Archive of Our Own ^beta

Izuku considers himself quite average.  He managed to get into a nice college, graduating second in his high school class.  After leaving any enclosed community, most learn they're not as great as people perceived them.  Luckily for Izuku, he already knew that.  Here, he was perfectly average.  So average in fact that he was practically invisible.  Izuku would walk the campus grounds only to find he’d never caught anyone’s eye.  It truly wasn’t much of a surprise to the young man either.  He was impeccably average, from his grades down to his looks.  He had dark colored hair that curled around his face; it was incredibly obvious that he inherited it from his mother, especially when standing adjacent to each other.  The only way their appearance seems to differ is in the freckles littered on his cheeks.  He wasn’t overly attractive, but he wasn’t scum-of-the-earth ugly either.  He was… enough.  There wasn’t a problem with the way he looked, but simply the fact that no one looked back.  Everyone’s eyes were aimed downwards, engrossed in their own endeavors.  Their thumbs scrolled, swiped, and tapped, ears plugged with blaring music or bricks nestled between their shoulder and head.  That, or people were pressed so tightly together that he could assume the intention that their own personal bubble wasn’t meant for him.  

The phones lacking the connection of a wire were still relatively new for Izuku, considering he’s only recently sshited up the money to buy a newer generation flip phone.  

It was a simple fact; people minded their business here.  

Not out of rudeness or ignorance, but through a matter of having better things to do than to stop and interact with him.  And Izuku couldn’t blame them.  The young adult was majoring in law, specifically in the field of Family Law.  He, of all people, knew how messy a divorce could be.  His parents fought for months over custody, and it wasn’t until the police found evidence of the rash treatment of his mother that his father was pushed out of custody.  

It wasn’t as fair for her compared to most women in that situation, considering the bias the court already had due to his mother’s occupation as a mortician.  No one would expect the sweet woman to have such a morbid profession.  And yet that's exactly why the judistricon nearly let his father take him.  The man had no interest in caring for the boy; his only issue was the child support he’d be required to pay if the judge's verdict went otherwise.  

It really was one of the most stressful times of Izuku’s life.  

He’d hate for another child to have to go through what he did, which brought him here.

Izuku enjoyed the long walks that his far-spaced classes allowed him.  He took detours on the oddly well-kept brick paths.  He was quite surprised by the amount of upkeep on the entire campus, really.  Even the buildings that were no longer in use were preserved quite well.   His favorite detour to take was the ‘Old Courtyard’.  In fact, this entire section of the college was dubbed as ‘The Old Campus’.  The buildings were much older than the newer sites, but the architecture was fairly similar, including multitudes of Greek pillars and brick statues.  Many of the buildings were much like old mansions.  Of course, in the late twentieth century, they wouldn’t be described as such, but Izuku still found them to have a particular charm.  The constant presence of crows overhead went well with the consistent grey skies at this time of year.  The Spring semester has just begun, and summer was coming at a snail’s pace.  He was in his first year at the university.  It didn’t seem like all that long ago when he had a roommate in one of the old dorms. They’ve been using the historical buildings of the ‘Old Campus’ primarily to house the first years.  Though recently, they relocated most of the students to the older kids’ building for reasons unclear to Izuku.  He learned through exchanged whispers (not directed towards himself) that it was more than likely due to a student overflow.  Of course, there would always be the drama-seeking spectacles that would somehow exclaim with absolute sureness that it was due to students going missing.  A particular student by the name of Monoma, who was most prominent in the spread of those rumors.  

It was now that Izuku would trek the campus. It was also about this time, a professor Izuku knew little about would leave his own building, presumably after teaching some classes.  The man had hollowed out cheekbones and a scrawny figure blond hair slumped down his shoulders, and yet his height was looming, especially if Izuku ever allowed him to get close enough.  The Law student couldn’t help but wave in an attempt to brighten the old man’s day (and to dampen the terror of his hollowed-out eyes that would only stare back in response).  He never knew that man’s name, and despite his horrific appearance, he seemed to be trying.  And so now it was a part of his daily routine of wandering, and there really was no breaking that thing for him.  Every once in a while, when he was lucky, he’d find a quiet place to study or complete homework on his mini-adventures.  

He couldn’t help the small grin that broke through when he checked the door of one of the abandoned buildings on the chilly spring day.  The building looked dull and bland.  The windows were dusted over with the musk of disuse and random and out-of-place rooms toward at the top.  It was surrounded by a rickety metal fence.  It was clearly built for someone to live on campus.  Maybe the head master.  Shudders cluttered at the sides of the house, the remaining ones hanged at their hinges.  A small stone path crossed the sloshy and dead grass that was encumbered by the fence, like its own mini swamp.  The bricks being the only thing left to savor someone like himself, the hassle from soiling his shoes.   There were once railings on the stone steps that led up to the door, but they were now also discarded in the mud pit of the half-melted snow and dead grass.  It was in these, of most gruesome-looking buildings, where Izuku enjoyed the most solitude.  There wasn’t a janitor cart in sight, and the evidence of anyone’s presence was scarce as it was in these parts, which meant he had the entire building to himself.  He now stood on the wood-rotten porch as the door rattled open with a creak, somehow straining against its own weight, despite being as dried out of wood as it was. Izuku couldn’t help the small grin come across his face as the house was filled with silence.  A perfect place to work in solitude.  

Or that’s what he intended it to be.  

“IT'S SUPPOSED TO BE ‘A’ FLAT.  Dunce face.”  Izuku jumped at the sound of the gruff shout.  A guitar plucked its way down the scale, sliding down the fret board that sounded like a distorted sob, clearly on purpose.  He couldn’t help but admire the skill of the player, despite the strums being played for purely comedic purposes.  

“Sorry Bakubro,” the voice cried, emphasizing the name in a mocking manner- more than likely the same one with the guitar.  

“Didn’t know the deaf drummer knew what a pitch was.”  A female voice scoffed.  It was only after that did Izuku found himself able to release a breath.  As much of a shame as it was that he lost a quaint spot to study, it seems as though this building was already in use by some other kids.  A band, by the sound of it.  Izuku always respected other people who could play an instrument, though he never found himself with a hair’s worth of musical talent.  He couldn’t sing on pitch for the life of him; therefore, he never bothered with trying to pick up an instrument.  

The dark-haired man backpedaled, his feet making significant creeks in the rotted wood just before he made it to the door.  

“Yo, did you guys hear that?”  A different voice said.  By the sound of it, there must’ve been at least four other people in the house, as they all erupted with chatter.  The gruff-sounding voice (the drummer, based on conversation) paused the chatter with just a loud sigh. 

“It’s probably staff.  I’ll go kick ‘em out.”  

‘Kick me out?!’ Izuku found himself gasping in surprise before attempting to scurry out of the house as quickly as possible.  Of course, his fresh pair of red Sketchers decided at that moment to fail him, making his ankles cross over one another, causing him to trip backwards, falling on his back quite painfully.  He couldn’t help the exasperated groan that came out after he tripped.  

“Oi’!  Who’s down there!”  Boots stomped down the stairs as Izuku clamored off the floor.  It didn’t help that the stairs were awfully close to the front door.  “Hey!  You’re not staff!  The hell are you doing in here?!”  

“I took a wrong turn- I’m leaving now.”  But alas- Izuku was much too late before a chillingly cold hand grabbed his shoulder and turned him around.  

“You gonna tell me why you were lurking around the abandoned parts of campus?  Look, if you’re looking for somewhere to take care of… personal business, I’m not gonna judge, but you sure as hell aren’t doing anything here.”  Izuku opened his mouth to deny allegations, though his brain didn’t seem to keep up, and took a moment to process what he said.  His face dropped into something more akin to mortification as he stared wide-eyed at the blond student.  The band member’s eyes were darkened so much that surely they must have eyeliner.  The pupils themselves were almost red.  His skin was pale, probably to match his spikey hair.  Despite this, Izuku couldn’t blame the boy, especially if he clearly had to be in some sort of gothic rock band.  

“Excuse me, what?!  I am NOT doing that.  I just… explore sometimes.  It’s a pretty old campus!  It has a ton of cool architecture and some of these buildings aren’t even used so I thought this one might be a good place to study- but then I heard you guys playing music, so I just thought-“ 

“Nerd.” 

“I’m sorry?”  

“Nerd; N E R D.” 

Izuku blinked in confusion before shaking his head and turning back towards the door.  He’s better off studying in his dorm.  While no one here spares a glance at him these days, at this point, he supposes it’s a good thing.  

“Wait, hold up.  That’s not what I wanted to say.”  The drummer jogged to get beside Izuku before he left for good.  It was much too late, considering he was already halfway out of the rusted old thing.  

Izuku couldn’t help but be a little salty.  He’s spent most of his freshman year of college barely even glancing at, and now, as it turns out, the only guy who ever tried to talk to him ended up being quite a douche.  At least he could be less indecisive.  Izuku felt for a moment that the guy was about to grab him by the scruff of his neck and drag him out of the building, and now he was attempting to converse.  What's worse is that he seemed just as bad at it as he was.  

“I’m Katsuki Bakugou.  You gonna introduce yourself after barging in here or what?” More clamoring from upstairs foretold more people stomping down the rotting staircase.  It must have been Katsuki’s other bandmates.  

“Bakubro!  Who is it?” A boy with red dyed hair called his hair also had a prominent amount of hair gel, so much so that it looked a bit too greasy for Izuku’ comfort.  Izuku recognized him as one of the basketball players.  It wouldn’t surprise him if he also played baseball.  He leaned against the articulately carved railing.  He internally winced at how the wood strained against the boy’s weight.  Though the image of him toppling over after breaking school property made a small smirk rise to his face.  

“I dunno.  Some nerd!” Katsuki turned towards him with a raised eyebrow, “Nerd, what major are you in?” 

“Uh- Well, this year I’m studying-” Izuku didn’t even have time to finish his sentence when Katsuki started speaking again. 

“Yeah.  Definitely a law student.  I think I had him in some of my general classes.” The darker-haired boy slouched as he was cut off.  It didn’t help that the other read him so easily, leaving no room for correcting.  

“Oh!  Sweet!  I’m Kirishima.  Nice to meet you.  I see you met our drummer.  He looks pretty scary, but he might as well work in childcare. The guy gets all soft and mushy once he gets used to you.  Like a cat.”  Kirishima rested his head in his arms on the railing as Katsuki’s eye visibly twitched.

“Shut it, shitty hair.” Katsuki barked as the red-haired boy stomped back up the stairs.  (Probably to report back to the other two).  The blond sighed.  

“Imma be real here.  We just came out with a new piece, and we need a fresh pair of ears on it.  We could also use a second bass player to balance out our double guitars when they’re on the same part.”  Katsuki explained.  Izuku blinked.  

“Sorry, don’t know anyone.”  He was just about to turn back towards the door when his arm was grabbed.  

“Law majoring hermit.”  He found himself being dragged upstairs by the new face and into a large room.  It had a mini chandelier with darker patches spread about the floors, where at some point, furniture or carpets provided cover for the wood and prevented sunlight from seeping into the wood and lighting the dusted planks.  

Izuku was finally released as Katsuki ran over to the drum set, as though worried the law-major would flee.  He clicked his sticks to count off from where they left off.  The rest of the band, completely unprepared, scrambled to get guitar straps over their shoulders and amps turned on.  

“We aren’t done with our break yet!” A short black haired girl shouted over the rest of the song, each player coming in at their respective parts once they were set up.  

“You said we needed fresh ears, right!?” Katsuki shouted, banging the snare drum particularly hard for emphasis.  

“Yeah!  Not kidnap the poor guy!”  The girl shouted, before her head snapped down to her guitar (or was that a bass?  Why did they all have the same number of strings?  Didn’t basses have fewer?) in concentration.  Her fingers began to dance across the neck of her instrument.  It was with a type of recklessness that Izuku found freeing.  The type of feeling he’d never had, of just living in the moment.  As someone who always planned, this girl was an enigma to him.  She tilted her head back, as though forgetting the part was ever difficult.  Reckless and beautiful.  And that didn’t even begin to describe the drummer. His eyelashes were long, elongated even further by his closed eyes, his hands in no way matching his expression.  He played fiercely, his hands smoothly moving between the drums and cymbals.  Like all anger usually seen on his face was sent towards his hands.  

It was gorgeous.  

His head subtly bobbed to the beat, his hair flowing across his face as it followed his motions. 

The piece concluded in a clichéd manner, with a long drone-out tone and a quick fill from the drums.  The player spun a drumstick as he leaned over the two drums on top, finally opening his eyes.  Izuku found himself clapping just out of politeness, already planning on how he’d slip out.  

“Well?”  Katsuki muted the cymbal with one hand.  The bass player with blond hair, it was much more prominent and less dirty than Katsuki’s, quickly strummed his bass again, as if he missed a note or two.  He had a single black streak in his hair- it reminded Izuku much like himself in middle school.  

“Quiet, Dunce Face.  Let the nerd talk.  Guy’s so quiet, can’t hear it over the non-existent heating system that this building doesn’t have.” Izuku really doesn’t know to whom specifically that comment was aimed, whether it be to him, Denki, or the building for not having a heating system.  Regardless, his eyes were still aimed at him, awaiting his response.  

“Yeah.  It was good.”  Izuku replied nervously, visibly wincing at Katsuki’s eyeroll.  

“We need context.  Get in there.  What did you feel about it?”  Kirishima elaborated.  Izuku felt like a fish as his mouth opened and closed in order to think of a response.  

“Alright.  Imagine you- uh… you’re in a submarine!-“ 

“Nope.”  Denki was cut off by the black-haired girl nearly as soon as he started talking.

“What did I do?!”  He complained.  

“Said something stupid.”  The girl with short black hair grumbled as she began messing with the setting on her guitar.  

“I didn’t even get to say anything!”  Denki cut in, grabbing onto the poor guitarist’s arm.  She put her hand on his face in an attempt to shove him off, but the man clung to her stiffly.  

“All the better for the rest of us.”  

“Kirishima, back me up!”  The strikingly blonde boy turned towards his friend, the other guitarist, who had already angled himself in a way that insinuated he did not want to be a part of the other band members’ quarrel.  

“I’m stayin outta this one.”  

“Shut up!  All of you.  Judge Judy has to tell us how we did.”

Izuku, who still didn’t have any clue what was happening, simply nodded and gave a thumbs up, “I told you already, right?  You guys are pretty awesome!” 

“That’s not what I meant.”  The drummer scowled, lounging backwards in his chair with crossed arms.  Before the boy could insult Izuku (again), the red-haired boy cut in, “I think what Bakubro is trying to say here is that he wants some more detail.”  

“Like what?  I’m not really good with the whole music thing.  I honestly think I’m pitch deaf.” Izuku shifted his weight between his feet awkwardly.  

“Oh my god.” The drummer scowled and quickly pushed himself off the drum chair.  And began storming right towards Izuku.  On his way over, he seamlessly grabbed the other blond’s guitar.  Izuku could almost feel the other’s blood curdle.  He had the intense need to make an excuse or find a way out of getting pummelled by this angry drummer and a guitar.  

“Wait!  Hold on, we can talk about this!” Katsuki raised his arm before immediately shooting it down.  

TWANG

Izuku felt heat creep up to his neck as he lowered his hands that were already set to shield himself from the nonexistent blow.  A guitar chord rang out, and Katsuki’s hand then strummed each string.  The law major was admittedly relieved that the other boy’s eyes were aimed downwards.  It was clear that he wasn’t as skilled as the band’s desigBakubrod guitarists.  He didn’t think he’d be able to take another second of him staring at him again.  

Of course, this breath of air was short-lived as the boy immediately got thrown back into the other’s suffocating gaze.  

“That was an E minor chord.  Easiest one in the book.  You put one finger on the second fret of the second-to-last string.” 

“Um.  Ok…?” Izuku questioned.  Though he wished he could backpedal based on the murderous glare of the other.  He seemed quite frustrated that he didn’t quite get what he was trying to show him.  He sighed, annoyed, adding more fingers to the fret board.  

STRUM

This time it sounded more… right.  When he played the E minor chord, the notes clashed and sounded like a subtle despair.  This one felt evened out and higher, even.  

“Well?” 

Izuku was quick to snap out of his thoughts as soon as he felt the other boys' piercing eyes upon him.  

“Sounds good…?”  Izuku answered questioningly.  

“No.” The boy answered bluntly.  

“Bakubro, maybe you should cut it out.  He doesn’t seem to get it, and he’s taking longer than me to pick it up-- No offense or anything, dude.  He said he was tone deaf.” The guitarist suggested, though he immediately shrank down as Katsuki shifted his gaze behind him and glared at the unfortunate soul.  

“And I’m actually deaf.  Now look.  He’s got it.  He just doesn’t realize it yet.”  He affirmed before playing the chord again, stepping closer as if that would help Izuku understand any more what was going on.  

“E minor;” The boy played the first chord again, “E major;” He played the second chord.  He then started to shift back and forth between the two.  Izuku wouldn’t say he liked that bit, considering that after the drummer managed to put the two chords together, he was able to play it without looking, which meant more eyes on him.  

“They’re different.  Right…?”  Izuku questioned.  The other strummed each string as he spoke, still shifting between the two chords.  

“Yeah.  Good.  How?” He played the two chords again, back to back.  

“Uh… well.  The first one sounds sadder.  Oh!  I get it now; minor is sad.  Like… it kinda felt like each string was fighting each other, but it's all on one instrument.  It's like when a character has inner conflict in a book or something.  The other one sounds… brighter.  Like a base.  Normal…?” Izuku had to cut himself off from his little rant, afraid that he’d sound much too odd for the others’ taste.  To his surprise, Katsuki grinned.  He reached his hand out, just slow enough that Izuku wouldn’t immediately assume that he’d clobber him, and gave him a mini-noogie.  

“Great.  Now do that with the whole thing.”  He stepped aside, gesturing to the rest of his band, who all had mildly surprised expressions on their faces.  Izuku put his hand over his mouth in thought for a moment before snapping.  

“Ok… right.  Uh, well, personally, I liked it because it felt… freeing…? So much so that it was almost reckless, really.  But it was the good kind of reckless.  Like an all-or-nothing sort of thing.  I’d usually be nervous that I’d mess something up or something.”  

“Reckless.  I like it.” The black-haired girl commented, “I’m Jiro, by the way.  I didn’t know if you caught my name earlier.”  Izuku nearly jumped.  He hadn’t introduced himself either. 

“Right.  I’m Izuku Midoriya.”  

“Welcome to the club, man!”  He was approached by the red-haired boy for a crisp handshake.  Izuku gingerly stuck his hand out, not expecting the painful clap on his hand.  

“I… should get going.  I have some studying to get done.”

“Sure thing!  You can always study here.”  

“Doors always open for a deku,” Katsuki grumbled, setting the guitar back down on its stand and going to his drum set, “‘sides.  You’re always in my general classes.”  

“Oh!  I’ve never noticed… maybe we’ll see each other in class?”

“Maybe.  Alright, dudes!  From the top!” 

+**+**+

Izuku traipsed back to his dorm, drowning in a flurry of thoughts.  

He jumped as the professor with the sunken cheeks approached him for the first time.  

“Young boy!” The man jogged up him; the fact that the man of such an age could even do so scared him.  

“Uh, yes?” He questioned with a tilt of his head.

“Are you aware of who has done it yet?” Izuku blinked, shaking his head.

“Can I ask what you’re talking about…?” The man’s shoulders dropped at the boy’s response, his cold eyes scanning the student’s face.  

“You can see me, correct?”  Izuku blinked, tempted to walk away from the professor.  

“Yeah…?  Why are you asking…?” Izuku’ eyes darted towards anywhere but towards the scrawny man that now loomed over him.  

“You don’t know, do you?” He realized, shaking his head in defeat, “This is crucial knowledge for someone in this situation, such as yourself.” The man paused, faltering slightly, nodding as though concluding, “My name is Mr. Toshinori.  It is nice to meet you, young Midoriya.” He mustered up a smile, his grin clearly taut with guilt, though Izuku couldn’t pin down what it was.  

“Excuse me, but… how do you know my name?”  Izuku approached slowly, his eyebrows scrunching in confusion, hoping to at least intimidate the old professor.  His eyes widened before holding out his hands defensively and taking a few steps away.  

“Oh!  Child!” He laughed slightly, “You’ve gotten it all wrong!  You see, I was quite close to your law teacher.  He spoke quite well of you and your strong morals.  I myself was impressed as I teach psychology.  It's a shame you didn’t take my class.” Izuku grinned, his face turning sheepish.

“Ah! I’m sorry!  Forgive me- this is just been an interesting day for me.”

“Well, that I am quite sure of, my boy!  Now, it's getting quite late.  Surely you have places to be, and I won’t keep you.” Izuku found a little smile growing on his face as he trotted back to his dorm with a wave.  

Izuku flopped into his bed, kicking off his shoes.  He decided to pass up his studying.  His test wasn't until next week.  Surely he’d regret it the day of, but for now, Izuku was drained mentally too mentally to attain anything anyway.  He lay on his back with his hands behind his head as he stared up at the ceiling.  Despite the classical stairs or the articulate roofing, the inside of the building had been modernized, the ceiling made of cement, and the floors carpeted with the fuzzy kind that can’t be removed from the floor.  His eyes trailed towards the calendar placed above his bed.  Tomorrow was Saturday, which meant his mother would be visiting… great.  

Sometimes their visits went quite well.  

Though that really depended on how his mother felt at the time.  They’d usually take a walk around campus, for how long depended on the weather, then they’d grab something small at the cafe.  But again, all of this relied on his mother’s moods.  They definitely weren’t as close as they used to be, especially after he’d gone away for college against his mother’s wishes.  It was still quite frustrating that no matter how upset she felt with him, she always came to see him at nine sharp every Saturday morning.  Despite living in Jersey, she always made time to drive all the way to Pennsylvania to visit the boy. 

He ended up dozing off without changing his clothes or brushing his teeth.  Part of him felt more like he had closed his eyes for eight hours.  Supposedly, he’s been tricking himself that he was sleeping, because recently, he hadn’t been able to get to sleep for the life of him.  The constant fatigue has been etched into his bones and is making him feel weary most days.  At least he was getting some work done during his accompaniment of the late hours.  

The next morning, Izuku stretched and craned his neck, blinking the sleep out of his eyes (despite not getting any), and reached over towards his alarm clock, which strangely wasn’t blaring.  His eyes finally regained focus as they settled on the blinking numbers, which told the time.  

8:40

The boy’s brain lagged behind as he processed the time before scrambling out of his bed and struggling to get ready.  His mother was arriving at nine sharp, and he knew that she wouldn’t be pleased if he left her hanging there.   Especially if she felt tense that morning, a single slip-up could sabotage him and his mother’s entire visit.  Izuku rushed to his dresser, pulling out a shirt at random, and then opted to wash his hair and face in the sink.  He doubted that he’d make it in time  It was fortuBakubro that they relocated some of the students to a different building.  It was nice having the bathroom all to himself for once.  He most certainly would have been late if not for that fact.   He sprinted down the stairs and raced out towards the entrance of the campus.  

Like clockwork, his mother's car pulled up to the parking lot.  Her small, pudgy hands held a purse no larger than her head.  Atop it, her hair was pulled up into a half bun, the exact shade of her son’s hair; the only difference was that hers was straightened and required hours of mousse and curling irons to get a single curl to stick.  Izuku, meanwhile, had unruly curls that would require a battlefield to tame them.  Though much like the Crusades, it wouldn’t be long before the curls overthrew any sort of order one would put them in.  

The woman’s eyes are aimed down, immediately passing by Izuku as she walks onto the institution’s grounds.  The student felt his heart drop as he instantly realized the unavoidable, that it would be one of those visits after all.  

“Hey!  Mom!  I’m so happy to see you!  So uh, how’s work?”  The woman shook her head and shivered.  

“It’s quite chilly these days… huh?”  His mother’s eyes finally looked up from the ground, glancing anywhere other than his face.  

“Oh, definitely, hopefully it clears up!”  Izuku tried to send his mother a smile, but she didn’t seem to see it, only scoffing and continuing to walk aimlessly next to her son.  

“I should go check the dorms… just to make sure we didn’t forget anything.”  Izuku’s eyes widened.  They never did that during her visits, “I never should have let you come here.  So far from home…” She muttered, continuing her solemn pace.  

“Wait, what?  No, no, no, no.  Look- I’m learning so much! Hey, uh, I got a 91 on my last test too!”  His mother merely shook her head, Izuku immediately feeling his stomach shrink in on himself and his heart collapse as her eyes brimmed with tears.  

“You might as well have just stayed with me.  You still could’ve had a decent school, and I would have been able to see you much more often.  Oh dear… I wish you’d have just listened to me…”  She cried.  Izuku bit his lip, bile creeping up as the wrongness curdled.  He shook his head, turning away.  

“Mom- you… You always do this! Why can’t you just be happy for me…?” Izuku murmured, feeling less and less brave as his mother continued to look at him, “Isn’t it amazing…?  I’m in the top ten percent to get accepted, and you just… just brush it off in favor of-” He hears himself increase in volume, but is quick to shut his mouth as his mother continues speaking.  

“I don’t even know why I’m here.  Maybe it's just out of routine at this point.  Maybe you’d have listened to me if I’d just told you…” The pair made it towards the ‘Old’ parts of campus, around where Izuku’s dorm was.  His mother’s gaze was lifted towards the dorm, her eyes scanning the sidewalk, as though looking for something.  Maybe it was courage, or maybe she didn’t even have the words to need courage for.  From the corner of his gaze, he notices Mr. Toshinori, sitting on one of the half-rusted benches, the metal that remained was tinted from years of wear and tear.  Mr. Toshinori smiled with a wave to which Izuku returned; those his already sunken eyes went solemn as they lay upon his mother.  As if he already knew what was happening.  Izuku opened his mouth to rebuke his mother again, or at least question her, but she continued to talk.  

“I… your father Izuku… I… I didn’t want you to be near him.  He’s a horrible, terrible man.  If only I’d accounted for other evils… If only… if only you didn’t attend this godforsaken college.”  Izuku felt words replace the bile in his gut as his head clouded with frustration.  He attempted to distract himself, or maybe even his mother, by glancing back in Mr. Toshinori’s direction, but he was gone by the time he looked back.  

“Dad!?  You mean to tell me, somewhere, he’s inside of this little college town, and you didn’t bother to let me know?  I don’t know, beforehand!?  Look, ma.  I know you miss me, but I have a right to my education, and if I went anywhere else, it wouldn’t be any closer to you!”  Izuku was breathing heavily by the time she put her hand on the front door to his dorm.  

“Oh, what's the point… there's… there's no use in coming here if you're only going to remind me.  This was stupid.”  Izuku faltered as his mom suddenly turned on her heel and stormed back towards the campus’s parking lot.  

“Wait- mom…?  Where are you going?”  Izuku jogged right back towards her side.  Her feet crunched down on the nearly melted snow, revealing dead grass, which would then be sprinkled by tears.  Whether they came from the sky or the runoff of his mother's face, he was unsure.  She shook her head quickly, unlocking her car.  

“Wait- seriously.  We can work something out!  I can take a train halfway!  Or, or-  Mom!  Please!”  Despite his pleas, his mother had already entered the car, leaving him to stare in through the window as she pulled out and drove off.  Izuku was tempted to chase after her, like in those overly dramatic movies, but he knew that there wouldn’t be a point.  He wasn’t among the physically gifted few.  So he sat on the curb, with his head in his hands, biting his lip in order not to sob too much.  

“Hey!  Deku!  The hell’re you doing!?” 

Izuku nearly jumped as he was called out to by the familiar boy he’d seen the other day.  He got out of a car, one that was conspicuous, but to anyone who had looked up some of the nicer cars at least once, would notice that his parents had money.  

Katsuki slammed the door of his car and walked up to the curb.  He held two bags of ‘groceries’, though they more so resembled snacks, energy drinks, and soda, based on the contents that were sneaking out.  

“You get dumped or something, Deku?”  

“I’m not a-“ Izuku attempted to reply in annoyance, but choked halfway through.  Katsuki’s expression softened, hearing the other’s voice choke up. 

“Hey, dude.  Seriously?  What’s up?”  

“I don’t- I don’t think my mom’s coming to visit anymore…” Izuku shook his head, taking it out of his hands, using them to hold his knees to his chest.  

“Look… uh…” Katsuki scratched the back of his head at a loss for words. “If there’s one thing that I ain’t good at, it’s this type of shit.  So what did you do to piss your Ma off so much?”  Izuku visibly tensed as his eyes met Katsuki’s.  

“I-I don’t even know!  Sometimes she’s the sweetest- best mom in the world, and other times she’s just… like this.”  Izuku nodded his head off in the distance towards wherever his mother's car was. Katsuki’s eyes didn’t follow, staying planted on Izuku and scanning him up and down a few times before sighing.  

“Look.  I don’t really know what your relationship with your mom is like… It’s none of my business.  I guess, if you want, you can crash at our practice for a bit.  Dunce face and shitty hair don’t wanna do anything today, so maybe an audience might motivate them a bit.  I know me, and Jiro are still working on the lyrics ‘cause nothing's sticking these days.  You aren’t busy today, right?”  

Izuku pauses, shaking his head, “I guess not anymore… but… I really don’t think I should.  It’s fine.”  He stands up to brush himself off anyway, turning back towards the front gates of the school.   Katsuki opens his mouth to speak in his usual gruff manner before shutting it, silently following Izuku.  

“Look.  I know your type.  Shutting people out ain’t gonna do shit, and you sure ass hell don’t have anyone else to pry it outta you.  You’re clearly free.  You might as well.” Katsuki shrugged, continuing to trail behind the sulking young man.  Izuku watched his feet hit the bricks on the ground.  Usually, he’d be sure to step exactly on each brick and avoid any miscolored ones in case of a metaphorical booby-trap.  He couldn’t bring himself to care about that right now.  

“Look.  I don’t want to intrude or anything.  All I want is to go back to my dorm and-”

“And what?  Sulk around because mommy doesn’t want to see you anymore?” Katsuki cut off, marching up to walk beside Izuku.  

“She just drove away.  She’ll call me… eventually.  Everything will be back to normal.”

“She-... she can drive?  I just kind of assumed that she was-”

“What do you mean ‘she can drive?’ Of course she can!  She’s a grown adult.  Of course she can drive.”  Izuku scoffed, finally turning back around to glower at the boy trailing him, simply due to the pure absurdity of what he said.  

“Did she even talk to you?”

“I- I mean yeah… She’s just… upset is all.  See, I went a little far away for college so depending on her mood she uh… yeah.”  Izuku shrugged.  

“Oh.” Katsuki looked at Izuku oddly for a moment, “So that’s it?  You’re just gonna sit down and sulk about it?  That’s pretty pathetic if you ask me.” Izuku tensed for a moment, his eyebrows growing scrutinizingly together, taking a step, almost intimidatingly towards the other.  

“‘Pathetic’?  Seriously?  You think just because I’m sad gives you the right to call me ‘pathetic’?!” 

“Well, hiding up in your dorm definitely ain’t gonna solve anything.” Katsuki crossed his arms, stepping up to the saddened soul.  They locked eyes for a moment, the tension so thick that it would need a machete to be cut.  In fact, Izuku had to suppress the shudder up his spine at the chilling stare.  

“Heya Champs!” A bright voice called, trotting up to the pair like a pup, completely oblivious to the argument, “Oh! Hi Izuku!  We were just about to go hang out.” Denki only met the other blond’s blazing eyes for a second before redirecting his gaze at Izuku, “You know, practice.”  He added on much too quickly to be natural.  Denki looked between the two, as if gauging the tension between the two like a gambler ready to lose the entire pot- or in this case, his life, depending on what came out of his mouth.  

“You coming too, man?”  The response was immediate, the guitar player barely having time to finish his question.  

“No thanks.”

“Yes.” 

The two different responses didn’t seem to surprise the boy, especially considering how long he must have known Katsuki.  What he did seem surprised by, however, was who said what.  

“Wait, you want him to go?” He grappled at Katsuki incredulously, grimacing before briefly checking over to ensure his friend wasn’t possessed.  

“Look at the guy.  He’s clearly had a shit day and needs a cool-down.” Katsuki gestured to the wide-eyed boy, who prayed that he didn’t still have tear stains running down his face.  

“I do not!” Izuku instantly denied.  Though Katsuki’s explanation seemed enough for Denki to throw his arm over his shoulders and start leading him away from the school’s front gates, which have been causing him to wilt every time he looks at the rusted-over metal bars that were implanted in the small brick wall that surrounds the school.   Katsuki walked on his other side, as if ensuring that he wouldn’t escape.  

“It’s alright, buddy.  I’ve had some nasty break-ups, too.  There was this one time when-- OW!” Denki’s head gets shot forward as Katsuki slapped the back of it.  

“He doesn’t want to hear about your former love life, Dunce Face!  Now shut it.” 

“I uh… I’m sorry to hear that.” Izuku attempted, trying to be as nice as possible to Denki, considering he had no clue about his and Katsuki’s previous argument, “It’s just, I don’t really have the time right now, and I have a lot of homework-”

“Liar.”   Katsuki scoffed as he made sure that he was in front of the pair as he carried the snack bags.  

“Pfft, yeah!  What are you even doing homework for anyway?” Katsuki’s head turned, shooting Denki a glare that managed to get him to shut his mouth the rest of the way to the old rickety house.  Izuku, not really knowing what to do at this point, was practically being escorted towards the old abandoned building.  He really tried (though he’d never admit that it never was too hard.  He couldn’t help how nice it felt to be seen for once), to escape.  Even making a last-ditch effort to leave through the door, only to be stopped by Katsuki, who was so courteously holding it open to slamming it shut behind him.  Denki didn’t seem to notice the behavior, leading Izuku up the creaky old stairs and into the practice room.  

Today, the curtains were open, though light wasn’t seeping through, similar to the say before that and the day before that one.  The last few months have been nothing but dreary, really.  The musky house and paint-chipped walls of the old house Izuku found himself in did nothing to raise his already dampened spirits.  The other band members must have also moved extra seating into the room, mostly small things that would be easy to transport, like beanbags and fold-up lawn chairs that completely clashed with the darkness of the run-down building.  Izuku briefly wondered if this would make a good frat house for a young scholar in the earlier 1900s.  

“Oh!  Bakubro!  You survived the trip to the corner store.  You guys found Izuku, too!  I was worried we’d never see him again with how much of a hermit he is.” The black haired girl, Jiro, Izuku recalled, was leaning back into one of the bean bags and plucking at a guitar with a notebook in front of her on a rickety music stand.  It was full of rust- clearly one that the prestigious university wished to get rid of.  

Kirishima was sprawled across one of the lawn chairs, perking up for an entirely different reason, his eyes darting towards the two bags Katsuki held in one hand, approaching the boy almost just as fast.  

“Come on, please tell me you have it.  You got it right?” He took one of the bags and instantly started going through it.  When he didn’t reach gold, he only dug even deeper in the second bag until, at last, pulling out a case of Crystal Pepsi.  He gave a quick peck to the box, holding it out in front of him like a savior, “Hallujia for you, Bakubro.  I’d go insane without this stuff.” Kirishima grabbed Katsuki by the shoulders and went in for a mock kiss, to which the victim promptly pushed his head away.  

“Shut up.  You have the rest of the idiots to keep you sane.” And then, as if he’d just seen him, Kirishima caught Izuku’s confused gaze before lighting up in less of a playful manner, but in a much softer and friendlier manner, “Oh!  Hey, Izuku!” 

“Yeah.  I guess I’m here now as well.” By now, Denki had released his death grip around Izuku’s shoulder, which allowed him to finally gain some distance from the other blond in the room who’s eyes never stopped judging him, and yet he couldn’t escape crossing paths with.  

“Hell yeah, you are, dude!” Kirishima cheered, walking over to Denki, instantly striking up a conversation and walking back to his lawn chair.  

“Hey.  Nerd.  C’mon.” Izuku turned his head just in time to see Katsuki jerk his head towards the girl in the bean bag.  A second one was already set up for the drummer, “We’re helping ‘Ears come up with some lyrics.”

“We…?” Izuku asked.  Though not wanting to be left awkwardly standing in the center of the room, he joined Katsuki and Jiro.  He walked up to them and wasn't even standing in front of them for a moment before being pulled between them and onto Katsuki’s bean bag by the drummer.  Izuku glared at him, who shrugged and leaned forward towards the paper in front of himself.  

“Same issue as usual?” Katsuki asked, leaning over Izuku to look at the stand.  

“There just aren’t decent lyrics.  I want it to mean something, you know?” Jiro huffed, passing the pencil over to Katsuki, who pulled the stand closer to himself.

“Who are you guys performing for?” Izuku asked, turning to Jiro as she brooded.  The girl perked up suddenly, staring at Izuku.  Her eyes land on him, scanning his form once, then twice, before her gaze turned to the drummer, who had clearly heard the conversation but was choosing to ignore it.  Based on observation, he clearly knew why she was glaring at him like he’d just buried her cat alive, though he continued to keep his eyes on the score, a bead of sweat dribbling down his forehead.  

“He doesn’t know?”  Jiro growled.  Katsuki grunted, both disregarding the fact that the person they were speaking of was squashed between them.  

“It’s not a good time now.” Katsuki shrugged, turning to the side.  

“Know what?” Izuku inquired.  The drummer shook his head, leaving the other to wonder.  Jiro clearly wanted to commit some sort of physical assault on the other but held off, more than likely due to Izuku’ placement between them.  

“We don’t perform.  The music's just for us.”  Katsuki muttered, scribbling something onto the sheet before crossing it out, his mouth curling into a snarl, his fingers turning white from gripping the pencil stiff enough to nearly break the utensil.  Jiro continued to look at Katsuki with a face of disbelief before shaking her head and turning to look through the snack bag.  

Izuku decided that he’s had enough moping, placing his hand on the student who was angrily scribbling so much that he had to resharpen the pencil every line he wrote. 

“How about we… take a break for a bit, yeah?  I noticed that you’re the only one who didn’t grab snacks even though you’re the one who bought them.”  He received the shot of an icy glare. 

“Fine.  If you know so much, why don’t you do it?” He tossed the pencil and paper at the freckled nobody and traipsed off towards the other bag with snacks.  

“Geeze… touchy much,” Izuku muttered, picking up the paper due to the curiosity that had him hung up by the neck.  The notes were unreadable, but the words underneath looked fine.  Well, fine to read.  Not exactly a good hook for a song.  

Fire, 

Fire I feel fire and flames 

Metal guitars rolling,  

Die

Die die

Can’t let a single person 

Walk on me,

And the parts that Jiro was working on were written in different hand writing, and had quite a contrasting idea;

We can win

If we don’t

The colors of gin

I can’t won’t 

Or forget, 

Izuku had to bite his tongue while he read them, especially considering the composer was beside him, and he couldn’t even read the music bits.  Jiro, to Izuku’ embarrassment, had sensed his amusement anyway.

“If you want, you can give it a try.  Me and Katsuki can’t agree on a theme for the life of us and nothing seems to fit in with words.  Neither of us are good with word play either so maybe you can come up with something.  I’ll hum the melody and chorus if you want.”  Jiro took the paper, labeling where the melody and chorus started in the sheet and erased her and Katsuki’s former input.  

She began to hum a song slower than Izuku expected, and yet it wasn’t solemn, but it had a hopeful feel to the tune.  He bit his nails in thought before beginning to scribble down whatever popped into the little acorn of a head God had given him.  Jiro waited while Izuku wrote, albeit much less aggressively than how Katsuki would compose, until finally, he had handed back the sheet sheepishly.  

“I hope it’s not too cheesy or anything… but I haven’t  written poetry since high school.”

We aren’t too

Far

From the places we started

Especially when we’re underground

We haven’t seen you in a while

Cause if my feet

Get landed where my heart is, 

I’ll end up with you,

in a ways to lay down.  

Jiro read over the text a few times, slowly killing whatever patience Izuku thought he had as he had as his teeth continued to clip his nails.  Jiro let out a huff, though the proclaimed poet had no clue of what emotion because he hadn’t bothered to look at her while she read.  

“Dude, this is amazing!  Hey!  Bakubro, come check this out!”  Izuku tensed, immediately feeling heat rush to his face as Jiro called back to their drummer.  

“WAIT WAIT WAIT- no hold on? It’s just something I whipped up really fast- hold on, we don’t have to-“

“What is it, Ears?”  Katsuki was already walking back to the 

“Nooooooo…” Izuku covered his face and faced away from the two as heat began to creep up the back of his neck, “It’s stupid.”  He grumbled out, as Katsuki, unavoidably, began to read.  

“Huh.” The drummer nodded, shooting Izuku a smile, “All right, Orpheus, the jig is up.” Izuku turned his head to the side, not getting the reference.  He finally gained enough guts to turn around and release some tension in his shoulders due to his curiosity.  His face still burned as the drummer grinned proudly, not doing much for the current state of his face.  

“This ain’t bad for a nerd, just gotta get used to doing this shit with rhythms.”  To Izuku’ despair, he plopped down beside him on the beanbag, leaning forward and pointing something out on the paper.  Izuku felt a bubbling brightness light up his chest.  He doesn’t think he’s had someone close to him since middle school.  Katsuki didn’t seem to mind the playful jab every now and then, so Izuku, already having a friendly insult in mind, raised his palm to cuff the boy’s shoulder only to have his wrist be grabbed suddenly, a bit shocked over how fast the drummer could move.  

“Don’t.” He demanded coldly, letting go of his hand.  Izuku felt himself shrink in on himself.  It turned out they weren’t that close after all.  

“I’m sorry-“ Katsuki sighed, putting his hand up and shaking his head, Jiro’ continued scrutinizing glare only adding to his guilt.  

“It’s fine.  Seriously.  Sorry.  I should’ve told you earlier that you can’t touch me.” Jiro rolled her eyes at the explanation, but Izuku really didn’t want to think that far, choosing to focus on what Katsuki was beginning to explain instead.  

“Alright, you see this one?” The pencil hovered over the first note on the page, “That’s a quarter note.  It gets one beat.”  

“Ok…?” 

“That one?” His pencil hovered over a circle note that took up the entire box of music, “That’s a whole note.  It’s used throughout the whole measure.” 

“So that’s like the rhythm bit, right?” 

“Yeah.  So right now, there’s four beats in a measure, the measure is marked by this line here.  Yeah?” 

“Yeah.  Wait- so does that mean that this one here,” Izuku points to two notes connecting each other, “is half of a quarter note?”

“Yeah.  S’ called an eighth note though.” 

“So the one with four notes is a-”

“Sixteenth note.”

“Right.”  Izuku nodded, staring at the paper.  

“There’s other ones too, but the melody here is pretty simple.  I’ll show you the other ones later.” Izuku nodded as Katsuki began clapping- but in even increments, counting up to four.

“So this is a four-four count.  These are quarter notes,” Katsuki begins clapping quicker twice as fast, putting ‘and’s between his numbers.  

“Those are eighth notes,” Izuku commented.  Katsuki grunted in acknowledgement before stopping, “See?  You get it.  Poetry has rhythm, right?  Well, now it's given to you.” 

“Oh!  Ok, I get it.” Izuku cheered, “And you can use them to put them in different orders to make different rhythms, right?”  The other boy clicked his tongue and pointed, giving the band’s new lyricist a shot of giddiness at the validation.  It wasn’t until a beat later did Izuku realize how close they were to eachother.  Their entire legs were pressed up against eachothers, quickly causing him to pull back, his face still dusted with  blush.  Katsuki studied his face before playfully scoffing with a grin, his own cheeks matching Izuku’s.  As if that wasn’t enough, he got a bag of chips tossed towards him by the musician. 

“Well?  I know I’m great, but you can’t spend all that time basking in my glory,” Katsuki scoffed at his own joke, “Get to work.” 

Jiro was still refusing to look at Katsuki, for whatever reason, as he and Katsuki continued working out the lyrics.  The drummer would help him with the rhythms as he scribbled down ideas for the poem.  It ensured a decent balance between music that had meaning, yet wasn’t too mushy for the punk-rock band, including matching syllables for the melody.  

The rest of Izuku’s Saturday flew by.  He and the rest of the band members stayed in the house until the latter half of the night, all of them migrating towards the same circle in the rickety.  Despite the gloom, all Izuku felt was warmth for the first time in ages.  

It was nice being seen.  

+**+**+

The next time Izuku would get kidnapped into a band rehearsal was one he swore would be his last.  It was right after his general classes that Tuesday, squeezing between people and being careful not to touch them as they flooded out of the building, when someone did exactly what he wasn’t trying to do.  He jumped as his wrist got grabbed between the sea of people and he was being pulled towards the brick building, with the haunting architecture that would make a great haunted house during Halloween festivities.  He jumped at how close him and Katsuki were, which earned him a wicked smirk.  

“Hey!  No!  I have homework,” Izuku groaned out, drawing out the last word as he was pulled into the house by the drummer of the band that he had found himself a prisoner of. 

“You’re the lyricist, we’re writing a new song tonight while the other two screw off.  We need to tip the balance so they’ll actually want to work… so put some pep in your step, Law Enthusiast.  We got some work to do, nerd.” Katsuki jerked his head towards the stairs before beginning to climb up them.  

“Oh, really?  Then if Law is so nerdy, then what’s your major?” Izuku shot back as he climbed the stairs behind Katsuki towards the practice room.  

“Chemical Engineering,”  Katsuki grunted out bluntly, causing Izuku to stop in his trek, nearly falling backwards down the wooden stairs and taking the articulated carved railing with him.  His face was flushed again. 

“Chemical-“ the law major choked, his voice barely a whisper, “CHEMICAL ENGINEERING?!  The nerve of you!  Calling me a nerd?!”  Izuku shot back.  The nerve of the guy!  Not only was he able to shred on a set, but he was in a major as complicated as Chemical Engineering!?

“Shut your trap, Song Bird.  You’re gonna be the next local Shakespeare.  If you don’t, you’ll starve.” 

“I can buy my own food, Kacchan.”  Izuku refused to relent.  

“No, you can’t.  You’re broke.  Wait- the hell did you just call me?”  

“No, I’m- I’m NOT!”  

“When was the last time you went shopping?” 

“…a month ago…?” 

“See?” The pair made it to the top of the stairs, Katsuki opening the door for Izuku, but not before playfully punching him, “You haven’t got a penny to your name!” The band’s lyricist rolled his eyes, failing (not so miserably) to hide his grin, walking into the room.  Jiro seemed to already be waiting for them, tapping her foot and staring at Katsuki with a raised eyebrow, to which he promptly ignored.  Kirishima and Denki were already digging through the bags of snacks Katsuki had bought- different ones from last Saturday, Izuku was sure of it.  

Jiro had already shaken her head, turning around to plop into her bean bag in annoyance.  

“Let’s get to work, Izuku.”  Said boy blinked before leaning over Katsuki’s shoulder.  

“Is something up between you and Jiro?” He questioned, only getting an eyeroll, aimed away from him in response.  

“It’s nothing.  And don’t think I didn’t hear you earlier.”  Usually, Izuku would continue to push, but things were so… peaceful, isolated in such a small space with people who seemed to care about him, he found himself easily taking the change in topic.  

“Whatever do you mean, Kacchan?”  Jiro rolled her eyes at the pair’s giggling as they sat down in the same bean bag chair.  This time, she had a guitar out, already playing with the notes along with her hum, scribbling on the sheet.  

“Oi, Ears.  Try that note on a sixteenth and go back and forth between the resolve for a bit to leave some edge.” Katsuki called over, who was already listening in on her meddling.  Jiro merely hummed, still attempting to ignore him, but Izuku heard the way the melody had changed.  By now, the band’s bassist and another guitarist were laughing on the musky floor, taking turns pinning each other to the ground, occasionally thumping against the instruments, only earning a light glare from Jiro.  

“Heya, any of you guys seen that creepy old guy wandering around…?” Denki suddenly spoke up as he lay on the ground, his feet propped up on the fold-up chair next to Kirishima, who was sitting beside him (also on the ground, despite two perfectly functioning chairs), fiddling with the pegs on his bass.  

“Oh! That old professor, right?  Yeah… he just kinda… watches us…” Jiro shivered.  

“Listen, I need you guys to stay away from that guy, y’hear?” Katsuki grumbled, grabbing Jiro’s guitar and handing it over to her, plopping down next to Izuku, and stretching his arms out.  The law student felt himself shifting awkwardly as Katsuki’s arm brushed his back, and chills ran up his back.  

“I can’t get a proper read on the guy.  I don’t like him.  His eyes creep me out.”

“Oh!  You guys mean Mr. Toshinori, right?” Izuku asked brightly.  All eyes darted towards him.  

“He talked to you…?” Katsukiiel muttered.  

“Yeah!  He was actually really nice.  He kinda wishes I was in his psychology class.  I might sign up for it next semester.” He beamed, before sensing the cold silence that over took the room.  

Uncomfortable.  Izuku didn’t like that. 

“So… uh… What did you guys want the song to be about…?” Izuku broke the awkward silence, much too quickly to change the topic.   

“Oh!  I was thinking it could be called ‘Ghost’s Life.’ What do you think, Katsuki?” Jiro spat, glaring directly at Katsuki, who rolled his eyes.  

“How about, ‘Shut the Hell Up, Ears’.” Katsuki returned.  Izuku blinked, attempting to decipher their words, his head hurting too much as it was trying to understand music theory on day one.  

“Hey, let's just uh, calm down.  Yeah?” Izuku sent a sad attempt at a cheerful smile towards the scowling drummer before resting his hand on his shoulder.  

Or, he intended to.  

If it wasn’t for the fact that he slipped right through.  

Katsuki jolted, shuddering slightly, and jumped up off the bean bag, shivering just as much as Izuku.  The law student looked down at his hand before darting back up to Katsuki again, his mouth falling open.  

“You-…” Izuku started, shaking slightly as he stared at his friend, also standing, if not to get more distance.

“Here we go…” Jiro rolled her eyes as Katsuki shook his head.  

“Is this what you needed to tell me?!”  Izuku felt his voice cracking, “That- what the hell was that?!” 

Katsuki, clearly unknowing of what to do with the distressed young man, gaped like a fish, attempting to find words. 

“Izuku, look, I…” 

“What’s happening to you?!”  He cried, reaching out to touch the boy as if for confirmation, though it was poorly executed as the two boys wrestling (too oblivious to realize what happened) barreled right into Katsuki’s legs.  He didn’t move an inch as they passed through smoothly, leaving behind a trail of almost magical wisps.  

“What… what are you…?” He choked out.  The boys on the ground finally stopped, sensing the tension in the room.  

“Look, Izuku.  We need to tell you something,” Jiro never had the chance to finish as Izuku cut her off.  

“No, no… it’s… ok. I… think I need to turn in for the night.”  He began walking backwards towards the open door slowly and on his toes without breaking eye contact with Katsuki, who stepped to reach an arm out as if that would stop him. 

“Izuku.  You don’t completely understand what’s happening here, just let us explain.” 

“I’ve heard enough.” He sprinted out the doorway and never looked back (or at least he’d say that he didn’t).  He couldn’t help the way his head definitely didn’t turn at the sound of Katsuki opening the door and calling out to him.  

He definitely didn’t stop.  

Despite his proclaimed early bedtime, Izuku took a few moments to indulge in old habits, wandering about the campus before he had to go home.  Old-fashioned lampposts lit up most walkways, making him feel as though he was walking through the early nineteenth century, the only modifications that had been in the past hundred or so years were the addition of electricity.  It was tonight that Izuku found a little hidden walkway, just barely lit up by the lamposts on either end of the small space between the buildings.  Izuku didn't care much for the names of the buildings.  Though there was an itch of familiarity from where he was.  Perhaps he’d already walked down here, and it looked different because of the lack of sunlight.  

On the other side of the alley was a sudden scruffle.  Izuku stopped where he was, getting closer to the wall with the hopes that he’d be covered by the shade of darkness as two figures emerged from the mouth of the alley.  The smaller figure had curly hair, tugging on her arm, sshiting her heels up against the pavement as she was tossed into the wall.  

“Let go of me, YOU CREEP!” The second sent chills up Izuku’ neck.  He drew in a breath, the man being significantly recognizable to the boy, and yet as he dug around in his brain, his fingers could only graze the memory.  

“HEY!  YOU!  STOP IT!” Izuku shouted before ruminating too much over it.  The man’s head lulled over to where he was standing, before huffing and digging his other hand into his jacket pocket, as if Izuku’s voice was just a gust of wind.  He drew out a knife, drawing it up to the girl’s neck.  At this point, Izuku found himself running up to the man, his feet slamming against the pavement.  The drowsiness that's been plaguing his body was suddenly gone.  He felt his arms get heavier; he felt stronger as he rapidly approached the young student’s assailant.  Izuku wasn’t experienced in fighting, nor was he any stronger than your average hermit.  Of course, he briefly considered out-thinking the criminal, though that was also off the table, considering he wasn’t thinking at all at the moment.

He finally reached the man, who seemed to resoBakubro malice, leaving a sickening feeling of Deja vu bubbling inside his throat.  

“STOP!”  He shouted, grappling hold of the man’s arm.  

Or, he intended to.  

If it wasn’t for the fact that he slipped right through.  

His body fazed through the wall.  

He yelped, swinging his arms around wildly, trying to catch his bearings, his feet barely catching the edge of a desk, somehow breaking the laws of physics as he brought himself to stand on top of it.  He was in a lecture hall.  The lights were dimmed but not fully turned off.  It became eerily silent, the only sounds being a vacuum running in a separate room.  Probably a janitor.  It was much to vast of a contrast for Izuku to grasp so quickly, especially when compared to the pleading girl that was just outside.  

“What…?” He asked again for the umpteenth time that day.  He jumped, toppling over slightly, but unable to get that weightless feeling he’d just thought he’d felt while tumbling through the wall.  He felt the etching terror curling around his chest, infecting his lungs with little cracks, making it hard to breathe.  

Was he even breathing?

He shook his head, a futile attempt to calm himself as he remembered the girl on the other side of the wall.  He yelped, tentatively getting off the desk in the empty classroom and going over to the wall.  

“Ok… here it goes.” He looked away as he pressed his hand to the wall.  For a moment, he felt nothing but the cold press of brick against his palm.  And then the desperation kicked in.  He urged his hand to go through, as he pressed harder against the surface.  His eyes being squeezed shut didn’t help the second time he was sent barreling through the wall.  He felt weightless for a moment before falling, as though whatever force was allowing him to float was done with him at that moment.  He scrambled to his feet, looking back at the pair in the alleyway.  

“I had a great time.” The man croaked out as his knife sliced into the girl's throat.  

“No- NO STOP IT!” The girl’s screams were silenced as the man had used his other hand to cover her mouth.  She coughed between screamed, her breathing getting scarce.  

Izuku tried.  

He tugged and pulled and shook his hand in between their faces.  His eyes were welling up with voluminous tears, pouring down his face.  The poor girl was drowning in her own blood, her hands stopping their struggle against the man's hands, coming up in an attempt to prevent the blood from flowing out of the gash.  A futile attempt,  as it only pooled in her hands.  Her screams were silenced, turning into painful gurgles, silent only to those close by, including Izuku and the masked man.  Izuku felt sickened at the twisted sense of satisfaction the man’s eyes held, curled into half-moons from behind the surgical mask, his neck hidden in the black high-collared coat.  Izuku screamed and cried, begging it to stop, his pleas only reaching deaf ears.  The man held the girl in place until her struggles faultered, turning into limp whimpers.  The man wasn’t merciful when he was done either.  He roughly shoved her against the wall, the satisfaction of the kill fading.  Her head got roughly crushed against the wall repeatedly until all sounds coming from the girl stopped, and her face left an unrecognizable mess of blood, flesh, and cartilage.  The man gave one last blow and carelessly dropped the girl, Izuku sinking to his knees simultaneously as the body hit the ground.  The man scoffed in disgust, taking a paper towel from his pocket, wiping it off, his eyes now dulled from the manic spark that had turned his eyes to half moons.  

“Y’know,” the man started, talking to the girl as he began pulling on some latex gloves, “I kinda wish I had another son.” Izuku’s eyes furrowed behind his distressed tears.  

“...” The body didn’t respond, lying stationary and quite uselessly if the man had anything to say about it.  

“There’s only so much fun a guy can have before you kids run yourselves dry.  I find it far more satisfactory when you know me.” He had a backpack, and Izuku had barely realized through his distress.  His knees were still planted on the ground.  He hated how inferior he felt.  He hated the way he couldn’t find it in himself to move his feet, so he was no longer standing below someone who’d take up a hobby as low as murder.  He heard the man talking, but couldn’t bring himself to look, his legs planted to the stone path, that just two feet away was stained with an innocent girl’s blood.  He couldn’t divert his eyes from her face.  Her own eyes were cold, only the residue of tears remained, mixing in with the blood on her scrabbled features.  

“Oh, the look in his eyes was something.” He chuckled as though talking of his little boy getting his first home run in baseball, or getting a 91 on his last test, “He only recognized me after I told him too.  You see, we have the same freckles.” His eyes grinned, but not brightly as he pulled down his mask and pointed to his cheek.  Izuku gasped, breathing heavily his eyes looking at the man’s face just in time to see a copy of his own patterned face.  

“Oh!  And it really was a win-win for everybody.” He was still smiling as he removed the hydrogen peroxide from his bag and began scrubbing the brick wall.  Phantoms spun in Izuku’s brain as the pieces of the girl that remained on the wall began being removed.  They stayed for Izuku.    

“You see this nifty trick?” He waved the red-stained towel in front of the girl’s face.  Izuku was choking on his own breath.  He was quite sure that he was being quite loud.  

It’s not like anyone heard him anyway.

“I learned it from his mother!  See, she always got pretty tiring, constantly asking me for money for the brat.  The damn kid I didn’t even want!”  He sprayed another round of hydrogen on the wall for good measure, removing more supplies from his bag.  

“But oh, she was ingenious.  She worked as a mortician, and she told me all the tricks!  Best season around to do it.  Its just starting to get warm.  By the time they find any of you,”

Izuku gagged as he looked away from the girl for the last time, hearing the crinkles of a large trash bag, squinting his teary eyes shut, as the girl was removed from the sidewalk.  

“You’ll all be so decomposed, they won’t be able to tell who’s who.  And then I’m hitching a plane to Mexico!” The man laughed, mock wiping a tear from his eye, starting on removing the evidence from the stone that the girl was once a top.  Izuku tried.  He shook his head, trying to account for as many features as possible as he committed the girl’s face to memory (before it got clobbered into the stone).  He had pink hair.  Her skin was of a darker shade and she had gorgeous eyeliner.  Izuku could imagine her waking a few hours early, just to ensure it was perfected to a tea.  Maybe she studied something beautiful, like music.  Maybe she would have enjoyed being in a band like Katsuki’s.  

Wait.  

What was Katsuki’s band anyway?

The girl suddenly gasped, making a noise, muffled by the bag

The man, no.  His father seemed pleased. 

“Oh!  Looks like she still has a little fight in her, huh?”  He patted the bag, much to rough for friendly, as he continued cleaning the stone path, completely oblivious to the pair of eyes gazing in horror at his every move.  

“Reminds me of my son.  I missed the artery.  Huge mistake on my part.”  He chuckled while shaking his head, “he just wouldn’t stop screaming.” He gazed into the distance wistfully, his arm straining as his eyes went back towards the ground, determined to remove the final stain.  

“Someone just had to hear.  That damn geezer.  He pissed me off.  Nearly caught me with the girl before that, too.  Part of me thinks he was on to me from the damn red-haired kid.” He began humming a song. It was an older one, from the 70s, Izuku recalled, his eyes aimed towards the ground.  

“‘Course that happened to be the day he caught me.  Though, I never minded some extra fun.  You understand, don’t you?” The girl’s spontaneous gasping had ceased, leaving only a small divet in the bag where he mouth would be.  Izuku was still shaking.  He tried to focus on keeping his hands on the ground, but he couldn’t understand how to calm himself when he very much knew that he could fall through it.  

The man wiped his hands off almost comedically, pulling his bag over his shoulder and grabbing the bag by its opening.  

“No-” Izuku protested quietly.  Attempting to stand- but his knees found themselves nobbing together and he collapsed onto the cold stone.  

“Now I suppose I should get you to your friends, huh?” 

“Young Midoriya?” A voice called his attention at the mouth of the alley, the old man’s body catching the light, and yet not making a shadow.  He walked towards the panicked figure and crouching down onto his level.  

“Ah.  I see.” He said calmly, looking over the boy’s shoulder at the fading figure of his poor excuse of a father traipsing down the alley.  

“He- he…” Izuku whimpered, shaking his head and falling into the man’s chest.  “I’m sorry.” He muttered, clinging onto the only person he could.  

“I… what for, my boy?” He asked, his voice softer than when they had first met.  

“He… He killed you.” Izuku shook his head, pulling back to look at the man, who frowned.  

“I know.” he said simply.  

“He… he’s my father.  I could’ve… I could’ve stopped him… or…” Mr. Toshinori shuddered at the thought, planting a hand on the pale-faced boy’s head, ruffling his hair with a small but encouraging smile.  

“Surely you shouldn’t blame yourself.” Izuku still smelt the chemicals, the friendly ruffles being numbed as his tears slowly came to a halt.  

“Let’s go dear boy.  We should get you back to your friends.” Izuku jumped, scrambling away from the man at the thought of Katsuki and his band.  

How he ran away.  

And yet Mr. Toshinori still held out his hand with a smile as he rose from the ground.  He waited with commendable patience for Izuku to grab his hand and return to his feet.  

“Wait but what about…” Izuku voice trailed off cracking until it stopped, his eyes trailing towards where his father had dragged the poor girl’s body.  

“I’ve already seen where they’re going.” Mr. Toshinori’s eyes darkened solemnly, shaking his head as a smile reappeared on his face.  

“A-alright.” Izuku’ expression softened as he returned his focus towards the man offering solace.  

“You’re friends are in the Kayama house, correct?” he began walking.  Izuku felt a small pang of guilt at the thought of the man supporting most of his weight.  

Then again, did he even weigh anything?

“Uh… the one with the fence around it right?”

“Mhm.” Mr. Toshinori confirmed softly.  Izuku managed to support a little bit more of his own weight by the time they made it to the door.  

“I… what is Kacchan?” Izuku mumbled with a sudden realization. He can’t touch him, but Katsuki could put his hands on him all he liked.  The people he knew were dead were the ones who could touch him just fine and he could do so in return.  Katsuki could see and touch them… but he couldn’t touch him back.  It confused Izuku to a migraine inducing degree.  Or maybe that was just stress.  

“Oh!  That talented boy! Well, I believe he should tell you himself.  In fact, he’s the reason why I nearly managed to solve your uh… disapearances… before…” The last word was said numbly, as he led Izuku through the door.  He doesn’t think he’d ever get used to the feeling of flowing through the solid wood.  

Usually Katsuki was the one that opened it.  

“Yo!  Dude.  If you keep pacing the floor your gonna worry yourself to a hurnia and end up like the rest of us!”

“I am not worrying!”

“Kacchan?” Izuku heard himself ask. There was a sudden pause in conversation and footsteps. As if the entire house had thought to hold its breath.  

Of course the pause didn’t last very long, all four band mates scrambling down the stairs, the lead figure being the exact blond Izuku hadn’t been able to stop thinking about lately.  He stayed silent as the rest of the group raced to greet him.

“Izuku!” Denki cheered.  

“Thank god you're ok!”

“You ok man? Worried we scared you off.”

“Hold up.” 

Katsuki stood scowling, blocking his friends from getting any closer with his arms after his eyes laid on the ghost of Mr. Toshinori.  His eyes were cold, his gaze cautious.  Though most caution he ensured that pertained to the rest of his group was thrown out the window by the time his beads of red laid on the distraught face of Izuku.  

“The hell did you do to him!?” Katsuki asked, rushing forward and grabbing Izuku by his shoulders, putting him behind himself protectively.  The man, sensing the tension, backed away slightly with open palms, allowing them to take the distraught former law student towards their side of the room.   

“Don’t get ahead of yourselves!  I hope to assist!  Truly!” Izuku’s head was still foggy, tear stains still falling off his face embarrassingly. He felt his shoulders be grabbed by Katsuki after he’d determined the professor’s ghost wasn’t a threat.  He was hushed before his hands moved up to his face and wiped his tears.   Voices sounded muffled, but at least the touch gave him something to focus on.  

“Are you ok? Can you hear me?” Izuku sniffed and nodded, his hands reaching up to grab his hands- before instantly fading through.  

“Oh.”  He remarked, his eyes finally able to focus on something, cotton being removed from his ears.  Katsuki tilted his head to smile, removing his hand to hold Izuku’.  

“Yeah.  ‘Oh’.  Old guy didn’t do nothing right?” Izuku was quick to shake  his head at the accusatory tone he used.  

“No! No- of course not!” 

“Good.  Cry baby Deku.” 

“Well my year ducts work more than yours.” 

“I… not to be rude… but I do believe we all have some things to discuss.” Mr. Toshinori spoke up, earning a light glare from Katsuki.  Izuku’s eyes startled open, moving to silence Mr. Toshinori.  The last thing he needed was the friends he had just nearly lost several hours ago finding out that his own father was the guy that killed them.  

Did they even know that they were killed?  

All eyes were suddenly directed at him.  Izuku found himself glancing nervously.  

“Well- uh- everyone!  This is Mr. Toshinori… he uh… used to teach… what?  Psychology?” The man gave a nod, to which some of the kids perked up.  

“Wait- you’re Mr. Toshinori?  Didn’t you receive a shit ton of recognition for your work?!”  Kirishima gasped excitedly, to which the teacher nodded, slightly flattered.  

“Oh!  Why yes!  I’m quite flattered that you recognized me!” 

“So he wasn’t just some creepy dead guy after all…” Jiro hummed before Mr. Toshinori’ expression turned serious.  

“Speaking of,  I believe we have enough evidence to confront this murderous villain.” 

“What?” Katsuki was the one who spoke the loudest. Though the rest of the bandmates began muttering in confusion.  

“Murdered…?” Denki muttered dramatically, before getting smacked over the head. 

“Oh come on we all knew it.” Jiro glowered, second handedly embarrassed at the boy’s dramatic antics, despite fully knowing the seriousness of the situation, probably having it explained to them by Katsuki, the only living body in the room.  

“Sorry…” Denki replied sheepishly.  

“My office,” Mr. Toshinori continued, “has everything you need.”  He shook his head, staring off wistfully, his eyes bleary with guilt.  “I truly should have approached you earlier, as soon as I knew that you had such abilities.  I could’ve stopped the death of another child, if only I hadn’t been so unsure as to when to inform you.”

“So.  Y’er telling me you got a stash of physical evidence, while I’ve been trying to crack this guy for months?!”  Katsuki groaned, stomping towards Mr. Toshinori, “Fine.  Let’s see what you got, old man.” 

+**+**+

March 6th

1991

It was on March 5th at 6:30 am when Toshinori Midoriya was found dead in his house, discovered by the police when the man had failed to be present for his trial regarding the recent disapearances in the area.   It was well known to the public covering the recent allegations of the recent disappearances of students from the campus, one of which being his very own son.  He worked at the college as a janitor, though there have been various instances of slacking off- coincidentally at the time of the disappearances.  Police have managed to locate all known victims and have notified families to give them closure.  The chief admits being unable to continue the case without the assistance of a student from the local college, who not only took part in the search of the missing students but recovered evidence from the only teacher who was among the missing.  Police suspect that Mr. Toshinori was participating in his own private investigations, attempting to solve the missing persons cases.  The man knew too much, the police stated.  His body was recovered along with five others.  

“I kinda knew a little bit about the investigations.  Definetely didn’t know how deep they were.  He- Mr. Toshinori told me about them.” the student had stated, adamant on remaining anonymous.  Despite Mr. Thamas’ rash decision, the police would not have been able to solve the case without his compiled evidence.  The man had risked his life in order to keep his students safe.  The headmaster has decided to create a memorial for the students and Mr. Toshinori as well as a scholarship award of 10,000 dollars for future undregraduates who exemplify such characteristics.  

The school offers their condolences to all familees of students that have been lost.  Despite attempts to remove students from the less secure areas by changing dorms to the more up-to-date buildings with automatic locks, evidence has shown that the attempts have been unsuccessful.  The school will be closing its doors for the remainer of the school year to allow other students to regain closure for any losses they may have experienced.

Midoriya has been officially been decided as guilty after further investigations, his suicide confirming the Cheif’s speculations.  More information on the case can be found below.  

+**+**+

Izuku found himself nestled in his usual beanbag, squashed between a pillow and Katsuki as they read over the paper.  His cheek was pressed against Katsuki’s shoulder as their legs tangled together, talking in low voices as the other band members chatted similarly with Mr. Toshinori.  

“So.  You can touch us but we can’t touch you…?” Izuku asked, turning his head slightly.  Katsuki nodded, shifting away from Izuku and moving so that he could throw one of his arms around him.  Izuku mourned over the shame that it was that he couldn’t run his fingers through the other’s hair.  

It looked soft.  

“Yeah.  Never cared much about the psychic business.  My dad saw shit too.  Tried to get me to go to conventions and shit so I could learn the ropes, get some Taro cards.  The whole shebang.  I kinda was a carbon copy of my mom though.  Never cared much for the junk.”  He shrugged, folding up the paper and tossing it to the side.  

“And then the idiot over there got himself killed.  Couldn’t remember a damn thing mind you.  I didn’t even knew he was dead til he fell right through me on day two at least.”  Katsuki huffed almost fondly.  

“So… uh… how can we touch stuff here?  Like the guitars, chips, papers?” Izuku questioned before getting a hand roughly shoved in his hair. 

“You’re such a nerd.  Its a simple incantation or whatever the hell its called.  Dad sent me a few books and I started reading them cause your dad killed off my whole friend group.  They were all pretty bummed out so I had to figure out a way to… cheer them up.” 

“Sorry-”

“No.  Not your fault.  I’m grateful.  I used to hate this damn ‘all seeing’ bullshit… but… It’s more important than anything right now.” Katsuki stared back at his friends, a whisper of a grin growing on his face.  

This wasn’t happy.  Just calm.  And Izuku knew it.  

“Thanks for finding us.” He responded. 

The voices quieted down as the door downstairs was blown open by the wind.  The house creaked as a girl’s voice rang out.  

“Hello?  Anyone here?” Izuku grinned at Katsuki who rolled his eyes, getting up from the beanbag, and holding a hand out to Izuku.  

“Let’s go greet the newbie.”