You Never Asked - jongdaethedinosaur - 僕のヒーローアカデミア | Boku no Hero Academia (2024)

Chapter 1

Chapter Text

Adults failed Izuku from the beginning. He’d learned to endure more than any children should at his age. His mother would scream, she would yell, sometimes she grabbed him but she didn’t hit him. Izuku knew it was wrong but it wasn’t as bad as other people had it. His mother would keep him inside, he was too weak to play with his friends and take a walk.

He cleaned the entire house and began to fear car rides. If he messed up she would explode. His mother manipulated him. “It’s your fault that I cut my hand cutting up the carrots, I wouldn’t be hurt if you didn’t insist on having dinner.”

It was funny, Izuku thought that when she screamed that she would kill him, he wasn’t as scared or as desperate as when she said she’d kill herself. Because it was always his fault.

His father, Izuku always favored his father, in the beginning he just loved him because daddy didn’t yell at him like mommy did, daddy didn’t hurt him or make him cry. But he would make Izuku work without paying him, not caring if he cried or got hurt. “Stop crying. Now.”

But worst of all, Izuku watched as a small child, watched as his mother threw knives at daddy, screaming about divorce, slapping him, screaming at daddy. Izuku watched as he grew up, to the age of three and he watched as his mother’s sharp words and threats, her manipulation turned to him, a child. And he watched as his father did nothing, nothing at all to stop it.

And it hurt when daddy said it was his fault, that he shouldn’t have provoked her. Daddy didn’t scream, but daddy did other things, Izuku wanted to buy a doll or go to an amusem*nt park, but even though daddy went to work every day from 7 am to 9 pm, there was no money, daddy refused to pay. Izuku often wondered where it all went if daddy was working that much and izuku wasn’t allowed to buy anything.

Adults failed him again when Izuku learned the phone number of CPS, he called and told them how his mommy yelled at him and daddy told him it was his fault. He saw how they didn’t believe him, and called his mother to “confirm” his claims, how they dropped the case and left Izuku to deal with the repercussions of the call.

Adults failed yet Izuku again when Kacchan blew him up with his quirk, watched, always watched as they turned their head or ruffled Kacchan's hair, watched as when he told they shifted the blame onto izuku. Izuku watched as they praised kacchan’s strong quirk and he basked under the attention. Izuku watched as they told him that a quirkless kid, no matter how smart, would never get into UA.

And Izuku watched, kept watching with those big green eyes as All Might declared to the cameras that he was there, now that he was there, they were safe, and he would save everyone. Izuku watched the window, waiting for the day All Might would save him.

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Now Izuku watched, his eyes watering as the sludge villain tried to take over his body. Nobody was coming. He took his years of watching, analysing villains, and heroes, along with his natural common smarts to take down the villain and stuff him into his thermos which once held his lunch.

He sat and watched as All Might popped out of the sewer ten minutes later, declaring that he was there, and not to fear. Izuku watched as All Might smiled as if nothing was wrong, as if Izuku wouldn’t be dead by the time he got there if he didn’t act as quickly as he had. Izuku saw the confusion in All Might’s eyes at the lack of reaction Izuku had to his appearance.

Izuku watched All Might’s eyes harden as he crushed Izuku’s dreams of being a hero without a second thought. Izuku watched as All Might readied himself to jump away with the villain Izuku caught to claim he had apprehended the villain himself.

And Izuku snapped.

“I can take that villain to the police station.” Izuku spat out at the number one hero.

“Young man I cannot let myself burden you with a villain like th-” All might started to declare

“If you go now then you’ll deflate mid air and the public will realise how much of a weakling their precious number one hero is.” Izuku snapped

“Young man I don’t underst-” Izuku watched the alert in All Might’s eyes with relish.

“It’s not that hard to tell honestly, why would the number one hero start to weaken so quickly? If he’s the number one hero, why are his shifts so short? Face it All Might your time is up, but be my guest, take it to the station in your gaunt civilian form.” Izuku rambled angrily.
“How do you know this? Who told y-” All Might questioned in a threatening tone.

Izuku scoffed at how amusing and ironic the situation was.

“What? Don’t believe a quirkless kid could find out your number one secret? Think again Toshinori, I’m not as dumb as I look.” Izuku said.

“I just-” All might began again.

“You know what, go turn that villain into the police station, maybe you’ll find a proper successor on the way. Or should i say, a proper vessel.” Izuku mused, lazily waving a goodbye as he walked back to his house.

Izuku wasn’t surprised when All Might followed him.

“That is hi-” All Might started.

“Highly confidential information young man.” Izuku interrupted in a mocking voice

“Oh, but now that I’ve found out you’re not a complete dumbass would you please be my successor.” The green haired boy continued in his parody of All Might’s voice.

“How-” Izuku cut off the smiling man again, wanting to continue his streak of interrupting the number one hero.

“Shouldn’t you be saving someone, All Might?” Izuku sneered as he said the hero’s name, “I hope we never meet again.” He finished walking away from the confused man.

Izuku wasn’t surprised when All Might didn’t follow him.

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Toshinori frowned as he watched the boy walk away. What was he so angry for? He’d only told him the truth. Furthermore, he was sure that the sludge victim had a quirk. Mind reading maybe? Boosted intelligence? Analysing?

But one thing was for sure, that boy was not normal.

The number one hero shrugged, the boy knew his secret, but who would listen? Who would believe him? It was his word against All Might’s.

He flipped the thermos in his hands and walked to the police station, completely disregarding and forgetting the boy he’d just spoken to.

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In all honesty, Izuku really didn’t want to go home, he wished he hadn’t met All Might so he could at least go around town without getting his dreams brutally crushed.

Last night was a bad night, Mommy had sent a threatening text to his father, it said. “I'm going to kill myself.” Now to the normal person it seemed like a cry for help, a sad plea or a serious text that would result in a suicide. Izuku knew better, it wouldn’t result in a tragic suicide of a “loved mother and wife” only a day of waiting on his mother and her yelling at him for not doing anything right.

Izuku always hated it when his mother got hurt. And again, an average person would think that it was sweet he worried about her handling kitchen knives, “What a good son.” They would proclaim.

But no, Izuku hated it because she would get irrationally angry that she had cut herself, and for the next week at minimum would have Izuku and his father waiting on her. The worst part was, she wouldn’t show them the cut, and even if it was on her finger, she would simply recline in a chair and demand water as if her legs had been cut off rather than a knick on her hand.

He knows it sounds bad but when his mother cried or hurt herself, he couldn’t bring himself to believe it or empathise with her. It always seemed so fake and she was always so high maintenance afterwards.

He fiddled with a lock of his green hair, staring at the cracks in the cement on his walk back to his house, deep in thought, not bothering to look where he was going.

God, I don’t want to be at the house, she’s gonna be so f*cking annoying and I bet she’ll yell at me. Maybe if I stay in my room- no then she’ll call me a lazy sh*t and make me clean the house. I don’t really want to go anywhere else, I’m feeling bad and I don’t think I could deal with her without retaliating and god knows that only makes it wor-

Izuku’s thoughts stopped as his head rammed into something, he looked up, his face paling, not something, someone.

“Watch where you’re going sh*tty Deku.” Kacchan sneered at him, palm raised threateningly.

Izuku winced and avoided eye contact with the taller, more violent boy.

“I-I’m sorry Kacchan.” Izuku stuttered, he’d stopped stuttering years ago but it always started back up when he was around Kacchan.

“Shut up quirkless nerd.” Kacchan pushed him to the ground, Izuku didn’t even wince as his elbow scraped the rough concrete. Kacchan ripped off Izuku’s backpack and pulled out his notebook.

“What the f*ck is this? You still want to be a hero? When will you just f*cking give up?” Kacchan berated.

“I-I-I…” Izuku stammered, unsure of his view of heroes now. HIs eyes watered, sh*t, not now.

“Awww, are you gonna cry?” Kacchan mocked.

“Listen Deku,” He spat the name out hatefully, “If you really want to be a hero that badly, why don’t you take a swan dive off the roof and hope you’re born with a quirk next life?” The red eyed boy held the notebook in his hands and threw it into a puddle on the street.

“Kacchan!” The ten year old cried out in horror.

“Don’t call me that dumbass name.” The other spat out, walking away with his hands in his pockets, back hunched, and a glare on his face.

Izuku simply sat in the middle of the sidewalk feeling completely alone. A heavy feeling settled deep inside of him as he cried, knees to his chest. It’s hard to describe what it feels like, crying in complete pain, crying for your life.

Gut wrenching sobs left his body as he convulsed slightly in pain, his lungs hurt. He couldn’t breathe, tears were streaming down his face as sharp aches stabbed his chest. Izuku doesn’t know how long he cried for, only that the sun was shining west and the air was colder than when he met Kacchan. He wiped the tears off from under his chin and tilted his head back to stop the new ones trying to force themselves from his eyes. His sleeve grew dark and wet as he wiped his cheeks with the rough fabric, not caring if it grew red.

Izuku picked his throbbing body off the cement, indents of the ground bright pink on his arm. He shook the small pieces of loose concrete off of his body and walked over to his wrinkled, damp notebook. He’d have to rewrite it later tonight.

The preteen mopped the snot that was trickling out of his nose with the hem of his shirt and restarted his walk to his house. However, when he reached the door he hesitated, the sun was beginning to set and that meant he’d been crying for nearly four hours now.

That wasn’t why he hesitated though. No, Izuku knew his face wouldn’t be puffy or red, he knew his eyes wouldn’t be bloodshot or watery, his nose wouldn’t sniffle and even if he didn’t smile to try and cover up evidence of his earlier breakdown, nobody would be able to tell.

His mother made sure of that.

Izuku walked away from the door and to the polluted beach. He was bringing up bad memories and that would only leave him more raw and sensitive to whatever happened when he entered his house.

The boy recalled the times she would scream at him and cry and yell and shake in rage as she drove the car. Izuku remembered how she would make him cry and beg her to stop, how she would grab his arm and make him bleed, only to later deny that and say it was simply a hangnail. His face remained impassive as he thought about the multiple times she would scream and scream and threaten him in the car driving top speed, even pulling over to push him out of the car without a phone or any means of communication at times.

The many memories of her training him pushed their way through. They all started the same. The child would say the wrong thing and as his father said, she would “blow up” because his father refused to admit it wasn’t Izuku’s fault. And then his mother would make sure Izuku was crying for a minimum of fifteen minutes before parking in front of a grocery store, her own tears suddenly gone (this was when Izuku began to doubt the reality of her suffering), and a still sniffling and upset Izuku in tow, her cold hand wrapped around his wrist as she pulled him into the store.

It was the worst, he’d be forced to stop crying as soon as the car door clicked open, he’d wipe his face with his sleeve before she pulled him in, and after that he was on his own. He couldn’t look like he was crying, so he trained like that, his face’s puffiness going down in record time. He suspects that it was a survival instinct in his body. After five years of this, nobody could tell he had cried, no matter how violent, or how long. Nobody ever noticed. The consequence of them noticing was worse than bottling up his anger and sadness. The pure dread that sliced through him as he grew paranoid of whispers. What if they had noticed?

Izuku shook his head, they wouldn’t notice. They never did. The greenette looked up at the sky, which had grown to become a light purple, the first stars twinkling brightly at him. Not a cloud in the sky. The boy knew that weather wouldn’t always match how horrid his day was. If it did then he was sure it would most always be raining.

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Izuku slowly walked upstairs, groggy from working to complete his mother’s demands to a satisfactory degree (spoiler, he didn’t), enduring the tense atmosphere as she questioned him in that tone that rang danger bells in his head, meeting all might, fighting a villain, kacchan, and- Izuku shook his head. He didn’t want to think about it. He didn’t like thinking about it, much less talking about it. Plus training didn’t stop him from being a crybaby, and he truly hated crying. But even acknowledging it left an ugly feeling in his stomach, made him want to writhe around in borderline disgust.

So the quirkless boy dug his face into the pillow and tried to forget, taking a deep breath much later as he started to suffocate himself. That sick feeling was here again, it made him scared, made it hard to breathe, made him want to curl up and cry, made him wonder if his brain was right, made him want to beg whatever god was out there to stop it. The feeling of wanting to die.

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Izuku accepted the graduation diploma with little fanfare, it wasn’t like he was expecting the praise Kacchan had gotten. While the blonde received pats on the back and smalltalk about vacation, Izuku received nothing but a piece of paper and the feeling that he’d achieved nothing.

The quirkless ten year old mopped the floors of his classroom at the end of the day and said goodbye to his teachers, sliding closed the doors and walking out of the school for the last time. It was much less dramatic than Izuku expected

Izuku’s walk home from his last day of elementary school was nowhere near as eventful as the day before. He watched clouds roll by lazily in the blue sky, walked through the cherry blossoms trees as petals fluttered down onto his hair. The sunlight danced around buildings and glared off of the glass windows.

Although it was spring, the weather was still fairly chilly so he stopped to retrieve his coat from his backpack and-

A scream.

He looked around him, people were flocking into a crowd where a cloud of smoke steadily rose. The old Izuku would’ve gone running, notebook in hand as he watched the fight with his eyes shining hopefully. And Izuku hesitated. As long as it wasn’t All Might it would be fine, right? He shrugged on his jacket and pulled out his notebook, sprinting towards the fight and analysing the hero and villain.

After the fight ended Izuku pondered his position on heroes. All MIght himself had said Izuku could never be one. But maybe Izuku could prove him wrong.

“Take a swan dive off the roof and hope you’ll be born with a quirk next life.” His run in with Kacchan flashed in his head.

Izuku wilted, they were right. He really couldn’t be a hero.

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Today had been a good day, Bakugou hadn’t chased after him or attacked him. His mother was in a good mood and Izuku had been extra careful with his words, rewarding him with a peaceful night.

He’d been on his way to put trash in the dumpster when he heard it.

“Are you sure this is the one?” A deep voice asked.

“Yep, fits the description perfectly.” A squeaky voice replied.

Izuku felt two sets of eyes burning into his back. He heard the shifting of one and the rustle of cloth. The boy knew from years of experience this was going to be a surprise attack.

Izuku spun around and blocked the villain’s attack. The quirkless boy wasn’t dumb, he didn’t know this man’s quirk and was definetly at a disadvantage here, Izuku’s years of physical training would help him, but now was not the time to take chances. He saw a flash of ivory skin and a trail of long black hair out of the corner of his eye.

Right as the villain recovered he charged at Izuku with an enraged look on his face. The younger immediately went into analysis mode.

Most villains either have a quirk that’s nearly useless in combat terms or have a quirk which would scare others. Izuku never made the mistake of underestimating his opponent so he did the thing he was best at. He ran.

Izuku sprinted away from the dumpster, his brain searching for a quick way out of the situation as the villain’s footsteps grew louder and a crackle of electricity sounded in his ears. He’d just about come to terms with his early death when a bored drawl came out.

“Chasing after kids now?” A white capture weapon shot out and wrapped around the villain, rendering him helpless.

Izuku was shocked when he came face to face with EraserHead. Internally, he was screaming, but externally he held a blank face. He was still on tentative terms with heroism.

“Hey kid, you okay?” Eraser Head asked, “Where are your parents?”

Izuku stayed quiet for a moment of shock before simply saying, “You’re EraserHead.”

The pro hero’s eyes widened and he looked surprised that the kid recognised him so quickly, especially since he was an underground hero for a reason. He quickly schooled his expression back to his signature apathetic look.

“Do you want to come with me to turn this villain in and I can walk you back home?” Eraser Head asked, needing a statement from him and not feeling comfortable leaving the kid alone right after a villain attack.

“Ok, thank you EraserHead.” Izuku bowed.

“My name’s Aiza-” Aizawa started.

“Aizawa Shouta, I know.” Izuku interrupted tensely.

The hero looked at the child in shock. He was an underground hero wasn’t he? How the hell did this kid know his name?

Meanwhile Izuku purposefully made distance between him and Aizawa. He didn’t trust him. Adults always failed him, why was this any different?

Aizawa noticed the kid’s nervousness and sighed.

“Come on let’s get going….?” He paused to prompt Izuku to give him his name.

“Why do you need to know that?” Izuku asked defensively. In the back of his mind, he knew it was a common gesture, but his instincts rang danger bells in his head.

Aizawa sighed, walking in silence, if the child didn’t want to tell him he didn’t have to.

I did just save his life, Aizawa reasoned to himself.

The villain struggled against Aizawa’s capture weapon, but without his quirk he was useless.

The hero pretended not to notice the bright green eyes burning holes in the back of his head.

Izuku watched Aizawa. He muttered notes to himself, analysing the older man.

They continued in near silence, the only sounds being Izuku’s quiet muttering and the faint honking of cars from the nearby highway. When they had stopped at the crosswalk on the way to the station, Izuku pulled out his phone, typing furiously and tapping at something before quickly putting it away and crossing the street.

Aizawa stopped suddenly as he reached the police station. He turned to the short boy and prepared himself for a tough conversation.

“I would like you to come in with me to the police station.” He started holding up his hand when Izuku opened his mouth to object or question his motives. “You are a witness and a victim of a villain attack. They’ll need a statement from you so the villain can be arrested and I won’t be.”

“Why would you be arrested?” Izuku questioned, didn’t they have hero licenses for a reason?

“Even if I am a hero, technically I could use my quirk to hurt people without a true cause. It’s a dumb law, but having you as a witness would save me loads of paperwork and you’d have to be interrogated anyways.” Aizawa finished. He studied the boy’s face. Now Aizawa prided himself in being able to read people but for some reason this kid was like a blank piece of paper. He showed no emotion other than hostility.

“..Ok.” Izuku bit his lip, a little bit worried about being gone for so long. His parents would never let him out after this. Oh god, he’d ruined it all. It was such a good day too. His mom hadn’t yelled or used that tone that sent shivers up his spine. He clenched his jaw. What a waste.

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Izuku walked up to open the door for the underground hero who nodded his head in thanks before dragging in the villain. He stepped into the cold station. Immediately the boy made himself aware of his surroundings. Eight security cameras that he was aware of, and more that were definitely beyond his view. Three outside in front, one facing the entrance, one in the hall, one at the front desk, one hidden in the flowerpot to Aizawa’s right, and one in the vent at the top right corner of the room, giving it a full view of the lobby.

He made eye contact with each of them briefly before noting all other items in his view. A coffee machine, three years old, cheap, probably from Costco, one cup of coffee, judging from the lack of steam coming from it, an officer with a late shift had subconsciously prepared it and then left it there. There were three metal chairs with rubber cushions behind him, a fake plant on each side. The front desk had three computers on it and Izuku was sure there was a gun in the drawer.

The receptionist was a man with a mutant quirk. He was yellow and had eyes all over his body. Izuku thought it was overkill, eight cameras and a man with eyes all over his body? He had a belt on with handcuffs that clinked happily as he shifted around on his office chair.

Aizawa noticed the boy relax his shoulders after glancing around the station for about half a minute. He’d finished signing the initial paperwork so he handed the clipboard back to the receptionist who gestured for Aizawa to follow him. The hero sighed and looked down at the boy he’d brought in. He was wary of the policemen and looked up at Aizawa as if to confirm it was safe.

He nodded and they silently followed the man with the mutant quirk to the back doors. Izuku listened as the man punched in the code to enter the office. Each touch of the keypad making a beep.

68349, Izuku thinks to himself as he walks into the office. It’s relatively quiet but there are around six officers there. Two are working in cubicles, typing away at their desktop computers. One is watching another interrogate a man with glowing blue hair through a one way mirror. Another is simply standing guard, and the last one is speaking with Aizawa.

“EraserHead! Who do we have today?” The officer greets in a friendly tone. Izuku backs up slightly, watching the man closely. He knew that appearances and tones could be deceiving.

“A lowlife villain, attacked this kid” Aizawa gestured to Izuku, “for some reason. Came across him chasing the kid around and trying to hit him with a lightning quirk. But I brought him to you because he’s got the mark.”

The officer narrowed his eyes. Izuku kept watching the man. He wasn’t an officer, Izuku realised. No, this man was a detective. He looked at the villain’s wrist and saw a brand in the shape of a sun. He studied it for a second, it was done by someone inexperienced. Either the leader of whatever organisation this is or done by a person new to the art.

From what Izuku had seen, the villain’s quirk wasn’t that strong but the situation was confusing. Electric type quirks were valuable and had many opportunities for employment as they could be so useful. Even if he had villainous intent he would be more successful working for a normal job and getting paid a lot and then just blowing the place up. Either they’ve got dirt on him or the pay’s good.

The gang must’ve been rich, Izuku muses. He remembers his attacker having a brand new rolex on his left wrist. He must’ve hidden it when EraserHead showed up. The villain’s gear was also made of good material, high quality insulating material made for winter. And it was armored. When Izuku blocked his punch he could see the metal woven into the fabric.

However the punch was badly thrown and he had horrible reflexes and truly didn’t know how to fight. Maybe they don’t train them? Or maybe, they send all their low level thugs first and if their victim somehow gets away they increase the difficulty.

Izuku kept his thoughts to himself and continued watching his surroundings.

The detective shared a silent conversation with Aizawa before gesturing towards the officer standing guard.

“Take him to an interrogation room please.” The detective ordered. Izuku felt his gaze shift off of the villain and onto him. He met his eyes and did what he always did. Izuku watched. He watched the detective’s schooled expression and found the cracks in his mask. He wasn’t an immediate threat, but he was curious. Izuku’s guard lowered slightly but he stayed suspicious of the detective.

Said detective crouched down to Izuku’s height and the ten year old boy felt a spike of irritation at being treated like a child.

“Hi there buddy, my name’s Detective Tsukauchi, in a minute I’m going to be asking you some questions. What’s your name?” He said in a quiet, kind voice that one would use with a toddler.

Izuku made a face and kept his mouth clamped shut, staring at the detective with eyes that just screamed, “shut the f*ck up”.

Detective Tsukauchi’s eyes widened in surprise at both the boy’s lack of cooperation and the intense anger radiation from him.

Aizawa groaned and took matters into his own hands.

“Tsukauchi, he’s not a baby,” EraserHead bowed slightly in apology to the boy, “sorry about him, would you be okay answering some questions?” He asked hopefully. The kid would be saving him tons of paperwork and be giving Tsukauchi valuable information about an up and coming gang.

Izuku stayed quiet for a bit longer weighing the pros and cons. He was wary of the detective, he didn’t know his quirk, and based off of his line of work it probably wasn’t physical. The ten year old replied with a carefully phrased answer.

“Do I have to answer all of them?”

Both of the adults looked surprised for a moment but quickly assured the kid that he only had to answer what he was comfortable with.

Izuku followed them warily as they led him towards an interrogation room. Aizawa stood in front of the two way mirror outside of the room as Tsukauchi led the boy in and gestured to the empty seat at the far side of the table.

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Aizawa yawned and then shivered with the unmistakable feeling of being watched. He saw the boy was making direct eye contact with him despite the mirror, his gaze giving Aizawa the feeling that he was responsible for this kid and his safety.

Tsukauchi was quiet for a moment. He started off by thanking the kid for speaking with him. Izuku nodded in response.

“Ok so let’s start off with basic information. What’s your name?” He asked what seemed like a harmless question.

“Why do you need to know?” Izuku gave the same answer he gave Aizawa. He never took his eyes off of the place where Aizawa was standing.

“You realise we could just run your face, right?” Tsukauchi retorted, realising this kid would be a difficult interview.

The boy snorted, “No you couldn’t.” Izuku knew his parents hadn’t registered him. He wondered if it was to keep the government off of their back for their blatant mistreatment.

“Why do you say that?” Tsukauchi asked in a shocked voice. His quirk had registered the boy’s words as true.

“I don’t see what this has to do with the investigation.” Izuku replied.

“That’s a lie.” Tsukauchi said as his quirk registered the words.

“Oh? So that’s what it is.” Izuku simply replied, he hated quirks like these.

“We need this information because the villain targeting you is part of a gang and they’ve been kidnapping people. We are trying to find a connection.” Tsukauchi said in an urgent voice.

“I know.”

The detective’s eyes widened as his quirk registered truth. He wasn’t paid enough to deal with this sh*t.

“If you don’t cooperate then we will have to arrest you for using your quirk in public.”

“Oh so you’re resorting to blackmail now, guess the police aren’t as honourable as they say. What makes you say I used my quirk?” Izuku snorted.

Tsukauchi dug his nails into his palms, leaving his knuckles white as he tried to keep his voice steady.

“EraserHead reports you were able to run from a villain with a lightning qui-” Tsukauchi stopped. The kid was right, he could’ve just been a fast runner. There was no evidence of a quirk.

“How about this, can I ask you a question and you ask me one? One veto each.” Izuku’s eyes twinkled. He really wanted to know more about this guy’s quirk.

Tsukauchi nodded his head, now wary of the young boy sitting before him.

“I’ll go first!” A smile graced the boy’s lips and Tsukauchi couldn’t help thinking it didn’t suit him.

“Does you quirk work even if you're not the one asking questions?” Izuku asked, eyes sparkling with curiosity.

“Uh, yes it does.” Tsukauchi says, taken aback by the innocent question.

The detective pondered his question for a bit, he would only be able to ask as many questions about the mysterious boy as he had about his quirk. Tsukauchi had to make them count.

“How did you meet the villain?” He asked, phrasing the question so the boy would have to give him information about the case.

Izuku smirked, knowing he could get out of answering the way he wanted without setting off the lie detector. However, Izuku knew he favoured underground heroes and even if he wasn’t on board with heroes in general, he liked Aizawa, Aizawa felt safe. He shakes his head, no, Aizawa’s an adult. Izuku doesn’t trust adults.

However much Izuku has come to terms with disliking heroes and adults, he’s pissed off that the villains came after him.

“I was going to the dumpster to throw out the trash and I heard two people discussing something about “being sure he’s the one” and then that dude attacked me.” Izuku answers the question with an adequate amount of detail.

“What do they mean he’s the one? Did they say anything else? What’s the criteria for being kidnapped? Did you see the other perso-” Tsukauchi starts rapid firing questions at Izuku, standing up in the intensity of it all.

“Hold on, I thought it was my turn to ask a question” Izuku interrupts. Tsukauchi sits back down.

“Do you have to activate your quirk or is it always on?” The boy asks, excited once again about the detective’s quirk.

“It’s always on.” The detective answers quickly, wanting to move on with the interrogation.

“Ah interesting. That must be a pain.” Izuku muses.

“Wh-” Tsukauchi wants to ask what the boy means but he refrains himself.

“I’m getting kinda bored, can we speed it up?” Izuku groans.
“Can you describe the other person at the scene?” Tsukauchi hopes the boy doesn’t answer ‘yes’ and then move on.

“Not really, I’m gonna help you out here. Their voice was squeaky, might’ve been a girl based on what I saw but who am I to assume someone’s pronouns? I think they had white skin, like really really white, and long black hair. But that’s all I know.” Izuku answered easily.

“I want to ask EraserHead a question.” Izuku stared at the spot where the man in question was.

“Why should I let you?” Tsukauchi challenges.

“It’s not your turn to ask a question, detective.” Izuku raises his eyebrow.

“If we let EraserHead in so you can ask him a question then he has to be able to ask you one.” Tsukauchi attempts to make a deal.

Izuku thinks it over for a minute and nods his head. A buzzer can be heard as Aizawa enters the room.

“Your quirk deactivates when you blink your eyes, but when you look away and keep your eyes open does the effect end on that person or does it continue until you blink no matter where you are?” The dark haired boy asks, seeming twice as excited about Aizawa’s quirk than Tsukauchi’s.

“My quirk affects whoever I’m focusing on until I blink.” Aizawa answers in a monotone voice.

“Wow, that’s so cool.” Izuku melts in adoration and the two men widen their eyes at such a large display of emotion.

“Ok then, what’s your name?” Aizawa asks. He really can’t keep referring to him as ‘that kid’ to himself.

“Veto” Izuku says, staring the man straight in the eyes.

“Different question then. What were your thoughts on the villain?” Aizawa’s eyes sparkle. THis kid was intelligent. He wanted to see what he had to say about the case.

“Oh, um, I think the gang’s either got dirt on him or they pay him a sh*t load. They didn’t train him though. And the gang is rich, really rich. I actually think they might be located in the hotel two blocks away. The man who attacked me had this key card in his pocket.” Izuku holds the card up between two fingers with an innocent look on his face.

Aizawa explodes into a sh*t eating grin.

“There you go Tsukauchi.” He stands up to leave.

“Wait.” He stops right before the door, hearing the kid’s voice.

“I still have one more question.”

Chapter 2

Chapter Text

The principal of UA High School paces his office. Aizawa had called him. Aizawa never called him. Knowing Aizawa that meant it was important. This was the only option.

Nedzu watches the security cameras flash and go dark. He widens his eyes. Quickly he grows anxious, annoyed. He needed to see everything, needed to hear everything, needed to know everything.

He sits on a chair facing the sofa in his office. A cup of tea in hand and two cups sitting on the table in front of him. His ears perk up lightly and he sniffs the air.

Right as Aizawa is about to knock on the door, Nedzu is there, grinning unnaturally.

“Come in, come in!” He climbs back onto the chair and gestures to the couch in front of him and his eyes narrow dangerously,

“I’ve been waiting for you.”

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Izuku's scared of adults for obvious reasons. But teachers were even worse. Why though? His mother wasn’t a teacher, neither was his father. And Izuku denies the Bakugou theory.

Well it was because Izuku was a good student. A great one even. But sometimes he would forget to do an assignment, and then he’d be too stressed out about said assignment that he would feel sick to his stomach, throwing up and crying when he thought about it too much. It got so bad that he couldn’t even look or do the assignment, the thought of it made him sick. How could he do it?

But then one day late turned into a week and a week turned into a month and Izuku would be significantly skinnier than before the assignment had happened.

It got even worse when the teacher would pull him aside and say,

“Izuku I’m going to have to email your mother about this.”

“B-b-but you didn’t give me a warning!” He would protest.

“You’ve had a month, that’s plenty of time.”

“Ok…”

“Now you should tell your mother before I send the email ok?”

Here’s where it gets bad. If he tells his mother then she will yell and scream and it will be so so so scary. And it will happen in the car. But then Izuku would have a clear conscience.

If he didn’t tell her she might not see it, and if she didn’t see it then they would call her in, bring him to the office and tell her. The worst part was that they saw. They watched. Everyone heard when Inko screamed and yelled and her voice went hoarse. And they just sat there. Yet STILL they called her and emailed her and watched and made sure Izuku would tell his mother because that was ‘the only way they could make him turn it in’. Izuku wishes they had at least tried to reach out to him and ask him what was wrong. He wishes they had tried.

The teachers had watched him cry and sit there and dissociate and they continued to call her, even increased the amount of calls. If the assignment was just one day late. They would call.

Sometimes Izuku dreams of a world where he could’ve felt safe staying after class and talking to a teacher and telling them why he didn’t do it or how he was struggling. But Izuku was never even given a chance.

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Izuku squirms under the heavy gaze of Nedzu, bad memories surfacing as he stares at the tile that looked so much like his old classroom’s.

“H-hi! Thank you for letting us come here.” Izuku bows as he enters the room.

“Of course! Am I a dog? Am I a bear? Am I a mouse? I’m UA’s principal Nedzu!” He says cheerfully and takes a sip from his tea.

Izuku co*cks his head to the side.

“But you’re not a dog, bear, or mouse. You’re an albino stoat. Are you wearing contacts?” Izuku asks bluntly.

The principal nearly chokes on his tea. The stoat slowly lowers his cup onto the table and turns to Aizawa.

“Who is this boy?” Nedzu’s eyes are glittering with malice and he has a manic look on his face. He needs to know who this boy is, he needs to know everything.

“He won’t tell anyone his name. About two hours back he got attacked by a villain, nicked his keycard off of him and wouldn’t give it to us until he met you. Speaking of which.” Aizawa holds out his hand.

“It’s in your pocket.” Izuku says as he takes a sip of the tea in front of him, looking like a miniature (regardless of the fact Nedzu is much smaller than the human) Nedzu.

Aizawa stares at him and jabs his hand into his front pocket, pulling out the keycard. He slowly gets up and leaves the room.

As soon as the door closes behind him he grinds his teeth and has the sudden urge to scream.

“God I f*cking hate that kid.” He walks down the steps out of the building. Unable to get said kid out of his head.

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“Now, where were we?” Nedzu’s beady eyes stare into Izuku’s own.

“We weren’t anywhere, sir.” Izuku answers easily.

“I’m assuming you won’t be giving me your name.” Nedzu remarks in a sad tone.

“Not that easily.” Izuku snorts into his tea.

“You’re the one who disabled the cameras.”

“If it took you that long to figure out then I’m afraid I’ve overestimated you.”

“I have hated humans all my lif-” The stoat begins.

Izuku puts his teacup down with a crash, broken glass in his hands. They’re bleeding.

“If you ever try to manipulate me again,” Nedzu jumps in surprise as bright green eyes filled with murderous intent meet his own, “I won’t kill you. I’ll do something worse.”

Nedzu keeps an easy smile on his face but he’s a bit put off and very amused and impressed by this boy. He’ll have to ask just where Aizawa found him.

“Well done. I will assume again that you have lots of experience with manipulation?” Nedzu sets his cup down. He has every intention of keeping this conversation going as long as possible.

“Enough.” Izuku leans back into the couch. He spots the principal’s eyes flickering down at the blood hungrily.

“If you want a DNA sample that bad you can have it. You won’t be able to find anything.” The boy challenges.

“Well then,” UA’s principal hops off of his chair and presses a button underneath the table. A chessboard rises out of the table, already set up and ready for playing.

“How about a game of chess?” The principal has a gleam in his eye.

“What’re you gonna offer me to make me accept?” Izuku fiddles with his fingers.

“For every piece you take, you get to ask me a question, and for every piece I take, I get to ask you a question. If you win you can ask me for whatever it is you came here for, If I win then you tell me your name and we simply move on with our lives.” Nedzu looks up at the boy who is weighing the pros and cons.

“No vetoes?” The stoat shakes his head.

“I accept your challenge.” Izuku locks eyes with the principal who grins back at him.

Izuku takes Nedzu’s pawn.

“Why do you hate humans?”

“I was tested on for many years by humans because of the nature of my quirk.”

Nedzu takes Izuku’s pawn.

“Why do you hate humans?”

“I don’t hate humans. I hate adults.”

Nedzu takes Izuku’s pawn.

“Why do you hate adults?”

“Adults have always failed me.”

Izuku takes Nedzu’s pawn.

“What’s your opinion on All Might?”

“I have no bad opinions about him.”

Nedzu takes Izuku’s pawn.

“What’s your opinion on All Might?”

“I only have bad opinions about him.”

Nedzu takes Izuku’s rook.

“What did All Might do?”

“All Might crushed my dreams as if they were nothing.”

Nedzu takes Izuku’s pawn.

“What’s your favourite colour?”

“Red.”

Nedzu takes Izuku’s pawn.

“Do you want to be a hero?”

“Not anymore.”

Izuku takes Nedzu’s bishop.

“Why haven’t you asked about my quirk?”

“It doesn’t seem important at the moment but I am curious.”

Izuku takes Nedzu’s knight.

“Are you a smoker?”

“...Yes I am.”

Nedzu takes Izuku’s pawn.

“How old are you?”

“Ten.”

Izuku takes Nedzu’s pawn.

“What’s your IQ?”

“235”

Izuku takes Nedzu’s pawn.

“What would happen if someone erased your quirk?”

“I’m not sure but I would probably become a typical stoat.”

Nedzu takes Izuku’s bishop.

“What’s your IQ?”

“I don’t know, I’ve never had it tested.”

Nedzu takes Izuku’s queen.

“Have you considered therapy?”

“I would rather die.”

Check. - Nedzu

Izuku takes Nedzu’s bishop.

“Why did you ask me about therapy?”

“I suspect you have been holding a lot in and need to let it out.”

Nedzu takes Izuku’s pawn.

“Do you have an intelligence quirk?”

“Nope.”

Check. - Nedzu

Izuku takes Nedzu’s rook.

“Do you think you are going to win?”

“I will not underestimate you, nor should you underestimate me.”

Nedzu takes Izuku’s rook.

“Are you safe at your house?”

“I’m not sure.”

Nedzu takes Izuku’s knight.

“What is your quirk?”

“I’m quirkless.”

Checkmate. - Izuku

Nedzu sits back in his seat, studying the board and realising that the ten year old does in fact have Nedzu in checkmate.

“That was tough though. You’re super good at chess!!” Izuku is staring at Nedzu in wonder, nearly bursting in the seams as he holds back all his questions about the principal’s quirk.

“Thank you very much, I have to say this is a bit of a shock given I have been previously unbeaten.” Nedzu admits, still a bit shocked that the boy is quirkless.

Izuku rambles on about quirks and chess while Nedzu studies him. Yes, this boy would be dangerous in the future. And Nedzu was going to do everything possible to make sure this boy did not become a villain.

Thank god they weren’t too late.

“Principal Nedzu?” The stoat blinks and nods his head at the boy.

“My name is Izuku Midoriya. Nice to meet you!” Nedzu finds it difficult to believe this beaming boy is the same one who brutally beat him in chess without raising a single alarm in his head.

“Thank you for telling me your name Midoriya. Now, would you like to ask me that question?” He settles in his chair, not knowing what to expect, but pleased the Midoriya told him his name. This is the most excited he’s been in years. God, how Nedzu loves to discover and take apart the unknown. And Midoriya is the human definition of unknown.

“I know that I’m too young to attend UA, but until I can. Will you teach me?” Izuku looks at the principal with stars in his eyes and Nedzu gazes at the boy with confusion. Humans were such confusing creatures.

“I was thinking the same thing. How about Monday, Wednesday, and Fridays at say… 7:00?” The principal smooths his white fur which has been standing on edge since encountering Midoriya.

“Sounds good! Seeya on Monday!” Izuku says as he rushes out the door with an energetic wave to Nedzu.”

As soon as the door closes Nedzu lets out a breath he doesn’t realise he’d been holding. The chessboard is still out and mocking him with the unfamiliar sight of his own king knocked down by a simple pawn.

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Izuku skips out the front doors to UA and hears them crash behind him. He flinches at the noise but proceeds to happily hop out of the gated campus. It takes ten minutes for Izuku to realise Aizawa just won’t give up.

“Aizawa you can stop hiding, I know you’re there.” Izuku comments in an exasperated voice.

“How’d you know?” Aizawa says in a slightly ashamed but curious voice.

“How wouldn’t I know?” The greenette shrugs before holding up a finger. “Please wait for a second.”

Aizawa watches in poorly disguised horror as the kid easily removes several cameras and mics that Nedzu has placed on the boy in hopes of spying on him.

“Honestly did he really think I’d not notice?” Izuku crouches for a second pondering. Something is off.

“Wh-” Aizawa starts, but quickly halts his speech as Izuku curses colourfully and extracts one more small microphone which seems to have been clipped into the boy’s tangled green hair.

“Asshole.” Izuku screams into the microphone before stomping on it and throwing all the remaining scraps of plastic into some poor person’s well groomed yard.

The abnormally short boy spins on his heel and turns to face Aizawa who backs up, his instincts perceiving this boy as a threat.

“Now if you would kindly stop following me,” Izuku prompts, “I’ll be on my way. Seeya!”

Aizawa doesn’t stop trailing him, Izuku notes. A large crunch and a splinter is heard as the underground hero steps on a small pile of gravel and a dead branch of a tree consecutively.

Izuku winces not because of the loud noise this time, but because Aizawa is insufferably bad at being stealthy.

It takes all of thirty seconds for Izuku to give up. He puts his head in his hands and groans loudly.

“If you’re going to be following me and we both know I know it, then you might as well walk next to me.” Izuku remarks in an annoyed voice.

Aizawa has the conscience to look bashful when the boy catches him a second time.

They walk in silence as the frosty wind brushes around them and Izuku wishes he was wearing more than just his hoodie and a pair of jeans.

The ten year old finds himself not annoyed with the watchful gaze Aizawa has on him like he would usually be if it were his mother, instead he feels relaxed and comfortable.

Unfortunately UA is only so far from Izuku’s house. He remembers his parents and how they would react and it feels as though someone dumped a bucket of icy water on him and then punctured his lung.

Aizawa doesn’t attempt to make smalltalk and neither does Izuku, the comfortable silence perfectly fine for him. However, the hero immediately sees the tense of Izuku’s shoulders and jumps on it. The show of emotion is more than he’s seen in Izuku so far. The boy is disturbingly good at schooling his expression and hiding his thoughts.

The black haired man can feel the tension in the air and the way Izuku’s eyes are glazed over. Aizawa would soon figure out that meant Izuku was trying to solve a question of great importance and maybe feeling a bit scared behind all of that. He notes that the kid’s steps are stiff and grow slower with every step.

Aizawa can only take so many side glances filled with nervousness from the boy before he finally cracks.

“What’s wrong? Come on boy, spit it out.” The older man sighs.

“ᴵᵈᵒⁿᵗʷᵃⁿᵗʸᵒᵘᵗᵒʷᵃˡᵏʷᶦᵗʰᵐᵉᵗᵒᵐʸʰᵒᵘˢᵉ” Izuku mutters quietly and so quickly Aizawa has no chance of even trying to comprehending it.

“Speak up please.” Aizawa feels like he’s scolding a little kid. And in a way he supposes he is.

“I don’t want you to come to my house.” Izuku admits.

“Too bad. I’m escorting you whether I have to sneak behind you or not.” Aizawa hufs out, thinking the boy will simply be embarrassed of his house or maybe his parents.

But that’s the thing. He’s right. Izuku is embarrassed of his parents. He’s long ago stopped being scared or angry at them when meeting new people. It’s simply a feeling he can only describe as disgust.

“What can I do to make you not? I mean it’s only a block away now. I’ll be fine.” Izuku grows more desperate with every step.

“Kid, why are you so adamant about this?” Aizawa questions, genuinely confused at the boy’s refusal.

“Why do you need to escort me home? It’s not as if anyone told you to. And though it’s likely we’ll meet again, there’s absolutely no reason you should want to.” Izuku wipes his hands on his jeans and stops, hoping Aizawa will stop too.

By some stroke of luck, the stubborn man stops and makes eye contact with the equally as stubborn, if not more, boy.

“Kid, I’m a hero. This is my job.” Aizawa states, crossing his arms.

The greenette doesn’t know why he feels a pang when Aizawa tells him it’s his job and not because he cares for Iz- no, of course he didn’t. It was just another adult, he hadn’t earned his respect nor his trust. Nedzu is a special case, he’s not a human, he’s an animal, he doesn’t look like the people who’ve hurt Izuku. Izuku has no obligation to obey him or let him see his house.

Aizawa feels a shiver go up his spine as the boy whose eyes were finally gaining warmth and opening up in acceptance stares at him with a face that makes the pro hero wilt slightly. The kid’s face is completely closed up and cold. It’s rejection. His body is angled away from him and his feet are ready to run.

If the hero knows anything about this kid, he knows that every expression of his face and body is completely intentional. You’re supposed to notice, and if you don’t, it’s your loss. Aizawa feels something akin to a wall between him and the boy. The green haired child is staring at him with determined eyes and his body is ready to run. He notes that Izuku must’ve backed up at some point because there’s a small amount of distance between them.

Aizawa feels like he’s miles away.

“Tell me why I should trust you? Tell me what authority you even have to demand to see my house. Isn’t that a bit arrogant of you?” Izuku snaps, a deadly undertone of anger beneath the stoic expression on his face as he speaks tonelessly to the hero.

Aizawa only stares at the space occupied by the kid and can’t help but shiver as if he was thrown into a lake during the middle of winter.

“I-” The hero starts, but he can’t get words out. He’s completely stunned. Izuku is right. But there’s a feeling in his gut. One that longs to protect the kid. He did save him though. However thinking that was enough to make the kid trust him was extremely stupid.

“Okay, Shouta Aizawa, ” Izuku grits out, his face still expressionless and cold, “ My name’s Midoriya Izuku, and I’m telling you to leave me the f*ck alone. Happy?”

Aizawa begins to question if he even is a hero as he watches Midoriya’s small figure fade into the distance.

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It’s late when Izuku quietly opens the unlocked door to his house. The clock in the dining room reads 1:37, the clock on the microwave says 10:15, the oven reads 3:59, and he knows all of them are wrong.

His mother is sitting on the couch in the living room. Izuku thinks it suits her. Maybe the couch is ten feet long, and his 5’2 mother is the only one sitting on it, but it seems as though there’s no room for anyone else. It’s all for her.

There’s a brief moment where he envisions the couch as a throne his mother is sitting on while he kneels before her, his father a knight beside her. However instead of the knight holding the sword to his neck, ready to behead him. The queen herself is. And while the whole kingdom watches, she tells them she’s knighting him. She and Izuku know what is truly happening, and while the knight has no authority over her, he’s a witness, and he can stop her. But he stands there, hands respectively clasped behind his back as he watches and chooses not to interfere. He watches as Izuku cries out and screams for help. The kingdom watches too.

They watch like Izuku has been watching all these years. But unlike Izuku they don’t see the truth. They see a boy that doesn’t deserve to be knighted, they see a trouble maker, a criminal, a boy that should be punished for acting in such a way when the queen was giving him the great honour of being knighted.

The few that do see the truth watch the knight stare on and watch. They watch him not interfere and assume that it must all be okay, that Izuku has done wrong, that if the knight isn’t stopping it there’s either nothing they can do or nothing wrong at all.

“Izuku.” Inko purrs, setting her phone down. The boy in question would bet all of his money (granted that wasn’t very much but it’s all he had” that she was on Facebook, perfecting her profile to show how perfect and happy they are. Maybe she posted a picture of a flower that’s growing well in her garden. People will comment that it’s beautiful and she must be good at gardening. She’ll post a photo of Izuku and the people comment he’s growing tall, that he must be such a good son, that she’s so proud. Every comment is a lie.

Izuku is the one growing the flowers. He’s outside everyday regardless of his health, not allowed inside even for a drink of water until the garden is perfect. Izuku is the one who raised himself. Anything his parents have claimed to teach him is not because they raised him to be, for example, polite. No. They taught him to fear being rude. That he should fear the consequences.

“Hi mommy,” Izuku forces the name out of his mouth, hating how childish it makes him sound.

“How are you?” It’s the smalltalk now, the calm before the storm.

“I was scared Izuku.” She says in a low tone that shoots pure fear through Izuku’s body, knowing the words were as always, a disguised threat.

“I’m sorry mommy, I won’t do it again.” He promises, apologising even though it’s not his fault and he wants to explain it but the less he says, the shorter the conversation, the less material she has to yell at him about.

“Yeah, I know.” Inko’s grip on his wrist tightens and it hurts. The boy doesn’t know when she grabbed him, but he does his best not to flinch as her long nails and dry skin scratch, pull out, and make red marks on his skin. He sees a drop of blood and begins to worry.

If it drops on her, I’m going to die.

He begins to dissociate as she throws her hurtful, quiet words full of threats at him. He doesn’t remember a single word. All he can focus on is the blood, growing larger and heavier, threatening to run down his arm and to his elbow right above her knee.

Izuku tries to move his arm but she has it in a death grip. This makes her angrier. WOrds slip through and stab his heart.

“Useless….Little sh*t…..I wish you…. Dead…. I’m going to…... myself…. All your fault.” He hears familiar harsh words that continue to scare him even after all this time. His eyes sting and prickle as tears cloud his vision. He wants to blink, because his eyes are so dry and the tears hurt but,

If it drops, I’m going to die.

“Yes mommy. I’m sorry mommy.” Izuku repeats those words like a broken radio. He’s focusing too hard on not crying and not letting the blood drop to actually listen to her. Maybe it’s for the best.

But he’s subconsciously listening, he hears every hurtful insult and everytime she spits his name with disgust. How she tells him what he did wrong. The will to tell her what actually happened has never faded but he knows better now. She doesn’t want you to tell the truth. Mommy is never wrong.

His eyes grow wetter as the tear builds up in his eye and catches on his lower eyelashes, ready to fall at any moment. The blood on his arm has trailed down to his elbow, and he feels a pinch on his wrist. Her nails are digging into the cuts there, shaped like fingernails, it’s going to scar.

If it drops, I’m going to die.

He watches the blood on his elbow, it's growing bigger and bigger, unable to support its weight.

His tears aren’t retreating anytime soon, ready to betray him. Izuku watches and readies himself.

If it drops, I’m going to die.

Inko releases his wrist roughly, pushing him back with force.

“Go to bed, I’m too old to deal with this sh*t.” She says, looking away from him.

The blood drops onto the carpet. She hasn’t noticed. Izuku thanks any god that may be out there that she doesn’t see the blood. He puts his arms behind his back and puts pressure on the cuts.

“Yes mommy.” He says obediently, trying to not cause another outburst.

“Oh so I’m old. That’s what you’re saying. Go you don’t even want to look at me. Am I far enough away for you?” She scooches one inch back. Looking at the wall.

“Is this good enough for you? I’m not too close am I?” She sneers at the wall but Izuku winces all the same.

“No, mommy I wasn’t saying tha-” Izuku tries, blanching at the idea of insulting his mother. Because he really didn’t mean anything bad. He didn’t mean it. He didn’t say that right?

But Izuku remembers the fake tears, the screams in the car, the injuries that she didn’t show them. How it all stopped at the most convenient moments. And he can’t feel sorry.

Izuku is quite familiar with manipulation.

“Just go.” She spits out and Izuku stands there for a second before retreating to his room up the stairs, his head hanging low.

Izuku is in the hall in front of his room when he catches his father’s eye. There’s no sympathy. Only slight annoyance and blame. Thanks to Izuku she’d be in a bad mood tomorrow.

The ten year old opens his room, closes the door quietly as possible, and stands there. He’s trying to feel. He wants to feel. He needs to feel. But all Izuku is is numb. Izuku scratches at his legs, his neck, his arms, and tries to feel. He needs to feel something. He feels the scratch of his nails and it grounds him.

Izuku doesn’t scratch himself again after that. He keeps his nails trimmed and tenses his arms when he thinks about it.

But from that day on, Izuku starts to experience what he will soon discover to be called emotional numbness.

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It’s 6:00 am and Izuku is waiting for his alarm to go off, the extra minute of grace he gave himself when he’d set it a few nights ago was useless now.

He didn’t sleep again last night.

Soon Izuku will discover that he has something called insomnia.

One good thing about mornings is that his mother is never up. HIs father is, but Izuku and his father rarely talk. Hisashi doesn’t make the effort Inko does. And Izuku is grateful for that. Smalltalk with Inko can only be described as unbearably awkward, stressful, and energy consuming. He has to form careful responses as to not anger her.

So Izuku doesn’t worry about Inko being up in the morning. She’ll probably not wake up until 2:00. Izuku knows that this is a common occurrence because his elementary school didn’t let him walk home alone, meaning he had to wait for mommy to pick him up because daddy’s in a meeting.

The school would call home and call Inko’s personal number, but she wouldn’t answer. And by the time she woke up, she was thirty minutes late picking Izuku up. But it wouldn’t be until 2:45 that she actually arrived because it was more important for her to send a quick email to her friends than get her son who would be holding back tears of shame as he waited for his mother who was always late to pick him up. Izuku learned to ignore the glances of sympathy and annoyance when his mother was late. After all, you get used to things that happen every day.

Inko wasn’t well rested though. She got an average amount of sleep, yes, but it wasn’t as if she got fourteen hours every night. Izuku often heard his mother coming up the stairs at around 4:00 in the morning. Unlike Izuku she stayed up late by choice.

Maybe as a child this was comforting. If Izuku had a nightmare he could count on her being downstairs to comfort him. But after the age of four, Izuku wasn’t allowed to have nightmares, or at least, they wouldn’t comfort him. He’d be scolded for getting out of bed. Maybe it was because he was quirkless.

Izuku stopped having nightmares years ago. Now he doesn’t dream at all. There’s nothing. He’s lucky if he sleeps more than three hours a night.

Victims of abuse tend to find a reason to justify the abuse or say it’s their fault. Izuku’s reason is that he’s quirkless. But regardless of whether or not Izuku had a quirk or not, the abuse would’ve happened. It’s not his fault. It is never the child’s fault.

Sure, maybe if he had a quirk that was powerful then he would’ve been saved and people would’ve believed him when he built up the courage to admit his situation. Abuse is a cycle, Inko’s parents would beat her with a belt. And although Inko has suffered from abuse as a child and definitely is mentally unstable and in need of therapy that she refuses to get, none of this is Izuku’s fault. This is Inko and Hisashi’s fault. Inko may have been abused in the past, but she should’ve gotten help, she should’ve realised what she’s doing is wrong, she should know she isn’t the center of the world and that not everyone revolves around her. Inko is an adult now.

She needs to take responsibility.

On top of that, Hisashi, despite not having a perfect childhood, has no excuse (not that Inko even has a good one) for the abuse. Hisashi is a witness. Sure he makes the kid work sometimes, sometimes he makes Izuku sad, but he didn’t directly abuse the kid, he’s surely not as bad as Inko, right? Wrong. You wouldn’t say that to a person who watched a serial killer go around murdering people everyday without reporting it. Hisashi has committed a crime.

Izuku is a child, a minor. Izuku is Inko and Hisashi’s child. They are his parents, his guardians. It is their duty to take care of him and protect him and raise him. If Inko wasn’t ready to have a baby, knew she hated kids, knew she had mental health problems, she shouldn’t have had a kid. It sounds harsh, but abuse is unacceptable. If Hisashi wasn’t ready to protect his child at all costs, he should’ve said something, he should’ve said something when Inko was abusing him, he should’ve known better.

They’ve failed Izuku.

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The green haired boy watches as his father grabs an umbrella and raincoat before rushing out the door through the pouring rain so he can get to work.

He’s exhausted, joints groaning and creaking when he moves them, bags under his eyes slightly purple but not noticeable because of Inko’s “training”.
But Izuku would rather bash his head into the wall and finally leave this cruel world than stay home on a rainy day.

He doesn’t have much to do honestly, it's break and middle school doesn’t start for another two week

So Izuku downs a cup of freshly made hot chocolate, cleans his pot, cleans the kitchen, doesn’t bother with breakfast, and ponders on whether or not Inko would want breakfast.

She hates when her food is cold though. If I make her some now it will’ve cooled down by the time she’s up.

He figures that mommy will just eat a handful of almonds for breakfast, and as much as Izuku hates that she’s not being healthy, it’s not as if he’s going to say something.

With the weather forecast’s predictions, he doubts the rain will stop soon. It’s fine though, Izuku happens to love rain with a passion. The only downside of rain is that he can’t wear his red sneakers, and instead has to wear red rain boots.

Izuku grabs the other umbrella and bolts outside, maybe if he runs and the train is late he can get to the mall early and grab some breakfast.

The train is on time for once and Izuku lets himself dry off in vain while waiting for the next one.

He’s able to grab a seat on the train which isn’t as stuffed as typical given how early it is and the weather. But Izuku is a decent person thank you very much, so he offers his seat to an old woman who had been standing up, crushed between people, looking very uncomfortable.

Izuku stares into space, deep in thought. The train has always been a good place to do this.

The freckled boy digs deep inside of him and finds nothing. He tries to feel angry. It doesn’t work. He tries to feel happy because there’s no reason to not feel happy. It doesn’t work.

Izuku finds that the emotional numbness isn’t always present. It’s there though, perhaps as a defense mechanism.

Because in that moment, Izuku just starts to feel. And he’s not even excited about it. He’s just suffocatingly sad. And in that moment, despite Izuku being smushed shoulder to shoulder by people, he feels so overwhelmingly alone.

The kid tries his best to think about food, wonders where to go for an early lunch. But unlike before Izuku notices that the feeling is back. His stomach hurts, and it’s hungry, but the thought of eating anything right now hurts more. He feels slightly nauseous. Maybe he’s coming down with a fever.

It’s been happening on and off for a few months now, Izuku has stopped finding food all that appetizing. It’s just a task to check off of his to do list.

After All Might told him he couldn’t be a hero and left him alone, Izuku had felt like the world was just so hopeless, that the only spark left to motivate him was snuffed out. Everything just stopped being fun and Izuku’s only reason for getting out of bed every morning is his mom.

If I don’t get out of bed she’ll know. I don’t know how. But she will find out. I’m sure of it.

But here, standing on the bus, Izuku feels his stomach completely drop as terror runs through his veins, he’s scared, feels like he’s going to throw up and needs to make sure that he won’t do anything. He rushes off the train as soon as it stops, gripping tight onto his umbrella as he walks into the closest restaurant and grabs a table.

He’s never felt that feeling before. Izuku feels like the world is trying to tell him something. The boy looks around the restaurant looking for anything, a sign that he shouldn’t do this.

If someone doesn’t walk in before I open my eyes in thirty seconds, then I should do it. He rationalizes in his mind.

Izuku doesn’t confess to himself that he’s keeping his eyes closed for a much longer time than thirty seconds but eventually the bell tinkles and the door opens. He lets out a small breath, the sign. It’s there.

Izuku doesn’t tell anyone that the process continues for the next 11 months and it takes Nedzu noticing that his student is more distracted than usual, that he’s waiting for something, for Izuku to stop.

That day on the train, is the first time Izuku feels like he wants to die.

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Nedzu has been staring at Izuku for the past ten minutes. He doesn’t understand. For the first time it’s not exciting or frustrating to not know something. Now he can only feel sad and confused.

“Midoriya?” Nedzu calls, maybe the boy would explain it to him. The principal abandons that plan when Midoriya looks up at him with hopeful eyes that are filled with tears that keep gushing out and Nedzu knows they’ll stop eventually but right now he’s not sure.

“I-I’m sorry. You’re not here for this. I’ll stop.” Midoriya sniffles once.

The principal of UA watches in a mixture of horror, disgust, shame, surprise, curiosity, and wonder as Izuku tilts his head up, moves his eyes around, pinches the skin between his pointer finger and thumb, and wipes his face with his sleeve in less than ten seconds. The routine is smooth and discreet, having a certain flow and ease that Nedzu knows it has been practiced often.

Nedzu is shocked and confused for the third time today when he looks up at Midoriya. Having studied human behavior and biology, the stoat prides himself in knowing exactly what to expect from humans most of the time, but he is an animal who doesn’t understand exactly human morals, and every time Izuku Midoriya comes into his office, Nedzu learns something new.

But this is not what he wants to learn now. Although the phenomenon is one he knows to be possible, he had never expected to see it, most people capable of this aren’t comfortable crying around others. This is extremely rare to see. Nedzu feels a surge of excitement, he’d been wanting to study someone with such skill for years now, having such a small statistic in his office is truly invigorating.

Though Nedzu doesn’t understand many human morals, he himself was tested on and tortured by humans for several years. And it seems the boy in front of him has experienced the same.

The animal is quite familiar with the fact that this ‘skill’ can only occur after extensive training. He knows that the training for this is painful and emotionally exhausting, he knows that seeing this ‘skill’ is once in a lifetime, he knows that this isn’t something you learn to train someone for in school. This is a product of abuse, of someone selfish enough to make sure nobody knew Midoriya had ever cried in his life.

Nedzu read one paper on this. One paper. He didn’t finish it. The training reminded him too much of the lab. He searched more. Nobody knew about this ‘skill’. It was nearly unheard of.

Izuku Midoriya has been crying ever since Nedzu had questioned what the boy was waiting for.

It’s been two hours. Midoriya has been crying for two hours. Nedzu has no idea how to comprehend the reason. Of course it has been discussed in research papers that he’s read but he’d scoffed and wondered why anyone would want that.

He’s an animal. The concept of wanting to kill yourself is completely baffling to him.

But he’s five times as shocked when Izuku wipes off his face after crying for two hours and looks at him.

According to his research on humans, after crying for such an extensive period of time, their face should be swollen, their eyes red, puffy, and wet, their eyelashes dark, curly, and damp, cheeks flushed, nose puffy with snot running out of it, lips puffy and sometimes wet, and the list went on and on.

Here Izuku Midoriya sat looking at him innocently, a slight curve to his lips as if he’s trying ot cover up evidence no longer there. His face is dry, his eyes aren’t puffy at all, nor are they wet. Nothing is red or swollen, nothing is wet or running. This boy looks as if he’d simply been smiling and having a typical conversation for the past two hours.

“Midoriya,” Nedzu leans forward in his seat, not wanting to know the answer to the question he’s about to ask, but still nearly bursting with curiosity at how Midoriya had done that, “do you want to talk about it?”

Nedzu was trying to navigate unexplored territory with his eyes closed. There’s no way he could ever understand what the hell is going on with that boy. But he does know something is wrong.

He’s seen the way Izuku avoids eye contact with Aizawa, how he flinches when the door closes, how he instinctively leans away from the door when an adult enters, how Midoriya keeps a mask of someone emotionless on whenever an adult is in the room other than Nedzu.

“No thank you, I’m fine now,” Midorya lets out a little huff of a laugh and Nedzu thinks it sounds very sad, “sorry about that.”

“Very well.” Nedzu says relieved. The boy is okay now. Wait. He’d forgotten that humans are natural born liars. Midoriya is no exception. Nedzu thinks at least 75% of everything he’s heard the boy say is a lie.

Midoriya excuses himself, saying it’s late and he must go home.

“Midoriya. If you could, please come back tomorrow, same time.”

“Yes Nedzu-san.”

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Izuku strolls into Nedzu’s office as normal, a smug look on his face when the principal is glaring at the chessboard that Izuku had brutally beaten him at two days ago.

“You said if I won then I coul-” Izuku starts, trying his best not to laugh.

“Midoriya please, be quiet.” The principal says with a tinge of pain in his voice.

Nedzu crosses his arms with a huff, and Izuku is surprised because, is the principal of UA pouting??

A grin explodes over Izuku’s face.

It’s been about two years since he met Nedzu and Aizawa. And a year since his breakdown. Izuku made sure nothing happened because he knew they would just fail again, and to his disgust, a pit of guilt settled in his gut when the principal mentioned reporting his parents.

Nedzu still doesn’t know the situation, but he knows Izuku doesn’t have a good relationship with his parents. And for about two months after Midoriya’s Mania™ as Nedzu likes to call it, Izuku and Nedzu just talked about human behavior and Izuku told Nedzu what it was like to want to die. The stoat still doesn’t quite get it but he understands a bit more now.

Izuku is okay now, he really is. The suicidal thoughts pop up sometimes but it’s like it’s all on the back burner now. He’s alive, he’s going through the day as usual, and he’s still struggling with the emotional numbness and those symptoms and that feeling that he will one day learn to be depression. But Izuku is a lot better. He’s not getting help but he’s trying his best. He’s worked hard to get where he is.

“I am older than you, this is a disgrace, I demand a rematch!” Nedzu squeaks out, distressed to the point that he hadn’t made tea for himself and Izuku.

“I won fair and square Nedzu-san. You and I made a deal.” Izuku is scooching closer and closer to the stoat, a sh*t eating grin plastered on his face.

“You almost always win when we play chess, it was an unfair bet and I will not stand for it.” Nedzu objects, wincing as he states his flawed argument.

“This is out of character for you Nedzu-san, what’s the big deal?” Izuku watches in amusem*nt as his mentor plasters himself against the back of his chair to try and get far away from Izuku.

“Actually, this is against the law, to touch without consent. I could offer you something else- anything else actually.” The stoat is grinning hopefully.

“You gave consent when we made the deal and shook on it. I put the same thing on the line as you did. Also isn’t gambling against the law? If you reported me then you would get arrested too.” Izuku reasons, his hands itching to do as Nedzu promised.

“I have security footage of you making the deal, there’s no evidence I agreed to this!” Nedzu said triumphantly.

“Firstly, no you don't. I've disabled your cameras every time I’ve had a lesson with you from the start. Secondly, I’ve got evidence of your agreement.” Izuku waves a voice recorder that he’d stored in his pocket in Nedzu’s face.

If Nedzu could’ve he would’ve paled at the sight. He’s completely outnumbered. Izuku’s logic is flawless! A feat he’d typically award the boy for, especially the manipulation slipped in there that Nedzu has just noticed. But still, he’d made a deal. However, he'd been stalling. The clock didn't lie.

"Ah, but we are out of time! I'll see you again next week Midoriya!" He attampts to push Izuku out of his room and fails.

“Come onnnn Nedzu-san.” Izuku whines, wanting to claim his prize for winning the game of chess.

“If I say yes will you call me Nedzu-sensei?” Nedzu’s eye twitches in annoyance, but he’s going to try to revive at least a little bit of his dignity.

“You’re lucky I even call you Nedzu-san, respect is earned not given. Nobody else get’s be called -san by me, it’s a great honour in my opinion Nedzu-san.” Izuku laughs.

“Just once?” Nedzu suggests weakly, shutting his eyes tightly..

“Ok, Nedzu-sensei.” Izuku says, and Nedzu just knows the boy is smiling.

The principal sighs and sits on the couch next to Izuku.

“Just one.” The principal is staring at Izuku with beady eyes filled with what the boy recognises as murderous intent, but he can’t bring himself to give a sh*t about it.

Izuku squeals as he gets to do exactly as he’d bet on.

The twelve year old softly places his hand on Nedzu’s head, the stoat sitting so still that Izuku isn’t sure he’s breathing.

And oh, oh, oH, it’s so soft. Izuku drags his hand down Nedzu’s head and pets him once, stopping like the deal had stated. The principal is a bit dazed but he hops off the couch and attempts to regain his dignity by teaching Izuku how to use misdirection in a conversation.

A few months later Nedzu takes his revenge after winning a game by the skin of his teeth with the reward of ruffling Izuku’s hair once.

It’s their own little thing. They have chess games once a month and have little bets that Izuku typically wins. The boy is only twelve but he’s smarter than most of the UA students Nedzu has seen graduate from this school.

Aizawa sees Izuku several times in the two years that Nedzu mentors him, but he’s never been able to get a conversation out of him. Maybe Izuku smiles in an attempt to appease him but the hero sees how eager the kid is to get away.

He wonders if one day Midoriya will give him a chance.

Aizawa highly doubts it.

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Midoriya finds himself in quite the predicament.

“Well this is an awkward situation.” Izuku comments as the classmate of Kacchan’s (Izuku’s never been good at names) pins him against the wall of the school.

Maybe Izuku would point out the fact that he feels like a girl in a k-drama if the boy weren’t pinning him against the wall maybe thirty feet above the ground.

“Shut up.” The bully grumbles, waiting for Kacchan’s orders.

“Deku! I asked you where the f*ck you’ve been going to after school!” Kacchan screams up at him.

“My throat’s a little sore, do you think you could get me a coughdrop or maybe yell down my reply for him?” Izuku asks in mock politeness. The bully drops his scowl in shock but he nods.

“HE SAID HE’S BEEN GOING HOME AFTER SCHOOL!” The boy pinning him to wall yells down. He’s good at yelling. Izuku will give him that.

“I’m going to kill you Deku!” Kacchan yells up at him.

Izuku whispers his response to the boy.

“HE SAYS BE MY GUEST!”

“f*ck YOU”

“HE SAYS GET IN LINE.”

“Deku, you'll never be a hero, you piece of sh*t!”

“HE SAYS HE KNOWS”

“Wh-”

“HE ALSO SAYS THAT YOU’RE BEING REAL HEROIC RIGHT NOW.”

“Can you bring me down? I’ll talk to him myself. Thanks for yelling for me.” Izuku deadpans.

“Sure.” They fall. Izuku knows his back is going to be blue and black by tomorrow.

“Deku-” Katsuki seethes. Izuku makes the decision to stop calling him Kacchan right then and there because he’s done giving a f*ck about Katsuki’s feelings.

“Listen Bakguou,” Izuku starts, Katsuki goes silent, shocked that Izuku didn’t use the nickname, “I don’t give a flying f*ck about your superiority complex, I know I can’t be a hero, but with the way you’re turning out, neither can you. I have recordings of you assaulting me and if I want I can bring you to court and make sure you never become a hero. I’m sure UA won’t want a student with a history of being in juvie, right?” Izuku finishes, saying everything in one breath.

“Now, if you’ll excuse me!” Izuku skips happily out the door, and then immediately sobers up when he remembers it’s his thirteenth birthday.

Couldn’t it be a normal day? Why did birthdays even exist? Couldn’t he have been born on leap year so it never happened?

But regardless of what Izuku wants, he can’t change the fact that today’s his birthday.

She’s always hated birthdays.

Chapter 3

Chapter Text

The air surrounding the dinner table is tense as Izuku opens up a present from his mother.

"Oh, it's an All Might poster! Thank you!" He says animatedly, his hatred for the hero surging as she narrows her eyes.

"Do you not like it?" She seethes, standing up.

"No, it's not tha-" Izuku tries to resolve the situation.

"Guess I'm just a goddamn failure then. Izuku I'm trying. I'M f*ckING TRYING!" She screams at him, and after a bit of effort, she gets tears.

Ah, there it is.

Izuku knows his mother. She can’t stand not being the center of attention. Hence why she hates birthdays.

“Am I- Am I not GOOD ENOUGH FOR YOU?!” She blubbers through tears, making her voice whiny and high. Izuku winces at the noise. He knows it’s fake this time. It seems like her tears are never real.

He stays quiet, his father sends him a glare and comforts his mother.

“Hey, Inko, let’s go upstairs it’s late.” He says gently, trying to coax her upstairs as if she’s fragile or a toddler.

Where was this gentleness when he was a crying child? An actual child. Not a grown up wailing on the ground because their teenage boy didn’t seem like he liked his All Might poster.

“no, No, nO, NO!” She wails, Izuku thinks that ah, this is what a temper tantrum looks like.

“I DID IT ALL WRONG I'M A BAD MOTHER IZUKU HATES ME I’VE RUINED IT! TELL ME IZUKU! TELL ME WHAT I'M DOING WRONG BECAUSE I'M TRYING MY GODDAMN HARDEST FOR YOU AND YOU’RE NOT EVEN GRATEFUL.” She screams, tears still rolling down her face, but she has to blink hard to even produce them. What a show this is.

“No, you’re not a bad mom! I’m sorry I was ungrateful.” Izuku tries his best to look sincere. He’s not ungrateful. There’s nothing to be grateful for. One might say, the roof over your head. But Izuku knows they’re not paying for it, his great-grandmother is. And the only reason she is, is because Izuku exists.

“ARE YOU MAD AT ME IZUKU I’M SO SORRY PLEASE DON’T BE MAD AT ME.” Her face is an exaggerated frown and Izuku can’t help but think she looks like a clown pretending to be sad so little kids can laugh. She’s even whimpering like a f*cking dog, sprawled out on the floor as if she’s fallen and can’t get up. Izuku can’t stop comparing her to things. This time it’s a fish flopping around.

“I’m not mad mommy.” He is. He can’t believe that he still has to call her that. He can’t believe she can’t go one f*cking day without it all being about her.

“YOU KNOW IT’S MY BIRTHDAY TOO!” She screams and…. What?

Izuku wants more than anything in the world to scream WHAT THE ACTUAL f*ck as her but he can’t. He f*cking hates how he’s not allowed to be angry. Not allowed to be upset.

“I GAVE BIRTH TO YOU TODAY” She had a C-section, it’s major surgery and she did have to carry him for nine months but that was her choice. Izuku didn’t choose to be born.

“Thank you?” Izuku doesn’t know what to say to that.

She collapses on the ground again, her body wracking violently with the force of her sobs.

Izuku wants to leave and never come back.

So he goes to the beach. He walks out the door and to the beach near his house. It’s covered in trash but anywhere is better than that house.

He makes sure no one is around before he screams.

“I'M SO f*ckING DONE I CAN’T DO IT ANYMORE I HATE YOU I HATE YOU I HATE YOU I-” Izuku can’t do it. And he hates that. The way they’ve manipulated him into this sick relationship where he feels guilty saying he hates them.

He’s exhausted, mentally and physically. Maybe he’ll sleep on the sidewalk. It’s warm outside anyways and there’s no school for the weekend.

Izuku stares back at the horizon and this time he doesn’t scream, but he declares loudly in an unwavering voice.

“I’m so goddamn tired of being pleasant all the time.”

There’s a lot behind that sentence. He’d be wimpy with bakugou, happy and stupid and sweet around his mother, silent with his father, and emotionless with everyone else. He just wants to be himself. He wants to be Izuku.

But it’s been so long that Izuku isn’t quite sure what that means.

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Izuku estimates by the colour of the sky that it’s around 4:30 in the morning when he wakes up.

The beach is still covered in trash like always, the ocean is a murky blue, the clouds are grey, he’s sleeping on a sidewalk. Everything is completely normal.

He’s a bit dazed. What would have woken him up? The thirteen year old blinks sleep out of his eyes and scans his surroundings drowsily.

There’s a lump of black sitting far away from him and he spots them out of the corner of his eye.

An adult.

Izuku stands up on guard immediately, making sure it’s not one of his mother’s friends because he really can’t deal with that right now and-

There’s a hand on his shoulder.

Izuku flinches hard. He jumps up slightly, a shiver runs through his body, and he grabs the hand, twists it, and flings the attached body onto the pavement far away from him.

He’s panting and panicking. Someone found him. Oh no, what did he do? Are they going to report him? He was just scared. They surprised him.

Oh god, it’s all his fault. He should’ve checked his surroundings more.

The greenette is standing in the same spot, wavering slightly, trying his best to get ready to run but failing miserably.

He’s hyperventilating and he’s going to die. If the adult he just hurt doesn’t do it then Izuku’s mother surely will.

A voice calls him from far away. They didn’t touch him (a wise choice really) in attempts to comfort the boy. They simply spoke to him. Maybe they’re coaxing him. Izuku can’t tell.

“That’s right, Midoriya. Match my breaths, in and out, in and out. Good job. Remember, panic attacks always end. It will be over soon. Keep breathing okay? Think of a happy place or memory for me.” Izuku opens his eyes and sees the black lump again, but they’re far away.

They’ve put a distance of three feet between him and Izuku.

“You okay now Midoriya?” Izuku jumps as the voice says his name. How do they know his name? Are they stalking him? What if they kidnap him? Is he going to die?

“You know, for such a smart kid you really do have irrational thoughts.” And the voice is that of an adult. Had he said his thoughts aloud?

He schools his expression, putting back on the mask of indifference. Regardless of the events that have just occurred, this is an adult. And Izuku knows better than to trust an adult.

“I’m sorry for bothering you. Thank you very much.” Izuku bows slightly to the blob.

“Don’t apologise to me, apologise to him.” The blob probably points to the other blob but Izuku can’t tell.

Izuku has to look all around him until he sees another blob. It’s yellow and black this time.

God, he really shouldn’t have left without his glasses or even a change of contacts.

He squints at the yellow black blob and hears a groan of pain.

“You good, Mic?” The blob closer to him calls and Izuku realises who these people are.

“Aizawa, Hizashi. What are you two doing here?” Izuku wants to go over and stutter and apologise like a good citizen. But right now he has no filter, no desire to be pleasant or nice. He is in self protect mode. It’s the world against him.

“You know this kid?” The yellow black blob now known as Hizashi, or Present Mic, yells, and Izuku wishes he had a Tylenol on him with the raging headache clouding his mind.

“Yeah, he’s Nedzu’s personal student. Beat him at chess like fifty times at least too.” Aizawa drawls back.

“Damn.” Hizashi replies, sounding very impressed.

“Why are you two even here? Your patrols aren’t at the same time to my knowledge.” Izuku asks, wanting to get answers and not caring how.

“How does he know our patro-, oh Nedzu’s student. I understand.” Hizashi sounds a bit confused.

“My night patrol overlapped with his morning patrol and when I was about to clock out, Hizashi found you sleeping on the sidewalk.” Aizawa states and Izuku nods. That makes sense.

“Ah, I see. Well, I’ll be going now.” Izuku tries to leave, but wobbles and nearly steps off the edge of the sidewalk into a pile of trash if not for Aizawa grabbing his arm.

“No you won’t, you’re obviously not well and sleeping on the sidewalk? What’s that about? Is this why you didn’t want me to bring you home?” Aizawa starts, he notes how Izuku tenses and looks away angrily at the word “home”, “Why the hell are you glaring at me what did I do to-”

The erasure hero stops. Izuku co*cks his head to the side as if he doesn’t know he’s squinting his eyes, making it look like he’s glaring at both heroes.

“Hizashi, my shift’s over so I’m gonna deal with him okay?” Aizawa calls out to the loud hero who nods his head, dumbfounded.

“What the hell do you mean ‘deal with me’ I’m not a chil-” Izuku stops when the black haired man wraps his capture weapon around his mouth.

“It’s unsafe for a person with a prescription below -3 to be walking the streets without their prescription glasses or contacts on.” He says, simply needing to control the boy who confuses him and worries him at the same time.

“Let go of me.” Izuku’s voice sounds muffled.

“Only if you promise to let me he-”

“I SAID LET GO OF ME” Izuku screams and Aizawa thinks his capture weapon might just tear.

He puts his goggles on, feeling threatened by the small teenager. The underground hero activates his quirk, erasing Izuku’s and-

The child is unaffected. He doesn’t stare dumbfounded at Aizawa, or lash out in anger, or give up, or freeze, or freak out. No, he keeps struggling against the capture weapon.

Aizawa is confused to say the least. Maybe he’s got a mutant quirk, like a bigger brain or something.

But Izuku is still struggling as the capture weapon wraps tightly around his wrists, rendering him immobile.
“Let go.” Izuku hates how weak his voice sounds right now but he needs Aizawa to let him go.

The flashbacks are subtle. They jump on him when he leasts expects it and break his heart all over again, they make sure to remind him just how weak he really is.

Inko is gripping his wrist hard and he feels like he’s frozen. The dread making him immobile. Her nails are making him bleed and he’s crying because it hurts so bad and the wounds from last time are still raw.

And then it changes. Izuku’s in the car, front seat because if he tries to use any other she accuses him of hating her. But the front seat is the worst to get yelled at in. She’s screaming right in his ear. His arms are covered in bandages and she’s angry because he’s overreacting. It was an accident, a hangnail.

It changes again, Katsuki has his wrists pinned to the wall and he’s holding a hand to Izuku’s chest and the telltale crackling noises of his quirk reach the freckled boy’s ears. It’s coming again. And oh, it burns, it hurts, and-

Then it changes because Izuku remembers Hisashi calling him over when he was a toddler. How his gentle father who didn’t deserve to get yelled at in Izuku’s three year old opinion made him hold out his arm, before putting out the cigarette on Izuku’s then unmarked skin. He didn’t do it again. Inko yelled at him, saying that he hurt her baby.

Everything shifts and his favourite teacher told him to stay late after school and Izuku had jumped up and down in excitement because this was his chance to ask questions about his homework and what he was confused on! But, the man had grabbed his wrists and covered his mouth. He’d been so confused, what was happening? The man had slowly reached down and pu-

Aizawa stares in horror as the boy goes slack in the hold of the capture weapon. sh*t, how could he be so dumb as to restrict the boy when he barely even trusts him. The hero untangles Midoriya from the weapon and looks at him.

It takes five minutes for Aizawa to process what he’s seeing.

He sets Midoriya down on the ground and shakes him slightly. The boy is completely gone, looks like he dissociated. What kind of hero is he?

Izuku’s guarded eyes are vacant and wide as he sits there, staring at nothing, hearing nothing, doing nothing.

Aizawa sits in front of the boy, and holds him, trying to maybe comfort him on a subconscious level.

There’s a wet spot on his shoulder and Aizawa nearly passes out from shock because, Midoriya is crying.

His face is empty and he looks as though his whole body is numb, but tears surge out of his eyes. They taunt Aizawa.

He can almost hear them saying, ‘aren’t you gonna do something mr pro hero?’

The tears fall onto the pavement,

Aizawa is panicking now. He’s horrified when he finds that the moment he touches the boy, he flinches and the tears stop.

Something feels off. The black haired man looks at Midoriya’s face. Had he just imagined the tears?

Like he always does when anything involves Midoriya, Aizawa finds himself unsure of what to do. He tries to comfort him, snap him out of it maybe, do what he did with the panic attack.

But it just doesn’t feel right.

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“-ya!....Mid…..hear….. if…….MIDORIYA!” Izuku blinks twice. Where is he?

Izuku looks around. He’s sitting on the sidewalk he slept on, only Aizawa is there. Aizawa is right in front of him, and he’s holding him?

“God, I was so worried. I’ll never do that again. I should’ve known better.” Aizawa sounds relieved and Izuku can’t help but wonder why.

“What…you doin’?” Izuku asks, still slightly out of it.

“I’m hugging you.” Aizawa says, sounding a bit confused.

“...H-hug?” Izuku rubs his eyes, completely oblivious.

They’re both silent after that question. Izuku is genuinely curious as to what a hug is, and Aizawa is appalled the boy has no idea at all.

“You poor child,” Aizawa pulls him in tighter, but not too tight, giving the option of breaking the embrace to Midoriya, “I’m so sorry. You’re safe now, you’re okay.”

Izuku doesn’t know what to do with his hands. The typically expressionless teacher is being so ooey gooey with him. But when the ‘hug’ as Aizawa calls it, grows a bit tighter, he finds that it’s nice. It doesn’t make him scared or give him flashbacks. It feels safe and warm and it feels rig- no, nO, NO! This is an adult Izuku. You've been tricked by nice gestures and false security before. On top of that, he already hurt you and trapped you. Don't make the same mistake you did five years ago.

A few seconds later Aizawa seems to realise what he’s doing and stands up, helping the other do the same. He wants to ask what Midoriya wants but it seems like the kid has never been given choices in his life and doesn’t know how to react.

They walk in silence and Izuku is annoyed because he doesn’t know how to react after that whole fiasco. What even was that? It was weird.

He eyes Aizawa warily. He doesn't seem like the type to- Izuku don't let your guard down. You know better than to trust an adult. Right?

“Where are we going?” Izuku looks up at the underground hero who has his face buried in his capture weapon.

“We’re going to UA. I need to have a talk with Nedzu. And you do too.” Aizawa looks down at the boy, feeling a small scrap of compassion and protectiveness towards the little green problem child.

“I’ve already talked with Nedzu. I’m fine.” The mentioned green haired boy protests.

“Well then how do you explain that whole situation that just happened?” Aizawa raises an eyebrow.

“You can’t prove it happened.” Izuku feels a stab of guilt as Aizawa looks hurt when he say it.

“I guess that’s true.”

There’s silence after that. Neither of them attempt to start another conversation.

That is until Yamada Hizashi shows up.

“Hey! Little listener, you feeling better?” He nearly shouts at Izuku.

“Yeah, sorry for attacking you earlier.” The freckled boy scratches his neck awkwardly. This man is a threat. An easily overwhelmed threat for sure, but still a threat

“It’s no big deal! Where are you both headed?” He laughs.

“We’re going to UA so we can see Nedzu.” Aizawa sounds tired. Izuku feels guilty again.

“Ah, well duty calls little listener! See you soon!” Hizashi rushes off to continue his patrol and Aizawa sighs.

He’s just about to strike up a conversation when he hears a rumbling coming from behind him.

sh*t.

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Izuku can’t breathe. He can’t breathe, he can’t breathe. Help help help help someone help me please get me out I’m going to die! Can anyone hear me?

Does anyone care?

He tries to suppress the flashbacks but he can’t, it’s a battle he’ll never win it seems.

Izuku is eight years old. He's having some issues with the history project that's due tomorrow. He doesn't know if he'll finish it. But he really really wants to. The elementary school student doesn't want to disappoint his favourite teacher. Maybe he'll try to talk to him. The history teacher has never been mean to him before! He always compliments Izuku's clothes and tells him he's small and cute. And his history teacher is always right! He teaches Izuku other stuff too, like how to make his mother love him again. He makes sure Izuku trusts him and even though it takes Izuku a long time, he eventually does.

Izuku wishes more than anything that he could turn back time and warn his younger self to run far far away.

They're so close that he calls Izuku by his first name. But Izuku didn't tell him to. He just did it and Izuku doesn't object because 'Sir' is always right!

He even lets Izuku call him 'Sir' as a fun little nickname! Isn't that just amazing?

Little Izuku is jumping with glee as 'Sir' tells him to stay behind. Maybe the teachers are finally going to help him! Maybe 'Sir' will teach him how to manage his time properly too!

"Izuku." A deep voice calls for him and he goes slightly slack on reflex but he has no idea why. (years later Izuku will find out he was being groomed)

"Y-yes 'Sir'?" Izuku wants more than anything to ask him about the project but he's been told not to speak unless spoken to.

"I'm going to teach you something new today." If only Izuku had seen the grin decorating the man's face as someone ready to attack rather than a teacher excited to teach Izuku about time management.

"Really?" Izuku's voice is awed. He'd never imagined a teacher would be so willing to help him.

"Stand against the wall. Take off your shoes." Izuku complies immediately, just as he'd been taught. He doesn't know why he isn't allowed to wear shoes when they're just going to be talking about time management.

In one swift move Izuku is pinned against the wall, wrists held tight. He tries to cry out or yell for help but there's a hand covering his mouth. The eight year old starts to cry. He's so confused. What's going on?

"Kneel."

"Midoriya!" A cry of hope and desperation for the boy to reply, for him to be okay.

Aizawa watches in horror as the sludge monster grabs Midoriya and tries to take over his body. He’d noticed the boy was dragging his feet, he’d seen faint bags under his eyes (but that was more than anyone ever saw so to Aizawa it’s a big deal), he’d seen the way his arms hung limply by his side.

He didn’t know that Izuku had beaten this villain before, that he’d gotten up without a scratch and walked away.

All Aizawa knows is that this villain has Izuku. And no matter what it takes, Aizawa is going to get Izuku out of there.

He runs at the villain and pulls some of it’s sludge from it’s form before throwing it far away from here. The hero sees a glimpse of Izuku. He’s struggling and although he can’t see a single emotion on the boy, he knows he’s scared.

Aizawa jumps back as the villain slashes at him. His phone’s not in his pocket, it’s shattered on the pavement and he can’t even call for help.
The boy is turning red, he needs oxygen. Aizawa grits his teeth and glares at the villain. He’s failed Izuku enough times today. Right now, he needs to succeed.

Izuku feels like he’s floating. His body held up by the disgusting sludge. It slides down his throat and he gags but it’s no use. He feels like he’s drowning. It’s slow and weightless but his lungs burn and it hurts so horribly.

He’s beat this villain before. What’s different this time around?

He wants to close his eyes, he wants to give up. He remembers it all and it hurts. Surely there was a reason he forgot it, blocked it out. But Izuku can’t help the way his brain reacts to the situation.

Izuku is trying his best to move around and struggle but he’s completely surrounded. It’s not warm and comforting and safe like Aizawa, it’s cold and scary, and it hurts. Just like she does.

Izuku is five years old. He’s hiding again, this time he’s sure she won't find him. Sure, maybe she caught him hiding among his clothes in the closet, found him lumped up underneath the blankets on his mattress, caught him huddled underneath his bed, found him underneath the laundry baskets, but this time it’s different. The small boy is curled up into the tightest little ball he can manage and stuffed into a small chest that he keeps his dress shirts in. There’s a tiny crack where air can come in but it’s not enough. Izuku doesn’t know this yet.

She’s yelling up the stairs, stomping through the hall, tearing through the room and trying to make him think that she’s seen him. She grows quiet, standing in the middle of the room.

She’s waiting.

“Izuku, I’m going to count to three.”

If he gets out now then she’ll yell and scream and hurt him.

“One,”

If he doesn’t get out now she might not find him and he’ll be safe for today.

“Two,”

If she doesn’t find him today it’ll be one hundred times worse tomorrow.

“Three.”

He’s too late.

She sits in the middle of the room, her rage brewing as she yells and yells, telling him there will be consequences and he should be ashamed, he’s just worthless.

It starts getting hard to breathe. The chest is small and he can barely fit into it. The air is hot and hard to breathe. He’s running out of oxygen, his body cramps from being folded up so long.

He needs to get out.

It feels like hours that she sits there as he tries to keep his breathing even and quiet enough that she won’t hear it.

Is it worth it?

Wouldn’t it just be better to di-

“Midoriya!” Aizawa yells desperately as he sees the boy go limp and stop fighting.

“You’ll never win against me!” The villain taunts.

Izuku can’t breathe but it’s not the same as when he was hiding from his mother. This time if he gets out he won’t die. Inko’s not here right now.

But how can he be sure?

The thirteen year old reaches into the back pocket of his jeans and pulls out a small but sharp knife that he always has on him for emergencies and slashes blindly around him. It doesn’t work. Through the haze of suffocation Izuku vaguely remembers…

Aizawa freezes. There’s a knife stabbing the sludge villain’s eyes out from it’s sockets.

The villain screeches in pain and tries to continue blindly attacking Aizawa.

EraserHead goes into action, grabbing the villain with his capture weapon and scattering it all around the sidewalk.

Izuku stumbles out of the sludge and throws up for ten minutes before stopping. Aizawa is patting his back encouragingly.

“You did a good job problem child.” Aizawa grins softly, a feeling of pride bubbles up in his chest but he ignores it.

“Hah..” Izuku hacks up a piece of sludge and grins up widely at the hero, he doesn't remember not to trust Aizawa right now. His eyes are wide as if hoping Aizawa will say something.

“You’ve got potential, Midoriya. You just proved it right there too.” Aizawa states, the kid grins half heartedly but looks grim.

Aizawa thinks back to what Nedzu told him. This kid can do better than General Education.

“Midoriya do you want to be a hero?” The underground hero lifts Midoriya’s chin and makes him meet his eyes.

“I know I can’t be a hero. I’m not sure I even like heroes.” Midoriya admits, feeling ashamed.

“I didn’t ask that. Do you want to be a hero, Midoriya?” Aizawa’s eyes are burning from keeping contact with the freckled boy but he refuses to look away or blink.

“Yeah. I really do.” The boy’s green eyes are shining and Aizawa knows exactly what he has to say.

“Midoriya, you can be a hero.” Aizawa is standing, looking down on Izuku as the thirteen year old cries because that’s all he’s ever wanted to hear.

“And you’re going to become one. Apply to the heroics course next year and accept the fact that I will be sending in a recommendation for you.” Aizawa promises. He’s not sure why he did that. He’s never recommended someone before and he doesn’t make promises often. There was just something about the kid that…. Oh forget it.

“I’m going to become the greatest hero!” Izuku makes a promise back to Aizawa. There’s no way he’ll ever let him down.

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Midoriya is keenly aware of the fact that the beach near his house is being cleaned, slowly but surely.

Regardless of what people believe, Izuku doesn’t get yelled at every night. It’s just most of the time, on average maybe four times a week. The other nights it’s stiff conversation and the hope that nobody says the wrong thing or else they’ll suffer the consequences.

He gets back to his house and his mother hugs him. Izuku’s stomach turns. He says he’s tired and she waves him away, not wanting to fuss over him because she’s too busy sending emails to her friends.

It’s 1:00 in the morning and Izuku can’t sleep. It’s not as if he’s not tired, he just can’t go all the way and lose consciousness. It’s too hot, the bed’s itchy and he can’t have anything touching his neck or else he feels like he’s choking. That ‘close your eyes and don't move for fifteen minutes’ is bullsh*t.

Aizawa. Yeah, that's a problem. The promise about heroes was most likely made out of guilt, or maybe even to lure Izuku in. He'd smiled and agreed in his post adrenaline-after-almost-dying haze but now he's not sure.

It's the hero course, surely nobody would-

Izuku shakes his head. He's just being paranoid. Aizawa is a good person.

Right?

The boy tosses and turns in an attempt to escape from his thoughts in the form of sleep. Eventually something works out and he probably looks dumb but he hugs his pillow and nuzzles into the smooth fabric. His eyes droop like they always do when he’s tired, but unlike the usual, Izuku manages to sleep for a few peaceful hours.

At 4:00 in the morning Izuku rubs his eyes and stares at the ceiling, happily well rested (for Izuku at least). The boy sits in his bed and writes up a training plan to get into UA’s hero course using a large book as his table.

It’s a strict schedule but he knows he can do it. His exercise schedule before this was nothing to laugh at either. The entrance exam is in 8 months, he’s got plenty of time to further train his already impressive fighting skills and study for the written portion as well.

At 4:30 in the morning Izuku is changed into casual running clothes and his signature red sneakers. He’ll do a five mile run, to get his joints limber. It’s his usual distance, but he’s going to try and go farther every day in a shorter amount of time, so he should start out slow at least.

He jogs down to the sandy beach and decides to run on it. It looks empty enough. He’s on mile four and is a mile away from where he started when he hears a crash.

Not wanting to stop, Izuku runs past the noise and back until he’s reached his distance. He’s got a light sheen of sweat covering his body but the ocean brings ripples of cool wind that cools him down as it ruffles his hair in goodbye.

Another crash sounds from deep within the piles of trash and Izuku wonders if it’s the person who’s been cleaning the beach.

It’s none of his business but the little genius has always been too curious for his own good.

Light danced across the grains of sand, giving them a fiery glow and causing the water to shine with a blinding brightness.

Izuku abandons the beauty of the beach and steps into the maze of trash.

After all, what could go wrong?

Chapter 4

Chapter Text

Izuku doesn’t even blink when a chunk of trash that probably weighs nearly three tons is thrown at him. He simply ducks out of the way and continues walking.

However when he feels a presence behind his back and a hand on his shoulder he jumps and winces and grabs the hand, to throw the person over his shoulder, but it passes through.

“Woahhhh there. Who are you?” A boy with blonde hair, blue eyes, and a simple face asks him.

“I was about to ask you the same thing.” Izuku breathes out, still a bit wound up from the earlier phenomenon.

“I asked first.” The boy points out and Izuku glares at him.

“I don’t see how it’s vital that you know my name.” Izuku is a bit put off at the boy’s behavior.

“Why are you here?” He questions.

“Why are youhere?” Izuku counters.

The boy groans frustratedly. Izuku prides himself in the fact that he is utterly frustrating to talk to when he wants to be. Besides, he knows who this boy is. He’s one of the big three of UA.

“I’m Toogata Mirio and I’m here to clean this beach because Sir told me I would need to and Sir is never wrong.” He points to himself cheerfully with his thumb.

Izuku freezes. Is he this weak? Are words enough to trigger him? How can he be a hero if he’s shivering at the very thought of Him?

But something stops Izuku. He can save this boy, he can stop the abuse and be there for him. He can be the person who was never there for Izuku.

“Hi, I’m Midoriya Izuku. I’m here to train for the UA entrance ex-” Izuku wants to slowly and carefully ask about the “Sir” Toogata had mentioned but he interrupts before he can continue.

“Oh! You’re applying to the hero course huh? I’m actually going into the third year hero course.” He puffs his chest and Izuku realises that it’s common courtesy to react.

“Wow, really?” Izuku says with sparkles in his eyes. He internally sighs, the conversation turning into complementary small talk that will take lots of fake reactions as to not wound anyone’s ego.

“Yep! If you need any pointers you can ask me!” Toogata says proudly and Izuku is getting the vibe that he’s going to ask Izuku to call him -senpai soon.

“Okay, cool, thanks! Who is this “Sir” you mentioned?” Izuku gives his brain a high five. That was subtle.

Toogata looks confused because ‘what the f*ck does that have to do with the entrance exam’ but quickly recovers.

“Oh! I’m interning under him. Sir Nighteye. You know him?” And yes, of course Izuku knows him. All Might’s sidekick. He could slap himself because not only was he stupid enough to assume Toogata was in danger. He now looks like a f*cking stalker.

“Ohh, yeah! Haha, I was just wondering if he was one of your teachers or something! Nothing weird I promise!” Smooth Izuku, smooth.

“Oh… cool. Well! I hafta continue cleaning this beach so…” He prompts Izuku to leave but as always, Izuku ignores it.

“C-can I help?” Izuku uses move Shy Boi™! And looks down cutely. It’s very effective!

Toogata is going to scream because this boy’s demeanor is constantly changing and it’s confusing. But if he was a threat then surely Sir would’ve mentioned it, right?

“Uhm yeah! Sure! Help yourself!” He motions to the trash around him.

“Thank you senpai!” Izuku laughs cheerfully, going to pick up some trash.

Izuku winces and throws up internally.

Toogata is beet red and in his protective upperclassman mode.

“A-anytime!” He replies coughing, still pink faced.

He doesn’t even realise the boy hasn’t told him his name.

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The rising third year at least has the humility to be ashamed that his pile of trash is significantly smaller than Izuku’s.

Well, even that is a bit of an understatement.

Izuku’s pile towers over Toogata’s and the smaller boy doesn’t even look tired.

“This was fun, but I really have to go!” Izuku waves and Toogata turns around after saying goodbye, completely baffled by the odd boy he’s just met.

Izuku is rounding the corner and suddenly he’s cold.

The freckled genius greets the darkness surrounding him with a,

“Hello Kurogiri, how are you today?”

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The green haired boy has been meeting a man named Shigaraki Tomura at a cafe for about a month now.

Izuku had approached him with a bandaid and some hand lotion and their relationship had developed from there.

Tomura tells Izuku he’s a villain.

Izuku can’t find it in himself to really care all that much.

“Hey kid.” Tomura greets him with his hands threaded together as if he’s in prayer, but Izuku knows it’s to keep him from disintegrating anything or scratching his neck.

“Hi Tomura!” Izuku greets back sitting across from the blue haired man who is feeling awfully exposed and alone without his hands right now.

Like most other people, it took Tomura a while to figure out Izuku’s name, but they’re here now and Tomura knows now.

Izuku is a goddamn ray of sunshine.

He may try to act all tough and solemn. Like he’s only a ball of sadness because his parents abuse him and he’s got trauma and he’s quirkless, but no.

Despite the fact that it may not be healthy, Izuku has it all bottled up. Sometimes it leaks and he has flashbacks but he doesn’t tell anyone anything.

No, Izuku, uses it to fuel his kindness.

Tomura watches fondly as Izuku carefully tapes the villain’s pinky and pointer finger so that he won’t accidentally disintegrate anything. God, why does he trust him so much?

It’s because Shigaraki Tomura is nothing but a glorified kid. He’s a teenager. Izuku could never trust an adult the way he does Tomura.

So unlike Nedzu, unlike Aizawa, Tomura asks.

And unlike Nedzu, unlike Aizawa, Tomura gets an answer.

The freckled boy doesn’t say everything, because no way. He’ll never say everything.

Tomura grinds his teeth and wants to scratch his neck but he promised Izuku he wouldn’t.

Tanji Washijo. A history teacher at Masegaki Primary School.

A week later the old man is found castrated, with his head missing. The police say it was a disintegration quirk.

Huh.

What a coincidence.

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Izuku is sitting on a rickety wooden chair, in a bar that’s warm and dark and colourful.

A man with hands on his face and long blue hair is sitting across from him and Izuku thinks he looks like a child. A child who never got to live through a childhood. A child like Izuku.

He’s drugged to the edge of consciousness and his words shine through unfiltered and true.

The child is staring back at him and Izuku reaches into his back pocket, not noticing they haven’t bothered to restrain him.

Izuku smiles kindly and hands a small bottle of lotion and a bandaid to the child that has just kidnapped him.

“You’re bleeding.” Izuku points to the blue haired child’s dry, cracked, and- as Izuku has just pointed out- bleeding neck.

Tomura Shigaraki is speechless once again as he looks at the green haired boy. He feels something that he hasn’t felt since Sensei saved him.

He doesn’t know what to call it yet.

But the “villain” just stares at Izuku and feels the overwhelming urge to protect and to bond with the boy.

To pamper and love the little brother he’s never had.

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It’s a few hours later that Izuku is sitting at the bar, chatting animatedly with Kurogiri who is politely maintaining the flow of the conversation.

Izuku likes it there. He feels a newfound resentment for heroes who only want to defeat villains, instead of wanting to save civilians.

The man Izuku knows to be Dabi walks in and Izuku narrows his eyes before jumping off the barstool and walking towards the scarred man with purpose.

“Hello, I’m Izuku Midoriya.” He holds his hand out for him to take. He’s acting out of character, by giving Touya his name outright.

“I think I would know that, considering I kidnapped you. Dabi.” The man with the flame quirk replies politely.

“Ah yes, thanks for that by the way Todoroki.” Izuku says nochalantly.

“THAT’S YOUR NAME?!” Tomura screams in an accusatory tone, choosing to prioritise this information over the possibility of Todoroki Touya being a spy for Endeavor.

Dabi groans and glares at Izuku.

Meeting Toga Himiko goes similar to his meeting with Tomura.

She walks in and everyone backs up like she’s a ticking time bomb.

The girl sits on a bar stool and crosses her legs in regards to her short schoolgirl skirt and Izuku knows.

He sees her personality some would call “borderline psychotic” and knows that something drove her to this craziness.

It seems most villains are familiar with the idea of child abuse.

In just one day Izuku has heard four villains’ tragic backstories but they don’t know his.

Toga’s need for love stems from parents who stopped loving her after she found out about her quirk after innocently kissing a papercut on her father’s pinky finger. She’d killed them and the guilt made her go insane. She didn’t know how to go back and nobody helped her or took her side. With a quirk like that nobody wanted her.

Twice has always been split in two. He’s half japanese, half white and has always had difficulties with his identity. But his parents were anything but accepting when he came out to them as bisexual. It’s hard enough to not understand your own sexuality. Does he like boys or girls? He needs to choose. It’s not like he can like both. Right? And apparently sending him to a conversion camp was his parents' solution. Clearly it didn’t work out for them. Twice came back traumatised, hating himself, his parents, hating everything. Who even is he? The “villain” still isn’t quite sure.

Dabi is like Izuku. Endeavor had done- well, what hadn’t Endeavor done? Dabi is like Izuku. Except Izuku didn’t have siblings to protect, and didn’t have siblings to protect him.

Tomura… Tomura is the brother Izuku never had. He and Izuku play games and Tomura tells him how no heroes saved him. He talks about his hate for All Might. Izuku relates and understands because he went through the Exact. Same. Thing.

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“What do you want, Izuku?” A deep voice calls out and Izuku, drugged out of his mind, answers with the truth.

Tomura holds his breath because the boy so much like him is answering a question that he himself doesn’t know the answer to. He’s waiting for the answer and his pupils dilate. His lungs feel empty and claw for air because-

“Home.” Izuku breathes out, his voice dreamy and longing and warm.

Tomura is terrified. Because he had not been expecting that.

Izuku is all Tomura was and is and somehow he’s more than that.

“Sensei. Send him back. I don’t want him anymore.” Tomura walks out and Izuku is sad because did he do something wrong?

The green haired boy finds himself in front of that house that is anything but a home.

A familiar cold hand wraps around his wrist and he mourns.

What is he mourning exactly?

Izuku can’t quite remember anymore.

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Izuku doesn’t tell anyone that he was kidnapped by villains. He can’t see the point.

But why? Maybe he should tell someone, maybe Nedzu?

No, who knows what he’d do.

So Izuku just picks up trash with Toogata, who asks where he’s been, trains, and sleeps at his house where neither of his parents have noticed he’s been gone.

It doesn’t take very long for Izuku to miss the league. He’s still not sure why they took him.

Kurogiri had told him Tomura’s birthday was soon. Maybe Izuku should get him a present?

The freckled genius eventually decides to get Tomura a gift card to the cafe they frequent together and Zelda tape for his fingers.

Izuku’s walk to their cafe is an eventful one per usual.

He drops five hundred yen into a street performer’s guitar case, gives a homeless woman his sandwich that he didn’t eat for lunch and a two thousand yen note, feeds the stray cats that hang out in the alley behind a motel, and plays a quick game of tag with the children who live on the streets.

If Izuku wants to be difficult to deal with and cryptic, he can be, but he’s got morals. He’ll help the people forgotten by heroes who want the fame and popularity. He’s a good person with motivation. That’s why he wanted to be a hero. That’s why he promised Aizawa he would be.

But does Izuku truly want to be like All Might anymore?

Is being a hero really the right thing to do?

He pushes the door to the cafe open with a slight jingle and pushes the thoughts out of his head.

The cashier is nice and clueless and slow but Izuku doesn’t mind. He tells him to take his time because he knows that it’s hard work being a cashier in a cafe and people are mean.

The college student smiles at him when he pays and thanks him when Izuku drops a one thousand yen note into the tip jar because yes, you do need to tip your barista. Similar to the way you need to tip your waiter.

Izuku leaves with a brown paper bag containing a chocolate chip cookie, a five thousand yen gift card to the cafe, and an iced mocha.

He sits on a cracked cement wall of what must’ve been a garden once upon a time.

The children who live on the streets and beg for money on the roads, who never attend class and wear clothes stolen from the donation centers gather around him because they know who he is.

This is a nice boy. He understands. He also does not trust the adults.

This boy who never tells his name but instead tells stories. He does not say whether or not they are true. He does not warn the children if they are sad or happy. Because he knows they can handle it. He knows they are strong.

But Izuku knows that he always wanted what Kacchan had told him, all those years ago, was called storytime.

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It’s a normal day for Izuku. Always normal. Today his mom yells at him. It’s not too bad. He cries for a few hours but nobody notices. Nobody ever does.

But something is a bit different today, after all.

Izuku narrows his eyes.

Someone’s in his spot.

A boy, slim and tall, with heterochromia and a nasty scar, red and white hair, and… It’s overkill to describe him further. You know who he is. Izuku knows who he is. Ladies and gentlemen, it’ssssssss Todoroki Shouto!

And he’s in Izuku’s spot.

Technically it’s Tomura’s and his spot but that’s not the point right now.

Izuku wrinkles his nose in disgust at the thought of sitting somewhere else but he also knows the universal fact that tall people are assholes and Todoroki Shouto is tall.

Maybe not as tall as his dad, but that’s what makes Endeavor fifty times the asshole Shouto is.

Izuku is a whopping 5’2, and he thinks if he continues training he might grow two inches.

Todoroki, the bastard, is 5’9, and growing steadily. f*cking greedy ass bitch.

Honestly the green haired boy has nothing against Todoroki Shouto, it’s just that he’s sitting in his spot.

Izuku orders an iced mocha.

Todoroki Shouto is still sitting in his spot.

Izuku stands and stares at Todoroki Shouto.

Todoroki Shouto is still sitting in his spot.

Tomura arrives and orders a hot chocolate.

Todoroki Shouto is still sitting in his spot.

Izuku and Tomura stand and stare at Todoroki Shouto.

Todoroki Shouto is still sitting in their spot.

Eventually Shouto’s killer, sharp, lightning quick, sensitive, extremely well honed hero senses activate and he notices Izuku and Tomura staring at him with annoyed faces because he needs to leave right now.

Todoroki Shouto flees the cafe and never comes back.

After the boy leaves Tomura pulls out a chair for Izuku who politely takes the seat.

“So, what’d you call me here for?” The greenette asks solemnly. Tomura had called him late last night saying he had something important to tell him and it couldn’t wait.

The villain leans forward.

“If All Might is the final boss you’re a lovable fluffy bunny that is actually a demon but let’s not get into that.” Tomura states.

Izuku blinks once, twice.

“Tomura, no offense but what the f*ck.”

“It’s vital information! I couldn’t just not tell you.” Tomura looks repulsed at the very idea.

“I’m only not punching you right now because it’s your birthday.” Izuku grits out.

“It’s my- oh. I don’t care about birthdays honestly, how’d you kno- that’s a dumb question please ignore me.” Tomura stumbles over his words.

“Don’t even try it.” Izuku holds up his pointer finger and snaps twice.

A black void swirls around them and suddenly both boys are teleported to the bar where everyone jumps out and screams,
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“SURPRISE!!!” Tomura just stands there because he doesn’t know how to process it.

Eventually he does and it’s through painful awkwardness.

“Come on, Tomu-chan! You’re not a teenager anymore!” Toga smiles and hugs the taller.

For the first time in many years, Kurogiri thinks he sees the ghost of a smile. A true one, with no malice or murderous intent. He looks happy.

“Ooh, ooh! Open mine first!” Izuku and Toga drag Tomura to the bar where Kurogiri has a Shirley temple with a sparkler in it waiting for him.

The twenty year old looks like a repulsed cat when they show him a hat that says ‘Birthday Boy’ in big white letters.

Izuku thinks that Tomura is going to cry when he excuses himself from the party because he has to get back to the house.

“Thanks.” He looks at his feet, not sure how to receive the presents that were so thoughtful.

Toga had given him a ‘Grow Your Own Daisy’ after she’d seen Tomura try, and fail to pick a few flowers outside of the bar, Dabi had given him a bottle of light blue hair dye because he knew how damaging box dye could be when you’re dying your hair constantly, and Kurogiri gave him a new game called Animal Crossing which looked a bit boring but he wasn’t going to tell Kurogiri that.

“Anytime.” Izuku smiles at the bashful man.

“See you soon!” Toga calls and the fourteen year old sees Dabi give him a curt wave.

If these are the people heroes call ‘villains’ then Izuku isn’t sure he’ll be able to keep his promise to Aizawa.

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Nedzu narrows his eyes at his student.

Something’s off.

It’s not like those other times where Izuku broke down crying and Nedzu had a small breakdown of his own. No, it’s different. Quieter. Angrier. He’s doing a stellar job at hiding it too. Aizawa didn’t even notice. But Nedzu’s smarter, sharper.

They’re playing chess and Nedzu can’t hold back his curiosity anymore.

“Midoriya, is something wrong?” Nedzu carefully takes the young boy’s pawn, making sure he hasn’t compromised himself.

“Something’s always wrong. It’s nothing new.” Izuku swiftly moves his rook without a second thought and Nedzu envies the ability to move his pieces nonchalantly.

“Have you started your application to UA?” Nedzu changes the topic but prods around to see what’s wrong and… Bingo. Izuku halts for half a second before taking Nedzu’s knight. And Nedzu curses inwardly because he should’ve been more careful.

“No. I’m, I’m not sure if- I don’t know wher- Actually I think I-” Izuku trips over his words and Nedzu puts a paw up.

“Is this about the hero course?” Nedzu moves his bishop, silently mourning his fallen knight.

“Yeah.” Izuku says in a defeated voice. He sees through Nedzu’s plan and retreats back to his side of the board.

“Although I can guess what the problem here is, I don’t know the reason, so I’m going to ask. Midoriya, why don’t you want to apply to the UA hero course?” Nedzu puts Izuku in check.

“I’m not sure I like heroes anymore.” Izuku admits, and does the castle move. Nedzu is surprised again at his student’s skills.

“Hm. Well, why don’t you talk to Aizawa about this?” Nedzu suggests, his brow furrowed as he tries to get out of the little trap Midoriya has planned for him.

“Nedzu-san, I-” The freckles genius stammers, putting Nedzu in check.

“It’s okay Izuku. I understand.” Nedzu clicks his tongue at his current predicament because Izuku is about to win yet another game of chess.

“You do?” Izuku asks hopefully as the principal knocks down his queen.

“Ah, yes. I hate humans.” The albino stoat glares down at the chess board as if it personally offended him when Izuku takes his queen in return.

“Why? All of them?” He messes with his unruly green hair and studies the board while waiting for Nedzu to make his move.

“Not all of them, you’re fine, you understand and you’re not completely incompetent and stupid.” Nedzu sneers at the thought of those dumb, inferior humans.

“You hate them because they’re dumb and don’t understand?” Izuku tries to comprehend.

“Izuku, just like you, I have suffered at the hand of people who think they’re superior and tried to test me.” Izuku opens his mouth to ask how he knows, but Nedzu gives him a look and he shuts up. “And I would prefer not to talk about it because although it has been many years and I have gone through a recovery process I still don’t like the memories.” He finishes, trying to keep a straight face despite the fear welling up inside him because he really does resent humans.

“It’s okay. You don’t have to talk about it. You’re getting better. You’re okay now.” The principal of UA realises he has his eyes screwed shut and Izuku is crouching next to his seat. Izuku thinks that he’s being a bit of a hypocrite, not taking his own advice.

“Ah yes,” Nedzu straightens and tries to compose himself.

Izuku looks around uncomfortably. f*ck. He’s never been good at heart to hearts or deep conversations. So the teenager tries to break the tension.

By placing his hand on Nedzu’s head, like he had so long ago when Nedzu had lost that game of chess.

“Let’s get back to our game, Nedzu-Sensei” Izuku purrs teasingly to the white mammal who is sitting completely frozen, but oddly enough, seems to be nudging slightly into the palm of the freckled boy who is now also shocked because yeah, he wouldn’t mind petting Nedzu again because his fur is so so so so so soft, but he hadn’t gotten permission yet and consent is a basic right.

So Izuku withdraws and Nedzu looks dazed like he did last time.

A few seconds later when he snaps out of it, the stoat will deny reacting to the pat on his head and blame it on the fact Izuku used honourifics on him.

The two geniuses return to their game of chess, Nedzu a bit ruffled, and Izuku very amused.

Izuku decides he hates the silence because he’s never experienced comfortable silence. Everytime it was silent in his house it was a sign of foreshadowing, it was tense and scary and Izuku had to smile and laugh and use a light joking cute voice in attempts to raise the mood or provoke her.

“So, I’m thinking of applying to general education.” Midoriya comments offhandedly as the game of chess reaches its end.

“What about the hero course?” Nedzu suggests hopefully, knowing this is still a hard topic for Izuku.

“I-” He hesitates, “I don’t know, maybe. I think I’ll apply to other departments and schools and if I have extra time I’ll apply to the hero course.”

“Okay.” Nedzu is still unsatisfied with that answer but he doesn’t say anything else.

“I don’t think that I’ll win this game.” Izuku comments as he takes the elder’s other knight.

“Neither do I…” Nedzu says, a bit disappointed as he takes the younger’s last pawn.

Eventually Izuku declares it a draw by stalemate.

But there is a question hanging in the air.

What do they do about the deal?

Aizawa walks in to escort Izuku home but stops cold outside the door because he hears something.

“God I hate chess. What a sh*tty game” Is that Midoriya? He sounds so angry and sad. The erasure hero notes.

“Agreed. Perhaps we should play a different game next time.” Aizawa eyes nearly bulge out of his head because is he just imagining it, or does Nedzu sound angry?

“Aizawa come in already, you little creep.” He opens up the door a bit bashfully after being found out by Midoriya who has no right to call him little given the fact that he’s nearly nine inches shorter than him.

The pro hero wants to turn around as soon as he enters because he can’t decide whether to laugh or be scared.

Because Izuku is wearing bunny ears that are dyed the same green as his hair and there's a pompom stuck to his behind that’s the same colour, which can’t be a coincidence, wearing a pout on his face and a glare that is screaming, ‘Laugh and I will dismember you’. He’s also muttering small curses under his breath and it’s scaring him.

Aizawa sees that the stoat is wearing a wig. A red curly wig with a very large hat attached to it. He looks at him for a second, trying his best to ignore the burning of Nedzu’s glare. And oh- He knows what it is. It’s taking every cell of his being to not burst into laughter then and there because oh my god he’s dressed up like the Mad Hatter.

The humour is sucked out of him when he looks around the room and spots a chess board thrown across the room, chess pieces that seem to have been chewed up and a broken window which, judging by the lack of remaining pieces, must’ve assisted in the disappearance of said pieces.

But it sucks the colour from his face when he sees his teaching contract taped to the wall, with copies stacked up on the table between the two angry mammals.

“Aizawa-kun.” Nedzu remarks stiffly, sarcasm threaded into his voice, “How nice of you to join us.”

“Have a seat.” Midoriya robotically gestures to a chair at the end of the table.

He plops down on the seat and he can’t breathe. The air is thick with tension between Nedzu and Midoriya, both aggravated with the other.

“My head hurts from the ears.” The teenage boy dressed up like a bunny whines.

“And my head itches from the wig.” The real life mad hatter snaps back.

“You’re insufferable. Why a bunny?” Izuku groans out.

“And you’re an obnoxious brat. What even am I supposed to be?” Nedzu retorts, Aizawa’s eyes widen because he’s never seen Nedzu this worked up. (Granted, he’s never seen Izuku petting him.)

“I’m sorry what’s going on?” The UA teacher cuts in confusedly.

“We played chess.” They reply in sync, voices void of emotion, eyes that show how dead they are inside, as if that explains everything.

He can’t help it, his mouth is twisted and pursed, he’s holding his breath, biting his tongue trying not to smile.

Their eyes turn to him as if daring the hero to do it.

So he does.

Aizawa lets out a breathy noise that would’ve sounded like a normal breath to a normal person. But no, he’s surrounded by two geniuses and the know.

They know he just laughed.

Nedzu launches at his face. Izuku tackles his legs.

Aizawa turns up at Recovery Girl’s office with a scratched, bleeding face, bruised ankles, and a bite mark on his arm, he doesn’t know which one of them bit him but it f*cking hurts.

Nedzu and Izuku have called a truce and removed the offending accessories when they hear an indignant scream. They both chuckle evilly.

“YOU TOLD RECOVERY GIRL SHE’S NOT ALLOWED TO HEAL ME?!” Aizawa shouts at the two, now peaceful geniuses as they sip their tea.

“Yes indeed.” Nedzu says cheerfully.

“We believe you need to learn from your mistakes.” Izuku continues.

“It’s getting late, Aizawa-kun.” Nedzu remarks.

“Ah yes, I must leave now. Thank you.” The greenette announces, trying to escape.

“Midoriya.” The albino says in a commanding tone. The younger slumps his shoulders.

“Seeya on Wednesday.” Izuku waves at his mentor, grabbing the erasure hero’s wrist and dragging him out the door.

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Per usual, the walk back to Midoriya’s house is insufferably awkward.

Izuku breaks the awkward silence by dropping the bomb on Aizawa.

“I’m not going to apply to UA’s Hero Course.” He says it casually, like it’s a remark about the weather.

Aizawa stops walking completely.

It’s supposed to be a dramatic effect where the other person stops walking and looks at them and they have a heart to heart but Izuku’s not really in the mood.

He’s a bit put off when Izuku keeps walking and doesn’t even look back.

The shorter boy notices that the elder had to jog a bit to catch up to him.

“Why not?” Aizawa asks dejectedly. He thought that the promise meant something to Izuku.

“Why should I? It’s what I want.”

“But you told me you wanted to be a hero.” Aizawa reminds him.

Izuku is the one who stops this time, and like any decent person, Aizawa stops too.

“I lied.” He lies.

“No you didn’t. Midoriya tell me, tell me why you won’t apply to the heroics course.” Aizawa holds the boy’s shoulders and looks him in the eyes.

“Because I hate heroes.” Izuku blurts out.

And Aizawa, was… not really expecting that but it’s still not that much of a surprise.

“Then become the hero you wouldn’t hate.” The words come easily to him as he watches Midoriya think this over.

“I… Don’t know.” The boy tries to comb his finger through the unruly green hair but give up when they get stuck halfway through.

“Just think about it.” Aizawa pleads.

The unnerving gaze of Izuku Midoriya analyses him and he can’t help but shiver because his eyes are so blank, void, and trained to hide every emotion.

“Goodbye Aizawa.” He says after a moment.

There’s a crash about twenty feet behind him and the underground hero looks back towards the noise on reflex but when he turns around,

Izuku is gone.

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“Hey stranger!” Toogata shouts while waving from his pile of trash as Izuku speeds towards him.

“Hi!” He pants out, sweat dripping down his face as he squats down, taking deep breaths.

“Thought you weren’t gonna show up.” The blonde comments offhandedly in a joking tone.

“Hah, sorry I was just doing an extra mile cause the hero course exam’s tomorrow.” Izuku explains, still out of breath.

“Oh, don’t overwork yourself or else you’ll be sore. And get some sleep for once!” Toogata scolds as Izuku picks up a tire and lugs it over to his pile of trash in the dumpster.

“I’m just too nervous, I need to get the extra energy out!” Izuku protests, now slowly dragging a stainless steel fridge off the beach.

“You’re plenty prepared! Plus, with that analysis quirk of yours, you’ll definitely pass the written exam.” The rising third year reassures him, fully believing Izuku’s lie about his quirk.

Izuku thinks it over for a few seconds. Guess who’s going to be researching robot anatomy tonight?

“D’ya think they’ll let me use support items?” He takes a break from picking up trash and ties his too long hair up into a small ponytail. Toogata tells him he looks like a rabbit and Izuku nearly strangles him.

“I don’t think they can stop you, I mean you can wear whatever you want.” The blue eyed boy grunts with the effort of carrying a motorcycle.

“They wouldn’t classify it as cheating right?” The green eyed boy wonders aloud and Toogata assures him that no, it’s not cheating.

“It’s the recommendation exam right?” The blue eyed boy confirms. Izuku nods, he wasn’t gonna apply for the heroics course until EraserHead used his recommendation on Izuku and told him he had potential which really just made him so weak that he accepted his fate.

“I didn’t take that one but Nejire told me it was an obstacle course her year, like a race or something.” Mirio supplies helpfully.

“A race?” The younger says in horror, nearly dropping a broken television set on his foot.

“Come on Midoriya, you’ve gained like twenty pounds of muscle since I met you and you’re the fastest person without a speed quirk I’ve ever met.” The older encourages.

“But-” Izuku starts.

“No buts Midoriya. You’ll be fine! How about tomorrow morning before the exam I ask Nejire and Tamaki to come and help us pick up trash and spar?” Mirio asks, hoping the younger will accept the offer because Nejire’s been nagging him nonstop about his community service companion for months.

“I’d like that.” The greenette says, flashing a bright, blinding smile at Mirio, who opens his mouth to say something and-

“I swear if you say a pun or make one of your horrendous jokes I will castrate you.” Izuku says, dropping the smile and throwing a lamp into the dumpster.

“I-I wasn’t going to!” The rising third year protests indignantly.

Izuku and Mirio stay at the beach for about an hour before they’re done for the day.

“How much longer until it’s all clean, do you think?” Green eyes question as they look up into blue ones.

“Probably only a few more days. Thanks to your help.” The older expresses his gratitude and forces Izuku to accept it.

“See you tomorrow!” Mirio yells as they walk in opposite directions.

“Bye!” The shorter yells back, smiling as he skips back to the house.

It’s only 7:00 am, there’s no way she’s awake. Right?

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The house is dark and quiet. His father has left for work and his mother will most likely sleep till noon at least.

The green haired boy sneaks around, paranoid that he’s making too much noise. He creeps past her bedroom and closes her door, then goes to his bathroom and closes all the doors before turning it on.

He winces as the water gurgles and shoots out in a spray. It feels like the shower is the loudest thing in the world right now.

Izuku strips and cleanses his body and hair of the sweat he’d accumulated from the morning stressfully quick.

It’s 7:15 when he checks the clock again.

His hair is wrapped up in a now damp towel and he’s wearing a clean t-shirt that says t-shirt and jeans. Izuku is dreading combing his hair.

At 7:20 the newly washed boy starts tackling the challenge called his hair. Inko used to sit him down on the floor in front of her sofa and carefully, lovingly, comb out the tangles in his curly hair before sending him to bed. Now Izuku puts in oils and carefully combs out the knots in his hair while it’s still wet.

When he’s done detangling and drying his hair it’s nearly 8:00.

There’s no time to waste so Izuku grabs his backpack and fills it with everything he’ll need for the day.

And at 8:05 Izuku is out the door, not going back to that house until early evening, and walking with purpose. He’s got a full schedule today.

People often think Japan has no homeless people, or that it’s very rare. It’s true that there’s a smaller population of them, but truly they’re all just hiding out of sight. Unseen on the clean streets.

Izuku walks down dirty back alleyways and feeds the strays some dry cat food that had been on sale at the small grocery store chain. He sees a box in a side street and finds two boys, probably around ten and their mother. They thank him when he supplies three sandwiches out his bag.

He checks his watch and there’s extra time. So the green haired boy makes a detour to the internet cafe, finding the cubicles full as always. He drops off sandwiches and bars of soap at the front desk, asking the man working to distribute them to everyone who’d been there overnight.

Izuku figures if he rushes then he can get there on time.

“Midoriya. You’re late.” The boy he volunteers with teases in a deadpan tone, washing his hands and putting on an apron.

“Sorry! Sorry!” Izuku smiles at the boy, he thinks his name is Tokoyemi? Todorami? Tokoyami. He’s got a killer quirk. Super cool.

The woman in front gives them name tags and thanks them for doing this. Izuku bats away the thanks and Tokoyami soaks it up.

“Does, your friend here need a nametag too?” The woman points at Dark Shadow.

“No, he will be fine.” Tokoyami says in his perpetually emotionless voice.

Dark Shadow gives the woman a thumbs up and she returns it, smiling wide enough that her cheeks shine.

About halfway through his allotted time, Izuku starts to shut down. He’s sad, contemplating the pros and cons of killing himself, but still managing to pour drinks and make rice for the shelter.

Get through it Izuku. You can do it. What the hell is wrong with you. This isn’t the time.

Tokoyami sees Izuku wobbling and takes up some of the slightly taller boy’s jobs.

“Thanks.” Izuku smiles.

“I see you too struggle with the darkness.” Tokoyami manages to get out and the boy just continues to smile because What the hell is he supposed to say to that??

The bird headed boy eventually taps Izuku’s shoulder and tells him their shift is over. Izuku groans gratefully and waves goodbye to him and Dark Shadow before he can say anything.

Tokoyami stands alone, Midoriya’s apron in his hands.

He really doesn’t let anyone get close to him, does he?

Izuku looks behind him and lets out the breath he’d been holding. Nothing against Tokoyami, he seems like a nice dude, but he’s sure that nobody would actually want to be his friend if they knew. If they knew what he’d gone through.

The green eyed boy sighs because he’s acting really out of character today. He keeps walking and walking, fiddling with the loose threads on his backpack.

It’s only when a small sneeze sounds from behind him does he realise there’s an army of children waiting for storytime following him.

Izuku plasters on a bright smile and spins around, greeting all of them and sitting on a park bench. He watches fondly as they all fight for the spot next to him in a vicious game of rock paper scissors.

Eventually a little girl with tangled black hair sits by his side and beams up at him like she won the lottery.

Maybe today he’ll tell a happy story, to cheer himself up. He takes a deep breath and everyone does an anticipatory drumroll until Izuku silences them.

“Once upon a time, there was a boy named……” Izuku starts, pausing and looking around as little boys volunteer their names for his story.

“ME!ME!ME!” A boy with orange hair, nearing ten shouts. The freckled boy chooses him.

“Named Hinata. He loved a game called volleyball.” The fourteen year old goes into a complex plot of Hinata learning that you don’t need to be tall to be good at something.

A boy named Kageyama volunteers his name next and Izuku notices them smiling at each other like they just met their new best friend.

“One day, Kageyama was trying to practice his serves, when Hinata jumped in and tried to receive it! …..But he failed and Kageyama yelled at him calling him an idiot.” Izuku says, making faces as he narrates the plot.

“But then,” Izuku lowers his voice and the crowd of children shake in anticipation, “A flash of white runs by Hinata as Kageyama practices his serve again and receives it perfectly. He even aims it to the exact position of the setter. (remember? He’s the one who passes the balls to the spikers)

He’s the Libero that the third years spoke of. The Guardian Deity of Karasuno. And his name is……” Everyone raises their hand, excited about the new character who would inevitably be their favourite.

A little boy with dark brown hair, spiked up, and a little bit dusty in the front, making it look blonde nearly jumps into the nearby tree when Izuku points to him.

“My name’s Nishinoya!” He’s smiling wide like a cheshire cat as he points to himself. Hinata immediately takes to him.

“And the Guardian Deity of Karasuno is named Nishinoya.” The teenager continues.

It’s nearly sunset by the time Izuku finishes the story.

“Awww, it’s over?” They all whine. The green haired genius shrugs and promises them he’ll be back soon.

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“Where were you?” Izuku flinches as he opens the door to his angry mother. A bit upset because he’d been feeling so accomplished and cheerful after storytime.

“I was out, um, studying.” Izuku lies, his mother narrows her eyes but he knows she believes him.

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“You were asleep.”

“Why didn’t you leave a note?”

“I’m sorry.”

“Damn right you should be sorry.” She grits out and Izuku keeps his bored facial expression on.

“Go away. I don’t want to see you anymore.” She points to the stairs and Izuku runs up.

He doesn’t tell her that he hasn’t eaten in fifteen hours.

He doesn’t tell her he has an entrance exam tomorrow.

He doesn’t tell her that he’s applying to UA.

In hindsight, maybe that was a mistake.

Chapter 5

Chapter Text

Izuku thinks that there isn’t a single person in Japan who doesn’t owe him at least one favour.

Except maybe Tokoyami. He muses. The boy is truly a ball of sunshine, despite his attachment to the darkness.

He’s been promised favours and been told that someone owes him so many times that he had to buy a new notebook just for that.

But there are those who owe him too many favours to count. Izuku calls these people friends.

He keeps tabs on all of them. Because for the most part he actually cares what happens to them and it’s not like the records of favours owed are kept with malicious intent. Nope, Izuku’s just smart. Everyone knows that.

People have their uses. Izuku doesn’t take advantage of it. He just makes sure he can.

“Midoriya?” A deep voice calls him. The short green haired boy takes great pleasure in looking ever so slightly down at Tokoyami who is just half an inch shorter than Izuku.

He’d thought that maybe he’d grow to 5’4 at least. But no. He’s quirkless, and apparently being quirkless stunts your growth. So f*ck that Izuku ordered a pair of insoles and in three days he will be a whopping inch taller.

“Ah, yeah Tokoyami?” Izuku is smiling at the bird boy who seems a bit nervous.

“I never got your number. Do you think we could text sometime?” Tokoyami seems to realise how it seems how he has romantic intent and tries to rephrase but Izuku just takes out his phone and sends a message to the shorter.

“Yeah, for sure!” He smiles one of those smiles that shines light into Tokoyami’s dark soul and Dark Shadow ever retreats.

“How’d you do that?” Tokoyami is a bit confused about how Izuku knew his number. And why he didn’t text him.

“Analysis quirk.” Izuku says as if it explains everything. He sees the bird headed boy tilt his head to the side and it takes everything inside of him to not make a joke about Tokoyami looking like a pigeon.

“sh*t, I hafta go. Sorry Tokoyami! See you next time!” The green head bobs off into the distance as he lightly sprints to where he needs to be.
The park.

Izuku is surprised that everyone is there. All of the kids are sitting and waiting for him.

“How’d you know I’d be here today?” He sneaks up behind Hinata who lets out a small peep and glares at the elder who is ruffling his orange hair.

“We come every day and wait.” Nishinoya speaks up. They all nod.

“Well, I have quite the story for you all today!” Izuku finds that a girl with glasses and blueish black hair named Kiyoko has claimed the seat next to him this time.

They stare at him, eyes shining with admiration. He shifts uncomfortably as close to fifty children look at him as if he hung the stars in the sky.

“Ok, well the story I’m telling you all today is all about me and it's completely true!” He says proudly.

They all gasp as if on cue, curiosity masking their faces.

“So, a few days ago I took the recommendation exam for UA’s hero course, and it was intense. There were so many cool quirks!” Izuku says, using jazz hands for effect.

“Now the written part was easy and boring, but the practical was an obstacle course race.” A chorus of oohs and ahs travels through his small entourage.

“We had to make it through different environments with different challenges. There was a girl who had a quirk where she could make stuff from her body’s lipids and she was super smart and finished super quickly cause she made a jetpack!” Izuku exclaims, still amazed by how talented she was.

“And there were two boys who nearly tied for first. One had a wind quirk and just blew through everything super fast, and the other boy had an ice quirk so he just made pathways to the end, but I think he has a heat element too because he melted his ice. That would be helpful though with regulation temperature. I bet he would have beat the wind kid if he’d used it too. Wonder why he didn’t, maybe there’s a traumatic even-” Izuku starts out loud and clear but dissolves into a muttering mess.

“Mister!” Kiyoko pokes him with a bored look on her face. “You’re doing it again.”

“Oh! Sorry!” Izuku apologises to the children.

“How’dya think ya did Mister?” A girl with red hair and white curly horns that look scuffed up and damaged asks.

“I think I got most of the written exam right, but I wasn’t super quick at finishing the practical. I finished it though, but I was way behind the people in front.” He sighs.

“Why?” A mysterious voice asks. He doesn’t know where it came from.

“Who- Where?” Izuku stumbles.

“I’ve got a camouflage quirk, Mister so you can’t see me.” She calls from an empty space.

“Why did I not finish fast? I don’t have a physical quirk for one, but I also helped a boy named Iida I think. He had engines in his calves but in one of the environments, I think it was swamp, they got clogged with mud and started overheating. He was about to get hurt so I couldn’t just leave him! But then he lectured me and ran ahead so I don’t know if it was worth it.” The greenette sighs while telling the story. In reality he’d done mediocre on purpose. Distantly Izuku wonders if Nedzu notices.

Yeah, Nedzu notices everything.

“Mister, I think you can be a hero!” A voice yells, breaking him out of his thought process abruptly.

“So do I!” “Me too!” “You’re already my hero!” “You were more heroic than anyone else there!”

The children bombard him with compliments and admiration and Izuku has to literally run away to escape it all.

Maybe he doesn’t need UA to become the hero he’s always needed.

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“Drink it.”

“I would rather not.”

The table between them did not have a chess board between them like usual. Instead there was a pile of colourful cards stacked up messily in the middle. The last golden rays of sun make them shine and the glare hurts his eyes.

“Drink up Nedze-sensei!” Izuku pushes the cup towards the mammal, teasing the honourific he only used when he’d won a bet.

“I respectfully decline.” He turns his head away, nose up in the air opposite of the offending drink.

Izuku rolls his eyes, slams the cup into Nedzu’s hands and sits back into his seat.

“I courteously abstain?” The principal tries.

He loses hope when the teenager maintains unwavering, challenging, threatening eye contact with him because Nedzu made a promise.

“It smells bad.” He says matter of factly. But he lifts it to his lips and Izuku lights up smiling. And he’s actually rather cute like thi-

“CHUG CHUG CHUG CHUG CHUG” The boy yells, and Nedzu takes it all back. He’s just an overpowered brat.

“I’m never playing Uno with you again.” The stoat declares, tentatively taking a sip of the liquid, ready to spit it out, but-

“It’s actually quite good.” He declares quietly, still a bit shocked. Izuku rolls his eyes and leans back on the couch with an air of superiority.

“I told you that you would like it!” The green haired boy exclaims.

“Who would have thought, hot chocolate, of all things?” The principal asks incredulously to no one in particular.

“ME!”

“Ah yes Midoriya, sh, I’m having an epiphany.”

“How do you drink so much tea without having to pee all the time I don’t understand.” Izuku mutters quietly.

“Not important.” Nedzu waves off the question.

They stare at each other, both with a cup of hot chocolate in their hands. The principal breaks the contact to take another sip and looks at Izuku with serious eyes.

“Let’s talk about the recommendation exam.”

“Are you really trying to intimidate me? Come on, Nedzu-san. I thought you knew better.” Izuku keeps a blank face but there’s amusem*nt in his voice.

“You passed the practical and with the rescue points-”

“Rescue points? Ah, that does make sense. Nice one Nedzu-san!” Midoriya cheers.

“Ahem. With the rescue points you got it lands you in fifth place.” He says calmly.

“Ah, darnit. I guess I’ll do better next time.” Izuku punches the air without dropping his straight face so the effect is ruined.

“And a 100% on the written exam.”

The green haired boy doesn’t drop the deadpan face that nobody can read because that’s wrong and this is going to be a long conversation.

“However, typically when someone purposely gets every question on the multiple choice wrong. It means they know what answers are right.” Nedzu says slyly and Izuku stiffens.

“My essa-” He starts but the stoat holds a paw up.

“You actually tried on one of your essays. Yes, I know. I purposefully made it something you’d be passionate about. Clearly ‘A quirkless man and a man with an eye colour changing quikr are both hurt and you can only rescue one. Which one do you choose and why?’ was a stimulating enough question for you to answer with ten written pages of response, despite the test having a forty five minute limit (A/N hehe it rhymes) for both the multiple choice and essays.” Nedzu says matter of factly.

“The written exam is made with the intent of nobody finishing it because they ran out of time, or failing because they rushed. I intended to finish it and fail for a different reason. Also, that question was bullsh*t Nedzu,” Izuku spits, leaving out the honourific that stoat has worked so hard to earn. “I can’t be the hero I’ve always wanted if you’re teaching me to be the hero I hate.”

The green haired boy leaves in a huff, slamming the door on his way out.

Nedzu puts down his now cold hot chocolate and calmly stares at the couch where Izuku normally sits.

That outburst is an issue, yes. However, he’s now sure Izuku won’t join the hero course. It was the most likely outcome since the start but the albino had hoped the young boy would surprise him again.

Sometimes the resentment goes so deep, that no matter what anyone says, they won’t change their mind.

“Ah, yes.” Nedzu hops off of his seat and calls Present Mic, Power Loader, and Midnight.

Izuku would be taking five tests when he decides to come back. And four of them won’t be Nedzu’s.

“It’s been long enough. He’s ready. He can handle it.” Nedzu assures himself as he walks over to the printer which is churning out sheet after sheet of an assessment that’d only been taken twice.

He’s sitting in his office chair, watching Aizawa walk Izuku home through the security cameras he’d hacked when Izuku looks up at the camera hidden in the trees, making direct eye contact, takes out his phone and types something, before throwing something at it causing the video to fizzle out.

The stoat switches cameras. There were seven that had a view of the area. It wasn’t that big of a deal.

He simply typed in a code and pressed enter, sitting back in his chair. He smiles to himself but it’s not out of happiness.

He’s f*cking pissed.

Access Denied

Maybe the situation’s been flipped for a while now and Nedzu just hadn’t noticed.

However now it’s clear. He’s at Midoriya Izuku’s mercy. Everyone is. They’re just so lucky he’s not a villain.

Maybe all this time when Nedzu thought he’d been toying with the boy, manipulating him ever so slightly, just to make sure he didn’t go to another school that wasn’t UA, Izuku had been doing it right back.

And Izuku almost always wins when they play games.

The stoat looks at the stack of pages, hot and fresh out of the printer, the ink still tacky and smudgeable.

It’s fifty pages long but the shortest time it’s taken to complete it was three separate sessions, all five hours long like Izuku’s.

Everything is clear to Nedzu now. He’s been underestimating Midoriya Izuku.

Quite the mistake to make.

%

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Aizawa hasn’t spoken to Izuku and it’s been five minutes. Maybe it’s because last time Aizawa gave him advice and it’d almost made him do it. Izuku had almost given it his all on the practical exam, Izuku had almost actually tried (except for that one goddamn essay) on the written exam. All because of one man.

How could one man nearly undo all that had been done to him?

Izuku’s not one hundred percent sure he wants to find out.

Aizawa stops walking and is relieved to find that this time Midoriya has stopped too, unlike last time where he didn’t give him the time of day and kept walking.

“I-” The pro hero starts.

“One second.” Izuku holds up a finger and makes eye contact with a camera hidden in the trees. The older man is surprised that he’s never noticed it before. Izuku pulls out his phone and types something in. Aizawa notices the red lights that tell you the camera is recording fades out in all the surrounding surveillance.

He hopes Izuku isn’t planning to kill him.

“That’ll piss him off.” Izuku chuckles quietly underneath his breath.

Aizawa readies himself for a fight as the green haired boy reaches into his pocket and grips something.

He then throws a small knife at the camera in the trees with alarming accuracy.

“Ok, continue.” Izuku says, satisfied.

“Ah, okay. I watched you take the recommendation exam.” Aizawa says.

“Yes? You are a teacher after all. They could be your students. I already know this. Why are you telling me?” The shorter asks.

“What time is it?” The black haired man asks instead.

“Don’t change the subject. I hate when people do that. It’s 7:08 pm.” Izuku says a bit angrily.

“Tell your mom you’ll be late.”

“Why?”

“We need to talk.”

“We’re talking right now.”

“Midoriya.”

“Aizawa.”

“I’d forgotten how infuriating you are when you want to be. Jesus christ, will you please just come with me?” He pleads.

Midoriya looks like he’s considering it for a moment.

“I’ll come, but if I don’t want to talk.” Izuku narrows his gaze and Aizawa swallows nervously. “You can’t make me.”

The greenette starts walking at a rapid pace that the underground hero has to jog slightly to keep up with.

He finds himself at the wall where he’d once found Izuku sleeping and then had quite the day with him. The memories of Izuku’s panic attack, Izuku dissociating because of his stupidity, the sludge villain attack, and his promise appear in his mind.

Twilight is just ending, the clouds are dark purple and remind him of Kurogiri's portals when he’s happy. There's a thin sheet of orange sun glowing between the suffocating purple and grey of darkness.

“You didn’t try that hard on the exam. In the practical you made sure you’d be just behind the person in fourth place. You didn’t want to make the cut.” Aizawa states, looking at the child who nods.

“And the written exam. You failed on purpose.” He states again. Izuku nods again.

“Why?”

“I promised you I would become the greatest hero.”

“Yeah?”

“But, I don’t think I can do that at UA. I don’t think I want to be the hero that I would be taught to be.”

“What?”

“I can fight and all but that’s not where my speciality lies. Plus, the type of hero work I want to do is different and maybe more suited to a detective or policeman. I want to be a different type of hero.”

“What’s your speciality?” Aizawa asks, wondering if it’s the boy’s quirk.

“EraserHead. Homeroom teacher for the hero course. Class 1-A, the best of the best. Though class 1-B held more promise last year given the fact you expelled everyone. You probably give them a test on the first day to measure their potential and expel the ones without it. Your quirk is that you can erase someone’s quirk as long as it’s not a mutant type, but the effect goes away when you blink. You suffer from dry eyes and carry around artificial tears everywhere you go. Prolonged battles are difficult because your eyesight gets blurry. If you use your quirk for too long your eyes get red and sensitive to light. Based on your appearance I’d say you live alone and have let’s sayyyy two cats even though you are allergic. You don’t shower often to keep your water bill down, you prefer comfortable clothes over stylish ones, you’ve been growing out that pathetic beard for a few years now and despite how scraggly it is, you refuse to shave it, and you didn’t pick your hero name because you wanted to be an underground hero. I think Hizashi might’ve? There are hundreds of ways to take you down and easily defeat you. Would you like me to elaborate or is this enough?” Izuku sighs. He could’ve said more but that might’ve freaked the man out too much. Behind his back the boy fiddles with his pocketknife and flips it in his hand. An adult knows his speciality. He’s probably not going to tell but he shouldn’t assume. Izuku

“Analysis.” A voice breathes out behind Izuku.

“Yep.” The green haired boy turns around to face the underground hero.

“Midoriya, what type of hero do you want to be?” Aizawa asks, hoping he says underground because it’d be amazing to have this boy’s skill to help him.

“I want to help the people that aren’t seen. The ones who cry and beg for help but are never heard. I want to protect the parts of Tokyo that heroes don’t patrol because it won’t help them gain popularity and they don’t care about the types of people there. I want to save the people who are waiting and wishing for help they’ll never get. I want to punish those who aren’t called villains but deserve to be.” Izuku grits out passionately. He wants to say children instead of people but something in the back of his mind tells him that would be too obvious. Too obvious he’s talking about children like him.

“You can do that. The hero course can teach you. I can teach you. You could be a rescue hero! I’m an underground hero, and I think that you should be one too.” Aizawa says a bit hopefully but he keeps his tone even like always.

“Hah. You don’t understand.” Izuku says a bit sadly. He looks at him with piercing eyes that looks like they’ve been haunted for years. Looks like the soul behind them was abandoned long ago.

The taller man looks at the smaller for a long time and he remembers that this is a child. He’s not helpless or meek. He’s strong and smart. He’s so smart you forget he’s a child sometimes.

“Maybe I don’t. One day, you’ll have to explain it to me in more detail so I can.” Aizawa says decidedly. The boy is now beside him and looking down at the pavement below his feet. A few seconds pass and Midoriya doesn’t say anything back.

“Now,” Aizawa’s eyes soften when the green haired boy looks up at him with wide eyes. They’re masked and protected but they’re listening and watching. He shivers a bit. Always watching. “If you don’t want to join the hero course yet that’s fine. Give it some more thought. The school year is starting late this year and if you join another course but do well in the sports festival we can bump you up.”

Izuku stays silent, watching, waiting.

“Hey, you said that you could tell me all the ways someone could beat me. Can you tell me them?”

“Sure.” It’s a sad, emotionless voice to the normal person’s ear. However Aizawa has been trying so hard to find emotions in the boy that he hears the small spark of excitement.

“Well, first of all, you could fight a villain who has support items. They could have tear gas and easily defeat you, despite your goggles. Similar outcomes from situations like this include a villain using flash grenades, pepper spray, a light quirk, a flashlight, etc.” Izuku finishes his first example of how someone could defeat him. (Technically it was several examples but whatever).

“Ok, now. Midoriya, how would I protect myself from these situations?” Aizawa asks, genuinely curious because he wants to be a better hero. Plus hearing all of the ways someone could beat him is a bit nerve wracking. So far it was mainly quirkless too. Meaning literally anyone could beat him.

Midoriya thinks for a minute, he’s hiding a smile because someone other than Nedzu isn’t treating him like a child for once.

“For situations regarding light you could get goggles made of one way mirrors so that the light would blind them in return, rendering you both without sight. However it would work better if you stacked lenses and had light sensitive glass behind the one way mirror. It darkens when it’s bright, but remains clear when it’s dark.” Midoriya says enthusiastically. His emotionless mask slipping off to reveal a cheerful boy, rambling about how to deal with light quirks and weapons.

“Hm. What about protecting my eyes from the pepper spray or tear gas?” Aizawa asks because this is good advice.

“For pepper spray you would need to have goggles with no holes in them so they protect your eyes and nothing gets in. But that would make your goggles fog up from the inside, so I would recommend having a protective layer of bulletproof, shatterproof, ya know, the works, glass. Which would also prevent situation #42, someone crushing or breaking your goggles, causing them to be useless and possibly pierce your eyes. But to prevent pepper spray, I would have the protective layer and a filter in the sides. Same with tear gas. However I would recommend a mask with a filter too so you don’t breathe it in.” Izuku rambles intelligently.

“I see.”

“Here, let me do something real quick.” Izuku suddenly plops down onto the cement and pulls a notebook out of his backpack. Out of the pro hero’s sight he grips a small blade in his hand, ready to use it. Just in case.

Aizawa watches him draw and construct a support item for him. They’re new goggles and they look exactly the same as his current ones but they’re just better.

There’s a voice control function where he can say what the threat is and the lenses will switch out automatically to help him deal with it best.

It’s amazing and sounds impossible, but with the notes and instructions and precise measurements for specific materials, as well as step by step instructions of how to code the voice control that Izuku has written in barely comprehensible handwriting, he’s made it possible.

“That’s all I could do with the amount of light we have. Sorry! I have to go now Aizawa. Seeya soon!” Aizawa hears a rip and suddenly there are three pages filled with notes and instructions on how to craft the goggles in his hands.

He turns around to thank the boy, but just like last time he’s nowhere to be seen.

Aizawa grips the paper. He gets the feeling that he’s done something right for once.

There’s a small worrying voice in the back of his mind telling him that the boy might get hurt but he ignores it for now.

It’s probably best to leave him alone. He’s safe at home.

Right?

%

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Izuku checks the driveway. There’s no car. Distantly he wonders where they are. The immediately remembers he doesn’t really care.

They come back at 4 am, just after Izuku finally managed to fall asleep. He doesn’t greet them. He hears footsteps going up the stairs. It’s his mother running up and his father following her closely.

The floor outside of his room creaks as she steps on it and Izuku immediately pretends to be asleep.

“Hisashi! Hisashi! Hisashiii!” She says in a baby voice. The scent of alcohol wafts into his room.

She only uses that voice when they’ve gotten into a fight and she’s hurt him and yelled, but soon after comes back crying, using that voice, playing victim and acting like a literal toddler. The fourteen year old wonders how Hisashi falls for it everytime. The manipulation.

“Come on, Inko.”

“NO, I wanna see him! I wanna look. Look he’s so cute!” She squeals. Izuku feels a strong urge to throw up the ramen he ate for dinner.

There’s a dip in his bed as he feels the weight of his mother sit much to close for his liking. He gives her the cold shoulder because he's supposed to be asleep but her presence irks him. Somehow it feels cold.

She stays silent and stares at him for a second. The teen wants to curl up out of sight. Away from her but he can’t. He’s scared. His father is attempting to coax her out of his room and Izuku just wishes she would go.

The dip in the bed lifts and his mattress springs up as she wobbly follows Hisashi, not without stepping on his shirt that he’d set out for tomorrow, making it dirty as she walks out.

“Let’s go to bed now. Come on.” There are fading footsteps and Izuku relaxes.

He doesn’t fall back asleep but that’s to be expected. He’s just happy there’s no lesson with Nedzu in the afternoon. The green haired boy pulls his phone out from underneath his bed where it’s charging and texts Tomura.

Soon enough he has plans to go to their cafe. He wonders if they’ll ‘kidnap’ him again. Izuku can’t find it in himself to care very much anymore.

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Izuku sits in his bed and stares at the wall for a few minutes. It’s blank and his eyes are dazed. He’s tire debut he can’t sleep and his joints are creaking and-

The f*cking sun is shining in his eyes.

“Oh so it’s morning?” He says to himself.

The sleepy boy doesn’t move, he just stares at the wall again.

Tears well up in his eyes.

Izuku’s not quite sure why they’re there but they are.

He doesn’t blink. Instead he lets the tears drop onto his lower lashes and slide down his face.

It’s odd. Sometimes he’ll just be sitting somewhere, doing nothing at all and tears.

One from each eye. No more, no less. He’s not even sad.

Izuku feels nothing.

What’s the point of going out, it doesn’t sound as fun as it did last night.

But with his sense of self preservation and obligation he pulls his weight up and stands for a second while the blood rushes to his head and his vision clouds black briefly, a numb sound in his head while they clear up.

He takes a step and crumples to the floor.

It happens sometimes.

There’s an almost silent fizzing sound from behind him and Izuku smiles, wiping his tears swiftly, not questioning how the man with the warp quirk got the exact coordinates of his room.

“Hey Kurogiri.”

“Midoriya.”

He appreciates the fact that Kurogiri never asks questions. Izuku tells himself to be more careful next time. People he doesn’t trust have seen him cry. Just another mistake.

The boy is sure the villain saw his hand move from wiping his face, and the wetness on the back of it.

A portal wraps around him caringly and Izuku thinks it feels like a- what was it called again?

“I’m hugging you.” A voice that makes Izuku think of the early days when his father had let him ride in the front seat of his oldest, and favourite car.

It had a smell to it that made him happy and calm. Coffee, ash, mothballs, old paper, dusty dress shirts. It sounds gross and maybe the car was broken and didn’t have heat and the leather seats were always ripped and somehow cold, but it was his favourite car.

This was years before Izuku began to fear sitting in a car alone with an adult.

They’d been going out to a movie and hit a deer. Totalled the already halfway dead car. Hisashi had shrugged like it was no big deal when they hit it.

But Izuku was scared.

He hid the tears from his father because it wasn’t a big enough deal to cry for.

If he asked for comfort he’d be scolded for crying at all.

No, it was much better to keep it to himself, bottle it up.

A hug. That’s what Aizawa had called it. But it was warmer than Kurogiri’s portal quirk, and it smelled better and safer and somehow sunnier in the erasure hero’s arms than in his father’s car.

He’s ripped out of those thoughts when Kurogiri unceremoniously dumps him onto the floor of the bar from the ceiling, intending to have the boy flop on his face so Tomura would get a kick out of it and laugh that raspy laugh of his. He didn’t take into account the quick reflexes of a child like Izuku.

“He’s like a f*cking cat.” An amused voice drawls out. Dabi is stirring an unhealthy amount of sugar into his coffee with a knife that clinks against the porcelain and nobody knows if it’s clean. Nobody really cares at this point.

Izuku has somehow in the short space between the ceiling and the floor, landed on the soles of his feet, flat and silent.

Toga jumps on his back and neither of them are spared from the large flinch of Izuku when she first touches him.

“Kurogiri you’re my saviour.” Izuku calls from inside the portal. His voice echoing out to the surprised and very relieved man who is no longer making the greenette a shirley temple.

“If you hadn’t saved him he would’ve smashed his head open on the bar stool!” She whines.

“Yes. I’m quite glad too.” The bartender pushes Izuku out of the portal and the boy jumps to his feet, putting out grabby hands for the Shirley temple that is now finished.

“That’s not what I meant.” She grumbles. It’s been so long since she’s seen Izuku with even a drop of blood on him.

“Thank you for caring Toga-chan.” Izuku smiles teasingly. The blonde perks up at the honourific and everyone else groans.

“Why’d she get one?” “I’m literally named Sensei and somehow he avoids it.” “I thought you only gave them to people you respect!”

“She deserves it. No she doesn’t she just whined about him not smashing his head open!” “I’ve known you longest! We get coffee every week!”

“I respect her. She’s more of a hero than any one I’ve ever met!” Izuku declares boldly.

“Thanks ‘Zuku-chan!” Toga sings out. Twice owes her five thousand yen, Dabi owes her ten thousand, wow she’s basically rich.

“The hell you mean, ‘more of a hero than any one you’ve ever met!’ ?” Dabi screams incredulously.

“Think about it like this. You can’t be half hero half villain. Sure there's a vigilante but they’re just villains to everyone though they’re really the real heroes. You can be a hero and do heroic acts, but if you do one villainous thing all of a sudden you’re not anymore. If you’re a villain and do a few villainous acts but then realise your mistakes and begin to help and save people, you’re still a villain.” Izuku explains.

“Toga killed her parents, hurts people all the time. But they’re people who deserve it. She saves people from getting hurt by killing those hurting them. Isn’t that what being a hero is all about? Saving people?” The freckled boy mutters out.

The bar is silent.

“I killed your history teacher, will you call me Tomura-kun now?” The blue haired man is playing with the knife he got for his birthday as he breaks the silence easily.

“What did you just say?”

He takes a step towards Tomura. HIs eyes are blazing and the man doesn’t even seem to realise what he’s done wrong.

“I told you that as a secret. I shared that with you out of my personal experience. This has nothing to do with you. I told you not to meddle. Why didn’t you even ask me?” Izuku holds the man with a disintegration quirk’s wrist. His eyes fearless.

“I’m sorry what? You should be calling me a hero, kid.” Tomura objects. He did the right thing.

“He’s not doing anything to me anym-”

“He could’ve been doing stuff to other children like you, Izuku.” Tomura’s eyes pierce Izuku’s as he steps back. How could he be so arrogant? He’s so dumb.

“ ‘M sorry. You’re a hero too Tomura.” Izuku gets out, looking a little bit upset.

“Still no honourific? You run a hard bargain, kid.” Dabi whistles out.

“I know you didn’t tell me everything. We can talk later.” Tomura whispers and the teen can’t find it in himself to meet the older’s gaze.

“Let’s play Monopoly!” Izuku jumps up and Toga squeals a ‘yes!’ while scrambling away to get the board.

“I’m in, but only if the kid doesn’t play.” Dabi puts his hand up.

“What?!? Why?” Izuku whines.

“Cause you always win. It’s a game Izuku. You don’t need to demolish your opponents everytime.” Tomura deadpans, sitting around the board now being set up by Toga.

“Kurogiri, you in?” Toga calls.

The portal man looks a bit conflicted and hesitates before warping to the edge of the board.

“Twice?” Dabi offers.

“Absolutely not. That sounds like fun! I suck ass at boardgames dude. I kick ass at boardgames bro!” He gets out.

“I’ll take that as a no.”

“Hey,” Izuku calls out on the television screen. “You gonna play or no?”

“Izuku Midoriya I’m still perplexed on how you’ve managed to never say my name.”

“You need to earn an honourific. Give me a name that isn’t one and I’ll call you it.” Izuku shrugs.

“All For One.”

“Ok no. Real names here bro.” The television screen manages to seem ruffled and sputters out a name.

“Donyoku”

“Ok, Donyoku, are ya playing or no?” Izuku says nonchalantly. So he chose a sin. Odd.

“If Sensei plays I’ll lose though! Why can’t we play a video game!” Tomura whines loudly. Dabi wrenches a hand off of his face.

“If you don’t shut up I will shove this hand so far up your ass-” Dabi starts.

“FATHER” The deranged man child calls to the hand that has been snatched away by the eldest Todoroki.

“I mean if you’re into that, you can call me daddy.” Dabi teases in a serious voice.

“SENSEI” He whines.

“Kurogiri.” Donyoku sighs.

“Yes sir.” He warps Tomura’s hand back to him

“I think I’ll pass. You have fun.” The television turns off and Izuku shrugs.

“Come onnn. I wanna play!” Toga whines and stabs Dabi’s thigh. He doesn’t even wince.

Instead he grips the knife, pulls it out and points to a chair in the corner of the room.

“Go in the corner.” He says a bit tiredly.

She sulks like a puppy and drops all of her knives onto the ground and sits facing the wall.

“All of them.”

There’s a thud as she drops a swiss army knife on Tomura’s head who screeches indignantly.

“She’s in time out?” The boy sitting on the bar stool, just watching this all happen amusedly asks the warp villain who is looking a bit concerned as Dabi declares he’s going to be the banker.

“Yes. For thirty minutes, and then she doesn’t get knife privileges until next morning.” Kurogiri says casually in a tired voice and Izuku can tell that this is a common occurrence.

“Ok. Shigaraki Tomura are you ready to start?”

“I’m going to crush all of you. Izuku’s the boss at games and you all are just NPCs!”

“Oi shut up for once, will you?” The fire quirked man whines as he places a small metal dog on the start square.

Kurogiri rolls the die. It seems they’ve all forgotten how long Monopoly goes on for.

Toga walks out of the corner and plops down next to Izuku, pouting.

He wants to console her but she just smiles at him and he can’t help but think she looks a bit nervous without her knives on her.

The two disqualified players end up playing connect four. Toga quits after losing 15 times in a row. He notices that she’s different. Not as bloodthirsty.

Maybe even Toga’s got a soft side to her.

The frantic shouts from the monopoly board drag him out of his thoughts.

“You’re on my property, give me money.”

“f*ck you, my dick’s bigger I don’t have to pay.”

“Dabi, give Shigaraki Tomura his money.”

“You can’t steal from the bank.”

“I’m the banker so it’s not stealing.”

“Tomura you have to go to f*cking jail.”

“Make me.”

“Kurogiri you can’t warp your pieces past Go just because you need money.”

“I assure you it did not mention that in the rules.”

“I passed Go.”

“Good for you.”

“I need money”

“Don’t we all?”

“If you don’t give me money I’m going to go bankrupt!”

“Get in f*cking line jackass!”

“It’s not that hard, all you have to do is pick up two bills and GIVE THEM TO ME!”

“Why are you asking me?”

“BECAUSE YOU’RE THE f*ckING BANKER!”

“Oh damn really? You should’ve told me.”

“Ok, now give me my money.”

“Say please.”

“You are insufferable. Worse than All Might.”

“Wow, I’m going to call the manager. How rude.”

“Just give me my pass Go money.”

“No I don’t think I will.”

By the time the game ends, the boars is burned around the edges and all of Dabi’s money has mysteriously turned into dust much to his disgrace.

Izuku’s sides hurt from laughing so much.

It wouldn’t be too bad. he muses.

To be a villain.

Chapter 6

Chapter Text

The bar is full of life and playfulness as they all huddle around the warp villain and the little genius. The two are staring at each other with intense gazes, tension thick enough to cut with a knife, neither daring to look away or break it.

Kurogiri narrows his eyes at the boy who is giving him the blankest stare he’s ever seen. Toga watches the staring contest, giggling and delighted because Izuku trusted her with the task of referee.

“Two thousand yen on Izuku.” Dabi slaps a note onto the bar and Tomura grins.

“You’re on. Kurogiri could never los-”

Kurogiri blinks.

“HAHA!” Izuku screams out in triumph as Toga announces him the winner and Tomura pouts, fishing out his wallet.

“Fine, ask away.” Kurogiri sighs, resigning to his fate. If Izuku won the contest he got to ask a question, and vice versa.

“Are you pretending to be an adult?” Izuku asks, tilting his head to the side and Kurogiri remembers just how observant the boy is.

“.....Yes. I’m actually only 19. Which is why Tomura bosses me around so much.” The warp gate antihero glares in the direction of the elder who whistles innocently.

“That means the only adult here is Donyoku.” Izuku comments off-handedly.

“How did you know? I mean, I was a bit confused on why you were so friendly to me, considering you hate adults, but you knew?” The purple shadow man questions.

“Ah, instinct.” The green haired boy waves him off and yells in the direction of the pixelated television, “I still don’t like you.”

“What a shame.” Sensei deadpans.

“‘Zuku-chan! Twice said he’d buy us food from that new place near the flower store!” Toga sings out happily.

“No I didn’t you little- Okay, yes I did.”

“Really! Toga-chan, you’re amazing!” Izuku gives her a double high five.

“I know!” She picks up her knife and knicks Twice’s wallet, then runs out the door with Izuku trailing her.

“How ‘bout we play darts next time? I betcha we’d destroy.” Izuku suggests as they sprint towards the food stand, ignoring the angry cries of Twice behind them and the yell from Tomura to wait up.

They turn a corner and slow down as they approach the stand.

There’s a scream and then some more muffled noises. Toga stands up straight and bolts towards the sound. Izuku runs as fast as he can, but he can’t keep up with her.

The thing about Toga is that she doesn’t use her quirk often. She’s known since she was a child that it was a villain’s quirk. But since she’s already being called a villain, what’s the point in not using her quirk?

It just makes it hurt more. Since she was labeled as a villain from a young age, no matter what she does, it’s the actions of a villain.

Izuku arrives panting, hunched over, sweat dripping down his neck. Toga has a knife to the man’s neck.

“Can you help her? He was trying to…. assault her.” Toga says, keeping her voice calm and careful to prevent triggering the woman who is curled up on the ground, her shirt torn into shreds.

“Miss? You’re okay now, do you have any injuries? Here, let me give you my jacket. You’re okay. It’s okay. He’s not going to hurt you anymore.” Izuku soothes, Toga threatens the man in the background but shouts encouragement towards the woman who is nodding tearfully.

“I’ll call the police okay?”

“No! They won’t believe me. He’s a hero.” She shouts, sadly and angrily.

“He’s no hero.” Toga sneers in a deep voice.

“I know you, you’re Native.” Izuku says, he hadn’t liked the ‘hero’ since he debuted given his racist name but now…

“Not anymore.” The blonde girl slits Native’s throat and leaves him to drown in his own blood. The woman they just saved who was once thanking them looks at them in pure horror and screams.

Because killing a ‘hero’ means you must be a villain.

%

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The thing about wanting to go unnoticed and unrecognised is that you have to make minor changes to your features that distinguish you. Just enough to make sure nobody notices they’re different.

Izuku needs a backup plan. If he goes missing or does something bad, he needs their descriptions of him to be wrong.

He covers up his freckles. They’re faintly still there, shining through the concealer. But he’s managed to make them look faded. Soon he’d erase them from existence without anyone noticing.

But this was the first test. Would Nedzu notice? He generally points out anything he deems important or anything that he’s observed that wouldn’t hurt to be said.

He walks in and the stoat looks at him strangely for a second before looking at the floor and saying,

“Something feels off.”

“Well that sucks. What are we playing today?” Izuku sidesteps and although Nedzu looks very put off by the slight change that he can’t quite put his finger on, he hesitantly joins the conversation.

“I’m assuming our strike of the horrendous game known as chess is still in action.” He grins solemnly.

“Indeed. May I suggest a video game this time?” Izuku proposes politely expecting the principal of UA to get that gleam of determination in his eye because video games are so easy to rig and require strategy.

Instead Nedzu sighs and confirms Izuku’s condition that Nedzu cannot hack, or cheat any games.

“I rather….” He looks for the correct word. “Despise video games actually.”

“.....what.”

The stoat squirms in the silence that cloaks the room and Izuku is thrilled because other than the times he’s been able to pet Nedzu, the animal has never shown so much discomfort.

“So even the renowned principal of UA has a weakness. He sucks ass at video games.” Izuku whistles out as Nedzu wilts slightly at the screen in front of him that reads [ELIMINATED].

“It’s quite annoying given I am able to decipher the patterns and decide what strategy to use. Yet my lack of opposable thumbs and my evolution not giving me blue light sensitive eyes I cannot use my full power.” He sighs, simply dropping his controller out of the window and brushing his hands free of any evidence he ever held it as if it had personally offended him.

“Huh. Well I won. You know what that means.” Izuku says while doing jazz hands and the principal looks like he’d rather be anywhere else than here right now.

“I’m quite afraid I do not know what you are talking about, Midoriya.” He turns his nose up in the air and Izuku rolls his eyes.

“Nedzu. Stop sending teachers to follow me home.” The quirkless boy demands.

“I am not aware of this teacher situation.”

“......You can keep sending Aizawa but no one else.”

“Deal.” They shake hands.

“Well, I guess I have to go now.” The fourteen year old

“Midoriya. UA entrance exams are soon an-”

“I already tried and failed the hero exam, Nedzu.” Izuku narrows his eyes and the animal in question winces because the boy is radiating an aura that is telling him something very bad is going to happen if he says something wrong. The dropped honourific solidifies the fact he’s lost Izuku’s full trust and will have to work hard to get both that and his respect back after the exam.

“I meant other courses.” The principal lays out five written tests.

“What?”

“You don’t have to take the practicals, Midoriya. But please do your best on these written tests. Hero course too. Choose what UA course you want to attend.” The albino is basically begging at this point.

“Why are you doing this, Nedzu? What do you want in return?” He can’t trust. He can never trust.

“Don’t apply to another school.”

“You mean, don’t apply to Shiketsu.”

“...Yes.”

“Fine. But one wrong move, Nedzu. And you’ll wish you were never blessed with a quirk.”

“Ah, good. Next session come early and you can take the Support, General Education, Management, and Hero. You can start my test if you have time. However I doubt it will take you less than three sessions to even finish.” Nedzu says, a glint in his eyes.

“Is that a challenge?” Izuku grins.

“Maybe.”

%

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%

The quirkless boy shoves earbuds in his ears and walks quickly. Aizawa takes the hint that Midoriya is not in the mood to have a conversation today.

They walk in awkward silence and to Aizawa’s amusem*nt, Izuku shows the most enthusiasm and emotion when he’s listening to music.

The smaller is bopping his head and mouthing lyrics. He’s smiling and when the pro hero looked away he may have spun.

A few minutes later Aizawa is surprised to see Izuku pulling the cord out of his phone in a gesture close to kindness.

In fact, Izuku just wants to show off his music to Aizawa because he’s excited about music. It’s probably his favourite thing.

The music blasts out and the greenette keeps looking up at the erasure hero for approval.

“I was not expecting this kind of music from you. It’s very…...diverse.” Aizawa comments carefully. He’s prompting a conversation from Izuku.

“Yeah! I listen to all different kinds of music! Because they’re all so good. It doesn’t matter the language or anything. It’s just music and it’s good.” He sends a glare at the adult walking next to him as if challenging him to say otherwise.

“What are your favourite genres?”

“Well, I’m not sure if they’re specifically genres but let me explain, it’s kind of complicated.” Izuku begins and Aizawa’s mouth curves up at the edges.

“My favourite band is called XXX and they’re a band that sings in a different language. I don't understand why people don't listen to a song ebcause it's not the language they speak. Like, It's just music and if it sounds good and you like it you should listen to it! Also, I really like classical music. Like the beat drop in Winter Movement 1 by Vivaldi? Iconic. Don’t laugh at me you chucklef*ck I’m talking about serious sh*t here. Ok, but I also really like a band called AJR. They have really good music. And it’s so relatable. Karma is such a bop and the last verse is literal poetry. *chefs kiss* But going back to WW, they’re such talented guys and their vocals are so so good and their music is so experimental and different which I think is super cool andIdon’tknowIjustreallylikethemdon’tjudgemesorryforramblingyouprobablydon’tcare.” Izuku mutters and rambles enthusiastically about his music preferences and Aizawa didn’t understand half of it but he smiles anyway.

“You sound very passionate about it.” Aizawa comments.

“Yeah. I just think people who are good at singing are super talented. Musicians are amazing.”

“Do you sing?”

“God no. I sound like a dying cow at best.” The freckled genius laughs out comfortably.

“Do you play an instrument?” AIzawa asks, hoping this conversation will make Izuku trust him at least a little bit.

It seems all his hopes have gone to sh*t because Izuku’s open, happy, excited face closes up and a mask covers it up. His eyes go blank and he turns off the music he clearly loves and adores.

“Yeah. I do.”

The conversation ends there.

%

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Izuku never did understand why people covered their eyes when they cried. It makes your hands stick and wet and dirty. After all, Inko never lets him wipe his tears when he cries.

“DON’T TOUCH YOUR f*ckING FACE IZUKU. THIS IS THE THIRD GODDAMN TIME I’VE TOLD YOU THAT.” She screams in his ear.

He sits, eyes firmly planted staring at the road ahead of him, hating the feeling of tears running into his mouth and underneath his chin and down his neck. His nose running and dripping but he wasn’t allowed to touch his face for some reason she had.

This was a mistake. He shouldn’t have said he would come with her to get coffee. It seemed like an innocent offer. Maybe they could just go to the cafe and talk happily. He was wrong. Wrong wrong wrong wrong.

She screams in his ear. He blocks it out.

She grabs his upper arm.

Threat.

Izuku knows better than to pull his arm away.

The tears he’s been trying to suppress drip out of his eyes and it seems to spur her on.

She’s driving. She pulls off precariously onto the side of the road. She’s seething.

Izuku is physically shaking in fear.

Inko uncaps her coffee.

It’s fresh. Her ridiculous order of a coffee with ten packets of raw sugar is still piping hot as indicated by the steam wafting off of it.

The greenette had always loved the smell of coffee.

Hisashi loves coffee.

Izuku’s always liked Hishashi better.

Hishashi didn’t yell at him. Hisashi didn’t hurt him.

But Hisashi never stopped Inko.

It’s not as if any adult has ever helped Izuku before. How would telling anyone about Inko help?

It wouldn’t.

Young children have thinner skin, this results in deeper and more severe burns. Children have greater body proportion that is exposed to a scalding substance.

Hot beverages like coffee and tea are usually served at 160-180°F (71-82°C) and can cause instant burns when falling on the skin, these burns will require surgery.

Inko uncaps the cup and throws her hot coffee on Izuku.

It hurts.

It hurts.

She dumps the empty cup outside of the car and yells some more.

He wants to tell her not to litter. But that would make her angrier.

And he can’t.

It hurts.

It hurts.

Someone please help.

The car pulls into the driveway.

“Get out.”

Izuku tries. He really tries.

Inko pushes him out of the car and onto the gravel.

He tries not to cry out but it hurts it hurts it hurts it-

He looks at his arms where the coffee, 88 degrees celsius gave him third degree burns.

Speckled all over him.

The right side of his face, covering half of his eye. The skin on his arms is dark brown and peeling and blistering and red. It’s bleeding because of the gravel.

Help.

He can hear Inko slamming her door and stomping inside. It’s his chance he can-

He feels lightheaded. It hurts.

His phone. He has his phone.

Three names run through his brain.

Nedzu. Tomura.

Aizawa.

He presses a random contact and weakly whispers into the speaker.

“Help.”

The shock gets to him and his world goes black.

He lies on the dirty gravel driveway.

It seems that today is the day when Izuku’s life changes.

%

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They rose up from the ground, barely sparing a glance at the defeated villain below them.

A gloved hand pulled their voice changer up over their mouth as they dialed a number into their burner phone.

“Tsukauchi. I have a present for you.” They deadpanned.

They heard a smack from the other end of the call and assumed it was the mentioned detective’s head hitting his desk.

“Dust.” The elder gritted out over the phone.

“That’s me. Now, there’s a level 6 villain tied up and unconscious at the convenience store near the cherry blossom tree. That wasn’t very descriptive but it’s near the aquarium. You know what? You guys are smart you can figure it out.” They rambled matter-of-factly.

“Hey you can’t d-”

“I’m not breaking the law if there’s no evidence of me using a quirk or assaulting villains.” They hung up the phone.

About ten minutes later when the police finally did arrive, the only description of the vigilante, Dust they had was that they were a short person with what the villain assumed to be dark coloured hair.

They watched the whole fiasco from the top of the building.

“I must prepare for the UA entrance exams. The world won’t wait for me.” They monologued to themselves as they slipped away from the crime scene, a dark shadow in their wake.

%

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%

Izuku enters the principal’s office like normal. Except something’s off.

He’s now officially erased his freckles to make himself less traceable but that’s not what’s off.

Nedzu is sitting in his chair drinking tea per usual.

What could be off?

The couches.

He analyzes the sofa he always sits on and glares at Nedzu.

The green haired boy (Who is now slowly dying his hair darker and darker) pulls a pocket knife out of his pocket and without breaking eye contact stabs the cushioned seat and pulls out a whoopie cushion.

Nedzu looks disappointed, but not surprised.

“Why?” Izuku asks, his eyes closed and slightly exasperated because this is the fifth time today.

Earlier when he was telling the kids stories like usual, there was a whoopie cushion there too.

“I was conducting an experiment.” Nedzu answers, taking a sip of his tea.

“One day I’m going to put rat poison in your tea.” Izuku growls and Nedzu looks disgusted at the mention of hurting animals.

“May I ask how you knew? I thought that one would get you for certain.”

“The seams. The seams of the couch are invisible, so when I came in today I noticed the seam was white and not hidden. Honestly, sloppy work, are you losing your touch Nedzu? Also the couch was puffier in my spot than usual. Although it’s the same height as the other, given the frequency of my visits my spot has flattened a bit. There’s also a cotton thread on your tie.” He slumps down on the mutilated couch and throws the whoopie cushion at Nedzu.

“Impressive. Your analysis is getting better Midoriya.”

Izuku nods his head in acknowledgement and thanks.

“So where are the tests?”

“Actually Midoriya, I have a case for you. Apologies but we will have to reschedule the tests.”

“Only if I get to choose the next game we play.” Izuku grins mischievously and Nedzu slumps his shoulders in resignation as he nods and chugs the rest of his tea.

“Twister.”

“No.”

“You said I get to choose, Nedzu-sensei” Izuku teases the honourific.

“Will you call me Nedzu-san again?”

“I’ll call you what I want to call you. Tell me what the case is about.”

Nedzu pours himself another cup of tea and if the greenette didn’t know better he’d think the tea has vodka in it or some other alcohol.

“Let’s wait for Aizawa, shall we? He’s the one who asked for your help.” Nedzu comments casually.

Izuku blanches and his mind goes into overdrive. Aizawa asked for him? Personally? Really? He trusted the boy that much? Huh. Life’s crazy again.

The hobo looking man that Izuku has such mixed feelings about knocks on the door and the quirkless boy jumps slightly.

Nedzu gives him a weird look but eventually brushes it off and goes towards the door.

“What’s the password?” Nedzu calls out cheerily and Izuku snorts loudly.

“We are not doing this.” A deep, deadpan voice comes from the otherside of the door.

“Yes we are.”

“No we aren’t”

“I will fire you.”

“Alohom*ora.” Aizawa says in a voice that sounds like he wants to die.

“Ah yes. Welcome Aizawa!” Nedzu opens the door with a flourish.

“Who knew the principal of UA was such a Harry Potter fan?” Izuku comments.

They’d discussed this already of course in great detail. Nedzu had rambled on about animal abuse and he and Izuku had debated whether or not Hagrid was actually a good person to the animals.

Aizawa ignores the Harry Potter situation and opens up a binder with two pages in it and sets them out in front of Izuku.

“Do what you do best.” Aizawa pulls up a chair and leans forward, his hands clasped and his eyes observant.

“A vigilante huh?” The dark green haired boy studies the case and he feels a bead of sweat running down his head.

“Is that a problem?” Aizawa asks. He’s eyeing Izuku. Honestly, the short boy is his prime suspect.

“Yeah. I like vigilantes. I’m not helping you track one down.” Izuku turns his nose up at the case that he so desperately wants to analyse.

“What.” Aizawa grits out and Izuku notes the fact that he sounds extremely annoyed and suspicious.

“I don’t like heroes. Remember? EraserHead.” Izuku says smoothly in reply.

The referenced underground hero buries his head in his hands.

“They’re a kid.” The adult says to the child, clearly trying to get any sort of reaction out of him.

“So?” Izuku’s eyes are challenging now. They’re telling him to say the wrong thing. To be a daredevil.

Aizawa doesn’t take the bait.

Nedzu looks in between them and tells Aizawa to shoo.

The door slams behind him. He leaves the files.

“Lighter?” Izuku holds out a cheap blue lighter from a convenience store with an orange discount sticker still on it in the direction of the albino stoat.

“Yes please.” Nedzu groans in a rare display of whatever this is. He pulls out a cigarette and the younger opens a window and sits next to it, breathing in the fresh, summer air.

“For someone so smart, you have such an awfully dumb habit.” Izuku comments with absolutely no judgement (okay maybe just a little bit) lacing his tone.

“When I was experimented on they wanted to see if a more refined brain in an animal could develop an addiction. The answer is yes. Yes I can.” Nedzu sighs and looks at the poison stick in distaste.

“Huh.” Izuku says halfheartedly, making a point of facing away from the cigarette smoke.

“Since the vigilante situation with Aizawa is clearly not going to work out, would you like to take the tests?” Nedzu asks, putting out his cigarette and writing something down on his notepad.

The human genius nods and opens all the windows to get the smoke out. Nedzu thanks him with a slight (albeit a bit creepy given his anatomy) smile.

“Which one would you like to take first?” Nedzu lays out all the packets of written tests. The hero course one stares at him tauntingly, as if challenging him to do his best this time and become the hero he used to dream of. The hero he needs.

Izuku points to the general education packet and while Nedzu is preparing the test he looks around, analysing anything within sight to distract himself from the slight nervousness you always get before a test.

Unfortunately for the young boy, the first thing in sight is the binder with the two sheets of information on the vigilante. He’s curious, oh so curious about what they could’ve figured out.

It’s not like the police are the brightest in society. They couldn’t have figured it out yet…..Right? Izuku reasons to himself as he studies the case.

He can feel the UA principal’s watchful gaze as he oh so slowly prepares the test. He truly wants Izuku to figure it out. Although Nedzu would never admit it, the younger is leagues ahead of him in terms of analysis.

Two pieces of paper and the vigilante’s been active for five years. It’s almost pitiful how little the police force has on him. Truth be told, Izuku’s not going to tell anyone anything he analyzes or if he figures out the identity of said vigilante, Dust. He studies the first piece of paper.

Quirk: Unknown

Age: Estimated to be about 12-18

Address: Unknown

Gender: Unknown

Height: Approximately 145-180 cm

Weight: Unknown

Name: Unknown [Goes by Dust]

Appearance: Short, Wears Dark Clothing, Dark Hair/ Head.

Izuku scowls at the fact that the quirk is listed before anything else on the vigilante’s file as if it’s the most important thing about him.

He reads the second page of paper which details some reports from citizens saved and times EraserHead has run into him as well as his fighting technique.

EraserHead said he had a large head and spiky or unruly hair. He also said they seemed to be younger and weren’t trained very well in combat. They ran fast and he didn’t see the fight between the villains. This guy is good, he’s unseen, always in the shadows and disappears like dust. Probably doesn’t have a very flashy quirk I’m assuming. He’s reported to be short but it’s possible he’s tall and they just saw him from far away.

Izuku pauses his thinking and sits up straight with his hair on end.

Nedzu thinks he looks like an alarmed cat.

“I know who it is.” Izuku mumbles and Nedzu widens his eyes because how could Midoriya know who it is just from two pieces of paper unless…

The stoat sits down in his seat and places a pencil and the test in front of the tiny genius in front of him cautiously.

Unless he knows them personally.

Nedzu wishes Izuku wasn’t so good at evading and destroying cameras, as well as losing the people Nedzu has trailing him.

“I’m not going to ask who because it’s clear you won’t tell me. But Midoriya,” Nedzu narrows his eyes, “if you help Dust at all, you will be an accessory and that is illegal.” Izuku swallows and nods.

He looks at the test in front of him and all nervousness dissipates, he picks up a pencil and looks at Nedzu with an incredulous look on his face. The principal shrugs and Izuku laughs.

Oh, this is going to be so easy.

%

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%

Nedzu looks a bit concerned when the fourteen year old slams his pencil down with a triumphant grin on his face and places the Management course packet on top of his other finished tests.

Each packet was about ten pages long and 100 multiple choice with three essays. Hero, General Education, Support, and Management. All different tests entirely.

It had taken Izuku two hours to complete all of them.

Well, that’s a new record.

They’ve got about an hour and a half left until their session is over.

“If you would like t-” Nedzu starts.

“Yes. I’ll take your test.” Izuku says cheerfully.

“I’m assuming you’d like to know the highest score and how long it takes.” The stoat says, handing the dark green haired boy a mechanical pencil (For the last four tests he got wooden ones) and a large stack of papers.

“Yes please.” Izuku replies.

He gave me a mechanical pencil. That means the wooden pencil wouldn’t be sharp by the end or it would break or it wouldn’t last the whole thing.

He’s underestimating me.

“Highest score ever is a 80% and the shortest time ever is three sessions, each five hours, so fifteen hours in total with studying in between.” Nedzu says in a happy tone. He won’t mention the fact that the person who achieved those scores had an intelligence quirk.

“Ok.” The teenager shrugs and opens up the exam, reading the first question.

He looks Nedzu straight in the eyes,

And laughs.

%

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%

“Problem child, tell me why Nedzu came into the teacher’s lounge and said that he wished he could drink alcohol.” Aizawa says with a bit of humour in his voice.

“His fifteen hour test isn’t that hard.” Izuku shrugs and Aizawa widens his eyes because he had to take that test and he was allowed to literally look up the answers but still failed.

“What?”

“I’m halfway through and although it’s challenging I’m very happy this test isn’t super easy like all the other ones. I was getting bored.”

“Oh. Okay.” Aizawa stays silent and just keeps walking.

All of a sudden his hairs raise on end and he turns around just in time to see the villain, Muscular standing behind him, grinning.

“Finally, I was getting restless.” He grins and lunges at the hero.

Aizawa erases his quirk just in time but gets knocked to the pavement, making him close his eyes briefly.

Muscular looms over him, licking his lips and grinning. He says something about blood and tries to punch Eraerhead but something stops him?

The black haired man sits up, clutching his bleeding head as he watches the scene in front of him in disbelief.

“Honestly Masakyura. I thought you knew better.” Izuku is shaking his head at the man who slinks back like a toddler getting scolded.

“You, uh. Uhm. I- You see-” The villain tries to defend himself but stumbles over his words, not getting out an adequate explanation.

“I don’t have to hurt you, Masakyura. You owe me enough favours for me to not even need to use the pocket knife in my back pocket. So, because you’ve broken the rules. Shall I use one of my favours?” Izuku fishes out a notebook from thin air and opens it to a page with Muscular’s name on it as well as all the favours he owes him and what they’re for.

“I- Uh-” Aizawa is baffled to see the villain not attacking Izuku, but backing away from him in fear.

“I’LL KILL YOU!” He says in a sudden fit of rage and blood thirst.

Aizawa erases his quirk but Izuku doesn’t even blink an eye.

In fact, the child goes up towards the previously snarling villain, who is now growing paler with every step he takes towards him, and whispers in his ear.

“Now, now, you wouldn’t want me to tell Shigaraki about this, huh? Or even better, Yachi?” Izuku purrs into his ear quietly. Aizawa would give an arm and a leg to know what the boy said to make the villain so obedient and willing to follow them to the police station but it’s clear that won’t be happening.

The walk to the police station is silent but they’re both thinking back to when Aizawa and Izuku first met and this whole sh*tshow started.

Tsukauchi is walking out the door, thankful to finally be out and go home when he sees the child.

sh*t.

“Tsukauchi! It’s been so long.” Izuku says in a cheerful voice that contrasts his blank, dead face, just to show that he can.

“....Come in.” The detective says in a tired voice as he turns around to take off his coat because it’s clearly going to be a long night.

Izuku still remembers where all the cameras are and later, Tsukauchi will be baffled when the security footage has no trace of the boy recorded.

He walks up to the back door.

“I’ll get i-” The detective starts, as he walks to the door.

“68349.”

“Excuse me?”

“That’s the code. Right?” Izuku asks innocently.

“What the f*ck.”

“I’ll take that as a yes.” The teen enters in the code and strolls into the back rooms like he owns the place.

Tsukauchi prepares himself for another exhausting interview with the boy.

The interrogation room is lit up by a fluorescent light that hurts Izuku’s eyes.

He focuses on the light rather than the fact that Aizawa is staring at him with worried, but curious eyes.

Tsukauchi takes a seat in front of them.

“What’s your name?”

“Izuku Midoriya.” The boy answers and Tsukauchi is briefly surprised that the boy told him his name as his quirk registers it as true.

“What’s your quirk?”

“I can shoot pencils from my eyes.” Izuku deadpans and for a moment, Aizawa believes him. Not yet knowing the boy is quirkless.

Tsukauchi glares at the boy, bags under his eyes somehow growing a bit darker as his quirk registers the lie.

“That’s a lie. Please, Midoriya let’s make this as quick as possible.”

“I don’t see why my quirk is important in this situation. The villain wasn’t after me for my quirk.” The boy objects truthfully.

“Fine. EraserHead here tells me you knew the villain’s name. How?” Tsukauchi moves on, knowing a lost battle when he sees one.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, Tsukauchi.” Izuku lies.

“That’s a lie.”

“Even if it was a lie, how would you prove that? After all I’m just an innocent teenager. The underground hero EraserHead was with me when I was attacked. Isn’t it more believable for me to say EraserHead apprehended the villain rather than you two claiming somehow a little kid knew a powerful villain’s name? Furthermore, don’t you think it’s a bit humiliating for a pro hero and the police force to admit they couldn’t capture Muscular but a little kid could without even using violence? Also, you should replace your security cameras. They are suddenly malfunctioning and I’ve heard they’re expensive.” Izuku rambles on, completely picking apart the situation without truly answering the question.

The detective bangs his head on the table before him and Aizawa tries to look annoyed but a bit of amusem*nt is detectable in his eyes.

It’s going to be a long, long night.

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%

Izuku watches in amusem*nt as Tsukauchi stumbles out of the interrogation room muttering about coffee.

Aizawa glares at the smirking boy and opens his mouth.

“You don’t have to be so mean to him you know. He’s just trying to do his job.”

“I know.” Izuku smiles and stands up from his chair, the metal screeching against the tile. He winces at the noise.

“Let’s go.” The underground hero sighs and follows the teen who walks through the station with purpose and pushes open the door with a large sigh and heavy breathing.

Oh. He didn’t notice. Izuku’s been suffering. Aizawa forgot about the adult situation.

“Breathe, just breathe. It’ll be okay.” He placates the boy, and puts a hand on his shoulder. Izuku flinches away violently and looks at the pro hero with fear in his eyes.

Aizawa wants to cry because it’s so easy to forget this is a child. A terrifyingly smart child, yes, but a still a child.

“You can trust me Midoriya. I promise I won’t hurt you.” He says in a soothing voice while the boy walks towards his house, breathing heavily.

“How do I know that you’re not lying?” Izuku says, his voice is low and his defense is weak. His emotions leak through his mask.

“You just trust I won’t. I’m never going to leave you and I’m never going to hurt you. Please. Trust me.” Aizawa is begging now. He’s so tired and the instinct to protect this boy is stronger than it’s ever been. He’s seen him joking around with Nedzu, seen him analyse dangerous villains, seen him enthusiastically talk about music, seen him cry and latch onto Aizawa because he’s just so scared.

Aizawa realises that he’s grown attached. He cares about the boy as if he were his own son.

So it only breaks his heart more when Izuku quietly speaks up.

“Someday you are going to forget about me. And you won’t even realise it.”

It chills Aizawa to the core.

Izuku contrasts this statement by giving Aizawa a hug. By crying, and letting Aizawa walk him to his house for the first time since they met. It’s clear he doesn’t want Aizawa to ever forget him. It’s clear he wants to trust Aizawa.

But it’s clear that he can’t.

“This is it?” Aizawa stares at the completely normal looking home and wonders how such an anomaly could come from such an average place.

The adult knocks on the front door and he’s a bit confused when Izuku grips his hand in something akin to fear.

He hears someone stomping towards the door, throwing it open with rage evident on their face.

A woman with green hair and eyes that any normal person would think looks kind and happy. But Aizawa can see what Izuku sees. An adult. An adult who should be feared.

“Where the f*ck were you?” She hisses. It seems like a statement from a worried mother. Izuku hears the threat. Hears the anger and exhaustion underneath it. A promise.

Aizawa hears it too. He sees her hand gripping the boy’s wrist tightly and how he winces when she touches him, how she spat in his face and Izuku looked like he was going to pass out from panic.

The greenette looked like a caged animal in that moment. His mother gripping his wrist, fingernails digging into his skin, drops of blood rising up, sweat running down his temple, eyes looking everywhere but her, stuttering and scared.

A half second later she finally sees Aizawa and he curls his lip in disgust at how her demeanor shifts. She grabs Izuku’s hair and pulls him hard into the doorframe, making the boy fall and run away. Aizawa knows Izuku is going to hide. He’s going to curl up in a dark place and hope this woman never finds him.

“Thank you for bringing my son home!” The pro hero wants to growl at the word ‘home’ because Izuku has never said that word to him, this is clearly not a safe place that anyone would claim to be a home.

“Of course.” Aizawa wants to march in and take Izuku far far far away but this is a delicate situation. He knows it. The black haired man looks at the ground and sees tears speckled on the concrete.

He spots something tan, like paint smeared on the floor behind her too. It looks like foundation.

If looks could kill Inko Midoriya would be dead.

“Actually could I talk to Midoriya for a second?” Aizawa asks politely.

“It’s past his bedtime and very late, I’m sure he’s tired.” Inko says, giving an excuse expertly. Something she’s done millions of times.

“Please. It’s important.” The erasure hero flashes a smile at her and she gives him a stiff, extremely fake one back. She yells for Izuku and Aizawa winces because it’s so loud and angry and she could’ve just walked to get him instead.

Izuku scuffles towards the door and he looks more helpless than Aizawa has ever seen him.

Shouta realises now why Izuku never let him come to his house.

The boy refuses to look him in the eye. His own are glued to the floor and tears are plopping one by one onto the ground.

“Don’t be rude, Izuku. Look the nice man in the eyes.” She grabs his arm again and Aizawa glares at her because there’s no need to grab him. Izuku immediately shivers and flinches hard, looking up like she demanded.

Shouta Aizawa wishes for the first time since he graduated UA highschool that he wasn’t a hero. He wishes he could punch this woman standing behind Izuku as if she owned him and not get his license revoked because Izuku.

Izuku has burns covering his face and arms. And the man is sure that not all of the foundation has rubbed off and there are more that he can’t see.

The burns are fresh and untreated and possibly infected. They’re splattered over the right side of his face, making it clear that this was not self inflicted and someone else burned him. SOmeone else threw something at him. Someone named Inko Midoriya.

“Yes, Aizawa-san?” Izuku asks in a sad, dead voice that makes Aizawa want to cringe because finally he has an honourific but this is not how he wanted to get it.

“Izuku. Is your mother hurting you?” He blurts out. sh*t. This is not how he wanted to deal with the situation.

“Excuse me!” Inko chrieks indignantly and Aizawa holds up his hero license in his face to make her shut up. She’s still yelling but the hero blocks it out. All of his attention is on Izuku.

“...She’s never hit me.” Izuku mutters out. And god, he looks so young and scared right now. Another reminder that this is a child.

“That’s not what I asked. Is she hurting you, physically or mentally?” The kid doesn’t answer this time. Aizawa spots Inko holding his wrist again. He swats it away with his capture weapon and asks a different question.

“Izuku, are you safe at home?” The long haired man uses the child’s first name to get through that he wants nothing to do with the other Midoriya.

“Izuku, do you feel safe at home?” He tries again and Izuku is looking up at him with watery eyes and disbelief.

Izuku is in pre school, he’s excelling in school,reading at the level of a seven year old despite being four and although he’s suspected to be quirkless his teacher doesn’t actively pick on him. She’s kind to him and later Izuku will cry quietly late at night when she decides to pursue a new career halfway through the school year.

And like all four year olds Izuku is painfully honest.

She greets him as he walks in that morning, his eyes have slight bags under them. (This is before Inko trained him)

“Good morning Midoriya! Wow, you look tired! What happened last night?” SHe asks in an animated voice expecting to say he drank soda too late or was reading for too long.

“My mommy was yelling at my dad last night and it was really loud. She threw knives at him and I was really really scared and couldn’t sleep. Nobody kissed me goodnight either.” He pouts as he tells the tale to Mrs. Azumane, not knowing that this is not in fact, normal.

He looks at her face and watches. She visibly pales and her expression morphs into something akin to horror and fear. She holds his shoulders and looks him straight in the eyes.

“Midoriya, is this true?” She asks in such a serious voice with such an oddly terrified look on her face that he just knows that apparently, what happened last night is not normal.

And for the first time in his young life, Izuku lies.

Izuku thinks of his pre school teacher. He thinks of his second grade teacher who had asked him the same thing. But he didn’t trust her enough to say anything so she’d left it alone when he said he was fine. The greenette looks up at the UA teacher who is looking at him with an expression not too different from that of his pre school teacher’s, except there’s something different there. Something that wasn’t in Mrs. Azumane’s face that he sees now in Aizawa’s.

Determination.

And to himself, Izuku wonders to himself quietly.

Does he trust Aizawa enough?

“Izuku.” Inko says warningly. Her eyes are narrow and watchful. Hisashi walks up and tries to demand Aizawa leave but Aizawa tells him he’s in no position to make demands.

They all look at Izuku, who shrinks under their gaze.

They all look at the child who hasn’t been helped in fourteen years. Who has watched and experienced the worst things happen. Things that no child should ever see.

“No,” Izuku looks up at Aizawa hopefully, eyes twitching back to look at his mother in pure fear, “I don’t.”

“Then let’s go give Tsukauchi a visit.”

“What? You don’t think I’m lying?” Izuku asks, eyes wide in disbelief.

“I trust you.” He smiles at the boy who is clutching onto his arm, leaning as far away as he can from the wrath of Inko.

And at that moment, Izuku Midoriya, looking up at the adult before him, eyes blown wide, sparkling with wonder, knows that he trusts Shouta Aizawa.

Chapter 7

Chapter Text

“This is ridiculous. He’s clearly lying. Sorry about him.” Inko manages a forced smile at the pro hero who jerks Izuku away from her.

“Absolutely not.” He grits out.

“I would never hurt my baby, how dare you!? How dare you even assume that!” She blubbers out, tears suddenly falling down her face. Aizawa stares at her for a second, shocked by the complete change in character.

Izuku tenses in anger. She’s never done anything for him. Those tears. He hates those tears. They’re so f*cking fake. He wants to scream and yell and be angry for once. Why isn’t he allowed to be angry?

He remembers how she would scream at him to ‘clean clean clean’ because she was having company over and he forgot to fold her laundry. In his mind Izuku wanted to ask what she’d done. She’d been upstairs for the past two hours on her computer, or sleeping while he’d cleaned.

He remembers how she’d drawled on and on about how she did everything in this house. Izuku had watched her. All she did was make her own bed. Wipe the kitchen counter with a wet paper towel, declaring the kitchen was a mess as she wet it, as if wiping the counter with warm water was going to clean it up despite Izuku himself having cleaned all of Hisashi’s breakfast dishes, Izuku’s own singular dish, Inko’s dinner from the night before, the sink, the oven, organizing the pantry and cooking supplies, and sweeping the floor but for some reason it wasn’t clean.

All Inko had done was wipe a counter, make her own bed, and walk around yelling about how she did so much how she did everything and screaming at Izuku because he hadn’t done one thing to prepare for her friends to come over.

And back then Izuku wanted to scream too. He wanted to cry and get angry but for some reason he was never allowed to be angry. Inko was though. Inko was always angry. Why couldn’t he be?

Izuku wished with his entire being he could ask ‘Is this what you imagined when you wanted children? Is this the life that you wanted? To yell and be angry all the time?’ but no. He couldn’t.

Because Izuku isn’t allowed to get angry.

Aizawa winces at her blubbering because it’s just oh so fake.

And he knows he should make Izuku get his stuff from his room but the fourteen year old clearly wants nothing to do with this woman or this house.

Inko is grabbing at his sleeve and begging him to give her baby back but the erasure hero just wrinkles his nose in disgust and pulls out his phone.

He feels a bit smug when horror bleeds onto her face when he says,

“Tsukauchi? We have a situation here.”

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Naomasa is a good man. He does his taxes on time, he doesn’t break the law, he eats healthy, he helps old men and women cross the street. He’s a good guy.

So why?

Izuku could ask the same thing. He’s been so good. All his life he’s been good.

So why?

The dark haired boy waits outside of the interrogation room where Tsukauchi is talking to Aizawa.

He’s got his earbuds firmly in place inside his ears and his music loud so he can’t hear anyone talking to him.

His favourite song plays and normally he would happily hum along to the tune but the lyrics stand out and punch him in the gut because no he is not going to cry. Not now.

The song Karma- AJR plays and he wants to scream because that song he’d told Aizawa about was a cry for help. Had he even listened to it? Is trusting him a mistake?

Aizawa stares Tsukauchi straight in the eyes and pulls out his phone.

“Yesterday. Midoriya was talking to me about music and he casually mentioned a song called Karma by the band AJR.” Aizawa says to the detective.

“Yes?” He prompts.

“It’s in English, however I want you to read the translation.” The pro hero pulls up the lyrics to the song solemnly.

Tsukauchi swallows nervously. He’s not dumb. He took a course in psychology to help him when he did interrogations.

We have favourite songs due to their emotional impact or how much we relate to them.

“Music is one of the only things Midoriya will talk about without a filter. You’ve spoken to him. Do you really think you’re going to get a straight answer from him? Especially in a topic as sensitive as this?” Aizawa reasons as the detective reads the lyrics of the song which just breaks his heart because he, like nearly everyone else who’s ever met Midoriya Izuku, forgot that this is a child.

“Call Nedzu in, we’re going to have a conversation about music and I need him here to help study Midoriya’s body language, cryptic answers, etc.” Tsukauchi orders the UA teacher who nods and goes to text the principal. The interrogation will most likely be a cross between a mental health checkup and and actual interrogation.

“While we wait for Nedzu, shall I explain what happened and why I called you?” Aizawa asks, putting his phone back into his pocket.

“Please do.” Tsukauchi makes sure the camera is recording and listens to Aizawa’s version of Izuku’s story.

Izuku keeps listening to his playlist, the songs are almost all in other languages.

It’s not like he doesn’t understand them though. What do you think he does in his spare time?

The song keeps playing and Izuku doesn’t really know how to feel about it. He wants it to stop but he doesn’t at the same time because he so rarely feels emotions and the music lets him feel for once. He’s not numb when he listens to it, he’s alive.

But, this time it’s not a good emotion.

“Not right now, not right now.” He whispers to himself. This can’t be happening. He won’t have a flashback. Not right now.

Per usual though, his brain doesn’t listen. The lyrics of the song blast in the background and Izuku remembers the things he never wants to remember.

Inko holds Izuku and he wonders how he used to think her arms were warm. He can’t find it in himself to care. He just cries and cries. She shushes him and tells him she understands. The nine year old just told her that he feels sad. So so so sad. How he’s so tired and unmotivated and numb. She doesn’t tell him it’s depression. She doesn’t tell him there’s medication to help. She doesn’t tell him that therapy will help. She just tells him to ignore it. Everyone gets sad sometimes. Izuku knows this is different but he’ll do anything to stop feeling like this so he does what she tells him to.

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Izuku is eleven and they’re in the car. He’s crying again because she asked him why she got a call from his math teacher saying his grade was a B and he’s not turning in assignments. He tells her about how he wants to die. He tells her he’s suicidal and it’s all he can think about and it uses all of his might to not do it because it scares him. Inko doesn’t hug him or comfort him, she asks what it has to do with his grades and yells at him for lying.

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A little girl is sitting with him on the swings. She’s quirkless too. They talk. Her name is Yachi. Her dad is a villain. Izuku listens when she tells him how her mom yells at her sometimes when she’s bad and nobody sits near her because she’s the daughter of Muscular. He asks if anyone ever hurts her. She tells him no. Izuku starts to tell her. He really tries to tell her the truth. But he lies. He makes it seem like it’s not a big deal. He tells her sometimes his mother yells at him and his dad doesn’t help. He doesn’t tell her about Kacchan, doesn’t tell her about how Inko grabs him or throws knives at Hisashi, doesn’t tell her about the times Inko throws him out of the car or threatens to kill him. Because it makes him feel ashamed for some reason. It must be his fault. Even talking about it makes him sick to the stomach.

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Izuku sits in the shower, his eyes blank as he stares at the blade he foraged from a pencil sharpener. He wants to feel he needs to feel something. Anything. Please. Water rushes over his skin numbly. Nothing. He feels nothing. He needs to feel something. Anything at all.

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The seven year old is thinking about Mommy. He thinks too hard. Suddenly it’s hard to breathe and he feels like throwing up and there’s a pit of fear and disgust that sits heavy in his stomach. He raises his hand but the teacher is busy. He tells the boy sitting next to him that he has to go to the bathroom. Tears are pooling in his eyes. The boy is shocked and nods because Deku doesn’t even cry when Bakugou burns his face. Izuku sprints to the bathroom and throws up in the toilet. He spits out the remaining vomit in his mouth and flushes. Tears are streaming freely down his face. Suddenly the mirror is mocking him and he looks so ugly and useless and nobody would miss him if he died. Nobody actually likes him. They’re just pretending. And wouldn’t it be so much easier to die than live at this point?
He doesn’t realise he’s clogged the drain with a large wad of paper towels until his face is submerged in the water and his eyes are open, looking around wildly. He needs to do it, finish the job. But the idea of killing himself makes himself feel sick again and he just can’t do it. Someone walks in and he pulls his head out of the water quickly. He gives the excuse that he’s just tired and needs to wake up. It’s not the last time Izuku tries to kill himself at school.

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When the quirkless boy snaps out of it he’s not crying. Not this time. Aizawa is holding both of his shoulders and looking him straight in the eyes, a worried expression on his face. There’s a circle of police officers a polite distance away from him but he still feels crowded and embarrassed because he’s so f*cking weak. He really did that right here. Right now.

“Problem child, is it okay that I’m touching you?” Aizawa asks softly, referencing to his hands on Izuku’s shoulders.

He nods once and glances at Tsukauchi who is pale.

The detective wonders how he missed all these signs when he’s met the kid twice already. He’s a police officer for f*cks safe. He’s supposed to arrest the bad people.

Aizawa feels just that much worse. He must’ve walked home with Izuku more than a thousand times. Talked with him a thousand times. He’d even vowed to himself to protect the kid. And right now all he wants to do is give him a hug but it’s not the time nor place.

“Oh my.” A high pitched voice says, breaking the tension in the room. Izuku keeps his face blank, the mask back in place. Nedzu parts the sea of police officers and snaps his fingers. They all disperse.

“How did you get in he-” Tsukauchi starts, because they really need to change the password and this is one of the smartest people on Earth.

“Midoriya? Are you okay with us asking you a few questions about your mother?” Nedzu asks and Izuku is glad he’s here. Because yes, he’s vulnerable right now, but he’s not a fragile child. He wants to be treated like someone his age. He’s a f*cking genius for god’s sake!

However, the boy does slip his hand into Aizawa’s and when the adult looks down at him in surprise he tenses nervously as if he’s done something wrong or gone too far or made a mistake. But Aizawa just squeezes his hand reassuringly.

Nedzu nods his head, not even sparing a glance at the pair’s clasped hands, btu there is a hint of a smile on his face as he walks towards the interrogation room.

They enter the interrogation room and Izuku squints a bit at the bright fluorescent lights like he did last time he was in here.

Aizawa’s brain is going a mile an hour because he’s not about to let go of this child’s hand unless Izuku lets go first however he does need to sit down in the chair on the other side of the table.

Izuku slips his hand out from Aizawa’s and quietly mutters a question, looking at him with hopeful eyes, and then the ground.

“Hm? What was that Midoriya?” Aizawa asks the boy who is slowly making his way to his metal chair at the end of the table.

“Can you sit with me?” The little genius asks in a small voice, prepared for rejection, but hopeful and shaky and scared.

The underground hero looks at Tsukauchi and Nedzu who are already sitting in their seats, the former looking perplexed and the latter looking quite pleased with himself. The detective nods hesitantly. And the long haired man sighs with relief.

He pulls up a chair beside Izuku and crosses his arms and legs to appear aloof despite absolutely dreading this interrogation.

If the erasure hero notices the fourteen year old shifting his seat slightly closer to him he doesn’t say anything.

Tsukauchi opens a file and looks straight at the boy, a bit put off by the clear masking of his expressions after looking so vulnerable.

“Let’s get started, shall we?” Nedzu pipes up cheerfully, he crosses his paws and leans forward, studying Izuku who just remains still, expressionless, and (a new development) calm.

“Is your name Midoriya Izuku?” The human lie detector starts off. The plan is to ask some normal straightforward questions and see if he answers them or skates around them like usual. If he’s being difficult they’ll take Aizawa’s advice.

“Yes.”

His quirks rings like a bell, the word Truth in front of his eyes.

“Is Midoriya Inko abusing you?” He gets straight to the point.

Nedzu is surprised by Izuku yet again when there is no lapse in the boy’s emotionless expression.

“What do you mean by that?”

“Is Midoriya Inko hurting you physically or mentally?” Tsukauchi elaborates.

Izuku clamps his mouth shut into a thin line and Aizawa looks at the right side of the boy’s face. Tsukauchi wants to sigh frustratedly but he knows this is sensitive and not so much Izuku being a little sh*t rather than not wanting to talk about it.

The foundation covering the burns is partially wiped off.

Nedzu notices freckles on the boy’s cheeks and it clicks. That’s why it felt so off the other day!

“Midoriya, how did you get that burn?” Aizawa asks. He has an idea of how but he needs to hear it directly.

“Coffee.” Izuku mumbles out. Tsukauchi confirms it’s true.

“How did the coffee end up burning you?” Tsukauchi asks, eyeing the burns that show only slightly due to the makeup covering them.

Izuku shakes his head.

The underground hero sighs and the boy next to him stiffens as if he knows he’s done something wrong and is waiting to get yelled at and punished.

“Problem child, can you please talk to us?” Aizawa tries in a pleading voice.

Izuku gives him a hard stare and looks a bit unsure. He glances over at Tsukauchi and all of a sudden it clicks.

Midoriya doesn’t trust adults.

Great. One question solved, now how the f*ck are they going to do the interview if Izuku literally only trusts Aizawa and Nedzu?

“Tsukauchi’s not going to hurt you Midoriya. You can trust him.” Nedzu speaks up, and Shouta knows he’s come to the same conclusion.

Izuku shakes his head, mouth sealed.

Aizawa knows better than to force or trick the kid into talking because that would make him lose trust in both him and Nedzu.

Instead they change course and have a casual conversation about music. Midoriya goes on small tangents here and there about his favourite bands and songs and genres of music, and grows slowly more comfortable.

Tsukauchi contributes to the conversation they’re having about jazz and Izuku goes silent. They continue the conversation in hopes of keeping the energy of the room comfortable, but as the minutes go on and Izuku stays silent, tension beings to return.

Izuku stays silent.

He’s looking at his lap and fiddling with his fingers.

Almost as if he’s contemplating something.

The boy suddenly lets out a small sigh and looks up, his face empty and carefully blank.

There’s a lull in the conversation to give Izuku the opportunity to bring up a new topic.

He takes it.

“I don’t wanna go back.” He whispers. Tsukauchi perks up at the boy’s words. His quirk registering truth.

“Why?” Aizawa asks the boy softly.

“I’m scared.” He admits. Tsukauchi registers the truth and writes it down.

“What are you scared of?” Nedzu asks, his voice remains even but it’s clear he’s trying not to show emotion.

“I’m scared of Mommy.” Izuku flinches when the word comes out because he hates how helpless and childish it sounds when he says it. “I’m scared of her.”

“What scares you about her?” Aizawa asks, Tsukauchi stays as quiet as he can not wanting to mess up the confession.

“She yells really bad. And it scares me. And,” Izuku rolls up his sleeve. “Sometimes she grabs my arms sometimes when she’s really mad and makes me bleed and it hurts and scars.” He manages to choke out. He hates the words, they feel gross and heavy on his tongue. He feels doubt deep inside of him. What if they don’t believe him? What if they don’t do anything? What if they leave me all alone again.

“What about your dad?” Nedzu prompts.

“He doesn’t do anything,” Tsukauchi registers a lie and Aizawa sees Izuku spare a glance at a circular scar that looks like someone put a cigarette out on his skin. “He doesn’t stop her though, he says it’s my fault. It probably is my fault though.” Izuku hangs his head in shame and his eyes start to water.

The boy turns to the side and rests his forehead against Aizawa’s upper arm. A few seconds later when he hears quiet sobs, Tsukauchi stops the recorder and politely leaves the room.

“Midoriya?” Aizawa speaks up. Izuku keeps sobbing quietly.

“Why don’t we finish this another time?” He continues, waiting for a sign of acknowledgement from the boy, but he gets none.

“Midoriya, would you like to go to UA for a bit?” Nedzu asks. The boy goes quiet for a second then nods. He stands up and immediately wipes his tears despite the fact that they keep slipping out. He wipes his nose once and looks up at Aizawa who is staring at the boy in shock.

He doesn’t even look like he’s been crying. His face isn’t flushed or puffy, or anything.

In fact his face is blank again. He’s walking alone and Aizawa feels a bit sad that the boy hadn’t needed his hand this time.

They walk out of the interrogation room and the first thing Izuku sees is his mother’s purse.

He looks up slightly and there his mother is. Her face angry and distraught.

Izuku knows she’s not distraught about losing him though. He’d like to think she is, maybe realise how much he does around the house and how she might still forgive him and it’ll all work out. Maybe she won’t yell at him and they’ll forget about this.

But there’s still a little bit of him that longs to go with Aizawa, where it’s comfortable and safe. Aizawa, the adult who he can trust.

But Inko is his mother. He still wants her to love him. He still wants to hug her and feel that warmth he used to feel. He wants to believe she’ll get better. She’ll stop yelling and hurting him.

Maybe this was a mistake. He shouldn’t have said that about her. The guilt overwhelms him. He went too far. She doesn’t deserve this. What if they put her in jail? He doesn’t want her to go to jail. It’s not like she ever hit him? She’s never hit him so it’s not abuse. He walks towards her, a bit of hope in his eyes. Maybe they can all just forget about th-

She slaps him.

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Izuku sits in Recovery Girl’s office with an ice pack on his cheek and an equally cold look on his face.

“You are not kissing me.” He says bluntly.

“You have infected, fresh burns on your face. I am going to heal you and to heal you I need to kiss you.” She explains for the fiftieth time.

If this was happening a year ago, Izuku would be obsessing over her quirk but he’s been here at UA for years now and he knows exactly how her quirk works.

“No.”

“Yes.”

“No.”

“I will call Aizawa.” She challenges, anger flashing briefly in her eyes.

“Do it. I dare you.” He leans forward and she takes the opportunity, using her syringe cane to hook his neck and bring him closer before kissing his cheek and arm.

Izuku immediately jumps back and the youthful hero is surprised he isn’t passed out considering how late it is and how severe the burns were. If only he’d come earlier. Then she would’ve been able to heal him without the scarring.

“Go on now.” She says shooing him out of her office. Izuku stumbles out gracefully into the hallway.

“Rude.” He mumbles out, walking up the stairs while yawning. He opens the door to Nedzu’s office and sees the school counselor, Hound Dog.

“Ah, Midoriya! Welcome, come mee-” Nedzu starts.

“No.” Izuku interrupts and sits in his spot, staring down the pro hero.

“Hello Midoriya, I’m Hound Do-” Izuku interrupts again.

“Hound God, Ryo Inui, Guidance Counselor of UA, Quirk: Dog, increased sense of smell to an impressive extent, increased reflexes and strength, 32 years old. Based on your appearance right now, you just got back from patrol, you have two cats, ironic much? One is a ginger and the other is calico. You adopted them two weeks ago. You have four sisters, and this might be a reach but your roommate is a college student. Isn’t that right?”

Ryo Inui stares at Izuku in shock. Nedzu looks a bit impressed with the amount of information Izuku gave the man.

“Midoriya, we’d like you to receive therapy from Hound Dog.” Nedzu says, not very put off by the thorough analysis of his employee.

“No.”

“If you refuse we will simply have to pull you out of class to receive therapy rather than after school.” Nedzu says with a grin on his face.

“Ok.” Izuku shrugs and turns to the pro hero. “Good luck with that.” He smiles deviously and Hound Dog shivers. Nedzu gives him a sympathetic look and he begins to contemplate his life choices.

“Well. I bid you adieu.” Izuku gives the two a dramatic bow and slams the door.

He jumps down the stairs, skipping all twenty five, and aiming to land, right in front of Aizawa, who wraps his capture weapon around him mid-air. Izuku gives him a sh*t eating grin.

“Problem child.”

“Aizawa.”

The pro hero puts him down and just looks at him for a second. Izuku looks right back at him.

“So I’m staying with you tonight?” Izuku pipes up. Aizawa’s eyes widen a bit because how the f*ck did he know, but go right back to his typical apathetic glare.

“....Yes.” He sighs out, unscrewing the lid of his eye drops.

“How long am I actually staying with you?” The greenette narrows his eyes because clearly there is something more going on here.

“At least until we try your parents.”Aizawa blinks his eyes and pockets the eye drops. Izuku nods.

“Okay.” The fourteen year old says, suddenly going quiet. A sure sign that he’s thinking hard about something.

“Spit it out.” The hero sighs as he starts the short walk to his apartment.

“Am I going to be put in foster care?” Aizawa pauses in his tracks and looks down at Izuku, grabbing his shoulders and looking into his eyes. They’re carefully blank but Aizawa heard the wavering in his voice.

“Not if I can help it.” He says, and he means it. It’s a promise. To himself or Izuku? He’s not quite sure.

Green eyes study his own and Izuku says nothing more. He just walks.

It’s the shock. Aizawa reasons to himself. There’s no other reason Izuku would be so quiet.

Right?

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“‘Zuku-chan! You’re here!” Toga yells happily as she pries open the door. Her face goes from a bright smile to a serious frown when she sees the boy.

“Toga-chan. I can’t stay for too long.” Izuku says tiredly. He’s never slept well in new places. Last night was a bit uncomfortable. Sure, he trusts Aizawa and relies on him sometime, but it’s not as if he’s his dad or something. It just feels like living with him is a bit too much and it’s a bit too early.

‘Whatttt, whyyyy?” She whines, latching onto his leg, looking a bit ridiculous considering she’s only an inch shorter than the boy.

“Long story short, I’m living with a hero now.” He sighs, limping over to the bar where Kurogiri is already making him a shirley temple.

“A hero-hero or a ‘hero’?” She asks, using quotation marks with her hands.

“A hero-hero. He’s really nice but I’m just not super comfortable living with him.” Izuku sighs as she unlatches from his leg and instead hugs him from behind.

“You know. You’re probably the first person I’ve ever met who doesn’t look pretty in red.” Toga comments, changing the subject.

“Ewww! Leave your blood fetish out of this!” The greenette laughs, pushing her off. She giggles then pouts, crossing her arms.

“It’s not a fetish!” She screeches. Dabi walks in yawning, wearing pajamas and looks at her drearily.

“Yeah, Izuku, it’s not a fetish,” He rubs at his eyes and grabs a mug, pouring coffee into it.

“Thank you!” Toga says in a triumphant voice.

“Ah ah, I wasn’t done. It’s not a fetish, it’s a kink you uncultured swine.” He snickers into his coffee and retreats to his room, groaning about how it’s ‘too early for this sh*t’ despite the fact that it’s nearly two in the afternoon.

“Hey!” She protests, throwing a knife at him. He catches it though and throws it back. THe blonde scowls in the direction the fire user left in.

“Hello Izuku.” Tomura greets, sitting at the bar where a hot cup of coffee is waiting for him, courtesy of Kurogiri.

“Hello Tomura.” Izuku greets back. Happy to be on first name basis with all of them except the tv dude. It wasn’t that much of a big deal considering that they’re not really adults.

“Where’s Twice?” The vice leader of the ‘villains’ asks.

“He’s arguing with himself outside. Don’t bother, it’s a mess.” Izuku speaks up.

“What’s this about you living with a hero, Mid- Izuku-san?” Kurogiri asks, not quite used to the familiar name.

“Don’ wanna talk ‘bout it.” He mumbles as he eats the cherry from his glass.

Tomura looks at him weirdly and looks like he wants to say something but Toga butts in holding a box.

“‘Zuku-chan do this puzzle with me! Tomura won’t let us leave ‘cus there’s a ‘hero’ patrolling this area lately.” She pouts and looks up at him with puppy eyes.

“Okay, Tomura you wanna help?” The greenette asks. The elder nods and uses three fingers to hand the younger a roll of washi tape.

Izuku carefully wraps tape around his pinky and pointer finger so he doesn't accidentally disintegrate a puzzle piece.

“Feel okay?” He asks after tearing off the piece.

“Yep.” Tomura answers, flexing his fingers. He doesn’t know why but it feels a bit intimate when Izuku does that. It’s not as if he couldn’t do it himself. He just likes to think Izuku enjoys doing it.

“Come onnn!” Toga whines, pulling Izuku towards the puzzle that’s dumped out on the ground.

“I literally told you I only have a little time today! This is a five thousand piece puzzle!” Izuku groans out.

“C’mon ‘Zuku-chan, it’s no fun if you finish it in five minutes!” She protests and the freckled boy knows she’s right. He’s probably got about an hour. And not to brag, but he’s pretty good at puzzles.

“Okay, okay!” Izuku laughs out as he starts building the border of the puzzle with ease. Completing it in less time than it takes for Tomura or Toga to connect at least two pieces.

When they’re about halfway through, Dabi emerges from his room and sits down to help but ends up getting frustrated and shoving pieces that clearly don’t fit into the wrong spots.

“sh*tty f*cking puzzle!” He grunts out as he tries to find a piece with a pink corner and blue stripes.

“Don’t disintegrate the box, Tomura, we need that as a reference!” Izuku screams out.

“Everyone f*ck up Izuku’s side, he’s doing it too quickly and it’s pissing me off.” Dabi scowls at the smooth, perfect half of the puzzle Izuku is finished with.

“I don’t like this piece it’s not cute.” Toga comments, deciding to fix the problem by stabbing the innocent puzzle piece with her knife.

“This is just a side quest. It’s okay if an NPC messes it up.” Tomura consoles the younger who is mourning over his side of the puzzle that is now reduced to a pile of pieces.

“Kurogiri would you be so kind as to warp Dabi into a f*cking volcano?” Izuku grits out when Dabi sets a piece on fire, reducing it to ash because he ‘can’t find the f*cking match’.

“I’m bored.”

“Me too.”

“Same.”

“Why did we even decide to do this?” Dabi whines.

“It’s all Toga’s fault.” Tomura speaks up.

“You didn’t have to help.” Toga replies, sticking her tongue out at the two of them.

“We could’ve been done if someone didn’t burn all of the pieces.” Izuku groans out, giving Dabi a look.

“Look I-” Dabi starts defensively.

“sh*t I HAVE TO GO.” Izuku yells out when he checks the time on Kurogiri’s pocket watch which he ‘borrowed’.

“Seeya in a few days ‘Zuku-chan!”

“Don’t die!”

“f*ck off.”

Izuku laughs quietly to himself as he runs down the stairs and into the street.

The boy spares a glance back at the bar that’s always so fun and colourful and something similar to his safeplace.

He finds himself missing it more and more each time he leaves.

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“You’re gonna be late for Nedzu.” Aizawa shouts as Izuku sprints into his apartment.

“Yeah, I know.”

“Where were you?”

“Oh, you know, just hanging out around the city.” Izuku grabs his notebook from his room, ready to run out for his lesson but Aizawa grabs his arm.

He flinches back and the adult looks ashamed and annoyed with himself for forgetting. Izuku gives him a smile of reassurance but he’s honestly still got a shadow of fear in his chest, ready to bubble up.

“I was just wondering if you’re doing okay.” Aizawa mentions, looking a bit nervous.

“I’m- I’m okay. I know I shouldn’t, but I miss them and I feel a bit guilty. Don’t worry though. I’ll be fine.” The greenette grins and retreats out the door before he can be questioned further by the pro hero.

Nedzu is standing in front of the UA gates holding a stopwatch.

“ Fifty-six seconds late, Midoriya.” He comments and Izuku glares down at him.

“Sorry?” He tries.

“You know the rules.” Nedzu says with a mischievous glint in his eyes.

The fourteen year old drops down in a plank and Nedzu seats himself on his back, a cup of tea appearing out of nowhere.

“Fifty-six pushups, if you would, Midoriya.” Nedzu says, taking a sip.

The freckled genius sighs and does them all impressively fast and he stares at his arms in wonder. He supposes lifting all that trash and doing all those runs paid off.

“Now, would you like to continue my exam?” The stoat asks excitedly.

“I believe you meant, finish your exam.” Izuku grins with a determined look in his eyes.

“We will see.” Nedzu says with a shrug.

Izuku finishes the exam four hours and thirty-four minutes later.

“I would say I’m impressed but I suppose we will have to see if the results speak for themselves.” Nedzu takes the hefty stack of papers from Izuku and plops them down onto his desk.

“What did I score on the other tests?” Izuku takes a sip of his own tea, Nedzu rolls his eyes because the boy knows exactly what he got on those tests.

“100% on all three. I must say those are not scores to scoff at.” Nedzu admits. He expected nothing less from his student but praise is essential to growth.

“So now I’m assuming I get to choose a course?” The boy prompts.

“Yes, essentially. There will be other paperwork and preparations depending on the course.” Nedzu explains. Internally he wants Izuku to choose the hero course. Because he sees himself in him. He sees a brain with intelligence greater than those around it and a drive that won’t quite ever disappear. He sees disdain for heroes and adults, similar to his distaste for human. He sees another person failed by humanity.

Izuku so desperately wants to go to the hero course. But he knows Bakugou will be there. But Aizawa will be there so maybe it’ll be okay? He glances around the room and spots a form. The name Yagi Toshinori peeks out from the top.

“So All Might is going to be teaching here?” He asks, dislike clear in his voice.

Nedzu hops off of his seat and grabs the file, glaring at it as if it personally offended him.

“Yes. The government has pinned him to us without an ounce of teaching experience so he can find a successor. Although I have no qualms with the hero, he is inexperienced and reckless. I will not stand for someone like him ruining the reputation of my school for selfish reasons.” Nedzu goes off on a rare tangent and Izuku can’t help but agree.

“I’m assuming his search for a successor will be limited to the hero course?” Izuku asks.

“Most likely, however there is about a 90% chance of him choosing Mirio Toogata as his successor.”

“Oh, I know him. I cleaned up Dagobah beach with him. Weird dude. He’s nice though.” Izuku says as if making small talk. He slowly places the hero course in the reject pile. All Might’s an asshole. No thank you.

The support course forms, general education forms, and management forms stare at him and he quickly comes to a decision.

“Management course!” He clasps his hands together cheerfully. Nedzu is wearing the oh so beautiful face of complete shock. He was probably expecting support or general education given his intelligence and his design or EraserHead’s goggles.

“I wanted to be unpredictable. Plus, the management course is the smallest class, right? All Might would have literally zero reason to ever teach that course. And Aizawa teaches a course in management too, right? Considering he’s an underground hero, he would probably have to talk about how to avoid the media and what keeps you away from it as a bad example. Except underground heroes are received very well by the internet so maybe he’ll give some tips on that. Oh my god, imagine if a management course student won the sports festival! That would be quite the spectacle. Wouldn’t it, Nedzu-san?” He ends his speech with a returned honourific to the dumbfounded animal in front of him.

“Management course requires no extra paperwork. What’s the ulterior motive here, Midoriya.?” Nedzu narrows his eyes.

“You wound me, Nedzu-san. Of course there’s no ulterior motive! Here’s a little random fact though. Management course students and support students work together an awful lot. And towards the end of the year we even work with the hero course students a bit. However, last time I went through the UA records I noticed another 100% student in the support course. Ah, name, what was her name? Oh, I know! Hatsume Mei! Seems like a lovely girl if you ask me.” Izuku giggles out cheerfully. Nedzu looks mildly concerned now and it’s bringing him more joy than he ever thought possible.

Nedzu dials a tone into his phone and the fourteen year old can hear the principal saying, “Powerloader we have a situation. Yes, code orange. Yes, I know what code orange is. No, I will not restrict his options. Even if I did, he’d probably choose support and the outcome would be just as bad. Yes, just make sure the end of the year project…. Well change that. Yes, I know this is going to be a big headache for you. I hope to see you at our meeting in ten minutes. Goodbye.”

The freckled boy gives the albino a sh*t eating grin and Nedzu glares at him because he did not want these two to meet. Hatsume is a very smart force to be reckoned with. And Midoriya is well, Midoriya. The boy who can make grown men sh*t their pants. Together they’d be- God, he doesn’t even want to think about it.

“What was that about, Nedzu-san?”

“Well, would you look at that, we are out of time! Better get home to Aizawa, I bet he’s worried.” Nedzu yells to block out the kid’s protests and literally pushes him out the door.

Why?

Why did Izuku just have to find out about Hatsume Mei?

The greenette skips down the sidewalk on his way to the apartment. He should really give Nedzu some notes on how to improve the security of UA’s student files.

He pulls out his phone and types in a number. 194-XXX-XXX, and call.

“Hello, is this Hatsume Mei? Yes, it’s me Izuku Midoriya. Ah, great, I see you’ve also accessed the files. I have recently chosen to attend the management course. No, not support. However I can still help you with your, I believe you call them ‘babies’. I’d like to help you advertise them, design them, etc. I’d like 35% of Hatsume Industries profits.” The boy opens the apartment door and shushes Aizawa, mouthing ‘I’m on the phone’ and goes to his room, “and I’ll settle for 30%, no lower. Fine, 28%, however I want to be a co-founder considering I will be assisting your debut in the sports festival. Yes, that is fine. I look forward to our partnership.” Izuku ends the call.

He walks out of his room and smiles at Aizawa who is going through his class for the year.

“Who were you talking to?” It’s supposed to be casual conversation but the teacher is genuinely Interested.

“A friend.” Izuku answers cryptically.

“What’s their name?”

“Hatsume Mei.”

Aizawa pales visibly. Izuku cackles.

It’s clear by themselves the two are handfuls enough. Them meeting or interacting is supposed to be avoided at all costs. Literally nobody wants to deal with them together.

Except for Izuku and Hatsume themselves.

About a mile away in the principal of UA’s office, Nedzu and Powerloader are reconsidering their life purpose. If they both already know about each other there is literally no way to keep them apart.

All they can do is hope they don’t collaborate at the sports festival.

Izuku holds the phone back up to his ear.

“Hi, Hatsume, so about the sports festival…”

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Aizawa is sitting on the ratty couch he’s had since he’d moved here in the living room.

It’s three in the morning. In all honesty, it’s a perfectly normal time for him to be up. It isn’t his job to be energetic all the time like Present Mic.

However, he doesn’t know that it’s also very normal for Izuku to be up at this time. He shuffles into the living room and Aizawa knows it’s not for water. The boy revealed to him yesterday his hate for water. (An odd thing to hate but it is what it is)

According to Hound Dog, and his one meeting with Izuku. A meeting where Izuku literally sat rock still in the chair with perfect posture and his signature blank face and didn't say a single word. The green eyed boy is touch starved.

The UA teacher is still a bit surprised when Izuku plops down on the couch, right next to him. Granted, it’s not a very big couch. He seems upset. But it doesn’t look like he’s been crying.

Actually, even when he’s crying it doesn’t look like he’s been crying so that’s a possibility Aizawa can never take off of the table.

Unlike sadness though, the boy is tense, his jaw clenched and his eyes are looking at the ceiling as if to prevent tears dropping. It’s subtle. An anger the boy clearly has years of experience hiding.

The long haired man thinks back to Inko. She seemed ot be angry all the time and not scared to show it. Using the excuse of it building up and needing a release that just happened to be Izuku.

Izuku’s never yelled or gotten angry that Aizawa’s seen.

He stills when a thought comes to the front of his mind and rings loud and clear, resonationg throughout his whole body.

What if he wasn’t allowed to be angry?

The boy is sitting, in a ball, knees pulled up to his chest and arms wrapped tightly around his legs to make himself as compact as possible. He hasn’t said a word. Honestly, very odd for Izuku. Aizawa has figured out how chatty Izuku is, and how much he actually likes the kid’s talkative nature.

He wonders if Inko found it as endearing as he does.

If Aizawa was a betting man, he’d put all his money on the answer being no.

What if wasn’t allowed to be angry?

Shouta can only imagine how frustrating that would be.

How much anger and resentment is stored, bottled up in that little body?

“Midoriya?” He calls out. The boy grunts in acknowledgement.

“You’re allowed to be angry. You know that, right? You’re allowed to be angry and sad and scared and happy and frustrated and yourself. You don’t have to be pleasant or emotionless all the time.” He says, keeping his eyes trained dutifully on his paper to keep the pressure off of the poor kid.

“Really? Do you really mean that?” It’s a weak, raspy, tired voice. It cracks in the middle and it’s so vulnerable and weak. This is a child.

“Let it all out, kid.” AIzawa ruffles his hair, still not taking his eyes off of the profiles on his lap.

There's a sob, and another one and another and another and they don’t stop. It’s gut wrenching, heartbreaking, loud, ugly. Aizawa doesn’t look. It’s a private moment. In it’s own special way. He moves his hand to Izuku’s back and rubs it encouragingly, as if to say the words Izuku’s been waiting for his whole life. ‘I am here.’

And Izuku hates it. He hates how Aizawa’s hand is warm and feels safe and he’d rather hug Aizawa for the rest of his life than ever even think of hugging Inko again. He hates how Aizawa is more of a home than Inko or Hisashi have ever been.

He sobs and cries and screams into the pillow that has mysteriously appeared on his laugh and leans on Aizawa’s shoulder, crying and talking about everything he hates and how unfair the world is. Aizawa just strokes his hair absentmindedly and listens. He doesn’t look at him though. Izuku appreciates it. He always hated how Inko watched him cry as if it gave her some sort of sick satisfaction when all he wanted to do was be alone and the last thing he wanted was to be looked at.

The sun is starting to rise and the tears have long ago stopped, crying out and crusting onto his face. He feels gross. His hair is damp and warm and stiff from the tears. His skin is sticky and salty and gross. He’d cried for at least three hours.

Aizawa has nodded off beside him and Izuku smiles for the first time that day because he loves mornings. The birds are chirping loudly and the sun is a rich shade of orange as it rises up. It doesn’t matter that he hadn’t slept a wink last night. He feels more rested than he has in years. His chest is lighter and he feels like he’s floating.

The green eyed boy thinks back to last night, how Aizawa had shushed him and comforted him and listened and he’d been there. He hadn’t watched or blown him off like Inko did.

“You’re allowed to be angry. You’re allowed to be yourself.”

The rising sun shines through a window behind the couch and illuminates Aizawa’s hair, making it look like a halo.

Izuku thinks it suits him.

Chapter 8

Chapter Text

Aizawa wakes up to find himself alone on the couch, the clock above the kitchen counter reads 3:47 pm and Izuku is nowhere to be seen.

He sighs to himself. Last night was… heavy for sure. The UA teacher looks at the couch cushion where Izuku had poured his heart out twelve hours ago and smiles bittersweetly.

The kid definitely had a lot to say and he hopes he feels better now that it’s all out in the open.

Aizawa stretches his limbs and hears his joints pop and creak. God, he’s getting old.

He wonders where Midoriya goes during the day, if he’s getting in trouble, just what he whispered to Muscular, how he got so smart, and the list goes on and on.

He needs to know if his kid is okay. Wait- his kid?

Aizawa shakes his head and tries to ignore the elated feeling bubbling up within him at the thought of Izuku being his kid and goes to make a cup of coffee.

The erasure hero thinks back to this morning, he’d told Izuku he was allowed to be angry but the boy had simply cried. He’d been sad and frustrated but not angry. Aizawa wonders if the anger is hidden too deep for the boy to cry out.

He grabs a mug and pours his freshly made coffee in without sugar or cream and greedily chugs the burning hot liquid. Maybe he should follow the kid. Just to be safe.

Well, not follow, more like track. Figure out where Midoriya is, just to be safe.

He walks around the block, scours the town in search of Izuku and then pauses when he realises that he hasn’t looked downtown. The slums. The bad part of town.

The hero ventures through dark alleyways that smell like piss, sem*n, and blood. He’s almost given up on finding his kid after looking through brothels, bars, and gas stations when he stumbles upon an oasis.

It’s a park. Maybe it’s not the cleanest or prettiest. There are piles of dog sh*t around the bushes and the trees are rotting from the inside out. There’s a wasp nest inside a streetlamp and the grass is overgrown and dry.

But it’s got a bench in the middle and there are daffodils sprouting wherever there’s spare space.

And in the middle of this park is his kid. Surrounded by at least a hundred children. They’re wearing clothes much too large for them, and shoes undoubtedly stolen from drunkards that passed out behind bars, Aizawa suspects half of them have lice and live in internet cafes.

But they’re happy and they look like they wouldn’t want to be anywhere else except here, sitting in a hoard in front of Izuku.

And maybe the boy doesn’t notice it but they’re huddled in formation. A circle around him, not a single way to get past them to the teenager in the middle.

Aizawa realises what they’re doing. Maybe it’s unconscious, maybe it’s completely intentional. But they’re doing it nonetheless.

They’re protecting Izuku.

They’re protecting the boy who tells them stories.

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Izuku sits on his bench and looks around at the crowd of children looking up at him expectantly with shining eyes filled with what a normal person would think is innocence. Izuku knows better. It’s knowledge and curiosity. Knowledge of cursed things that no person should ever experience. And curiosity about the things people claim to be innocent.

He doesn’t smile like he normally would. His chest feels empty and it’s taking everything in him to not jump in front of a bus.

The boy lets out a sigh and opens his mouth to start a story. It’s a sad one this time. One that starts out happy and talks of a bond between two boys and ends with them parting ways and never meeting again.

“Once there was a boy named…” Izuku looks around and points to a boy with brown eyes and spiky hair that’s the same colour as his own. The boy lights up with eyes full of determination and excitement. “Gon! Gon Freecs!” He shouts out. “A boy named Gon. He wanted to be a hunter, like his father Ging. So he went to go take the hunter exam. On the way there he met two other boys named…”

“Kurapika!” A boy with blonde hair and scarlet eyes cries out.

“Leorio!” A boy who looks far too old to be a child cuts in.

“Kurapika and Leorio. The three became friends immediately. They work through many tests to even get to the hunter exam, but when they arrive an adult name Tonpa tries to give them a laxative and sabotage their chances. However Gon is able to detect the laxative and save both him and his friends!” The kids all cheer and Gon sits up straight with a proud huff.

“The first phase of the hunter exam is simply to follow the examiner to the second phase. However, the examiner walks extremely quickly and the path to the second phase is over 60 kilometers long! While Gon is running he meets another boy, he’s the same age as Gon and when he finds this out he jumps off of his skateboard and runs beside him. His name is…” Izuku looks around at all of the eager kids holding their hands up.

“Killua, Killua Zoldyck.” A boy with white hair and sharp blue eyes murmurs out. Gon scootches beside him and the boy’s eyes light up happily.

“Killua Zoldyck.” Izuku finishes his sentence. He goes through an elaborate story about the challenging hunter exam and starts to wrap up the first part of the season with a heartbreaking line.

“Illumi asks Killua what he could possibly want, because he raised him and Killua could never want anything except to kill. Killua clenches his jaw and averts his eyes, keeping them trained on the ground. And he says quietly. ‘I want to be friends with Gon.’” All of the kids are silent as Izuku finishes up the story and tells them to come back later for part two.

Aizawa slinks into the shadows and watches in wonder as they shuffle away from their spots and create a path for Izuku. The greenette hands both a little girl and a scrawny but tall boy a daffodil and waves at the rest of his fanclub as he walks away.

The hero wants to punch himself. Why was he so suspicious? Why was he worried? All Izuku is doing is telling poor children stories and making people happy.

He walks towards his apartment and spots Izuku staring at him. Directly in the eyes. When Aizawa returns eye contact the kid looks away and walks in the other direction.

Shouta sees him knock on a door with a sign above it that reads, ‘Musutafu Soup Kitchen’ and smiles. Izuku doesn’t need the hero course to become a hero.

He already is one.

The no longer freckled boy greets Tokoyami with a nod of his head and gets to work. He feels a pit of guilt building in his stomach. He rarely tells the kids sad stories, normally opting for happy ones filled with action, like that one about volleyball.

He grabs a pitcher and goes around to pour lemonade for the people sitting down to eat what is most likely their first meal of the day.

Izuku makes idle chit chat with a war veteran who tells him stories named Akaguro, eventually the stories evolve into a lecture about true heroes. He tells the curly haired boy to call him Stain and Izuku complies. When he gets up to put his dishes away he ruffles the smaller’s hair and tells him he’s a true hero.

And Izuku should’ve given up on his dream a long time ago but he can’t help but feel pride bubbling up as he smiles for the first time that day to thank the man.

Tokoyami comes up behind the quirkless boy and taps his shoulder. Izuku jumps at the touch but turns around to face the bird headed boy and his dark shadow.

“Midoriya. Our shift is over.”

“Ah, okay. Thanks Tokoyami!”

Izuku starts to take off his gloves, mask, and apron but the slightly shorter (yes, Izuku will continue to hold this over *hehe puns* Tokoyami’s head until the other grows taller.) boy tugs on his shirt and his quirk gestures to the door.

“Midoriya, would you like to get lunch?” And maybe if birds could blush he would be. Dark Shadow giggles into his ear and Tokoyami wishes for a second Midoriya wasn’t there so he could shine a flashlight onto them.

“Oh, um.” Izuku starts. Tokoyami’s mind is going crazy because this was a mistake and he shouldn’t have asked. God, he’s such a nitwit. Midoriya would never want to be friends with a creature of darkness like himself, nevertheless more than frie- “Sure! I’d love to Tokoyami, but you’re paying.” Izuku says with a smile on his face.

Tokoyami doesn’t know him well enough yet to know it’s fake.

The slightly older greenette excuses himself to the restroom and Tokoyami waves him off until he’s out of sight and slumps into his chair. Dark Shadow is singing happily into his ear and Tokoyami smiles slightly.

Izuku stares at himself in the mirror, droplets of water stuck in his hair and his face shiny with it too. It’s been so long since he’s had a friend. He supposes Kacchan was his friend ten years ago, but that’s no longer true. He dries his face off with a brown paper towel and jogs out to meet Tokoyami who looks a bit giddy.

Izuku analyses the bird headed boy for a minute, his body language says he wants to be near him. He doesn’t really understand. Tokoyami looks happy whenever Izuku is near him.

The quirkless boy reaches down to the depths of his gut. Does he feel happy when he’s with Tokoyami? The answer is no. He feels nothing when he’s with Tokoyami. Sure, he doesn’t mind his presence and the guy seems nice, but he doesn’t feel happy when he’s with him. That’s right. When he’s with Tokoyami. He doesn’t feel happy at all.

He feels nothing.

Is this what friendship is supposed to feel like?

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Izuku kicks open the heavy wooden door and reflexively juts out his elbow. His instincts are rewarded when Toga stops running towards him with a pout on her face.

“Yo.” He holds up a hand in greeting and turns to Dabi who salutes him, Shigaraki, who grins behind his father’s hand, Kurogiri who nods at him, and Twice who smiles then glares at him.

“‘Zuku-chan! It’s been so long!” Toga sings out. She tries to stab him with a knife but Izuku deftly blocks it and twists it out of her grip, then presses it against her neck. His fighting has greatly improved since meeting Tomura, most likely thanks to Toga who constantly charges at him not with intent to kill, but the resolve that if he can’t evade her, he doesn’t really deserve to live.

“Toga-chan!” He sings back and envelopes her in a hug. She goes stiff but then melts against him and returns the embrace.

“I can’t stay long. First day of school is tomorrow at 6.” He sighs out after the blonde wriggles out of his arms. The boy slumps onto the bar stool next to Tomura. Kurogiri slides him a Shirley temple without the cherry and he sips on it gratefully.

“What can we do that doesn’t take up much time?” Toga wonders aloud. The puzzle was too much hassle and they didn’t even finish it because Tomura disintegrated so many pieces.

“How about a video game?’ The blue haired man pipes up and Dabi glares at him.

“Yes that sounds like fun! Absolutely not!” Twice yells out, before Kurogiri warps him to his room.

“Come on Tomura, nobody can beat you at video games.” Izuku whines out, banging his head on the bar.

“Yeah. Your dry ass will probably cheat too.” The fire-quirked man grunts out.

“I’m not cheating! I’m just really good at them!” He protests.

“Probably cuz you have no life.” Dabi sighs out. Izuku tries to suppress a snort and fails. Tomura gives him the stink eye.

“At least I’m not an NPC.” Tomura says, crossing his arms as if it’s the worst insult anyone could ever get.

“Me? An NPC? I didn’t know you knew how to crack a joke, Tomura.” Dabi deadpans.

“I wouldn’t mind playing MarioKart.” Izuku remarks nonchalantly.

“f*ck.” Tomura curses out quietly.

“Sensei!!! Tomu-chan said a bad word!” Toga tattles.

“No I didn’t- wait why can Dabi curse but not me?” Tomura protests loudly.

“Tomura, if you curse again I’ll have Kurogiri warp you into time out.” A distorted static voice speaks out sternly from the television.

“Hah, I get it. You suck at MarioKart! Don’t you?” The black haired fire user taunts.

“No I don’t!”

“Prove it.”

The two engage in a tense staring contest while Izuku shuffles through the videogames Tomura has stacked near the Wii. He finally pulls out a copy of the fated game and turns to the television.

“Oi Donyoku, can we use your TV for MarioKart?” The greenette asks as if he isn’t talking to one of the most powerful quirk users in the world.

“Um. Sure?” All For One answers in a baffled voice at the boy’s bold request.

“I wanna be peach! She’s soooo cute!” Toga sings out with stars in her eyes as she selects her character and cart.

“Asshole, I wanted to be Bowser.” Dabi glares at Tomura who is holding his controller with three fingers while rummaging through his pockets for tape.

“Too bad, NPC.” He sticks out his tongue and tosses the washi tape to Izuku who has Toad selected as his character.

“Tape my fingers?” The antihero asks the younger with a pout on his face. Izuku smiles a bit at the sight and begins wrapping the tape around Tomura’s ring and pinky fingers.

The blue haired man stares down at the small boy who is probably smarter than every single person in the room, his face warm as a slight smile creeps its way onto his face. The greenette has his tongue sticking out and his eyebrows furrowed in concentration as he wraps the tape around Tomura’s fingers.

Izuku doesn’t even realise how vulnerable Tomura is when he does this. Doesn’t realise how much Tomura trusts him. Doesn’t realise Tomura would betray his sensei for him.

It’s just a split second where that observation of Tomura’s stabs him in the back of his mind. It’s been bugging him for days and all he can do is attempt to ignore it. Izuku uses his teeth to tear off a long piece of tape for his left hand, takes the ‘villain’s’ ring and pinky fingers closer and gingerly wraps them in the washi tape he gave the older for his birthday.

He grins triumphantly when he finishes and backs ups slightly to admire his work. Tomura smiles back at the quirkless boy with so much potential to be a ‘villain’ and thinks to himself that he’ll do everything in his power to make sure that never happens.

Dabi stews in annoyance as he selects Wario instead of Bowser and Toga insists they play Moo Moo Meadows. Izuku narrows his eyes and analyses the course as well as his controls. As the countdown starts he presses A when it reaches two and bursts forward. Dabi’s car explodes in smoke, hindering him for a moment before he can go. His hands burst into flames and all it takes is a glare from Kurogiri for him to put them out.

Nearly ten games later, Izuku has won 4 games, Toga 3, Tomura 2, and Dabi 1.

The fourteen year old genius holds his stomach as he laughs, his eyes watering when he can’t stop, because it’s been ten minutes and Dabi is spurting out some of the most vulgar and colourful language he’s ever heard and it’s all in one continuous sentence.

When Izuku finally waves goodbye to his friends, and receives a wet kiss on his cheek from Toga, his cheeks ache from smiling so much and he can’t find it in himself to feel guilty for hiding this from Aizawa. He looks back at the League of Villain’ hideout and an ugly feeling blooms in his chest. It’s regret. He regrets leaving the bar. He wants to go back.

And never leave.

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Aizawa wants to pull his hair out because this is the most insufferable conversation he’s ever had. The kid’s been ignoring him since he got home. Eraser Head wonders if it’s because of the subsequent awkwardness lurking from the emotional night they had or betrayal, maybe annoyance at the hero for following him while he was doing nothing wrong. (Sure, he hung out with ‘villains’ when he’d lost him but Aizawa doesn’t need to know that.)

“So, the first day of school is tomorrow. You excited?” Aizawa tries to encourage smalltalk.

Izuku pokes at his dinner for a second, his head hanging low. After a second his head snaps up as if he’d been broken out of a train of thought.

“Oh, yeah. I guess.” It’s an answer, that’s for sure. But it doesn’t do anything to help Aizawa with his dilemma.

Izuku looks back down at his plate, it’s lasagna. Aizawa used some of the frozen Italian food to make a quick dinner after getting home late as a result of a last minute meeting at UA about the Hatsume Izuku dilemma. He pokes it and stabs a piece with his fork, placing it into his mouth and quickly swallowing it without chewing.

Aizawa watches the whole scene unfold with confusion and a bit of worry.

“Do you like it?” He asks, keeping his eyes trained on the boy’s face which really doesn’t ever reveal a lot, but in complete contrast, is the most expressive thing about him right now.

“Yeah, it’s really good!” Izuku makes his voice innocent and pleasant and happy. It’s the voice you’d want to hear from a little kid when you ask them this question. It sounds honest and open and like the kid really honestly enjoys it. It’s a placating voice.

It’s the voice Izuku uses to talk to his mother.

Aizawa realises this and freezes up. Of course. What did he expect? For the kid to act normal around an adult in his personal space, living in the same house as him, acting like a parental figure?

“If you don’t like it. You can tell me.” He comments in the most casual voice he can conjure up.

“No, no no! I swear it’s really good! I’m just kind of tired!” Izuku gives him a smile and shovels a piece of lasagna into his mouth before chugging some water and swallowing it.

“Tired huh.” Aizawa deadpans. It’s the most common lie, yet the most truthful. Most of the time they truly are tired but that’s not the real reason.

“Yeah, sorry.” Izuku laughs while he lies unwaveringly to the only adult he trusts. It’s not that he doesn’t still trust Aizawa. It’s just that he’s not quite comfortable with him yet.

“Don’t worry about it, Midoriya. I’m sorry dinner was so late.” Aizawa apologises genuinely. Izuku just smiles and waits for the adult to start cleaning his plate before getting out of his chair and shoveling off the large piece of lasagna remaining. He places his napkin over it so the UA teacher won’t see he didn’t actually eat it and brings his plate to the sink.

Aizawa dries off his plate and places it up in the cupboard. He’s surprised to see Izuku do the same, cleaning his plate in half the time. The kid immediately grabs some tupperware and begins preparing leftovers. Once he’s done he brings the pot to the sink and soaks it before scrubbing it until it’s sparkling. Then the fourteen year old wipes the counters off, cleans the stove, oven, starts scrubbing the floor on his hands and knees, sweeps the kitchen and dining area, and goes to empty the trash can before Aizawa stops him.

“Problem Child. I can empty the trash can. I ate dinner too, and it wasn’t hard to make.” Aizawa carries the trash bag out to the garbage can and places the recycling and compost in their corresponding containers.

He gets back into the kitchen to find Izuku staring up at him with confusion and wonder in his eyes. Is this not normal? Sure, he cooked, but it was frozen food and Izuku had cleaned up most everything else. Is getting help not normal for Izuku?

He gets his answer when the fourteen year old thanks him profusely for at least five minutes then runs upstairs as if he’s going to get scolded if he stays downstairs any longer.

Shouta swears if he wasn’t a hero he would kill Inko Midoriya.

The tired UA teacher glances at the clock. 11:39 pm. Maybe he should get to bed as well.

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Izuku finds an extra toothbrush in Aizawa’s bathroom and uses the man’s toothpaste without asking. It’s not that he thinks he shouldn’t ask, it’s just that, if he asks Aizawa will tell him to figure it out himself, maybe call Izuku dumb and lazy, yell at him because he’s being annoying. So he quickly tiptoes out of the other’s bathroom and into the one in the main hallway. Just as he’s leaving Aizawa’s room he’s met with no other than the man himself.

The greenette wants to sink into the ground and die.

“Ah, that’s right. I forgot about this. f*ck, why didn’t I buy this stuff earlier?” Aizawa groans out. Izuku clenches his jaw and prepares himself for a scolding that will never reach his ears. Instead Aizawa hands him a backpack.

“Tell me if there’s anything else you need.” Aizawa says, and ruffles the boy’s hair before walking into his room and leaving Izuku stunned in the hallway. The underground hero seriously doubts Izuku will actually ask him for anything he needs.

The little genius opens the yellow backpack and finds it neatly filled with almost everything he could possibly need. He stands there dumbstruck for a second, recovering shortly and spitting out his toothpaste, then retreating to the room Aizawa had told him he’d be staying in for a bit.

He sits cross legged on the carpet below him and pulls out one item after another out of the backpack, carefully placing them in a line.

A toothbrush, toothpaste (Izuku winces a bit when he realises Aizawa already had these ready for him), mouthwash, a brush, a comb, shampoo and conditioner for curly hair, soap, face wash, socks, (and to Izuku’s mortification) underwear, his UA uniform, an empty water bottle, a watch, a pack of hair ties, a journal, a National Geographic magazine, a fictional book about time travel, earbuds, foundation and concealer to cover up the burns, textbooks for the management course, and last of all, a phone.

Izuku holds the new phone in his hand with wide eyes. Aizawa shouldn’t spend money on him. Why did he spend money on him? He already has a phone, why does he need a new one?

He starts crying, because it’s so thoughtful of Aizawa to do this, and because he’s so worried. Doesn’t this cost a lot of money? Does he owe Aizawa now? He’s never owed someone. They’ve always owed him.

“It’s okay kid, you don’t need to pay me back.” Aizawa says when he sees Izuku sitting with all of the stuff lined up in front of him, phone in hand, tears streaming down his cheeks. He’s surprised. The fourteen year old didn’t even close his door.

“B-but isn’t this expensive? You’re gonna run out of money and it’ll be my fault. Why did you get me a phone? Mine works fine. Not that I’m not thankful, it’s just that you shouldn’t spend money. Oh my god, I shouldn’t tell you how to manage your money. I’m sorry, do whatever you want with your money please don’t yell at me. I’m sorry, ignore m-” Izuku rambles, his breathing getting quicker and shallower.

“Hey, problem child, it’s okay. I’m not mad. I got you a new phone because you left your old one at your parent’s house.” Aizawa explains, Izuku reaches into his back pocket and realises he’s right. “And don’t worry about money, I’m a hero and a teacher, it’ll be fine.” He reassures. Izuku pretends to release the tension in his shoulders as if he’s relieved or convinced, but he’s not. It’s a survival tactic.

“I didn’t think you’d want to go back there, but I did pick up most of the stuff from your room and put it in this one.” Aizawa continues, pointing to the desk near the bed with his notebooks stacked up on it, there’s a pillow and a laptop from the house too.

“Thank you.” Izuku says, bowing his head a bit. A habit he’d earned from his lesson about respect with Inko. Aizawa notes the habit in his mind. Overly adaptive behavior.

“I don’t know if you want to hear about this, but your mother is currently being held at the police station, she’s going to be tried in a month, we’re going to need to interview you one more time, and talk to child protective services before then.” The adult tells him carefully.

Izuku just nods. He doesn’t mention his father. Doesn’t tell Aizawa how much he hates CPS for getting his hopes up and then crushing them all those years ago, doesn’t tell him he probably won’t be able to sleep until 2 am, doesn’t tell him about anything.

Aizawa hands him a shirt and some shorts. They’re big on Izuku’s small frame but he thanks the man nonetheless. He doesn’t tell Aizawa he probably won’t be able to wear the shirt.

The black haired man eventually leaves the room and tells Izuku he’s allowed to close his door. The fourteen year old is surprised and interprets it as an order but keeps his door open a crack open as a habit. If he closes his door Mommy will storm in and yell at him. If he locks his door, they’ll remove it completely.

Izuku doesn’t ever take his eyes off of the door. It’s illogical, but the moment he stops watching the door, stops being careful, if the moment Inko storms in and screams at him because she feels so betrayed that Izuku would do this, even though Izuku didn’t do anything.

He slips on the shirt and looks in the mirror. His foundation is cakey and though it covers the colour of the burn, you can see where the skin is raised. Izuku wipes it off with a tissue. His freckles shine through again. He takes out his dark contacts and throws them away. This was dumb. Why was he concealing his face again?

A nasty voice in the back of his head tells him he’s giving up too easily, he needs to commit and make himself untraceable. He ignores it. He trusts Aizawa.

It takes thirty seconds for Izuku to start tugging at the collar of the shirt. It’s too close to his neck. It’s not even touching but it’s just too close. He feels a phantom pressure around his windpipe. It’s uncomfortable and he can’t do it anymore. He feels like he’s choking.

Izuku pulls on the shorts and rips off the shirt. When he crawls into bed, he wraps himself in a blanket. He feels exposed. Like he’s being watched. He knows he’s not but still.

He switches off his bedside lamp and curls up into a ball, whispering to himself a reminder.

“Don’t get attached Izuku. Don’t get attached. Don’t feel Izuku. If you feel again you’ll just get hurt.” Over and over. Until the dark blue sky fades into a greyish purple and a beam of rich orange shines through the window. Izuku presses his back against the wall and watches the door. At 5:21 am Midoriya Izuku falls asleep against his will.

It’s only 39 minutes until he has to wake up, so it’s not really beneficial at this point. Izuku hates sleeping. He hates dreaming. He hates remembering.

But time moves slowly in dreams. Memories feel real. They feel like a lifetime.

Izuku opens the front door and is greeted with his mother’s smile. He’s seven years old. He knows how to anticipate and diffuse the event. That doesn’t mean it always works. Sometimes he fails.

He knows how to read micro expressions, the smile on Inko’s face feigns safety, a smile only present for the purpose of hiding anger behind it. It’s a smile waiting to transform into a scowl, waiting for even the smallest reason to explode. Someday it won’t wait for a reason, it will just do what it knows best.

Each time Izuku sees that smile and relaxes, only to slip up and say the wrong thing and go to school with bandages around his wrists the next day, his new skill of reading expression evolves. Like his life depends on it.

And in a way, it does.

He knows how to walk into a room with his mother and know whether or not she’s looking for a fight, know if she needs to blow off steam, know if she’s upset, angry, scared, happy, disgusted. He knows how to walk into a room with his mother and father and know Hisashi is scared, know he’s scared for himself, know he’s got anger underneath that, know he doesn’t care what happens to Izuku.

Izuku could walk into a room and tell you exactly what everyone is feeling and anticipate the atmosphere. He learned the hidden rules, the secret ones. The ones they never told him but he learned, or just knew because they had the most severe punishments. He adapted.

He survived.

Inko could scream and yell and cry and grab and scratch him. And he’d be so so so scared. She’d be driving and he’d be crying and to save his life, to survive he learned to cope. So he’d detach himself from the situation. It only made her more angry at his lack of response, but it wasn’t like he could do anything about that. His mind would just wander further and further, his thoughts empty, his mind and body one, detached from the pain, physical and emotional.

He’d detach during violent outbursts at first, but soon it all just blended together, he was constantly detached, he just wanted to feel. He just wants to feel. Every day was the same, like clockwork, reflexively going through the actions he needed to do. Izuku couldn’t afford to have, fun, couldn’t afford to feel, couldn’t afford to be interested or motivated, couldn’t afford to have an opinion.

Izuku’s life is more important than such trivial things like feelings or friends. Eventually he lost himself. His personality became nonexistent. Being present? Stopping the detachment? Don’t be ridiculous, that would only mean pain. Izuku’s life is about survival, Izuku’s life is about enduring.

%

Izuku stayed in the classroom, curled up in a ball, shivering. All he’d wanted was help on his project. Why him? Why did he draw the bad hand? What did he do to deserve this? He brought his hand down in between his thighs and wiped it across the skin, wincing as he did so. He brought the hand up to his face.

Blood.

The eight year old glances around the room. It’s nearly sunset. He’s late. He’s run out of tears. His face is sticky and salty. His eyes are blank. His mouth set into a grimace. He’s in a sort of daze.

Nothing feels real.

Izuku gingerly sits up and cries out when he puts weight on his lower half. He carefully bends over and looks around behind him just one more time to be sure. He feels so exposed. So humiliated. So stupid. He crawls over to the pile of clothes next to ‘Sir’s’ desk and grabs them in his fist. He pulls them towards his chest tightly and as quickly as possible pulls on the shirt.

The child stands up and feels something rush out of him. He doesn’t want to look. But he has to clean it up. Clean up the evidence. Nobody can ever know. He grimaces at the feeling of dried come splattered over his thighs and pulls on his underwear and shorts, sighing in relief at the feeling of being covered at last.

He limps to the bathroom to get paper towels and then back to clean up the mess.

The eight year old child goes home that night only to meet his mother, who screams at him and questions the tears on his cheeks, the brown stains of dried blood on his thighs. She’s only angrier when he doesn’t tell her. But he doesn’t trust her to say. He just feels dirty. He feels gross and used. He doesn’t want to talk about it to anyone because it makes his stomach toss and turn.

Inko screams till she’s hoarse and all Izuku wants is to take a shower but she tells him he doesn’t deserve it. Tells him he’s worthless, tells him he should be thankful he has her. Screams at him for being ungrateful, disrespectful. And he wants to tell her, somewhere deep within him. To explain, to make it better. But deep inside he knows it will make it worse. Izuku wants to cry but he can’t.

His throat hurts. It’s sore and it stings with a stabbing pain he never wants to experience again. His knees are scraped up and his voice is hoarse. Tomorrow he’ll be grateful it’s winter as he covers up bruises on his neck that are shaped like hands.

One of his teachers asks him to remove his scarf and although he knows he’s imagining it, he can see ‘Sir’ standing there, smirking with a threatening glint in his eyes, daring him to take it off and tell them all. Izuku wants to tell, he really does, but he looks up at his teacher again and doesn’t make an effort to take off the scarf.

He’s too scared to.

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The green haired boy wakes up with tears falling down the side of his face into his hair, making it wet and his eyes crusty with sleep. He’s scared and he’s sweating. HIs breathing is quick and shallow. Izuku puts a hand to his chest and slows his breathing. His clock reads 6:02 am.

Izuku quickly gets up and pulls on his uniform in record time. He hesitates before putting on his tie. He has the shirt buttoned up loosely enough to prevent him from feeling the phantom pressure on his neck, but it will all be for naught if he uses a tie.

The boy mentally prepares himself to talk to Aizawa as he brushes his teeth and attempts to tame his hair before giving up. And when he raises a fist to knock on Aizawa’ bedroom door, he hesitates, before saying f*ck it and knocking. When his hand touches the wood his whole body tenses up and fear shoots through him. It’s a reflex. When he was younger and didn’t know better he’d knock on their door at 4 am and tell them he had a nightmare or couldn’t sleep, or that he’d peed in his bed. After he’d suffered the consequences two times he’d learned better, learned how to creep down the stairs quietly to clean his sheets, or watch television until morning.

A sleepy Aizawa answers the door, he’s wearing his hero outfit but judging by the bedhead and wrinkled capture weapon he’d tried to get a few extra minutes of sleep.

Izuku assesses the atmosphere in the room. He studies the hero’s expression, eventually deeming a conversation safe. The fourteen year old holds up the tie.

“Don’t know how to tie it?” Aizawa asks, assuming Izuku has an actual normal question.

“Actually-” Izuku starts, wanting to say he doesn’t want to wear the tie, but then he remembers how telling Inko or Hisashi would always end up with him doing the thing he didn’t want to and suffering through a lecture, so he adjusts his answer. “Oh, um yeah, can you help me tie it?” He asks.

Aizawa, still sleepy from his brief catnap, doesn’t take the time to scrutinise Midoriya’s expression, and simply ties the boy’s tie. He does, however, notice the quiet choking noises the kid is making, and how he’s pulling the collar away from his neck, and subtly loosening the tie bit by bit when he thinks Aizawa isn’t looking.

“You don’t have to wear it kid, if anyone gives you trouble for it just tell me or Nedzu, okay?” The long haired man supplies helpfully as he latches onto a cup of coffee like it holds the secrets of the universe.

The green eyed boy hesitates, but then quickly pulls off the tie and unbuttons the collar with a sigh of relief.

“Ready kid?” Aizawa asks, ruffling the boy’s hair, and opening the front door. Izuku nods, and double checks everything in his head, making sure he has his backpack, notebook, etc, and steps out the door.

The walk to UA is uneventful and consists mainly of Aizawa’s loud slurps of coffee from his abnormally large thermos accompanied not long after by a satisfied “ahhhhh” sound.

Izuku wanders off on his own, knowing the layout of this building like the back of his hand, he quickly walks towards 1- I

He opens the extremely large door which he already mentioned is overkill to Nedzu and is immediately met with the sound of an argument.

And as soon as he enters the room he assesses the atmosphere, it’s slightly tense, people are stressed, or worried, or anxious, that kid sitting in the corner is anticipatory, the one in the front with glasses and black hair is excited, and the two fighting are smug, frustrated, and playful all in one. He reads their expressions. They’re annoyed. What if it escalates into-

“It’s not the business course, it’s the management course! Management Department is literally the name of these classes!” A boy with orange hair and horns made from fire shouts.

“Everyone calls it the business course! Management is just such a mouthful, plus, business is so much more catchy and a much more popular name.” The other one, with red hair and white eyes reasons.

“Settle down.” Midnight sighs out, entering the class just behind Izuku. He smiles at her and she returns it with a wink.

The green haired boy locates a seat towards the back of the classroom, giving him a wide view over his classmates, which are honestly very few.

He leans forward and whispers into the girl in front of his desk’s ear.

“Are they gonna be okay?”

“Yeah, it was a stupid fight, just a spat. No harm done. They used to do this all the time in middle school. Don’t worry about it.” She reassures.

Oh, Izuku realises. It’s just a spat? A simple, no harm done, playful, no malicious intent, argument? That exists?

Midnight snaps him out of his thoughts when she smacks the teacher’s desk with her whip and insists they all introduce themselves. He groans, god, he hates icebreakers.

Luckily, homeroom is only ten minutes long. So he doesn’t have to sit through insufferably boring introductions. However, she did offer a piece of information that was rather interesting. Apparently class 1-I is the only management course class this year as a result of the lack of applicants combined with the extensive requirements to get in.

The basic classes go by in a flash, along with the orientation which was just a two hour long speech from Principal Nedzu, although it was obviously just meant to take up time because the stoat started speaking in gibberish towards the end.

Izuku checks the schedule, two class periods left. English and Introduction to Business. Nedzu had hinted that Izuku wouldn’t be taking English and instead would be having his usual sessions with him as a replacement given the fact that Izuku is fluent in English.

Midnight strolls back into the room and Izuku curls his lip in disgust at the groans of appreciation that roll through the room. The boy sitting next to the window with blue hair wolf whistles. The freckled boy wants more than anything to dislocate his jaw because in this house we respect women. He saw almost nobody with true potential in the class honestly. They were all mediocre at best at the basic subjects and their behavior right now is honestly repulsive.

Izuku had wilted a bit inside when he found out there were only 15 students qualified for the Management course who applied. This is the course that will literally control the hero course students for the first half of the year, teaching them how to improve their image and how to manage their own hero agencies as well as how to defeat villains efficiently in the most showy way possible.

Even if the hero student wants to be an underground hero the business course helps them figure out to tone done attacks and hide their presence from the media as well as conceal their quirk, while still maintaining a generally good opinion from those who know about them.

On top of that, they get to collaborate with the Support course, or more specifically in Izuku’s case *insert confetti* Hatsume Mei *insert ‘yay!’ sound effect* and they have opportunities to do last minute changes to the second and third year costumes, and possibly intern at hero agencies to help with their appearance to the media.

Honestly, the hero course is flashy and impressive and Izuku still has a part of him that wants more than anything to be in that classroom, but the Management course has so many more opportunities and benefits.

Midnight snaps her whip and scans the small classroom, an evil glint in her eyes as she licks her lips. Izuku shivers slightly. He wonders if he’ll ever be comfortable around middle aged women again. Maybe it’s not possible when every one reminds him of Inko.

“We’re going to analyse the hero course’s costumes!” She shouts out, waiting for a reaction, but, Izuku realises with a sinking feeling of disappointment as he smiles, that his class is boring and they’re all whining about how much they resent the hero course.

Midnight watches her class with furrowed brows, her mouth twisted up in uncertainty and disappointment.

“Hey! Watch what you say about the hero course students! You’re going to be colleagues in a few years, without them. You serve no purpose as a management course student.” She says, her voice low, threatening, and slightly seductive.

“In a few minutes we will be analysing the hero course’s costumes that they designed themselves!” She sings out cheerfully, the whole class feels a shiver go through their bodies as the unspoken threat of acting out of line hangs in the air.

“Now, I’m going to hand out a packet of information about each of the 1-A hero course students’ quirks and personalities(as observed by Principal Nedzu) and a worksheet that corresponds to the student you were assigned. You will grade the costume of the student assigned to you in several categories, effectiveness, attractiveness, popularity potential, and room for improvement. You will also write at least a paragraph for each category about how to improve the grade you have given them.” She explains, while handing out a packet and worksheet to each student.

“Midnight, I have a question!” Izuku calls out, his classmates looks surprised at the lack of honourific but Midnight just gestures at him to continue. “Is there a word limit?”

The entire classroom is visibly taken aback by the question, because who the f*ck would want to do extra work?

“Ah, yes, you’re Nedzu’s personal student, aren’t you? There’s no word limit, this time. But please do at least try to do less than ten pages, please Midoriya?” She sighs out.

“Aizawa has expelled two students today, meaning there are eighteen hero course students left, and fifteen of us. Who would be willing to do two worksheets, or maybe three?” She calls out hopefully. Immediately Izuku raises his hand and to his disdain the sleazy boy with blue hair raises his hand too. Midnight tosses two extra packets and worksheets to Izuku, and one to the wolf whistle boy. The perverted boy gets hit in the face with his, while Izuku catches his in the nick of time.

Serves him right Izuku thinks to himself.

He checks the profiles of the 1-A students he’s assigned to.

Hagakure Tooru, Todoroki Shouto, and Ashido Mina.

He checks their quirks, personalities, and finally, their costume designs. He lets out a sigh when he sees them. He has a lot of work to do.

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Izuku, much to Midnight’s chagrin, has both finished in fifty minutes of the designated one and a half hour time limit, and placed a stack of papers that must weigh at least four pounds in front of her.

“I’m done.”

“I can see that.” A sigh, “Exactly how many pages is this, Midoriya?”

“Only 92.”

“I want you to summarize this in twenty pages or less. Typed, size 11 font, Times New Roman, single spaced.”

“Thirty pages.”

“Midoriya, I don’t think you understand, we are not negotiating how long-”

“Twenty five pages.”

“Fine.”

Midnight pulls out a flask and chugs it when the curly haired kid struts up to her desk with sixty five pages of paper in hand not even ten minutes later.

“I thought I said, twenty five pages.”

“Right, however you did not specify if that was per person or overall.”

“Fine. You win.”

Izuku knows he probably shouldn’t test his limits, and his undiagnosed PTSD is giving him an internal panic attack right now, but he really just wants to piss off Nedzu.

“What should I do while I’m waiting for everyone else to finish?” He asks, hoping she takes the bait.

“Uhm, you get a free period.” She waves him off and starts reading his paper.

Izuku has never been more thankful he memorised the UA rulebook.

According to section 4, line 51, students may go to another classroom during a free period as long they have finished all work due within the next week and are not disrupting the class they are visiting.

Disruption- Disturbance or problems which interrupt an event, activity, or process.

He won’t be interrupting as long as he doesn’t stop the continuous progressing of the activity they are focusing on. Izuku wears an evil grin as he quickly makes his way up the hall to the classroom he’s been wanting to see for the longest time. He makes direct eye contact with a security camera and sticks his tongue out at it.

Even if there was a fire alarm pulled right now, according to UA’s rulebook, Izuku cannot be stopped from reaching his destination.

“Midoriya, I’m actually going to assign you homework right now!” Present Mic yells out, sprinting towards the boy, hoping to hinder his journey by assigning work due within the next week. Izuku smirks, because Present Mic is the only teacher not teaching class right now. Aka, he’s the only teacher who can try to stop him.

Emphasis on the try.

“Didn’t Nedzu tell you? I’m not taking English this year, I’m fluent.. Instead, I have private lessons with him. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have somewhere to be.” He waves off the blonde who has his mouth hanging open in shock.

The fourteen year old strolls down the hall and stops before a door that reads 1-F and kicks the door open, not bothering to knock because there’s no rule in the UA rulebook that says he has to knock or be allowed in by a teacher.

He lets a true smile creep it’s way onto his face as he walks past the teacher who is simply staring at him in shock and to a certain workstation.

A grimy face covered in gasoline and ash greets him. Black, fireproof goggles cover their eyes.

Izuku simply looks over their shoulder and at the blueprint of a taser gun they’re making lies.

“Don’t you think it would be more flashy if you added a way for it to spray water as to electrocute more people at once?” He suggests nonchalantly.

Their head whips around and pink hair slaps his face. They lift off their goggles and reveal the golden eyes of none other than Hatsume Mei.

“Izuku!”

“Mei!”

“Oh god, they’re already on first name basis.” Powerloader groans out.

She turns to face him before enveloping him in a hug and slamming yellow goggles over his eyes.

“Remote controlled? Bluetooth? Includes shield, filter, zoom option, one way mirror, and bulletproof?” He guesses as he looks through them. The goggles he’d designed for Eraser Head and mailed to Hatsume come to life.

“Yep! Just like you asked. So, how’d I do? Will you help me design babies?” She asks, an eager look in her eyes.

“f*ck yeah.” Izuku grins as the pink haired girl whoops and starts flying around the classroom with rocket boots.

“Mei! Come back!” He shouts out, and she flies back over, nearly whacking off his head in the process.

“Yes, your highness?” She says in a voice that should be teasing but is completely serious.

“Did you get him?” The greenette asks, nearly bouncing up and down because he needs this kid and there is no way he is going to attempt to use social skills to get him.

“You bet your ass I did.” She gives him finger guns and winks happily.

“Mei, you are a god.” He deadpans.

The golden eyed girl simply snaps back on her goggles and gets back to her work.

“Why’d you want that one anyways? I’m pretty sure he wants to be a hero but didn’t get in.” She asks, switching on a flamethrower. Izuku casually picks up the fire extinguisher conveniently located right next to her station.

“Have you heard about his quirk? Imagine all the support items you could make for it. And, I like his hair.” He deadpans.

“You- You like his hair?” She stops melting her taser gun and turns to him, flamethrower still spitting fire.

“Have you seen his hair? It looks so soft, and it’s like, so spiky? I know he wants to be an underground hero but there’s so much potential in there for advertising.” Izuku’s nearly drooling at the thought.

“I mean, true, but don’t tell him that or else he’ll run off and I spent too much time convincing him to even talk to us for you to throw it all away.” She turns back to her gun.

“I know all of the hero course students’ quirks and I want you to make support items to combat them.” He mentions. Her head snaps up.

“Are we going to use him at the Sports Festival?” She asks in a quiet voice.

“Imagine how good it will look when the winner of the Sports Festival is wearing support items all branded with the soon to be iconic name of Hatsume Industries.” Izuku throws his arm over her shoulder and looks up at the ceiling.

“His quirk combined with the flashy support items will be unbeatable.” She observes, shrugging off the management student’s arm.

“Yep, he’ll be an instant sensation, his snarky personality and dry humour? The people will love him.” They sit in deep thought, calculating the success rate of the operation, and how they’re going to pull it off. Hatsume is the first to snap out of it, her face a bit more determined now.

“Now, Izuku, I love you, but if you stay here any longer, I’m pretty sure Power Loader is gonna burst a blood vessel and if that happens he’ll never let me stay here overtime.” The support student dismisses the boy with a wave. Izuku gives her a dramatic bow and strolls out of the classroom and back to his own.

The best part about the support department is that it’s so loud, microphones can’t pick up any noises other than drilling, or screeching, or beeping. And even better, the cameras are dysfunctional as a result of being electrocuted, burned, or shot at.

Izuku walks back into his classroom, smiles at Midnight, and sits in his seat innocently.

Nedzu is going to be pissed.

Chapter 9

Chapter Text

Nedzu is pissed.

Izuku knows this to be a fact the moment he bounds through the doors to the principal of UA’s office and takes a seat on the couch directly across from him.

“I’m giving you detention.” He deadpans, it’s too early for this. His eyes are ablaze, suit wrinkled, tea nowhere to be seen.

“Why?” Izuku decides to bait the angry animal. He knows he’ll come out triumphant.

“You broke school rules.” Nedzu sighs, knowing he’s fighting a losing battle.

“No I didn’t.” The freckles genius retaliates, having memorised the UA rulebook weeks ago.

“Yes you did.” The stoat holds his head in his paws, muffling his defeated, extremely annoyed voice.

“Prove it.” A smug smile spreads across the green eyed boy’s face, Nedzu swears the kid knows just how much of a little sh*t he is.

The albino’s eye twitches and a menacing aura gathers around him because he has no proof, the conversation is undecipherable due to blurry, compromised camera footage due to support course incidents, nonexistent audio, and a slightly traumatised Power Loader. There's no proof Midoriya is planning to rig or use loopholes to win the school festival like Nedzu knows he's doing. He just lets out a groan, which Izuku correctly takes as a sign of surrender.

“Great, that’s that. Chess on Friday, 5:00? Yes? Okay, great talk.” He leaves the office, not quite closing the door on his way out, knowing how much that annoys the principal.

For the tenth time since Izuku and Hatsume met, Nedzu feels himself wishing he could drink alcohol.

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“DEKUUUUU.” A growling voice comes in like a rolling thunder.

“What, Kacch- Katsuki.” He grits out, not really wanting to look at the blonde who terrorised him during his childhood years.

“What the hell is quirkless trash like you doing here?” The explosive boy growls.

“Getting lunch?”

“Don’t be smart with me, sh*tty nerd.” Bakugou grabs his collar and Izuku gets a rare glimpse of the boy’s hearing aids, he tries in vain to be ethical and not think about how he could incapacitate the boy, but he fails.

“If you don’t want to get detention, you should let me go, According to Midnight, I’m the ‘darling’ of UA high school. Put a finger on me and Nedzu will have your head.” Izuku purrs into his ex-friend’s ear.

Katsuki studies Izuku for signs of bluffing on his face, even if Izuku was lying he’s sure Bakugou wouldn’t be able to tell, not after the training from Inko.

A red haired boy with sharp teeth walks up and when Bakugou sees him he immediately lets go of Izuku, who wants desperately to tease Bakugou about his obvious crush but realises this is not the time.

He bolts, and hides himself in a crowd of people in line for Lunch Rush’s amazing food.

“Midoriya!” Out of the corner of his eye Izuku sees a familiar ‘friend’ approaching him.

“Hi Tokoyami.” He greets, calmly collecting a bowl of rice and picking up a pack of disposable chopsticks.

“Would you like to sit together today?” The boy’s quirk swims around his shoulders and ruffles his hair but Izuku barely notices.

Mei waves at him from an almost completely empty table, consisting solely of herself and a brunette girl who looks extremely uncomfortable being there but also too polite to excuse herself. There’s a beaming smile on the pink haired girl's face and Izuku feels his own mouth tilting up at the sides as he waves back to her.

Tokoyami doesn’t think Izuku’s ever looked at him like that before. He feels a pang in his chest when the greenette simply nods as an answer to his question and leads him over to his table.

“Hey Izuku! Look at this cutie I found wandering the lunchroom! She’s got a zero gravity quirk! Imagine how many babies we could make!” Mei yells out joyfully, hugging the blushing girl.

“Mei, we talked about this.” He groans. Tokoyami studies his face and finds no real exasperation present. It makes him a bit sad. Maybe the pink haired girl has known Midoriya for longer.

“Hi, I’m Midoriya Izuku, you are?” The greenette puts out a hand to the brunette with burning cheeks and doe eyes.

“Uraraka Ochako.” She replies, taking his hand in hers after smoothing her now rumpled school uniform out, courtesy of Hatsume’s energetic hug.

“I’m Hatsume Mei!” Mei introduces, despite the fact both Uraraka and Tokoyami have already heard her name at least six times.

“I’m Tokoyami Fumikage. Nice to meet you.” He feels like he’s butting in where he’s not wanted, but it’s not like he’s got anywhere else to sit and Izuku’s his friend, right?

Hatsume thinks that lunch is a success, she manages to get Uraraka’s number and make her face permanently red by the end of the thirty minute period.

Midoriya thinks lunch is okay. Mei is eccentric as usual but she’s found her own special project now. Tokoyami was mostly quiet, but they talked a bit. Is this really what being friends feels like? He personally prefers Mei’s presence.

Uraraka thinks lunch is a complete disaster. She made a fool of herself at least twenty times, Hatsume pointed out how little she was eating, outing her. And it’s plain unfair how cute the pink haired girl is when she talks about her “babies”.

Tokoyami thinks lunch is disappointing. Izuku probably didn’t mean any harm but he was cutting their conversations short every time he tried to get to know more about his friend. Dark Shadow keeps insisting Midoriya cherishes their friendship as much as he does, but he can’t help but doubt that.

When the bell rings later, marking the end of the school day, Tokoyami rushes out of 1-A as quickly as he can through the crowd of first years and to 1-I. Midoriya is talking to Hatsume excitedly.

Tokoyami pretends to not notice his friend deflating slightly at the sight of him.

“Hi Tokoyami.” Izuku greets.

“Please, call me Fumikage.” The green haired boy looks uncomfortable at this declaration of closeness from his friend but nods and replies.

“Okay, then call me Izuku.”

“Would you like to walk to the train together?” He asks hopefully, because honestly he hasn’t been able to hang out with his friend lately.

“Ah, sorry. I’m actually hanging out with Mei today. Maybe another time?”

“Oh, that’s okay. You’re volunteering on Thursday, right?”

“Yes! I am. See you then, Toko- Fumikage!”

“Goodbye Mi- Izuku.”

Mei nudges Izuku on the way to her house and gives him a judging look.

“Well, that wasn’t awkward at all. Don’t lead him on if you don’t like him.”

“What do you mean? Tokoya-Fumikage is my friend.”

“It doesn’t really seem like you consider him one in the same way he does.”

“I don’t understand, he called us friends, doesn’t that mean we are?”

“God, you’re hopeless. Do you think I could make babies for Dark Shadow? Maybe armour? There are so many possibilities!”

Izuku doesn’t even think about Fumikage later that night when he has the time. It’s almost as if the boy doesn’t matter to him.

Being with the bird headed boy doesn’t feel the same as hanging out with Tomura, Toga, Dabi, and Hatsume. But they’ve never actually called him their friend.

If this is what friendship feels like, Izuku’s not sure he wants to have friends anymore.

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“Would you just consider i-”

“No.”

“Just for a day?”

“No.”

“I think you could be great.”

“I already am great, thank you very much.”

“What can I do to make it up to yo-”

“Nothing, please leave me alone, Yagi.”

“Young Midoriya, if you would onl-”

“NEDZU!”

The principal of UA seems to pop out of nowhere and give the freckled boy a polite smile and the number one hero an acknowledging nod.

That greeting is a demonstration of hierarchy, Izuku is on a higher level than All Might to Nedzu.

He f*cked up.

“You called?” The stoat prompts Midoriya, who gives him a gleeful smile.

“He’s bothering me.” Izuku points, his face changing to a pout, at a baffled All Might. Nedzu gives him a considering look and sighs before waving off the quirkless boy and scolding him.

Izuku walks with a pep in his step to his second class of his second day at UA high school. He sits in his unassigned assigned seat at the back fo the abnormally small classroom. At least this time nobody’s fighting and the air feels lethargic.

Midnight cracks her whip on her desk with glee and tells them they did an amazing job with criticising and fixing up the hero class costumes. It turns out Ectoplasm got injured in a villain fight last night during his patrol and can’t teach math class today so they get to have an extra business management block.

She tells them to make a slideshow with the 1-A students’ original costume designs and their finished design complete with notes on how they improved it to benefit the rising hero’s quirks and popularity.

Izuku lights up and begins writing a short, thirty page analysis on Hagakure, Todoroki, and Ashido’s quirks for his presentation, but Midnight finishes up her instructions, making him wilt slightly.

“Five minutes per costume, max, three minutes at least, and speak clearly and slowly enough for us to understand you.” She says in her silky, sultry, commanding voice, scanning over her class with her gaze, lingering a bit too long on Midoriya who gives her a scowl.

The class works in silence, grumbling here and there about how UA should be more fun, but all they’ve done is boring stuff. Izuku rolls his eyes, what were they expecting when they signed up for Management?

He looks at his slide for Hagakure, her original design being only gloves and boots, with no other clothes, for stealth reasons. When he’d seen her design on the first day he immediately approached her after school and told her she didn’t have to be practically naked while fighting. He supposes she didn’t know any better, but eventually he went to Mei and Power Loader with samples of Hagakure’s DNA to replicate and weave into a fabric that would become invisible when she touched it. He’d even figured out that her quirk wasn’t actually invisibility, it’s camouflage. Meaning she can blend in with her surroundings, rendering her ‘invisible’, which explains why she wasn’t born invisible. It’s not a mutant quirk after all. The fabric is flame resistant, non-stick (as to prevent villains from spray painting her to see her or something of the sort), puncture proof, noise cancelling, and shock absorbent. It had taken many hours to incorporate all these elements into her costume but Izuku is sure it’s worth it.

His slide for Todoroki shows a completely new design. He’d tried to run it by the heterochromatic boy, but had been brushed off and told he didn’t really care. Which the greenette had, naturally, taken complete advantage of. Instead of that cursed block of ice with a red eye, the boy now has a fire resistant, temperature regulating suit that could survive extreme hot and cold, He’d added a spray bottle type feature for Todoroki to be able to freeze and use to attack villains when he was in a hot room. And because the boy had informed Izuku he would never use his fire, Izuku decided to include some hand warmers for when the guy inevitably gets too cold from using only his ice, along with rescue victims that are too cold from his ice. It came out looking like a navy jumpsuit with a silver, white trim that looked like frost creeping up a window. There were fingerless grip gloves, with a yin and yang symbol on it except it’s red and blue, with a snowflake and a flame respectively in the middle of each part. There’s a breast pocket that holds the hand warmers and a chunky, black belt (because white looked too patriotic and reminded Izuku of a bastard name Yagi) that holds the spray bottle, a compressed blanket for rescuing victims, salt, handcuffs, and extra holsters for anything else the guy might need. There are knee pads, elbow pads, and a bulletproof vest sewed into the costume without looking too chunky. And big, non slip, chunky, black boots that will be good for running on ice, and anything else that he may encounter. This costume took much longer than Hagakure’s but honestly, who is so confident that all they want as their costume is a block of ice?

His slide for Ashido was much shorter, he’d done a short analysis on her quirk and honestly, her costume worked pretty well, he added some more protection on her joints, a bulletproof vest, and shoes that are immune to her acid. Mainly his improvements just made her costume more attractive and in turn, would help her gain popularity. The costume didn’t compliment her colouring and made her look a bit scary. So he made her horrid purple boots black with pink accents, her costume, purple, pink, and gold, (he personally wouldn’t have chosen those colours but they were the only ones she would allow) and got rid of the offensive fur. If she needed to be warm she could ask Todoroki for a hand warmer.

Midnight begins calling them up by seat number, and to Izuku’s chagrin, he’s seat number thirteen, almost dead last. He doesn’t bother learning anyone’s name, they’re all a waste of his time. They don’t seem like they want to be here and only one or two of them seem intelligent enough to know what they’re doing.

Seat numbers 1-5 have Iida, Asui, Satou, Jirou, and Kouda. They do a decent job keeping the original style in place and making the costumes flashy and attractive enough. But only Asui’s costume seems to assist and suit her quirk. Though, Jirou’s costume doesn’t assist her quirk much and can be improved greatly, it really suits her style and is clearly respectful of the notes she made. Iida’s is definitely a copycat of Ingenium’s so he thinks it is probably the most functional, (however unoriginal, the person designing it really should’ve changed that) besides Asui’s, despite how clunky, large, and inconvenient it is. Satou’s costume is okay. It doesn’t really advertise his quirk, but it’s attractive enough and has a belt for him to keep sugar in so it barely passes his criteria. Belts are extremely useful if used and designed properly.

Seat numbers 6-12 have Aoyama, Ojirou, Kaminari, Kirishima, Shouji, Bakugou, and Tokoyami. Internally, the freckled boy praises Kaminari’s costume modifier, the only one who did a decent job. He makes sure to note seat number 8’s name, but soon forgets it. Bakugou’s costume is well designed to begin with and the person barely changed anything, probably because even Izuku can only see a few improvements to be made, the main one being those awful gauntlets. They’re going to weigh him down. Kaminari’s is also a copycat costume, though less noticeable due to adjustments, it really suits his quirk well, giving exposed skin so his costume doesn’t tear when he uses his quirk, but there should be extra reinforcement in case he exhausts his quirk. All in all, the costume is acceptable in his book. Ojirou’s is very practical and the modifications were actually good, and even though the costume is simple they added some embellishments by making a brace for his tail and a belt. Aoyama’s suits him and his quirk very well. Though it’s a bit too flashy for Izuku. Tokoyami’s is a piece of cloth. Must he say more? It’s better than a block of ice, but not by much. Soon enough it’s his turn. He presents his slides, getting interrupted by Midnight towards the end as he goes over his time limit, but she begrudgingly admits he did a good job and his classmates have no criticisms. Except number 14, the pervy blue haired guy.

He raises his hand, “I think Hagakure’s design was better before, wouldn’t it be more stealthy to wear no clothing, as to make no noise, also, her being naked could be an element of surprise. Ashido’s costume should cover less too, since she releases acid, she could use it to repel anyone who touches her.” He says with a sly smirk, thinking he made valid points.

Izuku takes a deep breath, and one look at Midnight’s disgusted face tells him he’s allowed to go off . “Hagakure’s costume is noise cancelling and I think the ‘invisibility’ factor is enough of a surprise factor, plus she could always carry around an air horn or something. Ashido cna only release acid from her palms and the soles of her feet, making it useless to reveal skin when a costume could help protect herself. And before you argue about popularity, by showing more skin, why didn’t you say anything about Todoroki’s costume which covers him completely? Honestly, being close to naked can make heroes lose younger fans due to parents deeming them inappropriate, especially since these girls are 14-15 years old. Any other criticisms, number 14?” He grits out at the end.

“Everyone give a warm round of applause to Midoriya, for his wonderful presentation!” Midnight calls out and the girls in the class clap enthusiastically, while a few boys look a bit sheepish or annoyed that he was being decent with the costumes.

“Ahem.” The sleaze is up to present now. He puts up his first slide, Uraraka, Her original design was a space themed, slightly bumpy, chunky, but still cute, inspired by Thirteen costume. His ‘improved design’ is skin tight and doesn’t have the holster she had for small objects for her to use as an attack strategy when fighting in a barren area. The second slide shows Yaoyorozu’s costume. Originally a zip up bodysuit with an open back made of a high end, well made material and a colour complimenting scarf to use as a makeshift skirt that is easy to remove if she has great need to use her legs to create items, with a backpack for food, books, and space to put items she has created, knee pads, elbow pads, and a cute, yellow fanny pack/belt. It’s a well made design that is clearly thought out and took lots of time. He respects it. Though maybe a sports bra / bulletproof vest with shorts would work better to expose her stomach as to access a greater space for her quirk to work, though zippers work just as well. She’s clearly intelligent and has thought out a way to be comfortably covered and be able to use her quirk which requires uncovered skin. The quirkless boy makes sure to remind himself to talk to her, he can tell it would be an interesting, intelligent conversation, and she would be a great addition to his and Mei’s ideas.

Number 14 has however, changed this nearly flawless design to a barely there, swimsuit that exposes her entire front, barely keeping her decent, prone to slipping off when in fights, and a small belt that does not have even close to enough space for her items. The backpack, and joint pads are completely scrapped in the ‘improved’ design.

“Any questions?” He smirks after presenting. Midnight looks like she might explode, and dimly Izuku remembers he had noticed how similar they looked when he saw them talking yesterday. They must be related somehow.

He hears a pencil snapping and sees the only four girls in his class with veins popping out of their foreheads. There’s a boy sitting near the front with a slight frown on his face but everyone else seems oblivious and gives the perv a thumbs up. Izuku raises his hand and the blue haired guy points to him.

“Yes, I have a question. Actually, I have quite a few questions.” The boy gestures for him to continue on.

“How the f*ck did you even get into this class? How are you not expelled yet? Why did you change Yaoyorozu’s design? It was nearly perfect. Uraraka clearly specified she didn’t want it to be skintight, why did you make it skin tight? Did you make Yaoyorozu’s out of latex? How will that benefit her quirk in the slightest? Won’t it make it harder to put on if she’s urgently needed? Why latex when she specified the exact material that is breathable and is hard to rip? Did you even look at their original designs? Is your dick so tiny you feel the need to compensate by doing whatever the hell this is? Also, did you realise you just sexualised two fourteen to fifteen year old girls? These designs make no sense. Are you sorry? Will you change them? No? Well what if I told you Yaoyorozu’s aunt is sitting right there at the teacher’s desk, watching you shamelessly sexualise her niece?” He grills the boy, who gets pale at the last question. Soon, he’s smacked in the face by Nemuri, who is glaring at him with disgust. He tries to retaliate, the greenette presses a pressure point on his neck and he goes limp on the ground.

“Midoriya, you’re friends with Nedzu, right?” He nods. “Well, then, I think you’re a good judge of character, please escort whatever this is to his office and discard him, actually, while you’re at it, discard of anyone else you feels deserves it. I noticed you watching the class and I think it’s time for some spring cleaning.” Midnight says, he can see how tight she’s gripping her whip, trying to control herself from not hurting the boy too badly.

“Wow, I feel like Aizawa right now, about to expel half of my class. You really mean I’m allowed to get rid of them, Nemuri?” He comments, leaving out the honourific per usual. She lets out a weak chuckle. The entire class holds their breaths in anticipation.

“I’m going to call out 1-A students and if you designed their costume I want you to stand up.” Everyone nods, hoping he won’t call their name. “Asui Tsuyu, Jirou Kyouka, Kaminari Denki, Hanta Sero, Aoyama Yuuga, Satou Rikidou.” He looks at the boy who designed Bakugou’s costume, the one who had frowned at Yaoyorozu’s modified design, and decides to take pity on him because he seems like one of the only decent guys here, and Bakugou is very smart, and there wasn’t too much he could change on the costume. “ And Bakugou Katsuki."

Seven students stand up, looking nervous and slightly defiant because they thought their modifications were okay. And they’re right. They are okay. Definitely not the best, but still good.

“If you are still sitting down, please follow me to Nedzu’s office.” Five people cry out angrily, but Midnight shoots them a glare and most of them quiet down. One brave, arrogant, dumb as dirt soul however, grabs Izuku’s collar and makes the motion to punch him.

Before anyone can even blink Izuku has him pinned to the ground, hand bent awkwardly.

“If you try anything, I will break your arm in self defense and get away with a clean record.” He says in a bored tone. The dumb boy with long black hair nods quickly and sighs when the freckled genius lets him go.

Izuku bends down to pick up the blue haired perv and walks towards the principal of UA’s office, five people trailing behind him. They arrive at the reinforced door, his little line of trash watches in shock when the greenette scans his eye, fingerprints, and enters in a passcode, before entering the office.

“Why Midoriya, I wasn’t expecting you so early. I thought it unusual for you to be entering the preferred, normal way instead of breaking in like usual, but now I understand.” Nedzu says amicably, there are seven cups of tea on his table, one tiny couch, and a plush armchair. It’s clear who he expects to sit in the regal armchair and who he expects to squish together on the sofa.

“Hey Nedzu, I’m here to take out the trash.”

“Midoriya, please refrain from calling UA students trash.” The principal of UA sips his tea as he answers the young boy casually.

“They’re not UA students anymore.” Nedzu pauses as he hears this, then chugs down his tea.

“I see, I retract my previous request, refer to them as you please.”

“Please phone their parents and tell them they have been expelled from the business course. Please inform the blue haired boy’s parents of his behaviour. I’m sure you saw what he did, right? I’ve got the voice recording if you didn’t.” The ex- Management course students stare dumfounded at the plain looking boy.

“At this point Midoriya, you should just be a teacher.”

“That would look good on my college application, Midoriya Izuku, teacher at 15 years old.” He says jokingly. Though it would be fun to be called Sensei, maybe give Bakugou detention every once in a while, get the famous staff room coffee Aizawa drones on about every time he wakes up.

The stoat seems to consider this for a second, “How about student teacher, or assistant teacher?”

“Wait really?” He says startled.

“I owe you, don’t I?”

“Yes you do, but this won’t be enough payment for everything.” The fifteen year old materialises a notebook with favours everyone owes him recorded in it out of thin air. Nedzu owes him about thirty favours, this would only pay for one or two.

“You can be a real teacher then.” Izuku halts his writing, and smirks at the albino animal who looks hopeful.

“That still won’t pay for everything.”

“All Might can be your student or assistant teacher.” That makes him perk up, though the downfalls of this outweigh the benefits.

“Though I do like the thought of being his superior, I hate the f*cker. You still owe me, Nedzu.” He clarifies.

“Ah, Hero Training falls right in line with Math. Aren’t you in college level math, Midoriya?” Nedzu asks, already having made up his mind. All Might is a clueless man who has never taught anyone before. Izuku is a child genius who is well trained in hand to hand combat and could probably defeat anyone in the hero class despite being quirkless because he has the muscles from picking up trash, the analysis he and Nedzu tirelessly trained for the past five years, and the fact that everyone in that class relies too heavily on their quirk to even think of matching him in hand to hand combat that he’s picked up from being bullied, sparring with the league and watching hero fights for his whole childhood.

“Yes, I think that time works perfectly. I suppose I’m starting tomorrow?” The two geniuses shake hands, when someone clears their throat awkwardly.

“No, we didn’t forget you. You’re still expelled.” Midoriya faces the four boys and one girl sitting uncomfortably close on the couch, drinking their cold tea.

When Izuku returns to his second block class, he’s greeted with his remaining seven classmates that all look slightly scared of him. Midnight gives him a smile and a packet of work. They’re the costume designs for all the expelled students.

“Before lunch, Midoriya.” She says gleefully, he grants her a wide grin and gets to work on the 1-A students’ costumes. It’s a bit ridiculous, he thinks. She’s a nice lady. Why does his stomach coil up when he talks to her? Why does he hold his breath whenever she makes sudden noises? Hasn’t he already learned his lesson? Didn’t Aizawa already show him adults are trustworthy? Didn’t Aizawa show him heroes aren’t all bad?

He wonders why he’s still broken if Aizawa already fixed him.

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He hands the now three times as thick packet with perfected costume designs to Midnight just one hour later who skims over it before handing it back and telling him to give it to Power Loader so he might be able to finish the costumes before 5th period. They’re almost making it too easy for him.

He nearly sprints down the hall but then remembers if he does, that will be one favour he owes Nedzu, and he’s never owed anyone. He owes nobody, and everybody owes him. It’s how it goes. Everyone owes him. Except maybe Tokoyami.

The quirkless boy walks an acceptable pace down the hall and restrains himself from slamming open the door to 1-F. Proud of his restraint, he takes out his phone, deciding not to take any risks, and disables the newly installed bulletproof camera that is conveniently stationed right next to Mei’s station, as well as all the cameras in the room.

He hands the cowering Power Loader the five pound packet of paper. He stands there for a second as the teacher looks over his designs and the blueprints he drew up last moment. For a moment Izuku thinks the man looks impressed and a bit disappointed at the same time. His suspicions are confirmed when the pro hero calls over Hatsume, who lights up at being addressed, and proceeds to beam proudly when she looks over Izuku’s blueprints and notes for hero costumes.

“That’s my Izuku! He’s amazing, isn’t he, Maijima-sensei!” She declares proudly, her eyes shining like stars as she reads the detailed analysis and support item ideas.

“You would’ve done amazing things if you were in Support, Midoriya.” He says earnestly, a longing look in his hard gaze, as if he regrets not getting the boy to join his course.

“I’m already doing great things, Maijima. Sorry to disappoint.” He says in dry voice, annoyed at the implications of the statement.

“C’mon Izuku, look at the baby I’m making for the sports festival!” She whispers loudly in his ear, but Power Loader looks too forlorn to have heard.

“Speaking of the sports festival, have you captured the target?” He asks, as she drags him over to her station.

“Not yet, I’m planning on sneaking up at him during lunch. Remember the plan?” She confirms.

“Yep. So, I know we’re going to make him win, but what about us? Should we place second or third or no?” The short boy asks curiously.

“Izuku, I know you. Maybe it’s only been like a week, and I’m nowhere near as good at analysis as you are, but I can already tell that you can beat any person in this school, quirk or no, support item or no, without blinking an eye. I want you to win. Shinsou should be able to help himself between his quirk and our babies, let him prove how effective out support items are, don’t go easy on him. I know my stuff is good, but you know how it’s made. Show them how strong you are. Show them a quirkless person can win the sports festival. Show them you earned your place in UA.” She says seriously for once, though she doesn’t take her eyes off of her baby.

“Mei…” Izuku feels his eyes watering up and internally sighs because he’s becoming the crybaby he used to be but still doesn’t stop the flow and begging dramatically sobbing against his friend’s shoulder as she tries to get him off.

“I love you, you’re the best, you’re amazing, the best thing that ever happened to me, you’re so smart, I wuv youuuu, we stan, a whole queen Mei, you’re so nice. I’m gonna set you up with that girl you like. Uraraka, right?” The greenette blubbers out unintelligently.

“I- I don’t like her!” She objects, accidentally connecting the red wire she’s holding to the blue wire instead of the yellow wire. A mistake Mei would never even think of making.

“You’re f*cked up wiring begs to differ.” He points out.

“Let’s just focus on capturing our target for now, lunch is in an hour, right?” She redirects the conversation, covering up her flushed face.

“Yes, Shinsou Hitoshi, right?” Izuku clarifies.

“Operation Unwilling Test Subject: commence” The pink haired girl announces cheerfully.

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The bell for lunch rings and Shinsou closes his eyes, feeling the sting that comes with being awake for too long as he blinks. As he’s pushing back his chair to stand up, a girl hits him in the head with a book.

“Oh, sorry, I thought I saw a villain for a second there.” She snickers obnoxiously.

The purple haired boy ignores her, and continues standing up, now rubbing the back of his head. At least he can just go eat lunch alone in the bathroom now in peace.

“Hello!” A wild eyed girl jumps in front of him with a mad expression on her face yells.

“Um. Hello?” He replies, confused and a bit annoyed. He just wants lunch, do they really have to come and antagonise him right now. He doesn’t even know this girl!

“My name is Hatsume Mei, he’s Midoriya Izuku!” She says enthusiastically, pointing to a plain looking boy who seems to suddenly appear. How did he not notice him earlier?

“You want to be a hero, right?” She asks, her golden eyes wide and sparkling.

“Yes?” He really hopes they didn’t come here just to make fun of him.

“We want to help.” She declares. For a moment he stands there dumbstruck, then glares and tries to take control of her because they're having a conversation, she must’ve replied to him, or answered a question at least once. There’s nothing. She’s just been making declarations.

“I don’t need your help. I don’t need your pity. Why are you even doing this?” He tries, maybe she’ll reply and he can make her move.

Suddenly the plain looking boy speaks up and he jumps. Dammit! How does this short kid mask his presence so well?

“I hate heroes. We want you to win because I run on spite and she wants to advertise her support items.” Midoriya declares.

“Absolutely not-” Suddenly the boy who’s six inches shorter than him hauls him over his shoulder and carries him towards the lunch room with purpose.

“What do you want from Lunch Rush?” Hatsume asks and Shinsou resigns to his fate.

“Tonkatsu Ramen.”

Soon enough Izuku drops Shinsou off at a round table towards the back of the cafeteria and tells him to stay. Shortly after a hero course boy named Tokoyami sits down awkwardly. The purplette feels that familiar feeling of disdain for hero course students die down when Tokoyami starts to make stiff conversation while Izuku and Mei are who knows where.

“I see you are also one of the darkness.”

“What the f*ck, man?”

“Ah yes, you too revel in darkness, welcome fellow shadow brother.” The conversation ends there but Shinsou discovers he feels slightly comforted by the short talk and begins up a new topic, asking how 1-A is without ulterior motives for once.

It turns out Tokoyami has many friendly acquaintances in 1-A, and isn’t unliked but tends to fade into the background. He’s very particular with his friends and tends to either choose those who also ‘revel in darkness’ or are made of pure sunshine. Shinsou thinks Tokoyami is a cool guy and likes the way he talks and acts. Maybe the hero course isn’t all too bad.

Quick breaths sound from behind him and he barely registers the 1-A girl hauled over Izuku’s shoulder. Both Izuku and Mei are smiling happily, seemingly unphased. The poor brunette however, is another story. Izuku gently sets her down into a seat with a large serving of Katsudon in front of her and tells Shinsou to make sure she eats it before venturing off again. This time without Hatsume, who seems content teasing the girl he soon finds out is named Uraraka.

In about half the time it took for Izuku to retrieve Uraraka, he returns with two people. A girl named Yaoyorozu, and a boy named Kaminari.

Yaoyorozu and Midoriya are engaged in a passionate debate about quirk theory and Kaminari just didn’t have a place to sit so he followed them when they were too absorbed to notice him.

They all make awkward smalltalk for a few minutes as they eat their food. Shinsou notices Tokoyami acting different. He’s changing his speech pattern to be similar to Izuku, not talking about darkness. The tired boy feels a bit disappointed because the bird headed boy begins to lose his personality Shinsou had begun to like.

“Izuku, what’s you’re favourite colour?” Tokoyami asks. The boy with large eyebags winces at the painfully standard, out of character question. And feels a bit of pity in his gut when Midoriya gives him a short answer.

Eventually though, Hatsume notices how Uraraka isn’t eating much and begins lecturing her softly while still maintaining her wild character. Midoriya and Yaoyorozu are deep in discussion about how quirks work with genetics and genetic mutations. Shinsou grows to be fond of Kaminari, who he soon finds out is a walking meme. And nobody really notices Tokoyami fading in the background, realising he’s failed again at being a part of the group.

He’s relieved when there’s finally a group discussion that the can contribute to. Izuku and Mei and talking about their hero course costumes, wrinkling his nose as he talks about Uraraka and Yaoyorozu’s now expelled designer. Then compliments all of their original designs.

“Actually, Fumikage, you’re ex designer wanted to just give you a plain old cloak. I added a bulletproof vest and all that jazz to protect you from long range attacks, as well as a belt, god I love belts, with a flashlight so you can control Dark Shadow if it’s too dark, and Mei and I are designing a support item to help with close combat if needed.” He says enthusiastically to the quirked boy. He feels an elated feeling in his stomach as he’s addressed by his friend and goes to reply, ready to be included in the conversation.

“Really? How did you even know that about my quirk? I’m glad you’re our costume guy.” He says quickly, hoping it doesn’t mess with the flow of the conversation. He’s glad it doesn’t.

The discussion evolves into Izuku and Mei designing Shinsou a costume for when he ‘inevitably’ as Izuku said, gets into the hero course.

All of a sudden an alarm blares throughout the school. Fumikage stands up abruptly. Then looks back at his friend- Izuku. Who’s staring into blank space, making no clear indication he’s planning on moving from his spot anytime soon.

“Izuku! Hey, Izuku! We need to go!” He says urgently, going to shake the boy out of it. When a hand hits his chest stopping him. It’s Shinsou. He suddenly registers what he’s doing in his panic addled brain

“Don’t touch him, could shock him. I think he’s having a flashback or something.” Shinsou says softly. Tokoyami feels humiliated, ashamed, for having done the wrong thing and feels sick to his stomach. He messed up. They’re going to talk about him again, just like they used to. He can hear the whispers.

“It’s just the press, Iida just said so.” Yaoyorozu looks a bit fidgety at not being able to help despite being the class president. Tokoyami feels even worse. Izuku blinks and smiles immediately, as if afraid he dropped his facade.

“Sorry, I just blanked for a second. I’m really tired haha. Sorry.” The greenette apologises profusely.

Tokoyami looks at him and looks at Shinsou, who isn’t looking at him with malice or judgement, but he can’t help but think they’re judging him. How can he be a hero if he can’t help his friend?

And it hurts even more when Mei hugs Izuku, because he should’ve thought of that, should’ve comforted him. For the rest of lunch, Tokoyami falls victim to paranoia, and becomes too timid to enter the conversation, feeling himself drifting far away from the group. Thinks back to Midoriya’s short answers, the dread returns. The hope in his chest, the happiness at being Izuku’s friend dissipates.

Does Izuku even like him?

The freckled boy doesn’t notice Tokoyami going silent, and later that day, when school gets out, Fumikage runs up to Izuku, who greets him with a blank face. It’s sharp and nothing like the warm smiles he gives Mei.

Does Izuku even consider him a friend?

“Do you want to walk to the train together?”

“Sorry, Fumikage, I have something to do with me. Maybe next time?”

“Oh, okay. See you tomorrow!”

“Bye.”

Does Izuku even care?

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Izuku slams open the door to the bar. He’s relieved Aizawa didn’t follow him this time. He’s not quite sure how he feels about the man right now. In the moment he didn’t care that much, but after he had some time to think about it, he began to ask himself questions.

Does Aizawa trust him?

Was he wrong to trust Aizawa?

What if Aizawa’s like Inko?

What if Aizawa’s just faking it?

He’s shaken out of his thoughts when he sees a knife heading straight from the space between his eyes. He easily catches Toga’s knife between two fingers. His reflexes having improved greatly since he first met Shigaraki. He naturally throws the knife straight at the All Might poster they have hanging up next to the TV monitor, hitting his eye.

“Twenty points!” He yells out joyfully, Kurogiri adds two tallys next to Izuku’s name on their white board of accuracy. It started during their darts game, a bullseye giving you three tallys, the first one to fifty tallys gets bragging rights and gets to choose the movie for movie nights for a month.

“‘Zuku-chan, guess what? Guess what?” Toga grabs onto his shoulders excitedly.

“What?” He laughs, eyes smiling.

“No, you have to guess.” She giggles out, pulling him towards the bar where Kurogiri has a Shirley Temple waiting.

“If this is about killing anyone, you can’t tell me or else I’ll be an accomplice, whether they deserve it or not.” He warns, and she pouts, in the background Tomura is pouting too, wanting to tell Izuku his master plan.

“Fine.” She humphs, sitting on her own barstool, sipping on a bloody mary.

“Ugh, I wish I didn’t have to go home.” He whines, there’s about an hour left until he has to leave but he always wants to stay. And Izuku knows he shouldn’t because, even though Toga and Dabi are antiheroes, or vigilantes, Kurogiri, Tomura, and All For One are real villains. Sure it might not have been by choice, but they’ve done bad stuff. He knows this because sometimes he comes to visit, and Tomura is sitting at the bar, head in his hands, shaking violently. The TV monitor goes eerily quiet at those times. Kurogiri always looks like he’s unaffected when this happens but Izuku’s seen him picking up shards of a glass he’s dropped as a result of his hands trembling as he polishes them.

When this happens Izuku sits on the barstool and lets Tomura cry behind his father’s hand shushing him as he apologises, wiping his hands down, cleaning off the cakedon blood, oil, mud, and trying not to breathe in through his nose, hating the scent of copper and burnt flesh. He wears headphones those days, plays his music loud, trying to pretend he can’t hear agonised screams in the other room and telling himself if he can’t see it it’s not real.

He bandages the scratches on Tomura’s neck, it’s not as dry as it used to be before he met Izuku. He tapes up the blue haired man’s fingers, and lets him cry and apologise. Those nights he plays video games with Tomura, Toga and Dabi who don’t cry because they weren’t there, but seem sad all the same. Izuku doesn’t trust the man behind the TV monitor, the one making Tomura and Kurogiri do these things.

Izuku doesn’t think he ever will.

“You don’t have to go home.” Tomura pleads quietly, and there’s a longing in his eyes Izuku can’t quite decipher. It happens a lot actually. Tomura looks at him with softness in his eyes and it confuses him because he doesn’t see that look in anyone else's eyes when they look at him. Is it unique to Tomura? Izuku doesn’t understand it.

So he just ignores it.

“You know I do, Tomura.”

“Yeah, I know.”

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Izuku lies in his bed, it feels too scratchy, too hot, the pillow is touching his neck, he can’t breathe. He can’t sleep. The clock next to his bed reads 4:12 AM, and he can feel it. Something’s going to happen tomorrow.

Eventually the fifteen year old gives up and walks into the living room. He prays to any gods that might exist that Aizawa isn’t in there and that he’s sleeping. The wooden floor boards creak beneath his feet and he flinches when one makes a particularly loud noise.

It’s clear the universe hates Izuku when he immediately sees Aizawa sitting on the couch, his head in his hands, legal documents spread out in front of him, a large mug that has been empty of coffee for a long time next to his foot.

“Aizawa?” He calls out timidly. He knows Aizawa would never hurt him. But he can’t help but remember his father sitting at the coffee table until the wee hours of morning, taxes spread out in front of him as he grumbled angrily about how they had no money. Taxes always lead to fights, arguments where she would scream and throw knives at him because what did he mean they didn’t have enough money? He would yell back and defend himself and be more and more angry and would defend himself from her with whatever it took.

Izuku thinks it’s ironic. His father never defended him.

“Midoriya?” A tired voice calls out. It doesn’t sound angry, but Izuku knows from experience tired can mean angry, tired is dangerous. This is a new person, he can’t predict him as easily as he could Inko or Hisashi.

He doesn’t reply.

Tired is dangerous.

Tired is a game of roulette and he doesn’t want to play.

“I know you’re there, come out.”

Izuku doesn’t reply.

Does he still trust Aizawa?

Why should he trust Aizawa if Aizawa doesn’t trust him?

“Look, problem child. I’m sorry for following you. I shouldn’t have done that and I should’ve trusted you. I trust you now. I saw what you did for those kids and for everyone honestly. You’re a good person Izuku and I trust you.” Aizawa says softly, knowing Izuku is listening. He doesn’t say ‘I know you wouldn’t lie to me, right?’ he doesn’t say ‘But you’re sure you didn’t do…’ like Inko used to do when she apologised.

He sounds sorry.

It’s weird, a new feeling that he wants to dismiss and say is okay, but he’s so fed up of just being okay with things. He wants to ask if he’s telling the truth, if it’s okay for Izuku to not forgive him. Questions are dangerous, questions evolve into interrogations or what Inko used to think was a challenge. So Izuku was always pleasant, always said what she wanted to hear.

“It’s okay.”

Habits are hard to break after all.

“No it’s not okay, I’m really sorry. You don’t have to forgive me now, I just want you to know that I trust you and I won’t do it again okay?” There’s a silent threat. Izuku realises, He’s telling me he trusts me, expects me not to break his trust, he’s making me feel guilty, I though Aizawa wasn’t like her, what if he blows up too, maybe it’s not a threat, maybe I’m just overalaysing things. It’s okay, you can trust Aizawa, he saved you, remember?

Izuku walks into the room, Aizawa is tired and it doesn’t scare him as much as it used to. He sits next to the man, on the other side of the couch, curled into himself, reading the documents despite the lack of sleep trying to force his eyes closed. He doesn’t know why he always sleeps better when he’s touching someone. Maybe because it’s been a while.

Aizawa gives him hugs but Izuku can’t remember the last time Inko touched him and he didn’t want to swat her hand off or duck away or escape because it felt cold and made him feel sick to his stomach and she would ask him,

Where did my cuddly little boy go?

He’d give her a big smile and say he didn’t know, or he would give her a hug and fight the urge to cower or avoid her cold embrace. He wouldn’t say what he was thinking.

I don’t know, I think you killed him.

Because saying what you’re thinking is dangerous, showing weakness or doing anything slightly wrong is dangerous. So Izuku stopped talking as much, stopped touching, did everything they said, tried to say what they wanted, got punished when he guessed wrong.

Izuku adapted and then Aizawa came in, breaking it all into pieces and suddenly everything Izuku taught himself over the years, everything he’s learned, became wrong and he’s never felt so lost.

Chapter 10

Chapter Text

Izuku finds himself on the couch again. It’s morning and Aizawa is still asleep. The sun casts the room in a warm glow and he thinks that this apartment feels more like home than that house ever did.

He eyes the black haired man who is sleeping like a dead person on his respective side of the couch, empty cup of coffee still clasped in his hands greedily. He checks the clock. 6:15 AM. Izuku’s only slept for about two hours but he feels more rested on this ratty couch than he has in quite a few years.

“Hey, Aizawa.” The man lazily blinks his eyes open, Izuku notes in the back of his mind that he’s a light sleeper. Probably the result of being a hero for several years.

“Ugh, Good morning Midoriya, what time is it?” He groans, stretching out like a cat. Izuku hears a few joints popping and winces slightly at the noise.

“‘Mornin’, it’s 6:16.” He replies, yawning slightly. He looks down and sees that he’s still wearing his UA uniform, it’s wrinkled and has a drool stain on it but there’s only about thirty minutes until school starts and there’s no time to fix it.

“sh*t!” Aizawa suddenly shouts. Izuku doesn’t react. He’s used to being yelled at. His muscles tense and his back straightens. He stays rock still. If he moves. He’s going to die. If he moves, he will be hurt. He knows this. Aizawa puts a hand on his shoulder, Izuku flinches this time. Hard.

“Sorry, Midoriya. I’m not angry. I promise. I just remembered something and was careless. You don’t need to be scared.” The long haired man crouches in front of him and Izuku feels himself tearing up. It’s too soon for a hug, and honestly, the greenette isn’t sure if it’s okay for him to touch yet.

But regardless of how awkward it may be, Izuku leans his head on Aizawa’s shoulder. He might like to give him a hug, but he’s not ready. It’s too soon. What if this is too personal? It’s okay for him to do this right?

He lets a tear fall onto the other’s shoulder. He hopes the hero doesn’t notice the wetness but knows he does.

A few minutes of awkward silence later, Izuku raises his head. Not freaked out anymore. Aizawa knows the walk to UA is going to take too long and grabs his car keys as the freckled genius grabs his backpack.

They run out the door, quickly locking all five of the apartment locks, and arming the security system. He unlocks his car and opens the door, five minutes until homeroom starts, if they drive, they’ll make it in time.

Aizawa calls out for Izuku, then looks behind him and slaps himself in the face. He needs to stop assuming, needs to stop forgetting that this is a boy who has faced years of emotional and physical abuse. It’s easy to forget that the fourteen year old has been traumatised more than any child should be when he outsmarts all the staff members on a daily basis.

Izuku is staring at the van with pure fear in his eyes. His face that he usually masks with a practiced expression is wide open. The car is causing this. If Aizawa weren’t a hero he’d go stab Inko Midoriya twenty three times but he is an avid follower of the law.

The UA teacher shoots Nedzu and Nemuri a text saying they’ll be fifteen minutes late. He locks his car and walks away from it, slowly approaching Izuku. Aizawa squats in front of the quirkless boy and notices how his pupils are unfocused and his face is slack.

The kid’s disassociating. Watching from afar. Because he feels like he’s in danger. Shouta curses. He’s a hero dammit! It’s his job to make people feel safe.

Izuku hates cars. They’re dangerous, ticking time bombs. Inko’s favourite place to explode, to release the anger she bottles up and saves especially for him.

She’d drive him home from school. He’d try conversation. A pleasant one, a joking one. Anything to keep the atmosphere light. Don’t slouch, if you do, she’ll ask why. If you tell her you’re tired, she’ll give you more tasks because, what right do you have to be tired when she works her ass off everyday? Izuku’s tired. He’s got burns on his arms, bruises on his knees, and a broken mind.

He’s tired. He wants to rest. Would it be easier to just die at this point?

He wishes he wasn’t alone, wishes he had a sibling. There’s an absence by him, he’d tried to fill it with close friends. Just one, attached to him at the hip. Kacchan was his best friend, the way to fill the void that mocked him every time she screamed at him. Someone he could trust, someone he could talk to. Some way for him to know he wasn’t all alone.

Everytime he entered that cursed van of hers with the tinted windows and the loud engine so nobody could hear her screaming, nobody could see him crying, his stomach ticked in fear. Aizawa opening his car door made that tickle of fear in his stomach return, the stiffness enters into his body again, the burn on his face lighting up with a stabbing pain.

Relief floods through his soul when Aizawa closes the door, and locks the car. He feels a pit of guilt heavy in his stomach when Aizawa mumbles something about being late. It’s his fault. It’s dumb after all, who in their right mind would be scared of cars?

He tries to engage the underground hero in conversation. Asking him questions, actively not talking about himself. Because without constant conversation he can’t help but wonder if he’s doing something by not talking, by not filling the silence, by staying quiet.

Inko’s face flashes in his thoughts and the guilt multiplies tenfold. It’s his fault. She wasn’t actually abusing him, right? She never hit him until the police station. Other people have it worse.

UA’s gates come into view. He pushes the thoughts away for later. It’s time for school. It’s time for him to transform into the ball of sunshine and energy that everyone knows him as. He can’t get tired.

If he’s not smiling, he must be sad.

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School passes by normally. His remaining few classmates don’t approach him and seem to be trying to stay as far away from him as possible. And if Izuku hears whispers about the arrogant quirkless boy in the Management Department, he doesn’t say anything.

He doesn’t really feel like talking to Fumikage at lunch today. It’s horrible, he knows. But the boy is just so boring. Over time, it’s almost as if his personality disappeared. In the beginning, Izuku grew fond of his talk of darkness and his dry sense of humour, but now it’s gone, no trace of the character he had when they first met.

Mei and him manage to convince Shinsou to let them sponsor him in the sports festival after a little blackmail and bribing. He thanks the gods above that he’s living with the purple haired boy’s favourite hero.

And then it’s math. Well, if he was a normal Management Course student, it would’ve been math. But he’s not. According to Aizawa, 1-A is having a field trip to USJ, and since he’s the teacher of Hero Training, All Might being his assistant, he runs to the end of the hall, pausing as the class of 18 sprint in a large crowd towards the locker room to put on their costumes.

He’s excited to see his designs in action, and desperately wishes he could bring Mei with him on this little day trip. Aizawa hands him a clipboard and a grading sheet with an amused smile.

“Where’s All Might? I thought he was going to be my assistant.” Izuku drawls out sarcastically.

“He can’t show up because he went over his limit. I’m sure as his superior, you’ll have a suited penalty for him?” Aizawa prompts. The curly haired boy’s eyes shine as he thinks over all the possibilities, eventually settling for scraping gum off of chairs and desks after school.

Izuku watches as a bossy boy makes the class line up to get on the bus. He checks the class list. Iida Tenya. He’s not even the class president!

“Hey, robot boy. Are you the class president? No? Then you have no authority. This isn’t your job, it’s Yaoyorozu’s. Plus, the bus isn’t even set up like that so it’s pointless.” Izuku scolds as he slams his clipboard on the copycat Ingenium’s head.

Midoriya is sure that if the boy with the stick up his ass didn’t have a helmet on his head he’d be bright red with embarrassment and annoyance.

“Who are you? Are you even in the hero course?” The lickspittle demands.

“I’m your hero studies teacher. It’s a pleasure.” He replies bowing with flourish.

“You’re just a kid though! You can’t be more than 12 years old!” The mumpsimus exclaims in horror.

“Hey, don’t talk like that to your teacher, you chucklef*ck.” Izuku snaps, annoyed that the boy thought he was a 12 year old.

“This is Midoriya Izuku, he is 15 years old and in the business or management course. He will be your hero studies teacher. He made almost all of your costumes. Treat him with respect.” Aizawa announces, glaring at Izuku for cursing. The green eyed boy doesn’t see the glare as he’s too preoccupied slapping away Iida’s air chopping hand.

“Sensei, why is he teaching us? No offense dude, but shouldn’t we be taught by someone with actual experience?” Sero asks, looking slightly confused. Izuku tones out, skipping happily into the crowd of hero students after locating Yaoyorozu, who he immediately engages in a complex conversation about biology.

“If you think he isn’t suited for the job, just know he has more hand to hand combat experience than all of you combined, except for maybe Ojirou. Don’t underestimate him. You’re looking at the boy who consistently beats Nedzu at chess every month.” Aizawa explains looking exasperated. The class immediately looks taken aback because Nedzu is the smartest living creature and this kid beat him?

“OI DEKU! WHAT’S A USELESS LITTLE sh*tTY NERD LIKE YOU DOING HER-” Bakugou starts, hands sparking. Shouta sees the look of fear pass over Izuku’s guarded expression and erases the explosive boy’s quirk.

“Bakugou, if you attack Midoriya, I will not hesitate to expel you.”

“Likewise, also, Kacchan if you say a word about…” Izuku whispers the rest into the blonde boy’s ear. The entire class looks on in amazement as the red eyed boy blanches and nods submissively, looking frightened.

“Now, shall we get on the bus?”

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“Get back! Those are real villains!” Thirteen yells out, their arms spread out in front of the first years protectively.

“Those dumbasses.” Izuku curses underneath his breath. He stomps forward, only to be stopped by a fight ready EraserHead.

“You’re a student too, I’ll be okay.” The underground hero reassures. Izuku wants to stomp his feet in frustration as the other jumps out into the crowd of low level villains.

The greenette quickly stomps out into the crowd, villains start to attack him but before any of them can land a blow they all halt and look at him with surprise. Aizawa, Thirteen, and the entirety of class 1-A watch in awe and horror as they begin giving him friendly hugs and engaging him in friendly conversation.

“Hey, guys stop, it’s Midoriya!” One villain with a voice enhancer quirk calls out. Like a chain reaction, villains emerge from the rescue zones running towards the boy with welcoming looks on their faces.

“Hey! It’s been so long! I remember you! Remember what I said though, no commiting crimes in my presence. Oi, didn’t you say you were studying for law school? WHat are you doing here? Go home now, all of you!” Izuku shooes them off.

There’s a chorus of thank you’s from all of the villains. Thanking him for giving them money when they were stuck on the streets, for bringing in sandwiches to the internet cafes, for helping out at the soup kitchen, for reading them stories in the park when nobody else would, for saving their kids or partners from danger, etc.

The ‘heroes’ all watch in awe as the crowd of at least three hundred villains walk with Izuku to the three authoritative figures in the middle of USJ. Their jaws drop to the floor when one of the men with hands all over his face gives Izuku a hug and talks animatedly with him before dropping to the ground kneeling, while another man opens up a big portal letting all the villains go who knows where, before bowing politely to Izuku.

“We’re here to kill All Might. We didn’t know you go to UA, you never told us!” Tomura whines to the green eyed boy who has his arms crossed.

“Come on Tomura, you know how much I hate All Might, but there’s no reason to do it with all these kids around. I actually like a few of them, and the tired looking man. Go on, shoo! Kill All Might later! I have a class to teach, we can talk later.” Izuku scolds, gesturing to Kurogiri who swallows the tantrum throwing Tomura in a portal before bowing to Izuku in apology and disappearing, leaving USJ free of villains.

“Don’t just stand there! Aren’t we doing rescue training?” The quirkless boy yells while walking back to the entrance where everyone stands frozen in shock.

“Midoriya- How- Do- When-” Aizawa stumbles over his words, wanting to scold the problem child but being both too shocked and relieved to do so.

“Dude, that was so manly! Is your quirk persuasion or something?” A red haired boy named Kirishima asks with stars in his eyes.

“Nope, I just happened to know them.” Izuku explains calmly.

“What is your quirk, kero?” A frog looking girl named Asui asks bluntly.

Izuku just grins and claps his hands before conducting the rescue lesson with Thirteen and Aizawa.

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“Midoriya-”

“Please, I think we know each other well enough to use first names. Call me Izuku.” He says in a pleasant, casual voice.

“Izuku, explanation. Now.” Nedzu demands, his eyes on fire. The greenette recognises that expression. It’s a hungry one. He needs to know, can’t have any uncharted territory. Can’t not know anything. A crazed, primal need to know everything he doesn’t already.

He sighs, what a cruel quirk.

“I just happened to know them.” He says.

“Elaborate.” Nedzu’s beady black eyes bore into him. Izuku won’t crack.

“I’m afraid I don’t get paid enough to even begin to explain. In fact, I don’t get paid at all.” Izuku picks at his nails, the picture of nonchalance.

“That can be arranged.”

“Really?” The freckled boy raises an eyebrow, then leans forward.

“Haven’t I already told you this Nedzu? Everyone owes me. Everyone knows me.” He purrs out mockingly.

“There must be more. That can’t be it.” The albino stoat’s voice is frantic now.

“Honestly Nedzu, I’m just nice to everyone. Who knew it would pay off someday?” He laughs quietly.

The principal of UA is so worked up he brings out the long abandoned chess board and demands they play a game. If Izuku loses he has to tell him everything. If Izuku wins he gets a salary.

Izuku wins the first game, and the next two rematches demanded by Nedzu, gaining a respectable pay.

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“Did I ever tell you you had a twin?” She says it nonchalantly like it’s not a big deal. Izuku is 13 years old. And when he tells Hisashi or Mitsuki, hell, even Kacchan. It’s like it’s a fact. Nobody comforts him or asks him how he feels. Everyone knows and he’s left in the dark even though it was his twin?

Izuku pretends he doesn’t care, pretends it doesn’t affect him. He begins to subconsciously notice how he always latched onto one person as if they were his sibling. Begins to notice how he feels lonely even though he’s an only child. Notices how the void seems to be ever present, since he was a small child.

Still, Izuku doesn’t care, they’re not here now. It doesn’t affect him. Inko’s upset he doesn’t care. But isn’t it not a big deal?

Later that week she tells Izuku he was a mistake. He doesn’t know how to feel about it.

She often said random things. Just brought them up casually with no regard to how he’d feel. Expecting a certain emotion, or reaction, growing angry when it wasn’t the one she wanted.

She looked over his shoulder as he wiped down the kitchen counter. Hisashi was sitting watching television, Inko was standing there talking to him in her threatening voice, lecturing him on how to clean up their mess better.
The plump woman suddenly starts rubbing his back in a way that would’ve been comforting if it wasn’t so cold and didn’t send dread through his veins. Izuku doesn’t jump when she touches him because he knows it’s the wrong thing to do. He doesn’t move away from her touch, he just tries to not react and continues cleaning up the dinner he didn’t even eat.

“Izuku, you’re like a dumb puppy, you’re so loyal. Someone could be mean to you but the moment they’re nice again you come running back. You just lie on your back and take it.” She says suddenly, casually, as if discussing the weather.

He wanted to be angry, wanted to tell her how offensive and dehumanising it was. He even told her it wasn’t very polite to compare him to an animal, but then she’d reply, confused, as if not knowing what she was doing by saying these things.

“But you love puppies, don’t you Izuku?” She’d say, as if that fixed everything.

“Yes.” He’d reply in a defeated, humiliated tone, not wanting to ruin her ‘good’ mood, no matter how much he hated what she’d said to him.

“Yes what?” She prompted, giving him a wide, playful smile, as if she thinks what she’s doing is funny. It’s fake. The prompt a demand. A threat. He grits his teeth, because he feels pure hatred coursing through his veins at the demand she’s making.

“Yes Mommy.” He replies, like a good puppy. Following orders. He hates how he has to call her that, it’s humiliating and he feels like a dumb, small child when he says it. He hates the way it sounds. He hates how he can see why she’d think he’s like a puppy. He’s trained to obey orders.

Hisashi never said anything.

Izuku finally made a friend. A transfer student named with a mutant quirk. It made him look like a lizard. Everyone thought he was weird and called his quirk useless. He was the first person to be nice to Izuku despite him being quirkless since he was four. The only downside was that Spinner had strict parents who wouldn’t let him hang out with anyone outside of school. But Izuku didn’t care.

And he had been so happy. A friend, one that wouldn’t bully him. They would talk during lunch about quirks and heroes and music animatedly. And every night he’d come home, proud to talk about his new friend and tell his parents everything about them. He finally had a friend!

“Izuku, honey. Are you sure Spinner isn’t imaginary?” Inko had asked in a soft voice one night after dinner.

“What?” He’d asked confused as to why she would even think that. Wondering if he’d maybe heard wrong, because who asks that?

“Is Spinner imaginary?” She’d asked again.

The question stayed with him. He couldn’t rid himself of the knowledge that his own mother thought he was so incomptetant and pathetic to make up an imaginary friend. That she didn’t believe him. For months she would ask and ask and try to make him doubt himself, never believing him.

Hisashi never said anything.

So why was he saying something now?

Guilt slithers up Izuku’s spine making him shiver. He sobs into the blanket, trying to ignore the yelling from the other room. For the first time in ten years, Hisashi was acting.

Child Protective Services had been contacted. Izuku doesn’t trust them. He still remembers how they hadn’t believed him. How they’d done nothing. How they’d called his mother to tell her that they’d gotten a report about her.

He still remembers how they failed him. How they dropped his case after a month, leaving him worse off than he was before.

“What do you mean, there isn’t any evidence of abuse? There are at least ten witnesses and video footage of her slapping her child! He has scars all over his arms, Tsukauchi has the report with pictures and the recording of the interrogation, he has a lie detector quirk, of course it’s not false!” Aizawa yells into the phone.

A pause in the noise from outside his room. Izuku turns his music up, trying to focus on the words of the song. Aizawa’s voice continues to slip through, no matter how loud his music is.

“So you’re going to give him custody? What if he’s lying? You need to consult with Detective Tsukauchi! That’s your solution?” The underground hero screams into the phone. Izuku jumps slightly. It’s embarrassing almost, to say he’s been abused. He remembers the silent rule to not tell anyone. Inko and Hisashi had never threatened him to make sure he didn’t tell. They just somehow knew he wouldn’t. Izuku wonders if they had trained him to do that too.

“He said he wasn’t aware of what Mrs. Midoriya was doing? Bullsh*t! He was watching her yell at him when I was there! I saw it happen I- What does young Midoriya being quirkless have to do with this? That is not a reason. How are you going to punish or handle Inko Midoriya? THAT’S NOT ENOUGH. Is there not going to be a court case? No restraining order? I will fight you on this in court.” The tired looking man continues to yell into the phone in an angry voice.

“No, I am not kidnapping a child. I have a license, like all heroes, to temporarily foster a child if needed. You will not be giving him to his father due to the fact that there has not been a court judging. Goodnight.” The underground hero hangs up and holds his head in his hands. Izuku can’t help but feel bad.

He sits in his bed, knees to his chest, shivering. Aizawa is angry. And it’s his fault. Is Aizawa going to yell at him? His muscles stay tense against his will, he tries to keep his breathing slow, can’t seem to get cold. The picture of Inko crying, betrayal heavy in her heart, hurt, because of him, painted in his mind stays with him for hours. Izuku can’t help but wonder if the tears she’s crying because of him look different than the ones she used to cry to hurt him. If the real ones look different than the fakes.

Soon morning arrives. The fourteen year old didn’t sleep a wink last night. The realisation that Aizawa wanted them to take him away from Inko hitting him like a truck. Because it’s guilt, pure guilt. It wracks through his body like a violent sob. He still loves her in a f*cked up way. She didn’t actually abuse him. He’s overreacting, right? It’s his fault anyways. It’s not actually emotional abuse. He’s okay. He still loves her. He shouldn’t have said anything. It’s all his fault.

God, he doesn’t know what he’s doing. School is in an hour. So he does what he does best. He bottles it up. And maybe it doesn’t strike him as weird that even though he bottles up his anger, his sadness, his everything all the time, Hisashi excuses Inko’s anger as her bottling it up and needing to release it sometimes, even though Izuku, who bottles up everything, never explodes. Never takes it out on anyone, or makes them cry like she used to.

The walk to school with Aizawa is excruciatingly silent. The elder still pent up with anger from last night’s phone call, and Izuku not wanting to talk about it because actually talking about his problems with Inko makes him feel sick to his stomach.

The gate to UA looms over him, making him feel small and weak. And he wishes more than anything he didn’t have to be here, at school with no sleep at all, and too much on his mind. BUt why would he miss school for something so trivial? It must be in his head.

Izuku remembers the days he’d be sick, and as a result, miss school for a few days. The first day he missed school, Inko would fawn over him and give him whatever he wanted. SHe’d make him drink water and would stroke his forehead, commenting on how it didn’t feel like a fever. The second day was always the worst. No matter how sick he actually was, she’d accuse him of lying, making him do work, cleaning or reading or doing homework. The third day he’d go back to school no matter how sick he was.

Aizawa shakes his shoulder slightly. He flinches a bit. The teacher offers a skip day. Izuku refuses. What if Aizawa thinks he’s faking.

Izuku’s tired. He slips off his mask of energy and happiness that he’s worn for the past week of school and lets himself be emotionless if only for a second. He quickly puts it back up, the guarded, smiling, carefree, full of energy expression people know him for.

Because it’s easy to hide at school. You just don’t mention it, make it seem trivial, joke about it. Because that’s not part of your personality. Because it’s not important. Because you don’t want to regret saying anything later.

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“Izuku, why didn’t you tell us about all of this?” Kurogiri asks, the boy is sitting at the bar drinking his usual shirley temple.

“You never asked.” He shrugs keeping his face carefully blank and his voice steady.

“So, you would be okay with us killing All Might as long as we didn’t endanger or hurt EraserHead, the brunette with pink cheeks, the ponytail girl, the electric boy, the pink haired crazy girl, the purple haired tired boy, and Endeavor’s son. Anyone else?” Tomura clarifies with a question.

“Not the bird headed boy either. Make sure he doesn’t get hurt” Izuku mumbles out, a bit annoyed, but still conscious enough to make sure he doesn’t endanger the boy.

“Okay, wait no, how about if we- then what if we-” Twice starts.

“No planning out illegal activities or planning out crimes of any sort while I’m around. Or else I’ll have been aware of your plans and be an accomplice and we won’t be able to hang out anymore!” He shouts in a slightly angry tone.

“Geez dude, chill. We’re not going to attack the Sports Festival or anything like that yet.” Dabi says calmly.

“Good, cause I have a plan for the Sports Festival and if any of you mess it up I will kill you.”He thunks his head on the wooden countertop, bringing it back up with a disgusted look on his face.

“Kurogiri, why is it sticky?” He asks, gagging. The portal quirked man frantically wets a cloth with warm water and wipes down the counter.

“Hey, Izuku look here.” A scratchy voice beckons from the seat to his left. Tomura is holding another wet cloth out for him.

“Is it on my forehead?” The green eyed boy whines, grabbing the cloth and rubbing at his face.

“You missed it.” Tomura says, Izuku rubs all over his face but apparently it’s still not off.

“Ugh, just do it for me. Please?” he asks the blue haired man, pouting.

Tomura pats his pants with fur fingers, searching for his tape. Izuku watches as he fails to find a roll with slight amusem*nt.

“It’s fine, just use four fingers, Tomura.” The freckled boy says, tossing the man the damp cloth, who catches it with three fingers.

“What if I hurt you?” It’s a whispered mumble, not meant for anyone’s ears but his. Immediately Izuku’s face softens.

“You won’t.” After a second of hesitation, Tomura gently rubs at Izuku’s nose and forehead, wiping off the (according to Kurogiri who looked very apologetic and quite confused) maple syrup.

Tomura uses three fingers to hold the cloth and tucks the other two in. Four fingers is just too risky. He fears he might take away the boy who is like the sun. With just a touch he could tear him away from everyone.

“See? It was fine!” Izuku shouts out. The anger that was in his voice almost completely gone, now replaced with pride and happiness.

“Shigaraki Tomura, we have a possible recruit.” Kurogiri interrupts their little moment hesitantly, but with a bit of urgency in his voice.

“Let him in.” Tomura grumbles, looking away from the ray of sunshine known as Midoriya Izuku, face slightly flushed.

“Stainy!” Toga screeches out, her cheeks pink with excitement. Izuku chuckles fondly as he remembers how she told him the Hero Killer is her motivation, and why she became a villain. She believes she can be a villain who does good, or even a borderline vigilante.

“What is your goal?” Stain ignores her fawning, immediately accusing Tomura of ill intentions. Izuku frowns, he doesn’t need to be so impolite. Toga looks up to him so much and he can’t even spare her a second glance?

“To kill All Migh-” Tomura starts, intending to have a villainous monologue, until Izuku tugs on his sleeve.

“No planning villainous activities or committing crimes in my presence.” Izuku reminds. Tomura’s mouth promptly closes into a pout.

“All Might is the only true hero!” Stain declares, having heard the first part of Tomura’s statement before he’d shut up.

Everyone in the bar except for Toga and the man of the hour shoots Stain a glare. Even the number one fan, Himiko, looks apprehensive.

“Hm. You might be fast, but the police are actively searching for you, you’ll probably die of natural causes in jail or get killed by someone you underestimated. The way you move is a pattern and is completely predictable. It’s only a matter of time until you get caught. Plus, given the fact that your quirk depends on blood type, ah yes the look on your face confirms my suspicions, if you fight a group of people with different blood type you will definitely get overwhelmed. It’s going to happen sooner or later and you won’t die by All Might’s hand. Against a group of three or more, you’re doomed. It’s a miracle you haven’t gotten HIV yet. You’re just a ticking time bomb. I estimate one month, tops until someone captures or kills you. So, I ask you, Chizome Akaguro, are you sure about that?” Izuku asks in a low voice, the anger that had dissipated now again present.

“I swear on God, I will only let All Might kill me!” The sword wielding man announces with great pride in his voice, completely ignoring everything Izuku just said. Toga looks anywhere but Izuku.

“How about you, Toga-chan? Would you like to swear on your imaginary friend as well?” Izuku sneers.

The meeting goes quickly after that. Stain gets offended because of what the fluffy haired boy said and goes to attack him. Immediately, Tomura disintegrates his sword, and Toga swipes all of his other blades off of him, wielding them with more experience than anyone else in the room, including the man who specialises in blades, Dabi holds his blue fire up uncomfortably close to the Hero Killer’s face, Twice, creates clones that hold him down, and Kurogiri threatens to open up a portal to Tartarus. Stain declares that he won’t be working with the league, everyone explains why they hate All Might, Stain leaves after blindly trying to convince himself they’re lying.

“I’m sorry that your idol is such a dick Toga.” Dabi speaks up after a moment of silence.

“It’s okay, I’ll just get a new one.” She says, her voice sad, but determined.

“Sorry, I was a bit harsh Toga-chan. I didn’t mean to be that mean. I got carried away.” Izuku walks up with his head hung low. She bursts into a big, watery smile and hugs him, telling him he’s forgiven and everything is okay.

“Let’s play Twister!” She pulls the cursed game out of nowhere and giggles when everyone in the room groans. Begrudgingly they all accept and stand on the mate that is much too small for all of them.

“Kurogiri isn’t allowed to play and he’s not allowed to help.” Toga announces. The portal user sits down next to the spinner and if he had a mouth, Izuku thinks he’d be pouting. A whine sounds from Tomura who was planning on using the younger to his advantage.

“Left hand on red.” Kurogiri says, and unbeknownst to him, starts leading up to the fall of Tomura.

“Right foot on yellow.” A loud curse is heard, then a thump, indignant cries from Dabi and Izuku who get crushed, and finally, the rustling of the mat as Tomura crashes to the ground.

“Tomura’s out.” Kurogiri announces, suppressing what sounds like a laugh. The pale haired man shoots him a glare and sits on a bar stool to watch. Izuku laughs, making sure his hands and feet are still in place. He’ll be damned if he doesn’t win this overly competitive game of Twister.

Twice is out next due to not deciding which dot to put his right hand on. He blames it on Toga for tickling him and then declares that he is at fault before leaving the room holding his head.

Toga gets disqualified after biting Dabi’s wrist when he was reaching over her. Soon after Dabi is out after lifting his affected hand from the blue dot.

The night finishes up with a victorious Izuku and a rematch that ends in a tangled up pile of limbs and bright laughter.

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It occurs to Izuku that he has no idea how to talk to Fumikage. Well, it’s not that surprising given the fact that he doesn’t really like to talk to the bird headed boy but it’s still something he needs to work on.

But with the Sports Festival rapidly approaching he doesn’t get the chance to talk to Fumikage and make up for the fact that he’s been really sh*tty to him. It makes it all worse in fact. He continues to do volunteer work with the boy but he seems to be actively avoiding or ignoring him.

Izuku thinks he deserves it.

For the next two weeks, he works until the wee hours of morning with Mei to make babies for both her and Shinsou to advertise.

“While there may be a rule against support students supplying hero course students with support items even if they made it themselves, there’s none against management course students making a support item for a hero course student. Technically.” Izuku says smugly, as he reads through the rulebook. Mei squeals excitedly. Shinsou smirks at him.

“Aren’t management students in charge of the betting? Like brackets and stuff?” Shinsou asks, an evil gleam in his eyes. Izuku meets it with an equally mischievous look on his face.

“Yes, yes we are.” The greenette confirms.

“So, if hypothetically, a management student won the entire thing, they’d get a lot of money?” Mei chimes in.

“Actually, we’re supposed to make our own brackets which we enter for a grade depending on how accurate it is. Basically we’re required to make bets. So yes, hypothetically if a management student who specialises in analysis made a perfectly accurate bracket and won every bet, they’d make a lot of money. This is hypothetical of course.” He grins.

“Yes, completely hypothetical.” Shinsou and Mei agree.

The less fun part of this preparation is the three straight days leading up to the event they fill out extensive paperwork for her babies to be registered for the event.

All the planning takes up so much time he’s able to forget about Inko and Hisashi sometimes. At night he has trouble sleeping due to the worries piling up and the angry phone calls Aizawa has with CPS.

Finally it’s the day before the Sports Festival. Mei is staying behind to finish one last baby for herself. He walks out the back doors of the UA building. This way is less crowded and it gives him a chance to be alone and miss the ending bell rush.

He sighs. He’s tired, and stressed out. The court case is scheduled for next week and he hasn’t really had time to think about it. God forbid he actually talk to anyone about it though.

The green haired boy walks slowly, he hears the quick footsteps approaching him and ignores them. What are the chances they would be chasing after him anyways?

Tokoyami sees a familiar flash of green curly hair, bidding farewell to his homeroom teacher and walking with his hands resting on the straps of his yellow backpack at the gate entrance to UA. Hatsume is nowhere to be seen, an unusual occurrence he is going to take full advantage of.

“Izuku, can we talk?” He pants out, a bit tired from having to catch up to his ‘friend’.

“I actually have to go somewhere Fumikage, sorry. Maybe later?” Izuku has an apologetic smile on his face and Fumikage can’t help but notice how tired the boy looks.

“Please, Izuku, it will only take but a moment of your time.” The slightly taller boy stops and turns around at this.

“Okay, hit me.” The green eyed boy has a blank expression on his face. It’s so strikingly different that the ever energetic and cheerful boy he thought he knew.

“Do you actually want to be my friend?” Fumikage holds his breath, he said it. He asked the million dollar question.

“Do I actually want to be your friend?” Midoriya winces, rookie mistake, when someone repeats a question it’s obvious they’re lying and trying to make more time to think up an excuse. “Of course I do, don’t be silly!”

“Really? Because everytime I talk to you, you push me away or give me short answers and I can tell you like Hatsume more than me. Have you known each other longer? We’ve been volunteering together for a couple of years now but this ‘friendship’ hasn’t progressed at all. And I honestly love being your friend and being in your presence and keeping you company but I will not stay around if I’m not wanted, Izuku.” He manages to say what’s on his mind.

“Fumikage I-” Izuku’s blank expression melts into one of sadness, guilt, and regret as he reaches out to the other slightly shorter boy who ducks out of reach

“Please call me Tokoyami.” He says in an ice cold voice.

Midoriya feels a pain in his stomach because it feels like a kick in the gut to be demoted like that.

“Tokyami, Mei and I just have spent more time together, I’m sorry you felt like that. I realise I was being a sh*t, I’m so sorry. Here, I’ll cancel my thing I had to do and we can go get some din-”

“Midoriya,” He winces at the formal addressing. “Please stop.”

“What?” Izuku asks, heavy regret seeping into his voice.

Tokoyami walks ahead of the green haired boy and looks back at him with downcast eyes. They’re filled with pain and Izuku realises dimly that the boy is about to cry.

“Pity doesn’t suit you.”

Chapter 11

Chapter Text

“Okay, now two shots of vodka, okay perfect. Izuku, stop. Midoriya. Stop. No more. STOP! Okay, now shake it. And pour, and garnish…. And done! Dabi! M- Izuku made you a drink!” Kurogiri shouts out to the scarred man, as if he hadn’t been micromanaging him just a few seconds ago.

“How much vodka did you put in here, Izuku?” Dabi questions after simply sniffing the drink. The greenette just shrugs. Then the fire quirk user chugs it down in one go and gives him a smile. “Kurogiri, I want Izuku to decide how much vodka goes in my drinks from now on.” He stumbles. “Perfect amount, kid.” Izuku gets a slightly crispy pat to the head before the taller passes out.

“I thought I told you Dabi’s drinks have to be less than 70% alcohol or else it can catch on fire.” Kurogiri scolds the greenette who is pretending to be occupied with making yet another bloody mary for Toga.

“Order up!” Izuku yells cheerfully. “I’ve always wanted to do that, here’s your drink Toga-chan!” He hands her the cup which she greedily chugs.

“‘Zuku-chan, why aren’t you drinking anything?” Toga questions, stirring her crink with a bendy straw. He stands there quiet for a second. Guilt pools in his stomach. How dare he be here? Having a good time and laughing and smiling, when he was so horrible to Tokoyami? The fourteen year old forces a not so fake smile on his face and turns to the blonde.

“I am!” Izuku holds up a shirley temple proudly. “I don’t drink alcohol because I’m a minor, and I don’t want to break the law because then I’ll owe the police.” He scowls as he finishes his thought. He doesn’t want to owe anyone.

“Tomura! What can I getcha?” Izuku sings out as the pale man enters the bar, not wearing his signature hand on his face on account of the steamy weather

“So Kurogiri finally caved and taught you bartending, huh? I’ll have a beer.” Tomura says, sighing as he sits in a barstool next to a completely wasted Dabi. Izuku wilts but quickly uncaps a beer and hands it to the elder.

“Anyone got a pen?” Toga suddenly asks. Kurogiri opens up a portal in front of her, leading to some poor random office worker’s desk which she snatches a pink highlighter from. The blonde uncaps it with a pop and gingerly flips Dabi so as to not wake him up when he's facing her.

And if the eldest Todoroki wakes up with a neon mustache, glasses, and signature Harry Potter scar, Toga knows nothing of how it occurred.

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“Hey, you ready for the sports festival, Izuku?” Mei winks, he spares a glance at Shinsou who looks like he’s going to be sick.

“I’m pumped! I’m going to win!” Uraraka shouts with an unusual amount of determination on her face.

“Are you gonna participate, Midoriya? I heard management course students don’t have to.” Yaoyorozu asks with a tilt of his head.

“Uh huh!” Izuku nods vigorously through a bite of food. Thoughts of Tokoyami lingering in the back of his mind.

“Well, good luck everybody! Seeya out on the field!” Kaminari waves goodbye as the bell rings, signaling the end of lunch as they file out into their respective classrooms.

“For those of you not participating in the event, please submit an essay on who you believe will get the most nominations from hero agencies and why! Now, listen closely as I explain the betting procedure.” Nemuri starts. Izuku looks around the classroom. Out of his seven remaining classmates, only two others are competing as indicated by their gym uniform.

“Now, since we have so few of you competing and nobody really expects you to compete, those of you who are will be running out with class 1-C, General Education. Betting will take place during the creak, after they announce the one on one matchups. The way it will be scored is on the back of the sheets. Due to the fact you are management students, I encourage you to bet if you have money, and find other people willing to bet. Put your advertising skills to use. That’s it! Those of you competing please join class 1-C, those of you not, follow me to the student seating.” She lets out a breath, all of his classmates look excited for the betting, it’s a special privilege extended only to Management Course students.

Izuku walks with his two classmates who are only here because they didn’t want to write an essay to 1-C, the class is in an uproar. It makes sense though, General Education is typically filled with students who didn’t get into the Hero Course and want to be moved up. The Sports Festival is the only chance they’ll get and it’s infamously hard. The only person to ever succeed was Aizawa.

“Hey.” Izuku nudges Shinsou who wasn’t that hard to find given the wide berth people are giving him, as if his quirk is contact activated.

“Hey, you nervous?” The purple haired boy looks nervous but excited. He’s got an evil glint in his eye.

“Nope,” Izuku pops the p, “but you are. Loosen up!” He massages the boy’s shoulders and follows as Present Mic leads his class to the arena.

The tunnel they’re in is dark, stuffy, hot, and smells like sweat and axe. Izuku wants to submit a suggestion for vents to Nedzu. Present Mic is long gone, now announcing the 1-A class’ entrance with flourish.

“We’re only here to make the hero course students look good.” He hears a few people grumble, the rest nodding in agreement. Izuku thinks it’s the other way around.

He’s here to make the hero students look bad. He makes eye contact with Shinsou who is only wearing two out of his fifty personalised babies. The voice changer with the built in directional speaker, inspired by his own homeroom teacher, and the rolling shoes. They’re got built in wheels but also good grips, optimal for running.

Izuku’s wearing…..nothing except his gym uniform. He’s going to win this without any help. Prove to the world he isn’t useless and is perfectly capable as a quirkless person. Nobody’s really asked about his quirk, and those who do know are sworn to secrecy.

Finally Midnight announces class 1-C, General Education. He keeps his face blank as he walks out into the arena, just a little bit annoyed she didn’t mention her own homeroom class.

Wow. What a crowd. He feels a little bit nervous when he sees just how many people are watching him but immediately gets over himself when he realises they’re looking at literally everyone but him.

Bakugou goes up onto the platform and Izuku thanks and gods that may exist that he convinced Nedzu to not put the highest scorer of the written exam up on the podium too.

“I’m gonna win.”

That. Bitch.

Izuku wants to ram his fist into his childhood friend’s smug, angry face but remembers the low profile he’s supposed to be keeping. He challenges everyone he can see with his two eyes to underestimate him. Just try it.

And no surprise, per usual the first event is an obstacle course. He grins. They’ll probably accept the first forty or so and then do some sort of team activity. Honestly, how skewed towards the hero course can this thing be?

Izuku stands near the front of the crowd and smirks as Midnight signals to start. He hears a crackle of ice and jumps as high as he can. The green haired boy makes direct eye contact with the heterochromatic boy who looks slightly irked at the fact that someone outside of his classmates managed to predict his movements.

As Todoroki moves ahead, Izuku follows closely behind, making sure the other is aware of his presence, wanting to bother him as much as possible. Robots are ahead of him, zero pointers that loom over his head. He hears cursing and shouting and loud pops of explosions quickly approaching.

Izuku takes four steps forward after being informed that the machines will collapse shortly. If he’s calculated everything correctly then it should work out. The boy glances over his shoulder as the robots begin to creak and crash to the ground, his piercing green eyes making direct contact with the bristly blonde’s red ones.

“Hey Kacchan.”

The robots crash to the ground.

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Izuku can hear the audience mumbling confusedly and he smiles innocently at a hidden camera. The pathway is covered in robot machinery, blocking everyone’s path and nearly crushing at least ten people.

And he was standing in the middle of all of it yet…. He remains untouched. A square foot of space that narrowly avoids any debris from the crash that he stands in, completely safe, and able to move on in.

Even Todoroki has paused in his hurry to look at him with a blank expression. However Izuku inwardly tuts at the boy. His eyes are far too expressive to hide anything. He’d know.

And so, the greenette jogs forward at a leisurely pace, coming across the second obstacle. A pit that has ropes leading to small islands of varying heights. There’s about nine or ten feet of open space with only a rope available to aid them.

Perfect, that’s how far an average person can jump if they try hard enough. Except Izuku isn’t average. He jumps easily from island to island, getting slightly out of breath towards the end and both blessing and cursing the fact he didn’t exercise more the night before due to his now sore legs.

He reaches the other side and sees a slow moving Todoroki Shouto. A minefield. The ice user could easily cross it by making an ice bridge of sorts but likely doesn’t want to aid other contestants and has settled for walking slowly through the mines.

Once again, Izuku hears the pops of explosions, withe added crazed laughter of Hatsume Mei. Both of them halt when they see the minefield and carefully move through, looking sullen that they can’t easily bypass this obstacle.

And Izuku wants to slap the f*ck out of the three people ahead of him because how dumb can you get? He walks to the far left and eyes the ten foot tall wall coated in spikes and oil as to discourage people climbing on it. He just looks at it for a second and inwardly thanks himself for doing that dumb desk floating exercise during all his classes.

He grabs one spike and is pleasantly surprised to find it’s not as slippery as he’d anticipated. He silently berates Nedzu for making it too easy and uses the spikes on the wall to quickly climb up onto the top of the tunnel roof that’s just past the minefield and wipes his greasy and sweaty hand on his gym uniform. He sees Katsuku and Todoroki now deciding they don’t give a f*ck and racing ahead as quickly as they can with no regards to how they’re aiding other competitors or setting off mines as to bypass him and get first place.

The green haired boy ponders for a second. On one hand, if he gets first place, he can team up with Mei and Shinsou to gain possible sponsors for Hatsume Industries, but it will likely put a target on his head because of the excess amount of points they’ll award him. He nods resolutely as he comes to a decision and walks with his hands in his pockets leisurely to the finish line, chuckling at the curses of both competitive boys behind him as they realise there’s no way they can pass him even if he’s moving at a snail's pace.

And with that, Midoriya Izuku jumps off of the tunnel of the roof and walks through the finish line, awkwardly dragging the ribbon he was meant to tear through along with him. He hears a confused but still enthusiastic YEAAHHHHHH from Present Mic and a huff of pride from Eraser Head and smiles, sitting on the ground, fiddling with the ribbon while he waits for everyone else to finish.

Unsurprisingly, Todoroki finishes second and Katsuki third by a hair. The youngest Todoroki seems to be watching the explosive boy with something akin to respect before sending a cold glare Izuku’s way.

He ignores the deadly looks he’s getting from the two powerful quirked boys and watches the tunnel exit with anticipation. Shinsou better get out next.

In a twist of events, it’s actually Uraraka who gets out next, having floated easily over both the pit of doom and minefield, albeit throwing up quite a few times. She emerges from the tunnel getting a warm announcement of her placing by Present Mic and a surprised but sarcastic commentary from her homeroom teacher and Ah- there he is.

Shinsou rolls out of the tunnel with a deadpan expression on his face. He immediately disables his shoes and walks over to Izuku with an apologetic grimace and a congratulatory high five.

“Hey, don’t feel bad! Show them what you’re made of in the one on ones! I’m pretty sure the next event is a team one, wanna work together?” Izuku asks, effectively cheering up the tired looking teen who looks extremely thankful to even be here.

Mei gets seventh place, coming just barely after Asui who bypassed the minefield in a similar way to Izuku.

Yaoyorozu gets tenth, Tokoyami gets twenty third, and Kaminari gets thirtieth. Izuku notes that one of his two fellow classmates gets through the obstacle course and lands herself in thirty ninth place. She’s the one who designed Kaminari’s respectable hero costume. He’ll have to keep an eye out for her.

He curses the fact that Midnight never made his class introduce their quirks in the beginning of the year, likely due to the fact that Izuku doesn’t have one, as if he cared at the time. Rumours of him not having one spread through their small class and he began to enjoy the fact that he didn’t tell them as they now think his quirk is spontaneously producing chocolate chips from dark spaces.

As the forty second person finishes the obstacle course, nearly half an hour later, (it’s a sparkly french boy) Midnight announces the cutoff and Izuku winces as the forty third person emerges from the tunnel with a defeated expression on their face.

The R-rated hero raises her whip to point at the ‘totally random event chooser’ wheel which, as predicted, lands on a team category. Cavalry battles. Izuku eyes the board that tells how many points they have and feels a shiver as everyone’s attention turns to him when it’s announced that he is worth ten million points. Mei however, is looking at him with stars in her golden eyes.

Yep, he was right to get first place. The attention will be good for business. Shinsou also looks relieved he has a presecured spot on Izuku and Mei’s team. Probably due to the fact everyone thinks he’s a villain save for their lunch group.

“We need one more person. None of us have combative quirks and Mei only has so many babies to aid us. We need someone who would give us a good defense due to the fact we have no need to steal others’ headbands, though we should, just in case. Tokoyami would be perfect but...” Izuku mumbles to himself. Shinsou overhears the last sentence and perks up. Tokoyami is a cool guy. Sure, he’s got about no personality around Izuku, which results in the two not meshing well, but the purple haired boy feels a connection with the other. They both have experienced prejudice against having a villain or scary quirk.

“Hey Tokoyami! Do you want to join our team?” He picks out the bird headed boy easily. He’s standing alone, looking sullen. The other looks up to him like he hung the stars in the sky before his face darkens.

“Is Izu-Midoriya on your team?” Dark shadow hovers over him, pouting as much as a sentient bird shadow demon can.

“Yeah. Is that a problem?” Shinsou asks, suddenly feeling defensive of his friend. Sure, he likes Tokoyami, but if the other has it out for Izuku, he knows whose side he’ll take.

The crow headed boy ponders over the offer for a minute before nodding hesitantly. They walk back over to Izuku who is watching them with his unsettlingly blank expression.

“Tokoyami said he’ll join our team.” Shinsou announces. Mei perks up and begins questioning the poor boy who gets flustered when she asks to make him babies.

Izuku and Fumikage make tense eye contact for a brief second before the slightly taller boy speaks up.

“I want to apologise for being a bad friend. I know this doesn’t make up for what I’ve done and I understand if you no longer want to see me. If that’s the case I respect it. I promise we will win this with you on our team.” Izuku vows, looking at Tokoyami with great intensity in his green eyes. The quirked boy looks back at him blankly for a second before nodding silently. Midoriya sighs in relief before analysing all their quirks and how they should utilise them in this event to mainly protect their headband and hopefully take a few others just to be safe.

“Mei, you use your quirk to keep an eye out for people planning long range attacks, Shinsou, watch for short range attacks and goad them into talking to you but be subtle about your quirk, pretend it’s touch based or something to throw them off and give you an advantage in the one on ones. Mei, you need to be incharge of all your babies and assign us with the ones you think suit us best. I’ll help with that too. Fum-T-To-Tokoyami, use Dark Shadow to protect us from any close range attacks and cover our blind spots. If possible, use him to deflect any close range attacks we can’t avoid. Are you trained in hand to hand combat? No? Hmmm. Talk to Mei about some combative babies you can use so we can utilise your body along with Dark Shadow.” Izuku instructs professionally, cursing underneath his breath as he stumbles over the sentient quirk user’s name.

“Hey, I’ve been meaning to ask you this, Midoriya. What’s your quirk?” Shinsou asks curiously. Mei tunes in briefly. She’s asked the question before and probably just realised that he deflected it. Tokoyami looks anywhere but his teammates, already knowing the boy is quirkless after their introduction all those years ago when he first started volunteering.

Izuku thanks whatever deity is watching over him that Tokoyami doesn’t hate him enough/is a kind enough person/ is an actually decent person who knows boundaries and doesn’t reveal his secret. The greenette thinks for a second about the pros and cons of telling them. Doubts about them using it to hurt him, hating him, leaving him, being like his parents prickle in the back of his mind. He reminds himself that these are not adults or teachers. He then realises he is a teacher, he hates teachers. He dismisses the thought with reassuring himself that he’ll be the teacher he never had and leaves it for him to have a panic attack over later.

“I’m actually quirkless.” He reveals. They all widen their eyes. Shinsou and Mei in shock and Tokoyami in surprise that Izuku actually admitted it. Izuku looks at the ground, feeling ashamed for something he can’t control.

“If you have a problem with that then you can leave. You have no right to revel in darkness with us.” Tokoyami suddenly speaks up. Izuku widens his eyes because this is unexpected. He hurt Tokoyami so much, but he’s actually defending him? And what’s with the way he’s talking? THe greenette remembers how the bird headed boy used to say things like that all the time and he thought it was hilarious and intriguing until he gradually stopped and nothing about him was able to draw him in anymore.

Izuku feels something in his chest as he stands near Tokoyami for the first time since the other suppressed his personality. Excitement, curiosity, happiness. He wants to be Tokoyami’s friend.

“Nope, I don’t have any issue with it. Clearly it doesn’t hinder him in any way. Given the fact that he easily got first place in the past event.” Shinsou says blandly as if the idea of having a problem with someone being quirkless is revolting. Understanding and compassion shines in his eyes. He thinks of how he was bullied for a villainous quirk and used to wish he was quirkless until he saw quirkless people are treated in their world. Saw the statistics. How 90% of quirkless people commit suicide before they reach the age of 20. How the 20% of the population is quirkless but in reality about 10% of that 20 is under the age of fifty.

“Why would we have a problem with it?” Mei asks in a disgusted voice at Tokoyami. She’s clearly appalled that the others would even think she’d turn away from Izuku for something so trivial. When this boy is the biggest challenger she’s had since she was six and built a microwave for the first time. She knows how smart he is.

The quirkless boy gives them all a watery smile before making them promise not to tell.

“I want to see how long I can convince my class that I spontaneously produce chocolate chips as my quirk.” He says in a deadpan voice. The other three stare at him incredulously.

“Midoriya, I am but a simple mortal compared to the depths of your dark soul.” Tokoyami says with a completely straight face. Shinsou snorts.

“I hate to break this up, but there are six minutes left and I have yet to show you all my babies!” Mei shouts excitedly. Izuku lights up and helps her explain and choose who to equip with what. She rambles on about how any support item would work with him as he has no quirk they would need to be wary of. Eventually, they’re all covered in machinery with a bold stamp slapped on it that read Hatsume Industries ™.

“I know this is a personal question and you don’t have to answer, but I need to ask each of you how much you can lift and then how much you weigh.” Izuku says seriously as the timer on the screen beeps, alerting them that there are only two minutes left.

“I can lift about 182 kg and weigh 65 kg.” Izuku starts out. They stare at him for a second before recovering. The boy is only 5’3, probably due to stunted growth as a result of his quirklessness. Tokoyami will soon outgrow him. He is lean but has lots of muscle and is clearly very strong. Shinsou feels a pang of regret for not training his body more. Izuku had lectured him earlier about relying too much on his quirk, Tokoyami would get a similar one soon.

“I can lift about 66 kg and weigh 62 kg.” Tokoyami pipes up. “Dark Shadow doesn’t weigh anything and can lift 180 kg in this amount of light, maybe 200 if it gets cloudy, but I estimate over 1000 kg in total darkness, though I haven’t tested that very much.”

“I can lift 56 kg and weigh 80 kg.” Shinsou says nonchalantly. He’s the tallest one in their group, towering over all of them by a fairly great margin. Izuku gives him a look, that is screaming that he can lift more than what he’s saying, given his height.

“I can lift 100 kg and weigh 59 kg.” She says proudly. Having lifted engines and metals to build her babies aiding her muscle gain.

Izuku thinks it over for a second. They would typically like to have the one who weighs the least as the rider, but since Mei is so strong, would it be better for her to be a horse? Well, since she’ll be battling people off from grabbing the headband, maybe she’ll be able to evade and counterattack. She’s got insane grip strength and Izuku knows she’s not below crushing a few people’s hands if it benefits her. It works out perfectly, she can also use her babies to fly up in the air without their added weight to avoid attacks and Izuku can use the grappling hook he has to bring her back without her touching the ground, it will also make it easier for her to activate, aim, and just use her babies in general.

“Okay, here’s the plan.” Izuku starts, there are thirty seconds left, they need to arrange their positions. “Mei will be the rider since she weighs the least and will have a greater range to attack and use her babies with her free hands. Tokoyami you take the back so Dark Shadow can guard our blind spots and since you can lift more than Shinsou, plus you’re wearing the good rocket boots so it’ll be more distributed when we try to go up. Shinsou you take her left, but go closer to the front so you can talk to more people and use your right hand, since it’s your dominant to hold her up as much as you can manage, don’t worry I’ll carry most of her weight, and use your left to touch people when you use your quirk or do something of the sort. I’ll take the right side and carry most of the weight because I’m left handed and Mei’s right handed so she’ll likely shift her weight onto me and when using babies it will put more pressure on me, but I am able to carry it easily. Sound good?” They all nod as the timer starts counting down from ten.

Izuku notes that almost every group is angled towards them, ready to attack. He analyses the groups and how they will utilise their quirks to be prepared. Shinsou, Tokoyami, and him stand in a triangle and Mei uses her bounce boots to jump on top, shifting so she’s secure and stable enough to utilise her babies. Izuku makes sure the headband is tied firmly on her forehead and yells out to the other horses which way they’re going to run as the timer beeps and Midnight yells go.

“Left!” They veer left as almost all the groups chase them. Fifteen minutes. They have fifteen minutes to try and evade attacks on their precious 10,000,460 point headband.

A pink tongue emerges from in between Shouji’s arms and tries to snatch the headband. Mei grabs it in her hand and squeezes it hard, discouraging them from trying that again.

“Todoroki has Iida, Yayorozu, and Kaminari as his horses. Watch out for Yaoyorozu making a metal pole or insulation blanket of some sort. They will try to electrocute us. Mei, do you have a chargeable baby? Also watch out for Iida, he will most likely use some sort of special move that will let him move quickly enough to snatch our headband. Try to dodge because it will most likely stall his engines or have a harmful effect on him.” Izuku analyses their biggest threat aloud to his team who nods.

Mei hands him two chargeable babies. They’re batteries are full. They need to be empty and used. She hands him two charger cords which he plugs into each baby. One is a heat gun that will be useful against Todoroki. The other is a freeze gun, which will be useful against Katsuki.

They’re supposed to replicate Todoroki’s quirk. Izuku helped her build these a week or two ago. He sighs and holds up the freeze gun as Katsuki’s team approaches them.

He inwardly praises his childhood tormentor’s choice in teammates. He has four horses, which is more than anyone else, but honestly is more useful, though has the potential for slowing them down due to the fact that they must coordinate with more people.

Uraraka, Ashido, Sero, and Kirishima hold up the prideful blonde. Izuku aims the freeze ray at the explosive boy’s palms with a grimace. He’s wasting power, he knows, but in the end it’s what he has to do.

“Kacch- Katsu- f*ck it I’m just calling him Kacchan, it’ll piss him off. He has Uraraka who is likely making their clothes weightless and will probably use it on Kacchan if needed or to catch us if we go in the air. He also has Ashido who can use her acid to melt Todoroki’s ice, as well as ours. Though the freeze gun will stall his sweat, it’s less effective if she melts it. However, Mei uses the freeze gun on Kacchan’s hands as much as possible. If he can’t sweat, he can’t use his quirk. Sero will most likely retrieve him if he uses his explosions or Uraraka. He’ll also use it to try and snatch our headband. Use the heat gun to melt the sticky substance on the bottom or set it on fire so he can’t grab it. Kirishima is probably going to be used to brace his falls when they catch him, a makeshift battering ram, and a way to break Todoroki’s ice. He’ll also be the one doing most of the defense so if you try and snatch their headband do it from Uraraka’s side.” The greenette instructs his team.

“Right, then stay in one spot until the last moment so they all crash into each other and get knocked down. Use that time to steal some headbands.” He speaks in a low voice to his team as the sprint towards an open space. As predicted, about a dozen teams run at full speed towards them from all directions.

“Wait for my signal.” Katsuki’s explosions get dangerously close and the telltale crackle of Todoroki’s ice is right behind them. Tokoyami almost starts his rocket boots early, but the business student puts his hand on his shoulder, stopping him. “Wait, hold it, ready? And…… NOW!” Izuku screams. Tokoyami activates his rocket boots, which according to Mei and Izuku are the best ones because they’ve been modified the most. Mei activates her rocket boots on the lowest setting to avoid weighing them down more.

And like clockwork, everyone crashes into each other, almost everyone being knocked down. The freckled boy hands Shinsou the heat gun and instructs him to use it whenever anyone gets close and to drain its battery as much as possible.

Tokoyami disables his rocket boots and Dark Shadow travels far away from its source, collecting headbands from unsuspecting teams. Shinsou gets one from a 1-B girl with oddly large hands, Izuku steals two from a snarky blonde boy from 1-B as well.

They check the scoreboard. Only six teams still have points. Eight minutes left. They’re still in number one. Dark Shadow bats away Asui’s tongue and the 1-B girl’s hand. A purple haired girl from Support tries to sneak up on them, she’s wearing a shiny jetpack that succeeds in catching Shinsou’s eye.

“What are you doing?” He asks in a fake confused voice. She furrows her brow in confusion. Quickly, the boy with gravity defying hair grabs her wrist so she can’t run away and to disguise his quirk.

“Are you du-” She starts out, her team speaking up too. He swipes his hand across the arms of those who replied to him as he takes control of them.

“Give us your headband, don’t bother us again, and go attack Bakugou’s team and take their headband.” He instructs. They hand him their headband which frankly, is pitiful, with blank eyes before scurrying off to pester Bakugou until they get snapped out of it.

Izuku and Shinsou continue to use their respective temperature guns until they beep, signaling that they’re almost out of battery and need to be charged.

As if on cue, there’s a scream of rage from Bakugou as the brainwashed team distracts him so much that the snarky blonde boy from 1-B steals his headband, spitting out poisonous, mocking words. The bristly blonde then instructs his team to cease pursuing the ten million plus points and get revenge on the thief that everyone within hearing range finds out is named Monoma.

The quirkless boy watches as if in a trance as Monoma matches Katsuki’s violent explosions with rivaling ones. A copy quirk, huh? Those are rare. Izuku can’t decide if he wants to go against him and revel in his confusion when he figures out Izuku doesn’t have a quirk or not go against him because the boy will most likely reveal his secret if he asks politely, therefore forcing Izuku to use blackmail against him.

He’s shaken out of his thoughts when Mei blasts up in the air to avoid a tape attack from Sero. Shinsou uses the last of the battery in his heat gun to melt and burn the tape. Izuku freezes the tape user’s elbows, using the last of the freeze gun’s battery.

“Izuku, catch!” Mei screams out in a sing-song voice as she uses a baby to tangle Todoroki and a few stray groups in heavy nets.

“I got you!” He yells back, unhooking his grappling hook and using the aim and latch function to grab Mei’s leg and bring her back onto their shoulders safely.

They’ve got six headbands not including their own. He looks at the board. Seven teams have points after stealing their headbands back from Todoroki’s briefly incapacitated group.

Team Hatsume sits pretty in the number one spot with 10,001,765 points. Even if the ten million headband gets stolen they’ll be fine.

“Midoriya, Yaoyorozu is making an insulated blanket.” Tokoyami warns. Izuku grins, they’re doing exactly what he thought they were going to do.

“Stay still. Let Dark Shadow deal with any attackers if possible. Mei, stay on high alert for Iida. He’ll get desperate in the last fifteen to thirty seconds and I need you to net him so he doesn’t get the ten million. The more points we get, the more attention we attract.” He instructs, adding that last note as motivation. It’s clearly working due to the fire burning in the pink haired girl's eyes as she pulls out the net gun again, making sure the Hatsume Industries stamp is visible from all angles.

Dark Shadow blocks an attack from a boy who can solidify air. Izuku submits to his old habit of muttering as he spots the interesting quirk. Shinsou elbows him in the side and snaps him out of it.

They stop running and dodging attacks. The timer on the scoreboard announces that there are two minutes left. Izuku double checks that the charging cords are plugged into the guns. Dark Shadow suddenly shrinks back as Bakugou approaches them, having dealt with Monoma who still has a respectable amount of points. Izuku realises that the sentient quirk is weak to light. A very bad match up if he says so himself.

Shinsou quickly covers for the shorter boy, grabbing Uraraka’s wrist, making sure she can’t touch him with all five fingers.

“Oi Bakguou, did you know that everyone thinks you look like an angry pomeranian?” Shinsou questions. The entire group blinks at him and erupts into laughter, he feels the pull, ready for him to grab.

“What the f*ck did you say to me, you f*cking Fig Newto-” The purple haired boy slaps the blonde, and touches the other teammates who laughed. It’s honestly annoying to have to touch everyone he uses his quirk on, but Izuku is right. If people know how his quirk works, he’ll have to rely on support items to win, and the support items he has are almost all made to enhance his quirk.

Their eyes become empty and blank. Dark Shadow gives him a thumbs up.

“Give us your headband and go attack Todoroki’s team.” He commands. They run off blindly assaulting the heterochromatic teen.

Shinsou focuses his attention back on Izuku just in time to see Mei staring at him as if he’s the most awe inspiring thing in the world. As if he’s a god almost. Izuku shoves the ends of the charger cords into the ground. The golden eyed girl winces at that, muttering about how he’s hurting her babies and she’ll have to make new charger cords but the fluffy haired teen ignores her and makes sure the guns are plugged in again.

Time sure goes by slowly when you’re thinking at a pace of 1000 km a second.

Soon after Bakugou’s team manages to steal two of the Todoroki team’s five headbands, they snap out of the trance. Shinsou curses under his breath. Midoriya really wants to give him advice and analyse his quirk in detail, or give him a training schedule to study and stick to but now is really not the time.

Honestly, Todoroki must be an angel or something because he traps the two teams in a wall of ice. Izuku smiles, this is definitely a not well thought out plot to get the two teams alone. So he thinks he’s stronger? The dual coloured hair boy is so tense he can’t resist riling him up.

“You do realise that Kacchan has two people on his team who could easily melt or break through your ice, three people, who could float, fly, or hoist them over, and Kacchan himself who can literally just explode your ice? You know what would really prevent them from getting in, Todoroki?” Izuku taunts. Shinsou jabs him in the side, but watches with amusem*nt and great attention, as if taking notes on how to rile someone up.

“Shut up!” The other boy shouts as he lunges to make an attack. Yaoyorozu falls slightly behind as she continues the process of producing a large, insulated blanket. Dark shadow pushes them away instead of dodging to make it so the group doesn’t have to move and the cords don’t disconnect from the ground in between the Todoroki team and theirs.

A distant crash sounds from about ten feet away, showing an angry Katsuki stalking towards them. Todoroki looks annoyed at both the intruding group and Izuku for being right. Luckily Monoma’s team prances in after that french boy who came in last blasts a hole through the ice wall and catches Izuku’s childhood friend’s attention.

“You know how you could’ve prevented that, Todoroki?” Izuku starts.

“One minute left!” Present Mic’s voice rings through the arena, shaking the floor. Todoroki clamps his mouth shut stubbornly, glaring at the freckled genius. Mei makes sure the net gun is loaded and checks the cords making sure they’re still plugged in.

“I bet you anything that if that was a wall of fire instead of ice, nobody would’ve intruded.” The greenette sneers.

“SHUT UP!” Todoroki yells. His team looks slightly scared of him. Izuku notes. He’ll have to teach a lesson on that when this whole festival is over.

“If only there was someone with a fire quirk, right, Todoroki?” The quirkless teen co*cks his head and stares at him with his piercing green eyes.

Todoroki clamps his mouth shut as his face morphs into fury that Izuku can’t really comprehend at the moment, he’s got too much on his mind to have a full blown conversation with the slightly dense boy anymore. He sees Yaoyorozu throw the finished insulating blanket over everyone but Kaminari. It’s almost like it’s happening in slow motion. After this attack, Iida will be attacking them out of desperation.

He taps Mei on the knee twice. She looks down at him and nods, net gun aimed subtly at the boy with engines in his calves. 45 seconds left.

Kaminari immediately puts his hands on the ground, leaving his teammates to hold up their rider. He yells out the voltage as confidently as he can before electrocuting the air and ground in an attempt to incapacitate the other team.

Izuku watches intently as both of the guns charge up to 100%, absorbing almost all of the electricity. He jolts slightly as stray volts shock him but notices it’s not enough to get up to Mei who is still watching Iida like a hawk, net gun aimed and ready to fire when the moment arrives.

Kaminari stands up one more, now drooling and doing weird hand motions. The business student watches unamused, they’ll have to work on building up his tolerance so he doesn’t become a liability on the field.

The crowd screams excitedly when they see how Mei’s team has protected themselves from the attack as Present Mic goads them on.

Yet again, Todoroki’s team is predictable as ever. They throw off the insulated blanket and collect Kaminari, looking flustered that the attack didn’t work.

“Twenty five seconds left! What will happen next? Who will prevail? Who will finish with the ten million points? Find out next time on Drago-” Present Mic screeches into the microphone before a thump is heard. Izuku assumes Aizawa has hit him on the head.

“Hatsume’s team has evaded Todoroki’s team’s electric attack by repurposing the electricity to charge their gun batteries. Very clever, Midoriya.” Aizawa drawls on, having seized control of the microphone.

Izuku gives him a smug smile and a thumbs up before putting all focus on the task at hand.

“I did not want to use this attack yet because I did not wish to reveal my weaknesses. Recipro Burst will propel me forward at an extremely high speed, however it stalls my engine for a few seconds after I use it.” Iida says with a determined air around him. Izuku rolls his eyes. If he didn’t want anyone to figure out his weaknesses, why would he literally say them out loud?

Mei tenses, lifting her net gun up so Iida can see it, and aiming it at his calves.

“ALL RIGHT LISTENERS TEN SECONDS LEFT!” Present Mic announces into the microphone enthusiastically. The crowd starts counting down.

“Mei, you ready?” The quirkless teen double checks.

“TEN!”

“Recipro….” The brother of Ingenium starts revving his engines.

“NINE!”

She nods in reply, impossibly still. Shinsou and Tokoyami nudge him worriedly. Izuku waves them off.

“EIGHT!”

“Don’t worry about her.” He starts.

“SEVEN!”

“Burst!” Iida shoots forward at an alarming pace, getting too close for comfort.

“SIX!”

“Mei never misses.” Izuku says confidently, never taking his eyes off of the pink haired girl.

“FIVE!”

The blue haired teen comes even closer, moving so quickly he looks like a blur.

“FOUR!”

Mei co*cks the gun, her eyes narrow and her breath steady.

“THREE!”

He reaches his hand out, ready to snatch the headband.

“TWO!”

She pulls the trigger.

“ONE!”

And as always, she reaches her target.

Iida stumbles and falls to the ground as a net encases him. She looks down at him coldly, gun still pointed at him. And he realises he failed. He underestimated her. And that was a mistake.

“TIMES UP!”

The crowd roars.

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“LOOK AT MY BABIES!” Mei immediately yells as Present Mic yells that the second event is over. She’s snapped out of her razor sharp focus and is now avidly advertising her babies.

Izuku chuckles fondly. At least she’s not wearing the microphone yet. Shinsou looks like he might burst into tears. Of course the emotional moment he’s having doesn’t last long as Mei hoists him up to display all of the stuff he’s wearing that she made.

“In first place with 10,001,765 points, is… Team Hatsume!” The audience screams loudly and Shinsou looks around at everyone dumbfounded, a warm smile slowly spreading across his face. Izuku’s pretty sure Tokoyami isn’t breathing. Mei is waving to the crowd, enthusiastically showing off her several different types of non lethal guns to the area of the crowd where sponsors sit. Izuku is looking up at the commentator’s booth.

“In second place is Team Todoroki!” The cheers are less enthusiastic, but still deafening nonetheless. Todoroki looks angry, he’s trembling and keeping his eyes stubbornly on the ground instead of celebrating like a (now recovered and charged up) Kaminari and Yaoyorozu, who is eating a granola bar. Iida looks frustrated with himself and keeps apologising to Todoroki. Todoroki doesn’t tell him it’s okay. Izuku frowns because it’s not Iida’s fault they didn’t get first at all.

“In third place is Team Bakugou!” Katsuki glares as the camera pans to him. The effect is ruined of course, when Kirishima jumps on top of him and envelops him in a hug, telling him how manly he is, while Sero expertly wraps the blonde in his tape. Making it so he both can’t escape and looks like a mummy. His glare deepens when Ashido leap frogs over him with the help of a grinning Uraraka.

“And last but not least, is Team Monoma!” Monoma smirks at the camera passing by him, Shiozaki remains unmoving but appears to be praying, Aoyama winks at the lens even though it’s not focused on him, and Tetsutetsu flexes his muscles with a wide grin.

“These are the students that will move onto the one on ones!” A bracket flashes onto the screen. “Make sure to place your bets, Listeners!” Present Mic turns off the speaker after Aizawa dismisses them for a lunch break.

Izuku stares up at the bracket, pretending not to feel Todoroki’s heavy gaze on him. The dude really is anything but subtle. The greenette frowns at the matchups. He can easily predict every win and how it’s going to pan out. Of course there are a few matches he is excited for as the way their quirks mesh will be interesting. He grins to himself. Betting is going to be a piece of cake. He looks back up at the board. At least he’s not going first.

Hatsume vs Monoma

Kaminari vs Bakugou

Sero vs Shiozaki

Yaoyorozu vs Izuku

Tokoyami vs Iida

Tetsutetsu vs Kirishima

Todoroki vs Aoyama

Uraraka vs Shinsou

Hatsume vs Monoma? Izuku muses to himself. That’s going to be quite an interesting matchup. Maybe the copycat will copy someone else’s quirk in advance? No matter, Hatsume will win. If he tries to copy her quirk, it’ll be quick and not flashy at all, so she’ll most likely use him as a billboard to advertise with, or he’ll use a different person’s quirk on her and there’ll be a slightly more interesting fight that will have a similar outcome.

The greenette speedwalks out of the arena before Todoroki can grab him, like he’s clearly intending to do. He finds the Management Course section of the audience. There’s a large table where people are drawing up their brackets and a betting booth with an extremely long line. He grabs one of the brackets Midnight assigned for them to do.

Izuku buys a betting slip and sticks it into his pocket so he can fill it out after he finishes his bracket. According to the grading rubric, if he gets the winner of the whole thing correct it’s an automatic A. He thinks out each fight in his head and determines who will win each one.

Hatsume will win against Monoma, Bakugou will win against Kaminari, Sero will win against Shiozaki, He will win against Yaoyorozu, Tokoyami will win against Iida, Kirishima and Tetsutetsu will tie and Kirishima will win the tiebreaker, Todoroki will literally demolish Aoyama, just, wipe the floor with him. And finally, Uraraka against Shinsou? Uraraka doesn’t know Shinsou’s quirk but she may be able to convince Mei to tell her. Shinsou will likely win because Uraraka won’t have any material to make float due to the fact Shinsou doesn’t have a physical quirk and she’s probably going to be easy to make talk.

Hatsume vs Bakugou huh? On one hand, she has literal babies made to specifically beat him, but if he blows one up she may get emotional. And that emotion will be rage. Yes, Hatsume will win against Bakugou.

Sero vs Him. Izuku knows he can win, his tape isn’t exactly super fast. If he dodges it he can knock the black haired teen out of the ring and will have the advantage against him in hand to hand. Yes, Izuku is confident in his abilities.

Tokoyami vs Kirishima. He hates to say it, but it is likely Kirishima will get up close and Dark Shadow isn’t really made for close combat which is an area he lacks in. Kirishima will probably win.

Todoroki vs Shinsou. If Shinsou is able to find the right thing to poke at and goad him into speaking then he’ll win. However, Todoroki will probably start off with a large scale long range attack and try not to give his opponent a way to counterattack. That’s where Mei’s support items that are designed to replicate the ice user’s quirk come in. Shinsou will win. He has to. Izuku promised him he’d get on the podium. Izuku promised himself he’d make sure Shinsou would end up with the gold medal.

The green eyed genius recalls how content and excited and happy Shinsou

He fills out his bracket and takes a break after seeing how the betting stand line has shrunk to fill out his betting ticket. He bets fifty dollars on each of the first round matches. Izuku’s completely confident about his predictions for those.

The greenette hesitates before buying one more ticket and betting one hundred dollars that Shinsou will win the whole thing.

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Aizawa eyes the green haired boy, his head has been hung low ever since the award ceremony. Maybe it’s because he hates All Might with a burning passion and the man gave him a medal, telling him he could be a hero, after telling him he couldn’t, added with the fact that Izuku hates heroes? No, that’s not it. Not even that could get him this down.

The gold medal on his neck glints in the light of the almost setting sun. He wants to gag. It hangs heavy on his neck, as if dragging him to the ground. He doesn’t deserve it.

“Hey, problem child. You won. Why do you look so down?” Aizawa questions softly as they walk back to his apartment.

Izuku takes a few seconds to register the words. They weren’t phrased like a threat. The tone didn’t indicate any malice. How is that possible? It didn’t sound like it was meant to- No. It was, Don’t forget what you’ve been taught Izuku. That’s a demand. You should be happy you won.

A genuinely bright smile plasters itself on the child’s face as he looks up at the hero. His eyes crinkle and curve into cheerful little arcs, a dimple appears on the right side of his face, and the sun makes it look like he’s glowing. It’s so convincing and practiced and easy that Aizawa almost believes it. Wants to believe it.

“I’m really happy, I swear. I’m just tired. That’s all.” Izuku says, lying to his face. Of course it’s not as if he can blame the kid. He probably is really tired. But he’s not happy. No, not at all.

“No you’re not. Happy, I mean. I’m sure you’re really tired but, you don’t want that medal. What’s wrong, Midoriya?” Aizawa asks in a casual voice, trying to make the heavy question seem light.

“Shinsou should’ve won. I got every matchup on my bracket right, except for the final. Shinsou should’ve won. I wanted him to win.” Izuku grits out angrily. His voice sounds watery and Aizawa can feel how frustrated he is in the air.

“You’re upset because your bracket was wrong?” The long haired man asks, confused as to why it matters so much when the kid has straight A’s in every class.

“I wanted him to win. I wanted to make him win.” The greenette sobs out. And Aizawa sees now.

“What happened during the fight? If you’re okay with talking about it.” The UA teacher asks.

“He won against Kirishima and I won against Hatsume. And then when we walked on the podium he wasn’t wearing a single baby. He wouldn’t even talk to me! It was- It was like he wanted to lose.” The child keeps walking, head hung low, tears dripping out of his eyes, leaving little dark spots on the sidewalk.

“Did you try to win, Midoriya?” Aizawa asks, trying his best not to sound accusatory, because that’s really not his intention. Unfortunately, the boy tenses and cries a bit harder before responding.

“N-no. But wh-what does that h-ha-ve to do with it?” Izuku stutters out between sobs and deep inhales.

“Don’t you think that would make him think you thought he couldn’t win?” The underground hero questions lightly. Izuku’s breath hitches.

It makes sense. How Shinsou had pushed him into the middle of court, how he’d prevented him from walking out of bounds and cried when Izuku said he wouldn’t fight him. Does he really not think Shinsou can beat him?

No, Izuku knows it. And Shinsou knows it too. There was never any possibility of Shinsou winning had there been an actual fight. He’d watched Izuku completely demolish Hatsume (all in good fun of course), gradually taking apart and disabling all of her babies and then taking her down in hand to hand combat. He’d watched Izuku tear apart Sero’s tape with raw strength and use his own quirk against him. He’d watched Izuku analyse Yaoyorozu’s quirk so accurately with so much detail and so many questions that were so specific it made her uncomfortable, how he’d told her about her quirk and every weakness it had and then used it all against her.

Of course, he even knows Shinsou’s quirk, how it activates, and even helped him hide all that information.There was no way for Shinsou to win because Izuku knows his quirk, probably more than he does. The purple haired boy probably wouldn’t even be able to goad him into an answer. If he’d mentioned the other’s quirklessness Izuku wouldn’t respond with words, instead probably just launch at him and beat him up, or would remain visibly unaffected.

It’s common knowledge that he has daily lessons with Nedzu, the proclaimed smartest creature in the world, and regularly outsmarts him. Izuku knows no matter what Shinsou said, he wouldn’t have reacted to it, wouldn’t have replied. He could’ve dissociated or tuned it out. Anything the quirked boy could throw at him, he’d probably heard before. He knows that he would be able to mask his expression and not give Shinsou any clues as to what actually bothered him.

There was no way Shinsou could’ve beaten him. They both knew it. And Shinsou wasn’t about to win a gold medal he knew he didn’t deserve, one he knew, the other purposefully let him have.

Izuku wanted him to win. He saw how happy he was that they’d won the cavalry battles and wanted to see him like that again. Wanted to give him that joy.

He puts his hand to his mouth and drops his guarded expression, letting his eyebrows scrunch up and his eyes full of pure pain and regret as he lets out gut wrenching sobs. That pensive grimace on Shinsou’s face when he was handed the silver medal wasn’t because he didn’t win, it was because he didn’t feel like he earned it.

It’s his fault Shinsou didn’t smile when he won second place.

Aizawa sees how the small boy’s body is shaking with the force of his sobs and regrets how many times Midoriya has cried when he’s been with him but remembers it shows how much the boy trusts him now and envelopes him in a hug.

“I-I’m the reason,” Izuku hiccups. “I’m the reason he wasn’t smiling at the award ceremony. I took it away from him.” He sobs out. Aizawa rubs his back and shushes him.

“Wh-why does it hurt so, so much more than usual?” The green haired child looks up at him.

The underground hero almost regrets looking at the boy’s face. It’s never this expressive, and when he does show emotion it never reaches his ever blank eyes. He looks into those bright green eyes and sees everything he needs to know.

“Because you hurt your friend and you didn’t mean to.” Aizawa tells him gently. Not missing the way Izuku tenses up at the word friend.

“I didn’t m-mean to, I just wanted him to be happy. ” Izuku cries out sadly, sniffling quietly, his voice muffled as he buries his face into Aizawa’s shirt. He doesn’t wonder if it’s too soon to hug. He just cries and cries, wondering why it hurts that much more to hurt a friend.

The door to his apartment is chipped and the key barely fits in the lock, but after a few minutes of jiggling the doorknob and turning the rusty key and excessive amount of times, they burst inside.

Midoriya is sniffling, his weight being held up primarily by the elder. He’s no longer sobbing frantically, now it’s a slow mourn. A tearful lament dedicated to his regret. Aizawa leads the boy to the couch that they always sit on together when the nights are hard and neither of them can sleep and sets him down gently before retreating to the kitchen briefly.

The quirkless child slumps into the cushion, resting his head on the plush back cushions, relaxing into the worn fabric that’s so old it has a certain musty smell and softness that only comes with time. Tears stream down his face, leaving shiny trails in their wake and retreat into Izuku’s hairline making it sticky and damp. Slowly, his eyes run out of tears to cry, his breathing slows to an even pace, and his watery eyes flicker shut.

Carefully and quietly, the adult steps back into the room, wincing when his wooden floorboards creak as he steps on them. He holds a wet paper towel in his hand and is both unsurprised and slightly shocked to find the boy already asleep, soft breaths escaping his parted mouth, occasionally sniffing, even in his sleep.

He chuckles fondly and wipes the teartracks off of the freckled boy’s face gingerly, knowing the skin is raw where he wiped away the wetness too many times.

The dark eyed man thinks back to earlier, how he’d shushed and comforted and listened and been there for him. How he had clutched onto the elder as if he was going to fade away as if he were a dream.

“I just wanted him to be happy.”

The setting sun shines through the window in front of the couch and illuminates Izuku’s hair, making it look like a halo.

Aizawa thinks it suits him.

Chapter 12

Chapter Text

Izuku wakes upon the ratty couch he’s grown to know so well. In fact, he’s probably spent more time on it than he has in his actual room. He checks the clock hanging above the door. 4:48 AM.

Well, it makes sense, he fell asleep way early last evening. The sun was just setting. He stretches, having slept more last night than he has in the past week. It’s Saturday. The greenette looks at Aizawa who is still sleeping like a normal human being and smiles.

Wooden floorboards creak under his feet as he wobbles into the kitchen to start up the coffee machine. He pours himself a cup and chugs it down, wincing slightly as it burns his throat. It’s the weekend. Maybe he should make breakfast?

He opens the elder’s fridge and pantry and grimaces. It’s packed with fish, vegetables, different types of salad dressings, and other things that revolt Izuku in general. Luckily, the pantry holds an expired box of pasta that he immediately grabs happily.

Just as he strains the pasta, placing butter in the pot and adding some shredded (to Izuku’s disappointment) swiss cheese, he hears a noise from the other room. Used to random noises due to the constant road noise of the city, he ignores it and continues mixing his mediocre at best breakfast.

It’s 5:30 AM and Izuku shivers when he feels a looming presence behind him. He spins around, slapping Aizawa in the face with the cheese covered spoon and pinning him to the ground.

Aizawa groans. He crawls away, ignoring the scattered apologies from the fourteen year old and sniffs his way towards the coffee machine like a crazed bloodhound. Only after chugging down two cups of black coffee does he realise what just happened.

Those are the reflexes of the kid who won the Sports Festival. He wipes off his face with a wet paper towel and returns Izuku’s profuse apologies with his own for surprising him. The teenager seems a bit frustrated with himself. He can’t think of a reason. It’s not about the Sports Festival. They dealt with that yesterday.

Izuku pouts. How the f*ck did he not notice him? The man is easily one of the least stealthy people he’s ever had follow him. Is he growing soft? He needs to train more.

The black haired man perks up when he hears muttering. And turns to the younger incredulously.

“You’re annoyed you didn’t notice me? I already told you kid, I’m fine.” He gestures to the spoon that slapped him not a minute earlier.

“I should’ve noticed you. I don’t know how I didn’t!” Izuku says, looking away, embarrassed.

“Problem child. I’m an underground hero. Stealth is literally my speciality.” Aizawa says as if it’s obvious. The green haired kid turns to him with a baffled expression on his face. The erasure hero feels his blood pressure rising as the kid opens his mouth.

“What do you mean, ‘Stealth is your speciality’? You suck at it!” The little genius almost yells, his face twisted in a confused expression. Aizawa sinks to the floor with his head in between his knees. His ego desperately wounded.

“I ‘suck’ at it?” He asks, expression dark. Izuku gulps, nervous. He’s ready to defend himself and is confident he could handle Aizawa, but doesn’t really know. The man has years of professional experience behind his belt. The freckled boy lowers slightly into a fighting stance, he leans away from the hero, as if expecting to be yelled at. He was too bold. He’s going to face the consequences. It’s his fault. He shouldn’t hav-

“Hey, problem child. I’m not going to hurt you or yell at you. I’m just wondering what you mean by saying I ‘suck’at stealth.” Aizawa puts a gentle hand on the younger’s shoulder. He feels a pang in his heart. Anger at Inko, instincts to protect. He can’t help but feel a bit disappointed that Izuku acts like this with him only. Of course it’s better than the way the kid acts with other teachers and adults, but he’s so carefree with Nedzu and younger people. Does Izuku really trust him?

“U-uhm. It’s just that, whenever you try to be stealthy or follow me, I can always tell you’re there.” He takes a moment to let his heart settle down, the tickle of fear in his chest still lingering behind. Izuku’s still on guard, ready to be yelled at. Mentally preparing and analysing Aizawa’s face and the air of the room, which is now awkwardly tense.

The underground hero who previously thought he was good at stealth and is now regretting his life decisions ponders over this for a minute.

“Do you have anything you need to do today?” He asks suddenly. Izuku perks up. He wants to hang out with the League or maybe go around town to do the usual, but he’s not about to tell the UA teacher that. The greenette tries to remember hsi schedule. He has to volunteer with Tokoyami tomorrow, so he can’t say that. Wait. Aizawa didn’t ask what he had to do, just if he had anything to do.

“Yes.” He simply replies. Aizawa raises an eyebrow about that. So he doesn’t want to tell him, huh? Whatever, it’s not his business.

“What time do you have to do it?” The long haired man asks, trying to plan how this is going to work.

“From 7:00 to 11:30 and from 5:00 to 6:45.” He says carefully. It’s been far too long since he’s talked to the kids and he hasn’t brought sandwiches to the internet cafes in awhile. He’ll need time to make food and shop, as well as visit the League later.

“How would you feel about doing a sort of training from say 12:00 to 4:30?” Aizawa asks, a pensive expression on his face. Izuku tenses for a second. It’s not as if Aizawa is going to do what she did, train him to hide his expressions, make sure nobody knows how long he’s been crying.

“What kind of training?” The greenette asks carefully, hesitant about the whole situation.

“I’d like to practice my stealth. My job depends on me sneaking up on villains and surprising them in order to take them out. Although I am typically undetectable, you are typically able to know where I am and what I’m doing. In return, you would be able to train your awareness of your surroundings and we could spar to practice hand to hand combat if you’d like.”

“Where would we be training?”

“Since I work in a city setting most of the time, and you live in the city, I’d like to propose we train at Ground Beta in UA.”

“Ok, genius. Why do I need to train if I’m not going to be a hero and I hate them so much?”

There it is, the million dollar question. Aizawa gulps. He forgot. This is the one child who wants almost nothing to do with heroes.

“It would..um.” He can’t think of anything at all. Midoriya’s ever watchful eyes narrow. “I would owe you.” The erasure hero slumps. It’s pathetic, but he really does need to train his stealth if Izuku can track him so easily.

“You already owe me though.” The teenager co*cks his head as if he’s confused. His face innocently curious but his eyes ever cold and blank. Aizawa reels in shock. He owes the kid?

“Yes, you owe me. Although, it’s a bit less than I would like, considering you’ve paid off most of your favours.” A childish voice says, from a different direction this time, a journal in his hands seemingly conjured out of nowhere. No longer next to the stove, but sitting at a table, quietly eating his food. The UA teacher curses internally. He really needs to up his game. Clearly, he’s been underestimating the kid again. When did he move?

“I would owe you more than I do already, and I- Oh. I know what I could give you.” His face morphs into a grin that makes Izuku a bit uncomfortable. Aizawa rejoices silently.

“What?”

“The Todoroki boy. I’ll help you avoid him.” The underground hero smiles at the flash of recognition in Midoriya’s eyes. Quickly the boy eyes him with apprehension and then a smirk of respect.

“Deal, you help me avoid Todoroki, and owe me another favour.” Izuku says, getting up to put his dishes away. Aizawa watches him clean his dishes up with practiced speed and efficiency. He lets himself wilt a bit in disappointment. The kid’s got more potential than his entire class combined.

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Takami watches the plain looking boy stroll around the almost empty grocery store with interest from afar. So this is the kid who won the sports festival? He’d tried to extend his second internship position towards him but according to the principal, he isn’t going into the hero course.

He stuffs his hands into his pockets, keeping up his look of nonchalance while using his feathers to keep track of the kid. It’s been all over the news lately. A Management Course student won the UA Sports Festival for the first time ever. At least fifty articles have been published, discussing the possibilities of his quirk that nobody saw being used during the events.

Midoriya Izuku. The number three hero whistles quietly as he walks around the store in his civilian clothes. The kid’s really an anomaly. Winning the Sports Festival and then refusing to transfer to the Hero Course?

He narrows his eyes, watching the freckled boy attempt to pay for his basket of groceries as the cashier refuses to let him, saying it’s congratulations for winning the Festival. Izuku grows more and more annoyed when the cashier flusters over him stuffing a 50,000 yen note into his shirt pocket, not wanting to owe the man a favour.

“At least let me give you something for free!” He begs, trying to stuff the 50,000 yen into Izuku’s hands, which he easily dodges. The plain looking boy groans, wishing he hadn’t won the festival and had just gotten out in the first event.

“No! I don’t need anything! It’s not like I’m a hero like that dude over there or something! Give him his stuff for free! Stop it! I’m not going to- Please just let me- Fine!” Izuku relents, he grabs a cough drop from one of the little baskets of 25 yen candies and holds it up passive aggressively at the grocery store worker. Takami pauses. What did the kid say about a hero?

“No, I insist, a soda or something better than tha-” The orange haired cashier starts up again with a pout on his face. Izuku frowns, starting to get pissed off. He doesn’t have much time and needs to get to the internet cafe before everyone leaves.

“I already told you! No! I already don’t want to take anything for free, you said anything, right! I want this cough drop, my throat’s sore from arguing with you.” The greenette groans out, just wanting to get back to Aizawa’s apartment so he can make the sandwiches.

“You’re an inspiration for those with non combative quirks, sir! I need to-” Izuku sighs as the stubbornly enthusiastic cashier starts up again.

“Please let me go! I don’t need for you to do this I just-” The short boy starts, out of breath and honestly pissed off now. The cashier doesn’t seem to be giving up anytime soon and tries to take the opportunity to shove back the yen note at him, but fails when he dodges expertly.

Izuku huffs, crossing his arms, walking back into the aisles of the stores as he thinks of something that he can buy that will appease the enthusiastic grocery store worker. Eyes lurk on him and he feels the veins in his forehead pulsating because of course it had to be the one hero he actually doesn’t despise aside from Aizawa.

Fed up with the attention he’s getting in the grocery store that has a total of three people in it counting himself, because it really is just his luck that it’s these two specifically, he grabs the small feather placed inconspicuously in his jean pocket and holds it up with a deadpan expression on his face as he rounds the corner to find a smirking Takami Keigo, better known as Hawks.

“So you noticed? I’d expect nothing less from the winner of The UA Sports Festival.” The twenty two year old comments casually, holding his hand out, not perturbed in the slightest to have been found out. He tries to telekinetically tug his feather out of Izuku’s hand and draw it back to his wings but to his surprise, finds out he can’t. The kid’s strong, he’ll give him that.

“Hawks,” Izuku takes the number two hero’s hand after evaluating it blankly for a second. “You are truly anything but subtle.” Takami feels a tense air surrounding them. The fourteen year old looks up at him, his face trained into an expression he can’t even begin to decipher. The boy is dangerously intelligent, that’s for sure. However, this is nothing new to him, he’s known since the second he’d entered the store.

“Midoriya Izuku. Congratulations on your win.” The man congratulates, trying to get a reaction out of the younger after seeing the spectacle with the cashier who guarded the door when he’d tried to leave.

“Thank you, that means a lot coming from you, Takami Keigo.” Izuku deadpans, still annoyed that he can’t leave the store and has to waste time talking to a hero. A hero who happens to be the furthest thing from an adult and is impressively smart.

If Takami is taken aback by the younger knowing his name, he doesn’t show it. Afterall, he’s known for being nonchalant and relaxed even in the most stressful of situations. So, he smiles and starts studying a box of cereal, emitting a carefree air.

“What brings you here?” It’s a seemingly innocent question, Izuku knows that much. But every word is loaded with ulterior motives. Intention to be involved in whatever he’s going to do next.

“Well, I’m trying to appease that crazy cashier. But I came to get groceries, y’know, like a normal person.” He replies, keeping his face trained into a awe stricken expression, as if he’s amazed a hero is speaking to him.

“Ah. What did you pick up?” Hawks questions, walking at a slow pace with an easy smile plastered on his smug face.

“Some ramen, bread, lunch meat, cheese, plastic wrap, a cough drop, and now, whatever satisfies that man enough to let me leave.” Izuku lists off, growing more and more annoyed as the winged man escorts him around the store.

“Hmmm. What are you doing after this?” The blonde asks, grabbing a hat and a face mask from the top shelf out of reach from the shorter and handing it to him. He gets a small scowl in return for his deed.

“Why are you asking?” The greenette answers his question with a question. He makes his way up to the cashier and shows him the items with a defeated expression. The orange haired man lights up with joy and throws a candy bar into Izuku’s basket of items with a thumbs up and a very formal goodbye.

Luckily for Izuku, Hawks gets held up by the aggressively friendly and generous cashier for a few minutes and falls behind him. Unfortunately, the feather he had in a death grip in his hand has slipped out as he lowered his guard and is now lifting him up by the back of his shirt, dragging him back to the store.

“I will sue you for illegal quirk use against a minor.” He deadpans when Takami exits the store with a jingle of the bells on the door and a lollipop in his mouth.

“No you won’t.” The young adult says, his feather letting the smaller down and returning to his wings. He glances at the green eyed boy’s face. “Put on your hat and mask. Or else you’ll get mobbed.” Keigo advises wisely.

“Yes I will.” Izuku says, addressing the quirk use question while haughtily stuffing the hat on his head and snapping the face mask over his mouth, muffling his voice.

“Nope.” Takami pops the p. “Even if you did give the police that voice recording, security videos, and whatever other evidence you have, I’m just escorting a boy who is potentially in danger home. I’ve got a hero license, Midoriya.” The red winged man says boredly, walking with the freckled boy at a leisurely pace.

“Why are you doing this?” He asks, genuinely curious and annoyed that he’s still being followed by the hero.

“Turn off the voice recorder and the cameras and maybe I’ll tell you.” Izuku isn’t surprised that the other knows about his voice recorder and ability to disable security cameras. Afterall, he probably saw it using his feathers and the UA student knows just exactly how smart the hero is.

“Is it a secret or something?” He asks, not making a move to disable anything.

Takami just shrugs and continues walking, waving to people that recognise him and following Izuku to wherever he’s going. The teenager pauses about a block from Aizawa’s apartment. Would it be dangerous to show the hero where the other lives?

“Ooh, who are you texting?” The brown eyed man asks, looking over his shoulder. “Aizawa? Who’s that?” Izuku just ignores him and stops walking, sending the text to the adult.

“Oh, you’re worried about showing me where you live, huh? Don’t worry, I’m not on patrol or anything so I have nothing but time.”

The green haired boy’s phone rings.

“WHAT THE f*ck DO YOU MEAN HAWKS IS FOLLOWING YOU TO THE APARTMENT?!” Aizawa screams into the phone. Izuku barely resists the urge to flinch and tremble nervously at the shouting from the other line.

“Sorry I yelled, I’m not mad, I’m just confused.” Comes a quiet apology from the other end of the line. The greenette breathes for a few seconds, trying to calm down before explaining the situation and asking if he’s allowed inside. Eventually, Hawks himself snitches the phone with a stray feather and talks to Aizawa who begrudgingly tells him he can come inside after threatening him excessively.

“All right, let’s get going!” Takami cheerfully says, walking beside the fourteen year old who spends his time contemplating his life decisions and how he got here.

A few minutes later, Izuku opens the front door to be greeted by a ticked off Aizawa who pulls the two in. The quirkless boy veers towards the kitchen to make his sandwiches and the number three hero follows the underground hero to the living room.

“So, why are you following him around?” The erasure hero questions. He feels a vein in his forehead threatening to burst when the highly ranked hero slumps down in a relaxed way onto the couch.

“I want to recruit him.” Izuku hears the young pro hero announce as he toasts the bread for the sandwiches he’s making for the residents of the internet cafe he often checks up on.

“He doesn’t want to be a hero. Trust me, I’ve tried.” Aizawa sighs out. Hawks’ eyes take on a shine of determination at that.

“I’m not saying he has to be a hero. He’s in the management course. I’d like to gain more popularity and see what he can do.”

“Why have you taken interest in him?”

“He won the Sports Festival, for one. But there are rumours going around. Rumours about a boy without an intelligence quirk who outsmarts even Nedzu from time to time.”

Silence engulfs the room. Izuku finishes wrapping the last sandwich in tin foil and places it in his yellow backpack.

“Who have you invited as you intern?” The Business student asks as he intrudes on the conversation about him.

“Fumikage Tokoyami.” Izuku’s eyes widen. It’s a chance to make it up to the boy, a chance to really be his friend. Hawks smirks at the reaction. Finally.

“When would I be interning at your agency?” The boy asks, sitting on the couch and leaning forward slightly.

“Same time as the Hero Course students. Next week.” Takami answers in a cordial tone.

“Aizawa. Shinsou’s moving up to 1-A, right?” The boy suddenly addresses the eldest in the room.

“...Yes.” Comes the hesitant reply. It’s probably supposed to be a secret but it’s obvious the second place student would get moved up and Izuku definitely would’ve found out from Nedzu soon enough.

“Who’s he interning with?” Takami observes the teenager who is interrogating two pro heroes without breaking a sweat with amusem*nt.

“Me.” Aizawa answers, seeing where this questioning is going.

“Then, I’ll intern with Hawks while the Hero Course students are. Don’t worry, Nedzu’s okayed this. And I’ll train with you and Shinsou this week because I know he has to work harder to catch up with 1-A.” Izuku says resolutely. The two pro heroes freeze. How in the world has Nedzu okayed it already?

“I suspected something like this would happen and he’s been on a phone call with me the entire time.” The greenette holds up his phone that has the contact name ‘Nedzu-san” on a call that’s over two hours long. He quickly bids the principal of UA goodbye and hangs up.

“I’m just relieved it isn’t All Might.” Izuku admits, smiling at the two slightly shocked, but impressed heroes that kind of expected this from the boy. The quirkless teen walks happily towards the front door, bulging yellow backpack slung over his shoulder carelessly, and glances over his shoulder, making eye contact with Hawks.

“Aren’t you coming?”

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“Thanks Midoriya! Congratulations on your Sports Festival win!” The homeless residents of the twenty four hour internet cafe pipe up as he hands out sandwiches and bottles of water. A few of them are speechless as they get handed a sandwich by the ever recognizable pro hero, Hawks.

“See you next time!” He smiles, waving enthusiastically when everyone has a tin foil wrapped meal in their hands. Takami watches fondly as they all shout their thanks back and give friendly goodbyes.

He doesn’t know what he was expecting when he started following the boy around but this certainly was not it.

“Hey, Takami?” Izuku grabs his attention holding a small notebook in his hands as they walk further into the bad part of town. A scream sounds from a dark alley and the off patrol hero immediately sends a few dozen feathers towards the noise to deal with the situation before turning to the smaller and engaging in a casual, unbothered conversation.

“Yeah?” The winged man looks around the greasy, trash covered, falling apart alley they’re walking through and feels his feathers returning to him, having apprehended the man who was mugging a woman down a nearby alley. He decides to file a request to his agency and the higher ups for his patrol route to include the area he’s walking in right now.

“I’m gonna cash in a favour. You still owe me, but it’s less now.” The quirkless teen looks up at him before crossing out a bullet point number one out of seven.

“Oh really, and what do I owe you for?” Takami questions, he can only count about two things he’d owe Midoriya for.

“Well, the one I just crossed out was me not reporting you to the police. You and I both know I could’ve gotten your license suspended for a week minimum. The others are things like, calling Aizawa in advance, because he would’ve demolished you if I hadn’t, letting you hire me as an intern, among other things.” He shuts the notebook and looks up at the blonde with an unwavering gaze. The winged man looks back at the younger for a while before lifting his gaze up, straight ahead.

“Okay. What can I do for you?” He asks, knowing Midoriya wouldn’t have done that if it weren’t important to him.

“Be nice.” Is all Izuku says, before walking forward at a much swifter pace. What the hell does that mean?

All of a sudden, the walls of the alley crumble away and show a small park in the middle of the cracked pavement that smells absolutely rank. It’s not pretty. The trees are growing brown and it’s not even autumn yet, the bushes are glorified branches, and there’s piles of dog poop everywhere but it’s somehow beautiful.

The grass is green and uncut, clover flowers dotting the field white and buttercups pop up around a wooden bench in the middle of it all. He looks at the fluffy haired boy in amazement. Hundreds of children flock them. Dimly the hero remembers hearing a whistle that summoned a stampede of pitter pattering steps.

The kids follow Midoriya in a tight knit circle, surrounding all his blind spots. He wonders if it’s an instinct to protect the boy. Takami follows the crowd, not really knowing what’s happening. They all sit down in the grass, holding their legs tightly to their chests to make room for everyone.

A little girl grabs his hand and he gives her a charming smile, letting her lead him to the grass where kids all look at him curiously. He feels a burning gaze and realises it’s Midoriya. A reminder to fulfill his favour. Two boys tug on his wings and he flinches slightly but lets some of the younger children climb onto his lap and shoulders as they ask about his wings.

There are a few minutes where everyone participates in a tournament of sorts. As a boy with blue hair jumps up shouting happily about how he wins Takami figures out it’s all to sit next to Midoriya. It takes him a while to notice that the little audience is much more interested in the plain looking boy than him, the number three hero.

Though that fact doesn’t bother him. They’ve clearly known the greenette longer than they’ve known him. And after ten or fifteen minutes of chattering and people asking about what it’s like to be a real hero, they all fall into a silence when Midoriya leans forward as if he’s about to tell everyone a big secret.

His face doesn’t stay in a smile, instead it’s serious and evaluating as he watches and listens unwaveringly to the teenager sitting on a park bench in the middle of the most dangerous part of town. The boy is telling them stories. He braids a girl’s hair after seeing how it plastered against her sweaty neck. She thanks him with a small, shy, smile.

Midday sun shines down on them relentlessly. Everyone is sweating and hot but nobody moves. Captivated by the stories that Izuku describes in great detail. Smiles adorn the kids’ faces as they listen intently to the boy in awe. Soon though, stomachs grumble and the story pauses for a moment as Izuku hands out the remaining sandwiches in his backpack, they’re cut into quarters and passed around until everyone has one. The story continues where it was left off, immediately captivating everyone within earshot again.

Hawks watches as the green haired teenager tells children long forgotten by the rest of the world, stories when nobody else will. He sees the comforted, carefree smiles, full of happiness, and knows they feel safe. He sees how the crowd surrounds the boy who tells them stories, covering him from all sides like an impenetrable wall.

He’s never seen someone as more of a hero than the boy in front of him right now.

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Like clockwork, Izuku ends the story with a cliffhanger to the children’s and Hawks’ disgrace at 11:30. He gets up from the park bench and bids the children goodbyes, handing a few barefoot children some new shoes and treating the cuts on the soles of their feets before walking away.

Takami follows him, silent as they walk back through the dark alleyway. The greenette doesn’t make any signs of starting a conversation and he decides to take it upon himself to do so.

“You’re a really good guy, you know?” He comments, eyeing the freckled boy who just smiles at him, nodding his head in thanks.

“Are you gonna keep following me?” Izuku asks, wondering if Aizawa wouldn’t want the other to participate in the training.

“Yep.” Hawks answers, popping the p and not asking for permission to continue following the teen. He kicks a piece of gravel and watches it roll roughly across the pavement.

“Why are you following me?” He repeats the question from earlier, using a more casual tone. Izuku wonders if he’d still want to follow him if he knew he was quirkless. The twenty two year old smiles lazily.

“You’re interesting and seem like fun. You should be a hero” It’s a blunt, honest answer. Takami flaps his wings, stretching them when they finally emerge from the alley and floats, leaning back in a relaxed position, keeping pace with the freckled genius.

“No thanks. I’m going to be training Shinsou and Aizawa for the next few hours. You gonna help or no?” Izuku feels a smile pull at his face at the not really an adult’s bluntness and decides he likes him.

“Nah.” Takami’s eyes are closed as he floats along. He opens one and looks at the green eyed boy. “Do I have to?” He groans out in a whiney voice.

“It’ll be fun.” The younger shrugs in an amused tone at the unwillingness to do something physically exerting from the literal pro hero.

“You should just chill, I promise you it’s more fun than training.”

“I promised Aizawa I would.” He sighs out, slightly regretting his decision but remembering what he’ll get in return and snapping his mouth shut.

“Hah. Fine. What’re you guys gonna be doin’?” They approach the apartment building, Aizawa looking at the young pro hero lounging in mid air as his wings flap absentmindedly and sighs.

“So he’s coming too?” The erasure hero asks reluctantly.

“Yep. I’m gonna help Aizawa and Shinsou with stealth and maybe hand to hand combat.” He answers both of the heroes’ questions.

“Where are you doing it?” The winged man hops down from his previous position and begins walking beside the other two.

“One of the training grounds at UA.” Izuku answers in a bored voice before perking up and running ahead, having spotted a flash of purple hair. Hawks hears a shout of indignance and a thump as the shorter first year tackles the other.

“How’d you know?” Shinsou whines, rubbing his head where it hit the ground.

“You weren’t exactly subtle, you know.” Izuku shrugs, walking back to the two heroes who seem to be arguing about something.

“Stop being so formal with me!” The blonde man whines.

“Stop being so casual with me.” Aizawa says in his usual drawl. Looking extremely annoyed as the shorter smirks at him.

Izuku nearly gets throttled by Shinsou for not warning him that the number three hero is going to be helping him train.

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“It’s not nice to kidnap someone when they’re in the middle of training.” Izuku points out in a voice far too casual for someone who just got kidnapped right under two pro heroes’ noses.

“You were late. Tomura got worried.” Kurogiri protests as the business student pulls out his phone and texts Aizawa that he’s okay and will be back in time for dinner.

“I’d like a little warning next time. You could’ve called me, y’know?” He whines out, genuinely annoyed that his time with Shinsou, Aizawa, and Takami was interrupted.

“But we haven’t seen you in so long ‘Zuku-chan!” Toga hops onto his shoulders, making him wobble slightly. She raises her hand and thrusts it down, ready to lodge a knife in the green haired boy’s esophagus before he grabs her wrist and throws her off of his shoulder.

“Toga-chan! Do you really have to do that everytime?” He asks in a whiney voice. She gives him a sh*t eating grin.

“Yep! Gotta keep you on your toes, y’know?” The blonde girl replies cheekily.

He sighs, shaking his head. Then sits down in his barstool, abstaining from his usual Shirley Temple. It’s weird. Supposedly, Tomura had demanded he come right away but Izuku doesn’t see him anywhere. He doesn’t see Dabi either.

“Hey, where are Tomura and Dabi?” The green eyed boy nudges Kurogiri’s physical body, watching amusedly as the warp gate man tries to make up an excuse.

“Nevermind, if it’s something illegal, don’t tell me.” Kurogiri physically relaxes when Izuku says this and goes back to polishing a glass.

Absently the freckled teen realises he can hear shouting from the other room. Clearly Toga realises too because she challenges the other to a game of Just Dance and turns off All For One’s monitor without a second thought before sliding the game into the Wii and throwing a remote at Izuku with her full strength. He catches it easily and gives her a look of boredom that results in riling her up and choosing the hardest dance in the entire game.

They’re both panting, sweat running down their temples as they dance exaggeratedly to Toxic by Britney Spears for what must be the fourth time as they continue to tie, when Dabi walks in, demanding an entire bottle of wine from Kurogiri and getting a juice box instead.

Eventually the dyed haired man joins the two teenagers in their dancing but Izuku can’t help but feel that it doesn’t feel right. Something’s in the air. Something bad. He wants Tomura to come play with them. That always seems to make things a bit better.

“Oi, Dabi you’re twisting your wrist the wrong way.” The blue haired man enters nonchalantly, arms crossed and pinkies raised. Izuku nearly stops dancing out of relief at seeing the man.

“Tomura, you’re back!” He yells out as he walks from side to side and jumps up three times.

“Shut up you f*cking ashy ass bastard.” Dabi grits out, annoyed the other would try to critique his obviously flawless dancing.

“Dabi, ‘Zuku-chan, you’re falling behind, if we don’t get five stars on this level I will stab both of you without hesitation.” Toga deadpans, serious for once, successfully terrifying both boys into dancing with intense focus.

The two dark haired boys deflate with relief when they barely get five stars and Toga gives them a beaming smile. She asks to play again which they both politely decline, opting for sitting down at the bar again.

Tomura tosses the green eyed boy a new roll of washi tape that’s covered in bumble bees and honey cartoons. Dabi eyes it judgmentally but sips his juicebox silently when the dry skinned man gives him a look.

Like usual, even though he’s got to leave in about half an hour, Izuku wraps the elder’s fingers in tape to prevent him from accidentally disintegrating with careful hands. Tomura watches fondly as the younger sticks his tongue out as he concentrates.

He startles when Izuku looks up at him as he finishes up taping his left hand and frowns, eyes alight with newly introduced vigour. Though the shorter stays quiet about whatever it is he saw as he moves onto Tomura’s right hand.

The scarlet eyed man feels tongue tied when Izuku asks if the tape is too tight and shakes his head instead, cursing the rush of warmth and adrenaline and flutters he gets when the curly haired boy lets out a triumphant ‘ha!’ at finishing up the task of taping the villain’s fingers.

However, Tomura’s heart attack is long from over he realises when Izuku pulls out a small bottle of moisturiser, tube of neosporin, and five green band aids.

“I thought I told you to stop scratching, Tomura! Have you been using lotion at all? Didn’t I buy you chapstick?” Izuku whines out in a scolding tone as he leans forward, and rubs moisturiser on his neck, effectively freezing up the elder.

“I think you broke him, Izuku.” Dabi jokes, laughing when his leader gives him a warning glare.

“Toga-chan! Expect you, as the official ‘only person in the league who actually takes care of their skin’ to make sure Tomura moisturises every night!” The freckled boy commands the blonde who salutes him.

The quirkless teen gingerly applies neosporin to the scratches on his neck and places a band aid over each one, asking if it stings and making him promise not to scratch his neck or take off the bandages. Tomura just nods, trying to calm his aching heart.

“Dabi! Just because you stapled your face together doesn’t mean you can neglect your skin! Just look at how dry it is and how irritated your scars are. Go buy this the next time you get more black hair dye. Also, don’t forget to clean your staples and take care of them properly.” Izuku scolds the scarred man who cowers underneath his glare. Toga seems to be writing notes on a sticky note that was definitely stolen from some poor guy’s desk.

“Twice! Take care of your stitches and don’t neglect your beard! You should really invest in some eye cream, dude. Kurogiri! I know you have a physical body and I’m just saying it’s not good to cover it in metal, let your skin breathe sometimes.” The greenette walks around scolding each league member except for Toga who he recommends the brand Cerave for a day to day moisturizer and the healing ointment for lip balm because blood dries out her lower face.

“Next time I come here, I’m bringing face masks and I expect to hear you’ve been exfoliating twice a week at least, washing your face, using moisturizer, and using sunscreen every morning! Don’t forget to put it on the back of your hands too because that’s where sun damage affects you the most later in life.” Izuku makes sure Toga has it all written down before sitting back in his stool and sipping on his drink.

Everyone in the bar just kind of sits there, dumbfounded for a moment before the television monitor crackles to ife.

“I would like to speak to Midoriya.” All for One demands. The little genius notices how Tomura freezes up and how everyone’s posture shifts into variations of being nervous to being alert.

“No.” Izuku replies simply.

“That wasn’t a question.” The villain speaks up, Tomura stands and grabs the fourteen year old’s wrist. Izuku promptly flips him onto the ground and yanks his arm away.

“Why? I don’t want to.” He growls out. His stance is defensive and everyone in the bar is a threat, especially Tomura. Donyoku is a threat. He’s an adult. An extremely old one at that. He’s dangerous. Izuku needs to get out of here.

“I’m not going to hurt you, I just want to talk. I promise. You have my word.” The monitor crackles out and Izuku wants to leave now. He doesn’t want to talk to an adult he doesn’t trust and if he’s not going to. Until he sees Toga’s face. How it’s blank and resigned. Until he sees how Dabi won’t meet his eyes. Until he sees how Kurogiri is awaiting orders expectantly. Until he sees how Tomura is looking at the ground, torn between two, tears prickling at his eyes as his face begs Izuku to just come with him.

So the quirkless fourteen year old doubles over, wanting to cry, because he realises nobody is going to help him go against their leader. And he takes Tomura’s hand. Walking towards Kurogiri who opens up a portal without as much as a ‘goodbye’.

“I see you’ve decided to come willingly. Good, you’re smart.” A deep voice calls out from within a dark room. Tomura squeezes his hand reassuringly. Izuku doesn't say anything in reply, and shakes his hand out of the elder’s grip before walking forward.

“Tomura. Leave us.” The man orders. The greenette can hear how the quirked man hesitates before walking off slowly.

“Midoriya Izuku. You are quite the interesting specimen. If Tenko hadn’t insisted on my leaving you alone, I would’ve turned you into a Noumu by now. I have noticed Quirkless people make the highest quality ones.” He’s quite clearly trying to make the petite boy uncomfortable. Though Izuku isn’t going to give him the satisfaction of shivering. He’s trained in situations like these. Knows exactly how to react, when, how not to, everything. The business course student gets a feeling of doom when the man easily comments on his quirklessness. He hasn’t even told the League yet.

“Tenko rarely takes interest in weak things so imagine my surprise when he brought you here and had me talk to you only to find out you are quirkless. I’ve let you come and go for quite some time now.” The lump of beeping machinery continues to drawl on. Izuku feels a pit of dread growing in his stomach. His suspicions were right. Tomura’s name is Tenko.

“I would like you to join the League, Midoriya Izuku.” Donyoku purrs out. The freckled genius doesn’t give him a reaction. He’s been expecting this.

“Nah. Thanks for the offer though.” Izuku says casually. He sees how the man with multiple quirks tenses in anger at his laid backness. The teenager picks at his fingers, looking up at the other innocently, as if daring him to underestimate his abilities.

“Are you sure? What if I gave you an offer you could never resist?” All for One asks, an evil tone to his voice, as expected of a several centuries old villain.

“I doubt you could give me anything, Greed” Izuku purrs out the man’s name. Donyoku, which is the name for the sin of greed. The elder visibly flinches at that but continues in a voice that sounds like he thinks he’s better than the boy. The fourteen year old boy’s breath catches in his throat when All for One asks his question, causing the other to smile in an unsettlingly superior way.

“Midoriya Izuku, how would you like to have a quirk?”

Chapter 13

Chapter Text

“What?” The fourteen year old asks, hiding his trembling hands in his lap as an expression of pure confusion and shock slaps itself onto his face and seeps into his voice.

“I would like to give you a quirk.” Donyoku says, turning to face the boy who much to All for One’s disappointment, doesn’t recoil or flinch in the slightest at the sight of his face, or rather, lack of.

Izuku seems to be thinking over the offer for quite a while. The centuries old man wonders if the boy is pondering on whether or not he’ll be in debt, or owe him for such a valuable gift. Inwardly he sneers. Of course the boy would accept. What kind of a dumbass would refuse an offer like this?

And when he comes back, begging for the quirk to be taken away, or failing to train it, he’ll be there. Right next to Nedzu’s precious darling of UA as he coaxes him into villainy. He uses a heat signature quirk and sees that the fourteen year old is still staring ahead. A bit creepy, yes, but not unsettling to a man like him who has endured centuries of horrors unimaginable.

It’s just that…. The boy hasn’t blinked. He sees Midoriya stare ahead, making eye contact with where his eyes used to be with a dazed expression on his face, eyes unfocused and wide. Donyoku tries to dissect his expression and use it for future reference and realises that it’s utterly open. Hiding in plain sight. An expression so guarded that it looks as though it’s vulnerable. It’s clear that he has underestimated the teenager’s capabilities. An intelligent mind that will rule the world when he turns it to villainy. Those haunting eyes and perfectly still face that takes years of practice to perfect.

All for One notices that the kid looks extremely focused and his eyes are not at all dazed. As if he’s waiting for someth-

Izuku’s nose twitches and he lets out an intense, loud sneeze and sniffs. Finally. He’d been waiting for it to come out for a while now. The greenette looks at the thing in front of him with curiosity.

The supervillain recovers from the sneeze admittedly quickly and gets right back to watching the green eyed boy with interest through his heat vision quirk. Young people are still fairly predictable. This boy isn’t much different. He can almost hear him asking what quirk he would give him in a hesitant voice and being so impressed and so blinded by the prospect of finally having a quirk that he’ll say yes without a second thoug-

“Nah. I’m good.” The young voice rings throughout the room with amazing clarity and bluntness. A mere fourteen year old quirkless boy talking so casually to him, and all that comes of it is a refusal? Izuku rubs at his nose and sniffs. This is boring. There’s no way to analyse this guy’s quirks if he doesn’t use any of them.

Silence rings loudly through the room. And if the little Midoriya were a betting man he’d bet his life savings that Kurogiri has a pinhole portal in here so he can eavesdrop on this conversation. The freckled genius slumps in his chair, giving up on his good posture and resigning to the fact he’ll have a hunch when he’s an old man.

Neither of them say anything for a long time and Izuku sighs because he had acted in this particular way with the hope that he’d be able to leave earlier. Maybe if his stomach rumbles loud enough the adult in the room will hear it and let him go so he can eat something.

Of course though, nothing ever goes according to plan. Eventually the short curly haired boy resorts to being a pest so he can finally leave this godforsaken room that has no food in it.

“I spy with my little eye, something….. Old as f*ck.” Izuku sings out in a sarcastically playful voice. The man is making him a bit uncomfortable, reminding him of the calm before a storm, or inko before she yelled at him. He sulks for a bit when he doesn’t get a reaction or a reply from the villain after choosing his twenty fourth target in I spy.

“Dude, I don’t know if you know this but this isn’t really how the game works. You have to like, guess what I spy.” He leans forward and prods at the centuries old villain nobody has been able to defeat. The quirkless fourteen year old tries a new approach.

“I spy with my little eye, something grey and boring. It’s the wall. See? Look at- right, you can’t because you don’t have any ey-” Izuku says, stopping to look back at the man with no nose or eyes. This gets a reaction. A twitch of what would be an eyebrow. f*ck it. Let’s go out with a bang.

“I don’t see a bathroom in here. Oh my god are you wearing a diaper?” He deadpans. Almost there. His hands are so tightly balled into fists that his knuckles are white.

“Do you have a penis or are you just- y’know?” Izuku scootches his chair closely, relishing in how uncomfortable the atmosphere in the room is and how the chair makes loud screeching noises when he drags it across the room. He rests his chin in his hands and leans forward on the edge of his seat as he waits for an answer.

“Got your nose! Oh wait-” The greenette wiggles his thumb between his pointer and middle finger and pretends to deflate when he ‘realises’ the man has no nose. Luckily, bothering the man with multiple quirks about his lack of certain body parts, skincare routine, or how jealous he is of how symmetrical his face is seems to do the trick.

Soon enough he’s kicked out of the room and banned from returning. He ignores the astonished looks from everyone in the bar and grabs his Shirley Temple, frowning when he tastes how diluted it is from the melted ice.

Izuku grabs his backpack and a light hoodie, slipping both of them on and ignoring Toga’s reiterated protests for him not to leave and the knife that gets dangerously close to stabbing out his right eye, though it is quickly snatched up in his fist and thrown at the dart board where it lands on the bullseye.

The League of Villains bids the fluffy haired teenager a less extravagant than usual goodbye as he gives them a salute as a parting offer and slams the door on his way out.

The green eyed genius yawns into his hand as he skips towards Aizawa’s apartment. That damn geezer made him late for dinner.

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Izuku lets himself drift into the clutches of exhaustion and sleeps for the first time in a long while. His mind free of his conversation with All for One for the first time since it happened. He lets himself drift away and dreads the dreams that accompany his nights.

The teenager is standing on the roof of a building. In his gut Izuku already knows which one it is. It’s cold and the wind nearly blows him over. But in a way the iciness of the breeze is crisp and welcoming as he walks towards the edge, everything growing clearer and clearer with each step.

There’s a little boy sitting on the edge of the building. His legs are swinging childishly, precariously, over the seven story drop. He can’t see the boy’s face. It’s blurred and see through like a ghost. A voice rings out, it’s young and familiar but the business student can’t quite remember who it belongs to.

“Why are you here?”

The green haired boy wakes with a start. The sun has just finished rising and his alarm clock (which is honestly one of the most useless things he owns) tells him he’s got an hour or two before school begins. He admires the rising sun, letting his fingers settle in the glow of the rich orange morning sun.

Izuku thinks back to the conversation he had with Donyoku. He could’ve had a quirk. Should he have said yes? Is he ever going to go back there? He doesn’t have the slightest idea of what he’s supposed to do.

The still quirkless boy slips on his uniform, not putting on his tie like usual, gets ready, and spends about ten minutes trying to wrestle with his hair before giving up and starting up the coffee machine. Aizawa sniffs out the coffee and attempts to sneak up on Izuku before getting a cup and fails miserably.

“Mornin’” The quirkless boy says, flicking the UA teacher’s forehead, halting the sneak attack taking progress not more than a foot behind him. However, he’s not completely heartless so he hands Aizawa a cup of black coffee in an extremely large mug as he downs his own much smaller cup at a slower pace than the man next to him.

“Talkin’ to Child Protective Services in two weeks, Friday evening.” The long haired adult informs him bluntly. Izuku tenses, nervous at the idea of talking to the people who failed him so long ago and possibly being forced to see his parents or being accused of lying or being told what happened to him isn’t that bad and having to go back.

“Okay.” Is all he says, not really knowing how to respond. Aizawa pours another cup of pippin hot coffee into his mug and gives him the side eye before sighing and ruffling the younger’s hair.

“It’ll be fine, problem child.” He assures Izuku as he takes a long gulp from his mug and lets out a satisfied ‘ahhh’ when he swallows it all down.

They discover there’s far more time before Homeroom than expected and relish in the possibility of heating up breakfast and eating it at a table, sitting down, instead of stuffing a cold english muffin into their mouths as they speed walk through the gates.

However, it’s not as if there’s time to actually make breakfast. They let out satisfied huffs of air as they munch on their food at the table they rarely use. Izuku smiles sleepily and happily while munching on a hot pocket that took an abysmal amount of time to heat up, pushing away his anxious thoughts about being offered a quirk while Aizawa eats a warm blueberry muffin and a banana, trying, and failing not to get it all over his phone where he’s checking the news.

Dimly, the management course student remembers a post on tumblr someone made about Eraser Head that he saw last night and snatches the other’s phone to show him. The constantly tired man doesn’t look amused and it makes him feel a bit small.

Unfortunately the leisurely breakfast led them to the usual panic of mornings as they realise they’ve been eating for too long and class starts in ten minutes and it’s an eight minute walk. Aizawa curses when he leaves a folder of tests he just finished grading inside and has to rush back in to get them.

They end up walking to UA in silence, Izuku still in slight inner turmoil over the possibility of getting a quirk that he threw away so carelessly because he was hungry, and Aizawa honestly just dead to the world because he stayed up almost all of last night grading 1-A’s papers that he was supposed to give back to them weeks ago.

People slap him on the back and give him congratulations as he walks into UA’s gates. He flinches at every touch but doesn’t say a word in reply. His classroom goes silent when he slides open the door. Izuku begins to wonder if it was a mistake to expel all of the students, it resulted in him being isolated from the rest of the class and his paranoia tells him everytime he turns his back to them they’re whispering about him.

“Today we will be advising class 1-A and 1-B when they decide their hero names as they choose who they will be interning with!” Midnight sings out cheerily, snapping her whip to get her small class’ attention. Izuku yawns as she hands out worksheets for them to complete as they collaborate with the other class and wonders when this class grew to be so boring to him.

“Since we are a smaller class, each of you will be assigned to two or three hero students per class. Please work well in your groups! Now, here are the assigned pairings!” She says with flourish as she goes to the next slide on her slide show. Izuku feels like throwing up.

He’s been paired with Iida, Shinsou, and Todoroki. Internally, the quirkless boy punches Aizawa in the face but realises there’s very little the hobo looking man could’ve done about this situation and settles for pouting about being paired up with the heterochromatic boy.

“We will be going up to advise class 1-A now, and class 1-B at the end of the school day.” Nemuri instructs, organising her seven students into a line and telling them how to do the worksheet as they walk up the hallway to the hero courses.

Izuku gives Aizawa a death glare as he enters the room and the elder just smirks at him apologetically. Each management student calls up their assigned hero student and sits down in groups to help with their hero names.

“Iida Tenya, Shinsou Hitoshi, Todoroki Shouto.” The greenette calls out, grabbing all three of the boy’s attentions. They end up working towards the back of the classroom, trying to make the most of the fifteen minutes they have to decide on the hero name they’ll use for the rest of their career.

“I’m going to be an underground hero so I don’t care. I’d rather people not know my hero name anyways.” Shinsou shrugs. Izuku nods and points to Iida who looks rather tight strung and off his game.

“I heard about your brother. I’m very sorry. However, he’s not dead and though he can’t do hero work anymore it doesn’t mean he wants revenge or anything so don’t do anything stupid and stop sulking..” The management course student says, giving the other no sympathy.

Iida looks taken aback by the lack of pity in his voice and quickly says that he might just use his given name. Although he is quickly shot down by the shorter boy who moves onto Todoroki.

“Now is no time to be glaring at me Todoroki. Do you have any ideas for your hero name?” He asks, filling out his worksheet as he addresses the quirked boy, never once looking up at him.

“Shouto.” The dual hair coloured boy replies. A sigh resonates throughout the room when the greenette figures out two of his assigned heroes are extremely unoriginal.

“So no.” Izuku says, not missing a beat. Todoroki goes to object in an exasperated voice but halts when a sharpened pencil stabs(pricks) him in the forehead harmlessly.

“Okay. Tell me each of your quirks in detail.” The freckled genius rubs his forehead as he feels a headache growing. Each of them explain their quirks to the best of their abilities. And while he is able to convince Iida to use a flashier, more marketable name, Todoroki remains stubborn.

“So, what type of hero are you aiming to be? I think you’d suit well to be a cool type of hero who easily overwhelms villains and saves people effortlessly while capturing everyone’s hearts.” Izuku deadpans, making the other boy flush slightly. He’s not lying. This is the best way for him to market himself. Todoroki nods hesitantly, not really knowing what type of hero he wants to be.

“So, having a name like Shouto, your given name, would make people think you want to be close and casual and personal with them. I’m assuming you don’t want that, do you, Icyhot?” Shinsou snickers when his friend goes off on his classmate.

Eventually Todoroki bends under Izuku’s unbreakable will and is given the luxury of choosing between two options presented by the business student. Icyhot and Contrast. Eventually the youngest son of Endeavor settles on Contrast with a satisfied huff.

Shinsou chooses the name Mindjack and Iida hesitantly writes Ingenium on his whiteboard, gaining a thumbs up from Izuku. Midnight okays all of their names before going back to a heated argument with Bakugou over why he can’t be called King Explosion Murder.

Aizawa tells them to sit tight because there’s only five minutes until class ends but Izuku doesn’t think he can relax when Todoroki is burning holes in his back from staring at him so intensely.

He sighs when the bell rings and dashes out of the classroom, ready to listen to teachers lecture him about things he already knows. Of course nothing is that easy because Aizawa grabs his wrist and drags him back in. Izuku sends a questioning glance at Midnight who just winks and mouths good luck.

“This is Midoriya Izuku. He will be teaching you the rest of your classes today.” The erasure hero states. Everyone’ jaws drop to the floor. Including Izuku. Immediately Iida holds up his hand and begins talking without being called on.

“Excuse you. Iida, did I call on you? What’s the point in putting your hand up if you’re just going to shout out anyways.” The newly appointed teacher scolds. Bakugou begins making small explosions in his hands and flies forward, attempting to knock down the small teacher who dodges easily.

“I’m going to sleep.” Aizawa says, before thumping onto the ground in his yellow sleeping bag. A security camera beeps, catching his attention. A blue light flashes. Nedzu’s watching him. He’s being tested.

Bakguou gets up and launches himself at Izuku again, coming forward with a blatand right hook that he catches before flinging him onto the ground. The quirkless boy squats down next to him and whispers in the blonde’s ear.

“Now, now, now, Kacchan. We don’t want UA to know what the words swan dive mean to the both of us now, don’t we?” Katsuki quickly shoots up and backs away cautiously, sitting in his seat, looking nervous but at the same time extremely angry.

Izuku clears his throat and looks at the schedule on Aizawa’s desk. Math. He grabs a piece of chalk and begins to write on the board. The class is silent, obviously confused on what the hell is going on. He hears a pencil writing down notes and turns around only for it to stop.

So they’re not taking notes on the lesson, they’re writing something else. He’s a bit disappointed that only three students have their math notebooks out and are taking real notes with pens. Yaoyorozu, Uraraka, and Shinsou. Iida looks extremely uncomfortable and the rest of the class is looking at the door expecting someone to walk in and say ‘April Fools!’

A note passes between two hands. His reflexes act up and in the split second of the paper passing hands he launches his piece of chalk at it and pins it to the wall.

“Hey.” He smiles innocently and goes to the back wall to retrieve his piece of chalk. But, unlike most teachers, he knows what privacy is so he doesn’t open the note or read it to himself and the class. He simply throws it into the trashcan and faces the room of people he’s supposed to teach despite being the same age as them.

“I don’t know why I’m teaching either but one thing's for sure. I’m allowed to expel you. If you pay attention, you might actually learn something.” The quirkless boy smiles dangerously as if challenging any of them to say anything about his credibility.

About halfway through the math class he can feel the atmosphere change as the class begins to respect him and see him as a teacher. They grow comfortable raising their hands and asking him questions or to slow down or speed up. He wishes he had a teacher he could ask questions without wondering if they would pretend they didn’t hear him.

Math passes by without another hitch, and they eventually speed through English, Modern Literature, and Quirk Theory. The bell rings and Izuku looks around satisfied. He’d threatened a few students with chalk and rulers but otherwise everything went over well. Aizawa stretches and attempts to sneak up on him but fails.

“Okay, your internships are next week so please choose from your options presented earlier this morning. We will be doing conditioning as it has come to my attention that many of you are too reliant on your quirks.” The underground hero grumbles out, Izuku nods in agreement and tenses before warning Jirou to cover her ears.

“I AM…… COMING THROUGH THE DOOR LIKE A NORMAL PERSON!” All Might enters the room not at all like a normal person. Todoroki and Jirou both flinch violently. Izuku tries his best to not react in disgust.

“All Might. You would do well to lower your voice as we have a student with a hearing quirk. If I am correct, it is extremely uncomfortable for people to be yelling at such a volume for her.” Izuku deadpans. All Might looks bashful and apologises. However the moment only lasts for a second as the small quirkless boy hands the number one hero a bucket and scraper.

“We will be conducting quirkless hand to hand combat training and conditioning without quirks today. There is no need for your help. Now, go scrape the gum off of desks and chairs like you were supposed to do two weeks ago.” The greenette points to the door which All Might walks sullenly out of, properly humiliated. Izuku hears him grumbling about being ordered around by a quirkless kid and reminds himself to kill him later before making eye contact with Jirou who definitely heard what he said. The little teacher raises a finger to his lips and she nods frantically, still processing the new information.

“What are you waiting for? Go change into your gym uniforms. Be at Ground Beta in ten minutes!” Aizawa yells out and watches his class scurry to the locker rooms like a bunch of ants.

Izuku looks up at his current guardian with an unusually unguarded annoyed expression on his face. The long haired UA teacher looks down at the student with surprise on his face.

“Nedzu wants to make me a permanent teacher, huh?” The greenette puffs out his cheeks exasperatedly. Aizawa wants to chuckle at the fact that the boy looks like an angry green chipmunk right now.

“Well, can you blame him? You’re basically exempt from all of your classes anyways. Don’t think he doesn’t know about the fact you’ve completed college and have literally no reason to be attending this school.” The erasure hero mentions offhandedly making the curly haired boy raise his eyebrows out of shock.

“Tch. He figured it out already? There’s a reason I chose Management, and not teaching. Also, we need to have a talk about the Todoroki boy later. I’m sure you’ve noticed it too.” Midoriya begins walking out of the classroom and onto the training grounds, suddenly dropping into a criss-crossed sitting position and leaning on his hand while he waits for the students to arrive.

Bakugou gets there first, hands stiffly clenched by his side as he eyes the little genius lethargically tearing apart blades of grass. Aizawa watches, impressed, when he goes to open his mouth, getting in a fighting stance aimed at the much shorter boy and is immediately shut down by a stern look from the piercing green eyes.

Next out is Todoroki who fidgets closer and closer to Izuku as time passes. Izuku scooches away from him, tentatively, not at all willing to talk to the boy.

Aizawa glares at his watch as every boy in the class comes onto the field, trickling out of the locker room before time is up and lets an exasperated expression rest on his face as the eleventh minute passes. He takes a step towards the girls’ locker room to knock on the door and tell them to hurry up.

“Don’t.” Izuku grabs his wrist and looks up at him sternly, eventually stretching out with a groan and standing on his feet, brushing the dust off the back of his pants and going on his tiptoes, tugging the underground hero down slightly to whisper in his ear.

“You do not know what the circ*mstances are. Do not embarrass them more than necessary. It is most likely a private matter they wouldn’t want to share with a grown man such as yourself. Give them five more minutes and if they’re not out by then, call Midnight, if she can’t come, I will go check.” He speaks quietly to the black haired man. Yaoyorozu was holding a hot water bottle to her abdomen during class today and seemed extremely nervous that he’d call her out. He’d also spotted her handing out Tylenol to Hagakure earlier. He’s also got a suspicion Uraraka isn’t eating enough. Maybe he shouldn’t assume but he’s been educated thoroughly by Mei who has absolutely no filter for the past few months.

“Okay, while we wait for the girls, start stretching and warming up!” Izuku shouts out, scolding the boys who are just standing awkwardly. They form a circle and begin their warm ups. Aizawa nods at Izuku as five more minutes pass. Midnight is too busy teaching her class and can’t come, only briefly yelling instructions at Izuku about what to do. The greenette wrings his hands nervously, hoping they won’t think he’s being weird or anything. He calms his thumping heart. Inko was always worse, talking in grotesque detail about her period to him and making him clean it out of the carpets when she leaked and taking out her emotions on him. Though the freckled boy doesn’t really know if it’s justified, grateful he doesn’t have to experience what she made look so horrible.

Izuku knocks on the girls’ locker room door and puts his ear against the wood. He can’t really hear anything. Are they not in there?

“Hello? Is anything wrong? It’s been sixteen minutes. Do you need me to get anything for you?” The fourteen year old boy calls out nervously. Nobody replies.

“I’m coming in, okay? Don’t worry, I’m covering my eyes, I won’t look at anything, I promise?” He twists the doorknob and puts his forearm over his eyes before entering the room. The freckled genius assesses the feel of the room. Distress. Izuku can’t feel anyone looking at him and can’t sense anyone’s presence in the main room. He blindly calls out, sitting on a bench because there’s no way he’s going to go inside the bathroom.

“Hello? It’s me, Midoriya Izuku! I have my eyes closed? Is anything going on? Do you need me to get anything or anyone?” Again he shouts out, his eyes still respectfully closed. There’s a quiet thump and creak of a door being opened. His arm shoots out, feeling the entrance door to make sure nobody is intruding. The green eyed boy sighs in relief when nobody is there.

“M-Midoriya-sensei?” Yaoyorozu calls out, she’s on his right, fairly far away, probably talking to him from a crack in the bathroom door.

“Yes? Hi, Yaoyorozu? Is anyone hurt? Is anything wrong? Do you need anything? Anyone? It’s me, please don’t call me sensei, I’m the same age as you and we’re friends. I swear on my life I’m covering my eyes, I would never ever do anything like-” He hears rummaging around the room and locker doors shutting. She cuts him off as he begins to ramble, trying to explain himself.

“You can open your eyes Midoriya-sens- uh. Everyone is dressed and the room is cleaned up now.” The black haired girl stands in front of him and coaxes him into opening his eyes for a few seconds while the male stubbornly keeps them pinched closed before detecting the slightly urgent tone in her voice and snapping them open, eyes locked on the bathroom door where she came from. It’s soundproof but he hears muffled voices in there.

“Is everything okay in there, Yaoyorozu? What’s keeping you all? Do you need any help? Is there anything I can do?” Izuku asks immediately, worried for whatever is going on in there.

“Well, originally we were late because... Because, uhm-” She looks flustered and looks at the ground with something akin to humiliation. He puts a hand on her shoulder reassuringly.

“You don’t have to tell me, if you don’t want to. However, if anyone is hurt, sick, or unable to participate for any reason I do need for you to tell me who and why.” The young business student tells her seriously. She looks relieved and thanks her friend. The hero course student tells him to wait for a second and retreats back to the bathroom before emerging with Ashido, Hagakure, and Jirou who give worried glances to the bathroom door.

“Is it really okay for him to be in here? What if he’s a pervert or something?” Ashido asks skeptically. He immediately bows in understanding as Yaoyorozu goes to defend him, telling them about how he kept his eyes stubbornly closed.

“Ah, it’s okay Yaoyorozu. I swear I’m not a pervert Ashido. I’m not romantically or sexually attracted to women at all.” The green haired boy confesses, rubbing his neck in embarrassment.

“Oh, so you’re gay?” Jirou tries to clarify, asking him bluntly. He turns bright red and shakes his head.

“Actually I’m aromantic and asexual.” Izuku tells them. Immediately the girl with headphone earlobes apologises and Yaoyorozu gives him a shocked look. However Hagakure squeals excitedly and goes over to embrace his head. Tentatively he returns the hug.

“Oh my God! I can’t believe I met another ace person!” The invisible girl exclaims and he laughs, understanding what she was so excited about. They briefly chat over their newly shared trait before Ashido clears her throat and his expression turns solemn again.

“Originally we were taking a bit of extra time because Hagakure was having really bad cramps and needed to lie down but then Uraraka just…” The pink skinned girl trails off and looks at the bathroom. It takes a few minutes but eventually Asui comes out of the bathroom and explains the situation in her typical blunt fashion.

“So Uraraka started throwing up? Is she still throwing up?” He asks, checking his watch. He’s been in here for ten minutes now. Aizawa is probably worried. They answer his questions with a yes and a no.

“Okay, here’s what we’re going to do. Hagakure, are you feeling well enough to participate in today’s activities?” The freckled business student sorts out the whole situation in record time, carrying Uraraka in his arms bridal style to Recovery Girl’s office, and having the rest of the girls trail him after extracting the confession that none of them are feeling either mentally or physically well enough to participate in today’s class. As he walks out of the locker room, he’s greeted with Midnight running towards them with a flustered expression on her face.

“Midoriya, what’s going on? Aizawa told me- Oh my God, Is she okay? What happene-” His homeroom teacher starts, looking like she might accuse Izuku of doing something sketchy before Jirou and Yaoyorozu explain what’s going on.

“So, since none of them are physically or mentally well enough to participate in today’s lesson, I will be escorting them to Recovery Girl’s office and spending some time there before resuming with my teaching of today’s lesson with the boys. Could you please inform Aizawa I will be there to supervise in thirty minutes for the last hour or so of class and that the girls will not be participating in any classes for the rest of the day and I will be needing six dismissal passes and phone calls to parents.” The greenette rapidly instructs her on what to do before speed walking to Recovery Girl’s office, making sure everyone is able to keep up comfortably. He makes sure she’s running towards ground Beta before turning the corner.

After what feels like a lifetime, he arrives in front of the youthful heroine’s office, panting slightly, only to find, to his disgrace, All Might. However, all is well because the UA nurse shooes him off after drinking in the sight of their group.

“Uraraka Ochako, threw up about twenty minutes ago, I suspect from both lack of food and some mental health issues.” He places her on a cot gently. The healing quirked woman, Chiyo Shuzenji sighs out worriedly, fussing over the brunette and questioning the other girls about their health. He respectfully leaves the room as she asks about their medical history and knocks ten minutes later so he can talk to them about what’s next.

“So, Hagakure, Jirou, Asui, Ashido, Yaoyorozu, Midnight will be here with dismissal slips soon. Uraraka, are you listening?” He gets a thumbs up from the pink cheeked girl. “Today we were going to be doing some conditioning to work on your stamina, and general fitness. Most importantly, however, we were supposed to be working on hand to hand combat. Because you have missed this lesson which is very important, you all will have to make it up another time. None of you are in trouble. Can you all decide on a time that works well for all of us after school for about two and a half hours so you can make up this lesson in the near future?” He asks, and continues to sort out the changes in their schedules, as well as inform them Hound Dog’s office is always open for them if they need it.

Thirty minutes pass in a blink of an eye, only Uraraka is still in the office, getting fluids in her body because she dehydrated herself from throwing up, as well as being lectured by Recovery Girl and scheduling weekly appointments with Hound Dog to work on her eating habits. The greenette excuses himself, and sprints back to Ground Beta, letting out a sigh of relief that the whole thing is over for now.

As Izuku approaches the training grounds he sees a large display of explosions and glaciers of ice and sighs, rolling his sleeves up.

He doesn’t have the patience to deal with two blubbering idiots with overpowered quirks right now.

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Barely 5’ 3 Izuku holds up a slightly taller 5’6 ashy blonde boy in his left hand by the back of his shirt like a puppy, and drags a 5’8 red and white haired boy by the ear with his right towards Aizawa who has the audacity to fail to muffle his laughter at such a sight.

“Aizawa, why didn’t you erase their quirks? Look at the training field, it’s going to take forever to melt!” The quirkless boy says with such a disgraced voice, clucking at the two slightly traumatised boys who kneel at his feet obediently.

“I could only erase one at a time, but it all worked out anyway, right?” The long haired man gives him a smug smile that makes the younger glare.

“Now, I think It was very clear that this exercise was meant to be quirkless, am I correct?” Izuku starts off his rant, eventually letting them go after giving them a long scolding and forcing Todoroki to melt the block of ice. They go back to their pairs where they attempt to engage in hand to hand combat. After watching all the pairs struggle for an acceptable amount of time Izuku yells for them to stop and form a circle.

“That was difficult, yes? Only Ojirou, Kirishima and Shouji were close to being competent. If any of you are unable to use your quirk due to circ*mstance you’re practically doomed. I want you all to watch me and Aizawa spar. Neither of us will use our quirks, if you want to ask a question or review a move just yell out pause and we will explain the action as well as when to use it.” The freckled boy explains, handing out notebooks to each of them. They all give him doubtful looks. Him, a scrawny fourteen year old taking on a seasoned pro?

“Is this really a fair fight? Especially since Aizawa-sensei is going to have his capture weapon at his disposal?” Iida yells out, chopping the air. Izuku gives him a look and he shuts up.

“Why don’t you watch?” He just says confidently, gesturing for them to scootch backwards and make a bigger space in the center for them to fight.

“Ready, Eraser?” The green haired boy asks cheekily. The underground hero gives him a withering glare.

“Problem Child-” Aizawa starts, huffing out a breath. Izuku takes his chance, the man has no air in his lungs, it’s a moment of weakness. The petite boy launches at the taller man who avoids him by a hair, grabbing his arm and flipping him over, faltering when Izuku kicks him in the balls and escapes the death grip.

“Pause!” A boy calls out, his name is Kaminari, Izuku thinks. They halt in their positions and look at him expectantly.

“Isn’t it unfair to attack your opponent when they’re not ready?” He asks dumbly, co*cking his head. Izuku groans.

“Do you think when you’re fighting a villain, they’re going to wait for you to be ready? Take every chance you’ve got.” The curly haired boy doesn’t tell them not to attack first unless it’s a surprise attack, they’ve got to figure out some stuff on their own.

“I think I understand?” The blonde says in a questioning voice. Immediately, Aizawa tries to get a hit in but the freckled boy was expecting it and deflects it.

He jumps up, away from his opponent and waits for him to approach. Soon enough the pro hero comes sprinting towards him, trying to circle him to confuse him. Shinsou pauses and asks him to explain what he’s doing. Izuku sweeps at his feet and trips him, before walking over to pin him on the ground. Suddenly Aizawa jumps up and aims a kick at the younger which he easily catches and twists then bends at an unnatural angle before pinning him to the ground, arm behind his back. Todoroki pauses then, asking about how he caught the kick. Both Izuku and Aizawa tell them never to throw a kick unless it's a last resort or you’re sure it won’t be caught.

The greenette lets the elder go and smiles when the man’s capture weapon raises with him, apprehensive, knowing this will help even the battle as Izuku easily beat him in the first match. He lets the man come to him and grabs onto him like a koala, putting him off balance, then flipping him. Kirishima and Tokoyami pause and ask about that. The capture weapon shoots out and wraps around his ankle. Izuku falls, hitting his chin on the pavement and grabs the fabric, twisting his leg to escape the hold. Bakugou, surprisingly enough, pauses and asks for them to do it again in slow motion so he can see how to escape binds. Sero then asks Aizawa how to prevent this. He spars with Aizawa doing the pause exercise for another twenty minutes, ending their demonstration after wrapping up the black haired man with his own capture weapon. He won six of the ten spars.

They go over techniques and how to make your own fighting style for a while before doing some more conditioning and ending on one on one quirkless spars.

“That’s the bell. Go get changed and get ready for your next class. Remember, essay due on Tuesday!” Aizawa yells out. Izuku wipes the sweat off of his face. He didn’t get to try out the advice Toga gave him last time they hung out.

“You were going easy on me.” The adult says quietly in a deep voice. Izuku startles at this, he could tell?

“I could say the same to you, Eraser.” He replies, leaving the conversation at that. Eventually the boy remembers to inform the man that the girls will be doing a make up lesson on Thursday after school.

Kirishima, Iida, Kaminari, and Sero come up to him and ask about the girls. He averts his eyes and tells them they should ask the girls tomorrow in class. It’s up to them what they want to tell everyone and what they don’t.

Shinsou lingers behind to talk to him about the Sports Festival and though it’s but a fraction of the conversation they need to have, it appeases them both for the moment as they head to their respective destinations.

“You’re a good teacher, you know.” Aizawa tells him as they stroll leisurely up the steps back to the classroom. Izuku bows his head and smiles, but doesn’t say anything. A groan escapes both of their mouths when Nedzu is splayed out on the teacher’s desk, sipping from a cup of tea.

“What now, Nedzu?” Izuku whines out.

“I want you to be a teacher.” As the greenette is about to open his mouth to protest by saying he already is one, Aizawa is speaking up for him.

“He’s a child, Nedzu.” The adult he trusts objects, putting his hand out protectively in front of the shorter.

“A child with a bachelor’s degree in five different languages, business management, mathematics, teaching, psychology, and several more.” The stoat retorts, a crowd begins to gather at the door as the boys finish changing. Izuku winces. Does everyone really have to know this? Whispers erupt through the classroom as they discuss his impressive repertoire.

“Nedzu. Enough. I will not be a permanent teacher at a hero school.” His tone is definite. No room for discussion available. Both the erasure hero and albino’s mouths shut as they remember Izuku hates heroes and adults and this is definitely not a smart career for him.

“Out, Nedzu. I have a class to attend, and you’re teaching it.” The quirkless boy walks towards the UA principal’s office with purpose, easily bypassing all the security measures and sitting in his usual seat. Eventually the stoat catches up to him and sits in his spot.

Like usual, he offers the young boy a cup of tea. However, the atmosphere in the office is different than it normally is. It’s tense and dangerous, not playful in the slightest.

“It’s been a while since we’ve done this, hasn’t it?” The quirked animal comments. Izuku gives him a hard stare. He can see it in the other’s eyes. Determination. Confidence he can coax the younger to become a fine hero. Confidence Izuku must crush.The checkerboard rises up from the table for the first time since they ended in a stalemate.

“Let’s play a game of chess, Nedzu.”

Chapter 14

Chapter Text

“What are we wagering this time, Midoriya?” Beady black eyes stare at him as he lines up his pieces.

“If you win, I continue to teach class 1-A’s hero studies class with All Might as my assistant teacher.” He places a knight down on a black square and looks up into the principal’s expressionless gaze.

“And if you win?” The stoat sips his tea nonchalantly.

“You let me leave UA.” Izuku puts down his last pawn and leans forward, hands clasped together. Nedzu glares at him and puts his cup down with a thunk, leaning forward and mirroring the other’s position.

“No.” The boy’s expression goes slack for a second in surprise, because when has Nedzu himself ever backed down from a challenge?

“I will not play on those terms when you have a seventy percent chance of winning. The stakes are too high and I refuse to play against you if that’s what we’re betting on.” The albino picks up his cup and takes another sip, radiating a superior air and Izuku remembers this is the man? Animal? In charge and he shouldn’t have forgotten that fact.

The room drowns in silence as the two intelligent beings in the room analyse each other in depth. Izuku notes how the other’s nose twitches every thirty to forty seven seconds and how his fur looks a bit mussed up on his left arm. How his suit has lint on the right ankle of his pant leg and how the tie is crooked and striped. The way the principal is carefully moving his eyes as little as possible as to not betray the information that he’s wearing black contacts and how he seems a bit disgruntled as time goes on. That quirk of his seems to actually be a mutation if the way he acts, and holds himself that would be otherwise impossible for a typical, quirkless stoat is clearly the result of a mutated brain and body. The way Nedzu is the only living thing that has ever come close to being as good at guarding their expression as his is that he’s ever met.

Nedzu watches the boy in front of him with a bit of worry. The hair is clearly a wild beast that has long since been abandoned attempts of trying to tame it, the freckles that used to be so distinct have begun to fade on his face and there’s a burn on his face that’s clearly being covered up with thick layers of foundation and concealer that takes years of practice that neither of them have ever mentioned. That quirklessness of his is demonstrated by the lack of height and muscle mass despite vigorous training and a good diet. He sees how the boy’s bright eyes are slightly unfocused and more dilated than they should be. His prescription is getting worse with every passing day. Soon enough he’ll need to wear glasses or contacts. The way Izuku is the only living thing that is better than even himself at guarding their expression that he’s ever met.

They both wonder to themselves what the one in front of them would have possibly gone through to become like this.

The bell rings and the two little geniuses wince slightly at the sound and then let their sharp eyes note the fact that the other reacted in a similar fashion to a loud and sudden noise before letting the realisation that they’ve sat there in silence just simply watching the other for at least an hour sink in as they bid each other goodbye and submerge themselves in deep thought as they review the information collected from the session they’ve just experienced.

Aizawa takes one look at the dazed boy waiting for him outside of his classroom and sighs, putting his hand on the shorter’s shoulder and being pleasantly surprised he doesn’t jump or flinch in the slightest but just starts walking forward as if on autopilot.

It’s odd to Izuku, when he finally snaps out of it, that Aizawa asks about him and doesn’t interrupt him, doesn’t talk about himself. The adult doesn’t compliment his manners or how polite he is because Aizawa knows better. It’s been trained into the child, branded into his head because being pleasant is a way to survive.

It’s all so different and he doesn’t know how to adapt, to survive in such a different environment but he has to try. He just hopes he can get up at least a facade of success. When Aizawa asks about Inko and Hisashi, he doesn’t know how to explain or how to talk about it. He’s never talked about it to anyone else and it’s weird to be with someone who cares what he says and doesn’t tell him he’s annoying or talks too much or to shut up. The pro hero asks if he still loves Inko. He doesn’t know what the man wants to hear. How is he supposed to answer this question when he doesn’t know what he’s supposed to say? So he says the truth, at least part of it, Yes he does. But he doesn’t say he has little compassion for her because she still annoys him and makes the thought of her cause his stomach to churn. People always tell him family is important. They always seem so pleased when they ask about his mother and he tells them the lies about how he loves her so much and she cares for him and yes, he wants to participate in mother’s day card making, yes, he will give it to Inko, she’ll love it. Izuku learns people are happy hearing beautiful lies.

The little boy doesn’t tell his elementary teachers that she’ll probably yell at him when he gets home because she hates events, hates holidays, hates the day before vacations. And it’s mother’s day. Her day. He’ll have to work in the garden until dark and make sure it’s all about her. She’ll probably scream at him and be displeased because he got her the wrong present even though she didn’t ask for anything or be mad he didn’t do something she never told him to.

Mother’s day is like her second, less intense birthday. Birthdays are so easy to mess up. Even if it’s your own. One year he didn’t sing loud enough for her when they were bringing over the cake and she locked him in his room for two whole days, hearing him cry and telling him he didn’t care about her or love her which he would scream back, horrified, that it wasn’t true, begging and insisting he loves her and always will and that he does care and please don’t leave him. Because he’s about six years old and all he wants is her approval and in his eyes she’s always right.

Later that year he’ll realise it’s not normal for your mother to throw knives at you when she’s mad, hoping you’ll dodge them even though she’s making sure you stay still and stand there, crying as she screams at you for doing something wrong and you insist you’re telling the truth and begging her not to kill herself as she always threatens because then it will be his fault and it’s not something to be proud of when you know the most curse words out of your entire class, making him at least a little popular, when he learned them from his mother yelling at him for hours at a time at least once a week.

Though when he learns this, he won’t rat her out, or let himself escape, because he doesn’t want her to be taken away. When he sees his teacher’s face as he tells her what happened last night because she asked and he’s child and children always tell the truth, he’ll lie and say he read it in a book and made it up and she’ll be worried for a while but eventually tell him lying is wrong and leave him alone.

Aizawa asks if he still loves his mother and Izuku calculates his answer, remembering this is a teacher, adult, and hero. And tells him yes, searching the man for signs that he said the right thing, finding nothing and tensing, hoping he won’t get in trouble for being wrong. Maybe it will be okay because it’s the truth, just barely.

Izuku still loves his mother. She did lots of things for him, took care of him when he was a child, drove him around, had playful conversations, told him stories, let him tell her stories, congratulated him when he won awards or got a perfect score on a test, let him have friends over when he still had some, bought him stuff when he needed it, took him on vacation every summer. The problems came when she got angry. Sometimes she did things unconsciously too.

For example they’d be having a normal conversation in her car. He’d be telling a story and would be absorbed with telling every detail of it or trying to crack a joke and hear her laugh and know that he did that but would grow annoyed when she interrupted every word with a question that he would obviously never know the answer to. He would huff out and continue only to get interrupted again and again and would have to explain things to her that she already knew, or weren’t related to the story, or explain why he didn’t know the answer to the question. After enough of these questions he would grow snappy and annoyed because the pleasant atmosphere was ruined and his story wasn’t funny or entertaining to him anymore. Then she would grow mad and it’s his fault. He’s not allowed to be angry. He knows better than to get angry.

That’s what happened when he told her stories or tried to talk to her at all. Towards the end Izuku avoided talking to his mother at all costs. Of course she noticed and promptly yelled at him, asking if she should sit further away from him or make sure she was out of his sight, always on a holiday or important date too. Thanksgiving day he chose to sit next to his father on the other side of the table from her and she didn’t like that, accusing him of not loving her and not wanting to see her or be near her. Of course, even a holiday about family had to be all about her.

Other common occurrences included but are not limited to, the little boy who everyone described as plain telling her about something he saw in a restaurant the other day and how ridiculous a customer was being and how the waitress told her what was going on. Or maybe telling her something funny someone did that was slightly inappropriate but still humorous. The worst is going out to eat and seeing how horrible she is to the servers.

“She ordered a bottle of pinot noir and pancakes with strawberries and whipped cream every Friday at 9:00 in the morning. Incidentally this is the same time a man who runs a respected vineyard and has his own wine brand comes in every week for breakfast. My waitress told me that she tries to purposefully place them next to each other every time. And this is a weekly occurrence too. So, this lady is drinking a whole bottle of pinot noir with pancakes coated in maple syrup, mind you, at nine in the morning, and the man next to her who runs a vineyard and is like a professional wine taster just looks at her in disgust, shaking his head, and says, ‘that is not a good combination’ and they glare at each other until both of them leave separately. Sometimes she orders another bottle and the man just trash talks her audibly to all the servers, making sure she can hear him talking about her in a horrified tone, every week. I’m eating my breakfast while all of this is happening and the waitress told me the lady tips like 5% and she’s drinking one or two bottles of wine and pancakes, clearly well off, only to not tip. Isn’t that ridiculous? It really sucks because this other dude got almost one hundred dollars worth of food for himself and tipped nothing.” Izuku rambles on about the breakfast place he went to a few days ago to Inko as they drive to school, ready to continue, because there’s more of the story to tell.

“Wow, you know, when I go out to eat, I always tip ten to fifteen percent because when I was in high school I worked at a restaurant for a few weeks. I know what it’s like so I always make sure to tip generously. No matter how bad the service is I always tip.” She says, talking about herself even though that’s really not what the story was about and Izuku wasn’t talking about her or asking her. He’s not blaming her but she seems to have taken it that way. And fifteen percent or ten percent isn’t that good, you should always tip a minimum of twenty percent unless they’re super bad. He doesn’t say anything and just goes along with her rant about how she always tips and she’s a good person that everyone loves and she’s friends with all the owners of restaurants in the city which isn’t true.

Whenever they go out to restaurants together, Izuku is embarrassed to be with her. He wants to apologise to the wait staff at the end because she’s so short with them and always speaks to them in a condescending tone or tells them how horrible the food is or laughs and tells them in the fakest nice tone she can manage that the food took such a long time she thought they forgot about her.

It’s always about Inko. Always about Mommy. Always about her. And Izuku’s tired of it. Any achievement he gets is because of her or because of their family. He wins the spelling bee? It’s because she’s friends with the principal. He wins an art contest? She just knows it’s because she baked the art teacher a pie the other day. He’s happy he understands something really well and is really good at something, like a language? It’s because she used to be fluent in French and she’s so smart her genes must’ve passed on. Never once is there a mention of his own intelligence, his own hard work. As if he didn’t earn these things himself. Everything is because of something related to her.

Izuku wants to be selfish for once. He wants it to be about him, his own efforts, for once. Can’t he earn something on his own without her voice mocking him, saying it’s because of her?

It’s all about her.

Appease her. Clean the kitchen for your hard working mother. Get good grades because your mother works so hard the least you could do is try.

He’s so tired.

Is it worth it?

If it’s all because of her, does his hard work even matter?

When he stops winning awards and getting good grades because the motivation seems to leave his body one day, she screams and yells and asks him why and he doesn’t really know but she hates that answer because he should know. He has to know. He has to tell her why. But Izuku can’t muster up the strength to admit he wants to kill himself, has tried to kill himself, and just feels so so so sad, that he can’t smile, can’t feel anything, that he can’t find a reason to get out of bed and nothing is interesting.

She asks him where that smart little boy who was always so kind went.

He thinks she killed him.

He tells her he doesn’t know. That he’ll try harder, try to do better.

She tells him he will be better. He won’t try. He will.

There’s no other option.

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The green haired boy stands in front of the run down building that really doesn’t look like the hide out of the League of villains with his hands in his pockets and stares up at the window. Even though they’re boarded up and you can only peek through the cracks in the wood to get a view of the street, Izuku can almost see Kurogiri pouring drinks, Toga idly throwing knives at the dart board and occasionally ‘missing’ and ‘accidentally’ stabbing Dabi or Tomura in the shoulder, Twice debating with himself over politics, Dabi making snarky comments at Tomura who threatens to disintegrate the other’s face while playing a game of some sort.

He can almost feel the fake leather of the barstools beneath him, almost smell how the room reeks of cigarette smoke, spilled alcohol and blood. Inside, Izuku longs to slam open the door and be greeted with a knife from Toga and warm, happy welcomes and laughter from the others.

It’s almost like being slapped when he can nearly hear Tomura’s voice asking him to be a villain. Do they want him to be a villain? All for One does, but what about them? Is this going to change things? Does he want to be a villain? Izuku doesn’t think so.

A car alarm blares in the distance as he walks forward to open the door and walk up the rotting wooden stairs. All of a sudden he feels sick to his stomach as he remembers his conversation with Donyoku. He was being casual and annoying him on purpose, he could’ve died. That’s their boss. Will they start to hate him? Will it ever be the same as it once was?

He feels himself being repelled from the building like oil and water as the centuries old man’s voice rings in his head.

“How would you like a quirk?”

For the first time in months, Izuku turns around and doesn’t show up in the bar for a night of games and laughter. Instead, he goes home.

Inside the bar, Toga stirs her drink with her straw and looks longingly at the door, all alone as slowly, one by one, everyone else retreats to their rooms and the sky grows dark. He didn’t end up coming. Tomura was right.

The fourteen year old walks at a painfully slow pace as he goes away from the villain base and to the apartment, as if he’s hoping someone will run after him and grab his shoulder and bring him back to the bar, dragging him in with a smile on both of their faces.

Eventually the street lights flicker on and the sky swirls into a light purple and the green haired boy reaches the front door of the apartment. He looks down the road. It’s empty. Maybe it was a ridiculous wish anyways. As if a villain would want to be his friend.

Aizawa takes one look at the miserable child in front of him and stands up from his seat on the couch where he was reading 1-A’s papers on the Hero Industry and cautiously, slowly, starts to walk towards the boy. Approaching him as if he were a skittish animal. In the back of his mind he can hear it starting to rain.

Drip.

He takes a tentative step forward and gets no reaction out of the boy, it’s as if Izuku can’t even see him.

Drop.

Another step. Aizawa notices how downtrodden the kid looks as he gets closer, slow as can be, still, the freckled genius doesn’t so much as blink.

Drip.

Drop.

Drip.

Drop.
Drip.
Drop.
Drip.

The rain begins to speed up and starts pounding against the roof making pitter patter noises that would be relaxing on any other night. Izuku turns his head and looks out the window as the rain comes down rapidly, in sheets, he reaches up and swipes his hand across his eyes and realises his face is wet.

Aizawa begins to run towards the crying child who is staring at his shining, tear covered fingers in shock and the rain crashes against the walls of the apartment and clouds the view out the window, making the green trees ripple and blur as water streams down the cool glass.

Lightning flashes through the sky and makes the previously dim room bathe in a stunningly bright white light if only for a second. Aizawa reaches the crying child and holds his head to his chest, not asking any questions. Izuku’s hands hang limply at his sides as the adult he once thought he could never trust holds him tightly as if he’s the only thing tying him to this earth.

He raises up his hands hesitantly and wraps his arms around the taller’s torso and lets his head lean on the man’s chest, crying in earnest now. Thunder rumbles from somewhere far away. And Izuku cries, he lets it all out. He mourns his life and grips onto the underground hero as if he’s going to disappear if his arms loosen too much.

The crying child apologises over and over, not telling the black haired man what for until he sniffs about forty five minutes later and looks at the other’s shirt, dimly realising they’re sitting on the couch now. Izuku laughs wetly as Aizawa teases him for apologising about getting his shirt damp. He feels like his face is numb and swollen and warm and sticky and damp from crying but he knows it looks like he’s just a bit tired and nothing has happened at all. It makes him feel awfully alone, he can cry and nobody will know unless they see the tears streaming down his cheeks.

There’s a moment of silence that Izuku would normally fill, not being able to stand the absence of constant conversation because that always reminds him of the tension in the air that would always for some reason, make Inko so angry. Silence is dangerous. The black haired man wants to ask if he wants to talk about it but knows there is nothing Izuku would rather do than ignore anything that just happened. The silence hangs in the air, looming over them, daring them to talk to each other.

The elder doesn’t ask. He waits for the boy to tell him. And when the greenette stays silent, eventually dosing off on his shoulder, not really wanting to talk about it at all. Well, Aizawa thinks that’s just fine.

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“Exams are next week.” Aizawa informs him as they walk towards the prestigious school speedily, almost late. The greenette finishes stuffing an untoasted frosted blueberry pop tart in his mouth, struggling to swallow the dry breakfast for a second before giving the other a suspicious look.

“I’m aware, why are you telling me this?” Izuku asks, raising his eyebrow and looking up at his temporary guardian as they swipe their identification cards at the gate and enter the building, rushing towards their respective classrooms. They wouldn’t make him participate in the exam, right? Oh wait, he’s a teacher. If Nedzu makes him test the children he’s going to stuff his red sneakers up his ass.

“Why don’t you take a guess, Midoriya?” The 1-A teacher deadpans and slides open the door, immediately yelling at the class to calm down. A green head of hair bobs down the hallway and slides open the last door, Midnight isn’t there yet. The entire room falls into hushed whispers and Izuku can’t help but wish he didn’t have to attend class at all. Maybe being a student is a waste, this isn’t what he’d thought it would be like.

He eyes the security cameras staring at him mockingly and wonders if Nedzu will ever let him leave, if he’ll be forced into the hero course, if he can ever escape, if he can ever be a normal citizen like he’s always wanted.

Maybe he doesn’t want to realise that before he’s Nedzu’s friend, he’s a student, a prize, a powerful mind that the principal wants only for himself and will do anything to keep. He doesn’t want to realise Aizawa was just faking it all and he’s just there to make sure Izuku doesn’t run away or escape, an emotional tie to this sh*thole. A way to keep him pinned into place.

They don’t love him as a person, who would? With all that long buried trauma ready to surface at the slightest touch. It’s his brain, the only one that’s ever been able to compete with Nedzu’s. A weapon. He pays attention in his classes, to how they keep an extra eye on him, and the security camera is always focused on him. He’s irreplaceable, important, vital, they can’t let him escape.

Precious, but not loved.

He trudges down the hall to 1-A and stands at the desk next to the erasure teacher, feeling down and not really wanting to do anything at all. The greenette tries to ignore the rush of warmth and happiness he feels when the elder rests a hand on his shoulder and casts him a concerned glance.

All Might bursts in, less enthusiastically than last time, but still loud enough to make both him and Jirou tense up in surprise and alertness. Aizawa shoots him a warning glare and Yagi immediately goes stiff and quiet.

“Today we will be splitting up.” Izuku starts to announce, having discussed with the girls that doing the make up lesson during class would be better so Aizawa could supervise as well.

“Girls will be doing hand to hand combat with Aizawa and myself and boys will be conditioning with All Might. Go change into your uniforms.” His instructions are blunt and clear. He pretends not to notice Yaoyorozu and Tokoyami’s worried looks. He’d been completely silent during lunch, opting out of the conversation to sulk instead.

The quirkless boy notices how Todoroki gets up slowly from his seat at the back of the classroom. He must’ve chosen it to survey his peers. Discreetly, Izuku fades into the shadows and reappears in front of the heterochromatic boy who startles slightly before giving him an apathetic look and an annoyed frown but the green eyed boy can see the glint of hope in his eyes.

“Aizawa, please excuse me and Todoroki for a bit. I will come and help with teaching when we are done.” The curly haired boy doesn’t grace the official UA teacher with a chance to reply before tugging the taller’s ear and dragging him out of the classroom. He winks at an ashy blonde who is standing in the doorway, glaring at him, standing in his way.

“Kacchan, it would be in your best interests to move.” The littlest teacher deadpans, relishing in the way his childhood bully’s face morphs into one of resignation and a small amount of fear as he scrambles away to the locker rooms.

“Midoriya-sens-” The half and half boy starts. Izuku holds up a hand and sighs, not stopping his fast paced strides into an abandoned hallway. The third years are rarely at school these days anyways,

“Please, just call me Midoriya. It sounds weird to call me sensei when I’m the same age as you.” He sighs, running a hand through his tangled hair and then giving up as his fingers catch on a mass of knots.

“Why did you want to talk to me?” The youngest Todoroki blurts out, worry and hope painted on his face and a frown marring his expression.

“Honestly, I’m pretty sure it’s the other way around.” He points out, regretting his decision. Why the hell did he volunteer to talk to the boy he’s been avoiding for so long?

“What do you mean?” Todoroki questions, Izuku inwardly judges everyone who claimed this kid had a poker face. Honestly, could he be easier to read?

“I guess I’ll start out with this first then. Todoroki, I have reason to believe you may have ADHD, I have taken the liberty of interviewing my fellow teachers and the results have come out positive in every subject except for math. Would it be okay if I asked you some questions?” The quirkless boy states. He pulls up two chairs when the taller opts to stay silent, looking conflicted.

“I’m not messed up. There’s nothing wrong with me.” The heterochromatic boy mumbles, looking at the ground, ashamed, his shoulders tense and angry.

“I never said that, Todoroki. There’s nothing wrong with you. I think this could help you be able to do things like schoolwork and training easier.” Izuku tries to placate the other.

“I get good grades though.” A protest sounds from the quirked boy’s lips with a confused expression spreading on his face.

“That’s true. However, I would like to ask you some questions. You are not in trouble. I promise.” He says seriously, taking out a clipboard with a sheet of questions on it and a pencil. All the younger boy can do is nod dumbly.

“Can you rate how familiar or relatable these statements are for you on a scale of 1-10, 10 being extremely relatable and 1 being unfamiliar to you?” Izuku asks, putting his pencil to the paper. Todoroki nods again, feeling very small all of a sudden. He just wants it to be over.

“I have trouble following through or completing tasks like homework, chores, or projects, especially with time limits.” The greenette reads out before raising his head to look at the boy across from him.

“Nine.” The blue and grey eyed boy tries to answer nonchalantly and fails miserably.

“I often hyperfocus on topics that I am working on and interest me for extended periods of time.” Izuku reads the text off of the sheet of paper. Of course this is only to triple check his suspicions before getting an actual doctor. And maybe some of these are familiar to him but he’s not going to self diagnose because this is not all of what ADHD is.

“Nine.” The taller boy hates how these statements all make sense to him and he honestly understands and relates because this is what it’s like on a daily basis.

“I have found I have a limited attention span and have difficulty focusing on topics for long periods of time and get frustrated when I cannot comprehend topics due to this.”

“Ten.” He thinks about how frustrated his father gets when he can’t focus on ‘training’ and how much he hates that he can’t just pay attention because it would make it a lot easier and a lot less painful if he could just focus.

“I am very fidgety and hyperactive, needing to be active at all times, multitask in order to work efficiently, or feel easily restless.” Izuku watches the boy with intent eyes. He’s clearly uncomfortable and is gripping the edge of his seat so hard he thinks it might break. There’s probably some repressed trauma there. After all, it takes one to know one.

“Eight.”

“I have low frustration tolerance, trouble coping with stress and frequent mood swings.” The quirkless boy feels like he knows how the boy is going to reply to this after seeing the younger boy so stressed out about the fact he had procrastinated on a paper that it made him more stressed and angry and his solution was to not work on it because it made him more stressed out.

“Ten.” The boy who refuses to use half of his quirk thinks about the times he was goaded into using his fire and how if he is angry he heats up and singes his uniform more often than he would like to admit.

“I often experience difficulty sleeping, planning, organising, or prioritising.” The fluffy haired teen flips to the next sheet of paper. Over twenty more questions to go. And judging by how pale the other boy is starting to get as he realises how he is able to understand each statement they won’t get through this whole thing.

“Ten.” The half white half red haired boy notices his leg shaking and stops it, realising after he stops moving how much more stressed out and restless he feels. He looks around, almost blocking out the question and focuses on a pile of dirt in a corner. It makes him feel weird and uncomfortable and he hopes someone will clean it up. Izuku watches him fiddle with his fingers and hands him a pen, the boy flicks it back and forth at a rapid pace. He writes down his observations on the boy and how he’s stimming.

Todoroki grits his teeth as the questions continue and he gives them honest scores, all of them being higher than seven and feels frustrated. There’s nothing wrong with him. Abruptly, he stands up, looking at the floor with a dark, flustered, embarrassed, angry, mess of expressions on his face. He feels Midoriya studying him for a second before standing up and putting their chairs away without another word. It’s time for them to stop.

They walk to the training grounds in silence. Finally when the door is in sight, his teacher suddenly stops and gives him a serious look.

“I will be here when you choose to talk to me. I won’t run away. Tell me whenever it feels right. I can help.” Before Todoroki can grace the greenette with an answer the door jolts open and Izuku all but sprints away to the group of girls to teach them hand to hand combat.

He walks towards the track where the males are running laps and jogs around, deep in thought. Midoriya hadn’t explicitly said he knew what was happening but it was clear to both of them that Izuku isn’t dumb. Maybe, just maybe, someone noticed for one.

The quirkless teenager teaches the girls of the class who are listening with rapt attention how to take down an opponent without once glancing at the other boy.

Maybe he can do for Todoroki, what he always wished someone would do for him.

Notice.

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Nedzu stares at him with his beady, naturally scarlet eyes, his contacts sitting in their case, long forgotten, right next to him.

Izuku stares right back with his unnaturally red eyes with black dots encircling them.

“I’m afraid I don’t understand, Midoriya.” The albino admits, making the younger crack a smile.

“Sharingan!” The greenette shouts out dramatically, a headband with a leaf drawn on notebook paper tied around his head as he makes random hand symbols and flicks the principal on his forehead.

Clearly though, the other is not amused, as he just looks at his student with disappointment in his gaze. The quirkless boy lets himself enjoy this moment, not thinking about his doubts of the shorter’s motivation.

“You know who you remind me of, Nedzu?” The stoat co*cks his head and Izuku takes that as a cue to continue.

“Kurapika.”

“Who?”

“Holy sh*t. You uncultured swine.”

“I am in no way related to pigs, Midoriya.”

The naturally green eyed boy internally notes that Nedzu has neither watched Naruto nor Hunter x Hunter and shakes his head, taking out the contacts and putting them in their case. The quirked mammal goes for his black contacts, ignoring the scrutinising gaze of the one across from him as he places them back in his eyes.

“So, I think we can agree that chess is a no go for now.” Izuku states, rummaging through his bag as Nedzu plops two sugarcubes into his tea and takes a sip, humming in agreement.

“How about bridge?” The greenette pulls out a deck of playing cards with triumph and the stoat grins mischievously.

“Midoriya, how do you feel about us being bridge partners?” He proposes evilly, shuffling the deck with ease. For a moment Izuku wonders how he’s doing it without opposable thumbs but shakes the thought out of his head before nodding excitedly at the principal.

“Who are we going to play against?” Izuku ponders, putting his finger on his chin, looking up at the ceiling thoughtfully.

“See if you can manage to catch Aizawa and Hizashi. They’ve been partners in bridge for years now. Maybe they’ll be proficient enough to give us a challenge.” Nedzu suggests, letting the boy split the deck before continuing to shuffle.

It takes all of seven minutes and thirty two seconds for Izuku to burst back into the room with two adult pro heroes slung over his shoulders. Nedzu snaps a quick picture at the scene of two adults incapacitated by a child almost two feet shorter than each of them.

He places the pro heroes Eraser Head and Present Mic diagonally across from each other and flicks them both on the forehead, effectively snapping them out of their daze and bringing them to attention.

“Wh- why are w-” Aizawa starts, before immediately catching sight of the pile of thirteen cards in front of him and connecting the dots and going pale.

“Aren’t you going to sort your cards?” Izuku asks in a pleasant tone as he counts his points nonchalantly.

“Bridge. You want us to play bridge. Against you two.” The erasure hero states in disbelief. Hizashi’s jaw drops to the floor.

“Yep.” The greenette says, stuffing their cards in their hands and watching them sort slowly, resigning to their fate of being humiliated by two geniuses.

“I will start.” Nedzu announces. Yamada counts his points happily. Fifteen. That’s enough to bid. Maybe they have a chance. He and Shouta have been playing partners for a decade now. This is Nedzu and Midoriya’s first time playing together.

“Three diamonds.” The stoat says, as an opening bid. Hizashi’s mouth goes dry. How is he going to bid if they’re already up so high? Eventually, he resigns and passes. Aizawa frowns.

“Three spades.” Izuku pipes up, smiling wide. Nedzu rearranges his hand and smirks. Aizawa reluctantly passes, his hand containing about six points.

The long haired man puts down the ace of clubs with confidence and watches attentively as Nedzu lays out his hand on the board. The stoat has two spades only. A jack and a five. He eyes his own hand. Can the kid really finesse this?

His answer comes when the albino mammal never lays out his clubs. A void. His diamonds are impressive and hearts are mediocre. Spades are without a doubt his weakest suit. So why is Midoriya grinning like a small child on Christmas morning?

Aizawa gets reminded to never doubt nor underestimate Midoriya Izuku ever again when the child scores a baby slam and begins talking through his strategy with the principal in depth. Yamada gives him a withering look and looks more tired than Shouta has ever seen him.

They end up playing two rounds before Aizawa and Hizashi simply refuse to play another game, having finally won once on their eighth try. Both of the little geniuses deflate before putting the cards away.

“The bell rang thirty minutes ago.” The long haired man says to the younger boy who whines out protests as they walk down the street to his apartment. Izuku crosses his arms and pouts while he waits for the hero to unlock his door.

“It’s only five o’clock and I know better than to assume you haven’t finished your homework by now.” Aizawa says, having noticed the petite boy doing his homework whenever he was dummy.

“What do you want to do?” Izuku questions, flinging his backpack onto his bed and changing into more comfortable clothes.

“How about you decide this time?” The underground hero proposes, taking out a stack of papers he needs to grade. The apartment bathes in silence for a good ten minutes before Izuku builds up the courage to awkwardly propose his wants.

“Ca- can I bake something?” The quirkless boy mumbles out, stumbling over his words. Aizawa raises his eyebrows but nods enthusiastically.

“Do you want me to help or do you want to do it alone?” He questions, moving his work to the kitchen island and bar stools so he can at least keep the other company.

“Alone. If that’s okay.” Izuku nearly whispers out the last three words but the black haired man hears it anyways and nods, delving into his work as casually as he can. It shouldn’t have been much of a surprise that the kid wanted to bake anyways. He’s noticed the unsalted butter, flour, sugar, baking powder, and active dry yeast popping up for the past few months.

He pretends not to notice the child shyly playing music quietly as he gets out the ingredients and begins mixing them together without a recipe, like it’s muscle memory.

Gradually though, Izuku gets comfortable and plays his music louder, occasionally chatting with the elder and sitting next to him, requesting he help grade papers as the dough chills in the fridge.

Aizawa hums along to the familiar tunes and smiles when the timer goes off, making the shorter jump up to take them out of the refrigerator. He laughs as the quirkless boy makes snide comments about 1-A and 1-B, and is extremely pleased to find the kid has the same dry humour that he does.

There’s a brief struggle when Izuku asks the man if he wants to help and for some god forsaken reason he can’t even begin to justify he says yes. He can’t figure out how to get the cookie dough out of the ice cream scoop for the life of him and the devil child finds it hilarious.

Izuku takes a sheet pan of chocolate chip cookies out of the oven and has to scold Aizawa for trying to sneak up on him and grab one before they’ve cooled. The green eyed boy smiles at his temporary guardian and laughs when the other comments on some of the essays, reading them aloud to make fun of some of the things they’ve written or clearly plagiarised.

He thinks this is the most he’s laughed since leaving the League of Villains two weeks ago.

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“Mommy, you should turn off your ringer.” The younger Izuku had suggested to his mother, innocently, trying to give advice because it kept going off and it was clearly annoying the librarian who had already told Inko to shush after she’d talked loudly on the phone to her friend.

The small greenette wished nobody would say anything. Even if he knew it was Inko that was in the wrong, that she was doing the wrong things. It wasn’t like he could stop her. Nothing good could come out of that.

Inko turned towards him and breathed in air through gritted teeth, an incredulous, annoyed, looking at him like he’s dumb or the source of all her problems expression on her face.

“I’m sorry that everything I do annoys you.” She says passive aggressively in that fake nice voice that he despises with all of his being. Like she’s talking to a customer in a store that’s being rude. Though Izuku doubts she would survive a week in customer service.

“That’s not what I meant! I just thought it would be easier because then you could put it on vibrate so it wouldn’t be so loud.” He says in a pleasant, light, voice, the voice he always has to use because he’s always pleasant. If he’s not then it’s his fault for setting her off, his fault he couldn’t calm her down. And even if he does everything right, talks nice, acts good, does well, it still ends up that way. He slips up somehow, sometimes he doesn’t know what he did wrong, but Hisashi always reminds him that it’s his fault. That he did something to make her blow up and she just needs to take her anger out on someone sometimes.

To Izuku it feels like it’s all the time. He wonders dimly in the back of his mind why he, a seven year old, is the one who gets everyone’s anger taken out on all the time, especially Inko’s, instead of him. An adult, his father. Someone who should protect him.

Though the boy doesn’t ponder that for very long. He’s learned not to question anything. That the stories they read in school about how you should love your parents and be thankful for them and that you should spend time with them and how you may think they’re wrong but someday you’ll realise they were right and you were the one at fault, were true. They were teaching it to them in school. Teachers are never wrong. That’s what everyone says.

So Izuku learned that his parents were always right and if you thought they were wrong or were doing wrong that you were wrong. They were doing the best thing for you, you were just a dumb child who knew nothing. He thinks he understands. Be thankful for your parents, is what those books taught him.

So he learned.

Aizawa tells him it’s wrong. He’s spent all this time getting these ‘facts’ forced into his head, he learned and adapted and spent time understanding and all of a sudden it’s wrong. He was wrong. He shouldn’t have believed it.

He shouldn’t have.

But still he remembers talking to adults about how he didn’t want to spend time with his mother and that he doesn’t think she’s right to do what she’s doing. They told him he was a rebellious teenager and someday he would be thankful.

Izuku’s been waiting for the day to come where he realises he’s thankful his mother yelled and screamed and grabbed at him and made him want to die.

It still hasn’t come.

Sometimes though, he does wonder if it helped him become the person he is today. The good parts of him at least. If he didn’t learn to survive, to adapt, would he have met Aizawa? Should he be thankful?

Izuku still can’t bring himself to forgive her. According to the adults though. There’s nothing to forgive. If anything, she should forgive him.

He thinks about that when she screams and yells at him and grabs him and makes him bleed and tells him she’ll kill him and that she’ll kill herself because of him and that she wants to die and that he hates her and it’s his fault and he apologises because it is his fault. It’s what everyone says. One day, you’ll realise she was doing the best thing for you, your mother. He apologises because it’s his fault and this must be the best thing to do. But she never forgives him. Never says it’s okay.

Bitterly, the boy thinks over what she’s done and wonders if it is the best thing she could’ve done for him. If she thought it was right. If this is what she wanted when she had a baby with Hisashi.

As a small child, Izuku wonders if it would be better, easier, less painful, to die. To get hit by a bus, to jump off a building, to stab himself in the head like she threatens to do everytime she yells at him in the kitchen. It seems those thoughts never disappear, even after ten years.

And it always struck him as weird when other kids were excited for their birthdays when he grew to hate his because it was always about her and she had managed to ruin both his and Hisashi’s every year since before he could remember. How they’d get excited for Christmas but if he guessed wrong and got her the wrong gift the day was ruined and if he didn’t like the food she made for dinner it was ruined or if she got a paper cut while doing anything at all it was ruined, if she decided to be angry and stressed out while making food or doing anything at all for anyone else, making it not about her, it was ruined.

He’s just a dumb kid, of course Mommy is always right. Adults always say their mother is their life, their mother is who they are today, like it’s a good thing. Is it supposed to be a good thing? Izuku hates that he doesn’t understand and that he’s always wrong.

Faces of his peers and childhood friends flash through his mind, his teacher when he told her about the fight mommy and daddy had the night before, Kacchan when he showed him the nail shaped scars all over his arms and legs, Aizawa when he told him what she’d done, Tomura, when he told them how she reacted. So not everyone was raised like this? There was a time when he thought it was normal to have knives thrown at you by your own mother. Realising it wasn’t, that other kids had parents who never yelled at them didn’t help him. Instead he felt more lost.

It became something forbidden. Never to be spoken of again.

He reads the mother’s day cards in the grocery store and sees how they say they'll always need her and she was right and they understand now. Izuku hopes one day he’ll understand.

He hopes one day he’ll need her.

He hopes one day he’ll realise she was right.

He hopes one day he’ll stop feeling sick at the thought of her touch, her voice, her eyes. Of her.

That day never comes.

Chapter 15

Chapter Text

“I don’t wannaaaaaa.” The child teacher whines, dragging his feet as they walk through the gates of UA.

“I know, this is the fifteenth time you've told me. Why do you think I can change it?” Aizawa grumbles, wishing he was cocooned in his sleeping bag rather than being here right now.

They walk to their respective classrooms with scowls painted on their faces. Izuku slumps down in his seat and bangs his head on the table. The rest of the class looks remotely terrified. Midnight smacks her whip against her desk and gains a scowl from the greenette in return.

Class is boring like usual and Izuku can’t help but wonder if it’s even worth it to come to school anymore. He already knows everything they’re teaching him despite being in business, the course he was least knowledgeable in.

Work packets are passed out and the quirkless boy just knows it’s a test in disguise. He sees it in the eyes of his classmates as they glance at him or look horrified at the content. And it’s not as if Nedzu is the most discreet being on the planet.

It’s a teaching license exam. He breezes through it with ease and can’t help but feel a pit of numbness in his gut as he hands it in. Is this what he wants? Is he just a pawn? Why does he let himself be limply thrown around like this? Is all he has going for him his brain?

The green eyed boy barely registers being escorted out of the classroom by Aizawa to the first year hero students. He does however, feel the worried look scanning over his face. It’s been a while since he was last like this.

Izuku has always wondered when he read stories as a child how someone could not physically smile. It always seemed a bit unrealistic to him. How could they run out of the ability to fake a smile when that’s the most natural ability for him?

It’s all a bit blurry, his childhood. He can remember that suffocating feeling of wanting freedom, wanting- needing to grow up as soon as possible. Longing with all of his heart to escape.

He’s been faking a smile for as long as he can remember and it’s so odd to him how people seem to lack the same ability to act pleasant or happy and cheerful when that was how he survived.

So Izuku does as he was taught, does as he learned, does as he knows and plasters on that fake smile that nobody’s ever really been able to detect as fake. It’s well practiced and perfected, all the signs of it being insincere long gone. The crinkle in the corner of his eyes as they round up into little slits, smiling in their own way, sparkling as if he’s truly happy, nearly closed to make him look as cheerful as possible. His mouth parted to only reveal his top rack of teeth so it looks more natural and less forced. Every muscle in his face moving in perfect time with his smile just as he was taught.

He smiles at the familiar faces of 1-A as Aizawa slides the door open and drawls on about how Izuku is going to become a more permanent fixture in their class. An assistant teacher, almost. The teenager keeps smiling, not letting the racing of his mind damper all the hard work he put into looking happy. They didnt’ even ask, didn’t consult him. Sure he knew, but does that make it okay? Does he want this? Did he ever want this? This is too hard, too stressful, he doesn’t understand. He understands too much.

He wishes he could just disappear.

The freckled genius lets his grin fade into a lazy looking smirk, trying to make his mind stay quiet for once. Aizawa sticks a band on his shoulder and Izuku opens up his mouth because it’s his turn to talk and even if he wasn’t listening at all his mind still processed all of it.

“Midterm Exams.” He starts. A collective groan sounds from the class.

“There will be a written exam in each class to test you on everything you have learned thus far, along with a practical exam which will test you in…. Other ways.” The quirkless boy continues, giving a blunt explanation to the students he’s going to be teaching for the rest of his first year.

“Excuse me! What does this have to do with the field trip Aizawa- sensei informed us about?!” A boy with black hair and glasses raises his hand and stands up, shouting at the curly haired male. Midoriya doesn’t even attempt to remember his name, answering the question based off of his judgment that the boy is extremely annoying.

“Oi.” He says in a cold looking out at the seated teenagers with a glare. A hush falls over the class, nerd looking boy sits down hesitantly, looking like he’s going to piss his pants.

“Vroom vroom boy stand back up.” Izuku hears a muffled snort from the back of the class, it comes from a blonde boy with a lightning bolt in his hair. Sue him, he hates learning people’s names if they don’t do anything to deserve it. The zappy kid earns a brownie point in his book for having a sense of humour, plus he’s sitting next to an empty seat.

Ah. That’s where the student that was expelled the first day sat. Grape boy. The pervert. Good riddance. He smiles softly. That’s where Shinsou’s sitting now. Izuku thinks it’s a drastic improvement.

Right, back to chop chop man. The rude quirked boy is standing rigidly, bowing, despite not really being sorry.

“Now, can anyone tell me why we raise our hands in class when we want to ask questions?” Izuku asks in a sweet voice, one a preschool teacher would use when talking to toddlers. They sit in silence not knowing if they’re supposed to answer. He raises his eyebrows and continues to smile.

“I’m waiting.” Ironically enough a student raises their hand tentatively. Yaoyorozu. She’s wonderful. Smart, kind, great quirk control, worth remembering for sure.

“Yes, Yaoyorozu?” He calls on the brave tribute.

“So the teacher can call on us and we don’t interrupt them?” The black haired girl says nervously. He flashes her a thumbs up and tosses her a piece of chocolate that he materialised from his pocket. Might as well fuel the rumours of his quirk being the ability to produce chocolate from dark spaces. She gapes at him in surprise before eating with a satisfied smile on her face.

“Now, can anyone else tell me what Mr. Walmart Cyborg did wrong?” He waves a piece of chocolate tantalizingly in front of their faces.

Quickly, eleven hands are in the air, motivated by chocolate. He doesn’t call on any of them, simply observing the other eight students who haven’t moved a muscle. Izuku wonders if any of them dislike chocolate but goes through other reasons they may have not raised their hands.

Yaoyorozu - she already answered a question and feels slightly guilty for betraying the vice president of the class already.

Bakugou - because he hates Izuku with a passion despite not really having a reason to other than his superiority and inferiority complexes. He’s also incapacitated by another currently and even if he wasn’t wouldn’t be trying to answer the question, but rather attacking his new teacher.

Kirishima - who actually has moved if only to hold down the explosive blonde and cover his mouth in an attempt to restrain the boom boom boy, which is enough to make Izuku remember his name out of gratitude.

Tokoyami - there’s still a bit of tension between the two of them because neither of them got closure and are in a weird limbo where they’re acquaintances but not friends.

Stick up his ass motor boy - the trust fund baby is standing up straight like a soldier, sweating slightly. He looks thoroughly embarrassed but Izuku really doesn’t feel all that bad for him. Even if he did raise his hand he would never be called on and he should know that this question was not directed at him in the slightest.

Shinsou - he’s sleeping and Izuku knows how much it sucks to not be able to sleep at night

Todoroki - he probably doesn’t think this is worth his time and may still be struggling facing Izuku after the discussion about him having ADHD. Perhaps he is not a fan of chocolate too?

Uraraka - she looks a bit annoyed actually and seems to be sending sympathetic glances at the subject of attention when she thinks nobody is looking. Maybe she’s his friend? Is it a crush? He sure hopes not or else Hatsume is gonna be pissed.

“Killua wannabe tell me what four eyes did wrong.” Izuku finally stops scrutinising the wannabe heroes and calls on the guy with a sense of humour.

“Is he talking about me? Who the heck is Killua?” The blonde electric quirked boy mutters to himself in a confused voice, not really knowing if he’s being made fun of or not.

“Yes you, inverted Nishinoya. Can you answer my question? You raised your hand, correct?” The petite genius crosses his arms and gives the student a pointed look.

“Uhhhh. He didn’t wait to be called on and just interrupted? Which kinda makes raising his hand pointless.” A piece of chocolate flies towards his forehead with the speed of a bullet. To the quirkless boy’s surprise, he catches it at the last millisecond.

“Damn. That was a close one. What was that for dude?!?” Izuku looks him up and down approvingly, slightly impressed. Good reflexes, almost as good as his. Maybe a side effect of his quirk, but still. A good quality to have.

“What’s your name?” The 5’3 student/teacher calls out, a notebook in his hand all of a sudden. None of them know where it came from. None of them ask.

Silence blankets the room. Is this guy serious? He really doesn’t know any of their names?

“Well?” Izuku prompts after a few minutes pass. He huffs out a frustrated breath of air when he doesn’t get an answer. Well there goes all of that potential. Can’t even answer when called on.

“Ka-” The teenager starts, he holds up a hand and gives him a disappointed glare.

“Took you far too long to answer, and for what? Sit back down Pikachu.” Aizawa snorts at the name and ruffles his hair.

“You all already know Midoriya. He’s going to be something akin to a teacher for the rest of this year at least.” The underground hero announces. They all wilt slightly, except for Yaoyorozu who perks up and Bakugou who turns bright red.

“Midoriya, I forgot to take attendance this morning, would you..?” Aizawa asks, handing him a class roster with their names on it, clearly suggesting he learns how to address his new students. Izuku pushes it away and gets out a blank piece of paper, numbering it by desk numbers and leaving blank spaces where names should be.

“Okay, listen up! I’m going to call out your desk numbers 1- 19 and you’re going to say your name, quirk, height, and a random fact about yourself. Then you will listen to what I call you, and a short analysis based on my current impression of you based off of our past classes together along with this one. Think of this as an official introduction.” He grins evilly, everyone collectively shudders. He’s called them all by their names before so he should know them but something tells them that this is really not the case.

“Also, call me Midoriya. None of that -sensei sh*t. If you impress me you can call me Izuku. Ah! I forgot, please also tell me your favourite candy when you introduce yourself, I don’t want you to get bored of chocolate.” The new demon teacher smiles innocently but they all feel a headache blooming as he starts writing on the paper with a pencil.

“ Number one?”

“Mashirao Ojirou, Tail, 5’6, I know basic judo, I like mentos.”

“Okay, Ojirou, you are very average, I’m in the business course I think, so I’m just gonna tell you you need to either own that and be a simple and sweet hero that gets the job done without much fuss and has a kind personality that makes him likeable typically to the older women or you’re gonna have to spice it up a bit but I think that you could also be a great underground hero. Learning judo is an incredibly useful skill that is wise for you to have given you have a physical mutant quirk which will help you create a fighting style that you can learn to incorporate your tail into. I suggest since you will undoubtedly be a close range fighter that you enroll in or learn from the internet other types of fighting styles like karate, boxing, muay thai, taekwondo, kung fu, and study up on how to fight dirty and other technicalities so you can have a diverse fighting style. I can teach you some if you would like because I have a lot of experience with hand to hand combat however there will be things you must learn on your own as I have my own tricks that I would prefer to keep to myself. Another thing to keep in mind is that you need to have ways to defend yourself from long distance attacks or quirks that could damage you or your tail. I have to wrap this up pretty quickly but go down to support and get Hatsume Mei to make you tail armour or something like that so you can use your tail to cause even more damage. I respect you for picking up judo, but you should’ve done it earlier Shukaku.” The quirkless teen gives him a brief analysis and a lot of suggestions, it takes no longer than ten seconds and he can see how slightly awed and terrified the boy is.

“Problem child, please give them three sentences or less of analysis. You can do in depth later, All Might is coming to help you teach heroics in half an hour.” Aizawa notifies from his sleeping bag.

“But that wasn’t even that in depth!” He whines in protest, gaining a stink eye from the long haired man in return. The greenette mumbles out a reluctant ‘fine.’ before moving on.

“Desk two?”

“sh*tty nerd I’m gonna kill you! DIE!” Bakugou lunges out from his seat, Kirishima no longer being able to restrain him. The redhead shoots him an apologetic look.

“Ahhh, sparky sparky boom boom. Please raise your hand next time.” Izuku easily dodges the big right hook and flips him to the ground, twisting the boy’s arm so that if he moves again it will break.

“I actually already know everything about you so there’s no need for you to speak out again.” Everyone watches with wide eyes as he simply adjusts his grip so he can sit on top of the exploding boy while keeping him subdued.

“Three?”

~Koji Kouda, Anivoice, 6’1, I hate bugs, Pocky.~ The shy student signs, looking slightly uncomfortable.

“Based off of the fact you’re using JSL when you have a speech quirk, I think we may need to work on making the environment you are in a bit more comfortable for you so you are able to speak with us when you are able to. I haven’t seen your quirk in action however you’ll likely need to work on that bug fear, many people are squeamish and having the ability to control them is a great advantage. I recommend working on your range as well, so you can call animals from all over. Mr. Shoji Aburame but tall and not a ninja.” Izuku says, signing as he speaks. Snow White boy doesn’t seem to have done much to help himself if he’s still scared of bugs, the selectively mute thing isn’t really much of an issue but it will affect his popularity and Izuku isn’t very impressed. He doesn’t really have anything that could become a trademark and hasn’t shown any respectable qualities. Hence, the nickname.

“Until you have impressed me or earned my respect and continue to work to help yourself grow, you will be addressed by a nickname, since your name is not worth learning and does not stick in my mind.” Izuku addresses the whole class. “This is nothing personal, I’m not singling you out Apis (yk the little girl from one piece) this goes for everyone. You haven’t technically done anything wrong, you just need to catch my eye, and you haven’t yet. It’s not necessarily an easy feat.” The quirkless genius finishes, staring each and every one of them down. He’s wasting time.

“Four.”

“Hagakure, Invisibility, 5’0, I have curly hair, salt water taffy.”

“I heard about the way you actually got into this course, you’re clever for outwitting Nedzu. However, you need to work on your physical strength. All you have going for you is stealth but what if someone sprays you with spray paint or covers the ground with bubble wrap? If you asked for help you would have also been able to use your DNA to get an invisible costume instead of going around naked which is extremely ineffective. Also, change your hero name, it’s too generic, if you want to be popular get yourself a trademark. You’d do well as an underground hero too. If you wanna be acknowledged by people stop being loud and jumping around, use your brain. You are smarter than you think Casper the friendly ghost.”

“I’m going to need to hurry it up, so instead of analysing all of you right now, I’ll give you a nickname ---most likely and a suggestion on how to use your quirk more effectively. You’ll get an in depth analysis by the end of the week. Don’t worry.” Everyone nods in understanding.

“Five.”

“Mezo Shouji, Dupli-Arms, 6’1, I love to knit, Snickers.”

“Kamaji the boiler man, you need to learn how to fight outside of boxing and have weapons commissioned so you can wield multiple at a time, also learn how to use one. Maybe get lessons with Snipe on how to use a gun.

And in less than twenty minutes Izuku has called attendance, gifting more than half of the class a ridiculous ever changing nicknames and a few suggestions on how to utilize their quirk.

All Might himself slams open the sliding door, his wide smile becoming a bit more forced as he sees the barely 5’3 greenette in the room. Luckily he doesn’t announce his arrival this time and quickly obeys Midoriya as he commands him to go set up Ground Beta for today’s lesson.

“Go change into your gym outfits and grab a paint gun. We’re doing stealth training.” Aizawa grins at the students. They all feel a shiver go down their spine as they walk to the locker rooms.

The long haired man talks to the child as they walk to the training field. One still wearing his school uniform, the other in his black, hero uniform, ready to knock the sense into their students.

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“Okay, the objective of round one is to try and find us. You won’t be needing your paint gun for this round, so put it next to the benches. You’ll be split into three groups of six, each having your own speciality. Now there are nineteen of you so one person is going to be joining Me and Midoriya in trying not to be found.” Eraser Head instructs. Shinsou steps forward, knowing it will be good practice for being an underground hero. Midoriya feels a spark of pride in his chest at seeing his friend so willing to work his best.

“If your group finds either me, Shinsou, or Aizawa, you will escort us back to your base. Each team will get to use one of these buildings as their base. This will be more important in the next few rounds. Once one group has found one of us no other group is able to claim us as found and must search for another hider. The three hiders will stay stationary and will go to a base without struggling. Now, All Might will count to one hundred and when he finishes you may start searching in your groups. No splitting up, if you are alone when you find one of us you will be disqualified and the found hider will relocate.” Izuku explains, he pulls out the paper he took attendance with and starts announcing the teams.

“If you hear your name walk into the building painted yellow, that is your base. You will be called Team T. You will be a tracking team. Jirou, Koro-Sensei, Harry Potter, Zenitsu, Uraraka, and Cinderella.” The little genius calls out their names letting Jirou, Shouji, Hagakure, Kaminari, Uraraka, and Kouda walk into their new base.

“Isn’t it unfair that they’re a tracking specialised team in this exercise?” Ashido points out.

“Midoriya and Aizawa-sensei probably have a plan for it, why are you questioning them? Do you think you’re smarter?” Shinsou sneers at the girl. Aizawa gives him a warning look and Izuku looks unbothered by the outburst.

“Moving on. If I call your name head to the red building which will be your base. You will be Team A. The attack team. Angry Dandelion, Vanellope Von Schweetz, Hobbes, Astro Boy, Yaoyorozu, and Shaiapouf!” Bakugou, Satou, Ojirou, Aoyama, Yaoyorozu, and Ashido trudge towards the red building.

“Last but not least, the capture team! You will be Team C. When I call your name head to your base, the blue building. Sonic The Hedgehog, Kirishima, Tokoyami, Lint Roller, Tanjiro, and Asui!” The remaining students jog to their base and Izuu doesn’t miss the little croak of ‘call me Tsu!’ from the frog girl.

“All Might, please start counting to one hundred for us.” Aizawa walks up to the taller man who looks like he’d rather be anywhere else than here. The three insomniacs shoot off into the city.

Izuku eyes the pro hero, they’re not going to go all out just yet. They need to make this easy enough that they’re on a similar level to Shinsou. If they hid to the best of their ability, it would take nobody less than Nedzu to locate them.

Shinsou, who doesn’t know parkour like Aizawa and Izuku, runs on foot, he frantically searches for a hiding spot. Eventually he decides to hide in a building, on the fourteenth floor, a bit more than halfway up. There’s a plush chair in one of the offices that he manages to disassemble and then stuff himself into before putting all the cushions back into place.

The underground hero hops from rooftop to rooftop, going the opposite direction of the freckled boy. He sees at least thirty places to hide but rules them out because they’re too hard to find for the level that his class is at. After a few seconds of looking around he locates a road full of fake traffic and weedles himself under the backseat of a Toyota.

Everyone’s favourite quirkless fifteen year old hides in a tree. It’s made of plastic as this is simply a replica of a city and therefore is hollow. He cuts a hole along the seam of the trunk, making sure it’s concealed by the fake leaves and squeezes through, putting the piece of plastic back where it was originally.

Team T, who has the advantage this round manages to find Shinsou first after about twenty minutes. Team C takes a bit longer, finding Midoriya about ten minutes later. Team A finally finds Aizawa after Bakugou tries to blow up all of the cars to make the search faster and gets his quirk erased about two minutes later.

Round two commences and the groups have to capture one of the teachers or Shinsou as they hide and run around the training ground. Round three ends twenty five minutes before the school bell rings after they had to try and hit each of the three with a paintball as they hid and ran and retaliated.

Izuku claps his hands, not looking out of breath in the slightest. Shinsou is kneeling on the ground about to pass out and Aizawa wants nothing more than to be in his sleeping bag right now. The rest of the class is panting and sweating through their gym clothes covered in yellow, red and blue paint.

“This is the final round. You're all going to work together to find both me and Aizawa within the next twenty minutes. You may work separately as well but we recommend working in a team to put all your strengths together. The two of us will be trying now. You may use any and all methods you can think of to try and find us. We will at the same time be shooting at you with paint guns without you noticing. If you have less than five black paint parks on your uniform you will get a week long extension on the ten page essay assigned to you on monday that is due tomorrow. All Might count to ten.” Izuku fades away, and watches from a tall building’s wifi box as they scurry into the city. As predicted, Todoroki has gone off on his own and Bakugou is trying to do the same if not for Kirishima. However the rest of them are working together.

A bitter smile spreads on Izuku’s face They’re getting better, stronger, smarter. They’ll grow to be world renowned heroes. Skilled, and talented and good at their jobs. Heroes who save people and defeat the ‘villains’.

He chuckles to himself as he jumps from roof to roof, a shadow in the bright training ground.

It will be a cold day in Hell when anybody manages to find him when he doesn’t want them to.

The bell finally rings and the class groans in relief, sore and tired and totally done. THeir teachers are already back in the classroom and they can’t even fathom how they got there in such a short amount of time.

The black haired man pats the shorter’s head affectionately. They’re currently watching 1-A’s walk of shame back to the locker rooms. Covered in paint from head to toe. Not a single one of them managed to get shot less than ten times. It wasn’t until the very end either, that they managed to find Aizawa but even then there was no proof because they never saw him and only knew where he was.

“You’re good at this stuff, kid.” He comments.

“Nah. I was just winging it. Pretty much just made them play glorified hide and seek and paintball.”

“Hm.”

Silence washes over the two and it’s a bit awkward but that’s okay. Izuku lets his head fall onto the other’s shoulder, leaning on him ever so slightly. It’s warm. Not cold like Inko. It’s warm and safe and he’s not happy but he’s not sad or angry like he used to be.

Is it better to be numb though?

Is it better to feel nothing rather than something?

He looks out the window, watches the traffic in the road, the civilians walking home from work, the heroes patrolling the area. And there’s a flash of blue that catches his eye.

Pale with red eyes. A black hoodie on, staring at him. Pinky fingers bound messily with washi tape

A ‘villain’.

Izuku sits inside a hero school, teaching hero students, working among a hero staff, leaning on a pro hero’s shoulder, living with a pro hero, friends with aspiring young heroes, Izuku remembers that he is no hero.

And doesn’t say a word.

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Izuku misses the league. He misses the smiles and the laughter and how free he was and no matter what he said it was okay because morals don’t matter when society has cast you out and put a target on your back sneering the word villain wherever you go.

He misses it and sure he smiles here, feels safe in Aizawa’s home, sleeps for more than two hours a night when he’s near the man, laughs with his friends, feels a challenge in a conversation in a game with Nedzu.

But he has never thought of himself as free here.

So the boy retreats to the place that feels like a breath of fresh air because here he laughs and it’s real, here he smiles and feels challenged because everything she does is new and not boring or redundant and here he feels the closest to free he’s ever been without the ‘villains’.

Because her morals are grey and uncertain because she’d do anything to be free herself, to show what she has to offer and to try new things and that has to be enough for Izuku.

Hatsume Mei opens the door to her station, it’s separate from the rest of the class because she blows things up and has too much freedom in her mind to fit it all on a tiny desk shared with ten other people.

Mei is free. Mei cares. So she sees the boy in front of her door, and she's covered in soot and car grease, ready to yell at whoever interrupted her work and drops the wrench she’s holding, stops everything she’s doing because she knows something’s wrong.

Izuku’s never felt this cared for and it’s making him suspicious because why would someone do this for him and it’s a new experience but it’s something he’s craved for so long, why didn’t he ever have it before?

The support student takes one look at him and drags him into the room, clearing a space on the floor for him to sit. He doesn’t really know how she knew but he’ll take what he can get. It’s been a long time since anyone’s known his expressions are fake.

He’s not crying, not frowning, not smiling, not angry, not excited, nothing. And she can see that somehow. Mei lets him sit next to her and they don’t talk. Izuku’s numb and he doesn’t have anything to feel but at the same time he’s scared and he’s sad and he doesn’t know how to fix it because it’s been there so long that it’s beginning to rot. The walls he built up are getting peeled apart, making little holes for people to creep into so much that he began to care about them but it’s making everything worse and intrusive thoughts begin to bleed into his brain.

Mei asks him if he wants to talk about it but doesn’t really say much else because she doesn’t know how to comfort people and now it’s dawning on her how much she wishes she did.

Sometimes its not enough to describe what you’re feeling by saying or thinking ‘i'm sad’ but that’s all you can do in the moment and it’s okay. If they’re the right person they’ll understand.

At least he manages that, he admits it. It’s all he can say but she shushes him and says she knows, and that it’ll be alright. Izuku doesn’t cry and that’s okay.

He lets himself feel sad.

It’s enough.

And like everytime he’s with Mei, she manages to clear the tension, bringing up some silly, unrelated, casual topic. She rants about her babies and how much she’s improving them and tells him about anything and everything. Izuku doesn’t add anything to the conversation but he listens and it’s calming and nice to just listen and not have to speak and make mistakes.

Eventually though, they’re working on a baby together, scheming and joking, laughing and smiling and talking. And it’s enough.

“What if you made a little suit that was like clear and skintight and stuff that was like, air conditioned? Cause, you can just wear a bunch of jackets in the winter but in the summer you can only take so much off.” Izuku proposes.

“But how would the cold circulate if it was airtight?” Mei questions, looking away as her newest baby blows up in a flash of light.

“No, it would be the plastic that was being cooled and the cold plastic just sits on your skin. Like a condom but over your whole body and air conditioned.” The greenette explains. Mei seems to ponder over it for a second before nodding in acceptance.

“That could work.” She comments, looking thoughtful. “You’d need a really high quality plastic that wouldn’t rip or be too tight or heavy or uncomfortable though.”

“Honestly Mei Mei, you should just make a gun. Like, you could literally kill ninety percent of heroes right now with a gun, like, what are they gonna do about it? Set the bullet on fire?” He whines incredulously

The golden eyed girl bursts out into laughter as she puts her pink hair up into a ponytail.

“Oh my god, you’re right. Snipe’s really the smart one here let’s be honest. Maybe I should make some bulletproof gear. IZUKU YOU’RE A GENIUS I’M GOING TO MAKE SO MUCH MONEY!” She scribbles down design ideas at a rapid speed and the boy grins, chuckling slightly, demanding a percentage of the profit since he made the idea.

It has to be enough.

At least it’s real.

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“Midoriya, I got a call from Child Protective Services an-” Aizawa has his hair tied back messily, his shirt is covered in stains and he looks more tired than Izuku’s ever seen him. But he can’t seem to hear the rest of that sentence. His ears start to ring, cutting off the pro hero. No. It can’t be happening. It’s a lie. It’s not true.

“....’m sorry…...d everythi…...ould…...n’t wan…..ither…...ku?.....Iz….hea….e?” It’s a jumble of syllables but he’s smart enough to be able to put the puzzle together.

It’s dark outside but that’s not really a problem to Izuku as he turns around and bolts out the door. He can hear, he can feel Aizawa chasing him, and remembers when he was first followed.

That should’ve been the first red flag. He inwardly scolds himself.

He’s not really sure where he’s going but he’s running as fast as he can, turning because it feels right, his eyes closed so maybe if he crosses a road he can get hit by a bus.

At first the quirkless boy ends up at the doorstep of the League of Villains hideout and he almost walks in. But it feels like if he walks in it’ll be the last time he considers himself friends with the heroes and honestly Izuku’s not so sure he wants to make that decision yet.

So again he’s running and running and running and he can’t stop, hopefully he’ll run off a cliff. He doesn’t want to go back. He won’t go back. He’ll disappear.

They’ll never find him.

It all shatters into tiny pieces when a hug stops him. There’s a child hugging his legs. He looks familiar. His face is blurry, but Izuku’s seen it before. Known it before. He’s seen this boy in dreams.

He shakes his head and looks down at his leg. There’s nobody there. Dimly the greenette realises he’s in the park where he tells the children stories.

But it’s evening and the children won’t be there after dark. There’s a tug on his shirt. Once again.

Nobody is there.

The bench looks inviting and he’s so so tired but he knows they’ll find him here so he can’t stay.

“Mister?” Izuku almost doesn’t look, he doesn’t want to turn and see nobody there but he does anyway and this time there’s a group of ten children sitting on the grass. Waiting.

Nobody says anything for a long time. More children walk up into the park as if they’ve been waiting, as if it’s the only thing they’re alive for and they sit on the grass, watching him.

Midoriya Izuku wants to run away wants to hate the children and tell them to leave but he can’t. He hates adults, he’s scared of adults. He’ll never trust an adult ever again.

These are children.

He cannot run away from a child.

So he sits down on the bench and looks in their eyes, they’re sparkling and clear and happy to see him. But they’re not pure or naive. And he knows not to treat them as such.

Izuku racks his mind for a story and he almost tells them his own but something tells him it’s too early and there’s more to come before his story is finished and ready to tell so he talks about a ghost.

Hanako-kun. The boy who murdered his younger brother and now haunts the toilets of a school. Number seven of the seven mysteries.

It’s not a long story because he doesn’t know the whole thing, can’t quite remember everything that happens or how it finishes but it’s a story nonetheless and the children hang on to his every word.

A bedtime story. He’s always come here in the day and it’s just occurred to him this is their first bedtime story.

The boy gets up to leave, not really knowing where to go but not wanting to stay here and turns around to see what’s been sitting out of sight listening to him.

In front of him there are only about twenty children, listening with tired, admiring eyes. Behind him there are hundreds. Children he’s been reading to for years. Some that are no longer children.

It’s almost appalling how little he has done for them to get this much thanks in return and how much this matters to them.

A man calls his name. It’s so familiar and deep and it reminds him of what it was like to be safe but Izuku has long since stopped believing in fantasies.

“Run.” They tell him. He promises he’ll tell them another story. He tells them to be safe and to wait for him.

It feels like goodbye.

Midoriya Izuku runs down the alleyways and hops from rooftop to rooftop, running away from the last adult he ever trusted.

And falls.

Aizawa screams his name and runs as fast as he can to the ground where the ten story flight drop should’ve killed the boy but he’s not there.

He’s back up on the buildings, running as fast as he can. But as smart and as fast and as talented as he may be, Aizawa is a pro hero.

The long haired man grabs the back of the younger’s sweater begging him to let him talk. Izuku slips out of the knit wool and feels the chill air rising goosebumps on his skin, wind whipping his hair in a wild mess and making his eyes sting.

A capture weapon wraps around his ankle and it’s all Izuku can do is brace himself for the unforgiving pavement that grows closer and closer to his face with every second.

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Izuku’s lucid enough to know he’s sleeping. He can feel himself drifting away into his dreams that always seem to overlap. Vivid and real. Yet he’s never remembered one long enough to write it down.

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The sun glares down on his skin, but he’s still cold. The city has never looked so grey. It’s a familiar spot. He knows where he is but it’s like an itch he can’t scratch because it’s almost as if it’s been erased from his mind.

The kid is sitting there. In the same spot.

It’s almost as if the younger doesn’t even know he’s there. The back of the child’s head the only thing he can identify, and even that’s a bit blurry. He watches in horror as they lean forward to look at the ground and though his mouth opens no sound comes out and Izuku’s never wanted to scream more than he does now.

A blank face doesn’t acknowledge him, blurred in the way a memory long forgotten does, it gazes longingly at the pavement below. His stomach lurches as he tries to get closer and figure out who this might be. Izuku can feel himself fading away and he knows he doesn’t belong here.

Blood drips from the heel of the forgotten boy’s shoe. Izuku can’t see where it’s coming from. The vacant face faces him and the quirkless student recognises the sensation of being evicted from the dream and waking up as he struggles to reach out towards the smaller child. A youthful voice rings out from the child and it’s painfully familiar but he’s being pulled away as it echoes all around him like a fever dream, his head beginning to ache.

“Are you going to stop me?”

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He wakes with a start. There’s a familiar ceiling above him. The room smells strongly of different types of tea from around the world and maybe once upon a time he considered this room his favourite place.

“Ah, Midoriya, how nice of you to join us back in the land of the living.” Nedzu remarks, taking a long sip from his porcelain teacup. Izuku immediately sits up, his vision goes blurry and dark for a second and in that moment he feels a comforting hand on his back, he reflexively slaps it away.

Inko Midoriya yelps and jumps away holding her hand as if burned violently instead of getting a simple smack that wouldn’t even leave a mark. He feels a rage burning inside of him at her face, so fake as it looks on him innocently and hurt as if she’s never done anything wrong to him.

A woman with short black hair and freckled skin clears her throat. She narrows her eyes at him as he turns around to face her with increasingly frantic eyes. Acting on pure instinct, Izuku scans the room and counts every person in it, surveying the atmosphere and if it’s safe or not.

Nine people are in the room. Two are hiding. Four are outside of the door, guarding and eavesdropping simultaneously. Out of the nine present in the enclosed space, eight are adults. Nedzu doesn’t really count. Four of them he used to trust.

That feeling of fear he knows so well curls up tight in his gut as he sees himself surrounded by adults. Aizawa knows and yet…

“Izuku! We missed you. I’m sorry you were feeling so bad, you should’ve told us!” Inko cries out, tears dripping out of her wide green eyes as she blubbers at him, crowding around him. He takes one look at her sweaty, oily, snot covered, wrinkled face and feels disgust writhing up inside of him.

It’s fake and he knows it. She drags him into a hug and he realises he’s crying. His body is stiff and she’s so cold and her grip is suffocating. Her fingernails dig into his arms, undoubtedly leaving marks. A warning. A threat.

“Aw, bunny don’t cry. It’s okay. Look Hisashi, he missed us so much! Our baby is all grown up. Shhh. It’s okay. I’m here.” The woman coos at him and Izuku lurches, he needs to throw up.

She’s here. It’s not okay.

Izuku shuts down.

It’s painfully obvious to all the heroes in the room that the boy is not happy to see his parents as his face goes slack and expressionless. The blank void it was before he began to open up to them. The emerald eyes Aizawa once described as bright go dull and dark.

The plump, deceivingly kind looking woman chatters away amiably with the heroes, thanking them for keeping her son safe and apologizing for the ‘misunderstanding’.

The erasure hero sets his intense gaze on the youngest being in the room. And they both know the freckled boy can feel it but never once does he indicate that the long haired man is present.

“Hisashi, go get the car. It’s getting late and I bet little Zuzu is tired!” She squeals, rubbing her cheek on Izuku’s and tightening her hold on him. Nedzu almost winces when he sees the flat, dead expression on the curly haired boy’s face and the way his eyes bore into every adult in the room.

Fear blossoms in Izuku’s gut at the thought of being in a car with Inko without a way to escape. He doesn’t let it show. He can’t trust anyone here.

“Say thank you to the nice heroes Izuku!” Inko says in a high pitched voice as if speaking to a baby or a dog.

“Thank you.” His mouth moves reflexively. He feels like a stranger in his own body. Her hand sits in the small of his back and the quirkless boy walks out the door and to the car stiffly.

Not less than five minutes later he’s getting howled at by his parent. Spittle spatters onto his face as she yells at him, her voice deep and hoarse and scarier than anybody else in the world.

“WE ARE NOT ABUSING YOU. OH, I’M SORRY, DID I HURT YOUR WITTLE FEELINGS? WHAT IF YOUR FATHER GETS FIRED FROM HIS JOB?? WHAT WILL YOU DO THEN?? ANSWER ME!” The boy’s mother roars at him. He wants to flinch. And his eyes water and his nose starts to run but he suppresses it because he knows that it will only make her angrier and just stares ahead, eyes unfocused and dark. Izuku doesn’t know if he’s supposed to answer her or not because if he’s wrong no matter what he does it will not work in his favour so he just keeps his mouth clamped shut.

The car door handle is looking awfully tempting right now. It’s unlocked too. But running away didn’t work last time so what’s the point? Maybe it was because someone helped him. Maybe he went and trusted the wrong people. Maybe he needs to do it alone.

His cheeks feel cold and tacky and his pants have little wet spots on them. Oh. He’s crying.

The woman with a weak quirk that lets her pull small objects towards her is just yelling louder now. She’s crying too. Talking about how he betrayed her and how it was all an accident and she would never do that and he’s a big fat liar. Oh. Now she’s talking about killing herself. It’s nice to see that nothing has changed since he left.

This time though, Izuku doesn’t rise to the bait. Doesn’t beg her not to and cry pathetically as he tells her he loves her and doesn’t want her to die. He doesn’t feel ice cold at the idea of her death being his fault.

And maybe if he were a bit braver, brash, desperate, or angry, he would’ve told her he wouldn’t mind if she died. A sneaky voice whispers that he’d be a murderer and he wouldn’t feel guilty or sad. He’d be alive. Izuku tries not to listen to it.

So he lets her shriek and yowl in his face as she goes red and hoarse and pathetically fake tears run down her cheeks. He lets her rub her snot on his shirt and part of his arm and he wants to scream because he hates it and doesn't want her to touch him and it’s disgusting that she did this, is doing it. Her very being is disgusting.

Hisashi doesn’t say a word.

“I TRIED TO BE LENIENT- I TRIED TO BE A GOOD MOTHER AND I'M TRYING IZUKU I'M TRYING. AM I NOT GOOD ENOUGH FOR YOU? IS MY BEST NOT GOOD ENOUGH FOR YOU? I GUESS I'M JUST A sh*tTY MOTHER. YOU HATE ME DON’T YOU? THIS IS ALL YOUR FAULT!” Midoriya Inko drags out the last sentence and gets closer to his face, her breath hot on his skin and her expression scrunched up as tight as it can go.

He tries to wipe off his face, sticky and damp with various liquids. She grabs his wrist and snaps at him to not touch his face. Her nails dig into his wrist, various crescent shaped scars litter his arms faintly from when she pierced through his skin. And no matter how many times she excuses it as her just having a hangnail so it was sharp and accidentally cut him, she shouldn’t have been grabbing him in the first way. She shouldn't have touched him with bad intentions.

“When we get back home, you will not leave your room and you will not be getting dinner.” Hisashi says in a low voice to him. Inko is turned back around, facing forward again, sweating and huffing from the intensity of their ‘talk’.

“Yes.” Izuku says because he has a sense of self preservation and it’s easier to be a weak willed little boy than deal with Inko and risk getting hurt because she’s scary. Izuku is scared of her and there’s so much fear in him right now it’s overriding everything else because she’s the most terrifying thing he’s ever had to endure.

“Yes what.” The woman grits out with a clenched jaw, stubbornly not looking at him.

But this f*cking question that’s more of a demand makes his rage bubble up higher than his fear because no matter what anyone he is not a baby, he is not their child and Inko and Hisashi have never been his ‘Mommy and Daddy’. And the feeling of those words rolling off his tongue make him feel sicker than when he tries to talk about her to others.

Izuku is smart and everyone who’s ever met him knows this but there’s always that wall that hides his personality and everything that makes him who he is when he’s with two specific people because if he doesn’t show them anything about himself or what he’s made of they can’t hurt him.

But clearly that hasn’t been working so he pulls it apart, brick by brick.

“Answer your mother Izuku. Yes what?” Hisashi tries. The greenette stays quiet and impossibly still. A vein looks just about ready to pop out of Inko’s forehead.

“You will listen when we are talking to you Izuku.” The fire breathing man says again. His wife has her arms crossed and flexes her fingers threateningly.

“Don’t make us call the heroes, bunny.” A feminine voice pipes up sickly sweet.

“Don’t call me bunny.” The words are just as surprising to the boy as they are to his parents.

“What the f*ck did you just say to me?” Inko starts to turn around again. Her hand shoots out, ready to grab him but Izuku is done being a pushover. Izuku just wants to survive and that’s all he’s been trying to do for so so so long but that small spark of love and hope he always had for his parents is long fizzled out.

For a moment, everything seems to be moving in slow motion. To the left of him is another car and the road, directly to his right is a strip of grass and flowers covered with litter but still soft and empty enough to break his fall even at this speed.

Hisashi isn’t really watching the road very well and is going far too fast to be legal. If Izuku stays in this car he will most likely die and no matter how appealing that sounds right now, he’s been trying for so long to survive and there’s no way in hell he’s going to be buried at the same time as his parents.

Inko’s hand is going straight for his throat and it’s honestly a first for him because she’s always just grabbed his arms and legs and dragged him around or hurt him, like a cuff and chain on a jailed criminal. Her face is disgusting to look at but it’s angry and she looks like she’s snapped not for the first time in his life. It’s an expression he’s acquainted with and has some experience with.

In thirty nine minutes it will start to thunderstorm. The tree at the entrance to his neighborhood will fall over and kill at least two people within the next hour. Homes will flood but after two hours and ten minutes it will trickle to a stop. Half of the residents living in Musutafu will lose power before the sun rises.

There’s a blue ballpoint pen in the cupholder. Said cupholder is less than a foot away from him. Based on the position of his ‘mother’s’ hands and body, combined with his ‘father’s’ responsibility to keep his hands on the steering wheel there is about a ninety percent chance with his speed he is able to grab the pen without getting grabbed, slapped, cut, hit, or anything else of the sort.

The quirkless boy weighs his options. On the off chance he gets caught and brought to court for what he’s about to do, he can claim it was in self defense which is not a lie. They will suspect him of lying or ask for evidence. He has scars that could’ve only come from his mother littering his limbs. If he doesn’t do it. She’ll choke him and probably not kill him because she’s weak and nothing more than a f*cking menace to him. But he will not permit for there to be even a chance of dying at the hands of his mother. How will he see her rot in jail if he’s dead?

The pen feels cool and study and fits perfectly in his hand. He presses the button and the metal tip emerges from the cheap plastic shell. A sweaty, sharp, dry, cold hand with long, dangerous nails that hurt when she tries approaches his throat menacingly.

He unbuckles his seatbelt, stabs the pen cleanly through the palm of her hand and pulls, dragging it through her flesh and between her pudgy fingers, ripping the webbed skin and coating the car in blood. In the moment of shock she has he sighs and looks at his blood spattered shirt. She’d always been so unnecessarily messy. He always ended up having to clean up the mess.

Keen eyes catch the twitch of movement from the driver’s seat. Hisashi is fumbling for the lock button. Izuku throws the bloody pen at his ‘father’ who pauses in his movements as the bloody (there’s a few pieces of skin too but who cares about technicalities) writing utensil lands on his lap. In that split second of hesitation, the fifteen year old boy pulls on the handle of the car door and without even a breath of delay-

Jumps.

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The streets get more and more quiet as Izuku walks further into the depths of a city. A path he can’t seem to get out of his head no matter how hard he tries.

It’s raining. The streetlamps grow scarce when the curly haired teenager walks straight past the main roads lined with shops and houses of those rich enough to be welcomed by society and favoured by the city council.

Soon enough the occasional flashes of lightning accompanied by rumbles of thunder are the only source of brightness despite the fact that sundown is in twenty minutes but the clouds are so thick and dark and the rain is so heavy it doesn’t really matter anymore.

And everything is silent. The downpour enough to scare off most stragglers who couldn’t do anything except run for shelter, and the constant growl of electricity charged clouds threatening enough to get rid of the rest. By now the storm’s been raging so violently for enough time that everyone who wasn’t able to get where they needed to be fast is safe and dry.

Except the one.

Shoes worn, soggy, and knotted messily but tight enough to make sure they don’t come undone no matter how far he walks. Clothes heavy and dark, caked with mud that’s been diluted by the constant drip of rain into a dirty splotch of brown staining the front of his shirt and part of his pants. Hair dripping, dark, tangled by wind, heavy, more wavy than curly after hours of abuse from pounding rain, covers his face like a curtain.

It’s been two hours and two minutes since he stabbed his mother and jumped out of a car. Every step is part of what should be a walk of shame or guilt but at this point Izuku can’t seem to feel anything anymore.

The rain begins to slow to a small shower, then a sprinkle, then nothing but the puddles so large they could be ponds or miniature lakes. The storm drains are overrun and can’t seem to put a dent in the sheer amount of water coating the city.

But by the times the clouds clear, the sun has set and all that’s left is an ashy indigo sky that’s a bit too bright to see all the stars until the night grows darker.

Hypothetically, if the freckled genius wanted to, he could’ve been where he needs to be but there’s really no need to rush when your feet feel like lead. One red shoe, then the other. A slow pace set when he ran far enough on a twisted path to make sure his parents couldn’t follow or find him and the first drop of rain hit his nose as he looked up at the sky, peaceful and free for the first time in far too long.

So it’s just one foot in front of the other, and it’s slow enough that the next time he takes his blank, empty gaze of off the ground and looks up at the sky he can see stars. And they’re beautiful. They reflect in his wide eyes, vast and unending and he can’t tell you how many there are and he doesn’t want to because he looks at the stars, sopping wet, shivering, alone in the middle of a dark city, and feels normal.

Wouldn’t it be nice to be a star?

After enough time has passed though, his neck begins to ache from the weight of his head and his hair and he feels so heavy and he’s so tired, he’s been walking for so long. So again he puts one foot in front of the other and walks along the abandoned alleyways.

He knows he’s close when the pavement starts to reek of piss, stale beer, cigarettes, and blood.

All of a sudden it feels too fast, he’s not ready yet but his feet still go forward, one in front of the other, dragging along the cracked ground that crumbles away with even the slightest amount of weight because society has exiled the bad side of town simply because it wasn’t nice to look at and left them to fend for themselves as the world around them crumbles and the ‘heroes’ don’t lift a finger to try and help. It’s really no surprise they all became villains.

There’s a substantial wooden door stained a rich dark brown with an iron doorknob in front of him. There’s no lock but it’s more a sign of confidence that nobody could succeed in breaking into or robbing this building than a lack of common sense.

Warm, bright light shines from the windows above his head and he can hear the chattering of voices accompanied by the occasional thump of something that could only be a knife hitting its target. Behind this door there’s a staircase and another door but behind that is freedom, laughter, and it’s real.

A small hand grips the handle. There’s really only one choice. By now they’ve probably sent a search party out for him and a warrant for his arrest. But even the adults he had the mistake of trusting can’t find him here.

However, there’s a certain park in the middle of a dark alleyway not more than half a mile away from the very place where he stands and if he wants to avoid going back to that suffocating fake smile and the buildings that felt more like cages, there’s another option.

It calls to him longingly, as if the shabby structure so full of life missed his presence. A small gust of wind ruffles through his hair and he shudders, pulling the door open and letting the comforting glow of stolen lamps and candles spill out onto the pavement. He pauses to bask in the light for a second, taking a step forward before hesitating and turning around one last time.

The green haired boy looks up to the stars and sees the silhouette of a long haired underground hero facing the other way, surveying the city for any sign of him, lit up by the glow from the moon.

A cloud passes over the crescent, blanketing the city in flat darkness.

Aizawa fades into the dim background like a shadow.

It almost seems like he was never there to begin with.

Izuku thinks it suits him.

Chapter 16

Chapter Text

He turns around, looking back at the warm light, facing away from the darkness of the night and the adult he trusted once upon a time.

At the same time the underground hero jumps to another roof, not noticing the boy hiding behind his back.

The door shuts softly, clicking easily as Izuku steps off of the dark pavement and onto the old hardwood floors that creak in appreciation at his weight.

Distantly, the greenette registers Tomura and Dabi fighting over who knows what while Toga and Twice cackle on the sidelines. All of a sudden he’s up the stairs and at the second door. Oddly enough, despite knowing Dabi and Kurogiri stole it from a pedophile’s house and it’s most likely hollow on the inside because it’s so light and smells like it’s rotting, Izuku thinks this door is twice as heavy as the one made of rich, expensive, heavy, mahogany. (They stole that from a pedophile too but that one was clearly high up in the world)

All of a sudden, Izuku is face to face with a man that looks just as shocked as he is to see him back here. Scarlet eyes and pale blue hair, bandages wrapped haphazardly around his neck, blood soaking through the gaps, skin cracked and dry just like it was when they first met.

The chatter and laughter that once filled the air fades into shocked silence as Tomura stutters and fails to form a sentence and Izuku feels tears clouding his vision.

“Didn’t I tell you to stop scratching your neck, Tomura?” The freckled boy says, his eyes soft and his tone softer. He’s smiling slightly up at the man, still dripping wet and covered with mud but somehow warmer than he’s been in months.

All of a sudden trembling arms grab him tight and pull him close. At first the younger tenses and flinches at the sudden movement, stiff and still. But after a moment, there’s a choked sob coming from the ‘villain’ whose head is buried in the quirkless genius’s shoulder so Izuku lets his own limp, heavy, wet arms wrap around his friend hesitantly, and forces his body to relax.

“I’m gonna get you wet.” He whispers out sadly. From the corner of his eye he can see Toga looking at him with glittering wet eyes, face scrunched up as if determined not to burst into tears.

“Don’t care. You’re back. That’s all that matters.” The adult child says in a thick, slightly muffled voice. And it’s slightly too vulnerable and caring for Izuku but maybe he’s just happy to see his friend again?

Toga gives into her urges and runs over, jumping on the fellow teenager with her arms stretched out wide. She latches onto him tightly as if determined to never let him go again. The green eyed boy notes that both she and Tomura have lost weight and their arms are much too thin to be healthy. The three of them just stand there, hugging each other for a long time, enough to be awkward for anyone else but they’ve missed this so much.

“Now now, are we just going to hug and not include others? That’s kinda cliquey don’t you think?” Dabi drawls out jokingly. Izuku lets out a wet chuckle and lets the back haired man join in. Eventually Twice comes over and gives him an awkward pat on the head before retreating to his room.

“Excuse him, he’s socially awkward.” Kurogiri pipes up in a cheery voice. And again the greenette laughs, letting himself relish this moment while it lasts.

He’s free.

There’s a messy exchange of ‘welcome back’s and ‘we missed you’ and ‘we’re sorry’s in the next five minutes of hugging and crying before Kurogiri comes over like the ever responsible adult he is and shooes them away.

“Honestly, Midoriya-san, you’re going to catch a cold and you’re so skinny. Go dry off. Toga can lend you some clothes. You’re tiny enough to fit into them.” Izuku’s eyes sparkle as Kurogiri materialises an undoubtedly stolen towel and places it over his sopping wet curls. It’s softer and warm and he can feel himself tearing up again. Tomura clenches his hands into fists as Toga goes to search for some clothing that might fit the boy.

“Go on, quick!” Kurogiri ushers him off to an empty room that has some suspicious stains littering the floors, and chains bolted to the wall. The quirkless boy knows it’s a torture room but it really doesn’t matter much to him at this point.

There’s a knock on the door and a rushed call of ‘who is it?’ reveals a blonde girl who has unapologetically just kicked the door in. The greenette jumps as she barges in holding a pile of clothes. He’s luckily still wearing his thin long sleeved shirt and jeans that refuse to peel off of his skin no matter how hard he tries.

She sets the pile of oversized sweaters and one pair of sweatpants drop at the foot of the rickety metal bed frame with a rock hard mattress on it. After a few seconds she walks back to the door and closes it, before settling on the stained, cheap mattress, her eyes less bright than they were in the main room.

“Oh, Toga.” Izuku says in a soft, sad voice. Her dull eyes look up at his equally dead pair. Red meets green in another embrace. It’s a bit more desperate and personal than the one at the entrance. A few tears drop on his wet shoulder, warm as opposed to the cold rain. He doesn’t really mind. It was already sopping anyways.

“I’m sorry.” The girl wipes at her eyes. Slowly, the two pull away from each other and just sit together.

“Don’t apologise for crying.” Izuku scolds lightly, putting an arm around the slightly more petite teenager as she hangs her head in shame.

“No. I’m sorry about what happened when you left last time.” Toga absently spins her favourite knife in her hand. Her face is blank and yet the freckled genius can tell she’s full of regret.

“You didn’t do anything wrong, you were just listening to orders.” He shakes his head, droplets land on her face and the walls but she doesn’t even blink.

“But-” Abruptly, Izuku stands up, turning around on his heel to face her. Scarlet irises ripple as the civilian cups the villain’s cheeks in his hands. Immediately, her cheeks flush and she tries to turn away but he holds firm, forcing her to meet his eyes.

“It’s not your fault. I’m not going to scream and cry and yell at you. I’m not going to go silent and ignore you. I’m not going to say it’s fine either, but I’m not going to hate you for something that was out of your control.” Again the quirked girl’s face scrunches up. She bites her lip in a pitiful attempt to prevent tears from leaking out. He chuckles, and sits back down. Toga leans over and after a moment’s hesitation, drops her head onto the boy’s wet shoulder.

“I’m sorry.” It fills the silence, two words she felt obligated to blurt out despite everything he just told her. She remembers how he had looked straight to her when he needed help. And she knew how much he hates adults and still she was blank and resigned as he begged for her help. Never again does she want to feel as hopeless and useless as she did then. Himiko Toga is not a puppet and she never will be.

“I forgive you.” Izuku slings an arm around her shoulder and she melts into his touch, being starved of human contact from a young age does that to you. It’s silent after that. Just two fifteen year old children, almost complete opposites, hanging onto the other as if their life depends on it.

“You should change. If you get a cold Kurogiri is going to hold this over my head forever.” Finally, the fanged teenager pulls away, already missing the warmth of touching another human being.

The greenette nods and begins struggling as he tries to pull off his wet shirt. Eventually though, Toga takes pity on him and they work together to untangle him from the wet fabric. She barely bats an eye as he struggles with his jeans and a few minutes later they’ve collapsed into a pile of laughter as they try their absolute best to take off his soaked jeans.

“You’re gonna have to keep on the underwear you’ve got on now. I mean, unless you want to-” Toga says nonchalantly, a sh*t eating grin spreading over her cheeks as Izuku pulls on the hello kitty sweatpants and lets the last bit of his manly pride bleed away when he realises they fit. And no matter what the cutesy villain sings out they are not loose at all.

Luckily, the girl’s obsession with looking cute and red didn’t flood her entire wardrobe. He sports a large brown sweater that hangs off of his smaller than healthy frame in an unflattering fashion.

He walks into the bar fully clothed and just slightly damp all around, ruffling his tangled hair back to life with the towel provided for him. He doesn’t notice when Tomura tenses up and stubbornly won’t look his way, too busy having a ‘thank you’ battle with Kurogiri that he refuses to lose.

Dabi pats him on the back with a startlingly hot hand, making the younger jump slightly as he tries to thank Kurogiri for the fiftieth time.

“Glad to have you back, kid.” The scarred man says, a warm smile on his face, eyes tight and haunted but still softer than he’s ever seen them before.

“Glad to be back.” Izuku replies, turning around in his bar stool, a tired smile spreading on his face. He shakes his head in a last ditch attempt to dry it off as best as he can after it’s clear the used towel is getting him more wet than dry. Tomura tries to get the image of a puppy shaking itself off out of his head.

Toga screeches happily as she rummages through the pile of DVDs in the corner of the room. She beckons the greenette over to choose from the small stack of movies she hand picked for them to watch. Kurogiri politely consults Izuku as he chooses between the remaining three movies he has picked out.

Soon enough they’re piled on the couch chattering excitedly as the introduction starts up. Dabi shushes them when the main characters start to speak in vain. Tomura welcomes the distraction and tries his best not to look at the giggling boy bundled up underneath several layers of fluffy blankets. Kurogiri pops some popcorn, trying to pretend he’s not watching the video out of the corner of his eye. And Twice doesn’t really know what’s going on but is excited nonetheless.

Toga lets herself relax as the movie progresses. Her eyes widen and shine as she admires the animation with rapt attention. The blue light from the television glows onto her face, making her look young and innocent. Izuku thinks if anyone saw her right now they’d never think she was a villain.

Surprisingly enough, Dabi is the only one crying as the movie reaches its climax. Tomura will never let him live it down. But the pale man can’t really judge him for crying when he himself has barely even glanced at the screen. A freckled face with wide green eyes, sparkling with wonder and full of stars as the movie depicts a comet flying through the sky. There’s a soft glow illuminating Izuku’s cheeks as he smiles and frowns at the screen, more at ease and full of life than he’s ever seen him.

Kurogiri’s everwatchful eye catches the other as he scratches his neck absentmindedly. The blue haired man meets his gaze and can tell that the other knows. He retreats to his room abruptly, walking as quickly as he can and shutting the door behind him with a quiet click. Tomura slides his back down the wood and pulls his knees up to his chest as he reaches the ground.

And cries.

Because it hurts. It hurts to feel like this. And it’s not like he wants to feel this way. It’s not his choice and it’s wrong it’s so wrong. He’s in love with Izuku. It hurts. Tears fall down his face. He lets himself sob silently. He’s so confused. What is he supposed to do? What if Izuku hates him? He can’t ever let them find out. It hurts to love Izuku. But it’s not as if Tomura hasn’t known that it hurts to love.

Sensei chuckles evilly somewhere in the back of his mind.

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Izuku opens his eyes and is greeted by the pleasantly tired looking face of Aizawa. He leaps into the older man’s arms and nuzzles his head into his shoulder. Whispers of ‘I missed you’s and ‘i’m sorry’s spill through his lips, all thoughts of betrayal gone. The pro hero looks at him oddly, like the shorter is a frustratingly difficult puzzle he has to make sense of and he’s running out of time.

And it hurts.

Because Aizawa has never looked at him like that. Aizawa is warm and safe and smells like coffee and mint shampoo. Suddenly, Izuku can feel a large hand pulling him in closer, pressing his skull to the other’s chest. But it’s weird because he’s just noticed that this hold he’s in feels cold and dangerous and it’s scaring him and Aizawa suddenly smells like alcohol and sweat.

“Izuku.” A deep voice purrs out sinfully.

The green haired boy goes stiff immediately. There’s no way. He’s dead. Tomura killed him. Tomura wouldn’t lie to him. The large hand that isn’t Aizawa’s moves lower and Izuku stifles a choked sob, scrunching his eyes as tight as he can.

He opens his eyes and finds that instead of a cold embrace, a crisp breeze swirls around him, making him shiver. The boy looks around. He’s sitting now barefoot on the edge of a building.

Something warm trickles down his leg, Izuku looks at the stream of blood trailing down his thighs and watches it drip with something akin to peace. He’s been sitting here for so long and yet it feels as if no time has passed at all.

Out of the corner of his eye, Izuku can see a man. He’s intimidatingly tall and the boy wants nothing more than to be alone right now but there’s something familiar about the looming figure standing over him.

“Wake up.”

Izuku jolts awake, flinching before he opens his eyes. Absentmindedly he brushes his hand against his thighs and looks at his fingers as they come away dry and not at all bloody. The greenette slumps in relief. It was just a dream.

He looks around the room drearily. And maybe he should’ve had his priorities straight but it was a strangely realistic dream. He doesn’t know where the f*ck he is. But it’s the sound of grumbling voices and the scent of coffee, alcohol, and blood that reminds him that he’s with the League.

The freckled genius lets himself sit under the blankets, curled up in a ball staring blankly at the blood stained wall that somehow manages to be more comforting and safe than the ones in his bedroom with Inko and Hisahi.

A ray of sunshine beams through the tiny window covered with an iron grate and right over his left eye. Izuku sighs and sits up, feeling a heavy sort of sadness that he can’t seem to shake off settle in his chest.

Rubbing his face drowsily, the greenette walks slowly out of his temporary room and into the bar. Dabi looks at him with insufferable tiredness marring his expression as he sips a cup of coffee and moans in appreciation and flaps a hand out towards Kurogiri who looks amused as if this happens every single day.

The fire user waps the warp villain weakly with his hand, leaning over onto the counter with a pouty face. Whines of ‘thank you Kurogiri.’s and ‘you are a god’s tumble out of the scarred man’s mouth as he nearly cries over the coffee.

Tomura watches the display with clear annoyance as he sips his iced mocha with contentment. Izuku sits on his barstool and gives the bartender only a few years older than himself a pitiful frown, trying to beg the man with his eyes alone.

“Should be any minute now. You came right on time Midoriya-san.” The yellow eyed teen comments with casual politeness as he pours a cup of iced coffee for the curly haired boy.

“What-” He starts but is interrupted by a shout of excitement from the hallway. Dabi has perked up and has turned his body towards the doorway while he chugs down his piping hot coffee with ease. Tomura tilts his head ever so slightly to look in the same direction while trying to appear as uninterested and nonchalant as ever but failing when he leans back in his stool to get a better view. Even Kurogiri pauses in his work after placing Izuku’s drink in front of him. It feels weird to not see him polishing a glass.

Toga hops through the door, extremely jumpy and excited. She smothers a grumbling Twice who drags his feet with every step and sends her a withering glare that she pointedly ignores. The young girl has her hair up in a braid that whips at the adult’s face when she spins around him chattering animatedly. To his credit, it takes a whole forty-five seconds for the cloning man to lose his patience.

Dabi slurps his tea loudly and Izuku now watches the scene unfolding before him with rapt fascination. Tomura hisses as he accidentally disintegrates the handle of his mug but doesn’t dare take his eyes off of the amusing display.

The man split in half makes around ten clones of himself and the greenette dimly thinks of the shadow clone jutsu from Naruto. The clones immediately launch on the younger who slips out of their hold with ease, doing a flip in the air as she jumps back. It’s clear that neither is trying to significantly injure the other and that Toga is doing it for fun while Twice looks like he’d rather be in bed than anywhere near her.

Spars aren’t very rare for the League to do, it’s actually something they do when training sometimes but it’s always amusing to watch these two fight. They know each other inside and out. Exchanged kicks, twists, punches, and blocks look choreographed and practiced to look so graceful Izuku thinks it looks like they're dancing.

Of course the moment doesn’t last long. Soon enough the younger knicks the man on his forehead, a cut that could’ve been fatal if they weren’t actually playing and licks the blood off of her knife. After a few minutes of ‘I’m the real Twice!’s and indignant responses of ‘No, I’m the real Twice!’ Toga drops the illusion and knees the other in the crotch.

He drops to the ground and the petite villain poses like a triumphant wrestler as she props her foot on his hunched back. Kurogiri makes a wheezing noise that sounds like the shell of what was once a laugh and pulls out a whiteboard. He marks down a dash next to the girl’s name and stashes the board away somewhere.

“The current score, as of this morning is 9-82 in Himiko-san’s favour.”

“Giri-chan! I told you to stop calling me Himiko! It makes me sound like an old lady which is not cute at all.” She pouts, hopping onto the vacant barstool beside the quirkless boy with a wide grin.

A pissed off and dead to the world Twice drags himself over to the bar and drapes his body over the counter, trying to use puppy eyes on an immune Kurogiri who simply ignores him in favour of making the other use his words.

“Kurogiri-sama-” A giggle spills out of Toga and Izuku’s lips at the sight of a struggling middle aged, blonde villain pleading for a cup of coffee. He grumbles something that sounds vaguely like ‘damn kids’, ‘the f*ck is she always so energetic’, and ‘every damn morning’. And after a whopping six minutes and fifty one seconds the warp villain places an industrial sized mug in front of the older man.

Dabi changes the channel on the television sleepily from channel to channel. It flashes from a childish cartoon to the news and for a moment everyone freezes. There’s a picture of Izuku plastered in the corner of the screen and a reporter raving on about his description. It can only mean one thing. He’s a wanted criminal. There’s a country wide search going on for him.

The entirety of the League turns to him and even though he’s put them in danger by coming here, and they are all expecting an answer right now, their eyes are full of trust and worry and it makes him feel warm and cared for.

Suddenly the screen cuts to a hysterically sobbing woman cupping her hand and panting as if the injury on her hand is affecting her lungs. He scowls, Inko. The woman raves on about how he suddenly attacked her and must be crazy and how she only wants her little boy back and spurts lies about how everything came about, lip wobbling pathetically at the camera.

He should’ve killed her. Should’ve stabbed that pen through her neck to make her shut up for once. Should’ve put his strength and speed training to use and gone for the heart. He should’ve killed her.

But he’s glad he didn’t.

Izuku doesn’t think he could handle the guilt of murdering somebody right now.

Maybe someday.

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Tomura stands up with an angry look on his face and storms out of the room. Izuku feels tears stream down his face more violently than before. Toga shushes him, tears of her own falling lightly out of her eyes.

“Do you hate me?” He whispers quietly, looking down at the ground. If they kick him out he’ll have nowhere to go and he doesn’t want to leave. Dabi pats his head and makes the younger look up at him with wide eyes.

“No way, kid. Thanks for telling us.” The scarred man gives him a grin and ruffles his hair. Izuku’s face scrunches up as he hugs the taller. Twice makes an offhand comment about how they’re bad hosts for making their esteemed guest cry every ten minutes and makes Izuku laugh and wipe his tears away, not really that upset anymore.

“Don’t worry about Tomura, ‘Zuku-chan. He’s not angry at you, he’s angry for you.” Toga says casually, spinning her knife in circles as she tries to process the overload of information just dumped on her. She feels her gut clench in anger at what she just learned about the greenette’s childhood and imagines stabbing Inko Midoriya with several knives to calm herself down.

He tries to not feel sick to his stomach as he thinks about how he told them everything and now he can’t hide it anymore. Kurogiri silently hands him a Shirley temple and he chugs it down without a second thought, coughing slightly as the carbonation tickles his throat.

They all just kind of sit there for a few minutes, trying to process the new influx of information gifted to them by the quirkless boy. Toga furrows her brow and watches the television again. The news story has since changed to an overdramatic battle between a hero and a villain in the middle of the rich district where all of the cameras are.

Nobody really knows what to do or how they should be reacting as they continue to stare at the hunched teenager before them. Silently, Dabi pats him on the shoulder with a sad look on his face like he can understand what the younger has gone through and Izuku doesn’t have to be a genius to figure out exactly what the Todoroki household is like behind closed doors.

So they walk together, circled around Izuku as if trying to protect him at all costs. Tomura somehow appears from thin air and walks with the group. They don’t warp to their destination like usual. A walk is what everyone needs.

And the moment red sneakers step onto the concrete of an abandoned warehouse far away from the bar, an unspoken agreement is spread between them. Villains, who were never welcomed or taught better or given forgiveness, who don’t really know how to handle emotions only have one way to vent.

Toga runs laps, so fast that even the ever quick Spinner can’t keep up. A new addition to the team who really doesn’t know why they’re all so angry but will go along with it anyways. Tomura dissolves a wall before agreeing to a spar with Twice who has made at least thirty clones.

Dabi doesn’t even bother to enter the building, instead standing in the middle of what once used to be a basketball court. It’s covered in soot and the ground is pitch black. Izuku soon finds out why. The scarred man explodes into a blaze of blue flames and screams in pain and anger as if releasing pent up emotions from the past ten years of his lifetime.

But the most astounding thing to Izuku is that he feels the air, he knows it’s heavy with fury and he should feel scared of unsafe because this is twice as potent as the anger she would have before hurting him but for some reason it makes him happy and he can’t help but revel in how secure he feels. And it takes a moment for the shock to process the fact that though they’re being angry and are releasing pent up emotions in various ways, some more violent than others- that they aren’t hurting him, aren’t taking it out on him like Inko always did.

Suddenly every excuse every adult made to him for her behavior pops up into his mind. ‘It wasn’t her fault, you know that she just bottles it up and then some unfortunate soul sets it off.’ being the most common one from Hisashi. Why did she bottle it up? What did she have to bottle up? She was angry all the time. Why is she always so angry? What did he do to make her so furious? Why did she have to take it out on him? Were there no other solutions? Why didn’t she do what the League does?

Not a finger is laid on him as the League takes out their pent frustration on the poor building, sparring occasionally but never hurting each other, knowing their limits. Why doesn’t it make sense anymore? Again everything Izuku thought he knew, thought he learned out of survival, comes crashing down and he was wrong. It wasn’t his fault it was hers.

Toga snaps him out of his thoughts when he hears her approaching, huffing violently, but looking content and a bit tired. She’s not wearing her typical cutesy sailor outfit. Instead she’s in a t-shirt and shorts, covered with a light sheen of sweat. He looks around and sees everyone in similarly athletic attire, besides Dabi who is shirtless and wearing fireproof shorts to stay decent while Twice yells at him, still wearing his own mask, to cover up.

He looks down at his clothes and he’s still wearing the sweater and sweatpants. The blonde girl beckons him over to the bunch where they’re arranging spars and starting their stretches and training regimen, all looking a bit frustrated but relaxed and content overall.

Izuku tugs off his shirt and runs over in his tank top and sweatpants, getting into fighting position as Dabi looks at him amused and motivated. There’s a spark in the greenette’s eyes that wasn’t there before. The fire quirked man looks at the quirkless boy and grins.

Finally.

His eyes are bright and determined and he’s looking at Dabi as if daring him to go easy. So Dabi starts first, spewing out burning blue flames that are easily dodged. As the Todoroki goes on the offensive side, throwing out ropes of scalding hot fire after the green blur that is the teenager. Suddenly it all pauses and the curly haired boy slowly opens his eyes, making direct eye contact, face neutral and dangerous in a way that excites the elder with the promise of a good fight.

And Izuku lets himself be angry.

To anybody who may try and guess the outcome of the battle between a man with a fire quirk stronger than Endeavor’s and a quirkless boy, who thinks the outcome is obvious. It would be in your best interest to know it’s obvious the latter will win. Intelligent eyes, flexible, quick, amazingly strong, skilled, and easily underestimated, Izuku takes down his opponent with ease after five minutes.

Dabi groans as he gets up, pride bruised, and pressure points sore from where Izuku jabbed them until he went limp and his quirk simply wouldn’t activate. Tomura’s keen eyes observe the battle. The greenette went easy on him, knowing his own and his opponents limits, despite letting out his frustration in the match, he knew when to stop and took his opponent down without hurting them much, but dragging out the fight a bit to let himself get out some energy first.

Toga runs up and spurts praise excitedly, Izuku smiles at her, asking if she would like to spar with him, which she readily agrees to. At first, the boy insists she can use weapons and he’ll be fine without them, but she shoves a pack of five knives into his arms and instructs him to hide them. Dimly, Izuku realises it will be a weapons fight, whoever is completely disarmed first loses. He feels excitement of his own well up in his chest as she turns around to let him hide his knives discretely over his body. This is good training, this is stuff the heroes never taught him. None of them knew enough to teach him much of anything, relying solely on their quirks, but the League. They know how to fight. It gets him worked up a bit, a wild smile plastered on his face.

It has been a long time since even Nedzu challenged him in the slightest.

But the League of Villains. Every single one of them is unpredictable, and they teach him things he didn’t know and they never fail to make him feel welcome and included unlike the heroes who made him feel alone and like he stuck out, like he had no choice. Here, he always has a choice.

Suddenly the vampire-ish girl charges at him with no warning. She grins sheepishly, he can’t help but return the smile as he flips her over and grabs the knife out of her hand, throwing it to the side. Of course, Toga has always fought dirty.

The spar gets down to the wire, but eventually, he analyses her moves and uses them against her, getting the last knife from it’s spot in her shoe just a moment before she plucks his last weapon from his pocket.

It’s invigorating, being so challenged. He thinks, as he sweats, breathing heavier than he has in months. After winning his spar against Twice, Spinner, Kurogiri, tying against Dabi and Toga after a rematch, and losing to Tomura (who is surprisingly stronger than he thought) at the bitter end of the training session, the sun long gone from the sky. His joints are aching, and he’s exhausted but feels lighter than he has in months when he loses to Tomura.

He lost.

It’s the first time it’s happened in a very long time.

Motivation to win charges the boy’s body but he inwardly hopes he continues to lose because it’s been so long since he’s had motivation like this. Even if he wasn’t that tired and Tomura had trained harder than anyone else, muttering about increasing his combat points as he grew more and more exhausted, he still beat the little genius. Suddenly Izuku doesn’t feel so alone. He feels normal.

Izuku thinks it’s just wonderful.

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“Any sign of the kid?” Aizawa sighs, rubbing his temples. He should’ve known the boy would run. But legally CPS was making him give that woman Izuku and heroes aren’t allowed to disobey the law. But now it’s all messed up.

“He’s probably staying with the League of Villains according to the report we got from Hawks.” Detective Tsukauchi says, rereading the psych evaluation Hound Dog put together for them.

The long haired man looks over at the number three hero. No remorse shows on the blonde’s emotionless, alert face, professional to the core. But Aizawa sees that flash of betrayal, sadness, regret, anger, and conflict in the winged man’s eyes. He’s always been good at reading people after all. The only person to ever escape his scrutiny was Izuku who could become a blank slate that not even Nedzu would try to comprehend. And now the boy’s gone.

“Dabi has cut off all contact with me, so they must’ve talked about Midoriya’s relationship with us.” Hawks says quietly, as if the words pain him. He looks to the ground, head hung in something close to shame before Tsukauchi takes pity on him and lets him leave. After all this is information that was reported a week ago when the child stabbed his mother and bolted, he just needed to verify it himself.

The human lie detector has politely pretended not to notice the anguish on Eraser Head’s face when they announced Izuku’s involvement with the League of Villains and put a warrant out for his arrest, slapping the fifteen year old on the wanted list. Aizawa gives him a withering glare as he adjusts his position on the flimsy fold out chairs that look stained in the glare of the light of the interrogation room.

“So, you are the only adult acquaintance of Midoriya Izuku besides Nedzu that has not yet been interviewed. And if I may confirm, you two were the closest out of everyone in UA?” The detective has a pen ready, the black haired man glares at it as if hoping he can stare at it hard enough for it to explode.

“I let him stay at my apartment after he left his parent’s house.” Aizawa says carefully, obviously avoiding the question.

“Do you know why he left?” The police detective asks.

“Heard that he was going back to his parents and bolted, I caught him and gave him to the family.” The underground hero says resolutely. Tsukauchi mentions something about teenagers and hormones and anger issues and how Aizawa must be important to Izuku if he lived with him.

“We already know where the hideout is thanks to Hawks meeting up with that villain with the scars, Davi, I think? He followed him back to their place. Izuku is still a minor and potentially could be innocent in this case. We need to get him back, he’s got too much information and he’s too valuable in terms of intelligence and skill for us to lose to the villains. Go save him and make up with him or whatever.” Tsukauchi says in an annoyingly superior voice. The security guards glare at him as he leaves the room. Aizawa groans tiredly, He really does hate cops.

There’s a group of people in the waiting room all looking at him solemnly. He closes his eyes and opens them again, hoping they’ll be gone when he looks again. They aren’t. The long haired man sits in a chair and salutes Nedzu, not sparing a glance at the blonde wearing the tacky spandex.

“What.” The resident insomniac deadpans.

“Aizawa, welcome. As you know, Midoriya Izuku is currently with the League of Villains. We suspect it was willing given his recent resentment towards heroes. Now, to put it bluntly. We need to get him back. He has valuable information about the League of Villains and a very impressive brain. It isn’t exactly urgent yet but All Might has graciously offered to retrieve him.” Nedzu says cheerily. It’s clear he doesn’t think the quirkless boy is much of a threat at the moment and is simply here to keep the situation under control.

“Good for him.” Inwardly, Aizawa’s heart aches. Why does he feel so guilty? He just followed the law. Maybe Midoriya was exaggerating and even if it was a bad situation she’s going on medication and getting therapy. Why does he care so much? Why does his house feel so cold and empty and why does he feel like he’s failed the kid?

He went after him the night Midoriya stabbed his mother and he was nowhere to be found, how could he have missed it? He’s a hero and the kid was hanging out with villains under his nose.

“You see, there is evidence that points to Midoriya having a very strong dislike for All Might and we were thinking since he was so fond of you and you two were so close you could-” Nedzu sips on a porcelain cup that seems to accompany him everywhere he goes.

“No.” The erasure hero says. He can’t risk getting attached to the boy, plus, he’s getting the feeling this whole dilemma is all his fault. Also, he hates All Might almost as much as Midoriya.

“Aizawa.” Nedzu fixes him with a steely glare, still sipping from his teacup with a pleasant smile, his voice is cheery but there’s an edge to it now. He sits up ramrod straight and meets the quirked animal’s eyes. “That was an order.” Robotically, the underground pro hero stands up and bows, nodding his head. All Might struts after him with a map leading to the hideout. He snatches it from the large man’s hands and reads it. The erasure hero jumps onto a roof and runs across the top of the city towards the location, hearing the telltale thumps of messy landings by the number one hero right behind him.

A nagging voice in his brain tells him he’s going to regret this and that it’s all going to go wrong and Izuku must hate him.

Aizawa is beginning to think it’s right.

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Tomura walks through the halls and unlocks a metal door hidden in the back of a closet hastily, locking it behind him and jogging through the metal tunnel, his shoes making little clanging noises when they hit the tin.

He emerges from the other side and slips onto the concrete of an abandoned warehouse. It smells like a hospital and something burning. His sensei turns in his chair and beckons him closer as a greeting.

The blue haired man bows in thanks and walks forward to a chair. They make small talk for all of thirty seconds before Donyoku bluntly demands to know why he’s here.

“Sensei, what do you think of Izuku?” Tomura asks after a second of hesitation, scratching his neck as if stressed about something.

“Why do you ask a question you know the answer to?” The man asks. The childish adult knows how much he despises the boy, only letting him stay here because he wants him to become a villain.

“I think I’m in love with him.” The pale man blurts out. All For One just laughs menacingly, he lowers his voice and the air around them grows heavy and dark. It’s quite obvious really, the immature video game obsessed brat has always naively cared about those who show even the slightest amount of human affection towards him.

“Strip your soul naked and let him see how ugly it is, Tenko. Do you really think he could ever love you? You are simply unloveable. Listen to me, I’m your sensei right?” All For One says tauntingly, harsh and hurtful, relishing in the way his student’s body slumps with his words. Of course the boy will listen to him, he saved him, he’s the man who raised him. With luck this will make Tomura more obedient, maybe even a bit more mature.

“You’re lying.” To his surprise, the cry skinned man looks up at him, eyes narrowed and enraged, tears threatening to spill over his cheeks for the first time since he was four years old. And the centuries old man feels fear for the first time in years. For once, he feels like the prey instead of the predator.

“Izuku does not love you, Tenko.” He says in a calm and even tone, what does he even have to worry about in this situation? As if this boy could ever raise a hand against him.

“Don’t call me that! That’s not my name!” Tomura shouts out, not exactly denying the. If Donyoku had eyebrows he would’ve raised them. Tomura is still just standing there, face shadowed by the looks of it. The vision quirk that he got recently is really just there for convenience, he knows this kid inside out. This level of disrespect should not be fathomable after all this time spent looking at his sensei with stars in his eyes.

“In fact, I believe that Izuku might even hate you.” All For One says in a dangerously annoyed voice. How dare this inferior being talk to him like this. He waves the boy away and turns back to his monitor. But Tomura’s presence doesn’t fade or warp away. It stays, it gets closer.

The centuries old man turns around and the pale blue haired that he raised and saved is standing above him, looming, sobbing like the baby he is. What a weakling. It’s such a shame that he has a strong quirk and the right relatives to completely destroy All Might. He can’t even steal the quirk because five point touch related quirks are such a hassle and would be difficult to manage.

He opens his mouth to speak but pauses as he starts to make a sound and catches a glimpse of his student’s eyes. Hard, unforgiving, angry, hurt, and desperate. These are the eyes that Tomura has when he talks of killing All Might. All For One has seen them far too many times to mistake them for anything else. But why are these eyes on Tomura right now when they are not even talking about the number one hero? He feels his shoulder disintegrating away far too late, nerves numb from all the damage he got in his battle with All Might five years ago.

“Didn’t you get rid of all of your healing quirks when you took that vision quirk recently, Sensei?” Tomura asks with wide eyes that burn through his faceless skull as he places his other hand on the mouth that told him Izuku hates him.

And All For One realises that he has miscalculated greatly. Tomura doesn’t just love the quirkless boy, he’s obsessed. He’s fallen completely to the kind smile of Midoriya Izuku. He chose his student because of his insanely strong quirk. The heritage was just a bonus. But with a quirk like that by his side, as an obedient weapon he can control the every movement of, he thought he would be unstoppable. Never once did he expect it would turn on him like this.

Blood drips to the ground but all the noises of struggle and the squishes of bloody flesh that the strongest man makes as he overcomes the shock that gave his student the advantage, fall on deaf ears. Tomura looks at his bloody hands and then at the headless man in front of him and disintegrates the rest of his body just to be safe.

Shigaraki Tomura stands alone in a warehouse full of beeping machines and medical equipment with wires that lead to nothing, standing in a pool of blood, and can’t bring himself to regret it. His sensei is dead and he was second in command.

The red eyed man walks quietly to the hideout and into the bar. The conversation that buzzed around the room comes to an abrupt stop at the sight of him. He steps into the center of the room and looks them all in the eyes.

“I killed him. I killed Sensei.” They all open their mouths and shock and Kurogiri looks conflicted between angry and relieved. Izuku looks him up and down as if checking him out, before giving him a wide smile and it makes Tomura even more glad that he just murdered the man who raised him in cold blood.

It’s Kurogiri who kneels first, head bowed to the ground as if the barely adult before him is wearing a crown and robes. Then twice kneels too. Spinner goes next. Toga looks at him quizzically for a second and eyes the blood hungrily before kneeling with her head bowed respectfully as a sign of trust. Dabi goes down grudgingly, reluctantly impressed that Tomura killed All For One.

There’s an air of lightness and relief and excitement and worry but above all there’s awe. He turns towards the quirkless boy he did it for and basks in the way Izuku looks at him as if he hung the stars, before kneeling down, but not bowing his head for he is not a member of the League. But his eyes stay on Tomura, admiration and excitement bleeding onto his face as he realises exactly how strong he actually is.

Tomura stands in the middle of a bar, dripping in a puddle of blood of what used to be the strongest man in the world. He relishes in the feeling of power that possesses him from overcoming his teacher, looking at how they all bow to him with a grin on his face.

And with that, the League crowns a new leader.

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“We have come to save you, young Midoriya!” All Might yells out triumphantly. Eraser Head jumps in after him and immediately erases Dabi’s quirk as the scarred man approaches him.

“Go for Eraser Head’s eyes. Twice lend me some clones. All Might’s all mine.” Tomura growls. Briefly, they remember that Tomura is actually really smart. The League obeys, their trust in their new leader as they go in for their first battle without All For One.

“Izuku. Go to the back, we’ll handle this.” He says, disintegrating the washi tape Izuku put on his fingers earlier. Briefly, the greenette contemplates disobeying orders because he can handle himself, he’s strong, and he doesn’t have to listen to Tomura, he’s not a League member, but decides against it. They’re coming for him and if they have any proof of him helping the League do something illegal, like fight a hero they can put him in jail. So he goes into his room and listens to the obnoxious shouting of All Might from a tolerable distance, trying to ignore the fact that Aizawa was there and it hurt more than he’d like to admit.

“Young man! Where is All For One? I must defeat him!” All Might screams out, puffing his chest. Aizawa groans as he gets into a defensive position. Of course All Might didn’t want to save Midoriya, he just wanted to fight All For One.

“You’re late. We’ve got a new leader.” Toga pipes up as she charges at Eraserhead who easily evades the attack. All Might looks shocked and disgruntled. He’s not even thinking about the quirkless boy they came for.

“What is the meaning of this? Where is All For One?” The patriotic man demands, despite the fact that his mission was to retrieve Izuku, not kill his rival.

“I killed him.” a quiet voice speaks up. Aizawa’s eyes widen when he sees how close the kid is to the other man’s bad side but can’t as he fends off attacks from the other members while protecting his own precious eyes. But shock runs through him when he sees the lack of hesitance as the young man presses his hand right on top of the injury on All Might’s side and it starts to disintegrate.

In his worry and surprise he blinks, giving the fire-quirked man a chance to burn him. Flames lick the bottom of Eraser Head’s goggles, setting them on fire. He should’ve taken the goggles from Hatsume but he wasn’t sure if they’d be rigged since Izuku left or not.

His capture weapons wraps around the ninja turtle and throws him out of the hole in the wall that All Might made. In the moment of time that gives him he removes the flaming goggles and continues fighting.

But clones keep on charging at him and he can’t erase their quirks in time. He looks over at his mission partner and finds that All Might, like All For One, has greatly underestimated the new leader. In fact, the number one hero’s side is completely gone and he’s beginning to bleed out on the floor, he looks like a different person. A skeleton almost.

But the man who took him down looks disappointed, as if he thought it would be more satisfying and rewarding than that to take down All Might. Right before Aizawa blacks out he hears an order for a medic to patch them up before surrendering to the darkness.

Izuku tiptoes out of his room when the sounds of the fight stop and he sees All Might in a pool of blood. He just nods and gives Tomura a thumbs up. There’s a creepy looking medic patching up the number one hero frantically. Izuku looks at him with distaste. He gets a bad vibe from that medic.

“Why are you healing him anyways?” Izuku sits on a barstool and thanks Kurogiri as he gets handed a can of co*ke.

“I want a proper fight. Plus, he could give us information. The number one hero makes a wonderful hostage as long as we can keep him weak enough.” Tomura reasons. Izuku looks at the scene, takes note of the positioning of each of the heroes and lets himself figure out how they fought and what they could ask for before nodding in approval.

“What about Aizawa?” They all pause, realising who the black haired man is. In an instant their eyes go dark and angry as they begin plotting the most painful ways to kill him once he’s conscious again.

“Wait, he’d make a good hostage too. And I’d like to talk to him. Please?” Izuku grabs Tomura’s hand and begins wrapping it up again as he sees a cup begin to disintegrate. Tomura turns beet red and just nods at him, earning a beaming smile in return and an enthusiastic thanks.

Of course, they want to stay in the room while he talks with them but Izuku begs them to leave him alone with the two because he needs to have a private conversation and if they make sure not to heal All Might or Eraserhead too much they’ll be weak and won’t be able to escape and Izuku is strong.

Eventually the League members relent and make him promise to come get them once he’s done speaking to them so they can play Monopoly before it gets too late and they end up staying awake until dawn like last time.

So Izuku pulls up a chair and sits watching the two pro heroes who just got their asses kicked by two teenagers, one barely adult, and a middle aged man. It’s pathetic really. He studies Aizawa’s face, letting himself calm down and get used to seeing it again as to prevent crying while talking to him. Eventually, Aizawa blearily blinks awake, his eyes sore and bruised, quirk suppressant cuffs around his arms and legs, chained to a chair, and his- the kid in front of him.

It’s heartbreaking.

The way Izuku looks at him so blankly as if they hadn’t made any progress at all. As if he’s a stranger.

“Why?” The greenette asks, staring at him with his jaw clenched in a rare display of something similar to anger.

“I had to. It’s the law. I couldn’t do anythin-” He starts, his reasons beginning to sound pathetic even to his own ears, why did he do it?

“Don’t. We both know that’s a lie. You could’ve done something.” Izuku looks at him with disgust in his eyes and slowly they morph into something else that looks like anger and fear and pure betrayal.

“You don’t believe me, do you?” He asks, voice calm and face blank again. Aizawa wonders how it got this far. How this kid that was quirkless and all he had going for him was his brain, made it here.

“You never said you weren’t exaggerating. You never said you ever talked back to her, or tried to prevent it.” And that’s the reasoning the police gave Aizawa. He knows it’s bullsh*t, tastes like bullsh*t, sounds like bullsh*t. Izuku knows it’s bullsh*t.

“You never asked.” Is all the petite genius says in reply, though he’s got a thousand words on his tongue, he decides to be petty and short and treat Aizawa like one would treat a child because he’s so tired of being that little boy who’s quirkless and helpless.

“Well you look fine to me, no bruises or scars or anything.” All Might pipes up, having just woken up. He winces at the pain in his side and stares angrily at the kid.

Izuku pulls up his long sleeves on his sweaters and shows them the scars from her nails digging into his arms. They both recoil as he shoves the proof in their faces.

“Not all scars are physical.” The freckled teenager says, parroting what Toga preached to him earlier when he said it wasn’t really abuse since she never hit Izuku more than once or twice. Aizawa winces at that.

“You never looked like you were abused or under emotional stress.” Aizawa says when the other looks to him for help. It’s definitely a lie but that’s what the police told him and he knows it’s wrong. The green eyed boy looks at him for a second before sitting back down in his chair.

“She would scream at me and once upon a time I would scream back. But that always made it worse and that always made her make it hurt more. So I went silent and sure, that made it worse too, but at least her words hurt less. I learned, I taught myself how to survive. I wanted to ask why she could pretend she hadn’t said those words to me, if she had forgotten about how she told me I was a useless child when she would change the subject and ask about my day, acting as if nothing had happened when I was still hurt and I was still angry but I wasn’t allowed to be. So I was pleasant and I didn’t ask, I smiled, I played the part, I choked on my words and said nothing. I let those lessons brand themselves in my brain when I was six years old. I carved them into my heart, I burned them onto my soul. I let myself be degraded because that was how I survived.” The boy says blandly, monotone the whole way through. He co*cks his head at the two of them as if asking if it’s enough.

“Izuku, I-” Aizawa says weakly, cursing his existence, not wanting to listen, wanting to cringe away. Izuku won’t let him. Izuku is going to make him listen to every single word because this is his fault and he deserves to know that.

“And then you came and tore it all apart and I was lost because everything I learned was wrong and I didn’t need to survive anymore because you told me I was safe. I trusted you. And I needed you to teach me the new rules, I needed you because I was lost and my world came crashing down around me because of you- but you left. You left me Aizawa. You let me go back to that place where I needed to survive, where I needed those rules, after telling me I would never have to.” And Izuku is angry and betrayed and alone because this man was more than just a stranger or an acquaintance or a friend and now he’s supposed to be nothing more than an enemy and it feels wrong.

“Young man release us, the devil is not forgiving.” All Might says in a deep threatening voice. Izuku looks at him weirdly for a second before bursting out laughing at the fact that All Might thinks he’s religious. The greenette stands directly in front of the number one hero and looks him dead in the eyes.

“I’ve lived in hell my entire life. The devil does not scare me. She’s the one who lives in my brain, reminding me I’m worthless, and unloved. She’s the one who tore apart my heart and controlled my mind. She’s the one who called herself my mother.” The quirkless boy whispers into the blonde’s ear darkly.

Izuku spins on his heel and points at the long haired hero and chuckles lowly as he walks closer to the chair Aizawa is tied to. The boy’s eyes are so incredibly blank, glazed over as he plasters a fake smile onto his freckled face. All of a sudden there’s a shadow looming over him, his face is vacant and unreadable, expressionless. Izuku looks down at him and the underground hero thinks the child looks tired as he stands in front of him making intense eye contact that Aizawa does not dare break.

“But you are the one who smashed my trust and got rid of everything that was left until there was nothing but pain. I was ashamed and alone and I was scared in that house that she told me was a home but felt more like a cell and you got me out and I thought I was free. Until I realised you put me in a cage and I was all alone again. I was compliant and pleasant and loving. Because as long as I did what everyone wanted and expected from me I was safe. You told me you would protect me, you told me I didn’t have to pretend and you lied. You betrayed me.” The green haired teen says in a deceivingly calm voice that trembles slightly as he talks at Aizawa who looks up at him helplessly wondering if this really is all his fault. Izuku turns around, stubbornly looking away from the two.

“You know, when I was really little, I wanted to be a hero. But when I got older all I wanted was to be normal. I don’t want to be a villain. I don’t want to be a hero either.” He wavers slightly, both of the heroes behind don’t dare say a word as Izuku turns around and he’s smiling that small smile that Aizawa can’t ever figure out if it’s real or fake because it’s so genuine looking and shy but he knows that it’s well practiced and all of Izuku’s smiles look real.

“But here, I’m free and I’m not caged and they’re all my friends. Here, I don’t have to fake a smile or pretend to laugh. Here, I am challenged and welcomed. Here, I am neither alone nor crowded. Here, I am normal.” Izuku announces passionately, arms raised, he has a smiling building on his face and it physically pains Aizawa at the implication that he had none of that when he was with the heroes. The smile droops with his arms and his face goes blank again as he looks back down at the two of them with his head co*cked.

“Tell me what I have at UA.” The quirkless boy deadpans. They both search for something that is at UA that he doesn’t have here. They end up coming up with dead ends.

“What are you implying, Midoriya?” Aizawa asks, his voice nervous as if dreading an answer.

“I'm just saying…” Izuku walks towards the door and grabs the handle before looking over his shoulder at the two tied up heroes.

“It wouldn’t be too bad. Being a villain.”

Chapter 17

Chapter Text

“No shut the f*ck up Tomura I don’t give a flying f*ck if your crusty ass is the leader we are not playing Fortnite.” Dabi growls out as Tomura tries to argue his case.

“Bu-” Said crusty ass man tries.

“Animal Crossing!” Toga cheers out. The League all softens slightly at her voice because she’s the youngest member and the only girl and they know she never really wanted to be a villain.

But Dabi is not so weak as to give up too quickly.

“Mario Kart.” He slams down the game on the bar counter and looks at everyone threateningly.

“Just Dance.” Twice pipes up, he gets death glares and a resounding NO from everyone else. Kurogiri pipes up a suggestion for Minecraft that they carefully consider for a few moments.

“C’mon, if we play any strategic or competitive games we just know, we’ll get crushed by ‘Zuku-chan.” The blonde girl pouts out. Grumbles of agreement spill out from everyone else’s lips and Izuku flusters as he attempts to be humble.

And so they all made their own Animal Crossing characters on their ancient, but still somehow functioning, Wii. Naturally, they time traveled to Christmas in order to catch Jingle whom Dabi chased around furiously after not being able to find him for the first half of his hour-long turn playing.

But all great things must come to an end. Kurogiri put his foot down when the clock ticked to 2:30 AM, demanding them to go to bed as he would not stand for another all-nighter like last time when they played Monopoly.

Izuku falls onto his mattress and looks up at the plain ceiling above his bed and feels bored. It’s not enough. But the smile of Toga, and the fondess of Kurogiri, and the sarcastic drawl of Dabi and the odd look in Tomura’s eyes that makes him slightly uncomfortable but is probably just him, show up in his mind and he convinces himself that he’s happy here.

The greenette squirms onto his side with a huff, staring out of the iron grate covered window at the stars that twinkle through grey clouds of smoke and haze. There’s a sliver of moon left, peeking out slightly in a curved glowing crescent.

Flashes of words he said to Aizawa and All Might play through his head on loop like a broken record and he winces, regretting having ever opened his mouth because looking back on it he sounds cringey and he said too much. It was dumb. He’s supposed to be a genius, one of the smartest people in the world but how is that supposed to be true if he keeps making silly mistakes like talking about his feelings?

There’s a mix of feelings swirling in his stomach as he continues to stare out at the chilly night sky that slowly disappears as humans dump their waste out onto the Earth that gave them life without care. Sadness, Happiness, Contentness, something warm and precious is there too. But he dreads that familiar sensation of being numb, functioning like a robot and feeling like a zombie or a bird in a cage. Living iwthout free will, trapped, with a head empty of all thoughts.

It creeps up into his throat and right now it’s just a trickle, a warning of what is to come. But Izuku can feel the phantom pressure around his neck and feels like it’s choking him. He’s fine. The League is enough. He’s happy here. Right?

Soft from the wearing after years of use, he wraps his blanket around him and it’s hot and sweaty and the air is heavy, but if he shuts his eyes tighter maybe he’ll be able to sleep for once. Maybe he can ignore the haunting presence he can feel hovering outside of his door hesitantly before walking away. So he breathes slowly and stays as still as he can, covering his ears with his pillows because maybe that will make his thoughts quieter, and maybe he can ignore the scuttling scratches of a mouse trapped inside of the wall next to his head.

And Izuku falls.

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The world is bright and vivid and more colourful than Izuku ever thought possible. He’s sitting on a soft and luxurious carpet that he doesn’t recognise. Then again, Izuku doesn’t remember much from his childhood.

He hears his mother cooing from far away. She’s cheering for him in a sing-song voice, it feels nice and new and a determination he didn’t know he had rises up in him. So he stands up, looking around at the vivid room around him. But the thing is that, it’s so much harder than he remembers.

The moment Izuku stands up on shaky legs and glances up, she’s there, smiling with surprise and pride on her face, pure happiness and bliss. And he doesn’t really understand anything she’s saying but he basks in the caring arms and warm kisses that smother him lovingly as a young, pleasant voice sings out praise and tickles him until he’s a giggling mess.

He turns around to hug his mother and snuggle into her chest but as soon as he looks the other way all he can see is the white of a doctor’ office. There’s an All Might figurine in his lap and even the bright colours of his previous idol’s action figure looks grey compared to just a second ago.

A lukewarm hand rubs his back reassuringly and he gulps in dread despite not really knowing exactly where he is because this is a dream and he’s not supposed to recognise where he is anyways. He finds himself scrunching up his pants with tight fists and refusing to look anywhere but down as a door slams and a man with a blurred out face sits in front of him, clipboard held in his hands.

The doctor opens his mouth and instead of a normal sound it comes out all distorted and muffled as if trying to fill in blanks in a memory. Izuku looks up at the blurry man and reads his lips as a high pitched ringing starts and the warped voice grows even more incomprehensible and sounds as if it’s coming from miles away even though the man is sitting directly in front of him. He sees the way the doctor’s mouth forms a word he could never forget no matter how loud the ringing in his ears grows.

‘Quirkless’

A thick sheen of tears glaze over his eyes and the comforting hand that has been rubbing his back gently this whole time, grips his shoulder and squeezes it tight. Izuku blinks and the tears drip off of his bottom eyelashes, down his eyelashes then onto the ground.

He’s in the front seat of her red car, hunched over in a futile attempt to make himself look smaller as she screams in his ear, spittle flying everywhere. Inko leans to the side, closer to him and just yells out in a deep, utterly terrifying voice that goes hoarse as she shakes in anger. His mother lurches and writhes, jumping her seat and slamming her hands on the steering wheel as she drives at high speed down the empty road.

Izuku stares at the trees that line the street blankly, trying his best not to let a tear escape. Suddenly the forest green doesn’t grow closer, and he’s standing. The quirkless boy turns around and there’s a red car speeding towards him. Through the windshield he sees a furious woman and a sobbing child.

They say when you die, your life flashes before your eyes.

A car horn sounds out and Izuku faces his death with welcoming arms as the loud alarm blares from the speeding vehicle and it starts to swerve precariously.

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A long, drawn out beep startles him awake and he soothes his rapidly beating heart breathlessly. Soon enough the noises of angry traffic from the road outside of his room quiet down as the stoplight turns green and the comforting vroom of engines replaces it.

Izuku bolts up, sitting ramrod straight as he looks around frantically, the horn seeming much louder and closer than it was. He pulls his hands through his hair, letting the tight curls flatten as he runs his fingers through them before they bounce back into their usual unruly mess.

He’s going crazy here.

Where does he belong?

Nothing feels right.

Nothing is enough

There’s a small shopping bag next to the foot of his bed and he smiles at the darkened, dusty hole in the handle that no doubt came from a slip up on Tomura’s part. Inside the rustling, thin plastic is a tanktop, shorts, sweatpants, a sweatshirt, socks and the other essentials. He smiles in relief at not having to wear Toga’s clothes anymore. Not that he minds, it’s just that he feels a bit bad taking her outfits without giving anything in return.

The greenette slips on the tanktop and sweatpants, still a bit chilly from the lack of true heating in the building, but adequately warm from Dabi’s half assed attempt at keeping the incinerator they use to dispose of bodies, constantly running at the request of Tomura and two thousand yen from Kurogiri every other week.

He stumbles into the main room sleepily, eyes blinking heavily. Kurogiri greets him with stiff politeness and Izuku wonders how the warp-quirked man isn’t ever tired. They squawk at each other as they engage in a scuffle when the freckled boy requests to remove the wooden boards from the window so they might watch the sunrise.

It’s so early, in fact, that they are the only two up. Izuku downs a second mug of iced coffee with vigor. Everyday the sun rises earlier and earlier. But it’s still quite late compared to the daylight hours of summer. Outside it is a dusty, dull grey that glows a slight yellow as the clouds slowly turn pink and the sky a reluctant periwinkle.

But it’s when the sun is just below the horizon and the internet says it will rise in ten minutes that Tomura trudges in with a withering glare and a groggy frown plastered onto his lips, that Izuku mentions the windows. As the red eyed man sips on his mug of caffeinated black tea with droopy eyes, the green eyed boy asks if he can remove the boards.

Instead of giving him a verbal answer, Tomura just stands up with a groan, moving his shoulders around and cracking his fingers while walking out of the room and down the hall. Izuku follows, not really sure if that’s what he’s supposed to do, but it feels right.

It’s dark back here, the sole window on the dark side of the building, showing the frigid and dirty streets of the bad side of Musutafu. The short genius opens his mouth to ask what the elder is doing, annoyed that he can’t watch the sunrise which is going to happen any minute now.

But the leader of the League of villains tips his head back and downs the rest of his tea with a satisfied sigh before he disintegrates the handle accidentally and curses. The ex management student chuckles into his hand, earning a scornful glare from the dry skinned man that doesn’t really have the effect he wants it to when there’s a playful smirk on his face.

Tomura pulls open the window with a grunt and Izuku shivers as a gust of cold, January air coats his body. The other man is leaning out of the window, fondling the brick of the building as if looking for something. But after a second of waiting, Tomura yanks down a ladder that screeches painfully, groaning at the sudden movement. It’s covered in rust and it’s made of iron that’s barely bolted to the brick, coming loose in several places.

So without much thought, the long haired man places a hand on the nearest rung, careful to keep his pinky lifted, and hauls himself out of the window pane and onto the unstable, rickety ladder that’s at least ten feet off of the ground and maybe a fall from that height wont hurt someone like Tomura, but still.

Izuku waits until the blue haired villain reaches the top and he hears the telltale tapping of shoes on concrete. He swings himself out, closing the window until there’s just a small crack open, and climbing up the ladder that is so cold that it hurts, with the brick behind it that is just as freezing, lets his head rise over the top of the building.

In front of him, the top priority villain, Shigaraki Tomura is sitting on the edge, legs swinging precariously over the edge, eyes soft and dazed from sleepiness. Midoriya Izuku, 15 year old quirkless boy, wanted for stabbing his mother and associating with the Leage of Villains, plops down next to him and watches as the clouds glow a vibrant orange, and the sky fades from a rosy pink and purple and orange to a pale blue and the dark clouds turn white.

Shigaraki stares at the younger teenager and admires everything about the boy, feeling the emotion that drove him to kill his sensei thrum through his body excitedly.

They bask in the morning warmth that accompanies dawn. Izuku leans his head on Tomura’s shoulder, letting himself relax for the first time in months. After some time passes, the screech of the window pane rings in their ears and a drowsy Toga joins them, squishing herself between the two boys, making the greenete smile softly as affection thrums through his body when Kurogiri warps a fuzzy blanket on top of the three.

Of course, a reluctant Dabi comes up and sits next to Tomura, lightening the mood by talking about the training they’ll be doing today and his everpresent sarcasm bleeding through occasionally.

When the sun is high in the sky, and the steaming mugs of coffee have long gone cold, Twice and Kurogiri goes up to the roof and finds them all asleep in a big pile. Toga and Izuku curled around each other protectively, Tomura’s taped fingers continue to thread through green curls as he huffs out slow, long unconscious breaths of cool winter air. Dabi leans up against Tomura’s back using the ledge as a footrest as Toga smushes her cheek onto his leg, drooling slightly.

By the time the freckled genius blearily blinks open his eyes, Twice is lying next to Toga, who smiles contentedly with droopy eyelids as they watch the clouds. Kurogiri is sparring with Dabi, who continues to get frustrated when his fire is warped back at him. And Tomura is staring at Izuku.

The green eyed teenager shifts uncomfortably under the older man’s gaze. There it is again. That intense, unfamiliar, terrifying look in Tomura’s red eyes. Izuku looks away, brows furrowed as he feels a sense of dread and foreboding rising up. He sits up and gets a sarcastic ‘good afternoon.’ from Dabi which he returns with a cheeky smile.

But that terrifying feeling of nervousness and guilt continues to plague him as the day progresses and Kurogiri warps them to the warehouse where they stretch and chat easily as their feet tap on the concrete floor while warming up. The blue haired man looks at the small greenette with a softness that isn’t present with anyone else and it makes him feel small and awkward.

Izuku hates it.

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The sky is dark, a dim grey circle that’s barely there replacing the bright moon that typical lights up the sky. For a while, Izuku just looks at the stars, competing with Toga to see who can name more constellations. And the roof is freezing but at the same time, the frosty January air floats through his hair and runs over his face, as if caressing him lovingly.

Twice is the first one to go, saying he can’t see the stars too well through his mask. The grenette waves him off with a smile, and pulls his knees up to his chest, content with watching his breath turn into puffs of white fog that disappear into the night.

The scarlet eyed man fiddles with the tape on his fourth and pinky finger idly.

He stumbles backwards and gets dangerously close to the edge of the rooftop. The green haired boy grabs his hand and squeezes it reassuringly as he pulls him back up.

There’s confusion and something hard in the younger’s eyes as he lets go of his hand and the quirked man grabs it tight and they stand and stare at each other for what feels like hours as the stars burn out one by one and the impossibly dark blue sky fades into a lavender. And he’s so caught up in the moment that he steps towards the greenette and cups the freckled cheeks in his taped hands gingerly as if he might break him if he’s not careful.

And places his lips against Izuku’s.

He deepens the kiss, and moves his hands around the younger’s shoulders, pulling him closer as heavy panting fills his ears and white fog from their hot breath clouds the clear night air, warmth flushing both of their cheeks in the cold night. It’s maybe a bit offputting that the greenette isn’t moving one bit, has gone completely rigid, and isn’t hugging him back but the quirked man shrugs it off as he finishes off the kiss.

Tomura pulls back, looking at the face of the boy he’s in love with and realises with a sinking feeling that the heavy breathing was only him.

Izuku’s eyes were perfectly calm.

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“I’m in love with you.” The blue haired man blurts out, desperate for any confirmation or possibility that his sensei was wrong, that Izuku does love him.

The greenette feels as if choking or drowning as he hears the confession. The air is awkward as Izuku bows in apology, telling the other he doesn’t experience romantic attraction. Because he loves Tomura, he really does.

As a friend.

Izuku walks down the hallway,t he memories of the confession play on a loop in his mind as he slows his steps slightly, hugging himself because he’s still cold though it’s been hours since he was up on the roof with the man he thinks of as a brother. His best friend. Partners in crime. A safe space.

And mourns.

Why couldn’t he just be normal? Why couldn’t he just love Tomura back like Tomura loves him? Why did this happen to him? Is it his fault?

The sickening feeling of guilt weighs him down and Izuku thinks he deserves it. He feels as if he’s sinking into the ground with every step, disappearing from this world. So close to death, as if just about to touch it, but still so far away.

The boy smarter than even Nedzu gags, choking up nothing as if repulsed by the thought of himself, dry heaving because he feels like throwing up whenever he even thinks of the other man and guilt and sorrow fill him to the brim.

Why was it that in that moment he couldn’t think? Why did he just freeze up? Why didn’t he push the older man away when he kissed him? Why didn’t his brain work the one f*cking time he needed it to?

Izuku crawls into his bed and curls up into a ball, rocking back and forth as he allows himself to sob quietly, tears hot and sticky on his face, wetting his pillow and the hem of his blanket.

“I’m sorry. I’m so so sorry. Please forgive me. I’m sorry I’m not normal. I wish I was normal. I wish I could love you. I do love you- but I-I- don’t. Not like that. Please please please. I’m sorry. I’m sorry Tomura. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” He continues to rock himself as his fingernails dig into his arms, drawing blood. In the back of his mind, he can hear a memory of Inko crying fake tears as she screams at him with fabricated hurt in her voice. This is exactly how he reacted when he was little. When she told him it was his fault he was hurt. When she told him she would kill herself because of him.

When she would tell him he didn’t love her.

Izuku runs out of tears. It takes a long time and his pillow is soaked and the damp blanket is cold and slightly gross because he’s wiped his face on there a few times now. But the sun is rising and the birds are chirping as if it’s any normal happy day. The traffic thrums on the street below and it doesn’t feel right for it to be such a beautiful and happy day.

His limbs seem to creak and his eyes grow gradually more and more dry as they begin to feel like lead and he lets himself fall down onto the bed and tries to push down the guilt about rejecting his friend, for not being able to love him, for losing a friend, for staying here after he hurt him so badly.

Izuku lets himself fall into a light sleep that leads him to a nightmare. He’s being chased. It’s different from the past dreams he’s been having. Not as realistic. More rushed. But he deserves this. And besides.

Anywhere is better than the real world right now.

Tomura sits on the ledge of the roof, regarding the disgusting pavement below.

“I’m sorry Tomura. I- I- I’m so sorry. I just- ah, I’m sorry. I don’t-” The clear, young voice of Midoriya Izuku plagues his mind. The stuttering apology that hurt more than a straight out rejection would’ve because at least that would’ve meant that he wasn’t upset or sad or guilty. It’s not like it’s Izuku’s fault that he’s in love with him.

God he’s disgusting. He hates himself. Pasty tan hands scratch at an already raw and bleeding neck because it’s not as if he can disappoint Izuku even more than he had already.

There’s a flash of green right before his eyes and Tomura curses. The dull green eyes that had the stars reflected in them with a blank sort of happiness, content for once. They weren’t bright or sparkling like they had been when he’d first met the boy. But it was the closest they’d been in months.

He ruined it.

The resignation, longing, and sorrow that stared at him pitifully and regretfully as he’d confessed was something the villain never wanted to see in the younger’s eyes ever again.

Because yeah. He’s upset and embarrassed and angry at himself, and doesn’t really want to see the teenager for a long time. But something else is bothering him more.

It’s still there.

That little spark of happiness and warmth that has kept him company for the past five months. The way his heart still beats a bit harder and faster when he sees those green curls bob into view and excitement can’t help but bloom in his chest as a genuine smile spreads on his face.

It’s been keeping him sane, that little spark. Something stable to latch onto like a lifeline. He lets himself cry. He’s so so stupid. Once again, Tomura knows he's done more harm than good. He hurt someone precious to him. Someone who loved him even after seeing how horrible he is. He ruined that. The flutters in his chest have always been wrong and he knew that but he let himself feel hope because the flutters have made him weak and soft when it comes to a certain boy.

He killed his sensei for Izuku.

Why doesn’t Izuku love him back?

Why is it still here?

Why is that little spark still here?

It’s supposed to be gone.

Tomura feels the sun hit his cheeks as it peeks in between tall buildings in the rich districts but it doesn’t feel warm. Nothing feels as warm as Izuku. Nothing can comfort him like that little tickle in his chest and the throb of his heart. And deny it as he might, something makes him long for the mere presence of the quirkless teenager.

And he thought he got rid of it, letting the words he cherished almost as much as the boy they were meant for tumble out carelessly. Leaving his sould empty and chest hollow as the rejection seemed to pierce through his heart.

Yet still, his cheeks flush slightly cheerily and he feels lighter when he thinks of Izuku.

Birds chirp happily and the sun rises as if it’s a normal day. It feels wrong.

It’s a tragic morning and it should be anything but normal. It should be miserable and disgusting, not sunny and bright and joyful. He deserves a bad day because it’s still there and it shouldn’t be.

Tomura observes the pavement below him thoughtfully, but leans back and lets the warm concrete comfort him as he closes his eyes to hide from the bright sun. The tape on his fingers is beginning to peel off and lose it’s stickiness. Tomura touches it with his other hand and watches it disintegrate and float away in small grey speckles, looking far too much like ashes for it to be a coincidence.

Why is he still in love with Izuku?

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Toga won’t look him in the eyes. Nobody will. They don’t really acknowledge his existence. And he doesn’t really attempt to interact with them so maybe it hurts less but still it stings when he sits next to Dabi and the scarred man immediately stands up and leaves the room.

The regret and hesitance in Toga’s scarlet eyes is a bit comforting. She’s clearly torn between leaving and staying. Though the blood quirked girl is impressively loyal to her leader who has proved himself to be trustworthy and safe and good, Izuku is her friend and she promised.

Her choice is made for her though, when Twice ushers the blonde out of the room and she goes with him with little resistance, shoulders slumping in relief at being told what to do. But the girl walks like a robot, or a puppet, as if ordered to move. Maybe that’s here way of coping.

So Izuku’s left alone with Tomura’s right hand man. Kurogiri doesn’t slide him a coffee or Shirley Temple like usual but he was expecting this. The petite genius tries to restrain his brain because it’s rude to analyse your friends in depth like it’s so used to doing.

He hesitates.

Are they still really his friends?

As the day progresses he can feel the trust and dependence he once put in them fading away bit by bit until it’s almost the same as the trust he has for the heroes. It’s still higher because technically they haven’t done anything but still.

The greenette listens to his sneakers tapping on the creaky hardwood and doesn’t bother to turn on a light, letting himself struggle to walk through the darkness of dusk and fondle for that familiar door handle.

Aizawa sits up, he’s sporting a black eye and All Might is deflated and looks depressed. Izuku doesn’t bat an eye and instead pulls up a chair and sits in front of the two heroes.

It’s quiet for a second. Izuku stares at the ground, smile fading off of his face. Then the boy looks back up, raising his head and grinning at them. And he’s crying. Tears sparkling down his cheeks in thick droplets as he continues to smile sweetly. But it’s disconcerting to see the way the boy’s face doesn’t turn red or puffy, his nose doesn’t run, and he’s silent as he sobs with a smile on his face.

“So tell me. What do I do?” And of course, when he says it, nothing sounds wrong. If there wasn’t water streaming down his face they would never know. But it also sounds forced and desperate and sad and broken. Because this is a child torn between people he loves that he knows aren’t good and people he used to love that are supposed to be good.

Before either of them can say anything (not that All Might would say something worthwhile anyways) Izuku is walking out of the room with his head hanging low.

There’s a crash and a thump of shoes as a short figure swings into the room through the only window in the house that isn’t fitted with bulletproof glass and he told Tomura it was dumb to put them in here but was dismissed as being a worrywort.

The silhouette is wearing a bulky dark grey hoodie and black athletic pants, a box cutter in his hand and an unfortunately familiar black mass protruding from a medium sized hole in the hoodie.

A troublesome vigilante that has recently ceased all activity suspiciously in sync with when UA started. Izuku had been asked to solve the case by the police and Nedzu many months ago. He had known who it was the moment he read the file.

Dust slips the hood of his grey sweatshirt down and the black spikey feathers and yellow beak of a boy that used to be his friend are revealed to the silent room. The greenette tracks back into the small closet space they’ve kept the two heroes in and closes the door quietly.

Tokoyami.

Brown eyes light up as he sees his friend who has been missing for a long time. There’s no doubt in the student’s mind that Izuku was captured and isn’t here of his own free will as he walks towards the little genius.

Izuku doesn’t move a muscle, brain going a thousand miles a minute as he tries to figure out what the hell he’s supposed to do in this situation. He doesn’t want to stay with the villains anymore and soon enough he’s going to be hiding for real. Somewhere nobody will be able to find him because this time he’s actually going to try. A millon ideas flood through his head because he’s going to be helpless if Tokoyami releases both of the heroes. But there’s one thought in his brain that clears through the others and maybe it’s naive to want to be neutral but one thing’s for sure.

He can’t go back.

“C’mon Midoriya, we have to-” Tokoyami grabs onto Izuku’s brown sweater, pulling him over to the two heroes. The curly haired boy looks at his ex friend with pity. He had known since the beginning that the bird headed student was the vigilante and had hoped it wouldn’t come to this.

Izuku pulls away from the other boy’s grip and steps back, against the wall, his gaze hard. He won’t interfere but he won’t help either. Tokoyami gets a dawning look of understanding and his face morphs into rage and betrayal, an expression Izuku himself is painfully familiar with.

“What the f*ck are you doing? You’re f*cking villain, Izuku? What happened? Why didn’t you tell me-” The shadow looms over his shoulder threateningly, growing larger and darker as Fumikage grows more and more emotional. Aizawa looks almost frantic as he tries to calm his student down.

Dust lunges at the greenette who dodges with ease, wanting to taunt the boy who he taught this combat style to with care not more than a month ago. All Might wobbles weakly, puffing up into his enhanced form and running at Izuku with a raised fist. Dimly, the little genius’ brain register’s Aizawa’s pained and urgent screaming at the number one hero to stop.

But the little quirkless boy just slips out of the way and trips the large man, jabbing at a pressure point on his ex friends neck with a regretful expression that seeps out sorrow, as he mouths a ‘sorry’ that the other boy doesn’t quite catch as his left arm goes limp and his world begins to spin. The freckled civilian blocks all of the weak, clumsy hits the shadow throws at him, having many chances to counterattack but choosing not to.

He’s so occupied trying not to let go and hurt his friend but still not get caught that he doesn’t notice All Might coughing out blood and kneeling as he tries to get up. It makes the greenette annoyed that they’re too occupied with capturing him instead of freeing Aizawa, like they should. Sure the erasure hero might’ve told them not to worry about him, but is this really necessary?

A rock hard fist grazes the fifteen year old’s arm and leaves a blistered, bleeding gash that starts to swell and turn purple as the bones shatter. Tokoyami and Aizawa both wince with sympathy at how painful it looks before pausing at the lack of reaction they get from the boy.

Izuku barely even blinks before using his opposite elbow to smash in the number one hero’s face and stand in a defensive position, moving with perfect efficiency, only attacking in self defense and making sure it doesn’t hurt too bad (well, he doesn’t really care about hurting the blonde, but…)

There’s still the issue that no matter how good he is at hand to hand combat. Izuku is still quirkless. Useless. Still, he tries his best. Landing several hits on Tokoyami and hitting his quirk pressure point in his shoulder just hard enough to make Dark Shadow retract for a bit instead of indefinitely, making sure to make it as painless as possible when he elbows the bird headed boy in the neck. All Might swings his fist at him, screaming out his attack dumbly. So Izuku dodges and grabs the arm, flipping him over and kneeing him in his side, right where the injury from All For One is.

But the petite genius is starting to slow down slightly, freckled cheeks flushed as he pants, less injured than both Tokoyami and Toshinori, who have injuries from this fight and breaking into the room. Izuku, who has been using energy restraining himself and using more draining techniques in order to not maim anybody in the room severly, while his brain is running into overdrive as he plans his friend’s escape, is more exhausted than he’s ever been after this two on one.

His knees wobble and his arm throbs. Izuku’s tongue hangs out slightly as the battle lulls slightly before Tokoyami and Dark Shadow launch onto him, both using hand to hand combat, a skill Izuku had advised him would be helpful in his analysis. It’s working well against him. He’s proud of the boy.

After kicking Fumikage with the flat, foam sole of his red sneaker, he feels All Might behind him and though he may get a jab against the man’s pressure point, Dark Shadow grabs his wrist and the number one hero pulls him into a chokehold.

They take out a bandage looking cloth, and with a sinking feeling Izuku realises it’s Aizawa’s capture tape and wonders if the universe is playing a joke on him as he bites Dark Shadow’s oddly solid appendages and jerks forward, flipping All Might onto the ground, and nearly breaking his own neck in the act.

Izuku collapses onto the ground, holding onto his neck and arm that is beginning to make him feel lightheaded from blood loss. Why have they come now? When he doesn’t need them anymore? Why didn’t they come when he needed them to save him? Why didn’t they come when he was a child who believed in God, begged for All Might to save him, and soon realised it was never going to happen?

Yagi Toshinori’s eyes blaze a bright blue that radiates killing intent and Izuku smiles weakly at him, wondering if this is how the number one hero treats a quirkless child he was told to save.

The blonde man aims a punch at the collapsing form of what used to be the pride of UA, the darling student of Nedzu himself. Tokoyami throws the capture weapon towards the boy who he used to consider a friend as Aizawa whispers instructions in his ear, trying to ignore the way his colleague is about to kill his kid.

Izuku closes his eyes and wonders if this is how he’ll die. He coughs weakly and blood spurts out of his nose. His vision goes dark and the young boy lets his back meet the concrete floor as a pale blue form pushes him out of the way with speed that couldn’t be matched by anyone other than-

Tomura’s body moved without thinking.

Chapter 18

Chapter Text

Izuku blinks once, then twice, before snapping up into a sitting position and looking around the room. He’s on the old, raggedy couch that smells a bit too much like blood and reeks of watered alcohol, and there are five pairs of eyes trained on him.

But there’s only one thing on his mind, he turns to the left and meets a blank, scarred face that might be terrifying to the average person but Izuku, despite wanting nothing but to be normal, is not.

“Tomura-” He starts, frantic, not even paying attention to how he’s opened the stitches on his arm and is now spurting blood.

“Captured by the heroes, and to our knowledge, alive.” Kurogiri butts in, not giving Dabi the chance to say a word. The atmosphere is tense and Izuku realises that Aizawa is tied up in the chair and he’s still here.

“What happened?” The greenette asks, turning to the bartender who looks more impassive than usual.

Nobody answers him, all of them averting their gazes, but Izuku stays determined, waiting for an answer. He has to know.

“We didn’t see, only person here who knows is that hobo.” Dabi says finally, co*cking his head in the direction of the underground hero who has a black eye that seems to have swelled shut, negating the effects of his quirk.

Izuku nods, not really wanting to interrogate the man he used to trust in front of the villains at this moment when he’s confused and hurt and his head is just so so loud. Guilt floods through his veins and it makes him feel sick to his stomach. He thinks it’s good. He deserves it.

“They’re holding him hostage at UA?” The petite genius confirms, gaining a solemn nod from Twice. He works through all the possible options, analysing the underground hero and the remaining members of the League while running through his memories of UA.

A thought springs into his already bursting head and he spends a few seconds running through the plan that’s slowly weaving itself together, trying to find any possible holes and coming out with very few. He’s a genius after all, famed for being smarter than even Nedzu without having a quirk to rely on. He might as well put it to use when this is most likely all his fault.

It’s a neutral plan made by himself, each side will gain something of equal value. And maybe he’ll suffer and it won’t be what he wants but he’s in debt, he has to do it. This is his fault that Tomura’s been captured, the quirkless boy is sure of it.

“What if we offered them a trade? Hijack the news and show a video of me and EraserHead tied up. All Might and Dust, aka Tokoyami have most likely reported that I’m working with the League but Nedzu thinks I’m a valuable asset and wants to train me so it might work.” Izuku proposes.

“You want us to do a hostage trade?” Kurogiri raises an eyebrow. The greenette nods seriously.

“Me and EraserHead are valuable. Tomura though, is the new leader of the League and very powerful. He beat Donyoku, All Might likely would’ve chosen to take him over the two of us. But even though Tomura for Eraser isn’t necessarily a fair trade, no offense to Aizawa, the both of us might be enough to get Tomura back. Nedzu has a very complex mind and thought process. He has some weird thing about making sure that I am included in UA though that didn’t really work out for him, I can tell he’s got something going for me because I’m smarter than him according to the animal himself.” Izuku explains, waving his hands around and pacing back and forth on the hardwood floors.

Kurogiri, Twice and Dabi seem to be thinking it over, nodding along, thinking about how to get their new leader back with them. But the freckled boy sees Toga out of the corner of his eye with her head hung low, eyes shadowed by her bangs. She’s weirdly unexpressive, it’s worrying.

“Become a villain.” Toga mutters from the corner, her voice low and dangerous. They all turn to her. Aizawa seems to struggle against his restraints slightly, not making much of a fuss quite yet.

“What did you say, Toga?” Izuku asks, dropping the affectionate suffix hesitantly, wanting her to repeat the demand to make sure he hadn’t heard that wrong. The other members turn to her too, watching her with intensity, glancing back at him every other moment.

“Become a villain, Izuku.” She finally raises her head and speaks in a clear, unwavering voice. Her red eyes piercing through him as if examining his soul. It’s off putting to say the least, but Toga’s always had this sort of haunting personality.

The curly haired teenager freezes like a deer caught in headlights. The entire room seems to hold their breath as they stare at him, waiting for a response.

It feels monumental.

Izuku in milliseconds has gone through all of the possibilities for every answer he can give, not really liking any of his choices. But they continue to expect his answer and he knows that it’s unavoidable. All the green eyed civilian has ever wanted to be is normal.

He approaches the request that sounds more like a demand, cautiously. Trying desperately to find a way out and coming up with dead ends every time as the options fly through his brain and quickly disintegrate away with every passing tick of the grandfather clock in the corner of the room.

So he tries to buy time, begging his brain that is so widely revered by the heroes and police to do something worthwhile for once. Why can’t he find a way out? Every conclusion he draws gives him the same results. He has to give her an answer.

“Why?” Izuku asks, mind still racing, pounding and ringing as his head aches and feels heavier with every breath he takes. Toga narrows her eyes at him and he realises they look sad and he could figure out why but for some reason that feels less important right now.

“It’s what Tomura would’ve wanted.” She says simply, gaze sharp and dangerous. It feels weird to be on the receiving end of one. In all honesty, Izuku can’t help but admit that it is a sound theory, though they probably didn’t think about the benefits of him accepting the offer and are instead acting on their loyalty to their captured leader.

If the boy did end up agreeing to become a villain, it would give them an extreme advantage but that would be a payment that would exceed the debt he owes the League. Izuku is, and has always been, and will always try his best to be neutral. He can’t do that if he’s a villain.

But Izuku doesn’t want to be a villain.

Izuku doesn’t want to be a hero.

Izuku wants to live a normal life.

He curses his brain for being so loud all the time and catching the interest of the principal of UA. He curses his mother for making him vulnerable enough to rely on people like Aizawa, Tomura, Toga, and Hatsume. If only, he was average, and unnoticable like he’s always wanted to be.

It doesn’t have to be a necessarily happy life, he just begs, that it please be normal. That his parents are average and boring, and nothing is exciting or surprising. He longs to have a weak quirk and a mind that doesn’t automatically analyse every person within sight.

But instead, Izuku is standing in the middle of a S-ranked villain hideout wanted by the heroes for conspiring with said villains despite not ever doing so, and being offered a spot within the group of anti heroes. He really just had to befriend them. He was right. He’s better off alone. There really was no good reason to trust anyone and he knew that.

“I- I’m sorry. I can’t-” The quirkless boy with dull eyes and a constantly whirring brain says slowly, apologetically, in a quiet voice with his head hung low because at this point he’s just given up.

How can he ever escape?

Izuku doesn’t think he can.

There’s a moment of silence where the mood lowers drastically and the atmosphere grows even more tense. Aizawa sighs in relief. Toga stands up abruptly and walks calmly over to the chair that holds a roped erasure hero.

She whips out a small knife lazily swipes at the black haired man’s face, giving the boy directly in front of her a sad smile when he dashes over to stop the swing of the sharp instrument from injuring the hero with a speed nobody else in the room has the possibility of possessing. He watches her ruby eyes soften in resignation and sorrow and frustration as she shoves the pocket knife back down her shirt and walks back to her barstool.

“See. I knew it.” She says, gesturing to the tied up hostage and the young boy, holding out her hand to a grumbling Twice who slaps a wad of cash into her grasp, though the girl doesn’t look too happy about it.

The teenage genius relaxes his position and wipes at his face when he feels a warm seeping liquid drip down his face, tickling his skin. Aizawa looks at him in shock and Izuku settles his view onto his shoes, cursing himself for reacting so easily.

“Become a villain, Izuku.” She speaks again. It sounds taunting and he wants to cover his ears because it’s so loud and her voice hurts to hear because he thought she was safe. And she doesn’t feel warm and happy and like home anymore.

Nobody does.

They’re all just as cold and terrifying as Inko.

“No.” Izuku says, gritting his teeth and trying his best not to tremble and cry because he doesn’t know what he’d do if he broke just yet. There’s still a way out. There has to be.

He won’t become a villain.

“Do it.” Dabi rises up from his spot on the couch and walks past the shorter with arrogant ease that makes him feel just as useless as everyone always used to say. He thought that it had changed. He had a purpose, he was strong now. Did he make it all up? Why doesn’t anything feel important anymore?

“I can’t- I won’t be a villa-” The greenette raises his head and looks towards the sound of footsteps, ready to apologise and beg for another way. Ask if he can help, how he can make his original plan good enough, how he can be good enough for them, how it can go back to how it used to be. But freezes when he sees the eldest Todoroki standing behind the folding chair the adult he used to trust is bound to with his hand around the hero’s neck.

“Do it.” Toga says again, hopping off the stool and walking past him, stationing herself beside the flame user as Kurogiri and Twice do the same, staring at him with eyes that used to look so bright and cheerful and comforting and safe. Izuku thinks that these people aren’t like that anymore. They aren’t his allies. Just like the heroes. They aren’t on his side.

He has nobody.

“Become a villain, Midoriya.” Kurogiri says in his ever polite voice that he used to tease the elder about endlessly. Twice stares at him and Izuku’s never really liked him because he’s an adult but he thought it would be okay. He was right to never trust adults before. He was wrong to make exceptions.

But looking at Toga and Dabi, children just like he is, people he thought of as friends and precious. People that despite everything, he felt free and happy around. Izuku realises that he made a mistake. He was wrong to trust anyone.

Toga has her knife drawn, pressed against the long haired man’s throat in place of Dabi’s hand, which is now threateningly lifted, moulding a ball of fire. They stare at him, opening their mouths to spit more venomous words that sting more than the curses his own mother used to scream at him.

“And we’ll free Aizawa.” The blonde girl says in an emotionless voice, regretful as if hoping it wouldn’t come to this. The implication of worse happening to the adult he can’t help but still care for despite everything, is clear, hanging in the air above his head like a noose, loose around his neck, ready to lift him up and let everyone watch him struggle to stay alive.

“I- I-” He stutters over his words, a knife presses harder into the thin skin of Aizawa’s neck. Izuku stops himself from reaching a hand out, not wanting to provoke them, and cries out for them to stop.

“Please, let me think about it.” He begs, falling onto his knees and placing his head onto the floor in a formal bow he once used to ask his mother to not hurt him. It never worked before, but it’s all he can do.

“Please, give me a week.” The quirkless child pleas, green eyes staring up at their unforgiving ones. The villains exchange glances, before removing their hold on his ex guardian and looking down at him with disgust. He gains a nod of agreement from Kurogiri and breathes out in relief.

He has until February 3rd.

It’s clear that nobody is very happy with him right now, but he’s got time. He can make a plan. There has to be a way to free Aizawa alive without having to become a villain. But until then, he has to stay here. Though it may not be the best situation for anyone, if he’s trying to play the role of possibly being a villain, he’ll need them to believe it and trust him.

But it’s fairly clear nobody trusts him right now so he’s going to have to stay put and endure. Which is easier said than done. Izuku’s going to have to live one day at a time. He’s going to have to survive. And it’s going to hurt but he has to do it. All he’s ever been doing is surviving and adapting. This is no different than back then. There has to be a way out. This isn’t so bad right? It’s fine.

It’s nothing he hasn’t done before.

Izuku can’t help but think that it hurts more than he thought it would. He’s gotten soft, it’s not that bad. Everything’s fine. And even though that noose feels like it’s tightening around his neck with every minute, it has to be enough. He has to be enough. He has to survive. There’s no other option.

Their accusing, betrayed glares, full of resentment and pain fall on him, scrutinizing his every move. He can feel them judging them, hear their whispers when his back is turned. His friends, his family, his freedom seem to fade away into the distance with every passing second spent in this place.

It starts to feel like it did with the heroes.

It starts to feel like a cage.

Toga looks at him with something akin to guilt swimming in her eyes but Izuku looks beneath it and tries not to cry when he sees the hatred lingering behind her scarlet gze that reminds him so much of Tomura’s. His best friend, his precious person, his home. She hates him.

Izuku feels like he’s slipping away.

He can hear the ticking of a clock, like a timer, waiting for no one, ready to ring at any second.

Izuku is running out of time.

That empty feeling fills him again, he tries not to meet their eyes, tries to hang his head low and hunch his back as if he could make himself smaller. The bar doesn’t feel warm or safe anymore. The villains don’t feel like home.

It hurts.

The television blares news unforgivingly. He sees his face on the corner of the screen, a wanted banner hanging beneath it. And he’s just like the villains now, nothing normal about him, but for some reason it makes him feel even more distant than before.

He knows it’s his fault. He’s the reason their first leader is dead, he’s the reason their second is captured and close to the same fate. He would blame himself too. Did he betray them?

A screeching woman flashes on the screen. It’s his mother. Izuku looks up at her and can’t seem to feel anything. Eyes litter his back. They feel like pins and needles. So Izuku runs away, retreats into his room and shuts the door.

The quirkless fifteen year old collapses onto the floor without much warning. He doesn’t cry, doesn’t make a noise, doesn’t move a muscle. He just lies in a limp heap on the ground and wonders how he got here when all he’s ever wanted to be was normal.

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He’s falling.

The air is cold and the icy wind whips through his hair as he goes lower and lower and he’s surrounded by nothingness. It’s terrifying to fall into nothingness but at least he’s free.

Izuku is falling.

He thinks it feels nice.

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Izuku wakes up and he’s cold. It’s the kind of achingly deep iciness that makes your skin cool to the touch and no matter how much you bundle yourself up, it’s never going to go away.

It’s quiet in the hideout. And it’s unnatural and unwelcome and everything seems so empty now. It’s his fault. Nothing feels real anymore. He was dumb to think he’d ever be free.

And the sky is a shade of dull purple that looks more like grey to him. He tries to push away the memories of sitting on the roof happy, sleepy, warm, and free while they laughed and trusted each other and everything felt real.

But he stands up, ignoring the aching stabs that run through his body and he feels like he’s starting to rot, decompose, break apart and fade away. The hardwood floor he must’ve fallen asleep on is warm from his body heat and it feels nice on his feet.

The sleep deprived child wants to fall back on the ground and nuzzle the warm floor because it’s been so long since anyone’s touched him and it’s felt warm. He hugs a pillow in his arms and smushes his face into it, just standing there for a little bit. It’s going to have to do.

There’s a quiet thump everytime Izuku places his foot on the ground as quietly as he can and latches his door shut, wincing when it clicks loudly. Wooden boards creak under his weight and he heads down the hallway into the backroom where the floor is concrete and nobody has bothered to clean up the dried blood from when the number one hero and his ‘best friend’ beat him up to the point where he thought he was going to die.

The bar doesn’t smell like coffee and even though it’s well before dawn, Izuku can’t help but know that Tomura would’ve been up by now, sipping on his cup of tea and smiling warmly at him with drooping eyes shadowed by dark bags from the result of sleeping so little. They were just beginning to fade when this happened.

So he continues to walk past the bar that echoes with the laughter of nights when everything was good and real and he was free and tries his best to ignore it. A cold, brass door knob attached to a heavy white, iron door that has speckles of white flakes scattered beneath it from chipped paint greets him.

Memories of that day fog his senses but he tries to shake them away and places a shaky, hesitant hand on the handle, taking a deep breath before jerking it to the side and hearing a loud click and a thump from the other side.

Aizawa is sitting in the folding chair, a slightly ruffled expression on his face and the sole window cracked open slightly. Izuku sighs inwardly, wondering why the League would keep the window unlocked when they clearly saw what happened last time. Hopefully it’s not Tokoyami and All Might again though, he’s really in no position to be fighting today.

A small red feather catches his eye and he shifts into a defensive position, angling his body towards the window and trying not to show that he’s seen the bright speck in the crook of the chair. Though it’s not very hard to tell that someone’s been here. Judging by the way Aizawa’s ropes are significantly looser and the knot is tied up in a messy bow, the whooshing noises outside that sound a lot like flapping wings, along with the window and the telltale feather, the number three hero should be just beyond the brick wall.

“You can come on out Hawks.” The petite genius sighs. He eyes the black haired hero warily, not quite comfortable with his presence after their last two interactions.

A sheepish blonde wiggles through the window, pressing his impressive wings to his back as he gracefully faceplants on the concrete floor. He lifts his head and gives the younger a wide, shameless smile before using his wings to bring him back to his feet.

“Yo. Long time no see Midoriya.” The young man salutes the boy who nods in return, cautious of the seemingly at ease hero. The tension in the room seems to evaporate when the red winged man slaps the shorter’s back in a friendly manner, smiling fondly at him.

Izuku doesn’t miss the way Hawks’ eyes sharpen and keenly observe the situation, wavering slightly when his gaze lingers on the greenette for too long. Honestly, it’s just too easy. The number three hero is extremely clever and has the instincts of a bird of prey and it seems he’s threatened by the quirkless boy in front of him.

“Ease up kid!” He laughs out. Izuku stays cautious, relaxing his stance slightly and slipping a lazy grin on his face to match the other’s.

“What are you doing here, Keigo?” He slips in the man’s real name, deciding to forgo all formalities and just say his given name. Aizawa keeps his mouth shut and doesn’t make a peep. The freckled boy analyses the new addition with a swiftness that only comes with constant practice.

“I could say the same to you.” If he were anyone else, Izuku would’ve laughed at that snarky throwback from the other. A smart move indeed, choosing not to answer the question and instead pry for information without making it obvious. However, that line is quite overused and frankly Izuku is bored.

“You’re here as a spy. Originally you were working with Dabi who was making sure you were safe enough to show to the rest of the members but then I show up here and Tomura gets captured and you’re out of the loop. So you go to the other source of information.” Izuku gestures to a tied up Aizawa before continuing, “But you can’t take him because the information is important and then the villains would never ever trust you. Is that correct?”

Hawks ruffles his wings in an attempt to look larger and more threatening. The little teenager he knows is kindhearted looks up at him with dull, bored eyes that are so different from the ones he saw just a few months ago. He’s not sure what happened to Izuku, but something has changed within him.

Does the boy still read to children in that park? Why didn’t he check on him? Were they not friends? Why was he so absent? Could he have prevented this? Aizawa said he doesn’t trust adults, is he an adult? Does he trust anyone anymore? He’s a hero goddammit, isn’t he supposed to protect people?

“Hawks.” Izuku suddenly starts, snapping the winged man out of his trance. He stands up a bit straighter and looks down at the child in front of him, trying not to think about how he’s failed and how he can’t help him anymore because this is a wanted criminal in the eyes of the government.

“Yes? Are you going to fight me? In your condition I’m not sure that’s wise, no matter how strong you are in hand to hand combat.” Keigo gets in a fighting stance, swallowing nervously. He really doesn’t want to fight the kid. First of all, Izuku doesn’t deserve any of this and he really doesn’t want to hurt him. But it’s also the fact that he knows that the quirkless teenager could easily beat him even injured as he is now. And no amount of training is going to change that.

He’s a mere mortal compared to the intellect of Midoriya Izuku.

“No. In fact, I don’t want to fight anyone. I’m currently neutral ground and have always tried to be. The only reason I fought with Tokoyami and Toshinori is because they attacked me first. I only ever acted in self defense and if I did ever hit them I made sure to blunt it and make it hurt as little as possible. It was difficult but I really don’t want to hurt anyone. I promise.” Green eyes meet golden brown earnestly. There’s a shift in the air when he turns towards the erasure hero who’s still bound to the chair for confirmation.

Eraserhead nods honestly, regretful and ashamed and shocked upon realising exactly what the boy was doing. How had he not noticed? He helped them hurt Izuku when Izuku never wanted to hurt anyone. In the dim light of dawn from the small window in the corner of the room, Aizawa truly looks at the boy. He’s a genius. They’ve known that for a long time. How long have they disregarded this? It must be hard being all alone at the top.

“Why are you with the villains then?” The birdlike man asks, bold in asking questions where Aizawa is meek, though both feel at fault for the situation they are in currently. Aizawa knows he doesn’t deserve to demand answers.

Izuku clenches his jaw at that, it’s clearly accusatory and has the purpose of drawing out copious amounts of information as it’s quite the loaded question. How can he answer this without saying too much and not benefiting either side? He doesn’t want to throw Aizawa under the bus but he needs to make sure he can hide enough to keep himself safe.

“I didn’t have anywhere else to go. They were my friends. However, never once have I helped them or conspired against the heroes. I am not a villain.” Izuku says confidently. Not yet at least. He’s not really quite sure if he’s still friends with the League, but all of his results are coming up with negative responses so they must not be. The heroes aren’t his friends either.

He really doesn’t have anyone, does he?

“You stabbed your mother.” The accusation slips out from the blonde’s lips and he immediately regrets it. Izuku’s eyes harden and grow even more hauntingly empty than before. His carefully trained blank face that nobody can ever read slips back on and it’s just as unsettling as it was the first time he saw it.

“I did.” A nod confirms the statement as dark green curls bob up and down with the movement.

“Why-” Izuku holds up a hand and stops the young adult in the middle of his sentence, not really wanting to answer that question and also reminding him that this is not an interrogation.

“I believe it is getting quite late, Hawks.” The mask slips into an easy smile that, despite both Hawks and Eraserhead knowing is fake, they can’t really seem to tell and it’s hard to remind yourself that this natural, carefree, lopsided grin that seems to brighten up the room is a carefully practiced and trained expression that has no truth behind it.

Awkwardly, the man stands up and dismisses himself. He ponders over the underground hero’s words. If what Aizawa told him was true, they’re going to have a real problem on their hands.

Izuku is a brilliant child and invaluable asset to the heroes but he’s not an object. But it’s seeming more and more like everyone is seeing him as one.

He perches on the glass paned window frame of a quirked animal’s office, knocking twice before being let into the room holding a total of ten people. Nedzu welcomes him cheerfully but he’s got that glint in his eye that makes grown men chake in their boots because that means the stoat is surely up to something.

Hawks finds it’s not nearly as intimidating after holding a conversation with Izuku Midoriya.

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“Hawks, Mission Report.” A burly man with shortcut blonde hair wearing sunglasses and an expensive navy suit commands gruffly. The head of the HPSC is confident that their creation is successful. Hawks was a gifted child with a powerful quirk trained to be a soldier and had come out of it whole.

“Shouta Aizawa, who goes by the hero name Eraserhead, was tied up in the same room reported by All Might. I crawled through the window and got information about current events going on at the League of Villains. Izuku Midoriya then entered the room just after I managed to crawl out the window in an failed attempt to hide. He then called me back in and I tried to get information out of him but ended up gaining very little. The boy was not violent and seemed to be upset at the idea of fighting with the heroes.” The winged man replies robotically, having been trained to do this since he was ten years old.

“They’ve shunned Izuku after their leader was captured and are currently forcing him to make a choice that Aizawa’s life relies on.” Hawks says solemnly, the atmosphere in the room becomes tense.

“What do they want him to do?” Nedzu leans forward slightly, a feeling of nervousness spreading through his chest. His ear twitches and his nose scrunches up slightly as if on edge. Something is wrong here.

The popular hero sighs out and looks to the ground, balling his hands into fists and grumbling out something quietly that nobody can hear. But Nedzu’s ears are sensitive and they stand up as he processes what he’s just heard and the humans in the room request Hawks repeat himself.

“They want Izuku to become a villain.” Everything grows quiet enough to hear a pin drop as Nedzu’s mind works at a mile a minute and he can’t come up with a viable plan because he knows he’s not even close to the younger’s intelligence level.

“If he doesn’t join them by the end of the week they’ll kill Eraserhead. If he does, they’ll free him.” And with that, the blonde man excuses himself and flies out of the window with a frustrated look on his face.

But Nedzu continues to think and it’s been so long since he has been given a puzzle without a solution. How could this have all occurred from just a few games of chess? So in a panic to please the humans that he hates so much but will forever live under the control of, Nedzu makes a decision.

He acts without thinking.

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“Don’t do it.” The black haired man blurts out, his eyes pleading and worried. Izuku co*cks his head at him with that blank expression Shouta hates so much and promptly plops down onto the ground, his legs criss crossed and eyes trained up at the erasure hero. He feels like his soul is being judged by the deep, dull, empty gaze of Midoriya Izuku.

“Excuse me?” And that, that makes the older man wince. The polite, unfamiliar tone coming from the teenager’s lips as if he is nothing but a stranger. The curly haired boy doesn’t move from his spot though. He just looks up at him and it feels both like he’s being analysed closely and like the genius is far away, dead to the world as he gets lost in his own brain.

“Don’t become a villain, Izuku. I don’t know why you still care about me but don’t worry, I’ll be fine.” He smiles weakly at the boy and watches as the younger looks at him with something akin to confusion and resentment. And he looks so sad, like the life has been sucked out of him. A shell of the child he used to know.

Izuku doesn’t want to care about Aizawa. He betrayed him and tried to send him back to that hell that his parents called home. But are the villains much better? Why does he care so much about a hero? Is it because Aizawa’s hugs were warm and safe and maybe he was caged but when he was with the elder it felt like home. And he trusted him. He worked hard to gain a teenager’s trust, surely that says something about his character?

Maybe it’s the way Aizawa holds him dearly and Izuku’s just so touch starved that he let him and his mother and father stopped being warm and safe and nothing felt safe and warm and he never felt loved when he was a child. Was he manipulated? Was he that desperate for affection? Why did he trust Aizawa? Why does he still care? Why does Aizawa feel more like a father than Hisashi ever has?

So Izuku does the only thing he has ever really felt good at. He avoids the topic, lets it cloud over him like everything else, a noose slowly tightening around his neck. Waiting for the day it gets to be too much and overwhelms him. He’s scared.

“Do you know what it’s like to be a ‘gifted child’, Aizawa?” He instead questions, pushing aside the other man’s concerns. There’s no reply.

“I’m sure you do. Maybe in a different way but you do nonetheless. Maybe you experienced the burnout. I doubt it. You’re resilient and determined and you fought your way through the Sports Festival, being one of the only people to get moved up to the hero course from general studies. Sure, they didn’t help you but you were able to help yourself. You’re smart, no doubt about it. But you don’t really know what it’s like, to be a child like me, do you?” Foam soles rub at the scuff marks on the floor and Izuku tries to not look at the brown splotches of dried blood as he speaks at the hero tied to the folding chair in front of him.

“We both know I’m smarter than you are, Aizawa. Now, Nedzu used to come close. Do you know how they raised Nedzu? They didn’t. He was smart because of his quirk, not something you can smash into pieces and ignore and deny. They did tests on him but he learned because no matter how much they neglected to teach him he taught himself, he learned and observed and watched and planned. He soaked up every bit of information he could get without failure because he was a genius and there was nothing anyone could do about it.” Still the greenette continues, fiddling with his fingers. Sure the best plan would be to release Aizawa but then he wouldn’t be neutral and the erasure hero is far too injured to get far. No, betraying the villains would only lead to both of their deaths. And that’s a failure. Izuku isn’t allowed to fail. He can’t fail to survive when that’s all he’s been trying to do for the past fifteen years of his life.

“But I was quirkless, a useless child. No teacher believed I could be smart. So they gave me bad grades and ignored my questions and confused me by teaching me incorrectly, letting the rest of the class thrive. I couldn’t even teach myself at home because that’s where my parents were and if I asked for help I would never live it down. But I was expected to get good grades because they knew I was smart. So in order to survive I figured it out by myself. Do you know how horrible it is to be a genius? A child prodigy? Quirkless, but smarter than any quirked person I’ve ever met? It’s lonely. It’s loud. I’m bored. There’s so much in my head and I feel like I’m getting lost. Tell me Aizawa, do you know what it’s like to be alone at the top?” He grows breathless towards the end, but Izuku continues on, face morphing into something desperate and tired and confused and scared and overwhelmed. Aizawa doesn’t know what it’s like. He doesn’t want to know.

“I don’t know what it’s like, but let me help you Midoriya. Please. I know I’ve betrayed you but becoming a villain isn’t the way out. You never wanted this. Go to the heroes, clear your name. They’ll help you. We can fix the situatio-” The underground hero begs, scouring his brain for any possible solution and being frustrated when he comes up with blanks.

“Show me a story of a child like me that ends well, Aizawa.” Izuku simply says, eyes downcast as he slowly gets up. He’s even farther from making his decision than he was when he started. There’s no way out. He feels trapped. Everything is numb.

“Wh-” Aizawa starts, trying to think of a single person as smart as Izuku that has had a happy ending, unable to give even the example of Nedzu because that has never been a happy story. He comes up with names of gifted children he’s met in the past and thinks about how they burned out or killed themselves or simply disappeared. Nothing.

Freckled cheeks shine slightly as Izuku gives the hostage a blinding smile, his petite hand on the doorknob. His heart clenches slightly for the boy he was supposed to protect and be there for and failed. He can’t help but think that the smile is fading slightly, emptier than they’ve been in the past. The door clicks open and the greenette takes a step out, turning on his heel to face him as he prods the door shut, sadly saying his parting words.

“There isn’t one.”

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What can he do? How does he fix it? Isn’t he supposed to be a genius? He knows he's a genius. Why can’t he find a solution? Five days until he has to become a villain or let Aizawa die. Surely the choice is obvious. He’s just being selfish, wanting to be normal.

What will they make him do when he becomes a villain? Surely he’s not strong to be a fighter despite beating them in spars all the time. He’s quirkless after all and no amount of hand to hand combat is going to nullify that.

Will they put his brain to use? Use him to taunt the heroes and analyse them? Or will they make him a poster child example of a boy failed by the system who used to teach the heroes and ‘voluntarily’ joined the villains in the end?

He sits on the rickety cot that sits in the corner of his cold room with a barred window that feels a bit too much like a cage to be comfortable. It’s unavoidable. He clearly does care for Aizawa. So much for being neutral.

Savory smells waft into his room and his mouth begins to water. They must’ve ordered chinese food for dinner tonight. He walks out the door and enters the bar, surprised to find his usual stool filled by a stranger who looks a lot like a teenage ninja turtle. But it’s not a big deal so he just sits on the couch and tries to ignore the way the atmosphere became awkward and forced when he came in and once again feels cast out, paranoid, and just so so alone.

There isn’t a container of Szechuan Chicken for him, he realises. They didn’t order it for him. It’s okay. He just won’t eat dinner tonight. The turtle slurps on a mouthful of noodles and thanks Kurogiri for buying him food. There’s a pang in Izuku’s chest.

He feels everyone’s eyes boring into him with something similar to disgust and curls into himself, wishing he had never left his bed. What did he do to get here? He’d do anything to just be normal at this point. Anything at all to be anywhere else in the world than here or with the heroes.

The television screen that used to be a pixelated picture of an unidentifiable man that would grumble out warped orders every once in a while rapidly switches through channels, soon lands on a true crime show that Toga, Dabi and the new turtle dude ponder over, chiming in suggestions on how the murderer could’ve not gotten caught, laughing freely with bright smiles on their faces. Nobody invites him to participate. He feels cast out. Is it really so horrible of him to wish he didn’t have to be a villain?

But he’s going to drag this out as long as possible. February 3rd will be the last day of his civilian life and they’ll let Aizawa go. It’s the right thing to do. The only true option he’s got at this point.

After a socially acceptable amount of time of sitting there on the torn up, blood stained couch by himself, knees hugged up close to his chest, Izuku stands up and heads to the exit, ready to sit in his room and stare into space while he racks his brain for possible escape plans until he falls asleep.

Suddenly a blaring alarm sounds from the television monitor speakers and the crime show is replaced with the HPSC logo with the words ‘URGENT PUBLIC SERVICE ANNOUNCEMENT’ in bold, plastered across the screen. Immediately the League members perk up, staring at the electronic device with rapt attention.

Izuku stops in his tracks and looks up at the screen with confusion and a sense of foreboding lingering in his chest. He stays in the room, standing awkwardly near the door, tilting his body back so he can see the screen instead of sitting down near Toga only for her to tell him to move or give him that look that makes him feel like the most worthless person in the city.

The broadcast changes to a line of people wearing suits sitting at a large table almost like a press conference. In the middle of it all is the famed Nedzu, principal of UA and renowned genius. To his left is All Might and Hawks and to his right is the leader of the HPSC and Endeavor.

Nedzu leans forward and speaks into his microphone. He keeps glancing to his left and it makes Izuku wonder what could be making the stoat nervous. Judging by their posture of trying to look intimidating but still being on edge, they must be trying to scare a villain of sorts. Probably nothing that concerns him.

“This is a message to Izuku Midoriya.” The principal of UA says loud and clear. His hair stands on end and he walks over directly in front of the television and stares up at it with carefully intense eyes. The villains are all staring at him with accusing glares, about to say something to him and threaten him until he breaks. They all shift into defensive stances, Izuku does as well, it’s unconscious. The atmosphere is angry and betrayed and dangerous. It feels like Inko. It doesn’t feel like home anymore.

But Kurogiri stops them, despite also being ready to attack and accuse the boy; he insists that everyone listen to the broadcast before making assumptions. Izuku gives him a grateful smile that isn’t returned. It’s almost like the warp quirked man’s eyes graze over him as if he’s not even there.

“We have gotten reports from an inside source that 15 year old Izuku Midoriya is conspiring with the League of Villains who attempted to attack class 1-A at USJ just a few months ago.” The head of HPSC announces, his deep voice resonating throughout the room. Toga lunges at the greenette insisting it must’ve been him, he’s the leak. He quickly disarms her and co*cks his head to the monitor.

“I have been investigating the League of Villains for a while now. Recently I spoke with a hero held hostage who we will not be naming. According to him, previous business student Midoriya is being groomed to become a villain.” The winged hero speaks up and Toga’s eyes widen in understanding. She grumbles out an apology and returns back to her seat, resting her chin in her hands as she watches the broadcast with a bored expression.

“Unfortunately we were unable to rescue Erase-the anonymous hero. However I was able to capture the leader of the League of Villains who is here with us today.” All Might smiles as he says this and it makes Izuku wonder if he likes to ruin children’s lives in his spare time. Hawks steps on the patriotic hero’s foot as he slips up and almost says the underground hero’s name.

Tomura is pushed onto screen, guarded by a pissed off Endeavor who talks about how Shigaraki Tomura is the scum of Earth, gesturing to the tied up villain who slumps over in his metal chair, muzzled and cuffed to the seat, quirk suppression cuffs strapped to his wrists. Green washi tape peeks out from behind the restraints, taped around his fingers, barely hanging on, but there. Izuku feels like he’s been gutted, or better yet, stabbed in the chest and left to bleed out until he’s completely empty.

“We are here to propose a deal.” Shuffling sounds arise from the seated men as most of them look slightly uncomfortable. So they didn’t agree on this deal. The camera zooms in on Nedzu and the screen splits into a closeup of the genius and the villain.

“It has been decided that for the good of the public that-” Nedzu starts, eyes narrowed at the camera, as if trying to stare into Izuku’s soul. It’s working. Someone audibly scoffs from the corner and it sounds too much like Hawks to be anyone else. The young hero must think the resident genius is making a mistake. Izuku wonders what a genius like Nedzu could do to make someone as clever as Hawks disagree with him.

“It is vital that Izuku Midoriya does not become a villain.” The albino stoat finishes. Silence permeates the room and the villains bristle, snarling quietly at the quirks animal.

“If Izuku Midoriya becomes a hero, we will release Shigaraki Tomura.” All eyes fall on the quirkless teenager who blanches at the statement spoken straight from his mentor’s snout.

“However, if Midoriya does not return to UA with the intention of joining the hero course and getting his license… Shigaraki Tomura is the leader of the League of Villains and has been confirmed to have committed crimes punishable by death.” Izuku lowers his gaze to the ground, not wanting to see the pleading look in Tomura’s eyes and the way everyone in the room seems to study him as if he is less than human.

“Please make your decision by February 3rd.” The broadcast ends and Kurogiri shuts off the screen with a beep. Everyone turns to him and Izuku refuses to meet any of their eyes.

The air feels suffocating and thick and he can’t breathe. Everything is cold and he feels lost as his brain begins to filter through desperate thoughts and possible solutions and outcomes and he realises just how hopeless the situation is. As he tries to ignore the calculating, deadly stares of the League he realises the weight of what he has to do. It doesn't matter what he does, it's going to be all his fault. Make a choice, Izuku.

Aizawa or Tomura?

Hero or Villain?

Someone has to die.

Chapter 19

Chapter Text

The bar is so silent you could hear a pin drop. He's always know silence means danger. Silence means he should be scared. Silence always ends in hurt. Six heads turn to him and instead of the sorrow and pity he was expecting to see, their eyes glint with greed and slight anger. A cold calculating look on Kurogiri’s face fills Izuku’s gut with dread.

“Well what are we waiting for? Pack your stuff up and go to UA and get Tomura back! Stay here, it’s a trap!” Twice shouts out after what feels like hours of contemplative silence.

“Midoriya-san, why do the heroes want you so badly? If you’re so valuable that they’d risk releasing Tomura…” Kurogiri mumbles out in a deep voice.

“Tomura wouldn’t want Izuku to become a hero anyways.” Toga pouts out, keen eyes studying the boy before her with newfound interest.

Izuku hunches into himself uncomfortably. Is this all he is now? A bargaining chip?

“Let’s think about this logically-” Dabi starts out, looking at the child curled up into a ball, trying to make himself as small as possible with a pang in his chest. He looks just like Shouto. How is his little brother doing? Izuku knows, doesn’t he?

“We can’t give him to the heroes. They call us villains. They call us evil and sneaky and dirty. But they’re the liars, slippery bastards are probably trying to lure us into a trap. There’s no way they’d just give us Tomura in exchange for a quirkless boy. Plus, did you forget about the underground hero we have tied up in the garage? Are they just going to forget about him? This all just seems a bit too fishy to me.” The blonde girl says nonchalantly, polishing a dagger idly to keep her hands busy in a rare burst of intelligence that slips through her manic, love me, bloodthirsty facade she usually tries to keep up.

“I’m the acting leader while Tomura is incapacitated so please let me speak.” A warp quirked man pipes up from behind the bar, training his glowing yellow eyes to Izuku. The greenette looks away, and accidentally captures Toga’s gaze. Dimly, he realises her eyes were never scarlet like Tomura’s, red like blood. They’re a piercing yellow, bright and innocent to the untrained person but to the civilian teenager they look more like warning signs he just ignored.

“Izuku Midoriya. Explain why the heroes are so set on you becoming a hero.” Kurogiri commands. The boy in question clamps his mouth shut stubbornly, dead set on staying neutral because no matter how hard he tries he cares about the League, and he cares about the heroes. And it’s wrong because they’ve hurt him so deeply.

But Izuku keeps coming back, and loving them, like the loyal puppy Inko always said he was. Because Izuku is starved. And once he trusts someone, it’s permanent. He’s a naive little child who happens to be a genius but he’s still vulnerable and he still has more to learn and he has feelings because he’s a human like everyone else.

“Now now, ‘Zuku-chan. Talk to us. It’s your fault you’re in this situation anyways. Afterall, I’m your best friend, right?” Toga sings out in a high voice, pressing the polished knife to his head, tip down in his curly hair. The nickname that used to be endearing and happy feels like a taunt now. It hurts.

In an instant the business student starts to disarm the girl, operating purely on reflexes and instinct but a purple substance seeps through the air and his arm sinks into it, stopping him from hitting his friend. Dull green eyes widen in realization of what he’s done and he falls to the ground, fear bubbling up inside of him. Fear of himself.

Was he about to hurt someone? He’s no better than Inko. That’s not what someone who’s neutral would do, Izuku. Give up. There’s no solution. There’s no way out. You can’t hide. They won’t be able to find you but they’ll know you’re there. Think, Izuku, think.

“Oi, don’t hurt him, what about Tomura? What would he think about how you’re acting right now?” Dabi glares at the two of them as he interrupts in a hard tone. Immediately a squabble breaks out between them and it’s not playful like it used to be. The air is thick and dangerous and scary and maybe it’s not silent and scary but it’s loud and violent. And it feels just like Inko.

Spinner looks put off and quietly leaves the bar, closing the door behind him and muttering something about bad dynamics and no trust whatsoever as he exits the building. Leaving Izuku alone with the four villains who he used to think weren’t all that bad and for some reason still can’t seem to hate despite everything.

“He’s smart.” Kurogiri’s robotic tone sounds throughout the room and Izuku tenses up. They know. They’re just like the heroes.

“And? He’s still quirkless.” Toga warbles out, straining while she tries to run her knife through Dabi’s torso while preventing the scarred man from burning off her ash blonde bun.

“Tomura’s in love with him and he’s smart and he’s got connections and he’s good at fighting and he used to teach the hero students. To us he’s invaluable. To them? He’s friends with the villains and Tomura’s in love with him and he knows almost all of our secrets and he’s good at fighting and he knows all of our quirks and weaknesses and where we’re located and he’s smart. Maybe Midoriya is quirkless but he’s useful. If he becomes a villain they’re screwed. If he becomes a hero, we’re screwed. It goes both ways.” Dabi interjects, feeling slightly protective of the younger but his hate for society and heroes overriding it. If Izuku becomes a villain he can treat him well and destroy Endeavor, it’s a win-win.

“He’ll be a perfect example of someone failed by the heroes. It will work well to our advantage. He’s weak!!” Twice contributes.

“If Midoriya goes to the heroes and we get Tomura back, we still have Eraserhead so we might have an edge but they’ll know the ins and outs of how we work. Not to mention our leader is head over heels for him so there’s no way that will go over well. But, if Midoriya stays here and becomes a villain and we release Eraserhead, the underground hero may have some information about us but he’s not as in the loop as Midoriya is. Sure they have Tomura but the public hates executions, plus, Midoriya not returning will only further damage UA’s reputation. If we have Midoriya on our side, we will be able to infiltrate UA and the heroes easily and rescue Tomura. He can make us a plan.” Kurogiri muses, nodding his head approvingly at his own plan.

Izuku feels a chill go down his spine. They’re right. That way both Tomura and Aizawa will be safe. But he won’t be neutral. He’ll have to make plans to kill heroes. Is that really a life he wants to live? They’ll force him to kill Aizawa. He knows it.

“What if we just didn’t give Eraserhead back and he became a villain?” A low whisper suggests. Toga has her head hung low, a shadow cast over her eyes. “This is his fault anyways. We don’t owe him anything.” Silence permeates the air and Izuku feels as if he’s been dunked in a bucket of ice-cold water. Hums of approval sound throughout the room.

“We can’t have Midoriya become a hero because they won’t give Tomura back. Surely it’s a trap. But if he becomes a villain, he can save Tomura and we can have Eraserhead as a hostage just to hold it over their heads.” Kurogiri summarises the agreed course of action with a content look in his posture.

No. This wasn’t the deal. Izuku’s head swirls with betrayal. Because they’re right. The heroes will never give back Tomura. They’re not reckless enough. But this wasn’t what he agreed on. The League promised to release Aizawa. Didn’t they? No matter what he does neither one will be free. And if he doesn’t choose one, both of them will die.

What should he do? How can he fix it?

If he releases Aizawa and helps him escape by betraying the League, he won’t be able to save Tomura because the heroes won’t let go of an S-ranked villain that easily. Even if he turns himself in and they by some miracle, do release Tomura, they won’t let him go, he’ll be a prisoner to the system. How can he hide when the world knows his face? Maybe he could convince the underground hero? No, no matter how guilty Aizawa feels he has morals he’ll never betray.

What if he hides? Runs away and goes somewhere nobody will find him? If he doesn’t want anyone to find him, they won’t. But they’ll know he’s out there. They’ll know he’s alive. They’ll know he’s hiding and they’ll kill Aizawa and Tomura.

How can he fix this?

Help.

But instead of bursting out in protest like he wishes he could, Izuku does as he was taught to do. Izuku does what he did with Inko. He survives.

He stays quiet.

And searches frantically for a way out.

“If Izuku becomes a hero though, they’ll definitely try to get Eraserhead back and use him as bait. We could totally do that too. Give them the hero and take back the kid. Maybe they will give us back Tomura. I’m sure if we held him at gunpoint in front of the gates and refused to let him go until they gave us back Tomura it would all work out. You said Izuku’s smart Kurogiri?” Dabi speaks up and the freckled genius feels a wave of relief flood through him. Maybe they won’t force him to be a villain. Maybe they’ll let him be free and figure it out themselves by getting Tomura back another way.

“Yes?” If the purple coloured man had eyebrows he’d be raising them right now.

“Then let him choose.” Dabi grins evilly. Either way they’ll figure it out. Either way they’ll get Tomura back. And with their leader, surely Izuku will come back to them. Hero society is reliable that way. It always fails them when it matters most.

A noose tightens around his neck again as everyone agrees to let him choose, relying on his brian to make the best decision, playing on the guilt that plagues him to try and sway him towards becoming a villain in the end.

Izuku feels like he’s drowning.

All he’s ever done is survive.

Is that enough anymore?

No matter what he does.

It’s going to be his fault.

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He can’t leave the hideout. Not without raising any alarms. They’ll think he’s trying to betray them or become a hero without getting Tomura back. They’ll think he’s trying to escape with Aizawa.

There’s no choice.

The sky grows dark as Izuku sits on the roof, feet swinging precariously off the edge. He whistles as if he doesn’t have a care in the world, glancing at the drop from the tall building. And sure, he’s outside, nothing’s holding him back, no walls or bars, and it shouldn’t feel like he’s in a cage.

But there’s a rope around his neck and it’s like he’s a bird being told to sing because that’s what birds are supposed to do, right? Sing. That’s the only thing they’re good for once you clip their wings and stuff them into a metal cage covered in embellishments to make it prettier but nothing can ever change the fact that it’s a cage.

The rope cuts off the circulation and blocks his vocal chords and they clipped his wings and stuffed him in a cage so how on earth is he supposed to sing? Why would he want to sing when they took away his ability to fly and there’s this rope strangling him? But if he doesn’t sing he’ll never be free. If he doesn’t sing they’ll be disappointed. If he doesn’t sing, someone he cares about is going to die.

Stars glimmer brightly in the clear night sky. Not a cloud in sight. Izuku breathes in the frigid air that makes his lungs ache and his head hurt from the cold. But it feels nice. It feels fresh. It doesn’t smell like blood and alcohol and the perfume Toga wears and the cologne Dabi drenches himself in every morning in a vain attempt to cover the smell of rotting fish that comes with his stapled scars and inability to shower as a result. It smells clean.

And sure, wafts of piss and alcohol and cigarettes and blood rise up from the streets below but it’s not familiar like the stench inside the hideout. The cold air feels familiar in a different way.

Like deja vu almost.

He sits on the edge of the roof, high in the air as icy winds swirl through his hair and whips against his legs. The boy’s at the top of the world. Clouds puff out of his mouth and they look like smoke as he breathes heavily, relishing the feeling of exhilaration as he leans forward and wobbles precariously on the ledge. Should he let go? Should he let himself fall?

This has happened before.

A long time ago.

Stars twinkle in a midnight sky and reflect in his green eyes, weathered by the harshness of the world and dulled by the disappointment of life. Tomura would’ve thought the sight to be breathtaking. Izuku doesn’t know why the red eyed man always wondered at his emerald eyes.

But Tomura’s not here right now.

Warm tears trickle down his freckled cheeks, growing cold with the weather and shine in the glow of the moon. The wet tracks that coat his face feel cold and he wonders briefly if he doesn’t dry his face, if they’ll turn into ice. He leans over, as if expecting someone’s warm shoulder to catch him. Aizawa would’ve let him lean on his shoulder, listening to him calmly and placating him in that soft, understanding tone that made the younger feel safe. Izuku doesn’t know why the long haired man always held him close with a fond smile on his lips.

But Aizawa’s not here right now.

Instead his head thunks onto the concrete ledge and his curls sway with the wind while he shivers, feeling alone in the universe, not for the first time. He’s not tired, and though it may be late and the streets in the heart of the city, where heroes patrol with smiles on their faces, attempting to be reassuring to children and citizens all over the world, are silent and safe.

The outskirts, ugly, evil, and cast out by society are just waking up. The alleys grow bright as cars race down them and crooks creep into houses without much discretion because they’re either going to get caught by the owner of the house or they’ll get away with it because for some reason there’s never been a police car patrolling the area.

Izuku observes the cheerfulness of the outcasts with a blank face, emptiness being the only feeling in his chest because nothing makes him feel anything like it used to.

Children run down the alleyways, weaving through the thugs and gang fights as if they’ve been doing it their whole life. And they probably have. He recognises them. Leave it to the children to notice the small details because by some sort of miracle they spot him and wave excitedly, pausing their game of tag to point at him and jump up and down.

He waves back, a small smile on his face because it’s been so long and he misses it but he really can’t go to the park to tell them stories right now. Eventually though, they leave and he’s all alone again.

So the quirkless boy sighs and retreats into the cage to sit in his bed and stare at the ceiling as his deadline grows closer. Despair clouds the room and Izuku wonders if he should just die. If this is a sign he doesn’t belong and his story is supposed to end here.

Four days left.

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Izuku walks down a hallway and it’s dark and never ending and there’s no light at the end of the tunnel. Nobody is there, everyone screams and yells at him and hates him. Nobody loves him. Kacchan is right, he’s a worthless, useless, quirkless Deku.

He should just die.

A man kneels in front of him and puts a hand on his shoulder, he freezes. It’s cold. This man is cold. His face is kind and he is kind to Izuku. But it hurt. Was he being kind? It hurt so badly though. He hurt him.

The elder man kisses him hard and the seven year old flinches back, crying out softly when the grip on his shoulder tightens painfully. Nobody cares about him. This isn’t right. But he’s just being kind. So it’s okay.

This is okay.

“They don’t care about you Izuku. But I do. Izuku, I love you.” And the little boy, so starved for love and affection hugs the older man back and believes him.

This must be love.

His pants are pulled down harshly and everything hurts and he feels like he’s on fire.

His teacher tells him it’s love.

But Sir shushes him and maybe he doesn’t stop when Izuku begs him to but it’s okay.

Teachers are always right, aren’t they?

Blood drips down his thighs and tears coat his cheeks when it’s finally over after what feels like hours.

Is this what love feels like?

Everything aches and he’s alone again and he feels gross and something is wrong. A terrible feeling spreads through his chest and it’s ugly and unwelcome but it possesses him to wobble up the seven sets of steps and sit on the edge of the roof.

Izuku doesn’t like love.

A seven year old boy stares at the ground, watching the blood stream down his legs and drip off the heel of his foot, falling down onto the pavement below. The child wishes it were him instead, splattering onto the street off the seven story building.

It hurts.

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A fifteen year old boy with green hair wakes up slowly, registering the sun setting from the corner of his eye and curses because his sleep schedule is going to be f*cked. His head hurts, dimly he wonders why his dreams are so realistic lately as the vivid colours of the sunset fade away with the memories of his night vision.

“f*ck.” The curly haired teenager curses. It’s game night. He’s late. He has to go give Aizawa some bullsh*t excuse so he can go… Oh right. They don’t invite him to game night anymore. Aizawa betrayed him. And nothing matters at this point.

He’s just as useless as everyone always said.

But Toga bursts in and he’s expecting that disdainful look that he dreads and fears with every fibre of his being but she’s got a soft smile on her face and sure, he knows it’s fake but it feels so warm and welcoming. There’s no apology in his eyes and Izuku doesn’t expect one but she asks if he wants to join game night and he thinks she must be an angel in disguise.

Maybe it’s awkward and it will never be that same carefree warmth that it used to be but at least it’s something. The grin on Dabi’s face when he throws a red shell at the person in front of him and it hits, and the laughter that feels a bit forced but it’s laughter nonetheless rings throughout the room and Izuku remembers why this place used to feel like home.

His chest feels lighter than it has in weeks and he’s elated because maybe he could become a villain, logically that’s the best choice and maybe it won’t be that bad. The quirkless boy bids Dabi and Toga goodnight and walks down the hallway to his room.

But he pauses before his door and turns his head to the room at the end of the hall. Kurogiri didn’t feed Aizawa tonight, should he do it? No, no, no. He can’t, they’ll think he’s conspiring or trying to betray them.

Though, just a quick check wouldn’t matter much, would it? With high hopes, Izuku convinces himself that it’s okay. That everything is back to the way it used to be like he craves.

He opens the heavy iron door and everything seems to shatter before his eyes, the rose tinted glasses falling off of his face because they promised they would take care of Aizawa and he had nothing to worry about. The long haired man looks like he hasn’t been fed in days and Izuku feels his heart drop suddenly as if made from lead.

So the child leaves and he runs over to the bar and without even thinking, grabs the collar of Kurogiri’s suit and yanks it down so they’re standing eye to eye. Maybe he expected everyone to brush it off because they know he’d never willingly hurt a person, maybe he expected to be stared at or judged or maybe pulled off of the man.

But Izuku didn’t expect a hand to grab his wrist and long nails to dig into his skin, about to draw blood. He didn’t expect the hand to be cold and dry like Inko’s. He didn’t even ponder what he would do when he looked up at Toga and saw his mother.

Hurt flashes briefly on Himiko’s eyes when the teenager moves to attack her and lands a hard blow on her forearm, breaking the bone with ease. For a second she wonders if Izuku was always this strong. But satisfaction fills her bones when she sees the shock and fear in the greenette’s eyes when he sees it’s her he hit. It makes her feel sick. Didn’t she promise to always be on his side not so long ago?

Dabi rushes towards the blonde and sprays out a wall of fire that singes the ends of Izuku’s curly hair, cradling the younger’s broken arm and making sure she’s okay. The freckled genius watches the scene with appalled eyes, wondering what he’s done and how he could’ve been so dumb to act out or be angry for once.

Aizawa lied. It’s not okay to be angry. He shouldn’t be angry. He has to be pleasant to survive. So Izuku apologises profusely to the warp quirked man and the girl with an injured arm before grabbing two water bottles from the fridge, an apple and a baguette and running as fast as he can.

The league members stand in shock for a few minutes, processing what just happened before calling up the doctor to heal Toga’s arm, on edge from the sudden attack and wondering if they really want someone that volatile to be a villain.

But all in all, it’s better to have Izuku Midoriya on their side.

It doesn’t matter how he feels.

The student in question pulls open the door with two fingers, wedging his foot in the crack as his arms are full of food and bursting into the room where Aizawa looks up at him without showing how weak he is.

“I brought food.” Izuku states the obvious, dumping the load on the ground and untying the hero.

“You can’t leave though. I’m not sure I could hold all of them off at once and Kurogiri would just warp you back.” The greenette tears off a chunk of bread and stuffs it in his mouth while Aizawa rubs at his raw wrists, sighing happily at the feeling of being free of his restraints.

And so the two sit in silence for a long time. Munching slowly on the food because it’s been too long since either of them have eaten and if they go too quickly it’s all going to come back up.

“I’m gonna stay here I think.” Izuku speaks up suddenly, voice wobbly and attempting to resemble something like being resolute but failing miserably.

“And why is that?” Aizawa questions in a wary, calm voice, trying to hide the utter guilt and sadness and shock at the statement. He can’t panic. One wrong move and it might set the child off.

“Because what if they-” The boy pauses, about to have admitted the truth and told a hero, an adult, that maybe the League would change when he became a villain. Maybe it’d go back to normal and he could be happy and Aizawa would be free because Izuku would figure out a way to get him free if he just had more time. So he lies to Aizawa, lies to himself.

“They’ll release you. You’re a hero, isn’t this the thing you’d want me to do anyways? You could be free.” And there’s something about the way Izuku says that last word that makes it hit the elder even harder. The longing and hope and soft sort of calmness around the world as if he’s in a different world and a different time where he can break out of his cage.

“I-I don’t want you to do this. I’m- I- please, I’ll be okay, run away Midoriya. Be free. Don’t worry about me. You shouldn’t have to choose. B-” Aizawa starts, eyes pleading and dark and tired, but alive.

“They’ll kill you. I can’t leave. They’ll know I’m out there, they’ll know I’m alive. I can’t leave you.” The freckled boy spits out the words, eyes trained firmly on the ground he sits on, angry at the world, angry at himself. And sad.

“Become a hero then. It’s not too bad.” The voice is soft and welcoming and hopeful and sorry. It makes Izuku feel sick to his stomach because Aizawa is just like them. Is he just a tool? Is this how Tomura’s feeling too? Does Tomura want him to be a villain too? Is Toga telling the truth? What is he supposed to do?

“You’re the only hero I like, Aizawa. What’s the point? They don’t really want me. Nobody cares about me there. At least here-”

“I care, no, no, no, no, look at me Midoriya. What about Hatsume Mei? What about 1-A? You haven’t made up with Tokoyami yet, have you? Please, we care about you.”

“But I wouldn’t be free there. Not one bit.”

The room goes silent.

Izuku stands up and ties the rope around the man who he used to see as something akin to a father.

He looks at Aizawa.

Aizawa looks at him.

And the hero thinks that the civilian boy looks tired.

“I’m sorry.” He tries.

The boy leaves.

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A pro hero with red wings walks into a bar. It’s not a joke. There’s no punchline. He seeks out a head of black hair that should be white and isn’t disappointed. The villain’s fellow customers lean away from him because he reeks of blood and alcohol and piss and Hawks knows it’s been years since Dabi last showered.

He sighs and flutters his feathers, threading a hand through his hair as he sits on the barstool next to the fire user with an appreciative groan slipping from his lips. It’s been far too long since he sat down. Maybe he can ask the HPSC for shorter patrols.

There’s a war going on inside the sly hero’s mind despite his apparent easygoing, carefree disposition and the lazy smile on his face as he orders a pint from the bartender and turns to the man who seems to be the closest thing he has to a friend his age.

“Yo.” He greets casually, saluting the scarred man with a relaxed, slumped posture that makes him seem open and unguarded. In a rare display of consideration, Dabi gives him a sharp, slight nod in return, proceeding to down the remaining contents of his shot glass.

Hawks wonders if this villain knows how he’s torturing Midoriya. If he knows the burden they’ve placed on the kid is making him rot from the inside out. The boy’s just a teenager. A child. It makes him feel angry, a hot burning sensation that makes his gut churn with years of repressed rage, hate, and fear.

Should he just kill him now? That might lessen the load on the kid’s shoulders. He could probably fight them off. No, that might make Izuku hate the heroes and influence his decision.

He’s helpless.

Who would’ve thought that the number three hero, Hawks. Would be just as useless and worthless as a quirkless little Deku?

It seems that his internal monologue has been blocking out Dabi’s rant about society and how much he hates heroes. The flame user gives him a look of resentment, having seen him on the broadcast where they paraded around the League’s strong unbreakable leader as a limp, weak puppet. As if it hadn’t taken the number one hero himself, along with help, to catch him even though he literally sacrificed himself willingly.

Keigo wonders if he’s been thinking about this all wrong. If he’s been seeing only from the hero’s side and needs to put himself in the villain’s shoes. Maybe that’s it. Maybe then he’ll figure out a way to solve this for Midoriya.

See it from the hero’s perspective and the villain’s and find an answer. It’s the only way. Surely, this must do something. He tries not to think about how the Hero Commission told him they wanted to turn the quirkless genius into a hero like him. How he was a successful project.

The overheard conversations about how great it would be if Izuku Midoriya had been given a quirk by All for One before his early demise by his own student. Hawks feels sick to his stomach. Maybe the villains aren’t that bad. It doesn’t seem worse than being a hero.

A child soldier. Weaponized from a young age in exchange for an escape. From one cage to another. The only difference being that the first one was rusty and hadn’t been cleaned in years and the second was just smaller. Sure it was made of gold and it sparkled in the sun and everyone thought it was wonderful and good but it was still a cage. And they still clipped his wings all the same.

He walks around with Dabi, not really present in his own mind, a vacant shell that he parades around as a hero, a person to look up to. Is this really what he always dreamed of?

The villain absently mutters out information about the League and his ears perk up on instinct, internally recording every word for his mission report but not really caring at this point. Villain or hero? Does it really matter anymore? The more he thinks about it, the more they blend together. Isn’t it just the same thing with a different label?

He begins to understand why Izuku always talked about being neutral and longed to be a typical civilian. Hawks walks away from the League member with a heart heavy with misery, and flies through the air like he’s supposed to.

Smokey air whips against his face and he remembers a time when the air felt cool and fresh and clean whenever he flew because it was a new shiny skill that was innocent and hadn’t been touched by the Commission yet. His course varies from day to day, he lets his wings direct him to his destination, trusting his mind to steer him to wherever he needs to be.

But as the blonde nears UA, and lands on the roof, right above a room that he really shouldn’t enter and there’s not an official reason to enter, but he can’t be denied from, he wonders if this is really the correct course of action.

A pale hand presses to the security guard on the wall and lets a green line scan his fingerprints before requesting he enters a password. And finally the door opens mechanically, beeping three times and commanding with a robotic voice that he walks forward immediately. There’s a large, loud click behind him as he crosses the border and a long beep sounds, echoing through the large room.

It’s white and grey and monotone and boring. There’s a chair mounted to the ground in the middle of the floor, head hung low and scarlet eyes stubbornly trained on the ground. Quirk suppression cuffs are mounted securely to his arms and legs. He tries to ignore the way the ground is covered in dried blood that slowly drips down from the too tight restraints.

Lined eyes sharply catch the peeling tape slowly unwinding from the villain’s little fingers, nearly covered by the three fingered gloves meant to prevent the man from escaping.

Hawks walks forward with a heavy feeling of sorrow as he wonders just how Midoriya is feeling right now, knowing this man sacrificed himself for him and he can’t even love him back.

Tomura Shigaraki lifts his head slowly and sneers in the hero’s face, a scratchy voice escaping from his dry lips. Keigo stares at him blankly.

“What do you want, hero.” The blue haired man spits out and Hawks can’t help but notice the man’s pasty skin is covered with scratches that can’t have been self inflicted.

For a long time, the two stare at each other. Too young to be adults, too old to be children, and too helpless to save Izuku. He wonders if this is how Aizawa feels too.

What if he released the man, right now? Surely, he would let Aizawa go and Izuku would be happy again. A sheen of black glass that can only be a security camera catches his eye and he slumps in defeat. No, he can’t do that. He’s a government dog.

They’ll chase him and hurt him and track him and nobody will be safe. If he frees this villain, it will be seen as a declaration of war and he can’t do that to Izuku, he can’t do that to the heroes. He can’t do that to the villains.

He’s weak.

The camera blinks red and the winged man knows Nedzu is watching them.

Neither side will give up.

Somebody has to die.

A hero and a villain stare at each other knowingly.

There’s nothing they can do.

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Izuku stares out of the barred up window. His gaze is blank and heavy and sad all at the same time. It’s snowing outside. The white flakes fall from the sky, slowly and peacefully, making his eyes droop tiredly. It’s relaxing. Trying to forget what’s going on in his life.

He’s scared. No matter what he chooses neither of them will be free. If he doesn’t choose they’ll both die. If he chooses one will be dead and the other won’t be free. It’s a lose-lose situation.

And it’s a cloud of sadness. It leaves him unmotivated and tired and lethargic. Nothing makes him excited or happy anymore. Everything just feels numb.

Wouldn’t the ultimate neutral decision be to just run away and not make a choice? Maybe he should fake his death and hide. If he doesn’t want to be found, he won’t be. So what? They both die? Nobody cares about him anyways. They’re all faking it. After all, who would care about a useless, quirkless Deku?

No. No. That’s not true. And no matter how hard he tries to convince himself he can’t deny that Aizawa and Tomura are likely the only people who truly care, who matter. The greenette curses quietly, staring blankly at the sky.

Tears drop from his eyes, too heavy to be held by his lashes, dripping to the ground and smearing down his cheeks. They don’t really mean anything. It just happens sometimes. He’s been crying a lot lately.

Everything seems to hurt. But Izuku’s checked over and over and there are no bruises or cuts or broken bones or burns that aren’t healed. The scarred skin on his face stings sometimes and his body seems to ache all the time.

With his brain working overtime, trying to compensate for the open ended choice he has to make, everything he looks at he analyses. And his fingers itch to write it down in his notebooks but who would read an in depth description of the ways to use a flowerpot as a weapon?

The mattress he’s sitting on is five years and two months old exactly. It’s been vacuumed and cleaned several times by Kurogiri. Likely by Tomura’s command as the mattress store didn’t have the right size in stock for them to steal. The cuffs on the bed frame are less for kinky purposes and more for torture. Though in Toga’s case it may be a mixture of both.

No matter how many times the sheets are soaked in bleach, the bloodstains stay and the iron frame is rusted and sticky and it reeks of sweat, piss, and blood. The window looks too new for the room and was likely replaced after being smashed by a particularly rowdy hostage. Everything is blank and empty and nothing is pure, clean white. It’s all stained or the paint is peeling, revealing the grey and brown behind it.

Izuku stares out of the window, feeling strangely at peace as he watches the slow flurry float lethargically through the air as if they weigh nothing at all. When the freckled teen was a young boy he loved the snow. He touches the icy glass with frost creeping up it slowly. His breath clouds the window and makes it hard to see. The bars on the window block his view slightly, but they’ve been bent aside by the petite genius in one of his fits of desperation and frustration.

Crackling, faded street lamps light the alleyway up and the snow isn’t sticking quite yet but there’s a thick sheen of ice coating the pavement. And the rooftops begin to look soft and festive as snowflakes pile up in thin layers on every surface it can.

The lamps are a new addition. They appeared one day and it had taken a month before someone broke the bulb. But there’s someone who’s been repairing it. And despite the fact it’s practically been duct taped together, it’s still there. And children have taken to having little concerts underneath the lights in the evenings when it’s not too cold outside. Sometimes a couple of romantics will come along, blissful and so in love it’s like they’re wearing rose tinted glasses whenever they’re with their partner.

And they’ll dance. A silent waltz underneath a flickering streetlight in the slums of Musutafu, forgotten and cast out by society. For a moment they’ll forget about everything except the person in front of them.

Izuku hates them the most.

And it makes him feel lonely. He wonders what it’s like to look at someone with those eyes. Those eyes that are so warm and soft and it’s like the person they’re looking at is the only person in the world that exists. The lovesick laughs taunt him and he wonders if it’s all just fake. If he threw his chances away with Tomura. Maybe he could’ve grown love.

It seems to be all anyone could ever want and Izuku longs to feel that feeling that whenever he asked his mother what it felt like, she would tell him it was what he felt for her or tell him it’s not something she could explain and that one day he’d feel it and just know. And he’s read about it, this warm, fluttering, nervous feeling of pure happiness that can’t be avoided.

But he doesn’t feel that.

Is that what Tomura felt like? Isn’t it supposed to feel nice to have someone look at you with those eyes. Should he feel lucky that he’s the one who made Tomura feel that happiness that he’s never felt and doesn’t really search for?

To him it just felt like guilt.

Izuku broke Tomura’s heart. He’s seen heartbreak before. It looks painful. He’s never understood why people keep loving after going through that. A nagging voice whispers that the leader of the League is still in love with him and it’s his fault the elder was captured and he deserves to be in this position.

Pale, shaky hands wipe away the condensation on the fogged up window. The snowflakes come down fluffy and large, they almost look fake. Outside on the pavement covered in ice and patches of white snow that has just begun to stick, there are footprints.

A tall figure emerges from the shadows of the alley that everyone uses as a shortcut and a slightly shorter one bursts into the misty yellow of the streetlamp. Muffled laughs reach his ears even through the glass and walls of the building.

The taller is wearing a white hat with a pompom at the end, sweatpants, sneakers and a puffy jacket white the smaller wears a thick sweater and a long trench coat, boots, a scarf, gloves, and a beanie. Izuku can’t see their race, quirk or gender but it doesn’t really matter at all. They’re happy.

Under the light of a rickety lamp they start to chase each other, laughing the whole time, even as they run out of breath. Eventually they collapse on the ground, slipping on the ice and laughing as they fall to the ground painfully. It’s as if the pain is overridden by happiness.

And after a while they hug each other and walk away, singing showtunes playfully and spinning around on the slippery, iced road. The moon shines down brightly on the fresh layer of snow. Their shadows stretch behind them and the whole world seems to freeze just for a second.

Izuku thinks it looks straight out of a fairytale.

He doesn’t really know if they’re friends or lovers or family or even strangers and he really doesn’t care. Something inside the curly haired child aches. He’s lonely. He wants that. Maybe not a romantic relationship or a sexual one (he’s underage anyways), but he wants someone he can trust. Someone he can dance with under a streetlight and sing show tunes with at two in the morning with a smile on his face. Someone he can be free with.

He wants a friend.

He wants a family.

Tomura was his friend.

Aizawa was his family.

Not anymore.

He’s lost everyone dear to him.

They’re not dead or missing. But they’re all against him now. The league all blames him for Tomura’s capture and no doubt the entirety of UA is dead set on finding him and making him into a hero no matter what he wants.

Izuku doesn’t really know which one is worse.

He used to want to be a hero.

He used to want to be a villain.

Now he just wants to be a civilian.

He’s tired.

He just wants it to end.

It’s 6:59 am on February 1st and he’s got just less than three days until he has to make a choice.

There’s been a solution sitting in the back of his mind for a while now. And it makes his stomach churn and jump and he feels sick and scared when he thinks about going through with it but it’s beginning to look a lot like his only option. The only way to stay neutral in a final act of defiance. If he does this, nobody will get hurt.

Inko was right. He is like a puppy. Too loyal for his own good. Willing to do anything for anyone who shows him even the tiniest sliver of kindness, no matter how bad they are to him. It’s funny. He begins to laugh quietly, not wanting to wake anyone up. Everything she said turned out to be true. Maybe if she hadn’t said it to begin with, it wouldn’t be happening.

No matter how he thinks through it someone has to die. It’s unavoidable. Aizawa or Tomura? Both? Every path ends with somebody dying. But there’s another way.

The sun shines through his barred window, a muted yellow that illuminates his hair, making it look like a halo.

There’s really only ever been one option for him.

Death.

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Izuku falls apart, he breaks and crashes to the ground, tears falling out of his eyes dropping to the ground as his face morphs into a silent scream of grief.

He’s just like a robot that’s been taken apart and put back together so many times that it self destructed and left behind a smoking pile of remains, still crackling with electricity.

It takes him several hours to come to terms with his fate. And even then, he’s terrified and he doesn’t want to die. He doesn’t- He’s never wanted this. Maybe- just maybe, there’s another way out. Maybe he can stay afloat just for a bit longer.

Well, if he’s dying. Might as well go out with a bang.

The fifteen year old is running on less than four hours of sleep but he has things to do. After all, nothing can ever be that easy for him. The only way this will work is if they know he’s dead, or going to be dead. He’s got to win over the public too. Make it look like the heroes’ fault. If Tomura gets free he’ll make the League release Aizawa because he’ll be mourning Izuku.

There’s an ache in his chest when he thinks about how he’ll be making Tomura and Aizawa sad but there’s no other way. In order for them to live and be free like he never was, he has to do this.

It's all so loud- everything is so loud and his brain just won't be quiet and it's going to quickly his head is starting to hurt. He doesn't want this. He doesn't want to do this. He's scared. Someone please help this poor child with a brain to big for his quirkless, useless body. He's just being selfish, everyone's always known he'd be better off dead.

"SHUT UP" The freckled teenager screams. His head still hurts and the voices still race through his mind but they're nothing but a hushed whisper now. He slaps a hand to his mouth, how could he have been so dumb? They're gonna think he's suspicious or crazy now! They wouldn't be wrong but- what if they think he's hurt.

Nobody comes.

Nobody acknowledges the scream.

He slumps down on the floor and wonders if he's just doing it for attention because he must be. He wanted somebody to notice and help him. He just wants attention.

This is probably the right thing to do.

Clicking his pen repeatedly, Izuku writes down his plans in his notebook. It’s a bit depressing really. Planning out your own suicide in a notebook that’s labeled ‘Hero Analysis for the Future’.

He’s not very keen on the idea of livestreaming his own suicide. That’s not something he’ll give anyone the satisfaction of seeing. It’s got to be a public death though. Maybe not in the middle of a crowd or anything, but someone has to be able to find his body.

How should he do it? Feeling strangely numb and apathetic, the freckled boy writes out possible ways to kill himself. Should he hang himself? No, no matter how poetic that sounds, suffocating isn’t really the way he wants to go. Too drawn out and painful. Not bloody enough.

He could slit his wrists? No, it takes too long to bleed out and it’s just overdone at this point. The same goes for an overdose. Not bloody enough in that case, but also just too easy. Someone might find him early and bring him to the hospital and save him. Izuku crosses that option out.

No, it needs to be an instant death. So when they find the body, there’s no hope. If he’s dead they’ll have no reason to keep their hostages, right? Sure, the heroes might try to justify keeping Tomura but no doubt they’ll suffer so much criticism that they’ll either be forced to release the villain or just have to wait for an attack to come and save the scarlet eyed man.

What if he shot himself? Maybe, that would be quite the scene. A bullet through his head because his brain caused so many problems he won’t let them take him whole. But wouldn’t that be more suited to a livestream? And what if he didn’t shoot it right? He’s not very skilled with pistols. They might revive him even then. He can’t take that risk.

He could get hit by a train. Actually, no, not public enough, overdone as well. He might survive still. It seems that for a universe that is forcing him to kill himself, it tries very hard to keep him alive. After crossing out the method he looks to the bottom of the page and solemn eyes fall on his last choice.

”Go take a swan dive off the roof.”

Izuku’s arm begins to feel hot, the burn scars from his childhood friend’s quirk feel like they’re on fire. Kacchan has always been right in his eyes after all. How poetic.

Jumping off a roof. Yes. As long as it’s high enough he’ll be nothing more than a splatter on the pavement. A fall from a 100 foot tall building has a 100% mortality rate. A few places come to mind. It works perfectly. Public enough that someone will find him and they’ll know he’s dead and they’ll know he killed himself because of this. Yes, this will do nicely.

He would jump off of the roof of UA, but that sounds just a bit too biased, he can’t jump off of the league hideout either, it’s not tall enough. The freckled genius racks through his brain for buildings that would give the biggest impact on the media.

A seven story drop, icy wind whipping through his hair as he stares down at a child, legs swinging childishly over the edge, bright eyes meeting his own, blood dripping down pale legs and falling to the ground.

It’s only seven stories but the ground below is hard and it’s taller than it seems. He almost did it once before. It will be a nice trip down memory lane, he supposes. Hopefully there won’t be any children there to witness it.

His elementary school. It’s on the outskirts of the city, almost the same exact distance from both UA and the hideout. The elated feeling of satisfaction at finding the correct answer fades away and in its place, dread blooms in his gut.

A broadcast. Hack into the news channel and broadcast a video. What would work best? He shouldn’t say he’s going to kill himself if they make him choose. No, that would be too easy. Then everyone would be out to get him and in the end they’d still make him choose. They’d lie and say they were saving him. Both sides won’t tell the truth. It’s just an empty threat after all. No. It can’t be that easy, can it? It has to be something that haunts you. He’s not quite sure what that is but-

He’ll air it tonight.

The sky is blue and crisp, white, fluffy clouds float slowly through the sky, people bustle about in their jobs and schools. The air is peaceful considering the announcement from the HPSC just a day or two ago.

An anticipatory feeling thrums through his veins as he slips out of the hideout with a chessboard and his iphone in hand and walks deeper into the bad side of town where you bring the body where you murder somebody because it’s a place even the heroes and police won’t go.

This is it.

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“Hi, this is Midoriya Izuku reporting to you from the slums of Musutafu, Japan. Today is going to be a cloudy day with a fifty percent chance of rain so make sure to salt your sidewalks!” He greets cheerfully, not being able to resist making a bitter joke.

It’s actually different from his plan. Turns out the television stations are better protected than he thought so the only way to broadcast under the alias of an emergency is to livestream it. It’s annoying but Izuku respects the hustle.

Having started the broadcast and told them his approximate location, the police should be arriving fairly soon, in a world less corrupt than this one. He knows they won’t come. Instead the cowards will send heroes to the place that they never patrol but needs them most. Maybe All Might will show up. That would be troublesome. Loathe the man as he may, the number one hero is the pillar of this decaying society.

A small, old phone gifted to him by Aizawa nearly a year ago now is propped up against an empty beer can. Inside the frame of the video is Izuku’s upper half and a chessboard that’s sitting prettily on top of a pile of bricks. He’s leaning against a plaster building that’s got stains of various substances he’s grown numb to at this point, and the air is murky with cigarette smoke and teargas.

It’s a narrow alleyway and there’s a dumpster not more than ten feet away from him, buzzing with flies and no doubt housing at least three decaying bodies, but what Izuku can’t see won’t hurt him.

Miles away the television provider building is in a panic, typing furiously on their computers to try and shut down the screening. Their mouses won’t move and it’s like playing a game they can’t win and it’s nearly hopeless to even try. The only thing they can do now is wait for the times broadcast to end itself in 90 seconds. Nothing can really happen in just 90 seconds, right?

“Do you know where I am?” He questions in an innocent voice, eyes wide and unsettlingly expressionless. On the other side of the screen Tsukauchi and Nedzu feel a shiver go up their spines as the stoat runs his program to track the phone as quickly as he can.

“I’m sitting in an alleyway on…” He leans out of frame to check the bent road sign briefly, “Gappori Street. Come and get me! Oh, hurry up now, it’s right next to the river and the yakuza headquarters. You know about that, don’t you?” His green eyes seem sharp and piercing as the police station goes still. He’s right. They do know about it.

“It’s the side of town that you abandoned because it wasn’t pretty to look at. You left it to rot in the hopes that it may disappear or forget and then you were surprised that the children here grew up to be villains. That’s a bit skewed, don’t you think? Do you know I’ve never seen a single hero patrol here?” Hawks stares at the television tensely, wings itching to fly down there and pick up the teen but knowing better. It’s common sense. He’s been given direct orders to never go downtown.

“You know, when I was a kid, I thought heroes were good and they never killed villains because that was bad. And only villains were bad.” It’s like he can hear the noise of the idolization of hero society crumbling to pieces with every word he speaks.

“I guess I was wrong.” Izuku looks tired as he stares at the camera, mask in place and just as expressionless as always. Inside the teenager’s aching head he’s screaming and crying and begging himself to just apologise and take it back because maybe it’s not too late. Maybe he can scrape by and survive like he always has. But he can’t take it back now. His fate is sealed.

The world watches with bated breath, silent, not daring to make a noise as the quirkless boy leans forward and toys thoughtlessly with a pawn on a wooden chessboard. One side is full of black pieces. The other, white. In the middle is a gray king. A hand flicks the piece over lazily, and watches as it wobbles precariously and spins in circles in a desperate attempt to stay upright.

“Checkmate.”

The king falls.

Izuku thinks it suits him.

Chapter 20

Chapter Text

Act I - Denial

Izuku snatches up the phone he used to livestream the video and packs up the chess set with flourish, like a magician performing a great trick. It will be awhile until anyone comes here. The police are nothing but glorified cowards and the heroes will request a raise in their pay before even considering entering the slums of Musutafu.

The fifteen year old smashes the phone in his grip, careful to make the blood drip down his arm and not onto the pavement. The glass shards imbed themselves in his palm. He barely flinches.

It’s February 2nd, 7:19 pm. The weather is sunny and bright and the sky is blue and unblemished by puffy clouds. It’s deceivingly similar to a summer day. But the ice on the roads and the chill of the whistling winds remind everyone that it is winter still.

The greenette strolls casually down the road, dumping the remains of his phone into the river so that if they do find it, the phone will be the least of their concerns, with the abundance of dead bodies that float on the surface, decaying slowly but surely in plain sight. The chess set rattles with every step he takes and Izuku opens it up and drops each piece into the murky water relishing the noise they make as they sink to the bottom. The board goes last, making a loud splash far away where it was flung by the freckled genius with a salute of goodbye.

He waltzes into a gas station and ignores the blatant stares he gets from the cash register and someone wearing a pair of pantyhose over their head, holding a gun, clearly about to rob the store but trying to work up the courage to do so. The quirkless teen ignores them. They are in no place to judge him.

Without paying, thanks to the distraction of the armed robbery now occurring that Izuku hasn’t the time nor care to deal with, he walks out of the shop with a rustling plastic bag that he tosses into an overflowing trash can that reeks suspiciously of blood and sits next to a yakuza hideout without much grace.

The pungent smell of cheap alcohol fills his nostrils and he grits his teeth as he pours it over his wound, using his shaking fingers to remove the shards of glass. Cheap bandages soon constrict his hand and they feel tight and suffocating but it’s not like it matters when he’s going to be dead soon anyways.

Thrumming engines sound from afar and Izuku knows it’s time to run. Nobody here owns a car, they all know better. The most you’ll hear is a squeaky bicycle or scooter, and sometimes the occasional motorcycle of the boyfriend of a man with a paralyzing quirk that everyone’s too scared of to mess with.

Surely enough, an array of sleek black cars with simplistic logos representing the companies of the pro heroes race past his perch and towards the street where he set up the livestream. They don’t even spare him a glance. But then again, Izuku’s always been too plain for his own good.

With hunched shoulders and hands stubbornly stuffed inside the pocket of his grey sweatshirt, Izuku trudges away, out of reach, before they search the area. He ambles around, wandering aimlessly through the slums, knowing them like the back of his hand. Flaunting the hero’s own mistake of not patrolling the bad side of town like a peaco*ck does his magnificent feathers.

He doesn’t want to die. He won’t die. He can’t die. Nothing feels real anymore.

The sun has long since set and the darkness of dusk has set in like usual. Just less than two days are left until the deadline. Izuku comes across a pothole and looks at it curiously. They won’t find him. Not when he’s hiding.

Not when he doesn’t want to be found.

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Tsukauchi watches the television screen with rapt attention. His quirk is at the front of his mind as he writes down every word the boy speaks and whether or not it is true.

He feels a sinking feeling in his gut as his quirk registers every word as the complete truth.

The detective orders a group of policemen drive down to the source immediately and is appalled when denied. The higher ups refuse to let them go down to the slums. The whole system is corrupt. He can’t change anything.

But what did the boy mean? What was the purpose? He’s not got the brain capacity to analyse and decode the messages hidden in the broadcast but there’s an itch in the back of his mind that tells him something bad is going to happen and he can’t do anything but sit back and watch.

The human lie detector leans back in his chair with a groan as he recalls his first ever conversation with the boy he could never forget if he tried. It’s stuck with him. From the moment he met the kid, he knew he would change history. He knew that Midoriya would be important and he was brilliant and different and special and he knew that it was going to end badly.

He opens the report from Toshinori in his email and curses. They went to the alley and searched the whole area but he was gone. Nothing was there except a dumpster full of bodies that was graciously overlooked. There was no evidence he was ever there. It was as if they were looking for a ghost.

But he had dismissed it naively, instead wishing he would never have to meet the boy again. The interrogation had left him more tired than any other, what, with the weaving of roundabout truths wound together by the teenager. Tsukauchi rewatches the video for what must be the tenth time, and wishes he was able to save Midoriya Izuku.

%

Twice stares at the monitor with a bored expression on his face. It’s confusing really, he’s never been smart and he won’t bother to try and match the genius of the boy. He’s in an odd position right now. The villain has never been close to the teenager and hasn’t really made an effort but he liked him well enough. Sure, he was a bit dismayed when Izuku rejected the leader but it didn’t really warrant the reaction he got or the choice the rest of them gave him.

Though, he supposes that he didn’t really interfere because he didn’t see the harm in getting a new member who had connections and would give them the advantage.

Izuku should just be a villain and help them out. Izuku should be a hero and get Tomura out. Izuku listened to his troubles and understood. Izuku never talked to him and he didn’t really know him at all.

His brain keeps on contradicting himself to the point where he can’t even tell what he believes in.

The curly haired kid knocks down a chess piece and Twice smiles behind his mask. How poetic. Izuku had always told them about his mostly one sided games with Nedzu and when challenged, proceeded to demolish his opponent without fail each time.

The bar is silent. Something that was rare before Tomura got captured by the heroes and Izuku was forced to make a choice.

His normally joking and over the top personality is dulled, he hadn’t really been himself ever since the petite genius had befriended Tomura and made the man fall for him in the process. Jin had never been able to make up his mind about what he thought of the teen.

Checkmate. The greenette had said. Normally one says that when they win a game and corner the other player so there’s no way to escape. Except he had knocked down a grey king in the middle. He hadn’t knocked down white or black’s so which side had won? Which side had lost? Did they both win? He didn’t know that there were three kings on a chessboard.

Izuku won. That’s what he meant. He knocked down the king and said checkmate. He surely won.

Izuku lost. That’s not what he meant. He didn’t knock down either king and said checkmate but only one piece had fallen. He surely lost.

Both sides won. Both sides lost.

He’s not really sure what’s right and what’s wrong but one thing’s for sure.

The grey king lost.

%

The classroom is silent. Their substitute had hurried out of the room for an emergency faculty meeting as soon as the broadcast started. Every single student sits in their seat without a word. There’s no way. Izuku isn’t a villain. Izuku isn’t a hero. It’s confusing. That just doesn’t happen to a person as different as him.

Tokoyami slams his fist on his desk and everyone jumps in surprise. Their cool, apathetic classmate had been close to their teacher but the bird headed boy wasn’t one for displays of emotion. Dark Shadow wrapped themselves around the student protectively.

He has to keep a hold on his emotions, the classroom is bright, the sun is out. He doesn’t have to worry. It’s not dark outside. He can’t lose control of Dark Shadow. But it’s there. A crack. Anger and frustration and betrayal and sadness and guilt and fear and worry consume him. It’s his fault. He shouldn’t have fought him. He shouldn’t have put him in this position. He should’ve stood by his friend. But Izuku looked like a villain in that moment and he reacted.

Uraraka stares stubbornly at her desk, eyebrows furrowed and deep in thought. Izuku is-was her friend. She should’ve seen the signs. She should’ve seen. She should’ve watched and analysed him like she knew he did her. But he was always smiling and he always looked happy and fine and perfectly sane. What happened? Was any of it real? Was it all a lie?

Shinsou lets his jaw go slack. He’d always been called a villain but Izuku is quirkless. He had an evil quirk. Izuku had nothing. He is statistically supposed to become a villain. Izuku is statistically supposed to be dead. But there’s no way. Izuku won’t do that. Izuku survives. He’s skilled and smart. He’ll make the right choice to be a hero and they can defy expectations together like they’re supposed to.

His seat in this classroom is thanks to the greenette. Izuku can’t die. He won’t. Shinsou doesn’t even know why he considered that to be an option. He should relax. His friend is smart, they need him so they can keep him safe and he can prove everyone wrong.

Yaoyorozu calculates the possibilities. The only choice the heroes currently know of is their own. But what if there’s more to it? What if Midoriya has to make a choice with the villains too? The possibilities are endless. Surely, the genius will make the right one. She resolutely ignores the fact that all the choices she can think of end badly for him.

The classroom erupts into murmurs as the silence is broken. They gossip and joke and debate on what Izuku is doing or what he should do. A lurking shadow looms over them, they use denial and choose to be oblivious in a desperate attempt to ignore it.

Bakugou sits in his chair, head hung low, and doesn’t say a word.

%

Kurogiri polishes the glass, looking like a picture of elegance and nonchalance. But his hands are shaking and his warp gates waver, absorbing stray specks of dust and a cheap wine glass Twice bought him for a gift exchange in December.

He’d done nothing wrong. He did what he was made to do. He informed the League on information that they would need. He told them a possible course of action that would give them a good result, he even let the boy choose which one to do with the assurance that they would come out triumphant even though one choice was more obvious.

So why does he feel so guilty?

Kurogiri was only doing his job.

The bar is silent and the noumu with a brain’s hands itch to make himself or anyone a drink but nobody says a word, all of them stewing in their own thoughts. Sensei trained him better than to drink in front of those above him. And they’re human. Humans are better. He isn’t human anymore. He’s just a tool. Everyone in this room is above him.

Toga is the first to get up, abruptly standing up out of the mounted barstool instead of spinning around playfully and hopping off with a grin. She walks calmly out of the room, face guarded and blank and almost frowning. Not that cute smile and wide eyes that he’s grown so used to.

Dabi goes next, itching at his scars that spark and begin to glow with blue flame. Kurogiri ignores the smell of burning flesh that accompanies the Todoroki’s quirk. Two consecutive slams are heard just minutes later. They must’ve talked about it before going to their rooms.

Twice seems to be deep in thought and looks like he’s arguing with himself per usual. The glowing yellow eyed villain watches the middle aged man attentively for a second before looking away and putting up the glass he’s been polishing.

He reaches down for another and finds empty space. It was the last one.

Kurogiri feels sort of helpless, useless, in that moment, not really knowing what to do with himself. It’s been many years since he succumbed to the emptiness that is sleep.

So he walks out from behind the bar and into the hallway. At one end is the room that the boy had stayed in during his time here. He warps into the bedroom that was once used for torture.

If Kurogiri could grimace, he would. The floor boards are stained red and the mattress isn’t much better off. They had tried their best but he wonders what Midoriya, a boy who never wanted to be a villain, thought of it.

The window catches his eye. It used to be barred. It used to feel like a cage. He would know. Before this room was used to house the teenager it was a room of blinding pain, where subjects were tied to the bedframe and mutated. He’s spent a long time in this room.

The bars are bent now, so you can see outside and the sun stream in without stripes of shadows. Did the boy do this himself? Greed floods his vision as he wonders just how strong Midoriya is.

Regret grounds him. They always knew the greenette was too kind to be a villain. Perhaps he will become a hero after all. He warps back outside into the hallway. At the other end is a door, behind which is a long haired underground hero with a quirk Sensei would’ve killed for.

The one Midoriya attacked him for. Burning green eyes appear in his vision. The quirkless boy had looked nearly feral in that moment. Kurogiri began to understand how dangerous and passionate he was at that very moment.

That was just yesterday. Admittedly, he had forgotten to feed the man and that was his fault. He needs to give him food today too. What is he going to say? Should he just ignore him and leave like usual? Or does he owe it to the man to inform him on the situation? There's a computer in that room. Perhaps he could show it to the hero and gain information.

Yes, that’s what he’ll do.

He owes it to Midoriya.

%

Mei watches the screen with dull eyes. It’s odd to see on her golden eyes that are always bright and sparkling and mischievous and plotting. She hasn’t been able to create anything since Izuku left.

Was it her fault? Could she have done more? Was she not good enough? Was she not enough? Could she have saved him?

The pencil in her hand snaps and she absently realizes she must’ve done that. The pink haired girl rolls up the blank paper for the seventh day in a row. How long has it been since she’s had a good idea?

Nothing feels right anymore.

She watches the screen again. It’s broken and scorched and glitching as a result of so many projects exploding.

Izuku looks so tired.

The support student doesn’t like what she sees in his eyes. She’s never seen it before and she doesn’t really want to see it again. He looks resigned.

Is this really her Izuku?

She has to find him, she has to save him. He’s her friend.

Can she find him? Can she save him? Is he her friend?

Does Izuku want to be found?

Does Izuku want to be saved?

Maybe he doesn’t need to be saved. Maybe he doesn’t need to be found.

Izuku is smart. He’s so so so smart and he’s the most clever person she’s ever met. His brain is strong and he can do anything he puts his mind to.

He’ll be fine.

Mei stares at an unfinished project the freckled teenager designed himself blankly.

Without realising it, she’s already started to mourn.

%

Dabi doesn’t look at the screen. He doesn’t want to. He won’t. He knows what he’ll see and it’s not something he’s very keen on witnessing.

He feels like setting something on fire as the greenette’s twisted words ramble through the screen. Everything Izuku says is true and he agrees with it but for some reason it seems just as much about the villains as it does the heroes. As if the boy is implying that neither the heroes nor the villains are truly good.

Toga abruptly stands up as the boy says checkmate and Touya watches her go with a concerned look. What’s she in such a huff about? It’s not an ideal situation but all they have to do is find Izuku and apologise for being bad friends and make up with him. Then they’ll all be villains and they can get Tomura back and be a family again.

They can be the family he’s never had.

So he stands up and goes after the blonde, standing over her in front of their neighboring doors. He grins at her and she gives him a solemn grimace that puts him off guard. The black (technically white) haired man wraps her in a hug when tears drip out of her eyes. She doesn’t move as he pulls her close and she continues to cry, not shaking, uncontrollable sobs. She’s perfectly still.

Dabi feels worry pool in his gut. She’s seeing something that he hasn’t thought of, isn’t she?

“What’s wrong, Toga?” He lets her look up at him and tries not to show how off putting the numb, blank expression is on her face.

“It’s our fault.” Is all she says, curling her hands into fists and tilting her head back down, staring resolutely at the ground with so much venom in her golden eyes it looks like it stings.

She doesn’t say much else and they stand in front of each other, no longer holding each other close because they know it’s not going to help either of them feel better.

And finally, after what feels like hours they shut the doors to their rooms. He can hear her jump onto her bed but there are no screams and it’s oddly silent.

The League needs Izuku. He’s got the brains and the skill and muscle to do anything he wants to. And the little genius has information that’s invaluable to them. As long as the heroes don’t get to him first, they can convince him to join the League.

A flash of dull green eyes that looked panicked and sad and scared and confused instead of bright and happy and full of humour and free, appear in his vision.

He ponders over Toga’s words. It’s their fault, huh?

What’s their fault?

Nothing has happened yet.

They can still save him.

What are they saving him from?

Dabi doesn’t want to answer the question.

%

Hawks sits tensely in his pathetic luxury chair in front of his pathetic wide screen television, inside his pathetic penthouse apartment that’s empty and has no charm because he’s never bothered to personalise it. On the screen is priority number one, Midoriya Izuku. Child genius, prodigy, business student, wanted criminal, missing teenager, and quirkless.

‘They’re going to turn him into a child soldier and call him a hero.’ A nasty voice sings in his ear. ‘Just like you.’ it continues in a seductive tone full of glee. He stands up and clenches his fists, wanting to scream but he knows better. He’s been taught better. He’s been trained to be better than this.

What happened?

The winged man has always felt as if his life isn’t his own. He has no control and he’s just watching, obeying, walking, talking, smiling, pretending, killing, hurting, and saving.

Waiting.

For what?

What is he waiting for?

There’s a thunk from the speakers of his television and suddenly he’s absorbed in the presence of Midoriya Izuku. His green eyes and his green hair and his freckled face and his petite stature and his marvelous brain and kind heart.

But he looks tired.

It makes him ache all over, like he’s breaking from the inside out, fracturing and snapping all his bones because he deserves the pain Midoriya is feeling. He needs to go down and see him and he needs to talk to him and listen and try to help and do anything, anything at all but watch and wait.

He knows it’s too late.

He pushes away the very thought of not being able to help the kid when that’s his job. He’s a hero, goddammit.

The quirkless boy has always been too kind for his own good. It didn’t take much for the heroes and villains to take advantage of that, though. He opens his window and scouts the city for any sign of curly green hair and red tennis shoes.

Midoriya can’t die.

He won’t.

He’s smarter than that.

Without even knowing it, yet another hero begins to think of Izuku Midoriya as an object, or an adult, a villain, a robot, something perfect that can’t make a mistake. Instead of a scared child who’s only ever wanted to survive.

Midoriya won’t do it.

Why else would he post the live stream unless he was going to do it, though?

Hawks wishes his brain would shut up.

Is this what Izuku’s brain sounds like, but quieter?

Maybe he was trying to trick everyone, like a false trail.

That has to be what’s going on.

Keigo doesn’t know what he’ll do if the teenager does it.

He feels sad all of a sudden.

Who will read to the children?

%

Toga plays the conversation with Dabi over and over in her head. She plays the video of Izuku over and over in her head. She plays everything she’s ever said to the boy over in her head.

It’s her fault.

She had promised him she’d never betray him, and she’d always be on his side.

Well, she guesses everyone had been right about her after all. She is a villain.

Liar.

The blonde desperately tries to ignore the fact that Izuku is probably going to do something that will hurt him more than anyone else and it’s going to be her fault.

What can she do about it after all?

Why does he always have to be so cryptic? She mourns her lost friend and tries to shrug off the tickle of warmth on her shoulder where the greenette always used to rest his head when they stayed up too late playing video games and watching Dabi and Tomura bicker, subsequently destroying at least ten controllers before Kurogiri refused to steal them more through warps. Causing the two to pout angrily while aggressively playing mario kart until the wee hours of morning.

They had been so happy. And then Tomura was captured. Still, to her dismay, she feels a spark of anger at Izuku because this is his fault and if he hadn’t-

That’s not true. Even if Izuku had been able to love Tomura back, their leader would’ve taken a bullet for the boy. You can’t control who you love and who you don’t after all.

She pulls bobby pin after bobby pin out of her hair, setting them in a pile on her nightstand with a sigh of relief as her hair tumbles down her back and her scalp tingles as the feeling of being free and loose as opposed to pulled tight into her matching buns.

Toga wishes Izuku were there and everything was all right and he’d braid her hair while chatting animatedly about something she didn’t really care about but liked listening anyways. The hideout doesn’t feel warm anymore. Not without Izuku. He was her friend. Her brother.

He was family.

The young villain conjures up an image of Izuku covered in hot, red, blood, drying up and crusting in his curly hair, turning a darker brown. Instead of the glee and hunger she would’ve felt if this was anyone else. She doesn’t think he looks pretty or cute or appetizing.

It makes her feel sick to her stomach.

She tries not to think about how the vision is a bit too close to reality than she would like.

The stars twinkle in the clear night sky and fog forms on her windows from the difference in temperature.

It makes her feel awfully alone and insignificant.

Maybe it makes Izuku feel free and normal for once.

But she hates it.

Because the stars remind her of freckles and sparkling eyes and bright smiles and the softness in his face when he’d sit on the roof and stare up at the sky with closed eyes. Because he looked so carefree and calm and at ease and happy and content in those moments. Because it looked like he thought he could fly in those moments and he could do anything he wanted to without a second thought about anyone who might care about him. Because he felt free and he would leave her behind. Because she saw the way he sat on the edge of the roof without a care in the world, a longing smile on his face the whole time. Because he was so scared of death and yet it had always called to him as if it were meant just for the quirkless teenager.

It scares Toga.

%

Nedzu replays the video for what must be the twentieth time at this point. He’s known for a long time that Midoriya is smarter than him but damn if he’s not going to try his very best.

He’d tracked down the signal of the phone the ex UA student had been using and sent their best heroes for the job but the quirked animal knows they won’t find him. The stoat feels little remorse for the clear ignorance of how they plan to save Eraserhead. Currently the underground hero is not a priority.

Despite how much of an emotional, almost paternal role the long haired man plays in the boy’s life, and the potential for weaponizing their relationship, he doesn’t think that will be necessary. Endeavor, the number two hero despite having an awful temper, a sh*tty personality, not really being much of a looker, and having more civilian casualties than most villains, has proved brute force is the most effective method.

And afterall, Aizawa’s quirk is erasing other’s quirks. Izuku, the man of the hour, happens to be a person without one in his possession, rendering the man almost useless in professional terms.

Nedzu is also not keen on attempting to manipulate the child with how he’s seen him react towards the very idea of it in the past. He’s a master at it but there’s no way even the principal of UA can pull this off without Izuku knowing his every move. It reminds him of a game of chess.

The petite genius’ ‘checkmate’ rings in his ears as the video loops over and over.

Now, it really isn’t a good situation for the albino. Midoriya blatantly dissed hero society and became a poster child example of someone failed by a corrupt system. The public will not be in their favour anymore.

But he’d also not specified whether or not he was talking about heroes or villains, save for the comment he made at the end. Had the villains made a similar offer? Why is this not a simple choice for the teenager?

A porcelain teacup clatters to the ground, shattering into a million pieces.

He’d made a mistake.

He had been wrong.

%

Tomura wishes they hadn’t decided to take pity on him and try and ease his boredom by installing a television on the wall. He’d rather remain blissfully unaware of the situation at hand.

He’d known of the heroes trying to recruit Izuku for his brain and information on the League in exchange for his own freedom. It made him angry. He’d sacrificed himself for the younger and he wasn’t planning on getting paid back. All he’s ever wanted is for Izuku to be happy.

He wants Izuku to be free.

The boy can’t do that with the villains, that much is clear. And he certainly can’t do it with the heroes. He saw the way life seemed to drain away from the shorter’s eyes the longer he stayed with the League and how he looked appalled and nauseous at the notion of going back to the heroes.

Because Izuku is his own person.

The freckled teenager just doesn’t want to be a hero. That doesn’t automatically make him a villain. Why can’t either side see that?

Most likely, he’d want to live his life out to the fullest and try to seek out someone able to match his abilities in a desperate attempt to feel normal. He’d work something out and live a happy fulfilling life as a civilian, neither aiding nor hindering the villains or heroes but still remaining in both of their good graces.

An unrealistic dream of course, but if anyone could pull it off, it’s Izuku.

Though perhaps Izuku couldn’t fix this one. His dreams of being a civilian are crushed now. Hero or Villain. It’s plainly clear from the little he’d seen of the livestream before an intern guard had quickly come and turned it off, that the League decided to be little dimwits and give him a choice as well, probably with similar conditions to the heroes.

Tomura knows who they’re using.

Someone who matters to Izuku as much as himself.

Eraserhead. Shouta Aizawa. A hero.

Or him.

Shigaraki Tomura. Tenko Shimura. A villain.

If the blue haired man had learned of someone who mattered as much, if not more, at the time, as himself, he would’ve been overridden with jealousy and rage and most likely attempted to kill the man without letting Izuku know it was him.

Now he just lets out a sigh. If anything, it proves Izuku cares about him more now. Months ago, the greenette would’ve chosen Eraserhead in an instant. And sure, there’s probably some sort of guilt or obligation leaving him biased but it’s okay.

Midoriya Izuku doesn’t love him back. He’s come to terms with it. He’s not mad or upset. He’s a bit sad and slightly embarrassed but he’s not mad at Izuku. He would never be mad at Izuku.

And Tomura will keep loving Izuku no matter how hard he tries. It will never work out but it’s okay. He’ll try to move on and apologise to the younger for making him uncomfortable and putting him in this position. One day it will all work out.

But regret still gnaws at his brain when he thinks that if he had just kept his mouth shut then Izuku wouldn’t be in this position. Izuku would eventually choose Aizawa over him and he’s fine with that choice. He doesn’t care what the shorter chooses.

He just wants to see him happy.

And if the quirkless teen chose him, he’d be lost. Izuku would be forced to fight him and that would be a mess. He’d rather be in jail. To be honest, the villain is so head over heels he’d most likely just surrender or try and break him out.

But he’d also see Izuku sad and hating himself and guilty and so so dull and numb. The heroes have so many rules it would suffocate him, they’re so judging and mean and uptight and sure with the villains he wouldn’t be free, but it’d be better than that. And he never wants to see that. So if he dies and Izuku has the comfort of the League members who will hopefully get their priorities straight and Eraserhead, he won’t be as sad. And sure he might be a little bit upset but at least Tomura won’t have to see it.

So he doesn’t really want Izuku to choose him.

The pasty, pale skinned man laughs bitterly. He deserves to pay for his crimes anyways. What was he thinking in the first place? A murderer, someone as evil and unloveable as him with someone as angelic as Izuku?

But that soft look in his eyes and the care and platonic love that went into every gesture had weakened him. It made him naive. But it was nice. It was warm. He’s fine with losing that if only for the brightness to come back to the little genius’ eyes.

The man cuffed into a chair, injected hourly with quirk suppressants, frowns slightly. From the way the heroes have been speaking about the situation, Tomura thinks they see Izuku more as an object rather than a human being. He cares about Izuku. He wants him to be free and happy and human and he’ll die trying to make sure the boy is cared for just as he cared for him once upon a time.

Izuku can’t die.

Tomura has too much to say to him.

Izuku is the kindest person he’s ever met.

What sort of God would do this to a child?

%

Aizawa narrows his eyes at the villain who is currently fiddling with an ancient looking television that’s shaped like a cardboard box. He can’t even ask what the hell he’s doing because everytime he finishes chewing the surprisingly tasty chicken and rice, he warps another spoonful into his mouth.

It’s humiliating, frankly.

But finally, the villain leaves and stops shoving food into his mouth every five seconds, the only evidence he was even here being the stray grains of rice sticking to his unshaven, stubby beard, as well as the blindingly bright light emitting from the television. He focuses on the small screen, noticing with surprise that it’s all black and white.

The news channel is covering a livestream that occurred just two hours ago. He sits up straighter, paying close attention. It must be important if the villain, Kurogari? Kurogiru? Kurogiri? Came in especially to turn on the television for him.

“We will now play back the illegal livestream at the request of the HPSC. Though they shouldn’t be supporting illegally hacking into the news station and proceeding to criticise society. He might’ve had a point though.” The news anchor mutters quietly. Aizawa leans forward as far as he can. What on earth could’ve happened?

“After this final showing of the livestream broadcasted by wanted, and missing child, Midoriya Izuku, we will go to the public and interview some law abiding civilians on their own opinions on the performance by Midoriya Izuku, who happens to be a quirkless 15 year old who somehow made it into UA. Tune in at 8:15, just ten minutes away, for a live reaction of the hero All Might!” She finally finishes talking and the screen shows a low quality, pixelated video, that may have been the television though.

The long haired erasure hero watches with careful eyes. He can’t let a single detail escape his attention. This is his problem child. He promised to protect him and trust him and be good to him and broke it.

After the 90 second clip ends and the reporters begin ‘analyzing’ the clip in ‘detail’- he scoffs, if Midoriya saw this he’d be appalled. And based off of the information he’s picked up from the news, the heroes must’ve given the boy a similar choice to make as the villains did.

He groans. Isn’t Nedzu supposed to be smart? But at the same time, he’s seen the way the principal of UA interacts with the teenager. It’s clear the animal will never quite understand how the human mind functions.

Nedzu- no all the heroes, and villains too. They’re just viewing him as an object, or a full grown adult. It’s as if he’s a pawn or a pretty little treasure chest. Everyone just wants the gold inside, not the chest itself. Except in this case this is a human child.

Izuku looked tired.

Not just in the sleep deprived way, though that likely contributed. He looked old. Older than a fifteen year old should look. He also looked sad, like he was mourning someone’s death.

Ah that’s right. It’s apparently between him and the League leader, Shigaraki.

Someone has to die.

Struggling to understand his own morals, Aizawa silently hopes the younger chooses the heroes. He doesn’t mind dying. They’ll get a talented hero who will do the right thing whenever he can. But he’s seen the miserable slump of the greenette’s shoulders when he was teaching 1-A.

Izuku just wants to be free.

He won’t be free with the villains but it’ll be damn close. But at the same time-

There’s no good choice.

Aizawa will understand no matter which one the boy chooses. He will understand. The underground hero deserves whatever fate he gets.

It’s unfair that the first year is so young and he has to make this choice when he’s really done nothing wrong. At least, nothing worth this sort of twisted fate. It’s unfair because Midoriya is so kind and he’s suffered so much in order to be free only to suffer some more.

The captured hero thinks of the warm couch, worn from years of use, dusts floating through the air lazily on a sunny autumn morning. He remembers how the beams of light from the window lit up the boy's hair like a glorious, glowing halo.

Izuku looked like an angel in that moment.

Ethereal, something that truly belongs only to the heavens, for the world is unworthy of it’s very presence.

Aizawa hates that it suits the child.

But he snaps from his delusion and there’s no more worn couch in a comfortingly warm apartment. It’s not raining and it’s not fall. And there’s no sun to be seen in the vast night sky.

And there’s no Izuku.

%

An uneasy blanket of darkness falls over Musutafu. It does not bring the usual sleep that accompanies night. Nobody dares close their eyes for more than a second, the world quivers in a mixture of dread, guilt, sadness, and anticipation.

One more day.

%

%

%

Act II - Anger

Izuku is gone. He’s simply not there.

It’s as if he’s dropped off the face of the Earth.

The pale, purple hues of dawn accompany the glow of the calm morning sun. And it feels oddly soothing and the sky is far too at ease when there is only one day left for Midoriya Izuku.

He has to make his choice by midnight.

But the boy is missing. Nobody can find him.

It sends both sides into a panic. The heroes broadcast the few blurry pictures they have of the greenette on the news broadcasts, plastering posters of the teenager on every available wall. While the villains sneak around town and gather information, trying to figure out where Midoriya was last seen and where he’s gone.

Nedzu frantically checks all of the security cameras in the city, eyes hungry and serious. He has to get the boy back. He’s valuable. Clearly, the genius will see that the smartest decision would be to become a hero and put his brain to work. The unfamiliar feeling of worry and regret feels like it’s slapping him. Of course, he misses his chess mate and his precious student is missing. Taking another sip of tea, Nedzu thinks that it would be a shame if the intelligent, witty, kind boy died.

Toga sits in the room of the boy who once upon a time, might’ve been her friend. She’s worried. Where is he? Is he okay? What if he’s hurt? If he’s hurt how will he help them save Tomura and fight on their side so they can help fix this corrupt society? Everything is numb with worry and she twitches every few seconds in an effort to stay calm and seated so she can stop pacing the floor like she’s been doing all night. The villain can only pray that the quirkless teen comes back and they can be a family again and show him that the hideout isn’t a cage, it’s a home.

Mei looks haggard. Her face is missing it’s famed crazed smile and that mischievous, intelligent glint in her eyes and her hair is a mess per usual but there’s no soot in it she just can’t seem to work up the motivation to get up and fix it. It’s a school day and she hasn’t slept a wink since Izuku broadcasted that weird message. Clearly, she’s not alone because the entire hero course has dark circles under their eyes and they look awfully weak and small without their teacher accompanying them. She sits at her station and ignores the pile of cold, half finished projects sitting beside her. Izuku has to be okay. He has to.

Dabi sets a house on fire. There’s something comforting in the way it sizzles into a glowing black and the bright sparks spit everywhere as if trying to escape the roaring flame. He thinks if he could show someone the emotional state of the city right now, this would be it. The act of arson is more of a beacon than a substitute for therapy. He walks away from the house and towards the famed hero school as if he has all the time in the world. The villain would rather Izuku have betrayed them than truly disappeared or died.

Hawks flies to the hideout, leaving his post in front of UA. He should be searching for the kid, not standing around doing nothing. He’s the number three hero goddammit! Red wings soar through the morning sky, he shivers as water vapor turns into droplets that rapidly freeze on his blonde hair and feathers. But the man doesn’t stop, he grits his teeth and keeps flying even though he can barely see through the rapidly thickening blanket of clouds. Fury keeps his body hot as he searches for the boy who’s already a hero in his eyes. Sharp eyes keep a lookout on the ground for any sign of the child he won’t let become a child soldier like him.

Kurogiri warps in and out of every building in Musutafu. He wishes he had multiple sets of eyes on every warp gate he creates. But his hard work is to no avail. Izuku Midoriya is truly gone from this world. If he’s hiding, if he doesn’t want to be found, he won’t be. But the wavering image of a man continues to search in every nook and cranny because he has to do something. If Tomura were here, they wouldn’t be having this problem. A surge of anger flares in his chest but he quickly represses it. They can’t blame Midoriya, it isn’t his fault, really. He tries to calm the worry muddling his mind and sighs when he reaches yet another dead end.

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There comes a moment when everyone simply seems to forget that Midoriya Izuku is a human, a child, someone scared and conflicted, and trapped in his own mind.

There comes a moment when everyone simply seems to forget that Midoriya Izuku has emotions and a will of his own.

There comes a moment when everyone simply sees him as a tool.

Nedzu snarls and bares his teeth slightly in a fit of frustration. If Aizawa were here, he’d tell him he’s having a hissy fit. The principal of the hero school has been searching for hours now. Where is Midoriya? Of course, his student may be smarter than him in many ways but honestly, he didn’t think it was this drastic. Maybe the boy’s being dramatic. Humans. If the greenette doesn’t show up soon, UA’s reputation will plummet! If Midoriya truly knows what’s best for him, he’ll choose the heroes. The stoat tenses his body as the urge to bite or smash something fills his body. He can’t allow the teenager to tear down everything he’s been working on for years. If they can’t find him - everything will be ruined.

Toga stabs a man who gets in her way. When she finds Izuku, she’ll make sure he gets Tomura back. He should feel horrible for doing that. It’s all his fault. Why did he leave the hideout when everything was perfectly fine? He’s always making problems for them and only thinking about himself. What about her? Has he thought about how she feels in all of this? Is she not good enough? The blonde teenager bites on her lip, drawing blood from the sharpness of her fangs, in an attempt to not shout at a woman blocking the entrance to a maintenance tunnel underneath the train tracks. She wants to scream at the world for making everything so complicated. She needs Izuku. He’ll fix it.

Mei throws a wrench into the wall. Nobody even bats an eye, they’re all too focused on their own projects. She buries her head in her arms and curses her eyes as they start to tear up. And it’s so frustrating because she’s angry and not sad and crying makes her look weak. She misses Izuku. If he were here she could have her partner in crime and business back. It’s all those villains’ fault. They took him. They made him leave. They messed everything up. It’s their fault for putting Izuku in the situation he’s in now. But it’s also the heroes’ fault. Aren’t they supposed to be good? Why are they forcing him to make this horrible decision? The support course student feels a ball of discomfort and doubt and undiluted anger forming in her stomach. It’s everyone’s fault.

Dabi burns down an entire neighborhood and then promptly sits in front of the gates of UA, waiting for Izuku to show his face so he can burn him until he’s nothing but a pile of scorched bones. That’s what he’ll get if he betrays the League. For a moment all the scarred man can think about is how outraged he’ll be if the greenette dares turn his back on them. What if he doesn’t? The eldest Todoroki child feels an old, well worn, frequently accessed tide of animosity towards hero society flood into his head and he feels his skin prickle with little flames that lick the stone wall he leans on. Of course, it’s what they do. Torture children, make them cry and hurt and angry. It’s revolting. He hates it. This is their fault. It always is.

Hawks flies to that grey building that feels like a cage, where they rescued him off the side of the road and brought him back to health even stronger than ever, but clipped his wings and told him not to sing.The number two hero storms up to the front office and demands a search party, an army of people to ward off the villains that caused this whole mess and search for the missing boy. And even though he gets what he asked for, the number three hero is angry at the heroes and the villains and everyone. But not Izuku, never Izuku. Tens of pro heroes gather within the hour and cover the city. And to Hawks’ ire, not a single one gets even close to the slums, leaving him to patrol the whole south side of the city, vast and dark and dirty, by himself.

Kurogiri looks up, it’s noon and the sun would be almost at its peak by now if it weren’t coated by grey clouds that cast a shadow over the buzzing city that suffers the bone deep chill that accompanies February 5. And to the warp quirked man’s exasperation, though they’ve been searching since dawn, there’s been no sign of the boy. He’s been everywhere except the part of town that seems to be under siege, so well guarded it must be a Yakuza meeting. So the man summons a crowd of low ranked villains, warping them all to the hideout and instructing them to search uptown, leaving the building to do the same. And beneath his calm demeanor he’s outraged that he’s not good enough to do such a simple task when this is what he was made for. He knows Midoriya is somewhere. Nobody can truly disappear.

%

The heroes assemble, barking orders at their interns to search the entire town, questioning civilians to see if they’ve any interaction with the missing child. The lot of them charm crowds with confident, bright smiles, resembling that of All Might. Only one hero ventures downtown while the rest parade around the north side of the city as if the kid is dumb enough to attempt to hide up there.

The villains assemble, hissing out whispers and exchanging information about the target they’ve been instructed to search for. A group of more discreet low level thugs go uptown to see if the green haired boy might be up there but they mainly scour the southside of the city. Several higher ups attempt to get into the Yakuza meeting but are denied entry. It’s quite doubtful he’s there anyways. But their efforts are to no avail as the clouds churn pensively, turning more and more dense and the day grows cooler.

The heroes are mad at the villains for messing it all up. Of course it’s their fault, they can't do anything right, if the other side had just not interfered they wouldn’t be in this predicament right now. The villains are mad at the heroes for disturbing the tentative peace. Why must they meddle and try to fix things that aren’t yet broken?

It all seems to happen in a split second. A brief moment of rage and indignation where both parties are distracted from their common goal. A low level villain who recently escaped the custody of a newly debuted, not very popular hero is strolling around shops near UA, trying to search for the plain looking boy without drawing much attention. The new hero is getting a coffee as he takes a break from his own half hearted search.

They spot each other and the animosity from their previous fight seems to cloud their eyes and they lunge at each other, quirks raging without any thought for civilian passerbys. And a patrolling Ingenium comes in to interfere, obviously taking the side of his fellow hero, angry at the villain for ‘attacking’ his comrade during times like this. Which in turn, prompts Dabi, who is camped out next to UA to come and try to diffuse the situation but getting so pissed off by Ingenium's clear superiority complex that he joins the fight.

Eventually the entire UA staff comes down to the burning coffee shop to assist the heroes, just as Kurogiri warps up all the villains previously searching the city to come and stand up to this injustice and arrogance demonstrated by the heroes. Toga relishes the chaos she causes by being a sort of spy, Endeavor struggles to control his flames as he faces his son he doesn’t recognise.

Class 1-A hears the commotion first, bored during their free period and spotting the burning row of buildings in the distance and rationalizing that they’re supposed to be heroes so of course they should help. Twice creates hundreds of clones that give the heroes a lot of trouble and causes their exasperation to rise. Everyone’s temper surges up in boiling hot waves, causing an inevitable need for release.

Nobody remembers the hostage inside UA who’s quirk suppressant injections are weakening and need to be replenished within the next ten minutes.

Nobody remembers the hostage inside the League’s hideout who’s been watching the News and is smart enough to see that they’ve left him alone.

A villain and a hero sit in their chairs, unsupervised.

A villain and a hero escape from their respective jails with only one thing on their mind.

Midoriya Izuku.

%

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Act III - Bargaining

Tomura knows something is wrong when nobody comes in to stab him with tranquilizer and quirk suppressants. The cancelling cuffs beep quietly to signal that the battery is out just as the pasty man’s skin begins to itch and flake again. It’s been hours since the last visit and the security camera is blinking red instead of green. He’s not sure what’s going on and he’s being brash and dumb but he has to get out, he has to help and save Izuku from making this decision. So, hoping for the best, he flexes his fingers and presses all five against his restraints.

Aizawa finally undoes the knot in the ropes that rub his wrists raw. It’s been two hours since he last heard anyone inside the hideout. And, he knows he’s being reckless but after seeing that video he just has to find Midoriya. So, the underground hero cautiously stands up from his chair and stretches out his stiff body with a low groan. He stays alert, listening for even the slightest noise as dread fills his body, what if they find him trying to escape? But, he has a goal in mind, and it’s the highest priority right now. So, hoping for the best, he picks the lock on the window and prays nobody bursts into the room.

Tomura curses as he glances around the corner, are there really no guards stationed? Not to sound stuck up, but he thinks himself quite the important villain that should be under constant surveillance. And it’s annoying really, he has to be cautious and it’s wasting time, he’s taking too long. What if he’s too late? Maybe he can strike an impromptu alliance with the heroes to try and get to the boy he’s in love with before something bad happens to him. And currently, though the leader of the League of Villains doesn’t realise it, he is one of two people in the entire city who truly cares about Midoriya Izuku.

Aizawa finally hears the telltale click of the lock failing and doesn’t waste time with a sigh of relief, instead, swings out of the room and jumps from the window onto the roof below. He’s going to be too late. What if he doesn’t get there on time? He’s worried about the boy. It’s clear that the kid’s going to do something stupid and be forced to scarifice himself. Aizawa needs to find him now. And show him he took the choice away so there’s no need for him to do anything he doesn’t want to now that he’s here. Maybe they can barter and convince the heroes to release that villain as well. He pushes his plans out of his mind. Right now, all he has to do is find the boy before he gets hurt. And currently, though the underground hero doesn’t realise it, he is one of two people in the entire city who truly sees Midoriya Izuku as a human and not a tool.

Tomura cares and Tomura worries and Tomura sees Izuku as a human and knows Izuku is only human. The greenette can only take so much. He has emotions and opinions of his own and he’s not a tool and he’s not invincible or a grown up. Izuku is a child who is scared and traumatised and sad and angry and confused. All Izuku’s ever wanted to be is normal. He’s not a genius, or an adult, or mean or anything bad. He’s not a hero or a villain. Tomura ruined it all by confessing and betraying him. Izuku’s just a boy who’s been watching his whole life, and as a result, has seen too much.

Aizawa cares and Aizawa worries and Aizawa sees Izuku as a human and knows Izuku is only human. He’s just a kid for f*cks sake. What the heroes were thinking by doing such a villainous thing, he’ll never know. Midoriya Izuku has never wanted to be different. He has never wanted to be a genius. He just wanted to be normal. He just wanted to survive. Aizawa ruined it all by throwing that away and betraying him. Izuku’s just a child who doesn’t want to die and wants to have what was taken away from him when he was diagnosed as quirkless.

Tomura knows Midoriya Izuku is a human with emotions and a warm smile and warm eyes and a bright mind and kind soul. Tomura knows Midoriya Izuku cares.

Aizawa knows Midoriya Izuku is a human with trauma and pent up anger and tears and small but warm hugs and a stone mask and kind soul. Aizawa knows Midoriya Izuku cares.

Because where Aizawa cared for Izuku, Tomura was cared for by Izuku.

And they care for the boy who is truly too kind for his own good.

They know what he’s going to do.

And they’ll do everything in their power to stop it.

They’ll bargain with Death herself if that’s what it comes to.

A hero and a villain race around town, sprinting down roads and jumping from roof to roof searching in every little nook and cranny, leaving no stone unturned. Aizawa comes from the south, seeking for a freckled quirkless boy in the slums. Tomura comes from the north, checking every clean, patrolled alleyway for the greenette, and avoiding heroes who don’t appear to have even noticed he’s gone.

And in between the south and north is a little coffee shop, just outside of the slums. And it’s crowded and it looks as if it’s smoking, small blue flames lick the wooden walls. Flashy hero costumes and discreet, casual villain outfits can be seen through the windows of the cafe.

Tomura sees clones made by Twice and hears the telltale cackle of Toga’s sing song voice resonate through the streets. His face hardens. What are they doing here? Fighting? Have they forgotten about the boy who is their family? Are they truly fighting heroes instead of searching and saving and apologising to Izuku? Are they that f*cking dumb?

Aizawa sees the flaming beard of Endeavor and hears the telltale roar of Present Mic’s voice resonate through the streets. His face hardens. What are they doing here? Aren’t they supposed to be heroes? Did they truly get caught up fighting and squabbling and showing off instead of saving a child who needs help? Are they that f*cking dumb?

Tomura tries to go and stop the fight, grabbing at a clone, and groaning when it turns into sludge. He can’t interfere and pull the League members out. It would draw too much attention and the heroes would interfere and recapture him and that wouldn’t be helpful in the slightest to Izuku. Izuku is more important than anything else right now.

Aizawa tries to help and stop the fight, walking towards his teacher friend, but being thrown back when a blast of sound hits him, forcing him to absorb the blow. The worst part is that the blonde doesn’t even seem to notice. He can’t do anything flashy like disable someone’s quirk. Then the warp gate villain would just warp him back to the hideout and that would make it impossible for him to help Izuku. Izuku is more important than anything else right now.

For a few moments, a hero and a villain with more pressing matters to deal with, watch heroes and villains, blinded by greed, unable to see that a genius is still a child, unable to see that they’re failing their mission. And they’ve all been so caught up in petty little rivalries and fights when nothing truly provoked them and they did this on their own, they don’t notice that they’ve failed. A hero and a villain watch before them with disgust.

Aizawa pries himself away from the fight, walking back into the slums, following his gut feeling and fuming at the sight of heroes acting like villains. He needs to save Izuku, whatever the boy is planning, it can’t be good. He needs to know he has someone on his side, someone who will help and support him and won’t ever betray him again. He needs to know he’s not alone. But he can’t find him. What if he’s gone forever? What if he saves a thousand people? Then will everything be fixed? Will Izuku be okay if he promises to never betray him again and to be a hero the greenette would be proud of? What if he becomes a villain instead? Will that save Izuku from the looming threat of meeting his fate?

Tomura stomps angrily down to the slums. He needs to save Izuku, the boy he’s in love with has always been too kind, too good for him, for the world. Something bad is going to happen, it’s going to break him. He needs to find Izuku, but it’s as if he’s dropped off the face of the Earth, he’s just gone. Tomura needs to apologise and promise he’ll do better. What if Izuku does the worst? What if he promises to turn himself in? In exchange for Izuku’s happiness and life? Will that save him? What if he never does another bad thing and falls out of love with Izuku? Maybe that will fix everything. It was his fault anyways. What if he believes in god again? Will that save Izuku from this feeling of doom blooming in his gut?

A hero and a villain run as quickly as they can southward. And ask every civilian they meet whether or not they’ve seen a small, plain looking boy. It’s as if Izuku is a ghost. Frantic, that’s the only word that can describe what Tomura and Aizawa are feeling right now. The sun has reached its peak and slowly lowers, falling down lazily. But it’s not as if anyone would know, with the blanket of dreary clouds covering the sky.

In the distance Tomura sees a wisp of grey rise above the tall buildings caving in on themselves, as if sheltering the alleyways. The floating grey turns into a colour close to jet black. And too late, he realises it’s smoke. And it’s coming from that guarded area of the slums that he’s always thought was a Yakuza hideout. But it appears he was wrong. He sees the smoke rise in puffy, dark clouds, and thinks that Izuku has always been dramatic. The pale man runs as fast as he can towards the smoke, not caring about the fire. He’d rather burn than lose Izuku.

Just as Aizawa is about to scream in frustration and worry because he can’t find the kid, a mass of smoke wafts into the air like a beacon. Izuku’s there, he knows it. The icy chill of fear frosts over his chest, grabbing his heart. What if- No, Izuku will be fine. He has to be. He’d been dumb to think this was a Yakuza meeting, he should’ve noticed something was fishy. As the underground hero approaches the source of the smoke, he feels the breathtaking heat of the blaze, sparks spitting this way and that. But he can’t hesitate, not even for a second. He took too long getting here, there’s no time to waste. He’d rather burn than lose Izuku.

It’s on fire.

The park is on fire.

Neither party really knows what this park is but they know whose it is. They can feel it in their bones that it’s important and there’s something here they need to find.

It feels significant.

And it is.

Tomura runs through the brick sidestreet, more tired than he’s been in a very long time, but running solely on pure panic. The sight he’s greeted with is magnificent. A park, it must’ve been lush and clean and green once upon a time, but now it’s white with ash, and black where the fire burned and orange where the remains fuel the flames. And it’s an odd place. The buildings around it seem to have extended their roofs and bent over, as if sheltering it from harm. And the alleys leading to it all grow short and skinny. It’s almost like this place was made only for children, and those allowed, to enter. On the opposite side of the fire, he can see the exhausted, frazzled face of a hero he admires with all his heart. Eraserhead. But he disregards the man. Now is no time to fight. He has to find a lost child.

Aizawa ducks under a low hanging sign and curses as he’s forced to run sideways, the path he’s taking growing short and thin. Like it was made for a child. Like it was made to keep adults out. It probably was. A flaming park greets him at the end of the tunnel. It blazes a right orange, blue towards the bottom. This was purposeful. The rickety buildings seem to shelter the park and it makes Aizawa wonder who would want to destroy a place so well loved and protected. Directly opposite of him is a villain he should be trying to apprehend and capture for the greater good of the public, but he doesn’t really care about right now. He disregards the villain and tries to ignore the nagging voice in his head telling him the only person who would ever be allowed to destroy this park is the very person who created it.

It must’ve been Izuku.

Tomura and Aizawa reach the same conclusion. Izuku made this park. Izuku set it on fire.

The children watch the park burn with captivated eyes, suddenly appearing out of nowhere.

There are so many that they crowd the hero and the villain, silently watching their safe haven go up in flames as if being cremated.

And there is so much sorrow and resignation and anger and confusion and fear in the air that it clouds the elders’ senses. It feels like a goodbye.

It feels like death.

Aizawa’s eyes widen as he realises what this means.

Tomura’s eyes widen as he realises what this means.

This is goodbye.

Izuku’s going to do it.

Izuku’s going to kill himself.

Izuku’s going to die.

The world seems to be both completely silent and overwhelmingly loud as ringing fills Tomura’s ears and he feels like a stranger in his own body, staring into fire. The world seems to be both completely silent and overwhelmingly loud as Aizawa’s mouth opens in a silent scream, and he feels his spirit begin to shatter into a million pieces.

But he turns away from the fire and runs away. The black haired man tries not to feel like a coward. Logically, he knows Izuku isn’t in that fire. Where else can he look? He’s been everywhere. If he finds him, he can show him he’s safe and he doesn’t need to do this.

The scarlet eyed man screams out, it’s painful and wrecked and broken but it feels freeing. He wonders if this is the feeling Izuku always longed for. Izuku isn’t dead yet. If he finds him quickly enough, he can save him. He can stop him.

They need to tell him they’re free. They need to tell him they’re okay, that he doesn’t need to make a choice. They need to tell him that he’s going to die for nothing. They’re free, he doesn’t need to die for them and they won’t be killed and nobody is going to die.

Izuku can’t die for nothing.

They’re free, there’s no need for him to die so they can live.

Because they’re okay, they’re free, like he always wanted. They aren’t going to die.

Izuku can’t die for nothing.

He’s much too precious to die for nothing.

But Aizawa comes from the east, looping around pathways as fast as he can, calling from the rooftops and screaming out the boy’s name as if his own life is on the line.

And Tomura comes from the west, hopping from roof to roof, surveying the area and calling out Izuku’s name like it’s a lifeline, like it’s the only thing keeping him alive.

They scream for him like it’s their life purpose.

Aizawa cares, he loves the boy like a father and much too late he’s realised he sees Midoriya as his own kid and there’s a protective little flame burning in his chest. He needs the problem child to be safe. He has so much to say to him. He has so much to apologise for. He has to see him again. He has to see him safe. But right now, he can’t see him at all.

Tomura cares, he loves the teenager with all his heart, and he’s fallen hard. He’s always known the most dangerous thing is to love but he’s never truly understood until now. He needs to tell Izuku and see him again. He needs to see his green eyes that sparkle like emeralds and he needs to hear that laugh that’s so light and carefree it sounds like church bells. He has to see him again. He has to see him safe. But right now, he can’t see him at all.

Izuku was never supposed to mean this much to them.

There’s a look of awe on the boy’s face and it’s something he’s never seen before on Izuku. It doesn’t really suit him. Izuku is much more awe inducing than the animated film on the television. The greenette’s eyes are bright and they’ve lost that lifeless dull they used to carry and he looks a lot happier than he has in a long time. He’s soft and he looks younger than he presents himself. It reminds him of how young the teenager truly is. And yet, he can’t help but love him. It was that night when Tomura first acknowledged the fact that he had fallen hard for Midoriya Izuku.

Tears fall down the freckled cheeks of the petite genius and he looks so lost and confused and upset. He remembers that Izuku, no matter how smart he is and how mature he acts, is still a child. A child who has never been allowed to thrive. And he sees how even the boy’s faults stem from kindness as he sobs, wetting the elder’s shirt. All Izuku wanted was for his friend to be happy. Such a simple wish that made the teenager look so small and normal for once. Aizawa watched as the setting sun illuminated the boy’s hair making it look like a halo and thought it suited Midoriya Izuku.

A curly haired boy who looks far too skinny and far too calm with that bright smile on his face that would fool the typical person but not a season villain sits in the seat directly across from him. And he’s trying his best not to acknowledge the child opposite of himself but it’s growing increasingly more difficult to do so. Izuku slurps obnoxiously on his cup of hot cocoa and smirks intelligently at him, leaving the elder at a loss for words. Neither knows it’s the start of a lifelong friendship that will end far too quickly. Tomura didn’t know that simply saying hello would land him caring more than he ever intended about the teenager who sat across from him in a cafe and began analysing him in depth with kind eyes that spoke of horror and loneliness.

From the moment the greenette met his own eyes, he’s known the boy is different. And when he enters the interrogation room, making witty jabs at his elders while avoiding telling the truth about a criminal at the same time. He can see just how intelligent and special the teenager is. And he doesn’t know there will be many nights of walking in the dark, trying to avoid awkward silence. He doesn’t know there will be early mornings of tears and smiles and confessions and anger. He doesn’t know he’s going to care about this child more than he ever intended to. Aizawa simply thinks the kid’s far too smart for his own good, and tries to avoid the kind eyes full of mischievous intent and something so utterly sorrowful and dead.

Careful, warm hands touch his own larger, colder ones. And it’s been such a long time since anyone went near his hands without an ounce of fear in their eyes, but then again, Izuku’s always been different. The green eyed boy so caringly wraps the tape around his fingers, smiling at him reassuringly when he realises he’s been sticking his tongue out in his concentration. The washi tape is the one he gave the other’s for his birthday just a week before. And Izuku scolds him afterwards for not taking care of his skin but it’s playful and it’s not malicious and the room feels warm and familiar and like home as laughter echoes throughout. Tomura knows it only feels like this when Izuku is here.

The speaker connected to the business student’s phone plays tunes quietly and he thinks it’s a very domestic scene. Midoriya humming along shyly as he bakes cookies and chats with him idly, seeming very content. It makes him feel at peace for once. The kid makes snide comments about the hero course students, calling them by increasingly ridiculous names that he admits are quite clever. Laughter feels nice. It’s something he and Izuku don’t share that often. Most of their evenings together end with them slumbering on the couch and waking up with dark eyebags and uncovered memories and secrets. But as they try to outwit and sneak past the other playfully in order to reach a molten cookie, Izuku thinks this is the most he’s laughed in a long time. Aizawa thinks the same thing.

He stares up at the hero school, wondering what sort of God would give him a quirk like this that, no matter what he did, would inevitably make him a villain. And he sees a head of green hair in one of the large windows of UA, and freezes. He’s sorry. He betrayed the boy and he misses him because nothing feels warm and familiar anymore and for some reason he’s empty without him. But the quirkless genius looks straight at him with a smile on his face, a real one, and leans on a shoulder beside him. It makes his heart hurt but he looks closer, using a quirk Sensei gave him when he was young and sees the longing in Izuku’s eyes as they make contact with his own. Tomura thinks in that moment he’d become a hero if it meant he could always be by the younger’s side.

Settling his hand on top of the fluffy, dark green mass of hair and patting it reassuringly, he looks down at the shorter who’s standing in the hallway, watching with sharp eyes as the students walk with slumped shoulders back to the locker rooms. Izuku is a good teacher and he’s beginning to like the company during class. They settle onto a couch in the teacher’s lounge as the bell rings, staring out of the window silently. And it’s a comfortable quiet, one that compels the younger to let his fall onto the other’s shoulder. It warms his heart and he smiles softly, and sadly at the kid who he can tell isn’t really truly happy. His shoulder is warm and Izuku likes how it isn’t cold and stiff like Inko’s. There’s a recognisable villain staring up at the two of them and he feels the moment Izuku realises. He studies the greenette’s eyes and feels conflicted when he sees the pure longing inside of them. But in that moment, Aizawa thinks he’d become a villain if it meant Izuku would be safe and happy by his side.

Izuku walks into the room, sopping wet and shivering but there’s a small smile on his face and the room seems to warm up in his presence. He gets a teary greeting and a group hug to accompany it from all of the League members, leaving everyone at least slightly wet. And when the teenager emerges from his room wearing a large sweater Toga stole from him and some Hello Kitty sweatpants he stubbornly refuses to look at him. If he did, he might spontaneously combust on the spot because it must be illegal from someone to look that soft and cute. And the next morning when they all watch Toga and Twice’s morning routine while drinking their tea and coffee, feeling quite domestic, the young adult thinks he could stand living like this for the rest of his life. And then the television flashes to a news report about how horrible the kind student in front of him is and he can’t bear to watch and Tomura storms out, not wanting to see because he’ll get angry and what if he hurts Izuku? But that night he kills his Sensei and when Izuku looks at him with awe in his eyes, he feels like he’s done something right for the first time in his life.

Four piles of cards sit on top of a small coffee table and he narrows his eyes when he sees how the stoat and the management course student are sitting diagonally from each other. He groans louder when Hizashi enters the room and immediately blanches as he realises what is about to go down. The teacher wonders what happened that made the two genius’ decide to completely cut chess out from their lives and curses the god that made that happen and left him to this fate. And the moment he settles down and sits next to the freckled child, picking up his hand worth twenty points, which should give him an easy win, he knows he’s screwed. In the end, he was right. They were demolished by Midoriya and Nedzu with ease and it was humiliating. He’s exhausted and honestly, a little bit upset. He hates losing. But the smile of glee that paints the assistant teacher’s face makes up for it, making him feel a little bit lighter. And when they walk to his apartment together, Izuku still ranting about strategy and how he got his wins, Aizawa finds he doesn’t mind losing if it means Izuku wins. He doesn’t mind giving up everything if it means Izuku gains everything.

They’re sitting at the coffee shop they first met at what seems like years ago and he can’t help but study the boy in front of him who has grown to be his most intriguing and astonishingly best friend in such a short period of time. He knows that the smiles and fake mannerisms displayed by the young boy are staged and acted out but the kid’s doing a very good job with it that he didn’t even notice until last time’s meeting. But the five point activated quirked man has known since the fateful day he met Midoriya Izuku, the quirkless genius he couldn’t forget if he tried, and he knew the teenager would change his life. Because Izuku is kind. He’s a ray of sunshine and a ball of smarts and personality. But behind all of that, he knows there’s trauma and anger and when the greenette opens up to him for the first time about a certain history teacher that worked at his elementary school just outside of the city, he’s surprised and thankful and happy the child trusts him. Tomura would never have known how much a simple conversation in a cafe would impact his fate.

Wiping off the younger’s damp face, he frowns slightly at the boy below him, slumbering peacefully away on the couch. His face is not swollen, his eyes aren’t red and raw, it looks like Izuku had simply not gotten enough sleep. It’s perplexing, like the student had never been crying in the first place. The taller slumps onto the couch, sinking into a stained cushion with a groan. He’s heard all about Izuku’s mother by now, Midoriya Inko. She sounds horrid, with her screaming and threatening and grabbing and hurting her own child. It makes him feel sick to his stomach. But beyond that, something else causes a lurch of worry in the pit of his stomach as he stares at the younger, eyes heavy with sleep. It’s odd that Izuku mentioned that his elementary building was so tall. Aizawa doesn’t want to think about the implications of the statement.

And in their mindless wandering and searching for the boy, the underground hero and the villain leader suddenly realise where Izuku is, digging up memories of the teenager opening up. A rare event that showed how much they meant to him. The elementary school.

”You know, before that, I’d never realised how tall my elementary school was. It was like a tower, looming over my head. It was safer than Inko but scarier at the same time. The roof had such a lovely view.” Aizawa curses as he spins around and runs in the other direction to the children’s school on the edge of the city. Izuku’s eyes had been glazed over and peaceful and terrified at the same time when he’d said that, absently, just before dozing off before sunrise. He can’t let down the child again. He has to save him. How had he not remembered? He loves him.

“It was hard to calm down after that. I’d been left alone, shivering on the tile of the classroom, there was blood everywhere and no matter how hard I looked I was never able to find my left sock. But I felt a lot better after I sat outside for a bit. It was February so the cold air was really nice and the city was covered in snow and looked so pretty and peaceful from up there.” Tomura snaps up ramrod straight and sprints down the main street, as if challenging any oncoming traffic to hit him. Izuku’s eyes had been glazed over and peaceful and terrified at the same time when he’d said that, absently, before excusing himself and leaving the cafe with a polite smile.No, he can’t lose Izuku. Not yet. Not ever. He can’t live without the boy. How had he not remembered? He loves him.

The cold February wind whips through long black hair and makes pale, dry, cracked skin redden slightly. Scarlet eyes search for a tall school building that’s miles away but he has to hope, right? And it feels like they’re both running so slowly, like the air is mud and everything is taking so long and their legs are so heavy but they have to be so much faster or else it will be far too late.

After what feels like hours Aizawa and Tomura stop, breathless, approaching from the same direction yet so far apart. And they see the building, far in the distance. And it’s both relieving and horrifying at the same time.

Because there’s someone up there.

There’s someone on the roof.

Both of them have a sinking feeling they know just who it is.

There’s a small figure on top of the building.

And as they grow closer, still so far away from their destination, it becomes clear that the figure is about to jump.

Aizawa is yelling so much that he’s going hoarse. And he knows he’s too distant for the boy to hear him but it doesn’t stop the hero from begging the child to stop and trying to let him know he doesn’t have to do this. He doesn’t have to choose anymore.

Tomura stays silent in his horror. He needs to stop him. He’s freaking out and he’s breathing much too fast but he has to get there before he does it and he knows he can’t but he has to try. Izuku can’t just die.

He doesn’t see them. He can’t see them.

They’re too far away.

They won’t make it in time.

Tomura and Aizawa are free and it’s all for nothing.

Aizawa and Tomura are free and they’re okay and Izuku doesn’t have to kill himself and Izuku doesn’t have to choose.

Izuku is going to die for nothing at all.

There’s a boy on the roof of an elementary school and they’re too far away and maybe it’s a trick of the light but it’s almost like he fades away with the wind.

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Act IV - Depression

The world seems dull. Not that it was ever bright. For it has been a very long time since Izuku has seen life in vibrant colours. Every step seems heavy, like it should shake the ground beneath him but it doesn’t and he is reminded that he is not a god, just a child who can’t seem to get anything right no matter how smart he may be.

So it’s just one foot in front of the other. His once bright red sneakers dulled by the mud from the fateful day when he ran away to the villains, flashing in his vision. And the grey sky is spitting out slow falling flecks of snow that don’t stick to the dirty pavement but sprinkle themselves in his curly hair like a dusting of sugar. His breath fogs out in little cloudy puffs as he walks and walks into the heart of the slums.

And it’s quite odd that the park still manages to stay green when the air is cold and unforgiving and ice branches out over the blades of withering grass. It’s currently more brown than anything else but Izuku is impressed by the resilience of the trees that stubbornly sprout leaves and the Japanese Camellia’s pink flowers colouring the pitiful park.

As he walks closer and closer, through the narrowing alleyways which don’t hinder him for his frame is small and he is still very much a child, the park grows larger in his eyes and maybe once upon a time he thought it was beautiful, a safe haven for children that he never had.

But nothing is safe anymore. No matter what he does he can never be free.

And the park is almost completely hidden, he realises for the first time, as the snowflakes begin to melt in his hair and the sparks of icy cold stop hitting his face. Because the tall, old buildings droop and cave in on themselves, their tin roofs sheltering the last little patch of life left in the slums of Musutafu.

In the fifteen year old’s awe of the dome of brick and plaster shadowing the little grove, now lit up by streetlights that for once, aren’t duct taped together and don’t rust and don’t rattle from the looseness of the bulbs and seem to be functioning well, as if new. He doesn’t notice the young adults and elderly that grew up and faded away, deeming themselves too old for storytimes, guarding the area, covering the entrances and roads leading to the square like their lives depend on it, surrounding the young boy in a large circle, arm behind their back as if soldiers he commands, regally, unwaveringly loyal to their leader. And it’s respect that keeps them loyal to him. Admiration and thankfulness to the child who cared and raised them and was kind to the trash of the city when nobody else was.

Within minutes, hoards of children scatter into a crowd that surrounds the quirkless teenager who they respect more than any hero. And he ruffles their hair, and talks animatedly to them. Because he cares, he remembers, he doesn’t seem to mind that there’s lice on their scalps and mud on their cheeks and cavities in their mouths and bruises on their limbs.

He cares about their wellbeing, their happiness, their lives, when nobody else has. And Izuku talks to a young girl about her family whom she had informed was in jail, and tells her he hopes they get out soon because he remembered, he listened. And there’s a toddler boy with a mutation quirk that makes him look like a tarantula and it’s scary and powerful and he could kill the elder without a second thought but Izuku just looks at him without an ounce of fear and tells him that all his eyes are just a lovely colour and he likes his shirt.

It’s not pity. It’s never been pity. He enjoys talking to them. He likes seeing the awe in their eyes and the grins on their faces when he tells them stories. And it’s something he never had. It’s something he wishes he had.

But being down here, with the kids, far too young to have gone through what they have, and despite having done nothing wrong, and being so little, are already seen as villains to the rest of the world. It makes him think of the League. Of Tomura. Of how much he misses him and how much he’s done to him and how much he loves the elder as a friend, as family.

And sure, he’s uncomfortable around the guy because he hurt him so deeply, but Tomura’s been nothing but kind to Izuku.

Tomura gave him friendship and something so close to freedom he could almost touch it. Tomura made him laugh and smile and gave him a home when he needed one and always forgave him and Tomura wasn’t an adult.

Aizawa-

The boy swallows nervously. Aizawa betrayed him, there shouldn’t even be a choice here. He should choose Tomura. It’s the right thing to do, isn’t it?

Thoughts of the tiny cage that was UA fill his mind and he feels like he wants to vomit when he imagines himself a hero, wearing a long cape and a large smile that should be comforting to every child. He can’t save them. Nobody ever saved him. He could try, but he would never be able to save everyone.

And then Aizawa’s soft eyes and sarcastic drawl can’t seem to remove themselves from his brain. He can’t forget the nights of grateful tears and drawn out talks from the adult who believed him and listened and helped him for once.

The sun begins to rise and Izuku can almost imagine the elder man slumbering away peacefully on the couch while the rising sun lights up his hair making him look like an angel.

He keeps trying and trying and trying but no matter what he does, Izuku has always been useless. He can’t make a choice. He can’t choose between them. He’ll have to choose himself.

Children stare at him with adoring eyes and he feels a clench in his chest. The sadness he’ll leave behind. That is what he dreads. He’s never wanted to hurt anybody, and yet, here he is.

So Izuku walks towards the park, stepping onto the wilting grass, crunchy with frost, his pocket rattling with each step, holding a seven year old boy in his arms, and sits on the bench where he tells stories.

And he doesn’t have any happy stories to tell them this time. He can’t protect them and give them that sense of security, and that joyful excitement that makes their heart skip a beat. It makes him feel like a failure. He wishes he had more time. He wishes he had more to tell. He wishes the story he’s about to tell isn’t as short as it is.

Everyone seems to be holding their breath, an anticipatory silence coats the area while Izuku gets himself situated. He braids a girl’s black hair gingerly, her quirk causes her hearing to be much weaker than others so she takes the space right next to him in order to listen as well as she possibly can.

“Mister, mister! What’cha gonna tell us this time?” A little kid yells out, those around them shush loudly and tell them to wait until Izuku starts speaking because it’s rude to yell out like they just did.

“This is the last story I will be telling you all for a while and for that I’m so so sorry.” Izuku manages to choke out, looking at the ground in shame and frustration and tries to prevent the tears from slipping out of his eyes because he has to be strong.

Nobody moves, nobody says a word. It’s perfectly silent.

“I’m going to tell you a sad story today. This is a story about a quirkless boy with green hair and dreams too big for his body.” The quirkless teenager smiles at the group of people in front of him sadly, taking a deep breath as he braces himself to begin.

The gang of little heads with wide eyes shuffles briefly, adjusting themselves into a listening position for what promises to be a long and hard story to hear. The swish and chrinkle of insulated coats and the squeaks of snow boots too small fill the air. Several more well off children offer small hand warmers and extra pairs of gloves they’re grown out of to others, before sitting back down, knees pulled to their chests, looking quite pleased with themselves. He feels pride swell up in his chest at the sight.

And Izuku takes a deep breath, thinking this is all quite melodramatic and he’d probably be cringing if he saw and heard himself from a third person’s point of view. But the greenette thinks he’s excused because he’s going to die soon anyways.

“Once upon a time, there was a lady with a weak quirk that let her pull small objects towards herself, and a man with a fire breathing quirk. They fell in love and married two years after meeting each other. One day, they decided to have a baby and when that baby was born they loved him very much.” Izuku starts off, trying to soothe the rising panic surging through his veins.

“When I gave birth to you, I saw you and just knew that you would be a bad one. That you were evil from the moment I set eyes on you. I hated you Izuku.” His mother said to him one day, his innocent eyes gazed up at her adoringly, confused by the words but sensing they weren’t good. He must’ve done something wrong. He should apologise. So the boy hugged her and said he was sorry and gave her a kiss, wondering why the embrace felt so cold and dangerous and suffocating.

“But it wasn’t a perfect life. The woman, who was named Inko, started to do bad things. Things that scared the little boy and made him cry even if it wasn’t aimed at him. She would scream at her husband, Hisashi, and hit him and manipulate him. Some nights when it was really bad she’d throw knives and break glasses. But she never did that to her son. Still, the boy hated it. She was scary when she was mad.”

He was so so young, not even three years old but he could still comprehend the tears streaming down her face as she yelled and screamed until she was hoarse, and he’d try to do his act of little smiles and happy laughs to calm her down and make her tell him he was cute and she’d be happy again and there would be no more scary bad noises. But that didn’t work. Izuku fell asleep that night listening to sharp words and wails and haunted screeches while he quietly sobbed himself into a dreamless state of unconsciousness

“But when he turned three, he didn’t manifest a quirk. And then he turned four and he still didn’t manifest one. Slowly, the loud voices that were muffled by the walls between them, became loud as they started to become directed at the child instead of the adult. Shouts of him being useless and horrible and a freak and a disappointment filled his ears as the days progressed and he failed to inherit a power from his parents, causing his mother to become angry and sad. She was angry and sad because of him. And he never forgot that.”

A doctor with a stern blank face sits in a stool across from a four year old boy and his mother, who has her son’s wrist in a death grip. And if the medical professional sees the trickle of blood seeping from the cuts where her fingernails dig into the freckled skin, he doesn’t say anything. A child who dreams of being a hero, who dreams of being saved by a hero stares at the ground and winces as Inko’s grip grows tighter and one word echoes in his mind, feeling impossibly loud in the small office. Quirkless

“But after he was diagnosed she started to get worse. She would scream at him and make him cry and grab him and make him bleed and make him wish he were dead or anywhere but there. And as she threatened him with a knife, restraining herself in a bout of anger by hacking at the counter with the butcher’s weapon while screeching at her child, and telling him she should kill him, that he’d deserve it. That she’d kill herself because of him. His father watched, choosing to sit silently and not intervene and not help or make his son feel better. Hisashi would blame him. And what was worse is that the boy believed him.”

A small child cowers in fear, squeezing his eyes shut as if it will make the monster in front of him go away. Just inches from his face, is a woman, screaming profanities at him, telling him he’s worthless and lazy, and stupid and he’s the reason her life is horrible. Spittle spatters onto his freckled cheeks and he wants to wipe it off, along with the tears and snot coating his skin, but that would only make her angrier. If he doesn’t move. If he doesn’t say a word. If he does everything she asks. If he’s quiet and good. If he is pleasant and nice. Maybe it will all be okay.

“And sure, maybe that wasn’t amazing, but it was his fault, they were right. Why can’t he just get a quirk? Is he really that incompetent? School wasn’t much better. Sure the teachers didn’t outwardly show it, but they thought he was weak and dumb. The kid realised this and when the teachers stopped trying, he did too. But at least he had one friend. A blonde who had a strong explosion quirk. He was so cool! And school might’ve been better than home, but nothing ever seems to stay that way. His best friend started to use his quirk on him, a quirkless five year old. And it seemed okay at the time, he deserved it after all.”

His bones ache as he begins the slow walk home from school. Kacchan did this to him. But Kacchan’s still his friend right? The boy thinks of how his skin sizzled and turned black and how his hair caught on fire and how tears ran down his face as his friend smiled down at him like he was proud of what he’d done. The angry, raw pink burns covering his arms tingle but he’s grown used to the pain hours ago. And someday, years from now, he’ll have an analysis journal stuffed to the brim with information on Kacchan and his quirk and how to kill him and how to get away with it. But right now the five year old just wishes he could have his old friend back and supposes he should be grateful Kacchan even lets him follow him around.

“The six year old soon realised he was smart, unusually so. Because Hanako who sits two seats in front of him has an intelligence quirk that aids him in math and science and nobody seems to understand his theories and essays and he does the work quickly and the teachers love him. But Izuku can. Izuku understands and he wants to speak up and add onto those theories proposed by the other boy, he does the work quickly but they think he’s cheated and nobody seems to want to listen to what he has to say but they also don’t understand his mumbling and the teachers hate him. His analyses, they aren’t normal. It’s not normal to manipulate strangers who don’t know he’s quirkless into doing nice things for him. It’s not normal to evaluate the feeling of a room or the look on a person’s face and know just how to act and tread carefully in order to avoid an explosion. He’s not normal. But he sees his teachers’ expressions when he goes up to them and knows that he shouldn’t say a word.”

If everyone always thinks he’s lying when he’s not, then he might as well not tell the truth. He rationalises, after suffering through a thorough shaming session from Inko for lying to her about him being done with his chores even when he wasn’t. At age six, Izuku became something close to a pathological liar. He lied about himself. He never lied when he said he did the work he was supposed to do and tried his best on. No, he lied about his emotions and created a persona that could withstand his negative environment unknowingly. He started to lie about little things in order to not get in trouble, weaving intricate tales that he told convincingly. Though the guilt of doing so began to gnaw at his brain and distracted him from his work, causing his grades to drop even further as he grew stressed from all his late work and ended up not turning it in at all.

“One day, the elementary school student decided to be bold, to go against his ingrained rules that have kept him safe and enabled him to survive thus long. He went to a teacher, an adult. This man was kind and didn’t fail him on purpose or glare at him or encourage other students’ bullying of the quirkless boy. What followed this courageous display of a child trying new things and trying to get better was pain he’d never experienced before, leaving him numb and dazed and upset and raw and weak. A feeling he hated with all his heart. And for years after that, the boy would not remember exactly what occurred on that night, his brain unconsciously blocking out the traumatic experience in a desperate act of self preservation. He was too young to know it was abuse, both by his parents and his teacher. However, the lesson learned would stay, branded onto his soul. He shouldn’t have gone against the rules that have protected him. He should’ve never trusted an adult when all they’ve ever done is scare him and hurt him and fail him. He should’ve remembered they were there for survival. That the only option he has is to survive. And even after that, there was a moment when he wavered, sitting on top of his school roof, with an emptiness inside him he’d never felt before. And the desperate need to feel something. To feel anything. At all costs.”

Everything hurts and he’s just so gross and dirty that all he wants to do is scrub his skin raw in a desperate attempt to be clean, something rushes out of him, making Izuku shiver in disgust and fear. He’s cold too, despite the fact he is sweating, skin clammy, hands and legs trembling, sticky tear tracks marring his face, blood and come smeared over his body, running down his legs and dripping onto the floor. The seven year old feels dizzy and even though sharp pains make him pause as he tries to recollect himself, he grabs a roll of paper towels and wipes the tile he’s dirtied, not wanting to get in trouble. As he sits there, quiet, eyes unfocused, watching the sun go down, turning the sky a light greyish purple, something feels wrong. He feels hollow, emotionless, he’s numb and empty and he hates it. So, despite the cold weather, the seven year old boy shakily gets up and limps himself over to the stairway. Frigid air hits his skin and makes the warm liquids trickling down his thighs cold. Small hands grasp the door handle and it’s unlocked, for once. He opens it and is greeted with a rush of unbearably cold air, but it makes his pale cheeks redden slightly and it feels fresh and clean and calming at the same time. Bright green eyes look out at the city as he sits on the edge, feet dangling in the air, and thinks he wouldn’t mind falling.

“And nobody believed him. Nobody listened. Nobody wanted to. So as the days went by something felt wrong. His chest felt too heavy to be as empty as it was. Everything was muddled and dark. He couldn’t get out of bed in the morning. Nothing excited him. Nothing motivated him. Nothing felt worth it anymore. His grades plummeted even lower and he was distracted in the class because all he could think about was killing himself. Every thought of suicide made his stomach churn because he imagined his mother crying and how horrible it would be to lose everything but gradually, he wondered if anyone would cry. If there was something to lose afterall.”

He sits in the car, rigid, terrified. This is where it always happens. Inko asks her eight year old son why he’s getting B’s and C’s in his classes when he’s smarter than that. When she knows he can do better. And she’s saying it in a kind, soft tone. But there’s danger, a warning, gaslighting, manipulation, hiding underneath it all. The child knows that. Yet still, hearing the soft, warm voice of the mother who he’s always loved and always wanted to love him and be near to, like a normal parent child relationship, Izuku falls apart. His walls break down with the slightest nudge and he tells her everything. How he thinks about killing himself and he hates it and he’s sorry and he’ll do better. She holds him while he cries and the greenette tries to ignore how he feels trapped and sick in her arms. And after a few minutes she grabs his chin and tilts his head up at her, tears still dripping out of his eyes, and asks him what that has to do with his bad grades.

“But he doesn’t do it. He can’t muster up the ability to drown himself in the sink, to throw himself off the roof of a tall building, to hang himself in his closet. And instead, he suffers, living a miserable life that feels so repetitive and boring but at least he knows what’s going to happen. He has a schedule. He wakes up, having only achieved a whopping three hours of sleep, goes to school, tries to avoid his childhood friend turned bully, soothes the burns and bruises covering his arms, walks home tries to stay quiet because his mother is still sleeping despite the late hour, tries to figure out if she’ll scream at him or manipulate him or just use him as her personal slave today, makes dinner, cleans up, gets yelled at by his parents, goes to his room and tries to sleep and doesn’t manage to until 4 am. And everyday the nine year old had wished and prayed and begged for a hero to come save him, to see All Might’s big, bright smile. But that wish had faded when nobody had come, nobody had watched, nobody had cared. He began to hate heroes and adults. He began to isolate himself as he fell into a downward spiral that could only lead to an early death.”

A dark period of time where Izuku’s life felt just as worthless as they always said he was. He tore down the bright posters of All Might splattered all over his walls, he refused to give any adult who talked to him, that he wasn’t absolutely terrified of, his name and event he time of day. He tried everything he could to avoid seeing heroes and adults and get away from Inko and try to fill this empty hole in his heart that seemed to suck all the happiness from his soul, leaving him alone with his sadness and thoughts that screamed in his skull. So Izuku began to volunteer and handed out food to homeless people living in internet cafes and bathhouses and he worked at a soup kitchen, lying about his real age and even though they didn’t believe him they let him do it. And in a few months the nine year old would meet a bird headed boy and an underground hero who would change his life in what at the time might seem like a good way, but overall was probably for the worse.

“But just as the boy had finally gotten enough and became fed up with the world in a hopeless attempt to live his life right, there was a light at the end of the tunnel. He’d been walking outside to take out the trash and it was night time. All of a sudden a villain attacked him and even though he could’ve handled the guy by himself, having practiced hand to hand combat styles in his room because he had to be good at something. He had to have something that made him special or else he’d be worthless like everyone always said. If only he knew how wrong he was. A hero with black hair came and ‘saved’ him, taking him to the police station and questioning him. And the boy put on a mask, a strong, sarcastic, funny, mean, snide, little sh*t. It had always worked before and it looked like the hero believed him but why was it not working? Eventually the hero brought him to meet another hero who was just as smart as the kid was. And despite the ebony haired man’s attempts, the ten year old knew better than to trust heroes. He knew better than to trust an adult.”

A detective even plainer than he is stares at him, Izuku finds himself intrigued and excited for the first time in a very long time. He has to grab onto this feeling, at least for the short amount of time it stays. But his front stays strong, sarcastic, snarky boy. Maybe they won’t catch onto his intelligence. Izuku still remembers the day he met Nedzu, both relieved and terrified to not have to downplay his intelligence. The ten year old had known from the moment he met the albino animal, that he would never truly trust him. He respected the principal of UA for sure, but Izuku knew they both viewed the other as some sort of toy, amusing to watch and the only person able to truly challenge their minds. And even that small comfort was lost when the greenette grew up to be different. The whole world against him.

“Years of abuse by his parents and peers, despite him thinking and knowing it was his fault, had taught him to watch, to be observant, to analyse. In the end, everything he did was to survive. He had to survive. A year after meeting some of the heroes, the eleven year old stumbled upon a teenager in a cafe who was scratching at his neck so badly it started to bleed. Now, the boy wasn’t dumb and he normally steered clear of others but this guy wasn’t an adult and he didn’t look like a hero or a teacher so he approached him with some bandages and a tube of hand lotion and from there a friendship began to bloom. The curly haired boy analysed the movements and expressions and possible outcomes of everything and everyone around him because that was how he survived. Nobody really cared that it was a product of abuse, to them it was useful and resourceful and a sign of his intelligence and amazing. He melted underneath the unfamiliar praise, becoming malleable to the heroes’ whims, nearly forgetting about his new friend in the process.”

One thing about analysis that nobody ever talks about is how you become oversensitive. There are too many people, too many noises, too many things, too many dangers, too many ways to get hurt or yelled at. There’s a fruit fly buzzing about and nobody’s caught it yet and it’s making a ringing noise in his ears. A woman is breathing harder than usual, she hasn’t done any exercise and is staring angrily at her phone, she must be upset. It terrifies him he needs to leave. But what if leaving makes it worse? A pale, blonde person throws their toddler up into the air, the tan, black haired child giggles and squeals joyfully while their partner, a redhead , tugs on her partner’s arm, insisting they stop tossing around the kid without regard for their surroundings. The eleven year old feels a longing pull at the scene and that familiar ache for a place called home grabs his heart. Izuku hunches over and plows through the crowd, gritting his teeth in an effort not to squirm and scream and bang his head and hit something with the amount of stimuli around him that his brain analyses automatically, leaving it crowded and sore from the influx of information. He thinks of Tomura and how carefree he feels around the other and everything feels a little bit better. That’s a new development.

“But he was smart. He knew that. And no matter how his circ*mstances may have contributed to that, nothing could change the fact that the greenette was a genius. He soon realised he was becoming a sort of pawn of the heroes, playing chess games with the leader of their schools and helping them by just hanging around and giving them advice and analyses. The boy began to refuse the requests made of him, insisting he was not a hero and he hated heroes and how it had slipped his mind he wasn’t sure. He hated heroes and yet there he was. So he went and helped out in other ways, bringing food to those less fortunate and volunteering to help run shelters and donate old toddler’s clothes he snuck away from his mother’s hoard. But it still didn’t feel like enough, he felt he needed to do something, more. A big project that would help people like him who were never really forgotten but were never truly given help either. And about a week later, the quirkless boy would drag himself away from his house, crying quietly as his mother’s cruel words and her demonic screams of frustration and anger at him for such a small, stupid thing, because she always hated birthdays. They were hard for his mother simply because it wasn’t all about her. His twelfth birthday was no exception. That afternoon, he ran deeper into the southside of town than he had ever gone before and stumbled across a small alleyway that he fit nearly perfectly into and came upon a decimated circle of concrete filled with something that might’ve been grass a long time ago, and smiled. The pre-teen began to build something wonderful out of almost nothing at all.”

He’d been disassociating badly that day. And without thinking about it, ventured downtown into the slums because his thoughts were otherwise occupied. Had she meant it? Was it really such a horrible day today? Was it truly the worst day of the year and so massively bad that she wouldn’t even give him a present? She’d seemed to have thought it funny. That she hadn’t gotten him anything, saying that he didn’t have to give her anything on her birthday because she had nothing to give him. Izuku feels guilty, really, because he’d been angry and affronted and appalled when she said she considered his birthday her birthday too so it really didn’t make sense for it to be just his special day. He’s just being selfish and a brat. Sometimes when he thinks about her fits of anger that are honestly quite frequent but that’s not how it always is, sometimes she’s nice, but even then he’s so tense he can’t enjoy it, he wonders if he’s putting himself in a good light. Being biased towards himself, victimizing himself, as if it’s not his fault. It is his fault but is he making it sound worse than it is? Is he pretending it’s only happening to him? Isf it not wrong? The twelve year old thinks that maybe he’s doing that but still, that doesn’t make it right. But even trying to convince himself of that makes him feel embarassed and stupid and sick to his stomach because it is right. He deserves it. Izuku trips on a curb and falls onto a hard surface that smells like piss and cigars and rotten food. But when he looks up around himself all he can see is what someday it will be.

“And for the next year, while he was slowly growing sick of the constant downplaying of his abilities, silently taking the explosions from his bully and the screaming sessions from his mother, he made himself a sanctuary, a safe place for children like him. He would say he was going out with friends on the good days when his parents were in good moods and would smile at him and tell him to have fun and say hello to his classmates. On those days the greenette would start to think he’d made it up, that he was crazy, that he wasn’t really abused. But he’d go downtown and give the residents of internet cafes sandwiches and would volunteer at shelters and when all of that was done and it was almost time to go home the thirteen year old would go further south down to the circle of concrete and worked. He’d plant grass and flowers and trees and he’d clean up the litter and would try to salvage the soil already there, watering the plants everyday until they finally grew up. And he used scraps of wood from broken boarded up windows and the side of the road and he made a bench in the middle of it all. Because of all of that work the boy grew stronger and he made friends along the way, the surrounding neighborhood thanking him in every way possible. And one day, when all of that was done, despite it being a sloppy job, grass growing up patchy and flowers sprouting in scraggly bunches, and the trees too small to even be called that, he sat down on the bench, having invited the neighborhood children to the ‘grand opening’ of the new park. And he told them a story.”

There was a group of less than ten kids in front of him and the thirteen found himself quite nervous actually. Three of them were older than him and one was the same age. Would they be like Kacchan and his classmates? But when the freckled genius opened his mouth and recited the plot of a television show he’d seen just last week, they were entranced, hanging onto his every word. For they’d never had a house to watch these shows in, only having been able to see the news, and only able to watch shows available for free. That was one of the many privileges he had that Izuku acknowledged, as bad as his life may be, at least he was able to have a house that was warm. At least he was able to spend money without thinking about how he’d eat dinner the next day. Though there was a sense of guilt with every purchase it wasn’t as if he was short on cash. And when he’d finished the story they all stared at him and while he’d been worried he was being dumb and they didn’t like this and it was just a stupid thing to try and do because who is he, to try and tell children stories when he’s a child himself. But before the thirteen could begin to feel the humiliation settling in, a purple haired boy with bags underneath his eyes, who looked to be around the same age as the quirkless boy was, looked up at him and asked him to tell them another one. At first, Izuku had been scared none of the others wanted this and that they were just saying it to make him feel better or to make fun of him later but none of them got up as he strung together words about comets and switching places and bodies and falling in love, and they were transfixed. He came back the next day, feeling almost giddy as his excitement grew because he’d done something worthwhile. The thirteen year old had accomplished something that he worked for. He wasn’t useless after all. And there were more children this time, some older, some younger. The days he came varied, and though he’d initially planned for others to tell stories, nobody seemed to take initiative, so whether it took a week or a day or a month, he’d show up, sit on the bench, and in front of him would be an ever increasing crowd of scraggly children who just wanted to be kids.

“And for a while, he had a routine. He’d go to school, try to analyse the air of the room and the sharpness of his mother’s eyes to see if she’d yell at him and hurt him that day, go to the hero school to meet with the smart principal, and then head to the park to tell stories. But it seemed nothing could ever stay the same for very long. The hero with black hair started to try to warm up to him, walking him home at night and listening to his own, more personal stories with unjudging eyes and a dry sense of humour that didn’t help the adult’s prickly image that he was clearly trying to keep up. And the boy, who hated heroes and hated adults and hated teachers, because apparently the man was all of the above, refused to trust him. But the dream of becoming a hero, attending the hero school, buried underneath years of failure to be saved, of hurt and no comfort, of watchful eyes and a constantly whirring brain, began to seem less and less unrealistic. The bastard even encouraged it, with his kind words and sarcastic drawl and that soft look on his eyes that the quirkless boy hated just as much as the adult’s warm smile. However, despite all of the niceties of the hero, the fourteen year old had been tricked before by men far better at acting than this one was, and he knew he didn’t trust him. So in his spare time, the teen went to his new friend whom he’d met at the coffee shop and discovered that he was a villain. The odd thing was, that the curly haired child couldn’t find it in him to care, and therefore didn’t mention it to the hero who clearly cared about him. Because he didn’t trust the hero and he didn’t trust the villain. But the hero was an adult and the villain was a child so he didn’t say a word. Weeks passed before the villain brought him to his hideout where the budding genius met the rest of the group of antiheroes and something about it just felt right. The villains began to feel like home. His friend that he’d met in the coffee shop felt like family, his closest friend whom he cared for and cared for him and made sure he was always warm and happy and welcomed. And everything was fine for a while until he realised that nothing could simply be that easy. The black haired hero one fateful day, had insisted on walking him to his house so he could meet the boy’s parents and for some unintelligible reason, he’d agreed. And when the teenager’s mother had grabbed his arm and made him bleed and screamed in his ear while he sobbed and begged for forgiveness, almost forgetting to be humiliated at his actions in front of an audience that he’d never truly removed his mask in front of, had made the mistake of asking for help. So when the hero took him from his mother’s arms and informed his parents that he would not be staying with them, the boy, instinctively remembering the easy conversations and the soft eyes and warm smiles and promises that he’d never hurt him and that it’s okay to show emotion and that he wasn’t weak, trusted him.”

And sure that was true. He’d trusted the adult, the hero, the teacher who was everything he hated, everything he feared because he thought maybe this time it would be different, maybe this time it would be okay. Izuku of course had been right. Aizawa wasn’t bad. Not in the slightest. But trusting him had been his vital mistake all along. So he’d gone to live with the hero, enrolled in UA and refused the hero course because he knew he could do it but the urge to be a hero had subsided in the face of logic and wanting to be unnoticed as the fourteen year old began to long to be normal. And UA was fine, he had friends that he liked and a principal who was fun to play with but it began to feel like a cage. The League didn’t feel like a cage. Not yet. The villains were warm and kind and they made him smile, they made him laugh. Izuku began to feel suffocated. He cared for Aizawa so much and he knew that he trusted too hard and too fast and too deeply and that the man could say anything and Izuku would believe him because the man felt safe. Aizawa let him speak, let him cry, let him scream, told him he could be angry, let him be sad, listened and gave his all. Aizawa helped, Aizawa cared, Aizawa tried. But Tomura understood.

“For a while, everything was good. Everything was fine. The hero, he was good, he was nice and he tried to help and make it better. But gradually as the boy started to attend the hero school it began to feel wrong, cramped, like a cage. The heroes gave him a good reputation and a good conscience, it made everything easier, it made it feel like he was doing the right thing. Then when he was with the villains, and he knew it was wrong and he shouldn’t and they’ve done bad things, it felt right. It felt like he was almost free. But one day the fifteen year old was betrayed by the villains, they chose their leader over him and left him all alone, making the hideout feel almost as small as the school. So he left and he didn’t go back for months, opting to stay with the black haired hero who was good to him and always tried his best and cared for him despite feeling like a show dog on display wearing a too tight collar while their handler pulls on the leash. And the principal of the school tried to discreetly employ him to be a hero, to be a poster child of a reformed person used to be the brain behind all the operations. The stoat tried to make him a teacher. He tried to make him a hero. And the boy who had seen the villain’s side and the hero’s side, had lost all desire to be a hero long ago. He didn’t want to be a hero and he didn’t want to be a villain either. The quirkless boy just wanted to be normal. Putting aside all of that, it was fine for a while. But one day he experienced what seemed to be a nightmare brought to life. The hero who had saved him, the adult he had trusted, the teacher he had cared for, betrayed him. They tried to give him back to his mother and in his desperation to escape because when he was with her he thought he was going to die, the boy stabbed her and jumped out of the car, walking for hours seemingly aimlessly until he ended up at the door to the villain hideout. And then like always, it was fine for a while but then the boy’s best friend, who was more like a brother confessed that he was in love with him and he didn’t feel the same way about him, he just wanted to be friends and he felt so guilty, so horrible because here was this man who had been nothing but nice to him but he couldn’t even return his feelings. And morally and legally it’s wrong, because the man was an adult, just barely and he was a child but that still didn’t stop him from feeling bad about it because all he ever wanted was a friend, and he’s been groomed so much that his perception of what is wrong and what is right has been gone for a very long time. Now this may seem just bad enough but then the villains took the hero who’d betrayed him hostage, along with All Might and then All Might got out and the villain was taken away and the boy was given a choice. If he became a hero, the villains would kill the hero who’d betrayed him, but had also cared for him more than anyone ever had, and the heroes would release the villain who’d been rejected by the boy. If he became a villain, the heroes would kill the villain who’d only ever loved him and only ever tries to be welcoming, and the villains would release the hero who was the parental figure he’d always wanted.” Izuku takes a deep breath, trying to calm himself as his words grow rushed and strung together. The children all stare at him with growing levels of concern and carefully hidden pity.

“And then right now in this very moment. The fifteen year old is sitting in front of a bunch of people talking about himself and maybe it’s a bit too much information but it’s been on his chest for a long time. No matter what I choose I lose in the end. What do I do?” The petite genius’ voice cracks towards the end and he hangs his head low. This is dumb. He’s just being an angsty teen and this isn’t real he’s being overdramatic. Why did he tell this to everyone?

The boy, so ridden with grief and self wallowing, that he’s grown unstable and a bit numb to the world, not really caring anymore about anything because he’s said it all. It’s out there. Because if he’s going to die he might as well be remembered. He grabs a bottle of lighter fluid from his hoodie and pours it over the grass. And in his pocket a box of matches rattles enticingly. What’s the point anymore, when he made this place to be safe? It was all just pretend. It was fake. He might as well go out with a bang.

Izuku stands up and walks to the edge of the concrete circle, the hoard of kids follow him loyally. He strikes a match and throws it into the blades of brown. It lights up, hot and sparking, bright in his dull eyes. It’s warm and comforting and familiar and just what he needed on this cold day that seems to leave him chilled to the bone. But it’s also hot and scorching and angry and dangerous and it’s everything he’s ever feared.

The fire leaves him entranced.

And he thinks the children will cry, will be angry and upset with him. Rightfully so, he deserves it. They should hate him. He doesn’t want anyone to be sad. He doesn’t want anyone to miss him. If he had never trusted anyone he wouldn’t be in this situation. He should’ve just kept to himself.

But a hand grabs his and it’s a little redhead wrapped up in layers of torn, tossed scarves, with brown eyes that shine up at him and Izuku realises they aren’t angry with him. They knew it would come to an end. It’s a concept quite familiar to them all. Life without a house is unforgiving. Change is inevitable.

“I don’t have anymore stories.” He chokes out, not realising he’s crying. The kid looks up at him and Izuku gets the sense that it’s okay. That he’s forgiven. That they know he’s sorry.

It feels like a goodbye.

The entire park is coated with embers and fire and people who he once upon a time told stories to. And he looks at each of them as if his life is flashing before his eyes. While he was watching them grow up and flourish, they were watching him right back.

“I’m sorry.” The greenette announces, all eyes on him as the fire continues to rage, higher and higher as the milliseconds pass.

“Run.” And the world stands still.

It sounds like a goodbye.

He stands there, in shock as none of them move and the flames spread to other buildings as if determined to set the world on fire. It feels warm and welcoming and bittersweet because he’ll never tell another story. He has no more to tell. He’s allowed to be melodramatic about his own death.

Instead of fleeing they gather around him and hold his hands and try to stop his tears. The quirkless fifteen year old melts into their touches and thanks them, apologies spilling out of his mouth while they simply smile at him with wet eyes.

Izuku thinks this must be the love he’s always longed for.

He’s finally got it and he’s never going to be able to have it again.

And Izuku cries because all he’s ever been doing is surviving. All he’s ever wanted is to live, to be normal, to have a home, to be a kid.

“Mister, you need to go, we can’t hold them off for much longer, they’ve seen the smoke.” A scruffy looking person who can’t be much older than twenty tells him. The greenette thinks he’s seen them before, that they must’ve been one of his kids from the beginning.

Shiny green eyes look around at the circle of outcasts and children with hands too dirtied to dream of becoming heroes. And he’s not unobservant. He’s not dumb. His brain has long analysed the situation, realising exactly what was happening. He knows about the lie of a mafia meeting, he sees how they protect him from the outside world as if he’s a precious person who’s actually worth something.

It’s a bit of an unfamiliar feeling, he was quite blown away when he’d realised it. Why would they want to protect him so fiercely? For him? No, he must’ve been mistaken. But Izuku sees the determined gleam in their eyes and the deep regret and sorrow in their faces that he can’t help but observe carefully to make sure he’s safe. He knows that they don’t want to do this. That they want him to stay, to keep telling them stories, to rebuild the park, to stay alive, to try and help him. But they’re restraining themselves. And for that he is thankful.

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I wish- I shouldn’t have- I’m-” The freckled genius stutters over his words, feeling stressed and rushed and not wanting to say goodbye because he needs time he doesn’t have.

“We understand. We promise. You don’t need to be sorry. Stop that crying now, boy. Don’t apologise. You’ve done nothing wrong.” A woman with pitch black eyes and braided hair puts a hand on his shoulder and watches with a sad smile as he wipes away his tears.

“Thank you. For everything.” Another steps forward, face torn away from a car wreck that won’t ever heal because she can’t afford to pay the hospital bill. Izuku tries to open his mouth to show his own gratitude but is shushed gently.

It’s a goodbye.

And the crowd watches fondly as he bows deeply before running as fast as he can, head ducked low while the fifteen year old child weaves through dark alleyways, eyes screwed shut against the frosty February wind as he walks towards his inevitable end. A personal death sentence.

The world is about to lose a truly kind soul. For Izuku has helped and saved so many people without being a hero or a villain, and the one time he did something for himself it put him here. Izuku’s always wanted to save people. And while he was doing just that people forgot that perhaps he needed the same.

Anger courses through the veins of hundreds of people who’ve been fortunate enough to witness the true, bright kindness of Midoriya Izuku. They will bring the justice he deserves. The justice none of them have ever gotten. Crowds will flood the streets as the people demand the freedom of Tomura and Aizawa.

Because it’s Izuku’s own story that he’s told them. And there will be riots from the slums to the uptown parts of Musutafu as a quirkless child’s name is chanted solemnly in remembrance. The balance will snap. Tired of being pushed aside and ignored and sneered at they will overthrow the very society which cast them aside.

The teenager in question tries to ignore the loud abundance of thoughts in his mind but one stands out in front of the rest. He feels the rough scrape of brick against his ankles and the ache in the balls of his feet but Izuku can’t stop.

There’s a million hands holding his own, trying to pull him back up. Trying to save him. But in the process they’re dislocating his shoulder. They’re ignoring his pained cries. They’re breaking his fingers that are starting to slip slowly. Below him there is nothing but darkness.

Izuku opens his eyes and finds himself in front of a staircase, panting heavily as white clouds of breath cloud his vision.

Let go.

For anything worth living for is certainly worth dying for.

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Act V - Acceptance

Dark, dull green eyes look up at the grey, concrete, steps that loom over his head ominously. The railings mounted into the ground a bright, contrasting red. He doesn’t register the broken lock falling out of his limp hand, sure to bruise as it took a fair amount of strength to pry it off of the door.

The staircase extends up to the roof that seems both so far away and much too close at the same time. And the building is cold in a way that makes his legs shake and mind cloudy. His stomach lurches at just the idea of taking a step closer to his death.

Does he really want to do this? What if he just thought a bit harder? What if he just put it off another day? One more day couldn’t hurt, right? No. He mustn’t think that way. He can’t give himself hope. He should’ve accepted his death a long time ago.

People always say suicide is selfish.

Now Izuku’s never been very good with that concept but this whole situation doesn’t seem very selfish to him.

But maybe it is.

He couldn’t just choose. He had to try and keep both of his precious people alive because that’s what he wants. He could’ve done what other people wanted him to do.

Maybe he truly is selfish to the core.

Maybe Inko was right about how he only ever thought about himself.

The greenette finds himself holding the cold, red metal railing, not really knowing how he got there. His feet move as if on autopilot, bending his knee and bringing him up onto the first concrete step with a light tap.

There are still more than one hundred steps left to climb but the sensation of making the first move even if it’s just a seven inch drop from this step to the ground. It’s still jarring though. Dread settles around the teenager as the realisation finally sets in. He’s suddenly overly aware of his surroundings as his body becomes hypersensitive with the conclusion that he must survive.

This must be a dream.

But nothing can deny the sure sound of foam soles walking up a concrete staircase and the muscles flexing in his legs and his bones creaking and the ache in his reddening ears from the cold and the smooth feeling of the railing on his fingertips. He’s really doing this.

He’s going to die.

The realisation ignites a panic in his brain but at the same time, he feels like his body is floating and he’s watching everything happen with a sort of apathy he’s gotten quite used to recently. Something about being released from the burden of having to live is quite peaceful.

Wiping all the feelings from his face, and repressing the rest with an ease that only comes from constant practice, the Midoriya child lets himself be empty and blurred, tip-toeing on the line between life and death. Does he truly exist? Even he doesn’t know.

Everything feels like static. The world is paused. Ringing fills his ears. He ignores it. Sweat pours out of his pores because try as he might, he can’t prevent fear. Every cell in his body is screaming at him to turn around and find another way out, to wait for a solution, but he’s been there. He’s done that. It didn’t work.

So Izuku powers on, and continues to walk up the steps of the tall building, concrete making a dull tapping noise each time he puts the foam sole of his bright red tennis shoe down. He stares numbly ahead, his hearing muffled as if underwater.

When the fifteen year old steps out onto the roof, ignoring the red sign stating that only authorized personnel are allowed past the door and feels the crisp cool winds of February air caress his reddening cheeks and comb through his hair, everything seems much clearer. The sun hangs lowly in the sky but its warm glow is covered by a thick layer of white and grey clouds. He looks around, admiring the view of the city dusted in frost.

He is unaware of a villain clad in black clothes racing as fast as he can to go save the boy who will never love him back. He is unaware of a hero clad in black clothes racing as fast as he can to go save a boy who will never truly trust him again.

Izuku is unaware of the two people he’s going to kill himself over, screaming out their lungs to tell him that they’re free and that he doesn’t need to jump.

With a long, loud squeak of protest from rust hinges, Izuku shuts the heavy door behind him. He walks forward, enjoying the sound of his shoes on the stone tiles of the roof piercing through the silence previously only interrupted by the wind.

There’s a hunched over figure already here. He’s not alone. It looks small and weak. Dimly, Izuku realises it’s an elementary student. The kid shivers violently. He can’t bring himself to care.

“Why are you here?” A quiet, childish voice asks. It’s empty and curious and cautious and painfully familiar.

“Same as you.” Izuku answers, looking to his right to where a short boy who can’t be more than about eight years old sits, feet precariously swinging off the edge of the seven story tall building. Bright eyes, full of horrors nobody should ever have to go through stare up at him.

He stares back down at the boy. There are bruises on his arms and burns coating his back. Dimly, the high schooler notices blood staining the child’s shorts. Ah. It makes sense now.

There’s a pair of shoes lined up neatly at the edge of the building.

“Are you going to stop me?’ The kid tilts his head innocently looking up at him with those dead, emotionless eyes.

“Do you wanna talk about it?” Izuku instead asks gently, taking off his own red tennis shoes and sitting next to the boy, swinging his feet off the edge of the building, one of them missing a white sock. Immediately the bright eyed boy bursts into tears and grabs onto him as if he’s the only thing tying him to this world. Perhaps he is.

“I didn’t- wanna, he said- I just wanted to-” The seven year old sobs into his shirt, wetting it with tears.

“It’s okay. You’re okay.” Izuku shushes the boy, patting his head and rubbing his back comfortingly. They sit in silence for a while, looking out at the view, the only noise being the shorter boy’s sniffling.

“What happened yesterday?” The ex business student asks curiously, it feels easy to ask questions, like there’s a script in front of him. Like he knows exactly what happened to this child.

“Sh-she yelled and screamed at m-me, and to-t-told me to k-k-kill myself, and that she’d k-kil her-herself buh-because of m-me.” Izuku ruffles the seven year old’s dark hair sympathetically as his eyes begin to water again. Warm tears soak through his sleeve and quickly grow cold as the wind blows on them, making the elder shiver slightly.

“I bet it felt worse to hear her say she’d kill herself and it’d be your fault rather than her threatening to kill you, huh?” Izuku asks, already knowing the answer, letting the dark haired boy lean on his arm. He offers no assurance towards the younger, feeling strangely detached from the situation.

“Yeah.” The little boy replies in a choked up voice, wiping his nose and trying to wipe his eyes that just won’t stop producing tears.

“It’s okay now. Nobody will hurt you for now. You can cry, and shout. You’re allowed to be angry.” The freckled teen says softly. And as if on cue the younger cries harder and yells into his shirt, screams until he’s hoarse and tired. Izuku looks on impassively, almost impatient, finally accepting his death as he stares it in the face and feels only welcomed.

“Feel better?” The little boy nods, wiping at his eyes gingerly. They’re not red or puffy but they’re raw from being wiped so many times.

It feels like hours of silence before either of them move, both drinking in the view of a white city that looks so peaceful but is anything but. A column of black smoke rises up from the depths of town and the area surrounding it is painted a rich ebony as if there’s a funeral and the deceased is being cremated. Perhaps that is the case. Perhaps the city is mourning.

“So?” Izuku prompts after a moment of silence as the younger stands up, still sniffling as stray tears drip down his cheeks, still round with baby fat.

“So what?” The younger asks absently, letting the air cool down his face as he closes his eyes and his mouth curves up contentedly. Blood streams down the seven year old’s thighs as he stands on the edge, wobbling with the wind, drops staining the grey concrete a dark red that will dry into an unpleasant brown. Izuku realises he recognizes the scene in front of him.

The fifteen year old stands up too, staring down at the boy with curly hair and bright eyes who regards the ground below them.

For a moment the world seems to hold its breath.

“Do it.” Izuku says in a wavering voice. The boy with dark green hair and green eyes looks up at him with a blank expression on his freckled face. He’s the one crying now, the younger’s eyes suddenly dry as he begins to fade away into nothingness with the wind, leaving him alone on the edge of the roof.