Chapter Text
“I give them a month. Maybe two.”
A group of three underclassmen walk down the path, chattering amongst one another. Izuku’s grip tightens around his pen. A stray cherry petal falls on his open notebook; he’s quick to brush it away.
“Oh? But they work so well together!”
“It’s the Big Three curse,” says the first student, flipping his hair over his shoulder. “My sister saw it happen twice, back when she was a student here. It’s real, I’m telling you.”
Izuku presses his notebook closed. It’s a little early for him to head back to class — the lunch bell won’t ring for another ten minutes at least — but the other students have slowed near to a stop, and seem intent on gossipping loudly. Hard pass.
“I don’t know,” says one of the girls, arms crossed over her chest. “Those two are really intense about each other. Like, major power couple vibes.”
“A month,” repeats the first student as Izuku slings his back across his shoulders. He tucks his notebook close to his chest, and starts fiddling with his pen as he walks towards the group, hoping they pay him no mind.
“You seem really invested in this,” says the third student, a dark-haired girl who’s been staring at her phone for much of the conversation. “It’s not like either of them is going to date you if they break up. You’re a first year.”
The first student gasps loudly, then playfully shoves her shoulder. She shoves him back, and he returns the gesture even harder, knocking her straight into Izuku as he’s walking past.
“Woah!” he yelps, notebook tumbling from his arms. The dark-haired underclassman just barely catches him by his wrist, and she’s caught by her friend in turn. They haul each other up, and Izuku feels a heat creep up his neck as the embarrassment catches up with him.
“Deku-senpai!” exclaims the gossipping boy, hand flying up to cover his mouth. “Oh, my god. I’m so sorry.”
“It’s fine,” says Izuku, crouching down to grab his notebook, smoothing down the bent cover. “Really, don’t worry about it.”
The dark-haired girl opens her mouth to say something, then clenches her jaw shut. Her gossipping friend looks between her and Izuku with a strange look dawning; he forces a tight smile onto his face and bows quickly.
“We’ll just… let you be on your way,” he says, glancing up and shooting a pointed look at the third student, whose eyes are wider than looks healthy. “We would hate to keep you.”
“Uh, okay.” Izuku nods, cheeks reddening. “Uh, have a nice day.”
He coughs once into his sleeve as he turns the corner, speedwalking the rest of the way back to the building.
Katsuki and Shouto and a few others are already waiting in the classroom by the time Izuku gets back, but the two are sitting together. More accurately, Katsuki is sitting on Shouto’s desk while Shouto props a book up against his thigh. He might have been reading it at one point, but now he’s blatantly staring at Katsuki with this dreamy look in his eye while he argues loudly with Ochako about the latest episode of some show they’ve both been watching.
“Deku-kun, you agree with me, right?” she asks as he walks to his seat. Izuku shrugs, keeping his eyes on his bag as he pulls it off his shoulders and lays it on his desk.
“I didn’t really hear what you were talking about,” he says, not looking back at them as he pulls out his ethics notebook and textbook.
“You can’t drag him into this,” Katsuki says, “he has no clue about any of this stuff.”
“Come on, anyone with eyes can clearly see that Tano and Ayda were made for each other,” Ochako says. Izuku zips his backpack closed.
“I’m not saying they don’t have chemistry, but anyone with a brain can see that they’re nothing without Farai,” Katsuki spits. Little pinpricks ignite from his palms, like a thousand tiny balloons popping in quick succession.
Katsuki scoffs. “Relax,” says Shouto. Izuku hears pages rustling, and then, very distinctly, a kiss. He nearly drops his backpack, but manages to lower it slowly and deliberately to the floor.
He leans down, pen hovering over the first line of a new page. His apprehension catches in his throat, giving him pause. He should write something. He should look busy — how long now until the bell rings?
He starts with a few short, dark lines, not sure yet what he’s going to sketch. Over the next few minutes the lines start to take shape all on their own, stiff in some places and wobbly in others. His fingers, even after a year or more of physical therapy, are still weaker than they once were, the skin rough and tight where it gives way to old scar tissue.
He’ll have to tear this sheet out, he realizes as he leans in to shade a mess of intertwined fingers. It doesn’t belong here, sandwiched between his pages of notes and diagrams and taped-in worksheets.
As for things that don’t belong, he thinks grimly, there’s —
A loud thud breaks him suddenly from his train of thought. He jumps, hands shooting up, pen flying through the air and rolling loudly across the floor.
Katsuki is leaning over his desk, palm of his hand planted firmly in the center of Izuku’s open notebook. A shadow falls across his face, subtly defining his already strong features. A heat creeps up Izuku’s neck.
“H-Hey,” he says, swallowing. His throat is scratchy all of a sudden. “Uh, what’s up, Kacchan?”
Katsuki blinks. He shuffles back, lifting his hand. “You were spacing out.”
“Oh,” says Izuku weakly, “was I?”
Katsuki stares at him for a moment and then opens his mouth, likely to spit out some snide comment, when the bell rings. He grinds his teeth together and turns stiffly to walk back to Shouto’s desk.
Izuku hears him muttering something, but very deliberately doesn’t turn his head. Things have been weird between them since Katsuki and Shouto started dating, and —
He doesn’t want to ruin this. He and Katsuki were finally, finally on good terms when Katsuki announced loudly, to the whole class, that he and Shouto were together, and everyone else needed to be okay with it or get blown to kingdom come.
And it’s not like he’s not okay with it. In fact, he’s totally, completely okay with it.
Completely.
Izuku tears the sketch from his notebook and crumples it, then leans down to shove it into his backpack.
“Here,” says Katsuki, dropping Izuku’s pen on his desk. He plops down in his own seat and doesn’t say another word until class begins.
Katsuki decides to tag along for Izuku’s meeting with All Might, just like he used to, which now of course means that Shouto comes too.
It’s fine. It’s great. He loves having his friends around. Who wouldn’t?
The two walk behind him, holding hands. Every time Izuku glances back he finds Katsuki wearing a scowl, quick to direct his gaze elsewhere. Shouto at least smiles at him, but Izuku doesn’t miss the way that he has to squeeze Katsuki’s hand — or the way Katsuki squeezes back without missing a beat.
Toshinori is waiting with his binder laid out on the table, pencil held carefully between two thin fingers. He waves as the three walk in and get situated on the couch opposite him. Izuku tries to scoot to the end to make room for his classmates, but Katsuki pushes past him, throwing himself at the end of the short couch.
Izuku pauses. He starts to step back, planning to let Shouto shuffle past, but Shouto has already planted himself on the other end of the couch. He’s leaning over the short armrest, setting his bag on the floor and rummaging around in it.
“Ah…?” Izuku turns, glancing over his shoulder at Katsuki. He’s got his head propped up on one hand, glaring at the wall. “Kacchan, are you —?”
“I’m not sitting in the damn middle.”
Toshinori looks between the three of them, silent. Izuku swallows. Shouto has pulled out his book again, and only glances up for a moment to give Izuku a small smile and nod. Slowly, gingerly, Izuku lowers himself into the space between his two closest friends, careful not to press against either of them too closely.
They used to talk about One For All during these meetings, but the last embers are all but gone now. Izuku has been spending more and more time thinking about the future as graduation approaches. Most of his classmates are being offered slots at big name agencies, or have plans to start their own — Izuku himself has a number of offers, maybe more than any of them combined.
He wouldn’t know. He hasn’t counted, and he won’t; he can’t. One For All — his power — is gone.
Toshinori has been walking him through what might come next. They’ve been discussing a number of different careers he could pursue after graduation, none of which require a quirk of any kind. And he could do a lot of good in any of these, he’s sure.
But he wouldn’t be a hero.
“You’re considering the public sector, right?” Katsuki asks, still staring at the wall. He’s far less emotional about Izuku’s situation than he used to be, but he still gets irritable when confronted with the fact that their competition has basically come to an end. Honestly, Izuku isn't really sure why he still sits in on these meetings at all. They're not really about One For All anymore, and it's not as if he isn’t getting career counseling of his own.
“Yeah,” Izuku says, staring at his hands. “I think I could do good work as a detective. Or maybe a quirk counselor? Hawks has been making sure that there’s plenty of funding for that, now. And a lot of kids are starting to get more and more powerful quirks… I don’t know. I know what it’s like, so, I guess maybe I could help them.”
Katsuki turns his head, just slightly, and regards him out of the corner of his eye. His expression softens, and he looks away. “Yeah. You probably could.”
“I think you’d do great,” says Shouto, glancing up from his book. He reaches over, and puts one hand on Izuku’s knee. Izuku forces down a violent cough. “You helped Eri open up, and Kouta, too. You have a way with kids.”
“Says ‘five weenies’ over here,” Katsuki huffs, a smile spreading across his face. Izuku blinks. What?
Shouto rolls his eyes and goes back to his book. He pulls his hand from Izuku’s knee, resting it on his own thigh. The back of his hand just barely sits against Izuku’s leg, warm and solid and not quite close enough to mean anything.
“Your friends make a good point,” says Toshinori, scrawling something on one of his many worksheets. It’s a whole mess of career aptitude tests, personality quizzes, salary listings, the works. Izuku’s thankful that someone else is willing to help him keep track of it all, because if it were up to him, well…
Actually, he’d probably have it color coordinated and fully annotated. But. Still.
“I do like working with kids,” he says.
Toshinori beams. “You know UA has partnership programs with a number of universities specifically for alumni who want to earn their teaching license, right?”
“I thought you needed experience in the field to qualify.” He’d looked into that, obviously. Toshinori was the one who pointed out those programs to him in the first place. He’d admitted to taking an expedited version of the course himself, testing out of the program just before accepting Nedzu’s offer of employment.
“I’m sure they’d be willing to make an exception,” says Toshinori, “given the circumstances. You have plenty of experience by now, no one can deny that.”
Izuku lowers his head. “They made an exception for you because you’re All Might, you clearly knew what you were doing. I haven’t even graduated yet, and I’d have to apply in the next month or two to even be considered for next year’s courses. There probably aren't any spaces left by now, anyway.”
Toshinori lets out a dry chuckle. “Yes, and you’re Deku. The whole world knows what you've sacrificed. Do you really think they wouldn't be able to make space for you?”
“I don't know. I…” Izuku shifts uncomfortably. “Maybe I don't need the whole world to make space for me. Maybe I just want… something smaller.”
Katsuki watches him again from the corner of his eye. Heat starts to creep up his neck, and a moment later he's hacking and wheezing into the crook of his arm.
The next morning, Izuku finds cherry blossoms pressed between his sheets.
The sliding door that leads to the balcony is shut, and has been all night as far as he can tell. He stares at them, crumpled and torn, scattered mostly around his pillow, and tries to understand.
A cough rips its way from his throat. He swallows down a thick lump of phlegm, wiping the edges of his mouth with his sleeve.
Strange, he thinks, gathering as many petals as he can to move to the trash can. Maybe he's been sleepwalking, or something, or maybe someone is just playing a practical joke on him.
Hmm, he thinks to himself, what a weird joke.
All Might has them running a rescue exercise that afternoon, no different from the hundreds of others they’ve completed, both real and simulated.
Izuku was randomly selected to be the one of the victims in need of rescuing for the first round — and he’s sure it was random, because Toshinori gave him an incredibly apologetic look. Which, whatever. He knows it doesn’t mean anything. It’s just luck of the draw — story of his life.
So he’s out here milling around the basement of a collapsed building in his civvies with Tsuyu, Tenya, and Shouto, waiting for their classmates to come find them before the timer runs out and they allegedly run out of air.
“You’re not actually going to run out of air,” All Might assured them as he passed out their assignment cards. “We have a state of the art ventilation system down there. But in the real world, that might not be the case.”
“What’s this?” Tsuyu had asked then, turning over her card. “‘Spinal injury?’”
“Ah, yes. Modifiers, to make things more difficult for your rescuers. You know by now that you must take special care when extracting injured civilians, but sometimes you may need to balance speed and safety.”
“‘Once your rescuers arrive, you must not move from the neck down.’ Oh, so it’s a test of their first aid training as well.”
“And yours, when it’s your turn.”
Izuku had gotten “smoke inhalation,” Tenya had gotten “broken leg,” and Shouto had actually gotten a positive modifier: “off-duty first responder.” He’d be allowed to help the rescuers, rather than sit back and do nothing.
“How much longer do you think they’ll take?” Tenya asks now. He’s sitting on a chunk of rubble, leaned over and resting his chin on his hand. He stares at a timer on the wall, counting down from thirty minutes. It reads at just over five now, still ticking.
“Well, Bakugou is one of the rescuers, right? He probably has a fire lit under his ass right now.” Tsuyu taps a finger against her chin and smiles. “I would, if it was Ochako-chan down here and me up there.”
“He’ll be here,” is all Shouto says. He seems quiet, more so than usual. A neutral mask has settled over his face, but it cannot cover the dark bags that hang below his eyes. He spots Izuku staring and turns his face to the side, digging his fingers into his pant leg.
Izuku sits down next to him, careful not to slip on the pile of crushed stone. “You sleep okay last night?” he asks. Shouto shakes his head. “Do you want to talk about it?”
Shouto glances at him, expression unreadable. “I don’t know if I should.”
Izuku nods. “I understand. Just know I’m here, if you ever need anything.”
He turns his gaze to the floor and nods once. He brings his arms up around his knees, resting his chin there. “Thank you, Izuku. It’s just… we stayed up late last night talking, Kacchan and I, and —”
Shouto cuts himself off with alarm as Izuku starts to wheeze, lungs suddenly seized by some unseen crushing force. His throat burns, but he can’t get enough air in to cough. He starts choking, grabbing at his neck.
“Deku!” someone shouts, not Shouto — Izuku keens, straining his neck out as if it will clear the blockage that has appeared so suddenly within him.
His eyes start watering; he finally gasps in a breath of air only to immediately cough it back out, the force of it dislodging something thick and wet from his lungs. He spits up blood and mucus and —
“What the hell?” Shouto breathes, mirroring Izuku’s own shock. Bloody flower petals splat onto the concrete in vibrant shades of pink. Izuku doubles over and Shouto reaches down to catch him; Tsuyu and Tenya are at his side now, too, all of their hands on him, all of their voices overlapping as they search for answers.
His lungs spasm, heavy, stinging, burning. It’s as though something has burrowed deep inside of him, intent on shredding him apart. His vision is starting to go dark at the edges as he struggles still to get air.
Izuku coughs up another bundle of petals. One sticks against the roof of his mouth, tasting of bitter earth and iron. He swallows thickly, chills running down his back.
“We need to call off the exercise,” Tenya is saying, even as the sky finally opens above them. Izuku lets out a guttural, strangled cry as he’s taken by another coughing fit, and more and more torn and bloody petals find their way onto the ground in front of him.
“Breathe,” Shouto urges him, his hands so warm where they grip at Izuku’s chest. “Breathe, Izuku, please —”
Izuku watches the flecks of blood on the floor as they shine in the sunlight, and goes limp in Shouto’s arms.