Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

"Please… please, Minku, stop!"

He hated that he was reduced to this, that he was asking her for leniency, but it hurt, it hurt so badly.

"Why should I?" Minku's voice was cold, the words sharp, "You never stopped when I asked you to. In fact, you used to grin, teeth barred in smug snarls that make me sick. And yet, they let you into a Hero school!"

Minku chuckled darkly, and he could just barely make her out in the stupid floodlights of the room, stubby pigtails incongruent with the blood-splattered clothes and lighter.

"I fucked up!" he barked out, the words punched out of him by pain, "I… I… I was wrong."

"Oh, you were?" Minku's voice took on a sugary-sweet quality, poisonous and vile in such a way that made him think that maybe he shouldn't have said anything, "And you think saying that makes things all better?"

Suddenly, she lurched forwards again, lighter flicked on, and he began to scream.

Chapter Text

All my life, she thought, I've been waiting for this.

It was in her name, in both her names, both true and public. Her true name meant 'obviously nine', her public name 'a new turn at an old story'. Her Dad used to tell her myriad stories about her Uncle; he had wanted this for her.

It might be All Might standing before her, the wind blowing through both their hair, but she couldn't help but think of this as a gift from her father. As her inheritance.

Part of her wanted to say no. Reject the offer; she was proud of being quirkless! But… her father died five years ago. Could she really reject something he had wanted for her to have? That he had named her for?

No. She couldn't.

And so Minku Shigaraki Izuku Midoriya became the ninth holder of One For All.

Chapter Text

A stolen wedding photo sat on the chest of drawers, just one of many sweet nick-knacks he'd collected over the years, mementos of the loves he'd left behind. It was surrounded by Victorian hair-lockets, old fidget toys, crumpled sketches, and pictures he'd taken himself in a rather stalker-ish manner.

He knew what it looked like. He knew that he looked completely insane, following them and collecting bits of their lives. He knew that he should just move on properly, let them go, but… but…

He couldn't.

He loved them still, and as unwarranted as his stalking might be, it showed that they still loved him, his shrine well-tended and his name spoken in soft, enraptured tones. They still wanted him, or at least, they still wanted the memory of him.

He wondered if they would still love him if they woke each morning holding a corpse in their arms, a blood-stained corpse trailing crimes and a moral compass that didn't line up with the law of the land. Which would win out, their jobs or their love for him?

He didn't want to risk that he wouldn't win, so he didn't reveal himself. It was as simple as that.

The wedding photo was more blatant than he normally went for his trinkets. A new addition, too — a gift.

A gift from Tenko, who had come back from the U.A. teachers' lounge with it. Who had shoved it into Oboro's hands with only the words, "You should have a real picture of my other parents."

A gift from his son, from their son, that they had yet to meet. Shouta would meet Tenko tomorrow, and it was almost certain to go badly.

A villain. Three heroes. Romance between them — it sounded unspeakable, impossible. Better not to even try.

Even if he still missed them more than he missed his own heartbeat.

Chapter Text

Shit.

This wasn't supposed to be a dangerous mission! He was just going to the honey-stall three streets over! They'd been buying honey there since Tenko was six, it wasn't exactly an unknown variable.

And yet, there was a hero on his tail, trying to fucking arrest him. Worse? He recognized her.

The Unfettered Hero: Skywalker. Civilian name: Sora Muto. U.A. Hero Class of '27.

One of Dad's former classmates. Shit.

If he'd been planning to fight, he'd be wearing three Augmenters, one on his collarbone and one on each wrist. He'd have Decay, and Flight Ring, and Silkstep, and he'd have the option to fight or flee without having to worry about a damn thing.

He wouldn't have to worry about Skywalker being here at all.

But he didn't have any Augmenters on, not even one, so he was just running. Hiding. Hoping that he could be fast enough to get away, even though Skywalker was up in the air.

"Get back here, Shigaraki!" Skywalker shouted, "Get back here and fight me!"

"Not a chance," Tenko grumbled, pressing as far as possible into the shadows of a garbage dumpster. Skywalker was wielding a pair of tonfa, her eyes narrowed with determination, scanning the area.

Shit. If she was being careful, it was only a matter of time before she spotted him. He needed a plan.

Skywalker's quirk was called Air Walk, a contact quirk focused on her feet. When her bare feet made contact with the air, it acted as a solid platform for her, allowing her to walk and run on air.

So long as she wasn't wearing shoes.

He needed a weapon. He didn't have a weapon; he'd been going to the store to buy honey, for gods sake! He had his own self, his wallet, his housekey —

His housekey.

That was a weapon. Not a good one, much too small, but he could do some measure of damage with it.

If he could get the drop on her.

He crouched low into a squat and pulled out the key, angling himself to keep an eye on Skywalker as she drew closer, lower to the ground. If he wanted to get out of this, he'd need to strike quick as a snake.

Wait for it…

Wait for it…

Now!

He darted forward and stabbed up, into the soft meat that was the bottom of Skywalker's feet. She cried out, swinging down with her tonfa even as she fell, catching Tenko on the elbow and making him cry out in pain.

Damn it.

He turned on his heel and bolted, cradling his injured arm against his chest. He heard Skywalker behind him, cussing and hobbling, but the injury to her foot would prevent her from being able to put weight on it. She'd be slowed, she'd be constrained to heights low enough that she could support herself on the sides of the buildings.

He could make it home now. He could make it away from her.

He didn't look back.

Chapter Text

Those charcoal-gray eyes flashed ruby-red, and Oboro felt the obscuring protection of his mist fall away, constrained back to the plume that constituted his hair. His feet hit the ground rather than hovering an inch off the ground, his hands flexed with their scars on full display.

"You… you…" Shouta's voice drifted across the plaza, "You traitor."

Oboro used to say that for Shouta, coal turned into rubies rather than diamonds. He used to say that they were the prettiest things he'd ever seen, prettier than even the sunset. But now… now they were the color of blood, and so, so angry.

Shouta lunged forwards, ignoring the chaos around him to throw himself directly at Oboro. His feet kicked up little clouds of dust, his snarl so feral it looked animalistic, his quirk active to prevent Oboro from running.

Time seemed to slow.

Oboro couldn't move, paralyzed by the devastation.

He'd known this moment was coming, he'd known —

And yet —

He woke up.

That hadn't been what happened. Shouta had never turned his quirk on Oboro, and thus, never learned that he was even there. The fight had gone mostly smoothly, even, except for that last bit when All Might showed up.

Damn him. Damn All Might. That slippery fucking bastard. Why couldn't he just die when he was asked? So terribly rude of him to refuse.

Oboro hadn't.

That was beside the point. Almost deliberately so; Oboro had allowed himself to be distracted but the truth was simple. Unfortunate, but very simple.

He was afraid.

He thought he'd gotten past this, but he was still afraid. Still wanted to hide away, keep all his secrets close to his chest. Wanted to halt even the chance of something like that nightmare coming to pass.

But it wasn't up to him. There were bigger things at stake here. Things like his little sister, like his son. People that mattered more than his fears.

He would push through this. He had to.

Chapter Text

They stood side-by-side before the grave, a young man and his mother. The mother wore a satchel with the symbol of the Hero Public Safety Commission on the latch, the son wore no bag at all. Still, from her satchel the mother removed some papers, handing them to her son. He took them, flipped through them.

And then, they vanished into a swirling purple portal.

"Thank you, Mother," he said with a smile, "Those will be most helpful."

"I'm glad," she smiled, "It's the least I can do."

Silence stretched out for a long moment, both of them looking at the gravestone. It jutted into the air, taller than the other ones around, and topped with a small stone rendering of a cloud. Like many of the others, it was decorative, with no ashes buried at its base. Unlike those others, it was believed to mark the place of the ashes.

But there were no ashes to be marked. The person it honored, although dead, still walked among the living. In fact, he stood before it now.

"I know," his mother said into the silence, "No matter how much I do now, it will never make up for the fact that I wasn't there for you when you were alive. That I should have reached out sooner, stopped obsessing over being good enough when you just needed me to be there, but. That won't stop me from trying. I'll do whatever you need me to, Oboro."

"I know, Mother," he told her, "I know that, and I know why you weren't there then. That's why I've chosen to forgive you."

"But should you have?" she turned back to the gravestone, "Should you have? I… I didn't even properly meet you until after you were dead, when I run into your classmates here I still struggle when they mention the color of your eyes and hair, and —"

"You've run into my classmates here," Oboro held up a hand to stop her rambling, "You come here often, both to talk to me and to mourn, both for show and because you feel you lost a chance at… I don't know what you think you lost, but I know you think you've lost something. You talk to my classmates. That's more than my father has ever done."

"Your father…"

"Did you know, Mother, that in the fourteen years since I've died, not a single one of my classmates has seen my father at this grave, even once? Tako-chan asked around, once. Unless he has suddenly become very good at avoiding people, he has never once bothered to come."

They lapsed back into silence for a moment, Arashi's face falling into a complicated but undeniably downcast expression.

"…I don't mean to upset you," Oboro continued after a moment, "But you should know, the bar for biological relatives is low. You're doing fine, Mother."

"…Even if I'm doing fine, that doesn't mean that there wasn't room for improvement."

Oboro hummed and shrugged, unable to disagree but unwilling to concur. His mother was already prone to terrible blame-spirals.

"…You can go, if you like," Arashi said unto the pause, "I'd like to stay a while longer."

A noncommittal noise, a cool breeze. When she next turned her head to the side, her son was gone.

Chapter Text

"We have to go for the exit."

"Shut up, Deku. I'm not a fucking coward."

"We're first years!" Minku protested, jogging after Bakugou, "And he's All Might, there's no way that we'll —"

"SHUT UP!" even with eleven years of dodging Bakugou's fists, this time took her by surprise. The force, the nitroglycerin, the burn, the bruise. Why did it surprise her? She should have known that Katsuki would never… Would never…

"If you're such a coward, Deku, I'll beat him by myself," Bakugou spat, stomping off and leaving Minku sprawled on the ground.

He just left his teammate sprawled on the ground. So that he could do something that he neither had to do nor had the skills to succeed at. And she was only on the ground because he hit her.

She was no stranger to being hit by Bakugou, as unfortunate as that was. It was the way of things, had been the way of things since she was four years old. The sky was blue, the grass was green, and Katsuki Bakugou liked to beat up Izuku Midoriya. It had continued, all the way here, to U.A.

And the teachers didn't do a damn thing. Even here at U.A., he'd tried to kill her, and he only got a slap on the wrist. And they were paired together for their finals. Where he hit her again.

She wondered, for a moment, if she should go to the exit and pass alone. It would be within the letter of the exam, but she'd probably be scolded for it. Aizawa-sensei would probably scowl at her and tell her off for not working with Bakugou, for not trying to overcome their "rivalry".

Rivalry. Like Minku had ever been Bakugou's equal.

This wasn't worth it.

The blood, the burn, the aches, the humiliation, it wasn't fucking worth it. Being a hero wasn't worth this, wasn't worth the continued cloak and dagger and the squalor of the industry. As a child she'd been enraptured by the glitz and the glamor; as a teen she'd clung to the idea that heroes helped people.

She just wanted to help people.

She should've listened to her brother. Oboro-nii was right, the hero industry was worthless, chewed up even those who believed in it. She had known that, had it reinforced when Shouto told her about his father, but she'd wanted to believe… Wanted to believe that she could tough it out. Change things from the inside.

Her face stung.

She couldn't just lie here forever. She had to make a choice.

She would not allow herself to be humiliated anymore.

Later, the exam would be called after an hour had passed and Bakugou had long since been put out of commission. All Might would admit that he'd never seen Izuku, but neither had Izuku escaped. They'd end up looking at the cameras, see Bakugou strike Izuku, watch the light in those green eyes die.

Watch him lie there for almost ten minutes, before standing up, walking into a camera blind spot, and vanishing entirely.

Somehow, Izuku Midoriya had disappeared from the middle of the final exams.

Worse, seeing Bakugou strike him unprompted? Well, they say 'third time's the charm', but when it comes to learning that two students have a genuinely toxic relationship, the third incident might be too late for that realization.

And that… that had dread pooling in Shouta Aizawa's gut.

Chapter Text

Despite how unsettled Ochako was by Deku-kun's disappearance, she was still excited for summer training camp, and even for this class trip to the mall. There might be a slight edge of desperation to her excitement, but it was still there! The excitement!

She really needed to spend time with the others; make certain that they were still there and hadn't vanished into thin air like Deku-kun. It was important. Didn't the rest of the class feel the same way?

They must not. They left Ochako alone less than a minute into the mall trip, each of them headed off in different directions, looking for different things, not a single one of them asking her if she wanted to come with.

Well. She might as well get what she needed, then. Which store was most likely to have bugspray…?

The mall felt jungle-like, and Ochako far too small, as she made her way first to the directory and then up to the second floor, where there was evidently a camping supply store right next to a game store; a funny combination if she'd ever heard one. Maybe she'd run into some of her classmates there, and she wouldn't feel quite so alone.

The stairs were marble-white, with metal-edged rails filled in with planes of glass. Each step had three ridges of something black near their lip, although Ochako wasn't really sure why. She'd never bothered to think about something like that before, but right now looking down was the only way she could block out the press of people, pretend that she wasn't frightfully nervous that she, too, might vanish into thin air just like Deku-kun.

Tip-tap, one step and then the next, until she reached the top of the stairs. Until she made it through, had to look up for the sign of the store she was looking for.

Not the clothes store, not the cookie bakery, not the game store, it was —

Wait.

By the game store, was that —

That girl looked almost exactly like Deku-kun. She had the same green curls, only slightly longer and pulled back into stubby pigtails; the same wide green eyes, the same diamond-pattern freckles. But she couldn't be Deku-kun, because she was a girl! …Right?

Despite all logic and reason, Ochako found herself moving closer, hopeful to get a word with the girl who couldn't be Deku-kun, but looked just like him anyway. She wanted to make sure, she wanted —

The girl spotted her.

"Oh, Uraraka! I didn't expect to see you here!"

She stopped. Her feet felt heavy as lead, her face slack with shock and horror. That… this girl didn't just look like Deku-kun, she was "Deku-kun?"

"That's not my name," Deku-kun Midoriya's eyes turned sharp and flinty, "It has never been my name, and I will not put up with it anymore. I have decided I am sick and tired of being made responsible for the failings of other people."

"What are you…" Ochako felt a dawning sense of apprehension and terror as she realized that however Midoriya had vanished from the finals, he — she? — had done it by his — her? — own choice.

"Minku-oba, do you know this girl?" a young man, maybe twenty or so, walked up to Midoriya, holding a bag from the game store they were in front of. He had chin-length pale blue hair, red eyes, and two scars on his face. He wore an aviator jacket.

"Yes, sorry, she's one of my former classmates," Midoriya turned towards him easily and openly, her eyes losing some of that flinty quality that unsettled Ochako so, "Uraraka."

"Oh," the young man — Midoriya's nephew? — clicked his tongue, "Does she need to be threatened?"

"No, I don't think so," Midoriya giggled, "She might have been blind, but she never contributed. Leave her be for now."

"Hm," the nephew hummed, "Should we go, then?"

"Let's!" Midoriya chirped, a bounce in her step that Ochako had never seen before but she hadn't known that Midoriya was a girl before either, "Nii-san will be picking us up soon!"

And then… they just left. A hop and a step and a light conversation that didn't include her, and Ochako's best friend just… just walked away.

Walked out of her life like she didn't matter at all.

Chapter Text

Oboro didn't know what to think when Minku contacted him in the middle of the day, in the middle of finals at that. He'd given her a lock of his hair to tuck into one of the pockets of her hero costume on purpose of course — he didn't want his little sister stranded or lost without him — but she was supposed to be at school right now. Why was she broadcasting to him, "Can you pick me up from my current location, take me back to the bar?"

He obliged, but that didn't stop the deluge of worry. In fact, it only heightened it when Minku stumbled out of the warp gate, face blank as a stone slab, with a massive wound on her cheek, bleeding and burnt.

"Nii-san," she looked up at him, eyes still so unnaturally dull, "You were right, Nii-san. I never should've tried to power through it."

"Oh, no, Minku," Oboro dropped to his knees, reaching out to pull his sister into a hug, "No, Minku, you were so very brave. But, brave as you were, it's okay to put yourself first, alright? It's okay to come home."

Minku sniffled, and her arms slowly came up to wrap around him in return. "Oboro-nii," her voice wobbled slightly, "I want to come home. I don't want to be Dekiru anymore. Is… is there still room in the League for Wisp?"

"Of course," Oboro whispered into her ear, "There will always be room for Wisp."

Chapter Text

"Everyone!" Shirakumo-san's voice rang out over the common area, causing heads to turn to look at him. "May I have your attention please?"

Himiko leaned back, allowing her head to hang off the side of the armchair she'd been lying across, craning her head to get a good look at the League's fearless leader. He looked the same as ever, if perhaps a bit irritated about something or other, although that wasn't expressed in his voice so it likely wasn't about them. How curious, then.

And oh, who was that standing next to him?

A girl, around Himiko's age or perhaps a smidgen younger, with green hair and eyes and diamond-patterned freckles. She was wearing a purple bodysuit with a skirt, seemingly seamless from the high neck to the tips of the skirt-pleats, with matching legging-boots emerging from beneath it. There were black accents on the sides, at the wrists, at the bottom of the boots, making the pleats of the skirt stand out more like they were blades attached to her waist. From one ear hung a tuft of — was that Shirakumo-san's hair? He must really trust her, whoever this is.

"Everyone," Shirakumo-san said, gesturing to the girl next to him, "This is my little sister, Minku Shigaraki, League operative Wisp. Until recently, she was undercover as the U.A. first year student Izuku Midoriya, but technically she completed her mission for us some time ago. She finally gave the signal for extraction earlier today."

"I wanted to help Glitter," Minku spoke up, "But his mission is more general, while the aftermath of mine meant I had to deal directly with All Might for extended periods of time. Eventually I couldn't put up with it anymore." she inspected her nails dismissively.

Wow.

"Are you single?" Himiko called out, raising her hand in a mockery of classroom etiquette.

Minku burst out laughing. "Sorry, no! Glitter's had my heart since we were kids."

"Darn," Himiko pouted and put her hand down. Several other League members laughed.

"Well, that's all the announcements for today!" Shirakumo-san clapped his hands together, "I'm going to head back to the bar. You know where to find me if you need me."

There were nods and murmurs of assent from the gathered League members, and then Shirakumo-san left. Minku, however, descended into the lounge area with a flounce to her step that looked almost like it was overcompensating for something. How odd.

Well, whatever it was that she was overcompensating for, Himiko had a friend to make. And this time, she had nothing she needed to hide.

Chapter Text

Battle raged and roared, the cityscape of Kamino chipping away with each successive attack from All Might towards the illusion of a dead man. With him sufficiently distracted, the League hurried towards a back alley, dodging and dispatching heroes as needed to make their escape.

"There's so many of them," Minku murmured, venom in her voice, "So many heroes here to rescue that filth of a boy. How many of them even looked for me, hm? Maybe three or four?"

"But you don't want to be found," Ryuusei pointed out, "So why do you want them looking for you?"

"I want to know that I have worth to them," Minku sniffed haughtily, "That I mean something."

"Of course you have worth, little Wisp," Oboro's quirk-distorted voice rumbled, "You're my imoto-chan."

Minku smiled. Oboro-nii always knew how to cheer her up.

"Stop right there," Aizawa-sensei dropped from a windowsill above them, flashing his quirk and —

Shit.

Oboro-nii stumbled as his quirk-cloak fell away, leaving him to stagger slightly as he hit the ground. Then, he froze, eyes wide as he looked at Aizawa-sensei in that unreadable way of a small animal in the headlights of a car.

"Get ready to run," Minku muttered. She heard a couple of affirming noises from the other League members, along with a question from Ryuusei.

"What's going on? Why has Kurogiri frozen?"

"That's his ex," Tenko explained with a hiss, "His ex who knew that Kurogiri was dead, but not that he was a Nomu."

"Oh shit," Himiko giggled quietly, and slightly hysterically, "This is not a good place for this."

No. No it wasn't.

"You… You can't be…" Aizawa-sensei was staring, but he looked more horrified than angry, or even focused on the battle at hand. "Oboro?"

You could see Oboro take a deep breath, his eyes lose that lost and startled look to be replaced by an undercurrent of steel.

"Get out of the way, Shouta," he said, voice so calm it had to be false.

"But you — You're dead," Aizawa-sensei staggered back, letting his quirk fall away, "How are you…"

"I am," Oboro-nii cut him off, "Now get out of the way, Shouta."

"I… Hurk!"

Himiko pulled the knife back out of Aizawa-sensei's side, "He should be fine so long as the heroes take care of their own. We need to go."

"They might not," Oboro sounded choked up, even as they started moving again, "We're almost out of range. We can leave in a moment."

"If they don't, we can ask Grandfather to take his corpse and he can become a Nomu like you," Tenko pointed out, "Either way, he'll be fine."

"…Right," Oboro swallowed heavily as they left the alleyway, "Right. Everything will be fine. It has to be."

Chapter Text

"You know, I didn't expect you to bring classmates to me, Ku-tan," Garaki frowned at the quartet standing in front of him. There were risks involved with bringing hero students to a villain doctor, risks that he knew that Minku was well aware of, so why had she brought three of her classmates here?

"I'm fifteen," Minku flushed, "Stop calling me 'Ku-tan'."

Garaki chuckled and ruffled the girl's hair, "I will not. You will be Ku-tan, now and forever."

Minku shoved him off with a smile that then fell almost immediately. "At the Sports Festival, Recovery Girl said she wouldn't heal me anymore. I don't… I don't know what her threshold is, so I'm protecting my own."

Garaki looked over at the other three students. One of them looked determined, the second unsettled, the third confused. "These are your own?"

"They are my best friends," Minku nodded, "I would like for you to teach them how to take care of themselves. And… I want them to know you exist, in case things get really bad."

"Very well," Garaki nodded, knowing full well that it was a strange request, given the context of who everyone involved was, "If they want to learn, then I will teach them."

Minku turned back to the other students with a big smile. "Guys?"

"Of course," the first student stepped forwards with a determined nod, "Shouto Todoroki. I look forward to learning from you."

"Likewise," Garaki nodded in return, "You may call me Tsubasa-sensei."

"Please, call me Shouto," apparently Shouto said, "I'm not overly fond of my family name."

"Very well, Shouto-kun."

"Hey!" Minku protested, "How come he's 'Shouto-kun' while I'm still 'Ku-tan'?"

"I've known you your whole life," he pointed out, "And I just met him."

"You've known him your whole life, Deku-kun?" the second student stepped forward, "I still don't… It scares me, that you felt the need to bring us here, Deku-kun, but if you've known him that long, then you must trust him. So, I'll trust him too."

"Thank you, Uraraka," Minku smiled at the girl, "Thank you for listening to me."

"Of course."

"I think you must have misunderstood Recovery Girl," the third student said after a moment of silence, "I know you mean well, Midoriya, but there is no way that a medical professional like Recovery Girl would simply — simply refuse to offer medical care! That is her entire job!"

"Iida…" Minku frowned, "If you don't believe me, why are you here?"

"I thought I could talk you out of this," Iida admitted, "I thought I could make you see that the heroes are doing their best, and that they wouldn't —"

"If you don't want to be here, Iida, then leave," Shouto turned to Iida with ice in his words, "If you don't believe Midoriya, than get out."

"Todoroki, why are you —"

"I quite agree with the boy," Garaki cut in, "If you would like to moralize, you are not welcome in this lesson."

Iida adjusted his glasses, looking around at the other students in surprise. Minku took a step backwards, away from Iida and towards Garaki.

And Iida froze.

He clearly hadn't thought that this would matter enough to Minku for her to view her friend as a potential threat for not quite believing her. And that, well, it seemed to scare him.

Good.

Garaki wasn't a kind man, not to those who chose to hurt those he cared about. And he did care about Minku; she was practically his niece.

When Iida left, he had better not return.

Chapter Text

He didn't want to get up today.

He didn't want to get up most days, but today especially, that sounded so…

It was May fifth. Oboro's birthday.

He'd be thirty-one today if he was still alive.

It had been fourteen years since they'd last celebrated his birthday with Oboro actually present.

Shouta and Nemuri would want to go to the grave. Most of the class would get together later and get drunk. Tako-chan would leave early, saying she had somewhere to be, but at least she'd show up. Nobe, Mann, and Mann probably wouldn't even bother to do that much.

Same as last year.

And the year before.

And the year before that.

And before that, and before that, for fourteen years now.

Most of them, they'd wake up tomorrow and move on with their lives. They had things they liked to do, causes they advocated, fulfillment and desire and motivation. Even his lovely husband and wife, who enjoyed their jobs with their whole selves, even if Shouta claimed otherwise.

Hizashi would go back to throwing himself into work in a desperate attempt to appear the same. He couldn't let on, not even to his spouses, how empty he always felt, how much Oboro's death had ripped him apart and torn his sense of self asunder. How much he couldn't bare to think about it, so he kept himself so constantly busy that he was practically always on the edge of a stress-induced breakdown.

It wasn't enough. He could still think, still know that it was all an act, that things would never be right again.

It was never enough.

He didn't want to get up.

Chapter Text

Minku was nine when she lost her father.

She could remember it clearly, far more clearly than she wanted to. She remembered coming home from another exhausting day of being 'Izuku Midoriya', of dealing with numerous thugs who thought her an easy target due to her lack of quirk. Raiha had walked with her part of the way home, chitter-chattering about something or other that slipped her mind now.

The kitchen light had been on, but not the one for the front room. She'd let herself in and toed off her shoes before she heard the quiet sobbing.

She'd been confused, and then horrified when she saw.

Her mother, sobbing quietly. Her father, still in her mother's arms. Blood, everywhere. The top of her father's head had been missing; his arms were at weird angles, everything was just wrong.

Just that morning, her father had smiled at her, ruffled her hair, told her to have a good day at school.

She'd never see him smile again.

Chapter Text

Mina knew that it was pure foolishness to carry out an unsanctioned student rescue mission for Bakugou, but she couldn't let Eijiro go by himself. She was one person of five then, more than one-fourth of the class; herself, Eijiro, Yaomomo, Todoroki, and Iida. They'd thought, for a moment, that Uraraka would join them too, but she'd begged off.

It was weird though, she didn't beg off because she thought it was better to leave it to the pros, like the others, but for some other reason. If Mina didn't know better, she'd almost think that Uraraka didn't want to come because it was a rescue mission for Bakugou, but that was silly, wasn't it?

It surely was.

Thanks to Yaomomo, they'd managed to find a warehouse or something that was… unsettling. There was a labyrinth of stuff, file cabinets and surgery tables and rows upon rows of sharp things. Ceiling-high tubes of glowing purple liquid in radial formation spread out from what Mina assumed was the center of the facility, with the one in the middle being the thickest. The ones furthest out held unidentifiable blobs, but as they moved towards the center they began to look more and more like body parts, with the one in the center holding a whole-ass person, a man in maybe his twenties or thirties with six arms, almost like Shouji but lacking any webbing.

Were they related? Did Shouji have any missing relatives? Mina didn't know, and didn't want to speak loud enough to ask the others; this place was giving her the heebie-jeebies.

"You're here for Bakugou, aren't you?" a voice, young enough to be a peer but completely unfamiliar, rang out from above and made them all jump. "You're welcome to him. Minku-chan's done with him anyway."

Before any of them could formulate even the beginning of a response, a body fell before them. Mina couldn't quite process what she was seeing at first, and when she did, she screamed.

She screamed because it was Bakugou.

She screamed because they were too late. Bakugou's hands were a mess of burns, some that Mina recognized as acid burns rather than heat burns, layered on top of each-other to the point that she wanted to vomit at the sight; his face was burned and bruised and bloody; the word 'quirkless' had been carved into his chest.

Quirkless? But Bakugou wasn't —

Oh.

That's why his hands looked like that. Someone had forcibly, physically rendered Bakugou unable to use his quirk.

And they'd been too late to save him.

Chapter Text

Shouta stared unblinking at the wall on the other side of the hospital room. His quirk wasn't active, but he couldn't stop staring. Not at the wall, but at what he could no longer see.

Oboro. Kurogiri, the League of Villains member, had been Oboro Shirakumo all along. Oboro, he… he…

Get out of the way, Shouta.

Why would he… if he had been out there all along, why hadn't he come home? How was he out there at all?

How was Shouta supposed to tell Hizashi and Nemuri? How was he supposed to say to them that he saw Oboro… saw him lead a group of nine villains to safety, saw him walk away after Shouta was stabbed?

The very foundation of his world seemed to be in question, and he didn't know how to deal with it. Worse, he knew that he had to unsettle the world for the people he cared the most about, cast them into the same uncertainty that he now felt.

Get out of the way, Shouta.

He didn't even know where to start.

Chapter Text

Redemption, like forgiveness, was in the eye of the beholder. Some people bandied it about freely, considering people redeemed the moment that they made even the most minuscule correction to their behavior. Some people held it close to their chest, considering redemption only valid after a great act. But redemption — forgiveness — was personal, something that was affected by how badly and how personally the giver was affected by the actions of the subject.

Shouta was in need of redemption. He knew that to be true the moment that Midoriya vanished in the middle of finals, and the feeling only swelled the more he looked into things. The more that he learned, from records and students alike.

Uraraka had gone to the police, crying, after what had supposed to be a mall trip with some of her classmates. She'd said that she'd seen Midoriya there — that Midoriya was a girl, that she had been hanging out with a young man who called her 'Minku-oba' and left under her own power. That Midoriya had seemed happy with the young man, and irritated with Uraraka.

Shouta sat at the kitchen table at home with Midoriya's file, wondering what else might be wrong with it. He corrected the name at the top; there was only one kanji variation for 'Minku' — 'obvious' and 'nine'.

Obvious. Nothing about Midoriya felt obvious. The more Shouta dug, the less sense she made. Everything on file with U.A. listed her as male, but as soon as Shouta got access to even her most basic medical files from outside U.A., her sex was listed as female. For some reason, Midoriya had been disguising herself as a boy, why? Further, her medical files listed her as quirkless!

How was she quirkless? Shouta had seen her use a quirk, seen her break herself with her quirk! Had her quirk come in late? How was that possible?

If her quirk had come in late, how much of her disciplinary file was fabricated? Her grades? Could Midoriya perform better than she had been?

Was her late bloomer status the reason for her crossdressing?

What was her true history with Bakugou? With this added context, Shouta knew deep in his bones that he had fucked up by pairing them together. He had fucked up long before that point, in truth.

Was there any way to redeem himself? Would Midoriya ever return to U.A.?

At this point, there was no way for him to know…

Chapter Text

The media was in a frenzy, the public in a panic, the heroes in a much quieter panic. There were discussions of corruption, of loss of faith, of naivety stripped away as more and more people began to corroborate and confirm what the League had said. What their newest member had said.

They were beginning to break down the system, and they hadn't even yet had all their reveals! There were still child traffickers to expose, abusers to reveal, discrimination to shine a light on, and yet the system already began to unravel.

Because any system that does not care for even those that play into it is ultimately doomed to fall apart.

Chapter Text

"You really hurt her, you know."

Shouta stopped, whirling around at the sound of that voice. "Oboro?"

"Minku. You really hurt her," one of the shadows in the alley-corner began to burble and leak clouds of mist, which solidified a moment later.

"I— Midoriya?" Shouta swallowed thickly. Of all the ways to see Oboro again… this wasn't the one he would've chosen.

"That is the name you knew her by, yes," Oboro moved closer, his movements fluid and menacing. Shouta felt a bit like a rabbit being hunted by a fox, except there was a pounding in his chest, a heat pooling in his gut, that he was certain that a rabbit never felt. Fingers hooked underneath his chin, and they were cold.

"I… I want to apologize to her," Shouta got out around the lump in his throat, "I didn't have all the information and drew incorrect conclusions."

"Hm," Oboro tilted Shouta's head up, eyes half-lidded and expression unimpressed, "I'll let her know. But I doubt she'll forgive you so soon."

"I… understand," Shouta's gaze flicked towards the ground, "I haven't forgiven myself yet either."

"We'll be watching," Oboro withdrew his fingers; Shouta leaned forward to chase their cold touch, "When Minku forgives you, I'll let you know."

"I—" Shouta began, only to be cut off by the press of lips on his, colder than he was used to, familiar yet strange. Oboro's hand came up once more, this time to cup Shouta's cheek.

It ended too soon, Oboro pulling away with an expression that somehow looked both disappointed and deeply alluring, and Shouta wanted. He wanted this beautiful, gorgeous, villainous zombie, no matter that they stood on opposite sides of the law.

He staggered forwards.

"Goodbye, Shouta," Oboro said, slipping away into mist as his voice deepened, "I'll see you again soon."

Later, Shouta would think that he should've activated his quirk, tried to keep Oboro there, but in that moment, he didn't even think of it. He couldn't think at all, mind overwhelmed by the swirling guilt inside and the lingering feeling of cold lips.

Chapter Text

She woke up in Recovery Girl's office, her bones aching, pain tingling all up and down. What had happened? She remembered…

Ah, yes. Bakugou had tried to kill her.

The putt-putt-puttering of Recovery Girl felt far away, even still in this same room. Tears pricked at the corners of her eyes, a weary dread settling into her aching bones.

Damn. She'd thought Bakugou was just quirkist. She'd had a whole plan to reveal to him what was wrong with that, including a catfishing scheme, and then maybe they could've been friends again, but — but —

But she had a quirk now, and Bakugou still hated her. He hated her, even now that she had a quirk.

It wasn't just prejudice. It was a hatred that she didn't know the source of.

And even as she wanted to scream and rage about it, there was some part of her that had always known. She just laid back, let her eyes fall closed. A couple tears pricked at her eye-corners, and she let them fall.

What a terrible thing to have confirmed.

Chapter Text

For years, Hizashi had buried himself in his work in order to not think about Oboro. To not think about how Oboro was dead, to not think about how it was Hizashi's fault, to not think about how much he missed him with every fiber of his being.

He did his best not to think about Oboro at all. Work was a good distraction, so he got himself more and more of it, until he had three jobs and wore the mask of Present Mic so much that he wasn't quite sure who Hizashi even was anymore. Was there really anything left of the boy he once was?

Or was there just enough to fool his husband and wife?

And that was that, that was the way of things, for over a decade. Work, act, cling to those left. Work, act, cling to those left. Work, act —

And then things changed.

And then Shouta came back from Kamino with a far-away gaze and the news that Oboro… wasn't alive, per say, but that he was still there. That he was followed by a passel of kids; that one of those kids had called him 'Dad'.

What he looked like now.

And part of him wanted to scream and scream and scream, 'Were we not good enough? Why did you leave?' but… But…

But at the same time, he felt like he could finally breathe.

Oboro wasn't gone forever. It wasn't Hizashi's fault. He didn't need work and more work and yet more work to distract him anymore, and honestly it wasn't working anymore anyway. He called off patrols, handed radio shifts to other hosts, and stayed home when he wasn't teaching, scouring the internet, looking… looking…

Eventually, he found what he was looking for. A tiny video with almost no views on a website that wasn't big enough to have much traffic on even the most popular of videos entitled, 'The League of Villains everyone'.

The camera-person — one of the girls, he thought — laughed as they pointed the camera at the blue-haired young man from the USJ, Tomura? As he cussed out someone while playing on his Monosystem. A minute later, another League member, the gecko, Spinner? Walked up, and yelled, "Say that to my face!"

Which Tomura did. At length.

Spinner returned the favor, giving as good as he got, until he said something that seemed to actually strike a nerve, Tomura recoiling with a gasp.

"Dad!" Tomura yelled, apparently going for backup, but the camera just panned over to show Oboro, laughing, without a care in the world.

He looked so happy. His smile was so genuine. There was a cozy warmth radiating from the video that made Hizashi tremble, made him cry. Why was he —

Why was he —

Oh.

"Why?" he whispered to the video, voice quiet even though Shouta and Nemuri weren't home, "Why didn't you take me with you?"

Chapter Text

Her fingers ached, a pain in them that she knew might never go away. She hadn't really meant to go so far, but Shouto had been hurting… Touya's little brother had been hurting, and Minku didn't want to let that stand. She didn't have to, so she didn't want to.

And it had worked.

She'd yelled and screamed and broken her fingers, and Shouto had understood, for just a moment, and fire had danced over the area.

It had been beautiful.

But now her fingers ached, and they might never stop, and Recovery Girl said she wouldn't heal her anymore, and Minku… Minku…

She both regretted it and didn't. The look of rapturous wonder and amazement on Shouto's face would forever be etched into her mind as a precious memory, but she wished…

Her hands hurt. They might now hurt forever.

Chapter Text

Awareness came back to Katsuki both slowly and all at once. He was suddenly aware of his self, of the fact that he was tied to a chair and the lights were far too bright and everything was wrong, but why?

Why was he here? Where was here?

"Damnit," Katsuki growled, pulling at his restraints, "Argh, fuck!"

"It's no use," a voice so familiar that Katsuki recognized it instantly, yet edged with something cold, broke into his thoughts.

"Deku," he snarled, "What the hell are you—"

"Oh, do shut up, Bakugou," Deku continued into the room, the bright lights making it difficult to see him — no, her, Round Face had said — but in silhouette.

"Hah?!" he bared his teeth, "Who do you think you're —"

"I said, shut up, Bakugou," her voice was steely, yet calm. Even though it was just Deku, Katsuki found himself on edge. "We brought you here so that you and I can have… a little chat. How about that, hmm?"

"Then talk, Deku," Katsuki pushed past that weird feeling. It was just Deku, she couldn't hurt him.

Right? Right.

"Oh no," Deku shook her head, stubby pigtails flung around by the movement, "It's not that kind of talk. So… we won't be having it just yet. Perhaps once you're more… dehydrated."

Then she turned on her heel and left with a giggle, and the lights switched off.

Dread began to pool in Katsuki's gut.

Chapter Text

Oboro let out a huff as he fell back onto his bed. It was a good huff, a solid, pleased one, the kind he let out when expelling all the air from his lungs for a while.

He loved his corpse. His stupid, impossible corpse, so bizarre and splendid as it was. His flesh would rot with him inside if he let it, if he stopped his heart and lungs too long, and oh how he delighted in teasing out the beginnings of that process before starting himself back up.

Part of him was morbidly curious about how far he could let himself decompose.

But he had things to do, he always did, so he could not let himself lie rotting forever. Nor did he really want to rot away; no matter how pleasurable it was, it was not all there was to his existence and never would be. He had Tenko to care for, among others, friends and family whom he loved dearly.

…What would his once-lovers think, seeing him lie here thus? Would they be disgusted by him, by the rotting corpse that still housed his soul?

No… he doubted that would be what disgusted them. He had never really been afraid of how they would react to his physical self, not really. They might find it slightly off-putting, at first, but that would likely be the worst of that, he knew.

No, they were more likely to be upset with how happy he was, how good his life had become. How much he loved his family, how little he cared that he was on the wrong side of the law. The little thrills he got using his portals to shoplift, the vindictive pleasure when they successfully carried out a mission —

Oboro was a villain. And he was so happily, willingly. His family was here, he agreed with their goals, they were his goals, and he was happy.

But… they were all heroes, the three that he'd left behind. They wouldn't look at him, changed thus, and see that he was free as bird and delighted by it. No, they would see a creature wearing their loved one's skin, a thing, a freak, something unwanted and unholy.

He'd known that for a long time now.

He tried not to think about it.

Chapter Text

A scream tore itself from her throat, raw and uncomfortable, her limbs aflame with pain. Her, Tsu, and Nejire had been on the perimeter, meant to help keep things contained and stop the Yakuza from escaping, but one of them had barreled into her before she could react, thrown her across the street and through walls.

Pipes and wires, drywall and glass, all pressing down and cutting into her, the smell of pooling blood acrid and eye-watering. She needed to cough, but it came out stunted, quiet. The taste of metal on her tongue.

She tried to push herself up, move the wall off her, but the pain in her limbs flared bright enough for her to see spots, and all she accomplished before collapsing back down was shifting the rubble enough that she could hear.

"Uravity!" Tsu's voice called, "Don't we need to help her?"

"We need to focus, Froppy!" Ryuukyu's voice shouted back, "Uravity will be fine; focus on containing the yakuza and protecting civilians!"

No, Ochako wanted to shout, but her lips wouldn't move, No, I'm not okay! Please, help me!

She tried to move again, tried to get herself out of this, but all it did was drive a glass shard deeper into the meat of her calf, and she let out a strangled cry muffled by plumbing, disguised by the sounds of fighting just beyond her.

Oh gods, she thought, I'm going to die here. I'm not even going to finish high school. I'm going to die here, with people who could have saved me not even ten meters away.

Chapter Text

Denki knew he wasn't the smartest tool in the shed. His brain was a spiderweb; all information linked to other information in a nonsensical map that made him rather bad at schoolwork. Doing homework was hard; not because he didn't get it but because sitting down to start it was difficult, so most of his assignments were rushed, incomplete, marked down for being late. And maybe that meant that his classmates didn't always respect him, but it was fine, really it was! He had enough time to decompress, and he was always willing to take a joke when he went out.

And! And and and! Uraraka was like him.

Well, not exactly like him. The mode she switched into was different, more demure than carefree, opening up to a ferocity rather than a quiet intelligence, but it was similar enough. He kept meaning to talk to her, but since it didn't have a time limit it kept getting pushed back and back in terms of what to do next, what to make sure got done.

Well. He'd thought it didn't have a time limit, anyway.

Maybe he should've realized that time was shorter than he thought when Midoriya up and vanished. Maybe he should've known they wouldn't all make it when Bakugou was arrested on charges of battery. Maybe, maybe, maybe…

But then Kirishima and Asui came back from their work studies and Uraraka wasn't with them. Then Aizawa-sensei came in and said all work studies were cancelled, for as long as he could manage. Then there were funeral arrangements, a body burning before his eyes. The whole class went up together to pick bones out of the ashes.

He shouldn't have put off talking to her. Now there was a hole in his heart with no real explanation, not one he could articulate. And yet…

Something inside him flickered out.

Chapter Text

"Oboro! Oboro, wait!"

"Hizashi…?" Oboro stalled despite himself. Perhaps part of it was the shock of being ambushed at the grocery; the people in this part of the town were insular, protected their own. Perhaps part of it, though, was simply that it was Hizashi who asked, Hizashi who he still loved. "What are you doing here?"

"Looking for you," Hizashi admitted. His hair was down from it's gel-spike updo, but not down in total, half of it pulled back into a bun and the whole thing peppered with slightly lopsided braids. His clothes were a far cry from what Oboro had seen him wearing on off-days when he dared to look before, instead leather jacket and leather pants with spiked boots and spiked choker and tie-dyed shirt made him look far more like Oboro's high school memories.

"Going to bring me in?" Oboro narrowed his eyes, making certain to look thoroughly unimpressed with the concept, "Think they will let you rehabilitate me?"

"No!" Hizashi shook his head vehemently, "No, I don't want — I don't want to bring you in."

"Then why are you here?" Oboro picked up another tomato from the rack, doing his best to look disaffected. He wasn't sure it was working; his hands trembled with some strange hope.

Hizashi hesitated a moment, then lurched forwards with a sudden desperation, clinging to Oboro's arm with a vice-grip. "Take me with you!"

"Wh— what?"

"I'm so tired, Oboro, I don't know how long I can keep going," Hizashi laid his head on Oboro's shoulder, "I don't even remember what it feels like… but you seem so happy…"

"Hizashi…" Oboro maneuvered to set his shopping-basket on the ground a moment, "How do you know things will be any better if you follow me? I'm not the same person you once knew."

"But at least I have a chance, if I go," Hizashi peered up at Oboro, "I saw… videos of you. One of the girls… Himiko, I think? She uploaded them. You look happy…"

"I am happy," Oboro frowned, "But Hizashi… I am also dead. I inhabit my own corpse, yes, but it is a corpse. If I let myself, I will rot. Is that what you really want, to follow a shambling zombie?"

"I don't care," Hizashi shook his head. "You're Oboro. You might be dead, but maybe if I follow you… maybe I'll finally have the chance to feel alive."

Chapter Text

"Are there really that many stars in the sky, Dad?"

"What do you mean?" Oboro drew close to little Tenko. Even three years into caring for him, it still felt weird to think of himself as a father, even though it was natural to think of Tenko as his son.

"I mean…" Tenko hummed and wiggled a bit, cocking his head to the side, "In games and stuff, there's always so many stars! Like hundreds and thousands! But when I look outside…"

"Ah," Oboro pulled Tenko into a side-hug, "That's because of the light pollution, Tenks."

"Light… pollution?" Tenko frowned, "But I thought pollution was like, trash? How can light be trash?"

"Well," Oboro began, "There are too many lights left on all night, and they're too bright, so the starlight gets lost in them."

"Oh," Tenko looked back down at his game for a moment. "So… The stars are still there, but we can't see them?"

"That's right," Oboro nodded, "That's exactly it."

"Oh," Tenko giggled lightly, "Is there a way that we could see them?"

"Actually…" Oboro felt his smile turn slightly feral, "There is."

Chapter Text

Yuuga felt the sour mood in the U.A. dorms same as everyone else, although he, ironically, didn't feel it for the same reason everyone else did. Everyone else was distraught by Uraraka's death. Yuuga was distraught that it seemed to have revitalized many of their drives.

Did they not see how much Aizawa-sensei was railing to get their work-studies revoked? Did they not think it was awful that they were being sent right back to them anyway, like one of there classmates hadn't just died? Did they not see the way they were being chewed up and spit out?

There was an omnipresent gloom hanging over everyone and everything, and none of them seemed to possess the self-awareness to try to escape before it got worse.

Chapter Text

Hizashi trailed behind Oboro, who hummed pleasantly the whole way back to… an alleyway? Oh right, Oboro could teleport now…

Walking through the portal, there was a bar illuminated in cozy warm lights, a low level of friendly chatter permeating the air. When they came through, there was a small pause, as the inhabitants looked over at them — and then exploded into noise when they saw Hizashi.

"Oh my gods."

"Who is that?"

"Is that your boyfriend, Obo-giri?"

"Yamada-sensei? Yamada-sensei!"

"It's Hizashi-nii! Oh my goodness, Hizashi-nii!"

"PAPA! Dad, you brought Papa home!"

…What?

His eyes locked onto the blue-haired youth that he knew was Oboro's son, looking at Hizashi with a wide grin and weirdly desperate eyes, and oh gods — he'd heard —

"You… called me Papa?"

"Well, yeah? Cause you're Dad's… you know. Do you… not want to be my Papa?"

"I would love to be your Papa," Hizashi's voice warbled, "But I should… should probably know your name first?"

"Oh," the youth blinked, then giggled, slightly hysterical, "I'm Tenko. Tenko Shirakumo."

Chapter Text

When Ochako cracked open her eyes to harsh florescent lights, she wasn't surprised, at least not at first. She'd fallen away from the world in a great deal of pain, so it only made sense that she would awaken in a hospital.

Except… it didn't really smell like a hospital, not properly. The chemical scent, while present, felt less omnipresent, and there was a smell like body odor hidden beneath. Not really very well, though, if she could smell it.

She pushed herself to sitting, her mouth terribly dry and something about her vision off. She went to rub at the corner of her eye, but instead somehow managed to poke it, and recoiled with an exclamation that turned into a cough so terrible that she couldn't breathe at all.

"You're finally awake," a voice greeted her when she managed to stop coughing, and a paper cup of water was pressed into her hands. "You were gone for a while there. I thought I'd managed to speed up the process more, but I suppose the manner of your death was rather complicated."

The manner of her… death?

It hurt to speak with her throat so dry, so she chugged her cup of water in a hurry, a curious desperation guiding her.

"Careful now, little one," the voice from before spoke again, and a hand was run through her hair, "Don't hurt yourself now, my dear. You have all the time in the world."

Ochako ignored that, and finished her cup of water as quick as she could. Then, still holding onto the empty cup like a lifeline, asked the man before her, "Where am I? What did you mean, 'the manner of my death'?"

"You are in my laboratory," said the man who had been speaking before. Ochako finally got a good look at him, and found him to be rather rotund, with a bald head-top and bushy mustache. His goggles had a distinctly steampunk feel, giving him on the whole a feeling somewhat between that of 'kindly grandpa' and 'mad scientist'. He looked rather familiar as well, but why…? "The birthplace of the Nomu."

"Nomu?!" Ochako yelped, her tightening grip on the paper cup causing it to crinkle and crease, "Wh— why have you — What are you planning to do with me?!"

"Nothing that hasn't already been done," the man tsked, "You were dead, my child. Those so-called 'heroes' left you to die not fifteen meters from them. Do you remember?"

And she… She did remember.

She remembered Tsu yelling her hero name, and Ryukyu telling her off for asking to fetch Ochako right away.

If Ochako had been fetched right away, would she have lived?

"I… remember," she told the man, both because it was true and because she felt it was what the man wanted to hear. "But why am I here? What did you do to me?"

"Ku-tan asked me to add you to the ranks of the Nomu," he chuckled, "I have never been good at denying my little niece. Besides, I do think you are a good fit with us, really."

"Ku-tan?" Ochako's brain caught on that, resolutely ignoring the fact that she was now a Nomu for a moment longer, "Ku-tan… Ku-tan… Wait, Dr. Tsubasa?!"

"That is how I was introduced to you, yes," Dr. Tsubasa, who apparently made the Nomu, nodded, "My apologies, I thought you recognized me already."

"It's fine…" Ochako responded in a daze, her mind aswirl with an overwhelming amount of information. She tried to blink, but she could still see — "I have more eyes now!" she yelped, panic flowing into her voice.

"Side affect of one of your new quirks," Dr. Tsubasa told her, "A spider-based one. Interesting that it manifested as additional eyes and not additional arms, I think."

"O-oh…" Ochako felt like she was drifting, and in her mind-fog haze, she let Dr. Tsubasa guide her down from the operating table where she had been laid.

"Come!" said he, "You must meet the other Nomu, meet your new brothers and sisters!"

And in her haze, she did agree, allow herself to be pulled away. She didn't have the brain-space to think right now, this was all so overwhelming…

And by the time she came back to herself, she found she had already been warmly accepted by a rough and tumble family of misfits who would kill for her.