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The afternoon sun hung low over U.A., bathing the training grounds in a warm golden light that did little to hide how exhausted Class 1-A had become. Their training session had stretched on for hours, leaving uniforms rumpled, hair damp with sweat, and muscles aching beneath layers of protective equipment. The usual energy of the class had gradually given way to tired conversations and the occasional groan from someone who had been pushed a little too far.
Aoyama Yuga stood among them with his usual elegance, one hand resting dramatically against his hip while the other held a bottle of water. From a distance, there was nothing particularly strange about him. His blond hair still caught the sunlight perfectly, and even after hours of training, he somehow maintained the impression that he had wandered onto the field from a completely different, far more glamorous world.
But beneath the practiced smile, Aoyama was struggling to breathe.
His eyes had settled on Midoriya.
Izuku was standing several metres away with Iida and Uraraka, talking animatedly about something that had happened during their last exercise. His hands moved as he spoke, his expression bright despite the exhaustion written across his face. Every so often, Uraraka laughed, and Iida adjusted his glasses before adding something to the conversation.
Aoyama watched them for longer than he meant to.
Midoriya was already doing a lot better even after his vigilante act.
His fingers tightened around the bottle until the plastic creaked softly beneath the pressure. He immediately loosened his grip and looked down, afraid that someone might have noticed.
"Yuga?"
Aoyama's head snapped toward the voice.
Jirou was watching him with mild concern. "You okay?"
For one horrifying moment, Aoyama wondered if she knew. Perhaps the guilt had become so obvious that anyone could see it now. Perhaps all it would take was one more question and everything would come spilling out.
He forced himself to smile.
"Of course. I'm merely feeling a little fatigued after such an intense training session."
The answer sounded convincing enough. Jirou studied him for another second before accepting it with a shrug and turning back toward the others.
Aoyama waited until she had looked away before letting his expression fall.
He couldn't do this.
The thought had been following him for weeks, growing heavier each time he tried to push it aside. He couldn't betray them again. He couldn't look Midoriya in the eyes knowing what he was being asked to do. He couldn't imagine what would happen if Midoriya discovered the truth.
Yet the alternative frightened him just as much.
All For One had never needed to shout to make himself understood. The threats had always been enough, spoken with that terrible calm certainty that made resistance feel pointless. Aoyama knew exactly what would happen if he refused. He knew what could happen to his parents, and he knew what could happen to himself.
There was no easy choice waiting for him.
Only fear on one side and fear on the other.
Aoyama glanced toward the forest bordering the training grounds. His parents were waiting there. They had chosen the location carefully, far enough from the other students that their conversation wouldn't be overheard, but not far enough to be suspicious.
He should have told someone.
Aizawa.
All Might.
Midoriya himself.
Anyone.
Instead, he quietly placed his water bottle beside his bag and rose to his feet.
No one stopped him.
That somehow hurt more than if they had.
He walked toward the edge of the training grounds, keeping his pace casual despite the frantic pounding of his heart. Once the trees began to obscure him from the others, he allowed himself one final glance over his shoulder.
His classmates were still there, laughing and talking as though nothing in the world had changed.
Aoyama's throat tightened.
"I'm sorry," he whispered, so quietly that the wind carried the words away before anyone could hear them.
Then he turned and disappeared beneath the trees.
The forest was considerably quieter than it appeared from the training grounds. As Aoyama walked farther beneath the canopy, the distant sounds of his classmates faded until all he could hear was the rustling of leaves overhead and the occasional crunch of his shoes against the earth. Warm sunlight filtered through the branches in narrow shafts, illuminating patches of moss and the drifting dust suspended in the air.
His parents were waiting in a small clearing ahead.
His mother noticed him first.
"Yuga."
The worried expression on her face told him immediately that something had gone wrong.
Aoyama stopped several feet away. "What happened?"
Neither of them answered at first.
His father adjusted his glasses, a nervous habit Aoyama had seen countless times before. Finally, he looked at his son and said, "We've received another message."
Aoyama's stomach dropped.
"No."
His father hadn't even explained yet, but Aoyama already knew.
His mother stepped toward him. "Yuga, please listen to us."
"You said it was over."
His voice was quiet, but the accusation in it made her stop.
"You told me that after the last time, I wouldn't have to do anything else."
His father lowered his gaze.
"We thought it was over too."
Aoyama stared at them, his expression slowly crumbling as the silence stretched between them.
"What does he want?"
His father took a breath.
"The One For All user, Izuku Midoriya."
The name seemed to echo through the clearing.
Aoyama's face went pale.
His parents explained what they had been ordered to do. Aoyama was to approach Midoriya, gain his trust, and lure him away from U.A. without anyone else accompanying them. The exact details had been left deliberately vague, but that almost made it worse. They didn't need to explain what All For One intended to do once Midoriya was isolated.
Aoyama understood.
"You want me to bring him outside the school."
His father nodded.
"Alone."
Aoyama looked between his parents, waiting for one of them to tell him there had been some misunderstanding. Neither did.
His eyes began to sting.
"I can't."
His mother reached for him, but Aoyama stepped back.
"I can't do this again."
His voice trembled as he spoke, and he hated himself for it. He had spent so long perfecting the image of Yuga Aoyama—the dazzling, confident student who could turn even the most ordinary moment into a performance—but none of that confidence remained now.
"I already lied to them. I've already betrayed their trust. How am I supposed to stand in front of Midoriya and do this?"
"We know what we're asking," his mother said softly.
"Then you know I can't."
His father closed his eyes.
"If you refuse, he will know. Are you really choosing your friends over your own family?"
Aoyama's breath caught.
The threat didn't need to be explained.
His parents were afraid too. That was what made everything so much worse. They weren't standing above him, demanding that he obey because they wanted to hurt anyone. They were frightened people who had made one terrible decision after another because they believed obedience was the only way to keep their family alive.
Aoyama looked down at his hands.
They were trembling.
"I don't want to hurt him."
His mother reached for him again, and this time Aoyama didn't pull away.
"We know."
A tear slipped down his cheek.
"I don't want to lose everyone."
His mother squeezed his hands while his father turned away, unable to meet his son's eyes.
For several moments, the three of them stood together in the quiet clearing, trapped by a decision none of them had wanted to make.
Then a sharp crack sounded from somewhere beyond the trees.
All three froze.
Aoyama's head turned toward the noise.
There was a pause, followed by the unmistakable sound of footsteps moving through the undergrowth.
Someone was coming.
His father's face was drained of colour.
Aoyama felt his heart slam against his ribs.
The branches parted.
Green hair appeared between the trees, followed by a familiar freckled face.
Midoriya stood at the edge of the clearing.
He wasn't smiling.
He wasn't speaking.
He simply stared at them.
Aoyama's entire body went cold.
Midoriya's eyes moved from his parents to Aoyama, and then back again. There was something in his expression that Aoyama had never seen before—not anger exactly, but shock so profound that it seemed to have emptied his face of everything else.
He had heard them.
Aoyama knew it immediately.
Every word.
Every mention of All For One.
Every desperate explanation.
Every accusation and confession hidden inside their conversation.
There was no lie left that could save him.
"Midoriya..."
Aoyama barely recognized his own voice.
Izuku took a slow breath, but still said nothing.
The silence was unbearable.
Aoyama felt tears gathering in his eyes again. Instinctively, he turned his face away, as though hiding his expression could somehow make the truth less real.
"Please."
His voice cracked.
He pressed a trembling hand against his face.
"Don't look at me."
And for the first time since Izuku had known him, Yuga Aoyama had nothing left to hide behind.
Something about Aoyama had been bothering Izuku.
He couldn't quite remember when he'd first noticed it. Perhaps it had been when he returned to U.A., after everything that had happened and the class was finally able to settle back into something resembling normal life. There had been an overwhelming sense of relief among the students. They had survived too much in too short a period of time, and although the memories still lingered, being back at school had given them something they desperately needed: a chance to breathe.
Izuku had taken advantage of that chance. For the first time in what felt like forever, he was surrounded by his classmates again without constantly wondering whether he would see them alive the next morning. He could talk with Uraraka and Iida, listen to Kaminari complain about training, watch Kirishima and Bakugou argue over something completely ridiculous, and return to the familiar rhythm of classes and exercises. He wasn't pretending that everything was fine, but he was doing better.
Most of them were.
Aoyama wasn't.
It wasn't obvious enough for anyone else to comment on. He still smiled when someone spoke to him, still made his dramatic gestures and exaggerated remarks, and still carried himself with the same strange elegance that had become so familiar to the rest of the class. To anyone who wasn't paying attention, he seemed like himself.
Izuku was paying attention.
There were moments when Aoyama thought nobody was watching and his expression simply disappeared. The brightness drained from his face, leaving behind an exhaustion and sadness that seemed completely at odds with the flamboyant personality he showed everyone else. He had become quieter whenever conversations turned toward everything that had happened before their return, and even when he participated, there was often something distant in his expression.
Izuku had wondered if Aoyama was simply having a harder time adjusting than the rest of them. He could understand that. After everything they had been through, everyone carried something they weren't ready to talk about.
Still, Aoyama's sadness felt different.
It was the kind of sadness Izuku had seen in people who were trying very hard to hide something.
That afternoon, he noticed it again.
Class 1-A had been training outside for several hours, and by the time they were given a break, everyone was exhausted. Izuku had been talking with Iida and Uraraka when he happened to glance across the training grounds and found Aoyama watching him.
Their eyes met.
Aoyama looked away almost immediately.
Izuku frowned. It was such a small thing that he almost dismissed it, but the feeling remained. A few minutes later, when Izuku looked again, Aoyama was gone.
At first, he assumed Aoyama had gone to get water or use the restroom. When several more minutes passed and he still hadn't returned, however, Izuku began looking around for him.
That was when he noticed Hagakure near the edge of the training grounds.
"Hey, Hagakure," he called, walking over. "Have you seen Aoyama?"
Her gloves turned toward him. "Yeah, actually. I saw him head toward the forest a little while ago. I thought he was just going to get some air or something."
"The forest?"
"Uh-huh. He looked pretty upset." She paused, then added, "I think I heard him talking to someone, too, but I couldn't make out what they were saying, I was just about to go after them myself actually."
Izuku's attention immediately shifted toward the trees.
"Did you see who he was talking to?"
"No." "Sorry."
"That's okay." Thanks."
Hagakure gave him a small wave. "Just don't wander too far. Aizawa's going to notice if you're gone for too long."
Izuku nodded before heading toward the forest.
He told himself that he was only going to check on Aoyama. If something was bothering him, perhaps he could help. Izuku knew what it was like to carry something alone, and if Aoyama wasn't ready to talk to everyone, maybe he would be willing to talk to him.
The moment Izuku stepped beneath the trees, the sounds of the training grounds began to fade. The forest was considerably quieter than it looked from the outside, with only the rustling of leaves and the occasional chirp of a bird disturbing the afternoon stillness. Sunlight filtered through the canopy in narrow, shifting patches, illuminating the uneven trail beneath his feet.
Izuku followed the faint footprints leading farther into the woods.
He wasn't entirely sure what he expected to find. Perhaps Aoyama sitting beneath a tree, trying to collect himself, or maybe simply taking a few minutes away from everyone. Either way, Izuku intended to talk to him before they returned to training.
Then he heard voices.
Izuku slowed.
They were faint at first, carried through the trees by the breeze, but there was no mistaking that more than one person was speaking. He moved carefully toward the sound, stepping around a large tree and keeping his footsteps as quiet as possible.
One of the voices was Aoyama's.
Izuku's concern sharpened immediately.
There was something wrong with his voice. The usual theatrical confidence was gone, replaced by a tremor that made Izuku hesitate before moving any closer.
Another voice spoke.
"We received another message."
Izuku stopped.
He recognized that voice. Aoyama's father.
The realization made his stomach tighten. He knew Aoyama's parents, but there was no obvious reason for them to be meeting their son in the middle of U.A. forest during training.
Aoyama answered quietly.
"You said it was over."
Izuku remained behind the tree, suddenly uncertain whether he should announce himself. He hadn't come here to eavesdrop, but the distress in Aoyama's voice made walking away feel wrong.
"You told me that after the last time, I wouldn't have to do anything else."
His father responded, though Izuku couldn't make out every word. Aoyama's mother spoke afterward, her voice equally strained.
"We thought it was over too."
Aoyama was silent for a moment before asking, "What does he want?"
There was another pause.
Then his father's answer reached Izuku clearly.
"The One For All user, Izuku Midoriya."
Izuku's entire body went rigid.
His own name echoed inside his head as he tried to understand what he'd just heard. Why would Aoyama's father be talking about him? He leaned slightly closer, careful to remain hidden behind the tree.
Aoyama spoke again, and there was unmistakable fear in his voice.
"No."
His father said something Izuku couldn't hear.
"You want me to bring him outside the school?"
Izuku's heart began pounding.
Aoyama's next words were quieter.
"Alone."
A cold sensation spread through Izuku's chest.
He didn't understand what was happening, but every instinct told him that whatever conversation he'd stumbled into was far more serious than he'd expected. His mind raced through possibilities, trying to find some innocent explanation, until Aoyama's father spoke a name that erased every hopeful possibility.
"All For One."
Izuku felt as though the ground had shifted beneath him.
For several seconds, he couldn't move. Aoyama's strange behavior, his sadness, his secretive meetings, the fear in his voice—it all seemed to rearrange itself into a horrifying pattern.
Aoyama was involved with All For One.
No.
Izuku desperately tried to reject the conclusion, but then Aoyama spoke again.
"I don't want to hurt him."
His voice broke.
Izuku closed his eyes.
He could hear Aoyama crying now, quietly enough that someone farther away might have missed it, but Izuku was close enough to hear every uneven breath, or maybe it was his own?
"I've already lied to them. I've already betrayed their trust. How am I supposed to stand in front of Midoriya and do this?"
Izuku's stomach twisted.
There was no misunderstanding anymore.
Aoyama had been working with All For One.
He was the traitor they had been warned about, but Izuku would have never suspected one of his classmates not after all they had gone through.
The realization should have brought anger. Instead, Izuku was overwhelmed by disbelief. Aoyama was the strange, dramatic boy who sat among them every day, who had shared meals with them and trained alongside them, who had smiled and joked as though he had nothing in the world to worry about. He was also the person Izuku had spent the past several days quietly wondering about because he seemed so unhappy.
How long had this been happening?
Has Aoyama given All For One information about the class? Had he told him about U.A.? Had he been responsible for things Izuku had previously blamed on the League of Villains?
The USJ, training camp…no way.
His hands slowly curled into fists.
He needed answers.
Izuku stepped away from the tree.
He meant to approach quietly, but his shoe caught a dry branch buried beneath the leaves.
The crack was sharp enough to silence the entire clearing.
Izuku froze.
Aoyama turned.
For a moment, nobody moved.
Izuku saw his parents standing behind him, both looking terrified, but his attention remained fixed on Aoyama. Tears streaked his face. His eyes widened when he recognized Izuku, and the little colour remaining in his cheeks seemed to disappear completely.
"Midoriya..."
Izuku couldn't answer.
He had imagined confronting villains before. He had imagined standing across from people who had hurt others and demanding an explanation. He had even imagined what it might feel like to discover the person responsible for betraying their trust like this before.
He had never imagined that person would look at him like this.
Aoyama lowered his gaze, his shoulders trembling as he struggled to compose himself. He opened his mouth, apparently intending to say something, but whatever words he had disappeared before they could leave him.
Then he turned his face away and raised a trembling hand, covering part of his face as though hiding his expression might somehow make the situation less real.
"Please," he whispered.
Izuku took a cautious step forward.
Aoyama recoiled.
"Don't look at me."
His voice cracked, and the tears he had been trying so desperately to suppress spilled down his cheeks.
"Please, Midoriya. Don't look at me."
Izuku stopped.
He didn't know what hurt more—the betrayal itself, or the sight of Aoyama looking as though he had already decided there was nothing left of him worth saving.
Aoyama's parents remained silent behind him. There was nothing they could say now. Izuku had heard everything, and Aoyama knew it.
"I heard you," Izuku said quietly. "I heard everything."
Aoyama's fingers tightened against his face.
"I know."
For a moment, the only sound was the wind moving through the trees.
Then Aoyama lowered his hand. He still couldn't bring himself to meet Izuku's eyes.
"Midoriya, it's true, I am a disgusting villain."
The words were quiet, but there was no uncertainty in them.
Aoyama swallowed, his expression twisting with shame.
"I betrayed all of you."
Izuku stared at him, unable to find an immediate response. The forest suddenly felt impossibly small around them, as though the entire world had narrowed down to the four people standing in that clearing.
Aoyama had finally told him the truth, but it was a truth he hadn’t wanted to hear.
And Izuku had never felt less prepared to hear it.