Daymare - IntrospectiveInquisitor - 僕のヒーローアカデミア | Boku no Hero Academia (2025)

Chapter 1

Chapter Text

"Ah, yes, isn't Mr. Midoriya also planning to apply for Yuuei?"

The world buzzed like a hive of static hornets, noises ringing ceaselessly in Izuku Midoriya's ears. There was a dissonance between the almost ignorable noise and the flickering colors that infected his retinas. He could vaguely hear loud voices pushing through the static, juxtaposed against the snarling, glaring visage of Katsuki Bakugou. His (friend not a friend not anymore but he's too pathetic to admit it can't even admit he has no friends) classmate was screaming in his face, something coarse and derogatory, which Midoriya didn't even need audio clues to parse out.

"-eally think you could ever be a hero, you fucking Quirkless loser?!" A moment of clarity bled through, and Kacchan's bellows rang unpleasantly in his ears. Izuku remembered after a moment to meet the furious red gaze, his eyes glassy and unfocused.

"I-I... There's n-nothing wrong with trying, right?" His own voice was barely a whimper, strung out and strung up on fraying wires. He knew that he could be heard only because Kacchan willed it. He knew that his words were the wrong ones to say, because explosions crackled in his face and forced him to flinch backwards. He knew that there was no such thing as a right answer when it came to Kacchan, so there was no point in trying to conjure one.

"That's your fucking problem, Deku. You fucking whine about 'trying' and 'doing your best' but you and I both know that you're fucking worthless, with your stupid shit eating smile and your garbage fucking dreams- JUST FUCK OFF ALREADY! I'm the only one in this shitty cesspool of a school that's gonna be a pro, and don't you fucking forget it." Midoriya vaguely noted the spittle that had flecked onto his desk, before twin eruptions rattled the whole thing and sent him shrinking back into his chair.

He said something else, perhaps something agreeable, because Kacchan's face twisted in an unpleasant manner before he stalked back to his seat. The world washed back into static, and Izuku Midoriya resumed staring numbly at his desk, counting the dots of ink that made up the cover of his notebook.

An indeterminate amount of time seamlessly smoothed over him, his crowded thoughts twisting together underneath the cover of static to leave him silent and motionless. He barely succeeded in stifling his unconscious murmurs, his tongue sore from the last time he'd bitten it in an attempt to stem his idiosyncrasy. The blood on his toothbrush was worth not being mocked for thinking out loud.

Lost in thought, he didn't even realize the class had begun emptying until a pair of explosive palms cracked against his desk, violently snapping him into reality. He glanced up with widened eyes, and found a scowl so familiar that it had long been etched onto the insides of his eyelids. "K-Kacchan--"

"Shut the fuck up, Deku." It would have been a venomous hiss, if not for Bakugou's infamous lack of volume control. "And stop calling me that stupid shitty nickname! We're not fucking kids anymore, you fucking quivering idiot! But I guess you didn't get the memo, because you still fucking prance around with fucking," Kacchan's hand darted out to twist in strands of mossy green curls, yanking Midoriya's head up and dragging a pained cry out of his throat, "clips in your hair like a goddamn TODDLER! It's time for your shitty ass to grow the fuck up, DEKU. And the first step.."

Izuku gasped when the burning pressure on his scalp was relieved, slumping back into his chair only for a strangled, half formed plea to escape when those same cruel fingers snatched up his notebook. "K-Kacchan, wait!"

"..Is to give up on your STUPID SHITTY DREAMS!" Sparks burst to life in Bakugou's clenched palm, scorching the notebook in his hand until the cover was curling and the pages were smoking. Izuku stared in something like disbelief, tears welled up in his eyes and tracking down his face in ugly blobs. He was shocked into motion when Kacchan thundered over to the classroom's window, Izuku nearly falling out of his desk in a mad, uncoordinated scramble. "If you really want a quirk so bad," Bakugou snarled, something twisted and almost gleeful in his bared teeth, a vicious mockery of a grin, "then why don't you dive off the fucking roof and look for one in your next life!" With a flick of his wrist the ruined notebook plummeted out the window, landing with an audible splash in the pond beneath it. "Maybe in your next life, you'll be born as someone who isn't shitty and hopeless."

Izuku stood numbly in place, legs frozen in position to send him leaping to save his notebook. Streams of saline trickled down his face, his lips trembling and colorless. He barely reacted when Kacchan brushed past him, rocking in place when a shoulder harshly knocked him out of the way. The slam of the classroom door echoed for a moment, before it was all consumed by static.

But, in the end, it was all okay. Izuku didn't need Kacchan to believe in him. He could endure the abuse, and the mockery, and the battering of his lifelong dreams.

After all, he already knew it was better than what he deserved.
--
Izuku Midoriya had worn the title ''Quirkless' since his preschool days, when no sign of a manifesting Quirk had ever come forth. His mother had taken him to a dozen doctors that had all reached the same conclusion: despite all evidence to the contrary, Izuku Midoriya was truly without a Quirk. He had watched his mother's hopes dim until they barely flickered, until she had taken him in her arms and cried, wishing things could be different.

He too had shed tears during those tumultuous months. But they were for very different reasons. His dream to be a hero, his admiration for All Might- they had all but crumbled when, indeed, his Quirk did manifest. Young as he was, he could not truly formulate the thoughts and words so as to properly describe what his Quirk was; all he knew was that his Quirk was something so horrible, so wretched and evil, that he could never use it again.

Shaken by what he had come to think bitterly of as his 'curse', he had hidden under the guise of Quirklessness, almost relieved to be absolved of the terror that slept under his skin. He had, at some points, attempted to learn about his power. He'd tested it under cover of dark and obscurity, where he was sure nothing would be damaged by it. Unfortunately, the damage to himself was harder to avoid.

Nobody ever really questioned why he wore long sleeves and full pants year round, or why he constantly had colorful clips haphazardly stuck in his hair. It was simply chalked up to his abnormalities, filed away with his quivering grins and straying attention. He was simply the Quirkless weirdo loser, and that was easy enough to be. It was easier than acknowledging the crisscrossing latticework of scars underneath his clothing. It was easier than revealing why his presence made others uncomfortable, why everything about him felt dimmer and gloomier, a penumbra of hopelessness eclipsing the world in proximity.

It was so much easier to dismiss his gaudy, childish accessories as strangeness than a last ditch effort to keep all his color from leeching away, and tearing the barely functional smile from his face. It was easier to see Kacchan's face twisted in rage and awash with fury, than to see it pale and drawn and lined with fear.

But nothing had ever totally snuffed out the flame of his longing to help others; nothing could be more noble than saving people from harm, saving them from fear. He spent as many moments of lucidity as he could studying heroes, their Quirks and personalities and fighting styles and weaknesses and relationships with one another. He knew it would be next to impossible to be a hero without using his own power, which was why he had to know anything and everything there was that could give him even the slightest leg up.

And perhaps, if he managed to stand on his own two feet among the brilliant, shining light of heroes, it would chase away the roiling darkness that constricted him from the inside out.
--
"--ust a little more time, a few months and I can apply and I can--everything will be better, it'll be better, I won't let Kacchan ruin everything, I just have to--" Izuku's distorted thought process leaked from between his teeth, surface level thoughts surrounding him in a cloud as he attempted to work through the ones stewing deeper within. His ruined notebook was clutched in one hand, pages still damp from when he'd fished it out of the pond. It was... salvageable, he lied to himself, too weak to simply throw it away and start it from scratch.

The steady vibration of his own voice was grounding in a way that the distant sunshine and sound of cicadas never could be, which made it so much harder when he attempted to quell the nervous habit. He was quickly running out of things to cling to when his thoughts turned to static, leaving him numb and unaware of what happened around him. It was only the sound of his own voice that kept him in the moment, bouncing off the cement tunnel that surrounded him.

But then another voice joined it, one that sent an icy shiver down his spine. "Ooh, now that's a pretty handy vessel you got there, kid! Say, why don't you keep those gums flappin' and make things easier on me? I promise to make it quick!" Izuku had only a split second to look up before his entire world turned cloudy and green, a deathly chill permeating his clothes and crushing him inwards. His scream was muffled by fluids that rushed down his esophagus and through his nostrils, steadily forcing the oxygen from his thrashing body.

He was dying, he was dying he was going to die a villain had him, a villain that was choking him and he couldn't draw breath, fluids filling his lungs and everything tingled and ached, his vision darkening as panic wailed in his mind, he was going to die he was gonna DIE he had to had to had to had to-

"What the hell--" The villain's incredulous question swiftly bled into a warbling scream of agony, his liquid form vibrating wildly as the silhouette of Izuku Midoriya ballooned outwards, all humanoid features swallowed up by hard angles and bloated, twisted appendages. It thrashed and clawed apart the liquid prison encasing it, rending the villain to pieces even as he howled senselessly. Something dark was birthed in the air, a thousand screaming voices blended together into the cacophony of death. Their wailing song filled the entire tunnel, shook every molecule, permeated every crack of existence with despair and terror. The criminal had one last moment of clarity before his form exploded into steaming chunks of coagulating sludge, his eyes popping and sizzling like overcooked sausages and his brain shriveling into a smoking lump.

And Izuku Midoriya was left kneeling on the soaked concrete, his chest and abdomen heaving as he spat up mouthfuls of fluid mixed with his own bile. His hands trembled as he scraped his nails desperately against the concrete, frantic for something to pull him back into himself. His head rang like a fleet of gongs, a thousand thoughts shrieking through his head, thoughts of horror and regret and disgust and self loathing because he'd done it again, he'd hurt someone else he'd become somethingHORRIBLE--

"DO NOT FEAR, CITIZEN. FOR I, AM HE--" A thunderous declaration, ringing with confidence and charisma, came to a halt so abrupt that the aborted effort was left to ring off the tunnel walls. A monolithic form clad in a spandex uniform of bright, primary colors peered down the tunnel, a chiseled, grinning face quickly lining itself with concern upon spotting the splattered villain and the middle-schooler knelt among the remains. All Might swiftly compartmentalized the gruesome lumps of fried organ tissue, and directed his laser focus to the trembling youth. "Young man, fear not! You are safe now!"

Izuku's head snapped up in disbelief, wide, glassy green eyes widening painfully upon the sight of the Number One hero, in the flesh. In any other situation, his elation would have nearly torn him in half. But all he could feel was fear and panic, had he seen had All Might seen what he'd become, seen his shame his curse his sin- His brain finally caught on the words spoken to him, and he managed to gasp out a reply around the urge to continue vomiting. "I-I-I-I didn't--All Might--I-I I'm sorry, I'm sorry I'm s-sorry I didn't mean to--I didn't mean to I didn't mean to I'm s-s-sorry I--"

All Might closed the distance in the blink of an eye, laying a gentle gloved hand on Midoriya's violently trembling shoulders. "Calm down, young man, it's alright. You are safe now." His mind blanked on finding more comforting words, his deeply set gaze lingering to the surely deceased remains of the villain he'd been hunting before he returned it to the hysterically sobbing boy in front of him. He settled a steady grip on the boy's shoulder, hyper aware of his swiftly dwindling time limit. "It's alright, young man, I know you must be unsettled but I promise everything is okay."

"I-I killed him," Izuku choked out, his haunted tone pulled down by a thousand barbed hooks. His voice rang weakly down the tunnel, an echo of his crushing misery, an inverse of the screaming hatred that had previously swelled within. He could not see through his veil of tears, could barely feel the grip of gloved fingers around his shoulder, kept grounded only by his broken apologies as the world was washed in static.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry--"

Chapter 2

Chapter Text

The sun has only just begun to set, its blinding girth bloating from the curvature of the earth as it impacted the horizon. Fingers of orange light stretched across the darkening sky, casting long shadows across the earth while it yet remained to illuminate the ground. All Might could feel the sun at his back, the warm glow of late spring slowly transitioning to the humid heat of summer. And yet it was not enough to carve through the frigid shell that had locked him in place. The air hung damp and oily around him, moved only by the force of choked, dwindling sobs.

The professional hero had moved to gently rub his palm against a trembling shoulder, his grip firm enough to keep the boy from collapsing, but loose enough to not feel demanding. He patiently waited out the storm of tears that had consumed the boy, and offered soft platitudes while simultaneously tracking his time and attempting to get a solid handle on the situation.

There was a long moment of silence when Izuku's hiccups faded off into silent sniveling, his chest thick with exhaustion and terror both. When he had managed to scrape a handful of composure off the soiled ground, he glanced up to attempt to meet his idol's gaze, his eyes glazed and pupils quivering. "..A-are you going to arrest me?" The wrong words the wrong WORDS he'd meant to say something, anything, a lie tell him it's okay feeling better but his fear was too demanding--

All Might blinked in shock, his neon blue pupils scanning the naked terror on the boy's face. "Let's not be too hasty now! You merely acted in self defense, did you not?" He knew it wasn't what he should say, but he didn't know what he should say, hadn't ever encountered a situation like this before--but there was no possible way that he could pin a child with the weight of death. What kind of hero would that make him?

Izuku made a twitchy motion that equated to nodding his head, his muscles feeling loose and alien. It was familiar in a dreamish way, which made a strange sort of sense; it was always a nightmare when he used his Quirk. "Y-yes... he attacked me, an-and I thought I was g-going to drown.. I'm sorry, I'm s-so sorry, I didn't mean t-to--"

All Might squeezed the boy's shoulder, his blinding grin softened into something meant to be comforting. For a moment he cursed his own stone carved visage, wishing he could more appropriately express the reassurance the boy so sorely needed. "Can you tell me your name, young man?"

Izuku blinked, momentarily jarred out of his downward spiral. The booming, confident voice wasn't as loud as he usually heard it on videos, but the solid weight to it was enough for him to latch on, to remember who he was talking to. He flushed enough to bring some much needed life to his face, and slowly rose to stand. "A-ah.. Izuku. Izuku Midoriya." He offered a barely stitched together smile of thanks when he felt that sturdy hand assist in his ascension, feeling marginally less nauseous on his feet.

"Well, young Midoriya, you have nothing to fear. You acted within your rights in self defense. While it is true that the situation is... unfortunate," and for a moment All Might seemed to dim, to almost match the haze that surrounded Izuku before his heroic light shone through again, "you will not be held accountable. The fault lies with me; this is a villain I had previously captured, and foolishly allowed to escape. You have my sincerest apologies."

And for a moment the haze was gone because All Might had BOWED, had apologized to Izuku and he could feel his admiration blossom forth, and no matter how badly it had been stained it was genuine and filled every inch of him with a semblance of vigor. "Y-y-y-you--Mr. All Might y-you don't have to apologize i-it's my fault I should have walked my normal route it's really okay oh gosh I really can't even believe I'm talking to you right now it's kind of a dream come true although this is kinda different than how I imagined but it's still so wonderful to meet you I'm such a huge fan and I-I've always wanted to be a hero like you and--"

All Might boomed out a laugh, clapping young Midoriya on the back with enough force to send the boy rocking forward. "It's always wonderful to meet a fan! But, ahem, on a more serious note.. what happened today was a very unfortunate accident, and I don't place any of the blame on you! But it's very important for a boy of your age to be very mindful of their Quirk. You're at a volatile stage, and learning to control your power is paramount. Please, be sure to keep that in mind!" All Might flashed a thumbs up, steamrolling through words as he practically felt the seconds slip away. He turned to leap heroically out of the tunnel-

Iuzku froze as if he'd been splashed with liquid nitrogen. His Quirk--All Might hadn't seen, right? There was no way, he had to have missed it, if he'd witnessed Izuku's shame then surely the hero would have taken him into custody, or just smeared him across the pavement. Every inch of him trembled and sagged except for his smile, which fell in increments until only the underwire remained. He couldn't-he couldn't stay in the dark any longer. He had to know, had to ask All Might, had to be sure that everything he had ever dreamed wasn't worthless--

All Might made the seamless transition from earth to sky with a rocketing burst of power, soaring unhindered through the air. At least until he noticed the hindering weight on his leg, his eyes widening at the sight of young Midoriya clinging on for dear life. "What the--hey, this isn't a taxi service! Let go!"

Izuku shook his head resolutely, teeth gritted together to ignore the sting of windburn on his exposed face. It was nothing, it was nothing compared to the pain of uncertainty, the agony every time he had to see himself in the mirror, see his mangled torso and imagine it coming apart--

All Might narrowed his eyes at the boy's bullheaded behavior, altering his trajectory in mid air to take him down to the roof of a nearby apartment complex. He landed at a full stop, taking a moment to be sure young Midoriya hadn't been scraped across the roof before he peeled the boy off his leg. "Young man, that was very reckless of you, not to mention it's an obstruction of heroic duty!"

Izuku regained his bearings after a few moments of nausea, the sudden change in both speed and altitude leaving his empty stomach roiling in discomfort. His anxiety spiked at the hero's stern words, tears welling reflexively at the sound of a raised voice. He pushed past it with nothing but muddy handfuls of determination, and tried to speak louder than the heart crashing into his ribs.

"I-I'm really sorry Mr. All Might sir, b-but I have to--I have to ask you something very important! I have to know!" Izuku squeezed his eyes shut, cutting off the swimming colors in his vision before they could disorient him. "I have to know.. can I--is it possible to be a hero... w-without using a Quirk?" There was a moment when all he could hear was blood pulsing in his ears, the hammer blows of his heart leaving him dizzy and lightheaded. The only answer was the hiss of static. Only it sounded more like.. steam?

Midoriya cracked open one eye, planting his feet more firmly in an attempt to halt the shaking of his legs. He barely managed a glimpse of color before both eyes flew wide open, gazing intently at the gaunt, sickly looking man in front of him. "W-wha..."

All Might grimaced heavily, the expression coming much easier from a face that seemed handcrafted for frowning. His uniform hung off him like a sheet, revealing swathes of the plainclothes he had on underneath. A heavy sigh worked its way past his teeth, which quickly became stained with blood when the sigh broke into a hacking cough. "Well.. here's number two of the things I wasn't expecting today. I'd really appreciate if we could keep this between the two of us, kid." He finally looked up to gauge young Midoriya's reaction, only to find something... unexpected.

Once All Might had pushed past his own inadequacy he could see the expected shock and disbelief in young Midoriya's face, but there was no confusion, no lack of understanding. He gazed past the cloudiness in expressive green eyes and found instead a bone deep misery. There was an ache that twisted in his chest because no one so young should carry that sort of upset(like the whole world had fallen apart, and every shard he found had crumbled to dust in his hands).

"Y-you... All Might.." Izuku attempted to put together the puzzle in his head with only a handful of pieces, jamming together cardboard squares so the gears in his head wouldn't just--stop, and grind their teeth to nubs. He (pretends puts on a smile acts like he hasn't always known that everything is a lie and misery and fear are the only truths) cleared his throat, words bubbling up out of the cesspool in his rib cage. "A-are you okay? Do you--are you hurt? D-do you need a doctor?"

For a long moment, the only thing All Might could do was stare, before he laughed. He could taste the copper on his tongue and feel the rattle in his chest, but the laugh was clear and genuine. "Jeez kid, I get the feelin' selflessness is more an obsession than a virtue for you, huh? I'm as fine as I can be, given the circumstances." Figuring that his hand was already laid out, All Might adjusted a few layers of fabric to reveal the twisted scar on his abdomen, deep and gnarled and debilitating. "This is a wound I got, around five years ago. The hit I took just about knocked my lungs out of commission, and destroyed my stomach. Due to the medical complications, my power is... lessened. I perform heroic duties for around three hours a day, and the rest of the time.." He gestured plainly at himself, expression blank. "This is what I get to deal with."

"Y-you.. five years ago?" Izuku breathed, the exclamation more to buy himself time to remember than anything. "There's no way Toxic Chainsaw did t-that."

"Dedicated fan, I see. You're right, he didn't. The guy that did... it's kinda something that's out of the public eye for a reason. But to answer your question.." All Might's expression turned grave, his voice falling with something almost bitter. "The men and women that risk their lives to protect ordinary people use every bit of the power they were given. They train tirelessly to push themselves, to not only succeed in the use of their Quirks, but to excel. And even then, sometimes it's barely enough. Earlier, if you hadn't used your own Quirk in self defense... I really hate to say it, but I'm not sure I would have made it in time. I know what happened was awful, but I don't want you to take the blame for it. With power like yours, I have no doubt you could be trained into an excellent hero, so don't feel ashamed or scared of your Quirk. There are plenty of schools and academies that can teach you to use it properly."

Every word was a gouging blade, cutting across the lines marking Izuku's torso until he was sure he'd unravel, left in a pile like scraps of meat ribbons. His eyes brimmed with fresh tears, hot and ugly and trailing down his face like salted slugs. How could he expect All Might to understand when he didn't even know? "I-I just.. I want to help people n-not feel scared--" His voice, broken into chunks, was barely held together into decipherable sounds.

"That's a noble goal, but it'd be pretty difficult if you don't use your power to ensure the safety of others. Whatever you're thinking, whatever you're feeling, I promise it isn't that bad. If you can't wait to apply, then try looking into Quirk counselling, alright? It's nothing to be ashamed of." All Might heaved a rattling sigh, and performed a cursory inspection of young Midoriya's expression. Considering the wide, glassy eyes and trembling facial muscles, he doubted his words really got through to the kid. As much as empathy tugged at his chest, he couldn't micro manage every young hopeful with starry eyes and noble dreams. "Get home safe, alright?" All Might offered up a slightly pitiful looking thumbs up before he made for the rooftop exit, the door slamming shut behind him.

Izuku stared emptily at the metal door, static wailing in his ears. He was frozen in place for several long minutes before his bones fell apart like linkin logs and left him lying limp on the rooftop. He couldn't hear his own breathing, couldn't feel his own chest rise and fall. It was like he'd just sunken into the ground, pulled under by the grinding whisper of concrete and consumed by the maw of wet soil.

Chapter 3

Chapter Text

"--hy don't we head to the arcade so you can forget about that loser?" One of Katsuki's lackey's suggested, a stupid looking smirk on his face. Katsuki couldn't even remember which one he was; those fucking extras weren't worth remembering anyway.

"Or we could sneak into the bar down by the station, and pick up some chicks!" The Other One suggested, his voice raking against Katsuki's brain like steel talons. Idiot Shithead (he was pretty sure that was the moron's given title, at least) glanced at Katsuki with a leery grin, which only further stoked his blazing temper.

"Would you two just SHUT THE FUCK UP? I'm so goddamn sick of your shitty fucking suggestions. Newsflash, genius; guess what happens if I get caught fucking around in a bar tryin' to get my dick wet? I DON'T GET INTO U.A., THAT'S FUCKING WHAT!" Bakugou's face twisted into a deathly scowl, his nostrils flaring as his chest heaved with anger. Idiot Shithead took a step back (not far enough, asshole) and raised his hands protectively, an infuriatingly nervous smile on his face. "Don't even FUCKING open your mouth because I know somethin' stupid is gonna come out. I'm really NOT in the mood, so both of you just fuck off."

Dipshit Fuckhole (the one with the gross ass thumb, Katsuki vaguely placed) raised his voice in turn. "Hey c'mon Bakugou, just cuz' you're all pissy about your little Deku doesn't mean you gotta be an asshole to us!"

Katsuki froze in place, his anger stalling before he managed to shift it into the next gear. His smile was dangerous, too many teeth on display as muffled crackles emitted from his clenched fists. "I'm sorry, I think we've got some miscommunication here--YOU TWO DON'T HAVE SOME KINDA SPECIAL FUCKIN' PRIVILEGE, GOT IT?! I'll say whatever the FUCK I want, and if you two sniveling fuckwads don't wanna hear it, then GO EAT SHIT!"

Katsuki glared them down with heaving breaths, every inch of him tensed like a spring loaded firearm. And the two fucking morons apparently had enough brain cells between them to have figured out not to fuck with him. He barked out a laugh so violent it was almost a shout when they left without a word, turning back down the alley they'd been cutting through. "Fucking idiot shitheads talking back, who the fuck do they think they are?"

Katsuki turned to amble (hardly an amble from the rigid set of his shoulders and stomping footsteps) back towards his previous destination, intent on making it home on time to steal a serving of dinner to eat in his room and be fucking left alone to go to sleep. He made it halfway there when a head of ridiculous curls caught his eye, nearly black but still showing a shimmer of green in the sunlight. He could see those stupid fucking clips, and he could see the droop of weak little shoulders and Katsuki felt his internal flame rev up in fury.

"HEY, FUCKING SHITTY DEKU!"

Izuku halted so quickly it was as if he'd lost power, left to sit idly in the middle of the sidewalk as Kacchan's shout cracked him across the back. He can't--he can't handle twice in one day, not after everything that had happened, but he knew running wouldn't help. So he merely sat in place, trembling and squeezing his eyes shut and wishing he could just go home and sleep.

He could feel every footstep impact the pavement as though they were crunching on his skull, his teeth nearly chattering because the fear in his chest was too hot, too noxious, and his smile was barely holding onto threads. He had to do something, the thought flitted wildly through his head, and it was with animalistic desperation that he pivoted around to offer his sliver of a smile to a furious Bakugou. "K-Kacchan, please."

Katsuki stopped in his death march for a moment, his head tilting in question but even that was furious, the veins in his neck prominent and his teeth grinding together. "Fuck off, Deku. If you're beggin' for mercy it's not gonna fucking cut it. You really pissed me off today, and that's proof enough I need to kick your ass to put you back in your fucking place."

"Kacchan please," Izuku blurted again, his desperation flooding through the holes in his smile and seeping from the tear ducts in his sockets. "Please I'm sorry for making you angry you can beat me up some other time, I won't even run away, please Kacchan I'm just so tired, I-I'm so tired, I c-can't--" He poured every ounce of himself into his smile, his composure slipping as he dissolved into ugly sobs, heaving and exhausted and emotionally ravaged.

Katsuki snarled in irritation at the pathetic pleas, explosions cracking in his open palm before the first sob ripped out of Deku's worthless little body. And it was enough to give him pause, because Katsuki couldn't count how many times he'd made Deku cry, how many times he'd seen obnoxious tears roll down his face with that stupid smile still in place. But.. Deku had never cried in great heaving gasps, frantically sucking in air just so he wouldn't drown in his own tears. That infuriating smile looked fucking wrong, barely even a smile, it only counted by the faintest technicality. He.. for a second, his anger skipped a beat, leaving him silent and staring and unsure.

And in Katsuki's eyes, that was even more grounds for being infuriated. "Just SHUT THE FUCK UP ALREADY! Your fucking sobbing is disgusting and so are you. What, do you think you can be a fucking hero by crying whenever a villain threatens you? You'd be lucky if they even bothered to laugh before they fucking killed you, you moronic shithead!" Katsuki surged forward, slamming a palm into Deku's chest before the blubbering idiot could even move. He stumbled backwards and almost lost his balance, before realizing there hadn't been any fire behind the blow. Katsuki sneered at the lost look behind his shitty tears. "Don't think that was me letting you off the hook, you shitty nerd. You're just too fucking pathetic and annoying to deal with today. So go fuck off home and cry where I don't have to look at you."

Izuku almost, almost thanked him, because it was the closest thing to 'considerate' that Kacchan had been in ten years, the last time being when he had only acted like he was going to throw Izuku's slice of birthday cake in the trash the day after he turned thirteen. But he knew how Kacchan thought, how gratitude and concern made him explode with rage, so he only mumbled something incomprehensible and staggered away, breaking into a run when he was sure his chest wouldn't collapse from the force of his crying. Kacchan's gaze burned into his back until he made it out of sight.

Izuku's crying fit eventually ebbed off by the time he made it back to his apartment, and he spent a few minutes in front of the door wiping at his face until he didn't look like a total wreck. He managed to contort his face into something pleasant to greet his mother, and stumbled through a short conversation before falling into his room. The sight of his plethora of All Might memorabilia pinged through his chest like a ricocheting bullet, an endless reminder of the day's events. As if he ever would have forgotten anyway. Izuku collapsed into his bed, exhaustion creeping around the darkness that already consumed the edges of his consciousness. He managed a single self deprecating thought before he fell asleep.
--
In the ten months leading up to the U.A. entrance exam, nobody really noticed anything different about Izuku Midoriya. There was little concern about him whatsoever, which for once proved to be an immense relief. Nobody said much when he began showing up with more and more clips in his hair, bright and gaudy and wholly out of place. Someone snickered for a few minutes when he began wearing neon colored rubber bracelets that had been out of style for years, but otherwise it flew under the radar. His occasional muttering and constant scribbling were so commonplace that nobody paid attention to the five additional notebooks he carried around.

Perhaps subconsciously there was notice of his diminishing vocal efforts. Even when addressed directly, he rarely said more than a few words, in sharp contrast to his previous, cautiously friendly demeanor. He didn't seem particularly angry or aggressive, but there was an unconscious warning, hanging tattered from his shoulders, that suggested for others to stay away. Even Kacchan didn't spend much time tormenting him, ever since the day he'd first pulled a punch. Izuku could only remember one significant incident, when he'd shown up to school with various colorful stickers haphazardly applied to his face and Kacchan had mocked him, but it was virtual radio silence compared to previous days.

In some sense, Izuku was relieved. Being the constant target of negative attention had never been pleasant, even if there was a self flagellating part of him that begged for it, demanded it to make up for the horror of his Quirk. He wasn't even lonelier, really, considering he hadn't had any friends since he'd been four years old. The fact of the matter was, Izuku flourished in small, important ways when nobody noticed him.

And it was with that strange confidence, the knowledge of social invisibility, that led to Izuku doing something he could never have imagined. Faced with the reality of destroying his own dreams if he never used his Quirk, he had swallowed his fear in a single desperate moment, and decided to make a concerted effort to learn how to use it. It couldn't just be him locked in a terror coma and destroying everything around him. There had to be more to it than destruction, than the unraveling of his muscle fibers and the rearranging of his insides and the marks that tore apart his torso like angry, puckered scars that he wasn't even sure were real, didn't know if they only existed in his own visual feedback.

It was seven months before he even came close to a breakthrough. Every brain rattling, soul shattering moment he spent with his Quirk activated had never failed to lead to extreme nausea and a disorienting disconnect from his own body afterwards, never mind the complete lack of awareness when he was using it. He could only remember glimpses and flashes, howling voices and something-wet, pulsating, covered in spines that dripped with fluid.

He'd taken to practicing on an abandoned beach turned dumping yard, figuring that nobody would notice if a bunch of trash got destroyed or knocked around. His first time using it, he'd nearly shaken out of his own skin, and woke up surrounded by flakes of rust that had once been abandoned appliances, and the sight of a half dozen dead fish washing up on shore. It took two weeks before he was brave enough to do it again.

Every time felt hopeless, scraping away at his insides and leaving him sick with fear and exhaustion until all he wanted to do was cry and sleep for the rest of his life. It was during that seventh month that his frustration and anger had boiled over, his head flaring with a toxic concoction of rage and fear that left him surrounded by a crater of sand, and with a quarter of the garbage on the beach turned to dust. He realized, with the sort of clarity that only came when he was removed from his own twitching, vomit soaked body, that his Quirk was somehow modified by intent.

He'd been angry, and thus he'd been destructive. It wasn't much to go on, but it was something more than the dread festering inside of him, making him wish he was anyone else, making him wish he really was Quirkless so he could at least give up with no regrets. It was hope, hope that pushed him to break himself apart over and over, to feel woozy and fuzzy for almost every waking moment that he could excuse it, all for the sake of being something more.

Because hating himself would be worth it, if he could make sure nobody else ever felt the fear that he did.

Chapter 4

Chapter Text

The day of the entrance exam dawned with blisteringly cold winds and overcast skies, rendering the world a muted gray that washed out the natural vibrancy of color. The wind was swift and biting, nipping harshly at any ounce of exposed flesh that it could find and leaving it red and stinging.

Luckily, Izuku had been obsessive about checking the weather in the week leading up to the exam, and had purchased a scarf marked in nauseatingly bright pinks and yellows to keep his face from freezing. It clashed horribly with the black of his school uniform, but he knew well enough that it served a much higher purpose than being fashionable. Even so, he had at least made an effort to brush his hair and line his clips up neatly on either side of his head, a rainbow of color marking both sides. He'd placed clusters of tiny stickers underneath his ears, hoping that his scarf and hair would keep them mostly concealed. The potential embarrassment of being mocked for his poor fashion was nothing compared to the relief it provided him. He'd have dumped buckets of paint over his head, if he'd thought it would be sufficient to lessen the burden of the shadows that clung to his limbs.

The train he'd taken was populated with scatterings of other examinees, and he shrunk down in his seat the entire time to avoid garnering any attention. Much to his relief, Kacchan hadn't been on the same train, and everyone else had paid him no mind. Staring at his impersonal phone feed was mildly depressing, but it was better than having to make eye contact, or small talk.

The walk up to the building itself was nerve wracking, and Izuku struggled to divert energy into walking while also staving off a panic attack. Of course, his usual method of internal pep talk boiled down to listing the absolute worst case scenarios, which oddly helped mellow him out. If he imagined being struck by a meteor or having villains string him up like butcher's stock, it took the edge off his nerves about the exam. It was foolproof.

At least until he lost focus and began muttering out loud, several vaguely morbid statements intertwined with useless trivia knowledge slipping free without his say so. "--Gutter Mouth would probably single us out considering her Quirk is more suited to single targets, so she might bring Javelion--wait wasn't he from the silver age? Oh gosh I hope I didn't get my timeline mixed up but I was so sure she was in the same era--" He noticed about four seconds too late that the laces on his bulky red sneakers had loosened, and he was left staring at the upcoming ground with dull acceptance.... for quite a while, actually.

"Heey, you alright?" A female voice called out to him in a tone more cheerful than any he'd ever heard directed at him before. His immediate reaction was to assume it was mockery, and she had caught him by the backpack and was going to drop him as soon as he looked up-- "Sorry about, uh, using my Quirk on you without permission!" Steady hands gently righted him, before the tug of gravity pulled him back onto his own feet. He stared up with bulging eyes at the sweetly smiling girl in front of him, and vaguely admired her hairstyle. "I just figured you wouldn't mind not hitting the ground."

Something in her voice--it was teasing, but not... malicious. She hadn't hurt him, or made fun of him, but she was teasing so-was she making a joke? Not at his expense? Izuku stared at her in a sort of dazed wonder, before reality snapped him like a rubber band. "A-ah, sorry, uhm, thank you very much!" His face didn't know what kind of smile to pull itself into, so it just became something half thankful, and half terrified.

"No problem!" She soothed, her genuine grin making him feel both inadequate and strangely warm inside. "Hey, good luck on the exam! See you inside!" She performed a cutesy little wave and bounced away, leaving him awestruck in place. He made a strangled noise when she was already twenty feet away, and managed to make his legs move about five seconds after.

Unfortunately, the foot hooking in front of his leg helped to undo his tentative balance, sending him crashing straight into the bricks underneath him. He landed half on his face and half on one hand that skidded from the impact, leaving the palm stinging and his forehead aching. "Better fucking pay attention, Deku. That's just a taste of the shit you'll be eating later." Izuku managed to recover in time to see Kacchan's spiky hair enter the building, his heart pulsing pathetically in his chest. He rose with slow, controlled movements, and quietly waved off a few words of concern from other test takers around him. He--Kacchan couldn't slow him down anymore. He'd get up, and he'd keep moving. Even if it killed him.
--
Izuku eventually shuffled into the orientation room, a fair sized antechamber (he was pretty sure it was an antechamber, not that he was really too knowledgeable about architecture) filled with numerous seats in front of an open stage. He noticed with a spike of panic that the majority of them were already filled, and he scurried to take one far away from Kacchan.

Before long someone came up on stage (Present Mic, Izuku's hero research compartment supplied) and began greeting them with so much enthusiasm that Izuku wasn't sure if it was forced or not. Either way it garnered no reaction, but Present Mic moved on without breaking stride. It was oddly admirable, even if his loud and over-the-top presentation hurt Izuku's ears.

Strangely enough Present Mic kept the explanation pretty succinct, even if he threw in some 'whacky' lingo that Izuku vaguely recalled hearing from his radio show. The explanation was interrupted partway by an extremely loud and terse boy that Izuku didn't recognize, but the stern, bold demeanor made him wilt a little at the thought of what the rest of the competition would be like. Well, he already knew, didn't he? If there was anyone even remotely like Kacchan, then he was pretty sure he'd just pass out before the exam began.

No, he just had to-he had to be smart. To be clever. His Quirk, however he could use it to his advantage without hurting others--he would. He'd spent hundreds of hours learning as much as he could about heroes, and Quirks in general. He had over a thousand pages filled with theories and strategies and tactics that he'd burned into his brain, helping him avoid reliance on a powerful Quirk alone. He just had to think of it as--an asset, instead of something to be afraid of. He would conquer the terror, he would rein in his fear, and he'd use it for something good, something better than he ever could without it. He could feel sparks of determination in his veins, the kind of thing that made his limbs shake with anticipation instead of dread. He would-he would. He would!
--
Every ounce of tentative determination in Izuku Midoriya's guts was swallowed whole by roiling stomach acids, his stomach battering the rest of his internal organs as he stared up at the gigantic gate that would lead them into the city block sized testing area. He was surrounded by at least fifty other applicants, the vast majority of them looking cool, calm, collected, and confident. He could already feel sweat beading under his hideously mismatched sweatsuit, his smile teetering back and forth. Everyone else looked so-well, heroic. He probably just looked like a colorblind idiot that had no idea what to do with his hair.

He scratched gently underneath his ear, fingers trembling as he brushed the slick surface of the stickers. Something bright, something colorful, something on him that didn't make everything around it worse-He glanced up for a moment, eyes catching on the same girl that had helped him out front. She probably didn't even realize he'd eaten pavement regardless, but-it was the thought that mattered. He nervously brushed his scraped palm against the leg of his pants, and made a tentative approach-

"Hey!" A voice cut through the chatter, but did not silence it. That could only mean it was directly behind him. Izuku flinched around to locate the source, blanching when he saw the same stern, humorless face that had interrupted the orientation. "What do you think you're doing, going to bother that girl? Can't you tell she's preparing for the exam!? Are you attempting to get her off balance, to lessen the competition?" He raised his head at an angle, sunlight glinting off his glasses in a bizarrely menacing display.

A vague part of Izuku wanted to point out that the guy was jumping to a lot of conclusions very quickly, but the rest of him realized that the guy was dizzyingly tall and muscular so instead he squeaked something in fear, tears already budding forth. "N-no! I just wanted to t-thank her for--"

His defense was cut short the moment Present Mic put himself back over the airwaves, his voice as loud and wild as it had been before. At least there were no acoustics outside, Izuku reflected with mild optimism, which soon became wild panic when he realized he'd completely zoned out and everyone was already running into the course and wasn't there supposed to be some kind of countdown or something!? His upper body threw itself into action before his legs even remembered to move, and he ate cement for a second time that morning.

For a moment he wanted nothing more than to just sob into the ground and go home, maybe shift his aspirations towards gardening, where he at least couldn't make himself look stupid. But he had to move forward, he had to chase the light, he couldn't let it slip away without even trying. Izuku burst into action with a choked cry, launching himself low across the ground before even properly righting himself. It wasn't fast enough to catch up, but he could at least get in and clean up any enemies that have been left behind. If he couldn't be the eagle, then he would be the vulture.

That poetic line of thinking ground to a swift and sudden halt as a robot burst through the fabricated storefront just ten feet in front of him, sleek and mobile and about four times his size. He blanched at the realization that he couldn't exactly use his Quirk without losing most of his basic motor functions and all of his breakfast afterwards, and ducked away with a shriek when the automaton buzzed towards him. But something else buzzed as well, a high pitched noise that was instantaneously followed by the robot bursting into scrap in an explosion of dazzling light.

Izuku whipped his head around to see a boy with extremely carefully coiffed hair and a giant silver belt around his waist that was slowly dimming in the center. He managed a questioning noise when the boy winked at him, his voice rising in something of a... French accent? "Bonjour, mon ami! Gracias for the assist--I like your hair clips too! Such a shame I won't be seeing much of you from now on!" The boy laughed and skipped away, firing brilliant lasers down a side street.

"I-isn't that Spanish?" Midoriya wondered out loud because his thought processes had hit a fatal snag, until the sound of further explosions sent the gears whirring. He didn't have any points it'd been like four minutes and he hadn't done ANYTHING! He spun around to look for a route that wasn't littered with robot cadavers, only to spot the same girl that had helped him earlier. She had half a dozen of the enemies suspended in the air, and she made a very deliberate motion to send them crashing and exploding back to earth. A gravity Quirk, his mind supplied extremely unhelpfully.

He was utterly overwhelmed by the increasing sounds of battle around him, his arms itching and his fingers shaking and- and he just needed a minute, one minute, he just needed to think without something loud and terrifying happening. His prayers were answered when the tide of robots stemmed and sputtered out, students glancing around warily. He was probably the first to spot it, he realized dimly. After all, he was the only one shaking in bone rattling terror at the sight of the (he wasn't very good with judging height but the buildings around him averaged at about twelve stories and considering that the robot was at least a story and half taller) one hundred and thirty seven foot tall metal abomination that had just emerged from the ground and knocked over several buildings. The resulting dust storm was enough to catch the other applicants' attention, a cacophony of conversation bubbling for a few moments before it popped, and they scattered.

Izuku should have done the same, should have turned tail and looked for greener pastures because it was worth zero points but he was frozen in place and he was going to fail if he didn't get even a single one, fail he would fail a useless worthless failure just like Kacchan said he was always right, always always always-

"H-help!" Izuku emerged with a gasp from his spiraling panic, his chest thumping with uneven breaths at the sound of a call for assistance. His gaze tore through the street, stopping on the same gravity girl trapped underneath a massive piece of rubble. His heart skipped at least a hundred beats because he was sure it had stopped, why couldn't she lift it was she injured the zero point was coming and he had to, had to, had to!

Izuku sprinted down the street with as much speed as his gangly legs could take him, swift and surefooted in a way he could never manage when he actually paid attention. He moved on autopilot, his conscious mind steeling itself for the battering it was about to take. He skidded across the concrete and stopped in front of the girl, staring down at her with wide, glassy eyes. She stared up as well, confused and hopeful and--"Close your eyes, and don't open them until I say to, no matter what you hear." His voice held more gravitas than it ever had before, frayed wires wrapping together into something sturdier, something that played at true solidity, but it was enough.

The girl squeezed her eyes shut, and Izuku allowed fear to consume.
--
Ochako Uraraka screwed her eyes closed as tightly as she could, her heart hammering in her chest. She waited for-something, an explosion or a burst of light or some sort of indication that a Quirk had been activated--but all she heard was wailing, a chorus of howling upset that drilled into her brain, her breath coming in shallow pants and her heart thump-thump-thumping until she was sure it would pop. The voices bloated the air around her, the flat colors swimming behind her eyelids turning into starbursts of ghoulish silhouettes, it felt like she was dying the terror so thick and tarry in her throat, whimpers unheard over the cacophony that plucked at her limbs with razor wires, but she couldn't move, couldn't stand, couldn't breathe.

And she had to keep her eyes closed, because if she didn't the nightmare would get her, too.

Chapter 5

Chapter Text

Every camera set up in Battle Center B short circuited at the same time. The images fuzzed and glitched and went dark, blackening the faculty's view of the events taking place. There was a brief fumble to restore connection, the screens fuzzing back into view.

Where point zero had once stood, near invincible and nigh indomitable, was a mere shell of metal enshrouded in a cloud of dust. The towering one hundred and thirty seven feet of titanium alloy had been eaten away, reduced to rust and hunks of brittle metal that barely cleared twenty feet. The entire thing looked as though the ravages of time had intensified a thousandfold, reducing it to nothing but ruin in seconds. The faces of the buildings on either side of it had met a similar fate, piles of sand and concrete dust the only sign that the buildings had ever been whole.

All Might stared at the stabilizing video feed in dead silence, the rest of the U.A. staff practically invisible around him. He frantically consulted the list of applicants in Battle Center B, but none of them had a Quirk capable of such wanton destruction in such a short amount of time--his eyes caught on a name that burned recognition into his retinas, his fingers tightening on the edges of the paper.

'Midoriya, Izuku. Examinee Number: 2234. Registered Quirk: Quirkless'. That was--but that was impossible, he'd seen the results of the boy's Quirk firsthand! He'd had to fabricate a story about the slime villain getting away, so that the teary eyed boy wouldn't inadvertently ruin his own life! "W..what the heck is this, some kinda misprint?!" His voice was a low hiss, not loud enough to draw attention but with enough volume to vent a little frustration. Whatever weirdness was going on, All Might really hoped it didn't turn out to be unnecessarily convoluted.
--
"Whoa, did you see that?!"

"What the heck happened? Whose Quirk was that?"

"No idea, but it must be crazy strong."

Tenya Iida allowed the inquiries and exclamations of his fellow examinees to swirl around him like a tide pool, one shaking hand moving to carefully adjust his already impeccably balanced glasses. From what he could hear, no one else had even seen the Quirk responsible for destroying the zero point enemy, himself included. But Iida--Iida had seen the boy responsible. The one with the poorly coordinated track suit, he had been the only one moving towards the hulking machine. "But why would he..?"

A flash of brown hair caught his eye, and he was struck with recognition upon catching sight of the girl from earlier, the one that Colorful Tracksuit had been going to bother! She hadn't been running with everyone else, had she been waylaid? Was that--had that boy run back to save her?! She looked physically unharmed, but her face was ashen and she looked as if she might be sick at any moment. And the boy--Iida winced, and raised his gaze a few degrees. Well, the boy certainly had no qualms about being sick.

He just didn't understand. A boy with such a powerful Quirk.. how had no one even caught a glimpse?
--
Izuku Midoriya could feel the static on his tongue. Every sensation was wrong, flowing in a gelatinous lump like crystallizing syrup. He was vaguely aware of the blood tinged vomit dripping down his chin, his lip busted open and one of his teeth cracked from a third impact with the ground. Objectively, he knew of these things, but they were distant, like watching grainy footage of old wars in history class. It was real, but it couldn't touch him. The flow of time and his physicality existed on a different plane to his swimming consciousness.

The only link was his voice, hoarse and cluttered with adhesive gunk and desperately repeating the same syllables. "Open your eyes open your eyes open your eyes open your--" The mantra felt important, beyond serving as his grounding. He was.. it was a favor, maybe. He was doing someone a favor, they had listened and now he was-he had to let them know, because he had said he would. It was only fair.

"--alright?" Something, a snippet of another voice, its gentle strings wound tight and pulled him congruent with the accepted reality. There was an alignment, Izuku's senses slotting and clicking into place until he could see the swirl of fluids on the dusty concrete, and he could feel his bleeding palms and the ache in his tooth and his lower lip oozing blood. His hearing was the last to return, quietly slinking in once the nauseating scent of bile had already turned his stomach.

"--should fix you right up, honey." He vaguely felt a firm pressure press against the top of his head, and there was a part of him that wanted him to make sure he hadn't lost any clips from his hair. He glanced up in confusion, everything still moving a few frames behind, and the world dimmed as if the sun had gone out when he caught sight of an older woman in a nurse's uniform. "R'covry Grl," he slurred, the stars in his eyes lopsided. The ingrained knowledge of her Quirk allowed him a moment to prepare himself when his limbs weakened, the crack in his tooth sealing up along with every other cut and abrasion on his body.

Once the buzz of pain was removed his awareness snapped into place, the world becoming whole once more. "T-that girl--is she alright?" Izuku questioned breathlessly, swaying up onto his own two feet and glancing around frantically. The sight of her, leaning against a chunk of machinery with not a single scratch on her-relief blossomed clear and warm in his chest.

Recovery Girl's reassurances went unheard as he staggered over towards her, one arm trembling as he raised it in greeting. "H-hey, uhm, are you feeling--" Her gaze, wide and glazed, snapped towards him the moment he started speaking. She was pale and shaking, flinching reflexively when he moved forward. Izuku could--he could see it, in her eyes. The same thing he saw in the mirror, whenever he forgot not to look.

He could see her fear, and it shattered his insides into dust. Every molecule of positivity erupted like firecrackers, a crawling tingle that lived far beneath his skin. Every lump of tissue in his chest had vacated, and left him absolutely hollow. All he had left was his own stuttering breaths, aching and raw and never pulling in the oxygen he needed to halt the chaotic spinning of his head. Tears spilled down his face in revolting gushes, facial muscles twitching and trembling with effort, he had to smile, he had to or it was all over, and he could feel the wires snapping and one side of his mouth could just barely move but it was still there, still barely in one piece and he would-he'd move forward, and he'd fall, and he'd rise to his feet spitting blood until he couldn't see through the tears anymore.

"I-I'm s-s-sorry--" he choked out in a whimper, turning on a heel to sprint and trip and stumble and he had to leave he just needed a minute just a minute just needed to think-

Izuku's shoes slapped the pavement as he bolted from the testing area, his back turned but the haunted gaze he'd created burning behind his tear stained eyeballs.
--
The following seven days existed solely as a block of rotten time, dark and odorous and sickening. Izuku lived through them in a strange catatonia, interspersing long periods of static with bursts of manic depression. When his head would clear he would pace back and forth, digging a rut into his carpet as self hatred stained the walls. There were brief periods where he would sob under his covers, absolutely certain that he had failed the exam, he hadn't gotten any points he would never succeed, never be more, never escape the torture of his cursed Quirk.

And other times he would grit his teeth and scratch lines down his arms, angry at himself and the world, furious that all his hard work was worthless because he just wasn't lucky enough, just wasn't born right. He'd stand in the bathroom with his shirt off, tracing angry scars with his nails and half wishing to carve them open and release the evil trapped under them.

He'd torn down one of his All Might posters in a fit of rage, and spent an hour unable to stop crying when its scraps were left on his floor. He hadn't had enough tape to put the whole thing back together, and he'd already spent his allowance on more colorful accessories, hoping they would be enough to keep him in one piece. He shoved the remains of the poster away in one of his desk drawers and pretended it didn't matter.

The only time he ever felt even close to normal was when he had to pretend for his mother. It ripped at his heart to feed into her denial, to act the shy, loving son who didn't hate himself. It wasn't that he didn't love his mother, but the disconnect was so strong that sometimes he wasn't sure if all of his behaviors around her were artificial or not. It was almost like flipping a switch, the manner in which he engaged her in light conversation and shared old jokes and asked after her hobbies, when only minutes before he had been hardly able to think through the fuzz in his head. Whatever the case was, as long as she didn't push past his delicate web of lies, things would be okay.

The seventh day was spent huddled in the living room, notebooks sprawled on his lap and a pen digging into his fingers from his white knuckled grip. He didn't-his chances of getting into U.A. were slim-to-none, but he had to prepare for the worst (best?) case scenario. If by some fluke of universal constants he made it in, then he had to be ready. He had feverishly researched information about the school's staff online, but the information present had been frustratingly vague. He knew of heroes like Present Mic, Ectoplasm, and Cementoss, but their particular Quirks and his vague sketches of their behavioral patterns didn't sound too threatening. He had to worry about anyone that would see through him, that wouldn't be simpler to trick, who wouldn't accept whatever lies he came up with on the spot.

Unfortunately, the majority of popular Pro Heroes were intelligent and likely adept at seeing through lies from so many brushes with villainy, so he simply had to rely on his own lack of social graces and anxiety to give him some sort of safety net. All he had to do was make sure--

"Izuku, sweetie! There's mail for you!" His mother's voice cut through his haze of frantic thoughts, and he spent half a moment staring into the air with a blank expression before he stumbled off the couch and lurched towards the door. "Izuku, it's your test results!" His eyes went wide enough to nearly erupt from his head, and he narrowly avoided slamming into the opposite wall when he skidded into the entrance way of the apartment.

His mother stood with the letter in hand, face already turned to smile encouragingly at him with pinpricks of tears in the corners of her eyes. He accepted the letter with trembling hands, the wax seal burning a hole in his retinas. "T-thanks so much! Uhm, I'm just gonna--go look at this in my room okay thank you mom!" He hugged her around the neck with one arm before tearing back to his room, scooping up his notebooks and slamming the All Might decorated door behind him.

Izuku's breathing was harsh and deafening in his ears, the frantic rhythm a welcome reprieve from hissing white noise. He brushed a fingertip across the seal on the letter, dreading the future within it. It would change everything, it would either put his dreams in danger or completely destroy them. He couldn't imagine either one being worse than the other. But-he had to.

Izuku ripped open the letter with trembling fingers, a little round device clattering onto the surface of his desk. He flinched when it burst into light and color, illuminating the dark of his bedroom with All Might's staggering visage. "KA-BLAM, I AM HERE, IN HOLOGRAPHIC VIDEO FORM! ISN'T THAT NEAT?" It was a pre-recorded video, depicting All Might in front of some gaudy background. The hero glanced off-screen, perhaps receiving instructions from someone else. "AHEM, WELL. Young Izuku Midoriya, you passed the U.A.'s written exam with flying colors! Congratulations! Unfortunately, you earned zero combat points in the practical exam. I..it'd be poor taste to congratulate him for that, right?" All Might questioned off screen, receiving an unheard response. "Well edit it in post, then! Anyway... fear not, young Midoriya! There's something I think you'd like to see!"

Another video burst to life in the corner, depicting the same girl he had saved, the same one he had-either way, she appeared rosy cheeked and lively again, approaching Present Mic with a sheepish look on her face. Izuku could barely breathe because she was okay, she wasn't terrified or withdrawn and he could barely even fathom it, couldn't understand what it was like to be afraid and have it end, for the terror not to linger at the fringes forever and ever. "Uhm, excuse me, Mr. Present Mic? Sorry to interrupt, but... do you remember the boy with messy hair and all the," she gestured at the sides of her head, "all the clips? Had lots of freckles and an ugly track suit? I wanted to ask if it'd be alright if... I maybe gave him some of my points from the exam? I could see how hard he was trying, and he even gave up on his chance to earn points to save me! And.." Her face fell from its previous exuberance, into something quiet and almost ashamed. "I think I might have accidentally upset him, after he saved me, and I really didn't mean to! And-I think he really deserves to pass!"

The video paused, nothing more than a smear of color due to the sheen of tears that blurred Izuku's vision. He twisted one hand in the fabric of his shirt, the tactile sensation just barely keeping him in one piece. He'd never- no one had ever spoken up like that for him before, had ever cared enough to ask after him, to want to help him. He swallowed down a sob when All Might began speaking again.

"Seems you made quite the impression, does it not? You, young Midoriya, have made your selflessness known in a big way!" All Might turned to face the camera directly, his chiseled face pulled into a shining grin. "For you see, the practical exam was not graded on combat prowess alone! A second factor was voted on by a panel of judges, once your actions were reviewed and corroborated by your fellow examinees! And for that reason, I am proud to say you passed with SIXTY RESCUE POINTS!" All Might flashed a thumbs up, every inch of him glowing with that heroic light, the light Izuku had sought so desperately, the light that was now within his reach--

"You passed the exam, Izuku Midoriya. Your heroic bravery and selflessness will be good a fit with us, here at U.A.!"

Chapter 6

Chapter Text

"How did you do it?" Izuku grunted as his back met rough brickwork, his clothes too flimsy to cushion the scrapes he was sure he'd find later. "HOW THE FUCK DID YOU DO IT?!" He flinched, ears ringing, as an explosion scorched the brick beside his head. His heart was thundering into already aching ribs, the skin above surely bruised in several places. "What kinda fuckin' sneaky cheater bullshit did you PLAN?" Kacchan's voice rose and fell chaotically between an enraged hiss and a furious shout, his soot stained fist twisted in the fabric of Izuku's collar. "TELL ME! TELL ME HOW A FUCKING QUIRKLESS LOSER MADE IT IN!"

"Kacchan," Izuku coughed around the stench of ignited nitroglycerin, his hands flat against the wall behind him because he knew if he dared to touch Kacchan he might lose a few fingers. Tears cut through the thin layer of dust on his cheeks, and he attempted to make eye contact through the impairment. His lips were pulled into a wretched facsimile of a smile, inked with pain and upset but still barely marked in place. "J-just let me explain-"

Kacchan's free hand snapped forward, nails digging into Izuku's chin and cutting crescent moons into the skin. Furious red pits stared into his glassy eyes, a moment of silence passing before he was twisted around and shoved forward, stumbling to his hands and knees on the concrete. "Fucking talk, then. And keep it short. If you start with your fucking mumbling, I'm gonna rip your goddamn tongue out."

Midoriya spent a moment watching tears darken the pavement in tiny splotches, before he dared to rise onto his own two feet. He winced at the ache in his ribs, but managed to stand straight and shuffle around to meet Bakugou's gaze again. "D-during the practical exam, I-helped a girl, w-who had gotten stuck under rubble. T-they gave me rescue points, and it was enough to help me pass." It was as close to the truth as possible, trimmed and edited and short enough that hopefully Kacchan wouldn't explode with frustration.

Wishful thinking as always, Midoriya mused, when familiar fingers lifted him by his collar. "You smug little worthless fucking SHITTY DEKU! WHAT DO YOU THINK'S GONNA HAPPEN WHEN THEY FIND OUT YOU DON'T HAVE A QUIRK, YOU SHITHEAD FUCKING NERD?! You're gonna be out on your scrawny little ass in ten seconds flat. But you knew that, didn't you? YOU KNEW, AND YOU STILL FUCKING SABOTAGED ME! I WAS THE ONLY ONE, IT WAS SUPPOSED TO BE ME AND NO FUCKING BODY ELSE! BUT YOU JUST HAD TO RUIN THAT, DIDN'T YOU DEKU? YOU WORTHLESS FUCKING INGRATE!" Kacchan had pressed in close enough that Izuku was more worried about being bitten than exploded, and he could smell traces of Kacchan's lunch on his breath.

"I-If I do get expelled.. then it'll just s-show all the other students first hand how much better you are, right?" Izuku left his gaze pointed vaguely in Bakugou's direction, sifting through thoughts to put together something he had hardly ever dreamed of; an argument that would appease his (former former not anymore and you know it) childhood friend. "Y-you can tell them about how much of a s-shitty Deku I am, and it-it'll just make sense if I get kicked out, r-right?" His heart twisted in his chest, chunks of it peeling off to flutter around and crowd his rib cage. "Y-you don't even have to do anything to prove you're b-better than me. It'll just.. fall into place, and e-everyone will know."

Kacchan stared at him for several long, nerve wracking moments, his usual fury twisted into something that Izuku couldn't read. Nerves popped like blisters in his chest, because if he couldn't read Kacchan then he didn't know what he was thinking, didn't know if he had messed up and ruined his chance- "Tch. I know exactly what you're tryin' to pull, Deku." Izuku's heart stopped, a cold worthless lump in his chest. "But you do make a point. Your own fucking inadequacy is more embarrassing than anything I could ever do to you." Izuku choked on a gasp when the hand around his collar shoved him backwards, shoes scraping against concrete as he attempted to stay upright.

Surprisingly enough, Kacchan left without another word, his posture no more tense and agitated than usual. Had... had Izuku actually convinced him? Surely not, surely it was just a cruel lie, surely Kacchan would turn around any second and make him hurt, make him cry for ever being stupid enough to think he could get away-

But Izuku was left alone to ache and lick his wounds, to make an attempt at calming the spinning in his head, to mash together the pulp of his heart and hope it began to beat again.
--
"-still have a combined total of four hundred and twenty seven free pages left between journals thirteen point five to eighteen, which probably won't last much longer depending on the volume of my classmates and the complexities of their Quirks and personalities-" Izuku muttered at half awareness as he fumbled to knot his uniform tie, the end result looking mangled and incorrect but at least it would stay put. He washed his hands in the sink for the third time, carefully avoiding the colorful bandages that covered the scrapes on his hands. He'd already done his hair, washed and conditioned the night before and carefully brushed that morning, twelve clips on either side of his head lined up in inverse rainbows of warm colors on one side and cool colors on the other. His bulky red shoes had been defaced with dozens of stickers, because he was sure he couldn't get away with having them on his face.

At least his uniform was much more vibrant and colorful than what he wore to middle school, the sleeves of his undershirt loose and breathable, and the jacket light enough to not feel constricting. It was a healthy change, he decided, carefully patting his face to bring some blood to his cheeks. It helped to make him look more approachable, and less.. depressing.

"Izuku, sweetie, you're going to be late if you don't hurry!" Izuku jolted out of his quiet musings, nearly slipping on tile in his rush to exit the bathroom and scoop up his backpack. He flashed what felt like a loving smile to his mother, and caught her eyes shimmer before he reached for the door- "Izuku.. wait, before you leave. I just wanted to say that I'm proud of you, honey."

The sincerity, the adoration, the pride and affection and reassurance on her face-Izuku wiped at his eyes with a sleeve, and returned his mother's beatific smile with something warm and bright. "Thank you." He flung open the apartment door, backpack straps digging into his shoulders, and threw himself into the morning sunlight.
--
U.A.'s campus, in Izuku's eyes, was a perfect reflection of the heroes' light that he so desperately sought. It was a shining monolith of reflective glass, its halls open and light and breathable in a way his middle school never was. For the moment he didn't feel stifled, didn't feel the dreadful certainty of misery waiting for him behind closed doors.

Perhaps it was because he was preoccupied by panicking about his potential lateness, the empty halls a telling sign that everyone else in his class was probably already present and waiting. He had to make a good first impression, had to do whatever he could to entrench himself, had to last as long as possible before everything crashed down around him. There was-a chance, he thought, that things could work out. One completed semester would be above and beyond his expectations, and it might be just enough to help him stand on two feet. He'd have a taste of formal training and veteran expertise to help shape him, a base from which to grow.

And that was the only thought that gave him enough drive to slide open the massive wooden door of class 1-A, his smile twitching but whole-

"Put your feet on the ground this instant! How disrespectful can you be, treating the property of this prestigious school like trash on your first day?!" A voice that rang with authority and a peculiarly bureaucratic sort of outrage slammed into Izuku the moment he opened the door, and he paled at the sight of the bespectacled boy from the exam attempting to lecture a smug looking Kacchan.

"Hey, I'm only givin' it what it deserves; must be a trash school after all, if they let screaming shitballs like you apply." Kacchan pointedly scuffed the heel of his shoe across the top of the desk, his grin toothy and threatening.

The boy in front of him puffed up like a bird, only to exhale pointedly. "...I believe we've gotten off on the wrong foot. My name is Tenya Iida. It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance." He stiffly extended a hand, only to have Bakugou bark out a laugh.

"Can't even stick to your guns? Katsuki Bakugou-it'll be a pleasure to wipe the floor with your shitty face." Bakugou leaned his chair back on two legs, gaze wandering elsewhere, as if Iida wasn't even worth paying attention to anymore.

Iida recoiled in shock, an exaggerated motion that seemed entirely genuine, if the clear bewilderment on his face was any indication. "A-A direct threat?! We're supposed to be classmates, you can't just-!"

"Blow it out your ass," Bakugou muttered, his wandering gaze flickering over to the door only to lock eyes with a quivering Izuku. Furious red eyes narrowed into slits, but he had no chance to speak up before Iida followed the turn of his head.

"Ah, it's you!" Tenya's exclamation was enough to have every colorful head in the room turn in Izuku's direction, his social invisibility ripped to shreds in an instant. He blanched around his increasingly anxious smile, raising a hand in greeting. "Greetings, my name is Tenya-"

"I-I um, I heard," Izuku interrupted, waving his hands in a placating manner to halt Iida's incredibly intimidating march in his direction, as well as whatever lengthy introduction may or may not have followed it. "I-I'm Izuku Midoriya. It's... r-really nice to meet you!" He stared cautiously at the silvery sheen of Iida's glasses, rendering his gaze unreadable, before the other boy nodded respectfully towards him.

"A pleasure to meet you as well, Midoriya. I'm pleased to have another chance to speak with you, after the exam. I apologize for my behavior towards you-your selfless actions that day proved beyond a shadow of a doubt that I had deeply misjudged you." Iida bowed, a perfect ninety degree angle that both flustered Izuku and sent a spike of concern through him because was that really okay for his spine to bend like that?

"Heeey, now isn't that a familiar sight!" A bright, bubbly voice exclaimed from directly behind him, Midoriya's limbs locking up in reflexive fright at having been sneaked up on. He twitched around to spy the same round, rosy face of the girl he'd-he'd- The mere sight of her was so unbalancing, it made him want to sob in relief and shy away in the same moment, stricken with the possibility of doing something worse in the future- "You're the boy from the exam that helped me! Listen, I really wanted to say how sorry I am for upsetting you, especially after you went out of your way to help!" Her eyes were wide and soulful, a deep brown that shone concern and remorse from their depths.

His heart scraps twisted together into a knot, and he barely managed to force words past his numb lips. "N-no it's okay I totally understand you don't have to feel bad about it." When she chirped a contrite 'Are you sure?' he swiftly nodded, chest constricting and mind racing because he had no ideawhat to say.

"Phew, I'm really glad to have cleared that up." The relief on her face was palpable, and he was struck by her expressiveness the moment before she brightened again. "Man, today is already so exciting and we haven't even done anything yet! I just can't wait to meet everyone, and oh my gosh who do you think our teacher is I bet they'll be really cool-"

"If you're only here for gossip hour, then you can head home right now." A voice thick with exhaustion and flattened by apathy stopped the girl in her tracks, her smile locked in place as a dark, scraggly form loped up behind her. An older man with scratchy facial hair and limp, dark locks peered over her head, listless eyes scanning the silent room. "At least you all know when to shut your mouths. I'm Shouta Aizawa, your homeroom teacher."

His proclamation was met with a murmur of shock, students rushing back into their seats as he slunk into the room. The heavy scarf around his neck caught Izuku's eyes, and the familiarity had his breath catching in his throat. "Eraserhead," he squeaked, earning only a raised eyebrow and a dry eyed stare. He fumbled into his seat (directly behind Kacchan, of course, why wouldn't it be) and avoided further eye contact with the pro hero.

"Don't even bother sitting down. We've got important things to get to." Aizawa tossed a duffel bag onto the floor, its unzipped contents spilling out in the form of colorful gym uniforms. "Get dressed. We're going outside."
--
Izuku had barely caught his breath from the nerve wracking ordeal of having to change clothes near a bunch of other people who had at least kept to themselves while he nearly strangled himself in an effort to get dressed, when Mr. Aizawa dropped a bombshell that made him feel like his chest would cave in from fear.

"Quirk assessment? But Mr. Aizawa, we're gonna miss orientation!" The bubbly girl spoke up from the front of the pack, students left in an unorganized group outdoors, bleachers to their backs and open fields in front of them.

"Orientation is a waste of time. Gaudy showboating is worth less than nothing, so instead we're going to do something useful." The sunlight that shone onto Aizawa seemed almost hesitant to touch him, leaving him a black mark on the world. "Here at U.A., we don't have a 'standardized curriculum'. That affords me the freedom to direct my class as I see fit. Your previous schooling was entirely academic in nature. As a result, you've had little time to truly understand your Quirks." Aizawa craned his neck, eyes locking on a head of ashy blond hair. "You. Bakugou. You came first in the exam, excelling in the combat portion. I want you to throw this," he fished a softball out of his pocket, a strip of electronics stitched into it, "with your Quirk. Don't hold back."

"..Sure." Katsuki stalked over to snatch up the ball, feet kicking up dust as he centered himself in the marked circle. He smirked at the feeling of eyes on his back, more than willing to show everyone exactly how inferior they were. He reeled back and hurled the ball with an eruption of nitroglycerin, a shout exploding from his throat at the moment it tore through the air, a trail of fire marking it as it disappeared into the distance. he tilted his head to catch a glimpse of awed faces, the corner of his lips curling into a vicious grin when he saw the blank terror on idiot Deku's face.

"That's just an example of the tests you'll be participating in today," Aizawa droned, holding up his phone with '705.2 m' across it. He spoke calmly over the hushed exclamations. "They'll help assess your upper limits, so I can get an accurate idea of what you are and are not capable of." Something dark flitted over his face, teeth exposed and eyes wider than half lidded. "As an added incentive, when the eight planned events are over I'm going to tally up the scores, and whomever comes in last will be face with immediate expulsion."

A much louder outcry erupted from the group, exclamations of disbelief and concern ringing out. Izuku couldn't have made out a single word if he tried, eyes wide and unseeing when the static closed in. He was going to fail, he knew it, there was no way, he wouldn't even last one day before everything he'd worked towards would be dashed into rubble, it was over it was over it was over it was over-

"Let's get to it and stop wasting time, shall we?" Aizawa flashed another of his not-quite-smiles, eyes dark underneath stringy strands of hair.

"B-but you can't do that! It's only the first day, it isn't fair that someone could be expelled already!" The bubbly girl spoke out of turn once more, her voice high and clear and loaded with something like disbelief.

"I can't?" Aizawa questioned, his tone making it extremely clear what he thought of her choice of words. "I'll be sure to remember that, the next time an impaired driver causes a fatal pileup on a highway, or a building collapses on hundreds of office workers, or a villain decides to turn half a town into rubble. I'm sure once I remind them that they can't do that, everything will work out." His tone was sharp and biting on the surface, a smooth energy lifting it from his previous dead words. He paused when the girl shrank back, looking adequately remorseful. "As heroes, it will be your duty to combat the injustices of the world with action, not words. You must make your presence known, your deeds a deterrent to any who would dare unrest the peace, and when disaster strikes you must not waste breath. Now it's time for you all to prove to me that you're here for that purpose, understand?"

He made a beckoning gesture, dark eyes alive with something that was almost passion. "And be sure to prove it with your actions, not your words."
--
Izuku was trapped in a nightmare, he had to be, there was no other explanation, right? Watching in a numb haze as his classmates blew through the fifty meter dash, their Quirks dazzling and awe inspiring and so-useful, so heroic in a way he would never, ever achieve. The sound of static was so strong, buzzing along with the locusts in his chest, it was so loud that Mr. Aizawa had had to call his name three times before he took his place at the starting line.

He could feel the man's ire, twisting around in the air like the scarf around his neck, just waiting to wring him dry and toss him in the trash where he belonged- The starting sound cracked through his bones, and his first step twisted and brought him falling into the dirt. The sound of Kacchan's explosions masked his sob as he struggled forward, regaining his footing in moments but what little dignity he had previously possessed was left to rot in the dust.

"Ten point four three seconds!" The speedometer chimed, his insides sinking and sinking and sinking. He could feel eyes burning into him, could practically taste the murmurs of uncertainty questioning why he was even there. If only he had an answer, if only he could force words through the dark squall in his rib cage, hissing and buzzing and so impossibly loud.

The second test seemed on the fast track to a similar failure, his fingers trembling around the handle of the grip testing device. He couldn't-he was so afraid, so afraid that it wouldn't be enough because it was so obvious that he was weak, that he was desperate and terrified and mired in a despair that hung from him in a foggy cloud, tainting the air with his revolting presence. He stared numbly at the device, its metal cold and smooth against his fingers and the moment he squeezed with what little strength he had there wouldn't be any other chance, he'd fail spectacularly and he'd be expelled and his mother's face would fall but she would hide her shame but he would feel it, would know it was there every day of his wasted, worthless life and he couldn't, couldn't, couldn't-

The fear squeezed within Izuku's chest, his fingers clenching and producing a squealing shriek of tortured metal. The grip tester exploded in his hand, reduced to shards of metal that cut hair thin lines across his palm as every negative emotion compounding within him erupted forth. Dark fumes curled around his trembling hand, fingers twitching and contracting unsteadily. He could feel the sudden silence even if he couldn't hear it, eyes wide and hand dripping with welling blood as he forced his lips to move, words oozing through his broken smile.

"It's okay it's okay it's okay it's okay it's okay-"

Chapter 7

Chapter Text

Shouta Aizawa silently appraised the gaggle of young hopefuls he'd been stuck with, making mental notes of every student, from the versatility of their Quirks to the stability of their emotional states. He had a few yellow flags, including Katsuki Bakugou (driven but arrogant, too much fire in his veins, it'd burn him up if he let it rage) and Izuku Midoriya (alarming lack of confidence, shaky and unsure with no sign of his Quirk). Their records showed that they had both come from the same school, but where Bakugou's Quirk had been plainly listed on his file, Midoriya's was labeled 'Quirkless'.

Impossible, he knew. In the history of U.A. there hadn't ever been a single Quirkless student to walk its halls, though there were no explicit rules stating that someone without a Quirk couldn't attend. It was unspoken, really; everyone knew that a hero couldn't exist without a Quirk, no matter their aspirations and hard work. Determination alone wasn't enough.

And it had to be determination that he saw in the set of Midoriya's shoulders, because he couldn't imagine what else it was that kept the boy from collapsing on the spot. His performance in the first challenge had been abysmal, the slowest by a far margin. His form would have been decent, if not for his clumsiness. But even when he had regained his footing, he was utterly average. Something was odd, and Aizawa would be sure to find out what it was.

Luckily he didn't have to wait long. The grip strength test should have been over quickly, if not for the insufferable nature of teenagers that led to them chatting among one another. He kept his gaze constantly moving, making notes of those that excelled and those that fell short. It wasn't strictly necessary, considering the automatic scoring system, but reading the lines on their faces told him more than mere points ever could.

He'd seen the moment Midoriya's face crumpled, eyes wet as he stared in hysterical fear at his strength tester. Aizawa had been prepared to write him off then and there, absolutely sure that the boy would prove to be a liability at best and an embarrassment to the school at worst.

Of course, the device exploding in his hand had put a damper on that. It was lucky he had been watching so intently, or he would have missed the subtle activation of the boy's Quirk. His entire silhouette had darkened for the span of a blink, something inky and malicious zapping through the air around him. It was barely visible, a phenomenon easily missed for one without Aizawa's keen perception, but the shiver that crawled up his spine was impossible to ignore.

He waited a beat, the other students hushing into absolute silence in the wake of the unexpected event, before Midoriya's mutterings broke the quiet. Some of the braver and more personable students (Iida, Kirishima, Uraraka) approached him in concern, but the boy was absolutely deaf to their words.

"Alright, enough gawking. If you haven't completed the test yet, then stop wasting time. If you have, wait outside." Aizawa stalked over in a flutter of scarves, glaring flatly at any students that dared to linger. Uraraka was the last to file outside, worry in her gaze before the door shut behind her.

"Midoriya. Midoriya. Izuku Midoriya." Something... another voice. One not his own. Izuku swung his head upwards in an uncoordinated movement, the force swaying him where he stood. The two halves of his gaze fused together in a blur of color, until he could see dark, lidded eyes staring down at him. Eraserhead, the hero. Wasn't he... he didn't like the spotlight, nobody really knew anything substantial about him. Izuku slowly raised a hand to reach out to him, something red glistening in his palm. The motion was slow and unsure, his muscles long done moving before his hand drifted to a halt.

"Izuku Midoriya, snap out of it. Are you injured anywhere other than your hand?" The world flickered and stuttered like a television set with poor frequency, before the picture snapped back into focus. His-the teacher, Mr. Aizawa, he'd used his QUIRK and his hand was so bloody and his instinct to clench it coaxed a pained whimper from his throat, but Mr. Aizawa had addressed him and he had to-had to say something, couldn't ignore him.

"I-I'm s-s-sorry sir, I-only my hand, only that, was-where is-is everyone okay did anyone else get h-hurt?" The words sloshed out of his mouth before he could arrange them into a coherent order, hurried and frantic.

"Yours is the only injury, Midoriya. Shake the lead out; I'm taking you to the nurse's office. You'll wait there until class is over, and then we're going to have a conversation about your Quirk. Am I understood?" Izuku peeked past the layers of apathy and disinterest that coated Mr. Aizawa's tone, and found something urgent lurking between them. It took half a second for the meaning behind those words to fully register, and it instantly sent him back into a downward spiral.

Izuku wrapped his uninjured hand around his other wrist, pulling it shakily to his chest and staring teary eyed into an unforgiving gaze. "S-sir I c-can't-"

"Apparently," Mr. Aizawa cut in with a barbed tone, "the only thing you can't do is follow simple instructions. You can either come with me to the nurse's office, or I can send you home. I'm sure you're smart enough to make the right decision." Mr. Aizawa turned on a heel and began stalking toward the exit, his long strides giving Izuku barely any time to spring into motion and stumble after him.

The harsh burn of sunlight made him flinch the moment he stepped outside, and the weight of his classmates' (not for long expulsion was the least of the punishment he deserved) stares, half a dozen voices immediately raising in question- "No talking. Midoriya and I are taking a trip to the nurse. You will all stay here and behave until I get back. We'll resume the assessment afterwards."

"But sir-!" Izuku flinched from the force of Mr. Aizawa's glare, even when it wasn't directed at him. The bubbly girl immediately fell silent, her soulful gaze wandering in his direction as Mr. Aizawa led him across the field.

Midoriya stared blankly at the ground disappearing beneath his shoes, counting down the seconds in his head before his dreams were crushed. There was no way someone like Eraserhead would let him hang around just to screw things up. His heart thudded until the sound of the other students' voices faded away, leaving him and Mr. Aizawa in a tense silence.

The rest of the walk to the nurse's office passed in a numb blur, packed earth transitioning into concrete, and then to linoleum tile in what felt like a single blink. The throbbing in his hand was muted, the cuts shallow enough to be ignored with some effort. It wasn't until a hand pressed firmly into his chest that he realized he had nearly walked into Mr. Aizawa's back, the educator stood in front of the clearly labeled nurse's office.

"Before you go in, I'd like to make a few things clear to you. At this present moment I have no plans to expel you, so you can stop looking so morose. You're also not in trouble, at least in the sense that you won't be receiving more than a reprimand. We'll see if that changes as the situation develops." Mr. Aizawa finally turned to meet his gaze, eyes red with irritation and lidded with exhaustion. "Call your parents when you've recovered, tell them you're helping with an after school activity or something. I really don't care."

Izuku watched his teacher's retreating back for several dazed moments, before he recovered enough clarity to actually enter the nurse's office. He mumbled something to Recovery Girl about a 'training accident', and was silent as she tutted and fussed over him. The drain from her Quirk left him drooping in his seat, barely cognizant of her gloved fingers gently pressing against his knitted palm. Someone told her in his voice that it was still a little tender, when she asked how it felt. Somehow he informed her that Mr. Aizawa had instructed him to wait there, and she led his shambling body over to a patient bed.

The mattress was a little thin and springy, but it was comfortable enough that he could allow his consciousness to finally unravel, floating in the unknown ether to recover. Maybe when Mr. Aizawa came back, he'd finally be in a single piece again.
--
Aizawa ran through the rest of the assessment test with a current of urgency, steadfastly deflecting all questions as to Midoriya's condition that wouldn't be satisfied by his stock 'He's fine, now focus'. He resumed his own internal cataloging of their Quirks and abilities, pushing the Midoriya situation to the back of his mind. He could already tell it would be a massive headache to deal with.

He stared impassively when the long distance run ended with flagged spirits, scarves flapping like shed skins when he lead nineteen of his students back out onto the field. Their obnoxiously willful behavior had been replaced by an uncertain silence, and while it helped his headache it certainly didn't improve their concentration.

He stopped in front of the electronic scoreboard, one hand wrapped loosely around his phone. "Now that the assessment is over, I'll be revealing your scores, first to last. I'm sure most of you have an idea of where you placed already, so I won't bother going through each of you individually." His thumb swiped over the touch screen, the board lighting up with their results.

Number twenty was, inevitably, Izuku Midoriya. Only instead of a numerical score, the box was marked with a blinking red 'N/A'. He read over their faces for a moment, relief and disappointment and arrogant assurance, before breaking the chatter that had spread between them. "Also I lied, nobody is getting expelled. It was just incentive to make sure none of you slacked off."

He could see Uraraka opening her mouth again to cry out above the exclamations of shock and bizarre relief/dismay, and pinned her with a glare before she could. "Before any of you whine about how unfair that is, take a moment to think about how a hero operates. Nobody walks into a disaster or a battle ground, assured of victory. And if they do, they're destined to crash and burn." There was a beat, before he turned to head in the other direction. "That's it for today. Don't forget to pick up a syllabus in the classroom before you head home-"

"HEY, WAIT A MINUTE! YOU CAN'T JUST WALK OFF WITHOUT EXPLAINING WHAT THE HELL HAPPENED WITH DEKU!" Katsuki Bakugou roared at his infuriatingly smug teacher's back, his eye twitching uncontrollably. He stomped through the dust, marking a clear middle ground between the eighteen other losers that'd weigh him down and the unkempt asshole. "What the fuck happened in the strength test? Is he really so much of a damn screw up that he fucking messed up his tester?!"

Katsuki stood his ground when Aizawa turned in a slow circle, pinning him with a flat glare. "If you had been paying attention, I'm sure you would have realized it was the fault of his Quirk. If you're worried about your friend I already said he was fine, it was only a few cuts. Now if you're done wasting my time-"

"THAT DOESN'T MAKE ANY FUCKING SENSE! DEKU DOESN'T HAVE A QUIRK!" His voice rang out over the field, its echo prompting murmurs of confusion from the rest of the slack jawed idiots. "He's NEVER had a Quirk, I've known him his entire shitty life and he's been Quirkless for TEN YEARS!" He could feel his sweaty palms sizzle and crackle, pent up frustration and a refusal to believe such obvious bullshit making his arms tremble with fury.

"Then you must not have paid very close attention." Bakugou gaped at Aizawa's uncaring rebuttal, frozen still for a moment where he could only stare dumbly as the educator walked away. "Get your syllabus, head home. If you want to know more about the situation, you're more than capable of waiting until tomorrow like everyone else."

Aizawa heaved a sigh as an enraged shout echoed behind him, turning the corner around a set of bleachers and waiting a single breath to listen for stomping footsteps. When none moved in his direction, he turned back to continue walking out of sight of his students. "You'd think being seven feet tall and weighing six hundred pounds would have deterred you from sneaking around," he droned aloud, the corner of his vision locked on ridiculous locks of blond hair, hardly concealed behind a tree. "Lucky for you, your obnoxious habit of sticking your nose where it doesn't belong has finally come in handy."

All Might circled around into full view, one hand brushing stray leaves off his ridiculous yellow suit. "That was a pretty nasty trick, scaring them with expulsion right off the bat. It's important to build trust with your students, so that they can rely on you in the future-"

"Could you cut the monologue for once? I need your help with something that doesn't involve punching villains or saving kittens from trees." Aizawa briefly tracked his gaze over the chiseled, shadowed features of the Number One Hero before he jerked his head towards the main campus. "We've got a situation with one of the kids."

"A situation? Now that I think about it, you were one short, weren't you?" Aizawa could see the gears clicking behind a bulky forehead and ridiculous hairstyle. "Izuku Midoriya was only present at the beginning, was he not?"

"Yeah. We had an incident with his Quirk in the grip test. Squeezed it so hard it exploded in his hands, left him with minor lacerations. I would have sent him by himself, but I could barely get him walking in a straight line." Aizawa very carefully tucked a none of concern underneath layers of matter-of-fact neutrality. "I'm sure you've seen his registration forms. His listing as 'Quirkless' is a gross error that needs to be rectified immediately, so you're going to come with me and we're going to discuss Midoriya's Quirk with him. You'd better hope you have enough time to spare."

Aizawa only made it half a stride before he heard All Might's signature embarrassed chuckle (signature among those that actually knew him, at least) and ground to a halt. "Actually, I.." the hero's booming voice was subdued, lingering in the air for a moment, "that won't be an issue. Young Midoriya and I have been.. previously acquainted, and there was a bit of an incident with my time limit."

Aizawa took a slow, even breath, holding the air in his lungs before slowly letting it trickle out. "Well. I'd love to hear all about it on the way to the nurse's office. Be sure not to leave out any details." The array of teeth he flashed over his shoulder could scarcely be considered a smile.

All Might swallowed a lump in his throat, his grin a little more rigid than usual.
--
Izuku stared listlessly up at the ceiling tiles that roofed him in, his thumb idly stroking the glassy surface of his phone. His consciousness had weaved itself back into his brain at some point, leaving him quiet and mournful and unfortunately aware of the passage of time. He'd texted his mother something about extracurricular activities, and it had apparently been enough to not arouse suspicion.

He'd attempted to scroll through his news feed as a distraction, but the sight of various articles and videos and forum posts about the heroes he idolized made his heart clench and shudder. He couldn't even write in his journals as a distraction, because his bag had been left in the classroom. So instead he stared straight up and counted the marks on the ceiling, because if he looked at the clock it would rip him in half.

A sudden vibration of approaching footsteps had him shooting upright in the patient bed, his eyes wide and heart picking up into a manic rhythm. The door slid open, and he could hear voices from the other room, Recovery Girl and Mr. Aizawa and-and-

"Young Midoriya!" The voice of All Might boomed through the room, as friendly and casual as it could be made. He parted the curtain separating the front of the office from the patient area, flanked on one side by a humorless Eraserhead. "I'm glad to see you healed up! Now.. I believe it's time we talked about your Quirk."

Chapter 8

Chapter Text

Izuku Midoriya fell apart from the inside out. His bones crumbled and crackled like aging cement, spilling forth dusted bone marrow. His organs shriveled and deflated, all functionality completely lost. His lungs popped like balloons, his stomach melted in its own acids, his throat closed up and twisted into a constricting knot and his heart, whatever was left of it-

A warm hand gripped his shoulder through his gym uniform, fingers squeezing into the muscles tightly enough to jolt him into awareness. It forced a blink out of him, eyes refocusing on Mr. Aizawa's flat expression. The touch was just barely enough, putting forth the bare minimum to keep Izuku in one piece. His fear lashed and coiled around his ribs, making them creak and strain, but miraculously he stayed upright. "I-I-I-I-" His tongue flopped uselessly in his mouth, unable to form the syllables he needed to properly express his guilt and remorse. Tears of frustration welled up, blurring the corners of his vision.

"Calm yourself, young Midoriya. I promise you are safe, because we are here." All Might's boom had been smoothed and layered, a spectrum of deep reassurance instead of rattling confidence. "As I'm sure Mr. Aizawa has informed you, you aren't in trouble. We just need to have an important conversation with you, alright?" Constricted pupils twitched across the deep lines of All Might's face, hewn from rock but somehow still kind enough that Izuku could breathe again.

"Midoriya. When you registered for the U.A. entrance exam, your registration forms marked you as 'Quirkless'. That is a mistake that we need your help to correct." Mr. Aizawa was carefully neutral, and Izuku could barely imagine having the fortitude required to be so unreadable. "It's important for us, the faculty, to know everything about our students that is vital to educating them. As a hero academy, we have to know about your Quirk. Understand?"

"Y...yes, sir." It was barely a whisper, thin enough to slither between his teeth, bared in a smile held together with wire and twine. "I-I'm sorry a-about damaging school property."

"Don't concern yourself with that, it doesn't matter," Mr. Aizawa dismissed, barreling straight through to his next point. "What I need you to do is recount everything you know about your Quirk, so that it can be officially registered with the school." His rib cage closed inwards, a hellish creaking that made his breathing tight and wheezy- "Midoriya, I need you to pay attention. You have my word that I will not ask anything of you that you aren't capable of, but this information is absolutely necessary."

"I'm-I'm-I-I'm-" Izuku gasped around the vise in his throat, one hand clutching desperately at the fingers locked around his shoulder because he had to-he had to find reality again, couldn't let the fear swallow him whole.

"Young Midoriya." The voice of All Might was a rattle, its source gawky and skeletal. Izuku blinked in vague recognition at Toshinori, his suit hanging in awkward bunches but his gaze no less intense, no less compassionate. "You're safe here. I promise. Take your time." There was an awkward smile on his face, as if he wasn't used to wearing it in his less powerful form, and a dazed part of Izuku's consciousness found it endearing.

It was helpful, that willing show of vulnerability from his idol. As much as the sight of All Might inspired safety and reassurance, there was something unsettling in the cut of his jaw and the dark pits of his eyes, forever cast in shadow. Seeing him worn and fragile but no less determined, no less sincere-it gave Izuku a spark of hope that he could manage the same.

"I-I guess I was four when it first.. happened. I had been playing with Kacchan in the woods, and-we got separated, I guess. I called his name and he didn't answer. I don't really... there was a dog-wild, o-or a stray, and I was... afraid. It was-going to bite me." Flashes of frothing saliva and gnashing teeth pulsed through his head, and he shivered. "I was more scared than I had ever been... I thought I might die. I closed my eyes and screamed and-everything went dark. When I opened my eyes, it was... d-dead. In pieces. Like some other animal had ripped it apart. I just laid on the ground, crying and throwing up but I couldn't feel my arms, or my legs. The sun was setting when I wandered back out of the woods, and- the fear followed me out. I was still.. it was hard to think, it didn't really hit me until that night, and I was too scared to tell my mom about what happened, because.." He trembled and squeezed his eyes shut, the burn of tears trickling down his face. "I knew that only villains had Quirks that killed."

Izuku scrubbed at his face with a hand, exhaustion and a deep, thrumming hurt making him wish he could just close his eyes and vanish from existence. He didn't look up, didn't meet the gazes of Mr. Aizawa and Toshinori because the fear still held him, still crunched him into a pathetic mess, and seeing them would rob him of the strength he needed to speak. "I spent my entire childhood lying about my Quirk. It was easier to lie, to say I didn't have one. Quirkless was okay, because-a-at least I couldn't hurt anyone. I experimented with it, a few times. I would sneak out of my apartment, and go down an alley or-to the park, and let the fear build up until it came pouring out. I'd leave-damage, wherever I went. Sometimes things turned to dust, or wilted and burned. I used it- three times, I think, before I was too scared to use it again.

"That changed during my last year of middle school. When.. I met you, All Might." Izuku twitched at the memory, a wrenching pain in his chest that couldn't be ignored, screamed for his attention. "After our conversation, I wanted to just... give up. I wanted to stop trying, and never use my Quirk again, just stay Quirkless for the rest of my life. But-you were right, about what you said, and- I-I know you weren't trying to hurt my feelings or anything. So I.. trained, with it. M-My Quirk. I tried using it over and over again, hoping I could figure out something, some way to make it work-and I guess I.. sort've, did. I realized that what I felt before activating my Quirk dictated what I would do. When I used it in the entrance exam, t-that girl.. I was terrified, and I had to save her, and it... it worked, I guess." Barring the part where he'd almost traumatized a girl that had been nothing but kind to him, he reflected bitterly.

"Thank you very much for speaking with us, young Midoriya. I imagine it must have been very difficult to talk about." Toshinori was offering his slightly crooked smile again, and Izuku stared at it in a daze before he smiled back. It felt... genuine, less like the mask he wore when he was frightened, or the lynch pin that kept him together when he was devastated.

Mr. Aizawa cut the moment short, his eyes cutting and perceptive and his lips curled in thought. "You say your Quirk is controlled by intent. Is that what happened in the grip test? Describe your intent for me, whatever you felt in that moment."

Izuku swallowed a lump of scorching dismay, his gaze drifting down to his previously injured palm. He twitched each finger, one at a time, and attempted to remove his focus from his own words. "I was afraid. I was so afraid that I'd be the one expelled, and I wouldn't even get a chance to attend U.A. I m-messed up during the first test, and so-I knew I had to do something. I couldn't just skate by without utilizing my Quirk, and I was desperate to make an impression, t-to prove that I was good enough. And all that fear and expectation.." Izuku reached up, fingers trailing across the fabric of his gym uniform. "I could feel it building in my chest, until it all just-burst out. But it was-different, than before. I still felt.. loose, and incoherent, but I was still me. The fear hadn't taken over."

Midoriya shook from nerves under the intensity of Mr. Aizawa's scrutiny, dark eyes searching for something buried in his naked expression. "It's vague, but it'll do for now. Our next step is to update your records. A professional Quirk assessment isn't strictly necessary, but we need something for your file. Your Quirk needs a name, and a short description. It probably won't be permanent, but take it seriously regardless."

Izuku wilted at the gravity of the request, pained at the thought of having to speak further about the thing he was most afraid of. But-it wouldn't be so scary if it had a name, would it? Knowing how it worked, labeling and cataloging it just like any other Quirk.. maybe that would make it less terrible. "I... uhm. It's a t-transformative Quirk. It induces irrational f-fear in the user and any surrounding persons, and c-channels intention into destructive energy. The form it takes is... inconsistent, but usually i-inhuman. It's-" Izuku sucked in a breath, reminding himself that he had two of the most aptly suited heroes in the world to help him through his fear. "It's called 'Living Nightmare'."

The words fell like broken bells, their dull, rusted clanks forcing a shudder out of Izuku's body. And it was still his body, for that moment, and he had to remind himself that there was a semblance of control in his grasp, he had not been completely consumed. The darkness was still there, heavy and winding and dreadful-but it had a name. Living Nightmare was not a calculating horror that had ensnared him, deigned to puppet his limbs and twist his ailing mind for monstrous purposes. It was just a Quirk. It was just a Quirk.

"Succinct. I'll be sure to have your file updated by tomorrow. One last thing," Mr. Aizawa muttered, the tense rigidness of his frame falling out in tiny increments, allowing him to gradually slump back into the silhouette of 'impatient teacher that needed a nap' that Izuku had first seen him in. "In the interest of avoiding a meltdown in class tomorrow, you're going to let any classmates that ask know that what happened was an accident with your Quirk, and I pulled you aside because it was convenient timing to correct an error in your files. If you wanna go into more detail, I'll leave it up to your discretion."

"T..thank you, sir." Midoriya peered between Mr. Aizawa's sliver of a stare and the silent support of the Number One Hero, a gush of forgotten hero worship staining his chest and leaving him flustered. "I-I'm really sorry for bothering you both about this-"

"Hey, don't worry about it kid. We're your teachers; of course we're gonna pitch in." Toshinori's smile was lopsided and almost teasing, in the same incomprehensible way that the nice girl's (that he still didn't know the name of he was so bad at talking to people) had been, when she'd first helped him. "Aizawa brought me along solely for moral support, which should be a good tell. Come to think of it, I'm pretty sure that's the only reason he ever lets me go anywhere with him. I think I embarrass him."

Izuku stared blankly at Mr. Aizawa's instantaneous glare, doing nothing to squash down Toshinori's deadpan teasing- and the sheer absurdity of the situation forced a laugh out of him, bright and unguarded and embarrassing because he couldn't recall the last time he'd laughed and had it always been so high pitched? He flushed up to his ears when two sets of eyes turned his way, his own gaze swiftly averted. "U-uhm, sorry, did you n-need to talk to me about anything else?"

"Nope. Head back to class and pick up a syllabus. The rest of your classmates are probably on their way home by now." Aizawa kept his gaze firmly rooted forward, paying less than zero attention to the obnoxious blond idiot winking repeatedly at the side of his head. Harder to ignore were Midoriya's stifled squeaks of laughter, the kid's face inflamed with mortification. "That wasn't a suggestion. Do it now."

Izuku nodded frantically, sliding off the hospital bed and bee-lining for the door. His call of 'S-See you tomorrow Mr. Aizawa, Mr. All Might!' rang out just before he stumbled through the door, and that was the cue Aizawa had been waiting for. "Okay peanut gallery, I have important things to do and you're already slowing me down. Don't you have a pomade factory to endorse, or something?" He slipped past Toshinori without waiting for a response, nodding in vague acknowledgement to Recovery Girl on his way out.

Toshinori stared after him, groaning at the aches that resulted from standing up. "You're a strange man, Aizawa. But there's a reason you're a hero."
--
Izuku Midoriya crept almost guiltily down the empty halls of Yuuei, the clomping impact of his bulky shoes against linoleum tile ringing out to break the silence. It felt almost wrong to be on campus past school hours, like he was up to something nefarious. Logically he knew that faculty members were still present in the building, and would likely continue to be for a while longer. He was just so used to rigidly adhering himself to rules and guidelines, terrified of being singled out if he mistepped.

But things would be alright, surely. More alright than middle school, where he was barely more than an annoyance when he even managed to blip on his teachers' radars. Mr. Aizawa and Mr. All Might (that still felt like something from a fever dream, his idol teaching him) had been so kind and understanding that it made his chest hurt. Knowing they would try to help, knowing they would work with him- maybe tomorrow he'd be able to process it, once he'd woken up and figured out that it wasn't just a dream.

The telling '1-A' sign caught his attention after minutes of walking, relief budding tentatively in his chest. He pulled open the intimidatingly large door and bee-lined for his desk, making sure his backpack was unharmed and unmolested. He'd only just leaned down to inspect the zippers when the door slid shut with a 'clack', cementing him in place. And he should have learned, should have known that dreams didn't exist, and the only things he could rely on were nightmares.

"Deku. You pathetic fucking liar." Katsuki Bakugou stepped away from the classroom door, his entire body shaking and trembling with white hot rage. Izuku could feel it in the air, like the oppressive heat of summer humidity pushing down on him. How could he have forgotten, how could he not have realized-his Quirk was not a leg up, helping him move forward. It was a weighted iron shackle, packed to the brim with nitroglycerin. And if he didn't treat it with enough care, it would explode.

"K-Kacchan please-" Izuku gasped out in pain when he was shoved to the floor, scrabbling on hand and foot to try and right himself, to press his back against the wall-

"PLEASE AIN'T GONNA CUT IT, DEKU!" Kacchan's voice cracked through the air, and Izuku flinched as if he'd been struck. He peered up into molten red eyes, his breath shortening into hysterical pants. "You liar, you fucking liar you FUCKING LIAR! I KNOW YOU DON'T HAVE A QUIRK! You might be able to fool that FUCKHEAD teacher, but you can't trick me." Izuku whimpered when soot stained hands twisted in his collar, lifting him to his feet and crushing him against the wall. Kacchan's teeth were bared in a vicious snarl, his anger radiating off him in waves. "You're not gonna RUN AWAY FROM ME THIS TIME! So save yourself some pain and tell me what the fuck you did!"

Midoriya twisted and gasped and fought for an excuse, but he knew there was no way to avoid Kacchan's rage, not anymore. "I-I-I'm s-sorry Kacchan," he sobbed in a wretched breath, tears pouring down his face in putrid rivers. "I'm s-sorry I lied, I'm so sorry, I-I-I was so scared, I couldn't t-tell you I couldn't h-hurt you-"

"SHUT YOUR FUCKING MOUTH," Bakugou roared in his face, his eyes manic and pupils engorged and the dread in Izuku's gut became a geyser because he could see the fear shoved down behind Kacchan's anger- "You FUCKING LOSER, SHUT THE FUCK UP! YOU'RE WEAK, DO YOU FUCKING UNDERSTAND ME?! You've NEVER been strong enough to hurt me, NEVER! YOU'RE PATHETIC!"

"DON'T YOU THINK I KNOW THAT!?" Izuku's desperate shout, warbling and choked with misery, hung in the air for a long moment. "D-don't you think I get it? I k-know how strong you are, Kacchan. Yo-you've always been better than me, a-and that's why I could n-never tell you. I w-wasn't strong enough not to hurt you!"

"Don't give me that bullshit, Deku! You're worthless, there's nothing you could do that could ever threaten me." Kacchan's volume had fallen, but the rage and fear and uncertainty had only thickened in his venom infused tone. He tightened his grip on the collar of Izuku's uniform, heat radiating from his palms as the smell of explosive fumes filled the air. "And I'll prove it to you! I'LL FUCKING SHOW YOU WHY YOU SHOULD HAVE NEVER EVEN TRIED, DEKU-"

"What are you trying to prove?!" Izuku cried desperately, eyes blurred with tears but still staring, still unable to look away from the fear in Kacchan's burning red gaze. "I-I know you're stronger than me, I know! And-and I'll prove it to you!" Izuku shoved Kacchan in the chest, his consciousness fracturing from the heady haze of fear that threatened to swallow him whole. The shock of the shove was enough for Kacchan to let go, disbelief clear on his face.

Izuku could see the anger struggling to resurface, aching to explode in an inferno with Izuku at the epicenter-but he couldn't let it. He reached up with trembling fingers and ripped down the zipper of his gym uniform, yanking his arms through the sleeves and leaving his torso bare and exposed. Dark red lines traced across his torso in rigid, alien patterns, the skin puckered around the edges of each one. Dozens lined across his stomach, his chest, his back, dark and angry and impossible to ignore. He could feel Kacchan's burning gaze locked on them, and could taste the silence in the air. "D-do you get it, yet? This is what m-my Quirk did to m-me. Just from using it. Can-can you even imagine what it would do, if I used it on someone else? On you, Kacchan?"

Izuku squeezed his eyes shut, unable to bear looking into Kacchan's gaze, unable to handle the revulsion he was sure he'd find. When no response came forth, he shakily redressed himself, trembling so hard he could barely work the zipper. "...I-I'm sorry, Kacchan. I know you don't like when people touch you without your permission." Izuku carefully skirted around the other boy, shrugging the straps of his backpack on over his shoulders and fumbling to pick up a syllabus from Mr. Aizawa's desk.

Izuku didn't look back. He left Kacchan alone in the classroom and headed home, accompanied only by the static in his ears.

Chapter 9

Chapter Text

It was very telling of his state of mind, Izuku mused, when waking up so sick from fear that he had to puke was viewed with relief, because at least it happened before he ate breakfast. It was nothing that mouthwash and a thorough brushing couldn't erase, at least. He'd stopped biting his tongue over a month ago, after it had become too painful to brush his teeth and all his meals started tasting coppery. As far as he could tell there was no permanent damage, which was the best that he could hope for.

He'd layered on a plethora of clips once again, a chunk of his allowance having gone into buying ones of different shapes and sizes. The gentle weight that pulled at his curls was blissfully grounding, until the thought occurred that he might be violating some sort of school dress code with his accessories. The notion of parting with them was too painful to consider until it became a necessity, so he just allowed dread to well in his gut on the transit to school.

He checked the weather forecast on his phone while walking up to the main entrance, intent on not getting caught unawares by poor weather in the future. The rain was a nightmare to walk in, the sound of raindrops colliding with concrete so alike to hissing static that it make him nauseous. But the forecast was clear, and the sky was empty, and he hadn't been expelled, so everything was going to be-

"Heeey, Deku!" Izuku froze as two opposite stimulants collided with one another in his brain, thought process reeling as a kind, bubbly voice spouted the poisonous nickname meant only to torment him. His gears ground together for an excruciating moment before clicking into place, and he jerked his head up to meet a soulful brown gaze. He remained frozen until the kind girl bounced up to him, her smile sunny and oblivious. "I was getting super worried you weren't gonna show up!"

"W-wha-why were you.. w-waiting for me?" Izuku's gaze darted back and forth, and he couldn't imagine such a sweet girl had planned to corner him but the possibility was still there, maybe she hated him after what he did during the exam-

"I wanted to make sure you were okay! You didn't show up for the rest of the assessment, and Mr. Aizawa was really tight-lipped about what happened. Oh! I'm totally sorry, I just realized I haven't even introduced myself yet! I'm Ochako Uraraka! And you're.. Deku Midoriya, right?" The honeyed edge of her smile was blinding, and completely at odds with that horrible nickname that still made him flinch on reaction.

"I-It's... Izuku, actually. Deku is.. Kacchan's nickname for me. It's what he calls me to make fun of me." He winced the moment the words left him, so dour and gloomy and mood killing-

Uraraka's eyes widened in shock, remorse splitting across her face. "Ohmygosh I'm sorry, I had no idea! I just heard it because Bakugou was yelling about you when the assessment ended. That's a shame; it's a really cute nickname!"

"I-I'd really rather you not c-call me that, if that's okay," he murmured, most of his focus taken up by trying to figure out how the heck he was supposed to talk to someone that didn't want to make fun of him and wasn't an authority figure. "B-but uhm, thank you, for your concern! My hand was only cut up a little. Mr. Aizawa just pulled me out because there was some stuff wrong on my registration forms, and it was convenient timing to clear it up." The lie wasn't as painful as he had expected, perhaps because it originated from someone else.

But the earnest belief on Uraraka's face still sent a pang through his chest. "Oh, that's a relief! Everyone was really worried after your grip tester exploded. That was your Quirk, right? Is it like, strength enhancement?"

Izuku twitched, his inconsistent smile turning wire tight. "S-something like that, yeah. It's kinda complicated, a-and we'll be late for class if we d-don't hurry."

"Yeah you're probably right about that!" Uraraka agreed easily (so easy, no second guessing, no painful deliberation over what words were correct) and turned to bounce back towards the main entrance. "We can talk more at lunch-I spoke with Iida and Kirishima after class yesterday and they're both super nice, so I'm sure they won't mind if you sit with us!"

"O-oh uh, sure." It was overwhelming, the thought of not only having people willing to speak with him, but welcoming him to sit with them. He couldn't even remember eating a meal with someone that wasn't his mother (maybe Kacchan before everything had crumbled into ashes and embers). "I-I'm-that's really nice of you, t-thank you."

Uraraka's answering smile was something he yearned for, an expression of pure and genuine joy that he could barely imagine adorning his own face. "C'mon, let's go! I can't wait to meet the rest of our teachers!" She took his hand with soft, gentle fingers and tugged him along, shoes clapping against the stone works underfoot.

And Izuku figured her gravity Quirk was almost redundant, because the way she pulled him in with her demeanor alone was absolutely cosmic.
--
The first couple periods passed in an almost pleasant haze, startlingly mundane classes that didn't require too much of Midoriya's focus. It was easy to handle numbers and grammar because they didn't require any thought beyond simple solutions. Of course, his anxiety spiked back into overdrive (he was pretty sure that was the only available setting) when lunch period rolled around.

The bustling cafeteria proved to be incredibly difficult to navigate for someone who couldn't bear the thought of speaking up or forcibly moving someone out of their way. As a result, Izuku had pretty much stranded himself among a sea of bodies while desperately searching for the table he had been invited to sit at. His lacking height did him no favors, and he almost resigned himself to just squirreling away to a table by himself and apologizing profusely later when a loud, boisterous voice called out his name.

He snapped towards the source of the noise, catching sight of a boy with fiery red hair and a shark toothed grin standing halfway up his seat and waving an arm through the air. It had to have been Kirishima, the theory solidified when Iida stood up from the seat opposite him, making stiff arm motions and calling for Kirishima to sit properly. Izuku heaved a sigh of relief, and had just started reconsidering his life choices when he made it into earshot because the gravity of the situation had started dawning on him.

"H-hey, you guys," he called out, his voice carrying just far enough to be heard. Considering he was only four steps away from the table, it wasn't much of a feat to be proud of. He balked under the force of Kirishima's toothy grin, bright and friendly in a completely different way than Uraraka's had been.

"Hey Midoriya! Good to see you still got all your fingers." Kirishima gestured to the empty seat beside him and Izuku very carefully sat down, stiff as a board. "We were all pretty worried after what happened; you seemed pretty freaked out when it did. But Uraraka cleared it all up for us!"

"Yes, we are all pleased to see you have made a full recovery," Iida chimed in, his tone a lot... friendlier than Izuku had heard it before. Although maybe that was because he'd previously only heard Iida when he was lecturing someone.

"O-oh, uhm, that's.. good." Izuku desperately clawed for something to say, unable to process such a cheerful and bombastic attitude being directed at him. His eyes flickered desperately over Kirishima's face, before he simply blurted the first coherent thing that came into his head. "I-I really like your hair, how do you get it to stay up like that?"

There was a moment of silence where Izuku simply stared with wide eyes, the fingers of mortification crawling up his face, before Kirishima laughed aloud. Compositionally speaking it wasn't much different than other laughs Izuku had heard from teenage boys of a similar disposition, but the brightness leaking out made his chest constrict with an emotion he couldn't name. "Thanks, man! I basically just attack it with hair gel until it stops fighting back. You know, I was actually kinda curious about your 'do, too. What's up with the clips?"

Izuku's heart skipped a beat had he read the situation wrong was Kirishima mocking him he didn't know, hadn't had anyone mention his accessories in so long without it being cruel and derisive- "I-I-I j-just-th-they're, I-I mean I, u-uhm.."

"Hey, hey, slow down, man. Don't think I'm tryin' to rip on your style or anything," Kirishima soothed, his expression still open and friendly and Izuku was pretty sure it would be weird if he cried because of it but the urge was hitting him really strong-

"Yeah! I think they look super cute!" Uraraka's pleasant lilt wound around him with pure sincerity and good cheer, his heart tearing in multiple directions.

"It certainly lends you a unique presence. Very bold," Iida commented, gesturing widely with a pair of chopsticks and utterly unaware of the eruptions in Izuku's chest cavity.

"I was just curious about 'em," Kirishima continued, before the lunch room became a flood zone due to a downpour of tears, "I wanted to know if they were like, a Pride thing or something but I wasn't sure if that was weird to ask."

Izuku blinked, momentarily thrown for a loop. "A.. pride thing?" Was that a thing people did? Pride was such a foreign concept that he couldn't be one hundred percent, but he was pretty sure 'pride' things were constituted by adornments like medals, or owning expensive cars and sunglasses.

Kirishima winced, and somehow even that was so friendly that Izuku half wondered if he'd walked into a mirror dimension on accident- "Yeah, you know, like a Gay Pride thing? All the colors just kinda put the idea in my head, and I'm totally cool with it if it is, I just wanted to know."

Izuku's face burned like a kerosene lamp, his embarrassment physically pulling his hands to splay over his face. Uraraka giggled sympathetically, and he could vaguely hear Iida lecturing Kirishima about 'how presumptuous of a question that was you know some people are very sensitive about matters of that nature'. In a weird way it was relieving, because it afforded him enough time to formulate a response that wouldn't just be flustered stuttering. "N-no, it's not-uhm, that. N-not that I have a problem with t-that stuff! It's just, t-these are.. it just makes me f-feel better to wear them, is all."

Izuku had to choke down a whimper when Kirishima beamed at him, bright as the morning sun, and reached out with bold friendliness to ruffle the nest of green curls that weren't held down by clips. "Well they totally suit you, man! And it's pretty damn manly of you to wear 'em without carin' about what other people think."

Izuku sat in a daze as the conversation switched gears, turning to speculations of course work and jabs at their teachers, and he dared to wonder if he'd simply died and ended up in heaven by mistake.
--
The first few minutes of Hero Studies was met with a buzz of excitement among class 1-A, whispers and rumors travelling across the room in an ebb and flow of conversation. Izuku had taken to doodling in one of his notebooks that wasn't dedicated to Quirk research in an attempt to steady his nerves, but his shaking hands made every drawing come out wobbly. The sound of the classroom door being flung open ripped a gasp out of him, and every eye in the room turned towards it.

"BOOM! I AM HERE, OPENING THE DOOR TO EDUCATE YOU ALL LIKE A HERO!" All Might's booming cadence was loud enough to rattle the door frame, the bulky hero frog stepping through the door in a manner that allowed him to strike several poses per step. The latent excitement in the room erupted in a sea of exclamations, further bolstered by the Number One Hero's choice of Silver Age costume.

"Oh man, All Might really is a teacher here!"

"This year is gonna be so crazy, I can't wait!"

"Oh my god, is that the outfit he wore when he fought Madame Mercury? That's so nineties!"

"Welcome, ladies and gentlemen, to your most important class here at U.A. High! Here you will learn the basic foundations of heroism, the building blocks of every great hero!" All Might struck a pose that made his triceps bulge, his grin bolted in place. "And today, we'll leap in head first, with some TWO ON TWO BATTLES!" An explosion of noise answered him, and he laughed, deep and rumbling. "But before we can get to the good stuff, we have to look the part, don't we?" He pulled a remote out of.. somewhere (Izuku knew for a fact that the uniform didn't have any pockets) and activated it, twenty steel containers hissing and parting from the classroom wall. "TIME TO SUIT UP, FUTURE HEROES! When you're all kitted out, meet me at training ground Beta!"

Izuku ducked down to avoid the mad scramble of students looking to retrieve their uniforms, his own excitement ebbing at the thought of his costume. It had been a bit.. short notice, considering he'd long ago trashed his original costume ideas (all derivative of All Might) once he'd learned about his Quirk. Hopefully the sketch he'd come up with would be enough to suit him, and it wouldn't look too stupid.

He waited for an ebb in bodies before he quickly retrieved his own uniform, rushing out of the classroom to avoid being left behind. It was time to dive in head first, and wrest control of his Quirk into his own grasp.
--
Izuku nervously crept through the tunnel leading into the testing grounds, pulling at the edges of his costume. At least they'd gotten his measurements right, and had taken all of his requests into mind: unobstructed mouth, wide color pallet, breathable and easily removed.

He stepped out into the glare of sunlight, absolutely stunned by the sight of his fellow classmates, shining and heroic and so-so-

"Now that's what I'm talking about! You, young ladies and gentlemen, are the physical embodiment of young heroes-to-be! Let your costumes be a mark of identity, the symbol of your justice! Wear them proudly, and let them say: I AM HERE!" All Might thrust a fist into the air, his smile a monument, and he was met with cheers of exuberance from the majority of the class.

Izuku let the words wash over him, a comforting notion that had no chance of ever truly sinking in. He shuffled up to the back of the class, the motion catching Uraraka's eye. "Oh my gosh, Izuku you look so cool! That costume is totally not what I expected. I wish mine suited me that well!"

Izuku flushed, partially from the sight of Uraraka's form fitting and absolutely suiting costume, and partially because he was unable to handle compliments. "Y-you really think it looks okay?" He peered down self consciously, picking at the fabric again. His costume was fairly simple, in that he had few accessories or articles worn over the base outfit. The material was soft and breathable, thick enough to feel protective and thickened further at key impact points, like his knees and elbows. He was done up in bricks of numerous colors, vibrant enough to stand out but muted enough to not be an eyesore. Dark red lines marked up and down the torso, a series of hard angles that kept his other colors separated. His sleeves and pant legs were bricked halfway down, before transitioning into into soft whorls of airbrushed color, blending together until they disappeared into his bulky shoes and a pair of sturdy white gloves. He had numerous zippers, located at his wrists, elbows, shoulders, knees, and neck so that each section could be easily removed. A belt was looped around his waist, designed to easily be snapped off and used as a restraining tool. His protective mask was an opaque white and left his mouth open to the air, swooping black lines like the edges of a smile curling up at the sides. It fit snugly over the fabric covering his neck and jawline, held in place by a clasp on the back of his head. The same red lines trailed up his neck and bled into the false grin, the mask cut off just above his cheekbones.

"Yeah! It kinda reminds me of a painting at an art museum, or something. Totally abstract!" Izuku wasn't sure if those were the qualities people looked for in a hero costume, but Uraraka's sincerity still made his chest tight and his eyes burn. He opened his mouth to compliment her outfit, to somehow describe how cosmic and compelling her mere presence was without sounding stupid-

"Now that we're all ready and rarin' to go, let's get this thing rolling!" All Might's voice cut through the air, immediately grabbing the attention of the assembled students.

Iida immediately raised his hand, the motion impossibly smooth and quick even in his suit of armor. "Sir! Considering the fact that this is the same testing grounds where the entrance exam was held, does that mean this will be an urban combat simulation?"

"Not quite, young man! While the majority of villain battles broadcast on television happen outside, they are quite uncommon compared to indoor battles! The truly intelligent criminals don't put themselves out in the open so easily! For this exercise, I'll be dividing you all up into teams of two, and pitting you against one another in the roles of heroes and villains!"

All Might pulled a folded piece of paper out of his costume sleeve, and began glancing down at it intently. "Here's the scenario we've cooked up for you all: A pair of villains have been reported as having a stolen nuclear weapon in their possession! The heroes, tasked with quelling the threat, must head indoors and neutralize the danger! The heroes will be victorious if they either retrieve the weapon, or subdue the villains. On the flipside, the villains will prevail if they defend their payload until the time runs out, or they take out the heroes. Now, in the interest of saving time, we'll be deciding teams by drawing names," All Might produced a top hat as if from thin air, showing that the inside was filled with paper strips, "from this hat!"

Iida's hand shot up like a missile, his voice ringing out from inside his helmet. "Sir, isn't there a more.. professional manner in which we can choose teams?"

"In the heat of a battle, heroes rarely get a choice in who they team up with. They have to improvise on the spot, because villains won't wait for them to pick someone they synergize with," Izuku mumbled out loud, freezing up when a few heads turned to look at him. "I-I mean, uhm-"

"Hm. I suppose that makes sense," Iida mused, before his voice straightened out into an iron bar of surety. "Yes, this is a wonderful way of simulating the chaotic nature of hero work! Excuse my interruption."

All Might immediately waved him off. "Don't worry about it, now let's get started!"
--
The sight of Izuku's name up in the air next to Uraraka's was so startling that he couldn't even respond when Uraraka expressed her delight. He fidgeted with the end of one of his gloves, the material suddenly stifling. The fear of hurting her burned hot and dark in his chest, a sizzling lump that siphoned the breath from his lungs. He-there was still so much about his Quirk that he didn't understand, he could barely control it, could barely use it at all without being left sick and distant.

He'd just-avoid using it except as a last resort. And if he did use it, he wouldn't cause any physical harm, no matter what. It would all be fine, and it didn't even matter if he lost, because it was just a training exercise, and failure was a learning experience, right? It would hurt to let Uraraka down, but hopefully she wouldn't hate him if he did. And if that wasn't the case... well, it wasn't like he'd never been friendless before.

Izuku watched with glassy eyes as All Might thrust two hands in the air, each one clutching a ball marked by a team's letter. The last thing he heard before his senses turned to white noise was the hero's voice, booming with finality. "FIRST TO FIGHT ARE.. IIDA AND BAKUGOU, VERSUS URARAKA AND MIDORIYA!"

Chapter 10: Flashing Teeth

Chapter Text

Every beat of Izuku's heart resonated through his quivering flesh, a church bell locked away inside his chest. Hours felt like minutes and seconds felt like years, withering him away until he was nothing but a husk fused to the concrete. Fear was everything, and everything was pain. A pair of burning red eyes glared at him from the clawing darkness, and surely being consumed by them was better than losing himself, right? He stared in a daze, thoughts gelatinous and oozing, and his fingers twitched with the need to fall into furious red eyes. His lips moved, numb and loose, voice barely a whisper. "Just hold on just hold on just hold on just hold on-"

A hand jostled his upper arm, the physical stimulus from another warm body sending him screaming and crashing back into reality. Izuku gasped for air, one hand slamming to clutch against his chest as the other groped for the human touch, warm warm warm-

"Izuku? Izuku, are you okay? Can you hear me?" That hand flexed underneath his desperate grip, Uraraka's voice wrapping sweetly around his buzzing head. He lurched towards her, muscles lax and difficult to command. Her rosy round face and glimmering eyes entered his field of view, concern shining bright through her visor. "You spaced out when All Might announced the teams. Are you alright? Is.. this because of your Quirk?"

His lips and teeth and tongue mashed together for a moment, before slotting back into working order. "I-I'm-I'll be alright. I'm, just really.. nervous. Kacchan-I-I might have made him u-upset, the other day."

"Kacchan? You mean Bakugou?" Uraraka hummed in thought, her brows pinched together. "You two knew each other before coming to U.A., right? Is there something up with you two? You seemed a little more than 'nervous' when All Might said he'd be on the other team." There was no judgement in her tone, merely a smooth blend of concern and curiosity.

"It's r-really complicated, w-we-we're probably going to start soon anyway-" Izuku flinched when the loudspeakers set up around them burst to life with a hiss of static.

"Alright everyone, let's get the lead out! Your time starts now!"

"Guess that's our cue, huh? What floor do you think we should start on? I can get us up quick with my Quirk." Uraraka's face had been set with determination, her eyes scanning over Izuku's face.

He faltered for a moment, caught off guard, before hastily attempting to analyze the situation. "W-well considering this is a training exercise and not a real disaster, Mr. All Might p-probably went with an odd numbered floor for the first test to try and throw us off. H-he's pretty straightforward, so his randomization methods are probably pretty basic. There's no way he'd have it on the first floor right away, and the fifth floor is too obvious, so o-our best bet would be the third. I-I think. Even if it's not, i-it's a good middle ground to w-work our way up or down from."

"Sounds like a plan to me! Anything else I should know before we head inside?" Uraraka regarded him with a disarming smile, idly activating her Quirk on herself before pressing a hand to Izuku's shoulder. He gasped when all his mass suddenly stopped obeying gravity, legs quivering in an effort to stop from just floating away.

"U-uhm-Kacchan is really a-aggressive and not very trusting, s-so he probably left Iida to guard the bomb, and he'll be coming after me-I m-mean, us. B-be careful and watch your c-corners, I guess; he moves r-really fast."

"Get ready for an ambush, got it!" Uraraka flashed a thumbs up, leaping lightly off her feat and floating effortlessly up the face of the building. She snagged her fingers around Izuku's wrist before moving out of range, giggling when he yelped and flailed his feet once he was airborne. She sailed up to the third highest window, hauling herself through the opening and gently pulling Izuku in after her. She waited until he had found his footing before releasing her Quirk, a quick sigh spilling past her lips. "Alright, we're in! Let's move quick."

"R-right!" Izuku fed off the scraps of her confidence, his legs trembling but his steps sure footed as they hastened down the hall, surrounded on all sides by dull steel plates. The building was cold and impersonal, which made sense due to it being a mere testing shell, but it still sent shivers of unease down Izuku's spine. Any corner, he could turn any corner and see Kacchan's snarling face and fistfuls of explosive power, a comet of unstoppable destruction.

He let Uraraka take point, his footfalls following half a beat behind hers as they carefully combed the third floor. The high ceilings and narrow corridors felt like they were closing in on him, murky and poorly lit and just waiting for him to slow down, to blink, to think he was safe for even a moment. His heart beat against his ribs like a starving bird against its cage, breaths strangled to be as noiseless as possible.

Something prickling at the edge of his senses forced him to act, reaching forward to grasp for Uraraka's shoulder and stop her in her tracks. She glanced back questioningly, and it took him a moment to clear his throat and force out words. "I-I think I heard something," he whispered, his legs dragging him forward to investigate. He stopped half an inch from entering the next intersection, his breath turned to sludge because he knew- "GET BACK!" Izuku yelled and lurched backwards, half an instant before a devastating explosion erupted inches from his face.

The burst of heat and force made the exposed parts of his face sting, but his reaction time had left him unharmed. He backpedaled desperately away from the source of the explosion, lingering embers lighting up Bakugou's livid expression. "DEKU, YOU FUCKER! Running away like you always do, huh?! What a fucking surprise." Bakugou's costume only enhanced his naturally intimidating demeanor, his eyes flaming with anger behind his mask. "Why don't you just fucking lie down and cry, get this over with. We both know you're too scared to fight me."

Izuku shakily straightened up from his hunched posture, one trembling hand reaching down to snap his belt off his waist, the thick rectangle of fabric sturdy in his grip. He thumbed the top button on his belt buckle, inner clamps releasing to allow him more fabric to work with. When pulled taut, it was half again as long as it had been. He met Kacchan's furious gaze, words gushing forth before he could stop them. "I-I'm not afraid of you, Kacchan."

Katsuki froze in place, but Izuku knew he wasn't stricken, knew that the explosive blond wasn't shocked or caught off guard-panic screamed in Izuku's chest as Bakugou's rage shifted into next gear. "THEN I'LL REMIND YOU WHY YOU SHOULD BE!" He lunged forward with a vicious shout, his right arm hooking around, explosions bursting to life in his palm-

And Izuku slid around the predicted attack, snapping out with his belt to catch it on the priming pin of Kacchan's arm guard. He tugged with all his might, deaf to Bakugou's yell of shock when he was ripped forcibly off balance. Izuku tried to dive low, to pull Kacchan to the ground and twist his arm around his back-

But he was too slow, and Katsuki's left arm swung around in a wild blow, explosions cracking through the air as the solid arm guard caught him in the temple. The world fuzzed out of focus, pain ringing in his head as he stumbled away. His belt slipped from his hold, still tangled around the right arm guard. "Uraraka, run!" Izuku's voice rang off the walls, only exacerbating the splitting pain in the side of his head. He couldn't feel any blood, but that was the least of his worries with Kacchan stalking back over to him. He saw the blond prime his hands to launch him forward, and Izuku took his chance. He threw himself down a connecting hallway, shoes crashing against the tile in his haste to get away.

"DEKU, YOU FUCKING COWARD, GET BACK HERE!" Bakugou's bellow felt like it could peel the skin from his bones, so hot with anger and hatred that it made Izuku's eyes water. He tore off down the hallway, taking random turns to throw off the footsteps pursuing him. He was so terrified, so impossibly scared that Kacchan would find him, would force him to fight alone, but he had to lead him away. Uraraka could find Iida in the meantime.

"YOU LIAR, YOU GODDAMN SHITTY LITTLE WORTHLESS LIAR! THAT'S ALL YOU'VE EVER DONE! YOU LIED ABOUT BEING QUIRKLESS, YOU LIED ABOUT FLUNKING OUT! EVERY STUPID, PATHETIC SMILE ON YOUR FACE IS A FUCKING LIE TOO, DEKU! SO GET BACK HERE, AND I'LL SHOW YOU WHY YOU SHOULD BE AFRAID OF ME!" Every word struck like ice picks, punching Izuku so full of holes that he could barely stay in one piece. He ducked away into a side room, trembling and aching and unable to hold back the tears that trickled down his face.

He fumbled to activate the communicator in his ear, a crackle of static pulling a whimper from his throat. "Uraraka? C-can you hear me?" His voice came out in a breathless hiss, syllables wobbling unsteadily.

["Izuku, yeah, I'm here! I'm on the fifth floor, I found the bomb! I don't think Iida has seen me yet. Did you lose Bakugou? Can you get to me?"]

"I-I can still hear him, he's still too close," Izuku whispered, squeezing his eyes shut when he heard a muffled explosion. "I d-don't know if I can get to you in time, I-I'm sorry, I'm sorry-"

"NOT YET YOU AREN'T!" Katsuki's yell was punctuated by a deafening explosion and a squeal of metal hinges, the door Izuku had been relying on to hide him blown across the empty room. Izuku cried out in terror, scrambling to jump to his feet, to create some distance-

"A-aah!" He choked on his own spit when a burst sent Kacchan flying towards him, the force of their collision slamming Izuku into the metal wall and leaving his head ringing. "K-Ka-"

"SHUT UP, SHUT THE FUCK UP, I'M SO FUCKING SICK OF YOUR VOICE!" Izuku choked as hands stinking of sulfur strung him up by the front of his costume, slamming him into the wall hard enough to knock his breath loose. He gasped for air, Kacchan's strength leaving him dizzy with fear. "You never had a chance of escaping me, Deku. NOW IT'S TIME TO LOSE! IT'S TIME TO PUT YOU BACK IN YOUR PLACE!" Bakugou's face was so close to his own that the heat of his breath condensed on Izuku's mask, so impossibly close and so impossibly strong. "Don't look so scared, Deku. I won't hurt you so bad that they have to cancel the exercise!" His words were immediately followed by a fist to Izuku's gut, strong enough to force a cry from his throat.

Izuku could barely breathe, could barely see, his eyes stinging from nitric fumes and his entire body aching, the fear in his chest a howling monstrosity that wound through his limbs. Kacchan was strong, so strong. But what Izuku feared the most was something even stronger. He felt his limbs fall, limp and useless, every ounce of his consciousness being ripped apart from his body. But he had to fight back, he couldn't allow it to hurt Kacchan, couldn't hurt Kacchan, couldn't-

Katsuki snarled in Deku's unresponsive face, screwed up in pain and terror, but it wasn't enough. He had to hear the words, had to force the worthless little shit to admit how much of a pathetic loser he was. He raised his fist for another blow, his teeth bared and grinding together-and froze. The entire world hung from a thread around him, swaying back and forth like a pendulum. His muscles turned to muck, cold and dead underneath his skin. All the fight in his bones and hatred in his gut were quenched by icy fear, like a fire drowned in ink. His breath caught, trapped amidst a cage of razor wires, and his eyes widened until he was sure they would explode out of his head.

Deku was staring straight ahead, both eyes unnaturally wide. They were piercing, cutting through Katsuki's flesh and stringing him up by delicate internal tissues. Two black hole pupils pulled him in, one bloated and writhing and consuming the color around it, and one shrunken to a vibrating pinhole amidst a toxic green ocean. Katsuki's trembling lips parted, and the breath was stolen right from his throat.

"Kacchaaaan," Izuku purred like a ball of steel wool trapped in a blender. He reached out with fluid fingers, gently peeling away the frozen grip that held him against the wall. He pulled Kacchan's fingers away, distantly aware that he could snap them like toothpicks, if he desired. He leaned in, leaned so close he could taste the harsh pants of Kacchan's breath. He studied quivering red eyes, pupils twitching over his own face. "You're afraid, Kacchan. That's good. You should be honest about your feelings."

Izuku gently splayed his hand over Kacchan's face, fingers sliding just beneath the coverings of his mask, and he smiled. His lips parted and his jaw widened, dozens of curving, misshapen teeth sprouting from his gums and crowding his mouth. Distantly, so distant, he could feel them cut into his gums and the roof of his mouth, blood staining his tongue. Pain was an afterthought, control had been wrested away. His limbs swayed under their own power, his distorted voice hazy and barbed and spouting words he had no decision in. "You're always afraid, Kacchan. It's nothing to be ashamed of; everyone is afraid. What's important is knowing what they're afraid of."

Katsuki's chest rose and fell in shallow heaves, his head fuzzy and aching and he was so sure he was drawing breath but the edges of his vision were turning dark, and all he could see was Deku. His limbs refused to obey, locked in paralyzing horror as Deku (no, thething using his face, using his voice) trailed affectionate fingers across his cheek.

"You're so afraid. But it's okay, because I've always known that. I could see past your anger, and your violence, and your bravado. I know why you hate me, Kacchan. I understand." Izuku was screaming somewhere, the sound coming to him like a cellphone ringtone on a packed train car. It was so indistinct, so incapable of affecting him. "You're scared of not being good enough. Of not being strong. Of not living up to your own expectations. You're terrified of coming up short. And it made you feel strong to torment me. Someone too weak to stop you was proof, right? It proved you were strong. It proved you were good enough, when you could hit me until your own hurt went away, at least for a little while."

Katsuki wanted to scream, to deny everything and beat Deku into pulp and-move, he had to move, but his limbs were dead weight and Deku was gently pushing him out into the hallway, the shadows thick and tangible and trailing off his silhouette like smoke. He managed to twitch his lips, frozen in a scowl, but it wasn't enough to free him from the spacial rendings inside Deku's eyes.

"So you used me to relieve yourself of your inadequacies. After all, how could anyone think you were weak with little worthless Deku around?" Izuku's lips spread wider, his mouth an angler's maw spewing poison. Every world left him in a sweet, breathy tone, wrapped in static and sinking into the cracks in the walls. "But it's alright, Kacchan. It's okay to be afraid. And I promise you'll feel much better, if you just give up. Give up and let me win."

Rage burned unhindered in Kasuki's gut, building and building and feeding off itself, incensed by Deku's smug voice and the horrible mess of his face, still pulled into a self assured smile. It was infuriating, it was maddening, the pull of devouring green eyes and the scorching heat in his limbs fighting against each other. All he could think about was getting away, making Deku shut his mouth forever, never having to hear his voice again. Katsuki blinked.

Izuku was ripped back into reality instantaneously, the pain of his battered stomach and bruised temple and bleeding mouth hitting him with a sledgehammer's blow. The excess teeth in his mouth were gone, his vision was even, and all he could see was a trembling, hyperventilating Kacchan. Guilt ravaged his insides with enough force to have him seeing stars, the sheer pain and remorse bringing tears back to his eyes. His lips trembled, his fingers twitched, a desperate apology rose into his throat-

And it became an agonized scream as his entire world was consumed by fire, noise, and agony.
--
["Uraraka? C-can you hear me?"] The sound of Izuku's wobbly voice, soft and tinny in her ear, made Uraraka sag with relief. She scooted further down the wall she was pressed against, hidden around a corner that was just out of Iida's field of view.

"Izuku, yeah, I'm here! I'm on the fifth floor, I found the bomb! I don't think Iida has seen me yet. Did you lose Bakugou? Can you get to me?" She waited patiently for a response, her voice a soft murmur to avoid alerting Iida.

["I-I can still hear him, he's still too close."] She could hear a muffled explosion through the communicator, and felt a brief vibration in the floor at the same moment. ["I d-don't know if I can get to you in time, I-I'm sorry, I'm sorry-"] The moment where her heart would have broken at the sound of misery in Izuku's voice was eaten up by an indistinct shout from Bakugou, followed by a booming explosion and crashing metal.

"Izuku, are you okay, did he find you?!" The only answer was a pained cry, before a cacophony of jostling bled through. A moment after the communicator buzzed with static, the noises it picked up coming through choppy and incomplete. "Izuku, can you hear me? Izuku?" She glanced around the corner to find Iida still patrolling, quickly ducking back into cover and daring to raise her voice a notch. "Are you alright? Can you hear me?" Faint snippets of raised voices answered her, impossible to understand.

Uraraka bit her lip, torn in indecision. She wanted to win the exercise, of course she did, and her window of opportunity was quickly running out. But thinking about Bakugou's behavior when he first found them, his screaming anger and hyper focus on Izuku-it made dread curl in her chest, uncertainty pushing her to make sure her friend was okay.

A sudden burst of noise shrieked through her communicator, howling static that burned straight into her eardrum and forced a cry from her lips. She ripped off her helmet and plucked out the communicator, the ringing in her head so painful that she didn't even realize the flickering lights weren't her impaired vision.

The noise that had come through the communicator, she had heard it before. Horror dawned on her in half a moment, her painful recollection of the entrance exam thrust to the forefront of her mind. Izuku's Quirk-there was no way he'd use it unless he was under extreme duress, right?

Decision made for her, she came around the corner and stepped into the bomb room, Iida's gaze immediately locking onto her through his full helmet. "Well little hero, you've come at last! And alone, at that. Your confidence will be your undoing, and this blunder will be the last mistake you ever make!"

Uraraka threw her hands up in a surrendering gesture, words piling on top of each other in an effort to make it out of her mouth. "Iida, wait! I think something's really wrong! I was talking to Izuku when Bakugou found him, and Bakugou was so angry before, and-and I think I heard Izuku use his Quirk!"

The gravity in her tone was apparently enough to convince Iida to drop his villain act, concern clear in his voice when he spoke next. "Are you sure? Where are they located?"

"On the third floor, we need to get there before they really hurt each other-" She cut herself off when Iida raised a finger, urgency tingling under her skin. She waited for him to press his finger to the communicator in his helmet, listening to whatever was coming through.

"Yes sir, we believe Midoriya and Bakugou's conflict is the result. Uraraka approached me in concern that their fight was taken too far. Yes sir, we'll investigate at once." Iida lowered a grave look at her, hands stiff at his sides. "That was All Might. He said the camera feed went out on the third floor, and he wants us to make sure everything is alright. The match is on standby."

Uraraka's heart skipped a beat, and she nodded resolutely, determination settling in to flatten out her worry. "Okay, you go on ahead. I'll catch up." She wasted no time in rushing for the nearest staircase, flinching as Iida's Quirk sent him blitzing past her. She scooped up her communicator on the way there, wincing at the blast of noise that persisted until she switched channels. "All Might, sir, can you hear me?"

["Loud and clear, Uraraka. Do you have eyes on the situation yet?"]

"N-no, not yet. Iida went on ahead, because he's faster. I just.. I think you should have Recovery Girl on standby. I'm really worried, sir." She forced her voice to stay steady, focusing on the easy rhythm of her footsteps. She cut around the edge of the stairwell, skipping the first three steps in her haste to make it down.

["She's already on her way. Don't fret, young Uraraka, we'll do everything in our power to ensure the well being of Midoriya and Bakugou."] All Might's voice, even when framed by fuzz and urgency, sent a spike of relief through her. He was the greatest hero in the world for a reason. He could handle any situation thrown at him.

She stumbled on the last step leading to the fourth floor when Iida's voice carried up the next stairway, skewered with barely contained panic and urgency. "-I found them, sir, both unresponsive! Bakugou is unharmed and conscious but he won't answer me, and- Midoriya received grievous wounds on his face, and is bleeding heavily. I turned him on his side to prevent blockage to his airways, but I'm afraid to move him any further. Sir, please hurry!"

Uraraka choked on the wellspring of tears that burst forth, her eyes misty and burning. She activated her Quirk on herself, leaping down the entire set of stairs in a single controlled motion. She tumbled to the ground the moment she released her zero gravity, nausea roiling in her stomach for more than one reason. "Iida! Iida where are you?!"

"Down this way, take a left!" Iida's voice rang off the walls, leading her frantic pace towards him. She skidded into the hallway to her next left, a cry of shock ripped from her throat at the sight of the incident.

Iida was on his knees, his helmet tossed carelessly to the side and his face twitching with concentration. Sweat beaded down his brow, his hair tussled and matted from the helmet. Bakugou was three paces away, absolutely still and absolutely silent. His hands were held out in front of him, palms open and trembling up to his elbows. And Izuku was splayed from the shoulders up across Iida's lap, limp and unconscious. Spatters of blood marked the wall opposite Bakugou, and to her horror there was more of it staining the front of Izuku's uniform.

"Oh no, oh no oh no, Iida what happened?!" She rushed forward, sinking to her knees when she was only a few feet away. She read the tension in Iida's shoulders, so tight that she was sure he would snap, and refrained from moving any closer.

"The damage to the right side of Midoriya's face is-severe," Iida gritted out, hands infinitely gentle as they angled his classmate's head. She could see glimpses of blood marking his thighs, and failed to stem her tears. "Bakugou is unresponsive. I couldn't coax him into speaking, or into moving. The structural integrity of Izuku's mask failed under the force of what I presume to be a point blank attack, but it likely absorbed some of the damage. He-the facial scarring will undoubtedly be significant," he whispered, voice pulled taut. "You don't want to see it."

"Oh god, oh god," Uraraka whispered numbly, hot tears running down her face and dripping onto the tile. "It's-he'll be okay, Recovery Girl will fix him. R-Right, Iida?"

Tenya was silent for a long moment, gloved hands carefully adjusting Midoriya's head with micro movements. The blood flow had been redirected, no longer trickling down his throat. It instead stained the legs of Tenya's uniform, indistinct against black fabric and leaving only minuscule trails down the armored plates.

"...Yes," he forced the word out, his gaze unable to be torn from the damages. The right side of Midoriya's head was smeared with blood, matting into his hair and running down into his uniform collar. Glistening red teeth stared up at Iida, peeking between the ragged holes where Midoriya's cheek was supposed to be. The flesh bordering the worst of the damage was blistered and raw, likely from the heat of Bakugou's explosion. Iida stared into the mess of blood and damaged tissue, swallowing the bile in his esophagus. "Yes, she will."

Chapter 11

Chapter Text

The world returned to Izuku in pulses and clouds, inky droplets of sensory information bleeding into his watery consciousness. The first to return was pain, dull and throbbing but not debilitating. It was something of an afterthought, a footnote to be reviewed later. He was horizontal, laid out on a comfortable surface and covered up to the middle of his chest with sheets. His toes twitched, free of his shoes. His hands felt.. mostly okay, unharmed but a little chilly from the room temperature. His mouth was sore, though, and that soreness extended into a mural of numbness and a deep ache on the right side of his face. He could feel his skin pulled tight by something-gauze and medical tape, most likely.

There was an IV taped to the inside of his right elbow, but he was unsure of what drip he was on. It had to be either saline or a mild painkiller, he imagined, but couldn't confirm. He couldn't hear any beeping, so his wounds weren't severe enough to require him being hooked up to an EKG. He tried to yawn, confused when the right side of his face didn't move, and blinked open his eyes as concern settled into place.

The sight of sterile white sheets and soft, unassuming colors drew his gaze, recollection click, click, clicking into place. He was in the nurse's office, he was-he was injured, the training exercise, he'd-Kacchan, his Quirk-

"Oh, you're awake! Faster than I expected." Recovery Girl's voice rang out, and he flickered his wobbling pupils over to find her entering the patient area. "How are you feeling? Any pain?"

Izuku took a long moment to formulate words, shoving back the tide of guilt that threatened to drown him from the inside out. "M-my face hurts a little, b-but it's mostly numb. H...how badly was I injured?"

"Quick and to the point. At least you're a well behaved patient." Recovery Girl stood at the side of his bed, inspecting his IV. "You sustained a few minor lacerations to the inside of your mouth, as well as surface level bruising on your ribs and right temple. Those healed up quick. Your right cheek, on the other hand, was seriously damaged. You lost seventy percent of the tissue present, and received second degree burns around it. Your burns should be mostly healed, and your tissue should be all but recovered, but you're going to have serious scarring once it's finished closing. There was nerve damage as well; the numbness in the side of your face is permanent, I'm afraid. However, once you're recovered, there's always the option of reconstructive surgery, which the school will cover."

Izuku stared straight ahead, the numbness in the side of his face infecting the rest of his body. His fingers trembled, his left hand twitching with the subconscious desire to touch his face- "I-I... will I be able to e-eat okay?"

"Yes, you will. My Quirk was able to restore everything but the full epidermis and the outer layer of nerves. You're extremely lucky, young man." Recovery Girl busied herself with removing his IV, and the brief sting went completely unnoticed. He could barely even feel her swab the inside of his elbow clean, and tape gauze over it. "I want you to check in here for at least the next three days, so I can change your bandages and repair some of the scar tissue. Now, I believe you have a visitor."

Izuku watched her leave, unblinking, and heard the door to the office click open. She shared a few words with a voice he didn't really recognize, sneakers clapping against tile as they entered past the curtain. It was-someone from his class, he was sure. Toko.. something. His appearance was striking and unforgettable, considering his avian visage. Izuku stared blankly at the curve of his beak, the sharp set of his eyes, and the sleek crown of feathers sprouting from his head.

"Midoriya. Mr. Aizawa sent me to check up on you." The feathered boy's voice was much deeper than Izuku had expected from a fifteen year old, and there was very little inflection in it to go off of. "I don't believe we've been properly acquainted as of yet. My name is Fumikage Tokoyami."

Were he in a sound state of mind, Izuku would have read the other boy's stiff posture and general air of uneasiness, and kept his words to a minimum. But considering the majority of his brain power was going into preventing a panic attack, he merely spouted the first thing that came into his head. "Y-your feathers are really shiny, do you use shampoo on them, o-or is there like a special product that you buy?"

Tokoyami gawked at him, completely thrown off guard. Izuku patiently watched his classmate fumble for words, before slowly falling back into his stride. "I-yes, I do use shampoo, as well as an oil that keeps my feathers healthy. But that is not the purpose of my visit. I am here to confirm your recovery, and transfer information." Tokoyami dug into his pocket, holding out a laminated card for Izuku to take. "Mr. Aizawa wanted you to have this. It's account information for the school's website, that will allow you to view the footage of our training exercise today. Every match is available for viewing, except for your own."

"T-the match," Izuku stuttered, heart clenching as the gears in his head finally clicked together. "I-Kacchan, is he-is he okay, was he hurt?!"

Tokoyami's eyes narrowed, more in confusion than any sense of hostility. "Bakugou was physically unharmed. After assuring everyone you'd be alright, All Might spent several minutes trying to talk to him before he responded to outside stimuli. He demanded to see you. Very violently, in fact. All Might ended up sending him to speak with principal Nedzu. Rumors are circulating of his expulsion, but there's no concrete evidence yet."

"E-expulsion-" Izuku felt sick, a churning, noxious brew melting through the lining of his stomach. He couldn't let Kacchan be punished for his mistake, couldn't rip away his goals, couldn't hurt him anymore. "I need to see him-he can't be expelled, he-"

"Mr. Aizawa told me you would ask to see Bakugou, and informed me to make it explicitly clear that you are not permitted to do so." Tokoyami stood like a statue, his expression difficult to read without lips. His voice was stern, however, and brokered no argument. "There is also another reason for me being here. Mr. Aizawa pulled me aside, and informed me of the hardships you faced with controlling your Quirk. He went into very little detail, but made it clear that you are struggling, and he chose me to speak with you for a reason."

Izuku sat up in bed, panic bubbling and crackling and so close, so close to pouring out of his mouth in a scream because he had no control, couldn't handle everything happening so suddenly and terribly around him. "H-He t-told you about-"

"Midoriya. Please, calm yourself. He didn't go into any explicit detail." Tokoyami cleared his throat, sitting stiffly at the edge of Izuku's bed and maintaining eye contact. "Are you aware of the particulars of my Quirk, Dark Shadow?" Izuku stared, frozen, before slowly shaking his head. "Understandable. Dark Shadow is a Quirk that manifests as a shadow being, whom I can command to assist me in battle. It is weakened by bright lights, and strengthened in the dark. And for a very long time.. I was frightened of it. A being of pure shadows, residing forevermore within my very being-as a child, it was extremely daunting. I was afraid to use my Quirk, for fear of the potential danger it posed.

"And there are times when I am still unsure. Where I do not know if I should turn out the lights when I sleep. But this entity, Dark Shadow.. It could not be wrested from me, could not be removed. So I did not reject it; however, nor did I embrace it. There is a balance between the two of us, an understanding. I doubt Dark Shadow will ever truly 'belong' to me. But it is still a part of me, and thus I must accept it." Tokoyami blinked, hands curled neatly on his lap, and maintained steady eye contact. "I've seen your Quirk first hand, Midoriya. It is extremely powerful. And for you, I imagine it is extremely frightening. Am I correct in saying so?"

"..Y-yes," Izuku whispered, tears clinging to his lashes as he furiously blinked them back. He curled his hand in the bedsheets, thumb rubbing against the threads to afford him some sort of tactile grounding. "My Quirk is.. it's based off my own f-fear. The more afraid I am, the more powerful it is. And.. I-I'm always afraid."

"I see.. I will not be so vapid and callous as to say that I understand your pain. Everyone knows pain, Midoriya. Everyone knows fear, and uncertainty. But that does not invalidate your own turmoil. Let it be a comfort, to know that there are those who will know of your pain, and offer their support. Your struggle is unique to you, but that does not mean you must struggle in vain." Tokoyami cleared his throat, stiffly offering a hand out towards a teary eyed Izuku. "If... should you so desire, I will assist you in this. You are not alone in the darkness."

Izuku's gaze locked on the offered hand, his heart throbbing in his throat and stealing his breath. Had he been even a single degree more desperate, been even slightly less aware of Tokoyami's discomfort, he would have thrown himself at his classmate and bawled. But he still had some strength left. He could still shove back his desperation, still control himself. He accepted the handshake with trembling fingers, his grip solid and clinging. He released Tokoyami's hand the moment social customs demanded it, not wanting to make his classmate uncomfortable.

"T-thank you. Th-that-it means a lot to me, Tokoyami." He offered a smile, not one that had been practiced in a mirror for hours on end, but one that he couldn't stop from growing on his face, even if he tried. Tokoyami looked almost stricken, and Izuku had to imagine it was because of the bandages on his face.

Tokoyami cleared his throat, rising onto his feet and smoothing down a wrinkle in his uniform jacket. "Yes, well, I believe we should be getting back to class. Homeroom is very close to over, but Mr. Aizawa wished to speak with you before the end of the day."

"Y..yeah, okay." Izuku slowly climbed out of the patient bed, his legs a little wobbly from the toll of Recovery Girl's Quirk. He followed after Tokoyami's retreating back, lingering only to utter a quiet 'thank you' to Recovery Girl before they left the office.

Silence hung cool and still around them for a long few moments, the two students accompanied only by their footsteps. Izuku didn't mind it; it gave him time to formulate his thoughts, and Tokoyami didn't seem too keen on conversation anyway. Izuku could understand. Though his natural inclination was to try to be open and friendly, social interaction could be extremely exhausting, even when he was prepared for it.

And he was absolutely unprepared for when Tokoyami opened the door to the 1-A classroom, an instant clamor exploding from inside the room. At least ten different heads crowded the door, the only one he even recognized by name being Kirishima.

"Heey, if it isn't the firecracker himself, Midoriya! Wait that was kinda a bad choice of words wasn't it-" Kirishima's voice rang out first, his grin wide and toothy, good humor shining through even the brief embarrassment of his misstep. "We were just wonderin' when Tokoyami would get back with you! Good to see he didn't kidnap you into the underworld or somethin'."

Tokoyami merely scoffed in response, working his way around the crowd in the doorway to seat himself. That did nothing to deter the crowd, a girl with bright pink skin (and hair, which was tousled in a seemingly deliberate manner) pushing her way forward. "We were just checking out footage from the exercise, and it really sucks that your footage with Bakugou was corrupted, you were so cool when you stood up to him! I'm Mina Ashido by the way, and I just can't get over how brave you were-like wow!"

Izuku shrunk further into himself with every word spoken, blood rushing up to flood the left side of his face with mortification. His eyes darted pleadingly to Kirishima as more voices piled on top of each other, the only comprehensible information being everyone's introductions.

Kirishima seemed to catch on to his plight after a moment, and cheerfully shoved everyone else out of the way. "Alright alright, don't crowd him you guys! He's probably totally beat from his trip to Recovery Girl." He flashed a not very subtle wink Izuku's way, and was rewarded with half of a smile.

"Y-yeah, I'm feeling pretty worn out. I-It's really great to officially meet all of you guys, though!" He injected a bit of energy into his tone to downplay how exhausted he really was, and it seemed adequate enough to buy him some breathing room. After a few teasing comments he was left to sag in place, the conversation carrying to the other end of the room. "T-thanks, Kirishima," he mumbled.

"No prob, bro. You were lookin' kinda overwhelmed. Not good with crowds, I take it?" Kirishima laughed when Izuku turned a deer-in-headlights expression on him, razor edged teeth flashing. "Sorry man, it's kinda hard not to notice. You looked like you were ready to hurl in the cafeteria earlier."

"Y-yeah, I.. y-yeah," Izuku muttered in embarrassment, too tired to come up some some sort of excuse or deflection. "S..speaking of lunch, I-w-would you mind if I invited Tokoyami to sit with us tomorrow? He-we um, talked a bit, and he seems r-really nice."

"Tokoyami, huh?" Kirishima tapped his chin, scanning over the mostly full classroom. "Considering he didn't drag you into the shadow realm, yeah! It's totally cool with me. The more the merrier, right? I'm sure Iida and Uraraka will be chill with it, too."

"Y-you're probably right." He had a hard time imagining Iida and Uraraka turning anyone away without a good reason. But even then, they hadn't turned him away yet. He'd refrain from counting down the moments. "D-did I miss anything else-"

Izuku's inquiry was cut off by the sound of a strangled yell of his name, giving him half a second to start turning before a pair of arms were thrown around his torso. He locked up, stiff as a board, before realizing that it wasn't a tackle. "U-Uraraka?!"

"Izuku, you're alright! Oh gosh, Iida and I were so worried! You-I'm sorry, I didn't mean to-" The arms crushing his ribs quickly unwound, and he managed to get in a quick inhale before he was left breathless by the sight of Uraraka's face, eyes puffy from crying and lips trembling with remorse. "I just.. you were in pretty bad shape when we found you, and I'm so glad you're alright." She pulled her expression into a weak smile, rubbing at her eye with a palm.

"I-I-I-.. uhm, i-it's okay, Uraraka! I-Recovery Girl fixed me up, I-I feel fine, promise!" Izuku fidgeted nervously with his fingers, trying and failing to sound reassuring. "Is.. where is Iida?"

"He went home early. You.. you were really banged up, Izuku," she whispered, gaze removed from his own. "I didn't see the worst of it, but Iida did. He might feel responsible for what happened." The tremor in her voice resonated in his bones, striking the impulse in his brain that made him so desperate to help others, and relieve their pain.

"I-I'll make sure to talk to him tomorrow. I don't want him to f-feel bad about what happened. It wasn't his fault." Izuku dredged up silty handfuls of bravery, the grains sliding through his fingers. "It's not your fault either, Uraraka. I promise. I don't blame either of you." He tried not to shrink away from the dewy shimmer in her eyes, determined to ease her mind. He maintained steady eye contact, attempting to make his sincerity known through half of a fractured smile. "It'll be okay."

A sudden burst of noise from the back of the classroom cut the moment short, voices raised in laughter over something that Izuku had missed. He squeaked at the sight of Mr. Aizawa rising up like a vampire from behind his desk, hair matted on one side of his head and his eyes red and irritated. "Alright you loiterers, that's enough. Class is over and you're impeding on my nap, so get out." He watched with a critical eye as everyone filed outside, Izuku managing a meek wave in response to Uraraka's departing smile. "Except for you, Midoriya. Stay put."

Izuku nodded nervously, settling into his desk with slow, careful movements. When Mr. Aizawa didn't react, he loosened some of the tension from his shoulders and slumped back into his chair. "Tokoyami said you wanted to talk to me, sir."

"Correct. I'm sure you're smart enough to realize that today's incident isn't something that can just be swept under the rug." Mr. Aizawa made eye contact so intense that Izuku had to physically prop up his head to not shy away. "Katsuki Bakugou is currently in the principal's office, with his parents. Similarly, your mother was informed of the situation and is on her way here to have a very important discussion. But that won't be for a little while. So until then.." Mr. Aizawa dragged his chair from behind his desk, the screech of the legs against the tile making Izuku wince. He watched with hitching breath as the homeroom teacher set it down only a few feet away from his own desk, and fell into it. Even when he was sitting down, Mr. Aizawa's presence felt like a looming shadow, nearly causing him to break into goosebumps. "You and I, are going to have a talk."

Chapter 12

Chapter Text

Izuku quailed under the force of Mr. Aizawa's inky gaze, feeling as if he had lost all sensation in the tips of his fingers and toes. He couldn't even imagine how debilitating it would be to have Erasure used on him. How villains didn't just faint from fear, he would never understand. "W..what do you want to t-talk about, sir?" His voice was trembling and ragged, sagging under the weight of his physical, emotional, and mental exhaustion.

"I doubt that you don't already have a fair idea. The incident with you and Bakugou isn't something this school can take lightly. What happened wasn't a training accident, or a few scrapes from roughhousing. This was a deliberate and damaging attack on another student. Coupled with an extremely hostile and uncooperative attitude, expulsion is looking to be the most likely outcome." Mr. Aizawa's tone was perfectly flat, but lacked any of the tiredness present in his face. His gaze was unwavering, and Izuku barely dared to even blink.

"Y-y-you-e-expulsion?! I-It-you can't expel him, i-it was my fault, not Kacchan's-" Izuku twitched and clamped his mouth shut when Mr. Aizawa's stare intensified.

"Midoriya, I feel like there's something I need to make very clear to you. Selflessness and self sacrifice are admirable traits, and are paramount to being a hero. But there's a term for when those attributes are taken too far." Mr. Aizawa's glare cut right through his retinas, and Izuku flinched when the hero's voice fell like hammer blows. "Self destruction. You don't seem to understand the gravity of the situation, so I'll put it in very clear terms. You could have died. Had Bakugou put more force behind his attack, he could have torn your jaw off. Had he aimed a little higher, he might have destroyed your right eye. The injury you received could have been debilitating in addition to disfiguring. Do you understand me?"

Izuku couldn't put forth the strength to stop his tears from falling, hot and ugly and shameful. His chest hitched with hiccuping breaths, and he did everything in his power to force the words past his misery. "I-I do understand, I p-promise! But-I u-used my Quirk on him, Mr. Aizawa." The words left him in a putrid whisper, burning like steam against the back of his teeth. "H-he was terrified. I could feel it. And-and I get that it was wrong, and h-he could have seriously hurt me, but-sir, Kacchan-" His words caught among a net of nettles, pinpricks cutting lines down his throat. But he had to say them. Had to make the truth known.

"Kacchan isn't well, sir. H-he's hurting very badly, and he doesn't k-know what to do about it. He doesn't-he needs help, Mr. Aizawa, not punishment!" Silence rang in his ears the moment after his words died in the air, his eyes screwed shut and leaking saline down his face. He could feel the edges of his bandages moistening, just underneath the skin of his eye socket. "I-I broke my promise.. I p-promised I'd never let a-anyone be afraid the way I am, a-and I-I have to make it up to him!" His words stripped his insides open, weakness and honesty oozing forth in a slurry he had no hope of containing. "...I know Kacchan isn't a bad person. I-I know he isn't," Izuku whispered, unsure if he was trying to convince himself or Mr. Aizawa.

A long moment passed before Izuku was brave enough to open his eyes again, vision blurry even when he halfheartedly wiped the tears away. He dared to look up, and found Mr. Aizawa's face was carefully neutral. He didn't seem as intense as before, thoughts quietly moving behind his nothing gaze. "..Do you think yourself exempt from the same, Midoriya?"

Izuku made a questioning noise, honest confusion on his face, and Mr. Aizawa sighed deeply. "You say that Katsuki Bakugou is hurting, and needs help. Selflessness and self destruction are not far removed, Midoriya. Do you think yourself beyond requiring the same care as Bakugou?"

Realization flashed through Izuku like a lightning strike, ozone hot and sparking in his chest. "N-no, sir, I don't! I just-it's just, Kacchan-he's, he really needs h-help, and I can-I don't w-want to impose on anyone, I-I'm-it's not s-so bad-" Every argument he could conjure fell apart like burning paper, ashes drifting around him in smoking trails under the heat of Mr. Aizawa's stare.

"You're fifteen years old, and you walk around like the weight of the world is on your shoulders. The way you interact with your classmates makes it explicitly clear that you have no experience with having positive relationships with your peers. You fold like a wet piece of cardboard when someone raises their voice. Don't be so dense as to let someone else's pain invalidate your own. I know you're smarter than that." Mr. Aizawa sighed, rubbing at the bridge of his nose as his words resonated inside Izuku's skull, twisting and melding with Tokoyami's advice. "We'll discuss this further when your mother gets here. Hope you're ready."

Izuku nearly leapt out of his seat when the main door of the classroom slid open, eyes wide and nervous before he recognized the impossibly familiar face looking in, lined with worry and marked by tear tracks. "Mom!"

Inko Midoriya was unravelled. Only half of her hair remained in the bun Izuku had seen her put it in that morning, green strands hanging loose and frazzled. Her makeup had been hastily washed off, flecks of mascara still clinging to her eyelids. Her entire demeanor was shaken to the core, and Izuku's heart burst like a supernova at the thought of the pain he'd put his mother through.

"Izuku! Oh, my baby Izuku, my baby boy-" Inko made distance irrelevant, clearing the classroom in what felt like a single stride. Izuku barely had time to stand before he was smothered by an embrace, tears springing to his already irritated eyes. He buried the left side of his face in his mother's shoulder, breaths hitching and catching and stuttering in his slowly tightening throat. He squeezed her with as much care as he could muster, the desire to bawl and cling to her as tightly as he could held back only by crumbling foundations.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry," he muttered in a broken mantra, voice muffled by the fabric of her clothes. He was barely aware of Mr. Aizawa, present only on the absolute fringes of the moment. He couldn't bring himself to be embarrassed-it was too painful to do anything other than cry.

His mother pulled back after what felt like an eternity, embrace released but her hands still lingering on his arms. "Don't apologize, sweetie. You have nothing to be sorry for." She cupped the uninjured side of his face, her unsteady smile only hurting him more, because it was the same thing he saw in the mirror every morning. "I'm just happy you're safe, Izuku."

Izuku could only nod, his shame a frigid burn in the pit of his stomach. He twitched at the sound of Mr. Aizawa quietly moving another chair across the classroom, metal legs lightly clacking against the tile floor. His teacher didn't say anything, and his expression was impossible to read, considering he wasn't in Izuku's direct line of vision.

His mother had apparently heard the noise as well, giving him one last squeeze before she removed herself from his person. She turned to meet Mr. Aizawa's gaze, looking more stable than a few moments before. "I'm so sorry, sir. I'm Inko Midoriya, and you're.. Shouta Aizawa, right? Again, I'm really sorry, thank you for having me." She reached out to shake his hand, and he almost looked surprised when she shook it with two of her own.

"Don't worry about it, Mrs. Midoriya. I understand that this is an emotional situation." Mr. Aizawa's tone wasn't quite reassuring, but it was certainly more polite than the barely contained annoyance he usually spoke to Izuku's class with. He gestured at the chair he'd dragged over, gaze half lidded. "Please, take a seat. Both of you. We have a lot to talk about."

Mr. Aizawa waited a few beats for Inko and Izuku to sit, before he settled heavily into his own chair. "Mrs. Midoriya, I'd like to begin by personally expressing my remorse for the situation at hand. Though today's training exercise wasn't technically my responsibility, Katsuki Bakugou is still one of my students. I should have recognized his animosity towards your son much sooner, and made an effort to create some distance."

Inko shook her head firmly, looking touched by Mr. Aizawa's words but still determined to refute them. "You have nothing to apologize for. You shouldn't be expected to understand everything about your students by the second day of class."

Mr. Aizawa blinked at the warm smile sent his way, gaze flickering to Izuku before it resettled on his mother. "Regardless, what happened was a gross error on the part of the U.A. facility. Your forgiveness is appreciated, but that doesn't excuse the lax handling of our students. From now on, we'll take much greater care to watch for signs that can help prevent incidents like this from occurring. Other than that, I'm here to speak with you on behalf of the school about the option of pressing charges for the incident. Your son has already expressed his desire to forgive his aggressor, but as his mother you have the final say."

Izuku's heart stuttered and buffered in his chest, functionality momentarily lost when his mother didn't say anything right away. He had just mustered up enough resolve to open his mouth when she spoke, quiet and calm. "I can't say I've ever been one to hold a grudge. Mr. and Mrs. Bakugou are good friends of mine, and I couldn't possibly burden them in a time like this. My only request is that little Katsuki gets the professional help he needs to control his anger."

Izuku breathed a sigh of relief; he hadn't truly doubted that his kindhearted mother wouldn't go through with legal charges, but the minuscule chance was still enough to cause anxiety. A moment later, he almost wished he'd kept that breath in, so he'd have a few more seconds to last before suffocation.

"Speaking of mental health care, I wanted to speak with you about the possibility of your son seeing an on staff psychiatrist from now on." Izuku wanted to curl up and die just from the peripherals of Mr. Aizawa's stare, weighty and piercing. "Your son is very intelligent and very determined, Mrs. Midoriya. He has a lot of potential, and I'd hate to see that wasted because of a mistake that could have been prevented."

Part of Izuku urged him to simply burst into flames of mortification, Mr. Aizawa's version of glowing praise barely computing at all. He glanced in his mother's direction, unsure of what he expected to see on her face.

"To be honest.. I had been considering the same for a few years, now." Inko's words were tinged with melancholy and regret, her volume subdued. "But I know how independent Izuku is, and I-guess I got it into my head that I'd be encroaching on that independence. I suppose that's something I'll always regret. Not trying harder." She blinked away tears, Izuku's heart shattering at the sight of his mother's upset.

"N-no, mom, it's-please don't feel bad, I-I know you were doing your best-" Izuku choked on his reassurances when his mother turned to give him a soft look, the motherly smile he was so used to seeing filled to the brim with love and pride tainted by a regret older than he was.

"You're the sweetest boy a mother could ask for, Izuku. That's why I wish I had done so much more for you." She dabbed at her eyes with a hand, uttering a quiet word of gratitude when Mr. Aizawa wordlessly handed her a tissue.

Mr. Aizawa regarded mother and son with a critical eye, silent and unreadable for a long moment. "It's an important life skill to be able to reflect on our missteps to avoid repeating them. But dwelling does nothing except cause more uncertainty. What's important right now, Mrs. Midoriya, is doing everything you can in the moment to support your son, which is why I strongly recommend he begin regular sessions with Ms. Atsuko. She's been working with us here at U.A. for almost eight years, and is an extremely well accredited psychiatrist. If you'd rather consult a professional that isn't affiliated with the school, feel free."

"I'll be sure to look into it," Inko promised, wiping her face clean and balling up the tissue. She cleared her throat, meeting Mr. Aizawa's gaze head on. "I'd also like to make it very clear that if a situation like this happens again, I won't hesitate to pull my son from this school and file charges against it. I understand that what happened today was a very, very unfortunate accident. But twice is negligence."

Mr. Aizawa nodded firmly, a begrudging respect surfacing in his eyes for all of a moment. "I understand entirely. I promise that we'll take measures to ensure the safety of your son, as well as the rest of our students."

Inko's expression softened, and she rose from her chair a beat after Mr. Aizawa stood up. She practically took his hand hostage once more, shaking it with vigorous gratitude. "Thank you so much for speaking with us, Mr. Aizawa. I'm glad my son has such a well spoken and compassionate teacher."

Mr. Aizawa stared at her as if he wasn't sure when she'd walked into the room, before shrugging one shoulder. "My job is to help kids like your son be the best they can. I'm just doing what I'm paid to."

Inko didn't look even remotely fazed by Mr. Aizawa's brusque response, her eyes shining. She bowed respectfully before turning to Izuku, startling him into clumsily rising from his chair. He hesitated halfway across the room, turning back to gaze hopefully at his teacher. "Mr. Aizawa? U-uhm... a-about Kacchan-"

"Yeah, yeah. I'll look into it, Midoriya." Aizawa pretended not to notice Midoriya's eyes fill with grateful tears, steadfastly looking in the other direction as his student failed to stifle his sniffles. He waited until the door to his classroom closed before he slumped, proper posture completely thrown out the window. He stared at his desk for a moment, part of him longing to crawl underneath it and nap in the nest he'd created, but unfortunately he had other matters to attend to.

"Paid vacation days are the least of what I'll need after this headache," he muttered, loping out of the classroom and towards the principal's office, silently preparing himself to make a complete about-face on his stance towards expelling Katsuki Bakugou. Nedzu would never let him hear the end of it.

Chapter 13

Chapter Text

Waking up the morning after the combat training incident felt more dreamlike than anything Izuku had ever experienced while unconscious. Instead of waking up with dread fumes building in his chest and last night's partially digested dinner spilling from his lips, he felt... almost okay. He'd pretty much resigned himself to the fact that he'd never feel good, that the taint of his Quirk would darken anything and everything for the rest of his life. But beyond that, there wasn't a whole lot he was instantaneously fearful of. It was a new day, full of potential for things to get better.

So he completed his morning routine smoothly, brushing his teeth with only a faint sting from his healing mouth wounds, and washing his face in the sink while taking care to avoid touching the bandages. The numbness in the side of his face was disconcerting, but easy enough to ignore for the moment. At least he hadn't been forced to see the scar tissue yet. He fought his hair with a brush until it no longer looked like he'd slept in a wind tunnel, and carefully placed an assortment of clips in the strands. Feeling almost whimsical (if whimsy had been disemboweled and left to die in a gutter, at least) he gathered up the scruff of hair at the back of his head and put it into a short ponytail with a rainbow hair tie. He considered himself in the mirror for a while, glancing at his hands and idly wondering if his mother would help him paint his nails.

After a few moments of deliberation he decided to bring it up by texting her in the middle of the day, too embarrassed to bring it up in direct conversation. He endured motherly kisses on his way out the door, face burning as he carried the packed lunch that he was incapable of refusing. He did everything he could to avoid noticing the sadness in her gaze, and forced himself not to read into her lingering embrace.

Even his transit to school was fairly peaceful, the train quiet enough for him to zone out on his phone and skim the multitude of hero fan forums he frequented. He intently tapped his phone screen with both thumbs as he stepped off the train, writing up his fifth paragraph in response to a post questioning the validity of Pro Hero #213, The Unshakable Hero: Steadfast's Quirk when he was suddenly assaulted on all sides by an eruption of noise.

"Hey kid, tell us what it's like to be learning under All Might-"

"Can you offer a statement about what All Might is like when the cameras are off?"

"Can you confirm true or false whether All Might is definitely involved in a secret villain conspiracy!?"

Izuku shrank away from the amalgam of steadily raising voices, an arsenal of microphones boxing him in place. His breaths shortened into quick, desperate pants for air, his thoughts whirring and crashing together while the anxiety in his chest spiked until it reached crush depth, constricting his airways until he was dizzy with fear. Dark spots danced in his vision, the world barely visible outside his swiftly shrinking cone of panic.

A sturdy hand on his shoulder pulled a yelp from his constricted throat, the noise cutting out only to be replaced by a familiar, reproachful bellow. "HOW DARE YOU HARRASS ONE OF MY CLASSMATES ON HIS WAY TO PURSUE A HIGHER EDUCATION?! THIS BEHAVIOR IS UTTERLY SHAMEFUL AND REFLECTS EXTREMELY POORLY ON ALL OF YOUR PROFESSIONAL CAREERS! I STRONGLY SUGGEST YOU CEASE AND DESIST BEFORE I CONTACT THE FACULTY AND HAVE THEM CALL THE AUTHORITIES TO DISPERSE YOU ALL!" Iida's glasses gleamed with authority in the light of the morning sun, his posture reminding Midoriya of a territorial bird.

The moment Iida's hand left his shoulder to be used in his exaggerated posturing, another one clapped down in the same spot, fingers thick and squeezing with friendly familiarity. Izuku turned enough to be met with red hair and a shark toothed grin, Kirishima's voice coming out in a whisper-shout. "C'mon Midoriya, we should give Iida some space to do his thing. I kinda wish I had a bouquet of flowers to throw at him or somethin'."

Izuku flinched in shock when a bubble of his own laughter completely blindsided him, cheek reddening as he nodded in acquiescence. He let Kirishima lead him around the crowd of bewildered reporters, their pace quickening to enter the school gates before they were noticed. Izuku almost felt disappointed when Kirishima released his grip, yearning for contact that didn't bring him suffering.

"Jeez, those guys sure are persistent. I had like three of 'em tryin' to tail me on the way here! Kinda hard to hide a camera crew, though." Izuku stared in a daze at Kirishima's blazing grin, so impossibly carefree and open and expressive. He was startled out of his reverie when red eyes turned his way, a moment of disconnect leaving Izuku woozy. The shade of Kirishima's eyes was more blood orange than anything, so unlike the raging inferno locked in Kacchan's. He idly admired the color for a moment, feeling loose and indistinct.

A hand waving in front of his face snapped him back into focus, Kirishima's voice fading in. "-orried there for a sec. You totally spaced out on me, man. I know I'm pretty stunning to look at, but-"

Izuku immediately sputtered to construct a believable defense, every inch of visible skin on his face inflamed. "N-no, t-t-that's not it! I-I mean, n-n-not that you a-aren't, u-um, I-I-I'm not trying to s-say you aren't um-g-good looking- UHM-"

A note of ringing laughter met his ears, forcing a whine from his throat as trembling hands instinctively moved to cover his face. "Hey, hey, calm down man! I'm totally flattered, but I was just messin' with ya." Kirishima tapped him on the back of one hand, and Izuku stifled a flinch before tentatively lowering his finger shield. He could feel the moment his classmate's gaze drifted towards the gauze on his face, the edges of Kirishima's smile softening. "I'd say it was fortunate that those paparazzi gave me an excuse to talk with ya, but that'd probably be pretty insensitive considering how messed up you looked with them around. I really wanted a chance to ask, though... how're you holdin' up? After what happened, I mean."

Izuku averted his gaze, unable to handle the full brunt of Kirishima's concern. "I.. I'm okay. A-and I really mean it, I'm not j-just-... It d-doesn't really hurt, a-and I h-haven't seen how it looks yet, so..I guess I can wait to f-freak out until then." He flashed a smile that he could barely feel, a facade of strung up porcelain. "I-I'm more worried about Kacchan, actually. H-he.. I don't blame him f-for what happened. I k-know he wouldn't hurt me like that on purpose."

Kirishima made a noncommittal noise, scratching one hand through his hair thoughtfully. "Can't say I really got a chance to talk with Bakugou yet. He certainly seems like he's a pretty big asshole, but.. yeah, he didn't strike me as the kinda guy that'd seriously hurt someone for no reason. All Might heard what he said before the footage cut out, too. 'I won't hurt you so bad they have to stop the exercise'." Izuku shrunk when he was turned under a critical gaze, one hand knotting nervously in the fabric of his jacket. "..Somethin' must've gone wrong between the two of you when the cameras went out, right?"

Blood sloshed in Izuku's ear canals, scorching hot with fear. The question would come any moment, Kirishima would ask about his Quirk, would want to know about it, know the truth-

"Hey, don't look so frazzled, man. Whatever's goin' down, it's your business, okay? I'm not gonna pry if you don't want me to." Like a match lit in a cave Kirishima's grin sprung back to life, one hand reaching out to muss a nest of green curls and the other jammed casually into his pocket. "C'mon Midoriya, let's get to class before Cementoss gets the chance to lecture us. I swear, it takes that guy like ten minutes to get through a sentence."

Izuku squeaked when an arm was flung casually around his shoulders, loose and friendly and in no way constricting. It was more like an invitation, Izuku realized suddenly, and flushed when he decided not to remove it. He fell in step with Kirishima, letting the other boy's voice wash over him.

"I really like the hair today, Midoriya, the ponytail's a nice touch! You plan on growin' it out?"

"O-oh! Uhm, t-t-thanks! I'm, I don't know, maybe? M-my mom isn't super strict about me g-getting my hair cut, so I guess I could t-try to grow it longer-"

The knots of tension in every joint Izuku possessed slowly loosened, the conversation easing him by a noticeable margin. He paused to spare a glance over his shoulder when they entered the school, before refocusing. He'd speak to Iida after class, when they could be alone. He'd make things right.
--
The majority of Izuku's morning classes consisted of him paying attention with half an ear to mundane subjects while simultaneously attempting to sort his crippling, volatile emotions into neat little categories that he could deal with at his own pace. He absolutely recognized that it was pretty much a futile effort, considering how strongly all his negativity affected him even back when all he had to worry about was Kacchan saying something cruel to him, but it made him feel a little bit better to at least make an attempt.

Unfortunately he didn't notice when his focus started slipping, his attention more and more consumed by his own thoughts as the day wore on. His state was only exacerbated when he stopped by the nurse's office to have his bandages replaced and his scar tissue healed, Recovery Girl's Quirk leaving him yawning. It came to a head when he wandered into the cafeteria at twenty percent awareness, and somehow managed to trip and smash his face into the linoleum tile. Luckily he'd managed to avoid both breaking his nose and exacerbating his wound, so he considered it an optimal outcome. He clung to his packed lunch while ignoring the ache in his cheekbone, and snatched up as many condiment packets from the lunch line as he was comfortable with taking.

The table he'd been invited to the day before had already been populated, Kirishima's red hair a dead giveaway and Tokoyami's dark sheen a pleasant surprise. He scurried his way over, apologizing under his breath to anyone he accidentally bumped into, and slid sheepishly into the seat next to Uraraka. "H-hey, guys!"

Uraraka and Kirishima both responded immediately, so overflowing with good vibes that his eyes watered. Even Tokoyami spoke up, a slightly stilted 'Greetings' that struck Izuku's heart, the sincere effort behind it twisting in his chest. However, the simple nod Iida graced him with threw a darker shade over his mood. He quirked his lips into as warm a smile as he could muster, attempting to help the taller boy relax. It faltered a little when he received no outward reaction, but the beginning of a conversation swept his concerns aside for the moment.

"Glad to see you made it through the lunchroom jungle, Midoriya!" Kirishima's boisterous tone rang out, Uraraka giggling into her lunch. "Uraraka and I had just coaxed Tokoyami into speaking full sentences!"

"Quite the untruth, Kirishima. As I recall, you both assaulted me with inquiries until I had no choice but to appease you." Tokoyami's tone was difficult for Izuku to read, but he couldn't really detect any actual annoyance.

Uraraka spoke up over Kirishima's easy 'Same difference', her eyes wide with excitement. "Yeah, he was telling us about his favorite bands! He's super into the ones where they have the really neat outfits- visual kei?" She questioned, receiving a brief nod from Tokoyami. "Yeah, that stuff. And um, you also said you were into.. what was it again?"

"Post industrial dark ambient soundscapes," Tokoyami intoned deeply. "To be lost amidst a conflagration of noise, the raw utterance of grinding metal and emptiness of a civilization long abandoned and be made commiserate of the ashes left behind-it creates a resonance deep within me that I cannot ignore."

A long moment of silence followed Tokoyami's impassioned words, Uraraka's lips parted in shock and Izuku's eyes blown wide, before Kirishima whooped and roughly patted Tokoyami on the back. "Holy crap man, that is so freakin' manly!" He seemed entirely oblivious to the outcome of his actions, which involved Tokoyami wheezing to recover the breath that had been knocked out of him.

"T-that really does sound cool, Tokoyami," Izuku shyly spoke up, his hands busy preparing his lunch to his preferred specifications. "M-maybe you could recommend some albums? I-I'm usually more into, u-uhm, movie soundtracks? Because a lot of the time they're really.. heroic sounding I guess? And it's pretty inspiring to.. listen..." Izuku trailed off when he realized there were three pairs of eyes staring intently at his hands. He glanced down, pausing in the tearing open and applying of his fifth hot sauce packet. "W-what's wrong?"

"Wow Izuku, that's a crazy amount of hot sauce! How can you stand to eat food like that?" Uraraka questioned loudly, her focus flickering between his worried gaze and his spice laden lunch.

"Yeah, that's kind of a lot, man. Even for me," Kirishima piped up, his expression a strange mixture of astonishment and nausea.

"O-oh, uhm, I-I just-" Izuku shrank down in his seat, half wondering if he could get away with just hiding underneath the table. "U-uhm.. I'm not really... a big eater? N-not that I don't eat, it's just-sometimes I have trouble concentrating on what I'm doing, especially eating, and I'll just.. stop halfway through because I'm thinking about something else. But if I make my food really spicy, it burns my tongue so that I don't forget to actually... y-you know. Finish eating it." He flashed a nervous smile, the expression an absolute disaster of teeth and lips.

"Hey, whatever works for you, man." Kirishima offered a reassuring smile in return, something infinitely more complete and put-together than the mess Izuku had to work with. "I gotta say though, you must have an iron stomach to-" The rest of his words were cut off by a loud, piercing note that ripped through the cafeteria, loud enough to drown out the resulting outcry of shock. It blipped out after a moment, leaving a shocked silence in its wake.

"Geez, that was so loud!" Uraraka complained, futilely rubbing at her ear. "What the heck was that, anyway?"

"...It didn't come from the loudspeakers," Iida began, speaking for the first time since Izuku had sat down. "Most likely it was the school's alarm system. Perhaps they're performing maintenance, and activated it by mistake."

"Y-yeah, probably just a malfunction," Izuku hesitantly agreed, voice soft and his thrumming desire to speak with Iida buzzing just under the surface.

"Why would they be workin' on it during school hours, though? Could'a at least cranked the volume down." Kirishima's gaze rested on Midoriya's half eaten chicken katsudon, mentally weighing the pros and cons of enduring what looked like half a liter of hot sauce.

"It most likely has to do with those soulless barbarians treading upon our gates," Tokoyami began, seemingly oblivious to both the shadowy claws reaching up from under his side of the table and Izuku's reaction to them, which consisted of him jumping so high in his seat that he banged his knees on the underside of the table. "Like vultures they circle, stalking the lame and the weak so that they might feast while the flesh is yet warm." He leveled a glare in roughly the same direction as the school's front gates, which required him to twist around in his seat. He offered no comment on the claws playing with his chopsticks.

The loudspeakers crackled to life a moment later, principal Nedzu's unflinchingly jubilant voice pouring through a moment later. ["Attention, students! It's me, your beloved principal! I just wanted to reassure you all that the noise you heard was a malfunction that resulted from routine maintenance on our security systems! Sorry about that! Now, all of you feel free to resume your lunches!"]

Izuku blinked when Tokoyami's chopsticks clattered to the table, the inky hands that had been manipulating them having vanished while he was distracted. "..I-I'm not the only one that saw that, r-right?"

"Saw what?" Tokoyami turned away from his glaring to catch sight of his misplaced utensils. "Oh yes, worry not. That was merely Dark Shadow. It is quite mischievous, when the mood strikes it. I imagine it is pent up at the moment, considering I haven't had a reason to draw forth its power yet today."

A question formed on the tip of Izuku's tongue, and he forced himself to swallow it back. He-as nice as everyone was, he couldn't reveal the extent of his Quirk to them. Not yet. Maybe not ever. But Tokoyami's words stuck with him, revolving in slow, meandering circles. If he could relieve his own Quirk, just by using it..

Kirishima mulled over the information for a moment, before a wide grin slid across his face. "Mischievous, huh? Hey Tokoyami, you think Dark Shadow would be up for helpin' with like, pranks and stuff?"

Tokoyami scoffed, folding his arms across his chest. "What a trite inquiry. I will have no part in something as juvenile as 'practical jokes'." He started when a shadowy limb emerged from the space just underneath his folded arms, the roiling darkness shifting to form a giant thumb's up. Kirishima's face brightened like the sun, and Tokoyami muttered something about 'asinine shenanigans' under his breath as Dark Shadow retreated.

Izuku hid a smile behind his palm, Uraraka giggling unashamedly beside him. The brief levity was dampened, however, by the brush of gauze against his fingers and Iida's subdued demeanor. All he had to do was wait after class, and he could make things better.
--
Izuku filed back into 1-A's classroom once lunch ended, his gaze drawn thoughtfully towards his sticker laden shoes. Some of them were peeling; he'd have to buy more to replace them. Maybe he could look into something small to make a bit of extra money, so he wouldn't feel bad about wasting his mother's money just to hide his own insecurity. He was so lost in his own slowly darkening thoughts that he didn't realize Mr. Aizawa was standing by the door until an envelope was slipped into his lax grip. He flinched in shock, head snapping up to meet his teacher's half lidded gaze.

Mr. Aizawa said nothing to him directly, only turning to stalk closer to his desk and turn his exhausted gaze on the class. "Midoriya and Ashido, you're swapping desks. Don't whine about it, because it won't change anything." He barely even waited for them to move before he continued speaking, his voice an apathetic drone. "Also, All Might couldn't make it in today, so your Hero Studies class has been cancelled. You'll get an optional study period instead." A chorus of groans rang out, and his lips pulled into a halfhearted scowl. "Don't complain to me, complain to All Might when he actually bothers to show up."

Izuku slunk across the classroom while Mr. Aizawa continued to speak, offering a weak grin and a one shouldered shrug to Ashido when he passed her. She merely wiggled her fingers in greeting, seemingly not too concerned with her new seat behind Bakugou's empty desk.

He tore his gaze away from the empty desk, focusing instead on the envelope Mr. Aizawa had slipped him. It was completely plain and a little bit crumpled, with 'Don't open until after class' marked on the front in slanted handwriting. He frowned down at it, as equally curious as to the contents as he was dreading them, but he would follow the directions given to him.

"-need to choose a class rep. I don't care who it is or how you do it, as long as it's done quick." Mr. Aizawa circled around behind his desk, the ends of his scarf trailing behind him. "And keep the noise to a minimum." He fell like a rock the moment after, disappearing underneath his desk to insulate himself from the buzz of excited chatter.

Izuku clutched the letter against his leg, thumb rubbing gently across the side of it that was unmarked. He was aching to know what was inside, a minuscule part of him bleeding delusional hope like a lesion. He squeezed his eyes shut, attempting to forcibly convince himself that it probably wasn't even anything super important. It shouldn't have caused his chest to tighten, his eyes to water, his being pulled apart into threads at the mere thought of what he hoped it might be.

Whispers of static curled around his head, breaching the blessed silence he had finally achieved. He choked down a whimper, twisting his free hand in the fabric of his pant leg. A call of his name ripped him out of his decline, eyes blinking away starbursts to focus on Iida, standing impassively in front of his desk.

"We need your vote before we can finish the election for class representative, Midoriya." Iida presented him with a sheet of paper and a pen, his gaze distant and his voice subdued. It-as much as Izuku imagined how someone could feel snubbed by the cold behavior, it merely deepened the chasm in his heart. Just-just a little longer, and he could do something.

He marked a tally next to Iida's name on the makeshift ballot, handing both it and the pen back with a taped together smile. Iida make eye contact in the brief moment the items exchanged hands, and he looked stricken before he hurried off. Probably guilt over the bandages, Iuzku surmised gloomily.

He zoned out for another few minutes, chastising himself over a half remembered thought to text his mother earlier. He desperately wanted something more tangible to bring life back into his colorless visage, but he still recognized how embarrassing it would be to ask his mother to help him paint his nails. He could always look up tutorials online, but that didn't exactly help him with acquiring the necessary materials-

"-Midoriya, pay attention!" Izuku snapped up in his seat so hard that he fell out of it, scrambling to catch himself before he smacked his face off the tile for the second time that day. He straightened to his feet when Mr. Aizawa's glare intensified, trembling under the force of it. He could see Yaoyorozu standing by the blackboard, her expression one of barely contained suffering.

"W-what's-" He froze at the sight of the blackboard itself, listing the names of every student in the class. Every name was ordered by the number of votes they had received, a chunk of them containing either one or zero votes, before he saw Yaoyorozu's name with two, and his own with four. "...T-that's-I'm h-having a nightmare, right?" His voice was faint, so wrought with tremors that it felt like his vocal cords would come loose.

"Nightmare, position of authority-they boil down to a common theme," Mr. Aizawa muttered, jerking his head in a motion that sent Izuku scrambling towards the front of the room. The majority of his classmates eyed him with mild envy or annoyance, excluding those he'd already connected with. Kirishima grinned encouragingly, flashing an incredibly unsubtle wink. "Midoriya, you're class rep. Yaoyorozu is your deputy. Your first official duty-" Mr. Aizawa paused, allowing the bell to stop ringing, "is to get out of here, class is dismissed."

Izuku bolted the moment he could, which was a few moments after over half the class had already filed out. The weight of the letter in his pocket and the responsibility suddenly hanging from his shoulders made him unsteady on his feet. But he was desperate to make it outside, to make some part of what had happened okay, to make it so that Iida could look him in the eye again.

The sight of a broad back walking swiftly down the school's main path spurned him into action, his feet acting of their own will and his voice rising in a shout. "Iida, wait!"

Chapter 14

Chapter Text

Katsuki Bakugou stomped down the sidewalk towards U.A.'s campus like a squall of rolling thunder. It was barely six in the morning and he wanted nothing more than to lock himself in his bedroom and stare at his phone. Unfortunately, the crackpot fuckhead psychiatrist his parents had forced him to see the day before, right after he was done being chewed out by Ugly Rodent, Unkempt Bastard, and All Might himself, had suggested he write an 'apology' letter to him, and leave it with his teacher to deliver. The dip shit doctor said something about how he needed to 'begin paving the way to closure for his regrets, so that he could move on to healing earlier wounds' or some other bullshit.

At least when he was outside, he couldn't think about what had happened, Katsuki reflected bitterly. Sleeping had been nearly impossible, scenes of bloody teeth and vaporized flesh and pupils like black holes flashing behind his closed eyelids. His lacking sleep only compounded his anger and frustration, and his psychiatrist's patronizing tone when they spoke still infuriated him.

Of course he fucking understood that what he did was wrong. Of course he understood the gravity of his mistake. Of course he fucking got it, of course, of course-Of course, the moment when he'd truly proved himself to be stronger than Deku would be the moment when everything came crashing down around him. It figured that his triumph over that idiot loser's secret Quirk (hidden, he'd hidden it for ten years and Katsuki was too stupid to figure it out, to realize Deku had been lying through his fucking teeth the whole time) had blown up so spectacularly in both of their faces.

His parents had done a total role reversal in the principal's office; his hothead mother had been cold and disappointed, and his normally soft spoken father had been barely able to stop raising his voice every few words. He wasn't supposed to care what they thought, but every word they spoke had served to bury him further and further in the blasted mud of his mistake. His goals had been so close to slipping away, lost forever because he was too much of a raging asshole to not fuck everything up for himself the first chance he got.

A week's suspension and mandatory anger management therapy every day was the closest thing to a lucky break he'd get, he supposed. Obviously that did nothing to repair his surely destroyed reputation at U.A. He didn't care if people hated him-but if they actively worked against him, it would be a problem. He couldn't have a bunch of self righteous bastards trying to undermine his last chance.

And then there was the giant, green eyed problem that he'd had for a decade, blown up to unreal proportions in the span of a few days. How the fuck could anyone ever expect him to look that fuck in the face after he'd blown it open (hysterical with fear and barely aware of how much force he was putting behind his Quirk) and just act normal? He'd always been careful, always been controlled, but his blunder proved how simple it was to have all that practice come undone. He'd been scared, so he lashed out. Just like he did every single goddamn time he'd ever been unsure.

It made sense, Katsuki reflected with a sour taste in his mouth, that the only people who didn't think he was stupid were the ones that saw his test scores. His fingers twitched with the urge to crumple the letter in his hand and blow it into paper scraps, but the brief satisfaction it'd provide him wouldn't be worth the hour long lecture in his next session. He snorted under his breath and refocused on getting to the shitty school in time-

When he was bowled over, another body colliding with him and sending him stumbling to the ground. "FUCK," he growled when he slammed his elbow against the hard pavement, his letter and his student I.D. spilling out of his grip. He twisted to his feet, furious gaze resting on a pair of opaque sunglasses, belonging to a man over a foot taller than him. "Watch where you're going," Katsuki snarled, forcing himself not to scream in the middle of the street.

"Hoo, sorry about that, kid! Must'a had my head in the clouds!" The man was dressed like a shitty cliche tourist, in a hideous pink-and-orange shirt covered in flowers, along with khaki shorts, sandals, and a poorly made straw hat. His Japanese was flawless, however, with no hint of an accent, so Katsuki had to assume he was just a fucking idiot that didn't know how to dress himself. The man reached down to scoop up Katsuki's letter and I.D., barely even glancing at them before he handed them over with a wide grin. "U.A., huh? You're pretty lucky, kid! Be sure to put in some great hero work for us when you graduate!" He tilted his head as if winking, the motion lost behind his sunglasses.

Snarling under his breath, Katsuki shoved his items in his baggy jeans pocket, fighting the urge to insult the man for how fucking atrocious his outfit and his shitty cheerful attitude were. "Whatever," he muttered, giving the man a wide berth (and ignoring the part of him that demanded he slam into the shoulder of someone both taller and weightier than him just to prove his worth, and he realized that it made no sense because the whole fucking crux of the issue was that he'd fallen over from colliding with the asshole but the urge was still strong) and continuing on his way.

He could hear the man walking off in the other direction, replaying the incident in his head. He half wondered if the guy was some lesser known pro hero, which would explain his stupid outfit. And.. Katsuki could've sworn he'd heard a camera shutter click shut, the noise sticking irritatingly in his head, but he dismissed it. Probably just some idiot on the other side of the street taking selfies.

Katsuki resumed thundering towards the U.A. campus, giving the brief collision no further thought.
--
"Iida, wait!" Midoriya's voice rang out with a desperate edge, the sound of it convincing Tenya Iida to halt in his hurried departure. He slowly pulled in a deep breath, holding it for several moments before calmly releasing. He waited until he could hear clomping sneakers stop just a few feet behind him before he turned around, face set in a rigid smile.

"Hello, Midoriya. Did you need something?" It hurt, it hurt to sound so neutral and impersonal and dispassionate but-if he let anything through the cracks, the whole wall would crumble down. He just needed more time to process things, but apparently the source of his troubles would have none of it.

He met Tenya's gaze head on, dull green eyes shimmering with tears. But there was no fear within them, only a deeply rooted determination. "Y-yes, I do. I.. I need to apologize to you."

Tenya's posture went stiff, and he utilized Midoriya's momentary lull to interject and hopefully give himself some breathing room. "If this is about the election for class representative, you have nothing to worry about. You won fair and square, after all. No hard feelings-"

"T-that's not what I meant, Iida! A-and I know you know that!" Tenya fell back a step, briefly shocked by the sheer volume coming from his soft spoken classmate. He opened his mouth to try and carve some other avenue- "I don't blame you, Iida. I p-promise," Midoirya continued, stonewalling any chance Tenya had of changing the topic of conversation. "I-I don't blame anyone for what happened, s-so please don't feel responsible."

"I'm afraid I'm unsure of what you mean," Tenya blurted, words barely reviewed because he knew what was coming, and he was too much of a coward to face it.

"Uraraka told me you might be feeling guilty," Midoriya murmured, tugging anxiously on his poorly knotted uniform tie. Tenya had the brief impulse to show him how to tie it properly. "And you shouldn't. Y-you did everything you could to help me, and-t-that means so much to me, y-you don't even know-"

And that was enough. The chisel of Izuku Midoriya's meek, tearful kindness fractured the flimsy wall of indifference he'd hastily propped up, and allowed everything to spill free in an instant. "But I DIDN'T do everything I could!" Tenya's voice rose until it was nearly a yell, hands stiff and curled into fists at his side. "I barely didanything!You, my classmate, were grievously injured and all I could do was just-sit there! I could barely move, because I was so frightened! Those are not the qualities a hero should possess! I was worse than ill prepared-I was completely ignorant of what to do, and that is UNACCEPTABLE!"

Tenya was only made aware of the fact that he'd been gesturing along with his outburst when his hands fell limply to his sides, his chest heaving with the emotion he'd attempted to suppress. He remembered himself the moment he refocused on the shocked expression Midoriya wore. He immediately fell into a perfect ninety degree bow, shaking with the effort to hold it. "My apologies, Midoriya. That was uncalled for."

He started at the press of a hand to his shoulder, straightening up from the bow to find Midoriya had closed the majority of the distance between them. His eyes were glossy again, tears tracking down the uninjured side of his face. "Iida... t-thank you for being o-open with me. I... I know it has to hurt, wanting to help someone and not being able to do more for them. Maybe y-you're right; maybe a pro hero w-would have known what to do. B-but you're not a pro hero yet, Iida. A-and that's okay! We're all here because we want to learn how to help, r-right?"

Tenya nodded slowly when Midoriya pinned him with a patient stare, and was rewarded with a half smile. "Then that means i-it's okay to not know what to do right away. W-we're all at U.A. to learn. B-but.. you'll never have the chance if you dwell on the fact that you didn't know already!" A moment of silence passed, Tenya tenuously mulling over his classmate's words. "..It's okay, Iida. T-the fact that you were so determined to help-t-that's what'll help you become a great hero."

Tenya studied his classmate for a long moment, his lacking height and shy demeanor suddenly coming across as something more. He had certainly pinned Midoriya as someone with a kind heart, but to have that kindness opened to him- Tenya pushed up his glasses with a hand, rubbing firmly under his eyes. "..Thank you, Midoriya. You've given me much to think about. And.. you have my sincerest remorse for how I've treated you today. You didn't deserve that coldness."

"I-it's okay," Midoriya mumbled, his smile crooked and his unadorned cheek dusted with color. "I knew you w-weren't angry with me, or anything. Especially after you helped me this morning. T-thank you s-so much, by the way!"

"Think nothing of it, my friend! After all, there was no possible way I could leave you to be harassed by those reporters!" Tenya blinked when he realized he'd unconsciously begun striking a boastful pose, clearing his throat and straightening his posture. He steadfastly overlooked Midoriya's choked back squeak of laughter. "Also.. should you require any aid with your new representational duties, I'd be more than happy to assist."

The reminder of his new position made Midoriya balk to an almost comical degree, and Tenya had the strangest urge to smile. "Y-yeah, that'd b-be super helpful. T-thanks, Iida. Y..you're a good friend." He offered a minuscule departing wave before turning to depart, leaving Tenya to stand and consider their conversation.

"I suppose you've opened an avenue I had never even considered once more, Midoriya," he stated to the empty air, expression contemplative.
--
"Welcome home, sweetheart! How was your day at school? You're back earlier than usual." Inko's voice rang cheerfully out from the kitchen, greeting Izuku with a slight echo when he stepped into the apartment. He could already smell food cooking (he was pretty sure it was udon), and the warm, homey aroma almost cleared away his lingering anxiety.

"Our last class was cancelled kinda last minute," he replied absently, before he processed her actual question. "I-it was.. interesting," he continued after a moment, slipping off his shoes and wiggling his cramped toes. "And kinda overwhelming. I-I got voted to be class representative, somehow."

"Congratulations, sweetie, that sounds wonderful! You must have made a good impression on all your classmates." The barely contained joy in his mother's tone was nearly crippling, because he could scarcely remember the last time she had sounded so pleased.

Izuku swallowed the knot of razors in his throat, carrying his shoes by the heels to his bedroom so that he could reapply his stickers. "I guess so. I-it's kinda scary, though-I have no idea what a class representative is supposed to do. Iida said he'd help me if I had any issues, at least." He nudged open the door to his room, setting his shoes inside and closing it behind him. "Honestly, Iida seems like a much better suited candidate anyway. I'm sure he'd do a much better job-"

Izuku paused halfway down the hall, locking eyes with his mother from around the kitchen corner. She had that sad smile again, the one he was seeing more and more of. "I think you'll make a wonderful class representative, sweetie. You got voted in for a reason, didn't you?"

"Y..yeah. I-I'll just have to do my best," he mumbled to appease his mother, only half believing his own words. "Oh, uhm, my-the sessions with Ms. Atsuko start on Monday, so-I'll be getting home an hour later than usual."

Inko flashed him a thumbs up, ducking back into the kitchen to attend to something bubbling noisily. "I'm really glad you'll finally have someone to talk to, sweetie. I just wish.." Izuku could feel her sigh in his bones, soft and dark and littered with holes. "Either way, I'm hoping it can help you, Izuku. I'm sure you know that, as your mother, you can tell me anything, and I'll love you no matter what. But I understand how hard it can be to share certain things, even with people who care."

"I-I'm sorry," Izuku whispered, a thread of noise that wound through his teeth and hung in the air. And there were so many other things he could have said, so many lies he could have unraveled, so many wrongs he could have righted in a single moment. But his fear was all powerful, a toxic miasma that shadowed his limbs and plagued every moment of his consciousness. And so all he could do was walk into the kitchen to hug his mother, and offer a smile pulled together by fraying wires. "Y-you meet with your book club tomorrow, right? What were you guys reading, again?"

And it was fear, he imagined, that allowed him to carry on. It was his fear that pulled him through another night of falsities. And it was fear that forced him to place the unopened letter on his desk, its crisp edges burned into his vision until consciousness left him.

Chapter 15

Chapter Text

Part of Izuku dearly wished that weekends would be completely abolished and done away with, just so that he wouldn't have the time to prolong his inevitable suffering. Saturday and Sunday had clung to the calendar with strings of adhesive, the slow pace of the days allowing him the perfect opportunity to overthink everything. He'd only been at U.A. for three days, but life felt strange and incomplete when he was away from it. It was such a departure from his previous quiet misery, a place of noise and color and life.

He'd done everything he could to reconstruct that departure, during the weekend. He spent nearly every waking hour outdoors, walking through parks and visiting his tiny, secluded beach. He ran errands for his mother, and tagged along with any errands she normally ran by herself. Izuku was too frightened to stay in his room for anything other than sleep, too afraid of the chance that his torment would seep through the walls and drown him when he'd only just tasted fresh air. The letter taunted him every time he walked past it, and he knew that if he tried to shove it out of sight, the temptation would be too powerful for him to resist.

Izuku couldn't avoid it forever, of course. If the contents were what he imagined (and he was at least ninety eight percent certain they were) then he'd be making his own promises meaningless, and his inaction would only further serve to hurt someone he cared about. He just-needed to think. He just needed to wait until the right moment. He had to be prepared to see what lie in wait.

He clung to that line of thinking as the weekend wore on, broken up only by his visits to U.A.'s campus to have Recovery Girl check up on his scar. The tiniest of sensations returned with each healing session, and he'd somehow managed to avoid seeing his scar tissue in any of the myriad of reflective surfaces in the nurse's office. That could wait too. It could wait until he was ready.

Though it was possible that all his quickly compounding fears had the potential to be shoved aside until he was emotionally stable enough to deal with them, the lengths he would have to go through to make that happen were entirely unrealistic. Without the luxury of infinite time to quantify and eliminate his problems, Izuku was left with the rest of Sunday evening to muster up the courage to remove his final set of bandages, and read the letter on his desk.

But instead of doing those things, Izuku spent the evening helping his mother cook dinner, and having her assist him with painting his nails in return. Though he'd been sufficiently mortified upon requesting it, his mother had accepted with little fuss, perfectly pleased to have an excuse to spend more time with him.

And that was how Izuku ended his weekend, swathed in the stink of nail polish and quickly mounting dread.
--
Izuku Midoriya woke with a start, exhaustion clinging to him like iron chains. He glanced quickly around his bedroom with unfocused eyes, different parts of his brain at uneven levels of awareness. He gulped down a lungful of air, his throat dry and stinging with thirst. His need to use the bathroom became apparent the moment he shifted his legs under his covers, a whine of urgency slipping out. He shimmied out from under his bed covers, shivering as cold air nipped at the flesh exposed by his flimsy pajamas.

He stumbled out of his bedroom, his upper body twisting to hold the All Might nameplate still so that it didn't bang against the door. One hand reached up to scrub at his eyes, half numbed by pins and needles from sleeping in an odd position. He shook out his wrist on his way into the bathroom, flicking on the secondary light over the shower so that the main ones didn't blind him.

He relieved himself while only paying half attention, mind caught in cobwebs of fading dreams. Izuku had never really been much of a dreamer-anything he remembered ended up murky and indistinct once he made it further into the day. Ironically, he'd never had a problem with nightmares, either. He'd half rationalized it by figuring his Quirk's drawing forth of his fear took such a toll on him during his waking hours that his brain didn't have enough left to torment him when he was unconscious. A small blessing, Izuku mused, but he'd take what he could get.

He fumbled to work the sink's faucet after flushing, washing his hands for longer than was absolutely necessary. He ducked down and awkwardly craned his neck to catch a few mouthfuls of water, just to relieve the uncomfortable ache in his throat. The ends of a few curls ended up moist, but he just flipped them out of the way and silently regarded himself in the mirror. The bandage over his right cheek was a sterile, pristine white, a beacon of light on his gloomy visage.

Recovery Girl had told him that he didn't need it anymore, considering he was finally as healed as he was going to be. It was-he couldn't bother her for more, just because he was insecure. It'd be rude. He steadfastly picked at the edges of medical tape with trembling fingers, his breath tightening into a bottleneck of anxiety. He pressed his tongue along the inside of his cheek, nerves coming to life under the soft pressure. It was okay, he reminded himself hysterically, his nerves were fine on the inside, it didn't matter if they worked on the outside or not. It was only a small part of his face, it was still him, he'd still be-he wouldn't look like a monster. The quiet boy from his class with multicolored hair-he had facial scars, and nobody made fun of him, or pointed them out. It'd be okay, he'd be okay, everything would be-

Izuku ripped the last of the tape free, unveiling the flesh that had been hidden from him. He slapped a hand over his mouth to stifle a loud sob, his other hand digging into the counter top so hard that his fingers were aching. It was-larger than he'd hoped. A stretch of ragged skin, discolored a dull, sickening purple-red that began just a finger's width above the corner of his lips, flared out to encompass the majority of his cheekbone. It encroached on his eye socket as well, on the border of where the bone structure became concave under his lower lid. It faded to a patchwork of smaller blotches near the far right of his jaw, a fainter red than the dark, angry mark that had become the entire focus of his face.

Izuku stared numbly into the mirror, his wide eyes blank and unblinking. It was a strange dissonance from the pathetic noises escaping his throat, chest shuddering and trembling fingers muffling his horror. It was worse, so much worse than he'd hoped it would be. He removed his aching hand from the counter, fingers shaking so badly he was sure they'd just crumble, and pressed the pads of them to his scar. He couldn't feel anything in the side of his face, only the pressure feedback from inside his cheek. The skin itself was textured, reminding him more of melted candle wax and weather worn bricks than his own face.

If only he did have nightmares instead. If only Izuku could trade everything for a sleep that would never give him peace, would never let him feel refreshed and energized. Because at least nightmares weren't real. At least they couldn't haunt him under his skin and in his bones, a rattling terror that had physical form. His fear would live in him forever, would mark his torso with rigid red lines and disfigure his face with his own mistakes.

He staggered out of the bathroom on uncooperative legs, fumbling to shut the door behind him. He barely had the focus to open his own bedroom door, the handle slick and icy against his wire frame digits. It was only once he'd somehow locked the door behind him that he remembered the letter on his desk, crisp white surface distinct against his clutter. It'd be better to just get everything over with at once, right? It'd be like ripping off a bandage.

A hysterical laugh pulled itself from Izuku's throat, echoing back at him as the cry of a wounded animal. He tore apart the exterior envelope, scraps left in a pile on his desk. It was hard to see through his tears, fingers slipping in their search for an edge of the folded paper he'd ripped free. He blinked away saline watercolors, pupils scanning the surface of the paper. It was written in massive, angry letters, pressed so hard into the page that the graphite had smudged in dark streaks. It wasn't signed, but it didn't need to be. There was no mistaking who had written it.

'IM SORRY. YOU SHOULDNT FORGIVE ME.'

And that was enough. Izuku stared at furiously penned characters until his tears dotted the page, wet splotches making the material flimsy and transparent. He felt like he'd been transported to the bottom of the ocean, the weight of trillions of tons of water collapsing him inward with titanic force. It was like he'd been unfolded, his entire body carefully pulled apart at the seams and spread along until all his insides were showing. It was a scorching volcano, molten rock liquefying him until he was nothing but ashes on the wind-it was an injection of glass dust, splitting apart his veins and drowning him in blood from the inside out-it was-it was-

It was too much. Ugly, misshapen sobs ripped out of Izuku's chest, malformed specters birthed from devastation. He collapsed back onto his bed, curling futilely in his sheets and hiding his face in his pillow. It was enough to muffle his despair, his remorse, his agony. It was all just too much, the endless downpour that drenched him with his own tears. All he wanted was his mother, to hold him and reassure him. All he wanted were his friends, to cheer him up and support him. All he wanted was to be strong, stronger than his Living Nightmare.

But Izuku was alone in the dark. And so he curled in his bedding, pillowcase dampened by tears, and closed his eyes until the shadows closed around him.
--
Izuku cracked open his eyes at the sound of his phone's alarm, a snippet of the opening theme to an All Might TV series that had only managed two seasons before being cancelled. From what he recalled, the main reason behind the cancellation was the fact that one of All Might's fights (versus Killamari, a villain that could sprout giant tentacles) had destroyed the studio. Also it hadn't been very well written, and the guy playing All Might had never managed to properly emulate the hero's bangs. Izuku had watched his DVD of it so many times that the disc suffered laser burn.

Izuku rolled bonelessly onto his side, watching with a fractured gaze as his phone's screen lit up his nightstand, as well as the ceiling above it. It was plugged in, which meant the alarm would continue indefinitely if he didn't stop it. After half a minute of contemplative silence, he managed to free an arm from where it had been half twisted under his chest and slapped his phone screen, the alarm silencing. The deafening quiet that followed was scarcely better.

He rolled out of bed in stiff, halfhearted movements, his limbs fully cooperative but his will running on fumes. He peeled off his pajamas with one hand, throwing them into his hamper and missing by several feet. Izuku would have just left them there, but he knew his mother liked to tidy up his room when he wasn't home. He scooped them off the floor with the end of his foot, and flicked them halfway into the hamper. Good enough.

Izuku pulled on his school uniform at one fifth his normal speed, eyes drifting to rest on Kacchan's letter every few moments. It was an aberration among the organized clutter of his desk space, impossible to ignore and impossible to forget. He tore his gaze away in favor of staring down at his tie, fingers twisting together in his failed effort to tie it. He was even worse at it than usual, frustration welling in the empty chest cavity he'd woken up with. He eventually just left it untied around his neck, trying to force back the prickle of frustrated tears. If he cried again, it'd all just come pouring out at once.

He had to push the chunks together, had to stop himself from falling apart. Pain was temporary; it'd pass eventually, and leave him functional again. But his fear was forever, twisting and manipulating him into giving his pain more time to fester. Izuku wondered what was worse: being ignorant of the reasons for his illogical and erratic emotional state, or being completely aware and unable to do anything about it. Sometimes he wished he didn't know better. Likely, the grass just looked greener.

Izuku shuffled quietly into the bathroom, hearing the telltale audio cues that meant his mother was awake and likely cooking breakfast. He locked the door behind him with a soft 'click', making a rote effort to complete his morning routine. He brushed his teeth with the bare minimum effort, and had to retrieve his toothbrush after putting it away because he'd forgotten to rinse it off. He tugged futilely at his wild curls with a hairbrush, prickles of pain emanating from his scalp with each inelegant motion. His fingers shook when he put in his clips, uneven and out of order.

And the entire time, all he could see was the scar on his face. It made the rest of him look drained, skin pale and sickly around the nauseating red disfigurement. He looked like something that was ready to be buried. He ran the water in the sink until it was piping hot, splashing handfuls on himself to try and give the illusion of life. The end result just made him look like he'd spent too long in a hot shower.

The sound of knuckles on wood dragged him partially from his daze, his mother's voice ringing out from behind the door. "Izuku, breakfast is ready! You should come eat soon, so you won't be late!"

"I-I'll be out in a second," Izuku called back, his voice cracking halfway through the first word. He made one last desperate effort to knot his tie, hands too unsteady to do anything useful with. It ended up looking even worse than usual, but at least it wasn't completely loose. He fumbled with the lock on the bathroom door, spilling out into the hallway and nearly tripping over his own feet on his way to the kitchen.

"Good morning, sweetie!" His mother chimed, her back still turned as she dished out breakfast. "I sent in your field trip permission slip for the year, so don't worry about having to get anything signed last minute. I also talked to Ms. Atsuko on the phone, to confirm your sessions. She seems very sweet, I'm sure you'll have an easy time talking-"

She paused the moment Izuku was within her field of view, silent for only a moment. Her lack of reaction was easily readable, her tiny micro adjustments to relax her posture and the brief shimmer in her eyes blaring at Izuku like neon signs. "Oh, Izuku, honey, what did you do with your hair? You usually make it look so neat in the morning." She turned to set down her armful of breakfast dishes, bustling over to usher Izuku into his seat. "You eat breakfast, and I'll grab a brush. We've gotta make sure you look handsome for all your friends, right?" She patted his cheek, unflinching when she came in contact with molted scar tissue, and turned to go retrieve a hairbrush.

Izuku stared after his mother, his heart thumping a bittersweet rhythm. A few tears escaped his notice, slipping down his face and dripping onto the table top. The smile on his face grew without his say so, twitching with sincerity and adoration. "T-thank you, mom," he whispered, something small and warm buzzing in the inky depths within his chest.

Chapter 16

Chapter Text

Izuku breathed a soft sigh into the fabric of his pink lemonade scarf, having knotted it around to cover as much of his face as possible. It wasn't really cold enough to warrant wearing a scarf, and it did little to actually conceal the scar that took up a quarter of his face, but it helped in other, smaller ways. The scent of laundry detergent and dryer sheets, the lingering warmth from his own body heat, and the comfortable weight around his neck all gave him grounding points to hold onto.

His newly painted nails served a similar purpose, constantly catching his eye with bursts of color whenever he could see them. He'd been adamant in wanting to paint every single one a different color, despite his mother's gentle suggestions that he start out with something more subtle. Considering it was extremely unlikely that he could get away with just painting every inch of himself in dazzling colors, his nails would have to suffice.

The train was practically empty when he boarded, leaving him free to huddle in a corner with his backpack on his lap and his scarf pulled up over his nose. He took deep, steady breaths, his phone loaded up with pictures of small animals that he occasionally scrolled through. It'd-he'd be okay, Izuku attempted to convince himself. He couldn't hear the static over the sound of locomotion, and diverting his attention to his phone between breathing exercises helped him feel a little more aware. He wouldn't lose himself. He wouldn't fall apart. Living Nightmare wouldn't surface to feed from his terror.

Hissing brakes caught his attention, and Izuku reluctantly unraveled from his flimsy cocoon to exit the train station and continue on to U.A. He started at the sight of figures lingering near the exit, pulling his scarf over the bottom of his face and shrinking into himself. He attempted to hurry past them, only to be accosted on either side by fiery red hair and compassionate brown eyes.

"Heeey Izuku!" Uraraka greeted him, her voice so cheerful that it made Izuku dizzy. He yelped when an arm was thrown around his shoulders, Kirishima's sharp grin on full display.

"'Sup Midoriya, how ya been?" Izuku glanced frantically between the two of them, attempting to process the fact that not only had they known the train station he'd be coming from, but had also decided to wait for him there.

"Ugh, I hope your weekend was more exciting than mine," Uraraka complained lightheartedly, her smile lighting up her whole face and Izuku was so confused-

"I know, right? Hard to be excited about hangin' at the arcade and doing chores after a few days at U.A." Kirishima's voice washed over him like liquid cashmere, so warm and overwhelming that Izuku was forgetting how to breathe.

"Exactly! It's just a whole new level of excitement! Everything else just kinda got knocked down a peg, y'know?" Izuku bit down on a shriek because he was ninety nine percent sure that Uraraka's hand had just bumped into his own, she was so close and he only just realized they were moving towards the school, leaving the safety of the train station behind them.

"G-guys?" Izuku piped up hesitantly, wilting when Uraraka and Kirishima ceased their conversation to fix him with curious looks. "I-I.. sorry to interrupt, I just- why were you guys w-waiting for me?" A moment of silence followed, where he could feel them exchange a meaningful look.

Uraraka was the first to speak, her smile shut away in favor of a concerned frown. "Well, Kirishima and I were talking after class on Friday, and we kiiiinda.. were worried about you. So we, maybe might have.. exchanged numbers and made plans over the weekend to make sure you'd be alright?"

"I really hope you don't think we're tryin' to step on your toes, or anything," Kirishima continued, the bombast in his voice lowered down to a more tolerable level. "It's just that the kinda stuff that happened on Thursday.. it's not the easiest thing to bounce back from. So we're just here to make sure everything is cool. And if it's not.. we're totally willing to help out with whatever." Uraraka nodded in firm agreement, her face set with determination.

Izuku's heart wasn't sure whether it should began thundering or fluttering, caught in a strange series of palpitations that cut his breath short. His first impulse was to craft some sort of bland placation, to slap on a smile and brush past everything. But the burning weight in his cheek and the constant loop of Kacchan's apology were too heavy. It was all too much, he couldn't carry it by himself anymore.

For a single moment he managed to grasp a handful of bravery, tears staining his vision and chest hitching with the beginnings of sobs. "I-I'm not o-o-okay," he croaked, each word infused with leaden fear, so heavy he was sure they'd crack the pavement. But the moment they left his mouth, their weight became a little more manageable. A few of the crystallized pockets of agony hidden in his flesh bloomed outwards, spurting in searing gushes that scorched his insides. They were broken, no longer present to lock him into numb agony. And it hurt so much, so much that he wanted to scream.

But he wasn't alone. The arm around his shoulders tightened reassuringly, and a second, slimmer pair rested firm around his torso. He was lost in a sea of sensation, warm bodies and gentle voices and light. It was nearly blinding, the heroic glow that he had sought with so much bitter, pleading envy. And it was there with him, an encompassing force that left him boneless.

Izuku collapsed into Uraraka's embrace, sobbing freely and openly. Tears dotted the fabric of his scarf, the garment slipping to reveal patches of the horrible mark on his face. He was unaware of the genuine worry in Kirishima's eyes, reflected back at him by Uraraka. He just-he just needed a moment. Just one moment to regain his composure. He managed to scrape together enough tact to stand under his own power, instead of leaning most of his weight on Uraraka. The top of his scarf was wet with tears, which he decided was a better place for them than Uraraka's uniform.

Izuku cleared his throat of gunk, his voice coming out hoarse and unsteady. "I-I'm sorry, I-I didn't m-mean to-"

"You don't need to be sorry, Izuku! It's okay to cry, don't apologize!" Uraraka boldly rested her hands on his cheeks, showing no hesitation in touching the abhorrent thing on his face. The look in her eyes was nothing less than empathy, strings of concern wrapped around wires of pain.

Izuku shook his head weakly in her grasp, barely able to speak past tearful hiccups and the threat of frame wracking sobs. "I-it isn't o-okay! It m-means I'm still n-not st-strong enough!"

"That's not true," Kirishima proclaimed, his voice lined with an intense seriousness that made Izuku shudder, "There's nothing stronger or more manly than being able to reach out when you need help. Nobody can do everything alone. It takes a heck of a lot of strength to admit that."

Izuku sniffled, trying to drag back the mess of fluids he'd spilled everywhere. He tried to soak in his friends' reassurance, tried to let it be enough to soothe him- "I ju-just don't k-know what to d-do anymore. I'm-I'm so scared all the ti-time, but I have t-to be strong, so I c-can make sure n-nobody else has to be a-afraid like me!"

"And you can do that, Izuku," Uraraka replied fiercely, tears budding in the corners of her eyes."But you need to make sure you're okay, first." She made brief eye contact with Kirishima, who gazed worriedly back at her. "I think maybe we should wait with you to catch another train, and walk you home. One absence won't be a big deal."

"I-I can't," Izuku denied stubbornly, scrubbing at his face with the heel of his hand. "I-I've got a therapy appointment, I-I can't miss it. "

Uraraka bit her lip, visibly unsure if she should let Izuku go to class when he was so out of sorts, and looked to Kirishima for some indication of what to do. He merely shrugged one shoulder, a helpless look on his face. "..Alright. But only because of your appointment! And after school, we can all meet up and go somewhere relaxing. Okay?" She pressed his cheeks together until he let out a squished sounding affirmation. She released her grip, expression soft, and resumed her position by his side.

Izuku flushed when she firmly laced her fingers with his own, Kirishima's arm remaining a steady weight around his shoulders. He was silent for a few minutes as they walked, half listening to their quiet chatter. When he did speak up, his voice was soft and scratchy, but contained no threat of further upset. "..I-I'm sorry f-for dumping all of this on you guys. Y-you've only known me a few days, a-and I'm already a mess."

"Don't worry about it, Izuku," Uraraka soothed, squeezing his fingers. "We wouldn't be here if we didn't care, alright? We want to help you, because you're our friend."

"I-It just feels like I'm t-taking advantage of you," Izuku argued back weakly, more to express his disbelief than any actual denial of her words.

Kirishima snorted, and glanced at Izuku with a teasing grin. "Bro, no offense, but I don't think you could take advantage of a two-for-one coupon, let alone other people."

Izuku opened his mouth to retort, only to pause and slowly close it. He flushed and looked in the other direction, embarrassment clear in his tone. "..It feels like stealing."

He flushed up to the tips of his ears when laughter rang out on either side of him, unable to bite down on an irrepressible smile. Laughter was so scarce in his life, a grand luxury that he could only occasionally catch glimpses of. To be able to laugh was a joy, something that made his insides sing sweet notes around the howling fear. To incite that laughter in others, to bring them the same joy he sought so strongly.. It was more like a blessing.
--
Izuku's morning classes passed about as smoothly as he could have hoped, considering all the factors that were perfectly capable of ruining his day. He endured a few brief stares from his classmates when they first saw his scar, but nobody made any direct mention of it. Iida and Tokoyami had asked after his well-being, and seemed at least placated when he told them everything was alright. Iida had seemed closer to 'normal' as well, his demeanor loud and rigid. He'd insisted on tying Izuku's tie for him, coming up with some sort of speech on the spot about the importance of wearing his uniform and how it tied into his future chances of being a professional hero. Izuku had been just as impressed as he was daunted.

Later on, Izuku had nearly fallen over himself in shock when he'd received other mentions of concern, from classmates he hadn't had much chance of speaking with. He had at least half a dozen two sentence conversations where he confirmed that he was alright, each one leaving him dazed and oddly pleased.

Ashido had practically cornered him at his desk before second period, her queries as loud as they were sincere. She'd looked almost a breath away from mentioning his scar outright when he kept deflecting, but an interruption from Kaminari (who had hair that Izuku kind of wanted to marvel over) had stopped her short.

Another girl he'd spoken little with, Asui, had asked him in very frank terms if he was recovered enough to be attending school again. Caught off guard by her straightforward demeanor, he'd fumbled with his words before somehow managing to convey that he was as recovered as he could be. She'd seemed pleased enough with that answer (at least he thought she was-her expression was nearly impossible to read) and had let him be afterwards.

Increasingly overwhelmed by the kindness and compassion of his classmates, Izuku had just managed to slip out of class with the excuse of having to use the bathroom. He dragged himself down the hallway, feeling uncomfortably exposed without his scarf. He stared down at the tips of his shoes, cheap stickers glittering back at him with every step. He vaguely wondered if he could get away with wearing colorful socks too, or if that would go into 'uniform violation' territory.

His musings were cut short when he heard another set of footsteps, head snapping up to catch sight of Toshinori. His teacher had apparently seen him at the same moment, because there was a beat where they both simply stared at one another.

"Oh hey, Midoriya. What're you doing out of class?" Toshinori sounded mildly surprised, but not reproachful like Izuku had expected.

"I-I was-just.. g-going to the bathroom," he stuttered, feeling like he was lying even though it technically was where he was going.

"Hm. Well, I hate to take your time up, but.. d'you think we could have a short talk in the teacher's lounge?" Toshinori looked... almost ashamed, though Izuku couldn't possibly figure out why. "It'll just take a minute."

"Y..yeah, sure. O-okay." Izuku trailed after the pro hero, curiosity welling up. What did All Might need to talk to him about? He desperately hoped it wasn't more talk about his Quirk; he was only just starting to feel normal after his awful weekend.

Toshinori led him down the hall for a few minutes, an awkward silence hanging in the air around them before his teacher spoke up. "Sorry about not bein' here on Friday; I got caught up in a bunch of talk show nonsense."

"Y-you.. i-it's okay, you must be r-really busy, being the world's g-greatest hero and everything. I j-just hope you didn't get in trouble for it." Izuku spoke slowly and hesitantly, trying to figure out exactly what kind of conversation they were supposed to be having.

"Not quite as busy as I used to be, but the media sure love to jerk me around." Toshinori paused to open the unassuming door to the unoccupied teacher's lounge, furnished by comfortable couches and a kitchenette containing everything an overworked teacher could need. Izuku slipped in behind him, quietly closing the door on his way in.

"S-so... what did you need to t-talk to me about, Mr. All Might?" Izuku rubbed the hem of his uniform jacket between his fingers, his nerves slowly ramping up into outright anxiety.

"Don't worry, you're not in trouble," Toshinori began, his tone low and calm. A bit of tension left Izuku's hunched shoulders, and that was apparently the cue his teacher was waiting for. "I'm.. I wanted to apologize to you, young Midoriya. Your injury at the hands of Katsuki Bakugou is my fault, and my responsibility. I was too short sighted to realize his animosity towards you ran so deeply, and allowed things to proceed well beyond when I should have intervened. You have my sincerest apologies."

Izuku was struck with a dark pulse of deja-vu when All Might bowed to him, blond hair hanging limp and his frame shaking from holding the position. He had brief flashes of a dark tunnel, stinking of sewage and stomach fluid and the bone powdering fear he had felt. "I-it-it's okay, sir, y-you don't have to a-ap-"

"Please, young Midoriya. Don't make excuses for me," Toshinori interrupted, all his casual friendliness and boisterous outgoing nature replaced by a solemn melancholy. "As your teacher, it's my explicit duty to watch out for you, and I failed to do so. You do not deserve what happened to you. I don't know if I can ever make it up to you, but I promise to do better. I promise to be the teacher you deserve, to give you an environment where you can learn, and prosper, and feel safe."

Izuku covered his mouth with trembling hands, tears streaming down his face and running down his fingers. His unshakable belief that it was his fault, that everything was his fault, shuddered and groaned as the foundations crumbled, just a little. He swallowed down a sob, strained noises slipping through as his shoulders heaved and buckled.

He didn't know how to handle it-so much kindness, so much understanding, from everyone around him. It was so much, so much, so overwhelming that he could barely stay standing. He didn't even flinch when a warm hand rested on his shoulder, the grip firm and reassuring. His mouth moved of its own will, words slipping through the widening cracks in his fingers in a mantra that could only brush the surface of his gratitude.

"Thank you thank you thank you thank you-"

Chapter 17

Chapter Text

After several long minutes where Izuku made a concerted effort to both pull himself back together and assure All Might that he really was fine he'd just been overwhelmed and he really should get back to class, he finally managed to extract himself from the teacher's lounge and recuperate in the bathroom. He'd only been able to leave after accepting the pack of tissues All Might had insisted he take, and he found himself grateful that the teacher hadn't budged on the issue.

He gently dabbed at his tear streaked face with a lavender scented tissue, grimacing at himself in the mirror. The fluorescent lighting washed him out horrifically, and made his scar look even more gruesome. He wished he could just scrub it right off his face, but that unfortunately wasn't an option. He thought back to what Recovery Girl had told him about facial reconstructive surgery, running a fingertip around the edges of the scar.

He'd been a bit too hysterical in recent days to actually look up information about reconstructive surgery, but it sounded like the sort of thing that would take a lot of time to recover from. He didn't want to inadvertently stumble into a scenario where he had to miss weeks, or even months of school because of medical reasons. And.. it didn't physically hurt him, or anything. His face was technically fully healed, except for the missing nerves, and he was fairly certain there was no surgery that could fix that.

He'd look into it further when the school year ended, he decided tentatively. He had to get stronger, and being so vain that a (hideous gruesome grotesque) little scar on his face could hold him back meant he wasn't strong enough.

Held in one piece by a filmy layer of resolve, Izuku forced himself to leave the quiet safety of the bathroom and return to class.
--
The rest of the day passed by peacefully enough that Izuku allowed himself to relax by the smallest of margins. Nothing terrible had happened, nobody had mocked him for his scar, and there had been no unforeseen disasters. The most exciting (and daunting) incident merely involved trading numbers with his friends, and making plans to meet up when he was out of his therapy appointment.

The idea of the appointment itself was also a little nerve wracking, but Izuku firmly repeated to himself that it was meant to help him, and nobody was forcing him. If it didn't work out, he could make the issue known with Mr. Aizawa, and he could let his mother know to find him another psychiatrist.

The logic he applied to the situation did little to appease his trembling hands, however, as he ventured to a part of the school he hadn't yet been in. U.A.'s main building was larger than any high school he'd ever seen, but it wasn't quite as labyrinthine as he'd feared. He checked the slightly creased school map in his hands again, trying to pinpoint exactly which office he was supposed to be going to.

He was so absorbed in the thoughts muttered under his breath that he didn't even acknowledge the voice calling his name, until it was accompanied by a hand locking around his wrist. Izuku yelped and whirled around, heart squeezing into his esophagus when he locked eyes with the hetero-chromatic Todoroki.

He felt it flutter in his throat as he was pinned by his classmate's intense gaze, the fingers around his wrist solid as iron. After a few moments of silence he shakily raised his other hand in greeting, attempting to find his voice in the meantime. "H-h-hey, Todoroki... d-did you need... s-something?"

Izuku forced back a flinch when Todoroki released the grip on his wrist, instead digging around in his pocket for something. He quickly produced a piece of paper, shoving it out towards Izuku in a motion so abrupt that he really did flinch. He waited a beat before forcing his will on muscles tensed for a blow, meekly accepting the paper. A list was written on it in impeccable handwriting, and he glanced away from it to meet Todoroki's gaze in confusion.

"It's a list of ointments. They should help reduce scar tissue." Todoroki's voice was flat and scratchy, lacking even the disinterest and annoyance that sometimes colored Mr. Aizawa's tone. Izuku was entirely unable to read into it, could parse nothing from the other boy's stone faced expression.

Izuku was shocked into motion when Todoroki just.. turned around to walk away, clearly not intending to wait around for a response. Izuku reached out as if to grab for the other boy's hand, only to stop himself at the last second. Those were the first words Todoroki had ever even spoken to him; it wouldn't be wise to push boundaries already. "T-thank you," he settled with instead, voice soft and still containing faint traces of confusion. Todoroki slowed for half a step before he continued on, showing no other reaction.

Izuku watched him leave for a few beats before a thought suddenly occurred to him. He stepped forward again without thinking about it, voice raising. "H-hey, uhm, Todoroki!" He shrank a little when his classmate halted, glancing at him over his shoulder. "U-Uhm.. I h-have an appointment to get to, b-but after that my friends and I a-are going to hang out. D-do.. y-you could join us, if you want!"

"I have prior engagements," Todoroki responded so quickly that Izuku didn't even have the chance to look for a flicker in his face. "It's nothing against you. I just can't miss it."

"N-no, that's okay, I-I totally understand! M-maybe another time, then?" Izuku forced his face into a hopeful smile, more of a rough sketch than a natural expression. He wilted when Todoroki turned back around, disappearing around the next corner after a few steps. "T-that was weird," Izuku muttered a few moments later, hesitantly turning to walk the other way. "I wonder if h-he's always so hard to read. D-does he not like me? Did I annoy him without even realizing? It seems unlikely but sometimes it's so difficult to judge exactly what other people are thinking and Todoroki really does have an amazing poker face I wonder if he practices it he seems like the kind of guy to work hard at everything he does and he must be really talented if he made it into school on recommendation maybe he just has a hard time talking to other people if so then that probably took a lot of effort for him to do maybe I should get him something to express my gratitude I hope that wouldn't seem weird-"

Izuku bit down on a squeak when the door he'd been muttering in front of swung inward, both hands flying up to clasp over his mouth. A woman peered out at him, expression momentarily curious before it transitioned into pleasant surprise. "Oh, Izuku Midoriya! You're right on time for the appointment. Please, come inside."

Izuku faltered for a moment before hastily stepping through the door, and into a comfortably decorated office. He stood awkwardly in the middle of the room while the woman (whom he was fairly certain was Ms. Atsuko) busied herself with a filing cabinet. He glanced around, taking in the earthy decor and the numerous abstract paintings framed on the walls alongside a number of degrees. There was a desk in the far corner, tucked beside the filing cabinet, and a pair of bookshelves on the opposite wall. Directly behind him was a dark, plush couch covered in throw pillows, and in front of him was a leather recliner. "Please take a seat, Mr. Midoriya. I'll be with you in just a moment."

Izuku hesitantly lowered himself to sit on the couch, sighing as he sunk into the cushions. He slid a throw pillow onto his lap, running his fingers along the textured edges. "U-uhm... Ms. Atsuko?" His voice trembled with nerves, and he received a noise of affirmation from the woman digging files out of her cabinet. "S-sorry, I j-just.. I w-wasn't sure if I'd w-walked into the wrong office or not. I-I mean obviously I d-didn't, because y-you mentioned my name and appointment directly so it'd be extremely unlikely that I somehow wandered into an appointment I hadn't even known about that was going on at the same time, I just-wanted to be, u-uhm.. sure."

Ms. Atsuko turned towards him, a mostly empty manila file in one hand and a small stack of papers in the other. Izuku's pupils twitched over her face, reading over her almost sleepy friendliness and soft features. Her hair was wine red, and just long enough to pull into a small bun. She was dressed.. about how he expected a female psychiatrist to dress, which involved more office attire than the hero uniforms most of the U.A. staff wore.

She offered him a calm smile, settling into the armchair and spreading the file across her legs. "I can assure you that you're in the correct place, Mr. Midoriya, and you arrived exactly on time." She shuffled the papers in her hand, sorting them in a particular order. "How was your day, Mr. Midoriya?" She asked offhandedly.

"V-very overwhelming, actually. I'm having a really hard time coming to terms with receiving so much positive attention after years of basically being ignored and ridiculed by everyone but my mom." Izuku was silent for a few beats, where he almost serenely ran his fingers over the pillow in his lap, before suddenly jumping in shock and slapping his hands over his mouth. "O-oh my god why did I say that-"

Ms. Atsuko looked up from her papers, that same calm smile firmly set on her face. "Quite an opening answer. My Quirk, Mr. Midoriya, is called Tell All. It is an empathy Quirk, which, in basic terms, makes people tell the truth. However, in reality, it only works on those who wish to tell the truth. I begin every session with a new patient the same way I have with you; I ask a direct question, and then nature of their answer allows me to get an idea of their cooperativeness. Your answer is very telling, Mr. Midoriya, because it lets me know that you are someone who is open to receiving help, even for issues they may feel uncomfortable with bringing up. However, please don't think you are obligated to continue seeing me, if the particulars of my Quirk make you uncomfortable."

Izuku stared straight forward with wide eyes, taking a moment to process the bulk of information that had just been dumped on him. He slowly lowered his hands from his mouth, which twisted in an embarrassed smile. "N-no, I uhm.. y-your Quirk sounds really interesting, Ms. Astuko. I can understand why it would be useful.. i-in a psychiatric setting, at least. Have-d-did you ever do.. professional hero work?"

"For a brief time, yes," she replied in a lax tone. "I was a sidekick for.. maybe two and a half years, at a fair sized agency. My hero name was 'Open Heart', and my talents were used primarily for interrogations. With enough focus, my Quirk is capable of forcing honesty out of those that are unwilling to provide it. However, eventually my own sense of morals and ethics got the better of me, and I retired in favor of additional schooling." Izuku barely refrained from jumping when he realized Ms. Atsuko was reading his expression as well. "Do you want to be a hero, Mr. Midoriya?"

"M-more than anything in the world," he answered immediately, almost compelled to spill his feelings. "That's pretty much my entire goal in life. I want to help others, to save them from danger and stop them from being afraid, t-the way I am." He paused, allowing the moment of serenity to wash over him, before biting his lip. "..I-I've always been inspired, by heroes like All Might. S-seeing him save people, it.. made me feel like I could do the same. I-it made me feel like I have a purpose."

Ms. Atsuko peered at him with raised eyebrows, her expression more focused than it had been a few moments ago. She hummed in thought, her lips pulling into a kind smile. "That's very noble of you, Mr. Midoriya." She pulled out a sheet of paper from the stack she'd organized, glancing at it for a moment. "Now.. let's begin, shall we?"
--
Izuku emerged from the front gates of U.A. approximately four minutes after his session had ended, footsteps carrying him on autopilot as he tried to work through his thoughts. His time with Ms. Atsuko had been.. illuminating. She'd been an odd mix of professional and approachable in her behavior, her demeanor coaxing Izuku into speaking his mind even when he wasn't under the effects of her Quirk. After a few assessments she'd let him know that he possessed symptoms suggesting he suffered from moderate to severe depression, as well as an anxiety disorder and possible post traumatic stress disorder. Having all those factors used to describe himself was.. distressing, as much as it was relieving.

He hadn't ever really thought himself above mental illness, in the sense that it was something other people had and he didn't. Izuku had just never really.. sought to clarify and label his pain. It'd always seemed an indistinct amalgam of negativity, everything he feared and everything he hated about himself conglomerated together into something untouchable. It had always seemed bigger than him, something he could never challenge.

To have each part of that pain pulled apart and given a name, to have it be made something tangible and understood-it certainly wasn't enough to relieve him of that pain, but it seemed a little less daunting. It wasn't a supernatural horror, but the thought of psychological damage still made him uncomfortable. Objectively, he knew that many pro heroes dealt with similar issues, and it was nothing to be ashamed of.

But realistically, he knew that a large part of what made heroes successful was their image. Izuku's admiration for All Might may not have faltered upon meeting the man behind the hero (it had only grown, upon his interacting with a more human side of the Number One Hero), but that didn't mean others would feel the same. Normal people needed to believe that heroes were larger than life, bigger than the problems they faced.

But Izuku was worn by his issues like a puppet. How could anyone feel safe, when their hero was scarred both inside and out? What sort of hero could be be, when he flinched at loud noises, and froze up during confrontations, and shut down in large crowds? What kind of hero could he be, with a Quirk that ruined everything it touched?

Lost in a haze of dark static, Izuku didn't even realize he'd begun to walk into the street until he was forcibly grabbed from behind and yanked back onto the sidewalk. He endured a moment of disconnect where his body moved backwards and his consciousness remained stagnant, before everything snapped painfully into place and left him staring up at a shocked looking Iida.

He tuned in partway through his friend's lecture, wilting at the sheer panic hastily folded underneath his booming voice. "-now you must understand how extremely dangerous it is to walk into the street without even looking, especially during this time of day! I implore you to please, pay more attention to your surroundings, and at least look both ways before crossing the street!"

"I-Iida, it's okay, I-I'm fine really, I-I was just lost in thought, i-it's no big deal-" Izuku hastily erected in his defense, completely aware that it was reckless of him to walk on autopilot while paying minimal attention to what was going on around him. He balked further at the sight of Kirishima, Tokoyami, and Uraraka standing only a few feet away.

"It certainly is a 'big deal' if it leads to you walking straight into oncoming traffic, Midoriya! Your safety is very important, and the first step to ensuring personal safety is awareness!" Iida sucked in a puff of air, clearly ready to begin what could possibly amount to a fifteen minute lecture.

"Hey, hey, why don't we all just take a chill pill for a second?" Kirishima offered, stepping over with an easy grin. "I'm pretty sure Midoriya knows better than to walk in front of speeding cars, right?" Izuku started when an expectant smile was turned on him, and he nodded frantically in response. "Like I thought. So clearly, it was an accident. And he'll definitely pay more attention from now on, right?" Izuku nodded again, more relaxed once he saw Iida's internal engines shift out of turbo drive.

"..Yes, I believe you're correct. I was merely concerned is all." Iida fell out of his 'I'm going to speak at length about something very important' stance, and back into his neutral 'I'm prepared to speak at length about something very important should the need arise' posture. He offered Izuku a small smile that was slightly strained around the edges.

"I-I'm sorry for worrying you, Iida," Izuku murmured, a pinprick of guilt dripping in his chest. "I-I promise to pay more attention."

"Oh good, glad that's taken care of!" Uraraka exclaimed cheerfully, having apparently cleared the distance when Izuku wasn't paying attention. Tokoyami lingered a few steps behind her, his gaze turned on the horizon. "Now we can decide where to hang out! We were discussing stuff while you were busy with your appointment, Izuku, and we narrowed it down to a couple places. Iida suggested the park down the road, Kirishima wanted to go to a gym with an indoor pool, Tokoyami mentioned an aquarium that's like twenty minutes away, and there's a movie out that I've been wanting to see! Oh, and you can suggest something too, Izuku!"

Izuku flinched as he was bombarded with possibilities, frantically trying to juggle pros and cons for each one. "O-oh! Well, u-uhm, those all sound r-really fun, I'm just.. I-I usually hang out at a beach by my apartment, b-but it's kinda.. not great. I-I'm really not sure how to choose!"

"We are shaped by the paths we take, be they through thicket and bramble or a road oft walked. It is not their destinations that make us, but the hardships faced on the journey to them. Fret not for the road where greatness lie; nay, it is a choice that only the heart may decide." Tokoyami crossed his arms and gazed off into the distant cityscape, seemingly oblivious to the quartet of astonished stares directed at him.

"W-wow... t-that was so cool, Tokoyami!" Izuku gushed, distant stars shining in his eyes. "D-did you come up with that yourself?"

Tokoyami glanced coolly at him, before coughing and clearing his throat. "It was.. from a text adventure game I played when I was younger," he muttered, glancing away pointedly at Uraraka's exclamation of 'Aww, that's so cute!'.

"Still makes a pretty great point," Kirshimia uttered thoughtfully, rubbing at his chin. "As long as we have a good time, it doesn't matter much where we go. Besides, we got tons of time to hit up all kinds of cool places in the future!"

"A salient point, but it provides no solution to our predicament," Iida proclaimed. "We still need to decide where to go."

Uraraka stretched her arms over her head, voice coming out in a groan. "I don't know about you guys, but our last class with All Might kinda wore me out. The aquarium sounded pretty neat, and pretty relaxing."

"Cool with me," Kirishima shrugged, glancing over at a Tokoyami who was attempting to reorient his stoic visage. "No offense man, but I'm kinda surprised you didn't suggest we go check out a graveyard or somethin'."

"Graveyards are locations of aesthetic and mournful contemplation," Tokoyami intoned seriously. "Besides, there isn't much we could do at one that couldn't be done at a park."

"I suppose the aquarium is our destination of choice. I will be more than happy to provide compensation for admission, should anyone require it-" Iida strode to the head of the pack, seemingly so that he could lead them in an orderly line.

"Aw c'mon, man, you can't just offer that stuff out of the blue," Kirishima laughed, shoes clapping against the pavement. "You're gonna make the rest of us look bad with that kinda manly behavior."

Izuku trailed a few paces behind his friends, lost in a world soaked through by the nearly setting sun. A warm yellow glow painted the concrete streets, buildings standing as stark silhouettes against the pale blue sky. The air was cool and still around him, which made the warmth of his scarf stand out even more. He was still for a moment, allowing the voices of his friends to echo back to him, when Uraraka turned to glance at him.

"..You alright, Izuku?" She was smiling when she asked, her eyes a shimmering brown that spoke of her fondness, and her concern. Part of Izuku was ready to cry, to be overwhelmed once more by the friendships he'd found, and how sweetly they enveloped him.

But instead he smiled, a natural growth that held steady and sincere. He was unburdened by static, his fears felt so very distant, and a tiny glowing pit of hope had budded in his chest. "Y-yeah," he murmured, voice untethered by twisting wires, "I will be."

Chapter 18

Chapter Text

The next three days passed in a haze that Izuku could barely believe was real, a surreal normalcy consuming him wholly and utterly. Classes passed without incident, his traditional studies barely requiring attention and his Hero studies less rigorous than the first combat trial. He managed to squeak by without any use of his Quirk, which left his head clear and his consciousness in one piece.

He'd also gotten better acquainted with his classmates, conversing with nearly all of them. Tokoyami had introduced him to Shouji and Kouda, whom he found to be strangely relatable in their contemplation and silence, respectively. He'd gushed over Shouji's Quirk until it became embarrassing for both of them, and had a very pleasant (if mostly one sided) conversation with Kouda about local bird species.

Kirishima had practically thrown him at Kaminari and Ashido, who were both nice, if a little overwhelming in their loud personalities. Kaminari was incredibly lax, and made so many references in normal conversation that Izuku sometimes had trouble keeping up with them all. He'd also been the gateway to Izuku meeting Sero, who had been almost scarily easy to talk to about whatever came to mind. Ashido had zeroed in on his nails like a homing missile, badgering him about how he'd gotten them to look so neat before he was forced to admit his mom had done them for him. She'd teased him a little in that oddly friendly way he still wasn't used to, before telling him how red was definitely his color, and went on a tangent about contrasts that left Izuku totally lost.

Uraraka hadn't missed out on 'mission: trade Izuku around' either, and had led him into an easy conversation with Asui and Hagakure, who struck him almost as polar opposites. Asui had been straightforward and blunt in a refreshing manner, her lack of readability still throwing him off but their conversation about aquatic sports leaving him almost glowing. Hagakure had been an invisible wellspring of energy, and had (oddly enough) drilled him about his completely nonexistent love life until Ojiro had come to his rescue.

Izuku had also noticed a pattern emerging, considering every single day of class had begun with a different one of his friends waiting outside the train station for him. Tokoyami had met him with a comfortable silence on Tuesday, the two of them walking side by side with no need for conversation between them. Wednesday was Kirishima, who consistently flustered Izuku with his frequent physical contact and impossible-to-contain good vibes. Several times on their walk, Izuku had been almost unable to believe the sun was in the sky, instead of by his side. Uraraka met him on Thursday, so sweet and genuine that it made his eyes water and his heart flutter erratically in his chest, her obvious determination an inspiration for him to behold.

And on Thursday evening, it rained. The sky swelled with purple-black thunderheads, which opened up in a thunderous downpour an hour after school let out. Izuku stepped out of school with a slightly tattered black umbrella in hand, saddened that the plans he'd made with his friends had fallen through. The forecast that morning had only predicted a forty percent chance of rain by five in the afternoon, which had still been enough to spark his paranoia and lead him to bringing an umbrella.

The rain came down like liquid bullets, cracking into the concrete in a calamitous melody. Izuku could feel the force of them vibrate the umbrella in his grip, pulled down low so as not to be tugged from his hand by the wind. It wasn't strong enough to slant the rainfall into him, which he was thankful for, but it still assaulted him with a damp, bitter chill. He pulled his scarf up over his nose, his own breath quickly warming the thick fabric. He'd tucked the ends of the garment into the folds, to ensure no part of it was soaked by the rain.

Izuku nearly tripped on his way to the train station, a bolt of lightning turning the whole sky a blazing white, the resulting crash of thunder reverberating all the way to the roots of Izuku's teeth. He made haste to hurry back to his apartment, the train providing only a brief respite from the chill. The sound of rain on metal itched under his skin, a crawling static that layered fuzz around the edges of his vision.

He could feel Living Nightmare writhing in his flesh, knotted between bones and organs and bloating from the energy of his discomfort. His mind snagged on a single thought, one which persisted long after he'd made it to the safety of his apartment, and helped his mother cook dinner. Maybe if he released his Quirk, it would grant him a brief reprieve.

Izuku turned restlessly in bed, the chill of the outside world seeping into his apartment even though he knew the heating was on. The rain still pounded in his ears, despite the several walls and several stories between him and the source. He sat up and checked his phone for the umpteenth time, the clock blaring an accusatory '23:38'. He knew his mother usually turned in early, but had wanted to wait a little while to both ensure she was asleep and calm his own jittery nerves.

His second task was nigh impossible to complete, but he was fairly sure his mother was sound asleep. Izuku slipped out of bed and grabbed his shoes by the heel, too paranoid to clomp around the apartment in them. He crept through the living room in just his socks, gently setting his shoes aside when he reached the apartment's front door. He dug through the coat closet, quietly shuffling through winter coats until he found a rarely worn rain slicker.

He slid on the forest green garment over his All Might themed pajamas, slipping on his shoes and cursing himself for never insisting on purchasing rain boots. His stickers would likely be ruined by the end of the night. He slowly pulled open the apartment door, wincing when the lock clunked as he turned it. He hurried the rest of the way out, shutting it tight behind him. He snagged the umbrella that had been left to dry outside the door, and strained to reach the spare key at the top of the door frame.

The scant few inches he'd gained in his last growth spurt contributed just enough for him to knock his fingers against the key, scrambling to catch it before it hit the ground. He locked the door behind him, stashing it into a pocket on his pajama pants and hauling the umbrella up on his way out of the complex.

The streets were completely empty, the late hour and roaring thunderstorm more than enough to dissuade any outdoor activity. Izuku snapped open the umbrella as he stepped under the downpour, the cold biting right through his raincoat and causing goosebumps to rise on his skin. The world was made indistinct by the countless raindrops in the air, a dark void populated only by the white smears of streetlights.

Izuku walked numbly down the sidewalk, both hands clutched around the grip of his umbrella. His vision fuzzed and swayed, Living Nightmare an exponential growth under his skin. He was so sure that the scars on his torso were burning, red hot from the power of his Quirk straining to be released. The rain had always unsettled him, had always made him feel itchy and tense, but it had never been so hard to ignore.

It had never been so impossible to ignore, Izuku amended, considering he was already only a few minutes away from his beach. It felt like a dream, walking endlessly in a dark world soaked by rain and rattled by thunder. The slick concrete reflected the glow of buzzing street lights, and empty windows kept a baleful watch. He could barely hear his own breathing above the roar of water, shoes clapping in a numb rhythm, legs carrying him like a stiff corpse.

Awareness returned in part when the pavement gave way to wet sand, sloshing and clinging to the soles of his shoes. He left deep footprints behind, the wet squelch and sucking pressure of the beach's surface bringing him to a halt. Izuku huffed out a breath into the frigid air, reaching up to secure the hood of his rain slicker over his head. He carefully closed and set aside his umbrella, trudging to a corner of the beach that still contained piles of garbage.

The smell of wet oxidization and ocean salt stung his nostrils, rain running in rivulets down his shaking body. Izuku's breath deepened into pants, his fingers clenching and unclenching as he reached for the barbed webbing that tied together his insides. Living Nightmare rose to his call, a horrible, feverish throb under his skin that made him gasp. Dead whispers curled around his ears, breathy and broken and urging him on.

The shadows of the beach thickened into tar, a swirling miasma that bulged and bloated with purple bruises and dim red heat. The roar of the rain and the crashing of ocean waves were combated by a howling chorus, raw terror given a thousand voices with which to shriek its agony. Living Nightmare raged under cover of dark, unshackled by its fleshy constraints.

Izuku awoke face down in the wet sand, grains running into his mouth in a soupy sludge. He coughed and hacked and vomited into the surf, grains scratchy and bitter between his teeth. His awareness of burning stomach acids and the tang of salt existed on another plane; he knew of the sensations, but was removed from them. It was akin to a puzzle missing key pieces, where he could see the edges of a bigger picture but not what they contained.

Distantly, Izuku attempted to slot the missing pieces into place. Chunks of fractured consciousness slowly welded back together, senses realigning. Slowly, piece by piece, Izuku put himself back together.

Awareness came in a waterfall, battering him with whole body shivers and the sting of digestive fluids in his throat. His mouth tasted sour and bitter, a repugnant flavor that he futilely spat into the sand. Rising on shaking limbs, Izuku peeled himself out of the sand that had crusted over him. The rain had begun letting up, still streaking wet sand down his slicker in dark clumps.

Izuku staggered away from the pit of sand he'd lain motionless within, leaving piles of rust that had once been appliances behind. The dark weight in his chest had been lightened, leaving him empty and numb. Izuku retrieved his umbrella, and began the long walk home.

He didn't make it back into bed until four in the morning.
--
Izuku yawned into his scarf for the fifth time in as many minutes, his jaw sore from the mere expression of his exhaustion. He'd used up whatever energy he'd managed to accrue after three hours of sleep to repeatedly assure his mother that he was perfectly fine, and had just had a bad night's sleep. He felt bad about lying to her, but managed to partially justify it to himself via (possibly skewed) rationalization. What exactly could he have told her? 'Sorry mom, I need to go out in the pouring rain, in the middle of the night, to unleash my incredibly destructive and psychologically damaging Quirk in a location where human lives won't be at risk, and then lie in the sand for hours like a dead fish'? Somehow, Izuku imagined that wouldn't go over well.

So he fought through his exhaustion, eyes twitching with the effort to stay open, his limbs more uncoordinated than usual. His scalp felt itchy and tacky, even after he'd spent twenty minutes in the shower attempting to scrub away every last speck of sand when he got home, and took a second shower after waking up at a more reasonable hour. The taste of his digested dinner combined with sea foam had been replaced by burning mint, strong enough to make his tongue tingle.

But those small physical discomforts were nothing compared to the relief he felt after unleashing Living Nightmare. After snapping back into himself he'd been free of static and the itch under his skin, left in a serene silence that allowed him to relax, even if it was only a little. He managed to climb onto the train without losing himself in thought and forgetting to get on, and even smiled a little when he browsed his favorite hero forums and responded to a few posts.

Izuku sucked in a deep breath when the train lurched to a halt, pocketing his phone and hoisting his backpack over his shoulders. He shuffled his way past a few other morning commuters, waiting politely for a few bodies to board the train before he slipped out the doors. As expected, he could see Iida's silhouette off near the station's exit, standing so stiffly that Izuku could have mistaken him for a statue.

"G-good morning, Iida!" Izuku called, his volume less than impressive. He'd always had trouble raising his voice for anything other than brief fits of passion, which were usually few and far between. His earlier schooling taught him that being quiet made it less likely for him to be picked on, and he was having trouble unlearning that behavior. It was distressing to think about too deeply, being unable to discern if his soft spoken-ness was a result of abuse by his peers or a facet of his personality. Izuku tried not to think about it too often.

"Midoriya, good morning to you as well!" Iida responded with a volume that came from someone that had the utmost confidence in their words. He marched over to Izuku (in a disconcertingly stiff manner, Izuku had no idea how he didn't get cramped up) and raised a hand in greeting, looking as impeccable as he had every day previous. Izuku couldn't wrap his head around how Iida managed to both take the time to look like a model from a school uniform catalog and still get to class earlier than anyone else.

"S-sorry to, uhm.. keep you waiting. I-I know you like to get to school really early." Izuku tried for a sheepish smile instead of his face twisting with crippling guilt and shame, and imagined it came out halfway decent looking.

"Not to worry-It's no trouble at all to meet with you!" Iida offered a small smile, gesturing for Izuku to join him. Iida's smile fell in increments equal to the distance that shrank between them, quickly replaced by concern. "MIdoriya, are you feeling alright? You look unwell."

Izuku flinched and made an aborted motion to tug up his scarf, remembering at the last second that it wouldn't do much to hide the bags under his eyes. "N-no-I m-mean-yeah, I-I mean-I'm fine, I just d-didn't sleep too well. I'm just tired, is all."

Iida slapped on a critical frown, leaning down to inspect Izuku's panicked countenance. "Are you completely sure? Perhaps you might have caught ill. Do you feel feverish, or dizzy? Any nausea? How many fingers am I holding up?"

Izuku shrank away from Iida's hastening gestures, waving his own hands in a placating manner, "N-no, really, I-I'm fine! I had a h-hard time getting to sleep, but that's it. P-promise." He erected a crudely made smile, hoping it looked believable enough for Iida to trust him.

Luckily, it seemed the utter travesty of a smile on his face fell within the range of 'sincere' that Iida was looking for. The taller boy wiped away the majority of his skepticism, raising one hand to adjust his glasses. "Well.. if you're sure. Just promise me you'll try to sleep better from now on. The brain's ability to learn and retain new information is drastically reduced when you haven't gotten proper rest, and exhaustion has a disastrous effect on both critical thinking skills and reflexes as well!"

"I-I promise," Izuku repeated with genuine honesty, smiling faintly at Iida's overblown concern. Maybe for someone else it would have been annoying to receive so many heartfelt lectures, but Izuku was fairly certain that was just Iida's way of showing he cared. It sent little currents of warmth curling through him, and put pressure on the (incredibly sensitive) trigger that made his eyes well up.

"Glad to hear it," Iida concluded, beginning to walk briskly towards the U.A. campus. Izuku hurried after him, his strides covering less distance. "Oh, I almost forgot, there was another matter I wished to speak with you about. How are you handling your duties as class representative?"

And all the warmth fled from Izuku's chest, replaced with cold dread and the dawning horror of realization. He froze in place, Iida continuing on for a few steps before he paused to turn around in confusion. "O-oh my god I completely forgot I was class rep," Izuku whispered, tone tinged with hysteria.

He barely even heard the mountainous lecture Iida piled onto him on the rest of the walk to school.
--
Izuku approached the front gates of U.A. at Iida's heels, wishing he had a collapsible skeleton so he could just shrink away into nothingness. His ears still rang from the tail end of Iida's heated lecture about responsibility and academic duties, the shame in his gut burbling nauseatingly. Iida hadn't seemed.. angry, or even disappointed, but his stern reprimands forced those emotions to the forefront of Izuku's mind instead.

He was angry at himself, disappointed in his own inability to focus on the things expected of him. Maybe he hadn't wanted the position of class representative, but he hadn't done much to actually refute it in the moment. His excuse of being worried over Kacchan's letter wouldn't hold up, because he'd been so cowardly as to ignore it for two days.

The sight of Yaoyorozu standing patiently near the entrance to U.A.'s main building only cemented those feelings, her cool gaze locking onto him even from where he was half hidden behind Iida. He wilted like a flower in the desert, hugging his arms tight around his own torso. It didn't provide the reassurance he needed, but the pressure was enough to center him for the moment.

"Midorya," Yaoyorozu called out, once they were within conversational distance, "and Iida as well. Good morning. Midoriya, we need to discuss your representational duties. Specifically, the lack thereof." Her tone was curt and business-like, but contained the same strange lack of anger and disappointment that Iida's had. There was something else to fill the void, an emotion Izuku wasn't able to parse.

Izuku piped up before Iida had a chance to speak over him, his tone dripping with remorse. "I-I know, I r-really messed up. I'm really s-sorry, Yaoyorozu-"

"Sorry or not," she interrupted, eyeing him intently, "I'm unable to do my job when you don't do yours. So please, don't take it personally when I say you aren't qualified for the position, and Mr. Aizawa, whom I spoke with a few minutes ago, feels the same way."

Iida looked almost comically stricken, clearly fumbling to construct a stalwart defense in his friend's name. He opened his mouth, silence hanging for a few moments, before he sighed. "..I'm afraid I must agree. I voted for you, Midoriya-" he raised his voice slightly to be heard over Izuku's exclamation of disbelief, "because you're compassionate, intelligent, and driven. However, you are also faced with your own burdens that severely outweigh the position of class representative. Personal health is more important."

"I-I mean-I-I.. y-you're both right, I guess," Izuku managed after a moment of thought. "I w-was just... I didn't want to l-let everyone down by being a bad r-representative, is all. And to be honest.. I-I always thought you'd be much better suited, Iida."

"I agree wholeheartedly. Therefore as acting class representative in lieu of Izuku Midoriya, I appoint you, Tenya Iida, the new class representative," Yaoyorozui intervened, something like relief filmed over her tone. She spoke loudly over Iida as he began tearing up with pride and revving up into a speech about how he would honor the position given to him and be a shining example of impeccable authority. "Thank you for helping me clear that up, both of you. Now, let's get to class so we can begin attending to those duties."

Izuku breathed a sigh of relief when Yaoyorozu turned to enter the school, gently prompting Iida out of his emotional monologue. He was honestly shocked that everything had gone over well-his original plan about being class rep (before he'd forgotten completely) mostly involved panicking and calling Iida at every available opportunity to try and figure out what he was supposed to do.

And once the shock of the situation wore off, Izuku allowed himself to be overwhelmed by Iida's glowing praise of his character. A part of him (cruel and whispering and bitter) had thought that the votes for him were malicious in nature, meant to humiliate him because he was so unsuited and incapable. Izuku had quickly learned that that wasn't the case, considering no one in class 1-A seemed to particularly dislike him, but the fear had lurked regardless.

Having proof that it was unfounded unsettled the foundations of his self hatred just a little more, gave him a sliver of strength that he could use to walk with his head held high. Izuku couldn't possibly put into words the gratitude he felt for those that supported him, but his head whirled with endless thoughts of ways he could make it known regardless. Maybe he could bake a cake, or buy everyone individual gifts, or-

Izuku's train of thought crashed and burned and piled up into a roiling mass of destruction the moment he walked through the door to 1-A's classroom. The only thing he could hear was his own breathing, hitching and unsteady and hiccuping with upset. There were four bodies in the room, counting himself, Iida, and Yaoyorozu.

The fourth was Katsuki Bakugou, sat stiffly in his assigned desk. His posture was so tense that he looked as if he might shatter from anger alone, fingers twitching against the wooden surface of the desk. He'd looked up the moment the door had opened, his molten red gaze entrenching Izuku in a pit of fire and blood. He could feel that gaze, feel it trace the scar on his face, and he swallowed a sob when their eyes met.

Kacchan's anger was almost a tangible entity, less an uncontrolled firestorm and more a mushroom cloud in a jar. His glare had long surpassed thermal overload, so hot that Izuku could nearly feel his skin burning away into ash. But the look on his face wasn't rage, wasn't hatred-it was pain, and that hurt Izuku more than the hole in his face ever had.

Chapter 19

Chapter Text

Izuku breathed in, and breathed out. Or at least, that had been the plan. Were his lungs not frantically pulsing in his chest and his throat not squeezing itself into a soaking lump of meat, he might have been able to practice his breathing exercises. Instead he was left to suffocate, lost in the red pits of Kacchan's eyes while they sucked all the oxygen from the room. He produced a painful sounding squeak after almost half a minute of silence, and that was apparently the catalyst.

Kacchan rose from his desk in an overly controlled motion, his anger so transparent that Izuku could almost see the fire under his skin. Each footstep was a death toll, bells screaming and clanging in sonorous upset for every inch Kacchan moved forward. His arms were shaking at his sides, fingers curling and twitching and cutting crescents into his palm. But all Izuku could see was the pain in his eyes, the open wound that made him a dying animal, lashing out wildly at anything near it.

Bakugou made it halfway across the room before Iida stood in his path, face a stone mask of disapproval and his muscled arms crossed firmly over his chest. Bakugou met his gaze for half a moment, glaring more at the sheen of Iida's glasses than anything. "Move," he hissed, voice thick and ragged and raw. To anyone that didn't know him, it might have sounded damaged from screaming.

But Izuku knew better. He knew Kacchan better than anyone, and had never heard him sound like that. He managed half a step forward without realizing it before Yaoyorozu put a hand on his arm, her eyes hard and her posture tense.

"Katsuki Bakugou," Iida sounded out, as if the syllables were unpleasant to say, "if you think I'm going to stand idly by while you torment another student only moments after returning from your suspension for violent behavior, then you are sorely mistaken. You are a black mark on this school's reputation. You do not deserve to be here-"

"I should'a known those glasses were for show, considering how far your head is up your own ass," Bakugou snarled, his anger hot but not yet flaring. "You must really think I'm some kinda idiot, huh? Well here's a goddamn newsflash for you-I fucking know I don't deserve to be here, asshole." Iida's cold stance faltered for a moment, and Bakugou wasted no time in striking once more. "I'm not fucking blind. I know I fucked up. I know what I did was fucked up, and I'd have to be a brain dead shithead to throw my one in a million chance away. So get out of my fucking way. I'm not gonna lay a fucking finger on him."

Izuku's heart gushed blood into the cavity of his chest, hemorrhaging upset and confusion and fear in a vile downpour. He couldn't tear his eyes away from Kacchan's face, from the snarl with no teeth and the anger with no explosion and the dark drip of pain behind his eyes.

"I think," Yaoyorozu's voice rang out, her icy tone radiating frost, "that as the victim of yourcruelty,it's Midoriya's decision to talk to you, not yours. He has no obligation to speak with you after what you did, and you should very well find yourself humbled and grateful should he choose to do so."

Izuku opened his mouth before Kacchan had a chance to erupt, voice shaky and full of holes. "N-no, it-it's o-o-okay. T-thank you, b-but.. if K-Kacchan says he won't h-hurt me, I believe him." Izuku gently eased his way out of Yaoyorozu's steady grip, and made imploring eye contact with Iida. He could see the visible frustration and conflict on his friend's face, before Iida eventually stepped aside. Izuku smiled gratefully, the expression a skeleton of what it should have been, and allowed himself to be pulled in by Kacchan's eyes again.

Bakugou thundered forward, footsteps dragging against the floor with the sheer weight of his intensity. Izuku could practically taste the heat in the air. "You got the letter, right?" Bakugou's voice was tight and barely controlled, shaking violently between syllables. Izuku barely managed to nod before he spoke again. "And you read it, didn't you?" Izuku nodded again, frantic and placating.

He attempted to slip a word in edgewise, only to be rooted in place when Kacchan focused that deadly glare on him. He could feel his childhood friend's teeth gritting together, could feel the shudder in his words, the crackling sparks before an outburst. "Good. Then I want you to listen. Very. Fucking. Carefully. Understand?" Izuku's head twitched up and down, and Kacchan visibly took a moment to calm himself. "I meant every single word in that letter. And for anyone else, that'd be enough. But I fucking know how you are. I know I have to make things crystal fucking clear just so your shitty bleeding heart nonsense doesn't ruin everything. So remember what I fucking wrote. Fucking tattoo it on your goddamn forehead so you don't forget, if you have to. And fucking listen. Got it, Izuku?"

Izuku flinched, the sound of his given name on Kacchan's tongue almost wrong, even when it replaced the nickname that had caused him so much grief and self doubt. He hiccuped out a breath, and nodded again before attempting to speak. "Kacchan-"

"SHU-" Bakugou snapped his mouth closed around his shout, growling low in the base of his throat. He squeezed his eyes shut, and breathed in through his nose, and out through his mouth. "Izuku. This isn't an issue you can fight me on. So bite your fucking tongue and save whatever stupid saccharine bullshit you're brewing for someone else, andleave me alone." His eyes snapped open when the words finished rattling from between his clenched teeth, so impossibly red and containing more than the blind hatred Izuku had been subjected to before. He wanted to reach out, desperately so, to help.

But it was too soon. The embers in the air hadn't yet settled, and Kacchan's fuse was barely contained between pinched fingers. And so all he could do was watch numbly as Kacchan stalked back to his desk, throwing himself into his seat and laying his head against his crossed arms.

The door to class 1-A opened a moment later, before Izuku even had a chance to untangle the mess of emotions stringing him up. He quietly settled into his seat as chatter rose between the other students, nearly every head turning to eye Bakugou at one point or another. None of them were foolish enough to approach him right away, but nobody made any effort to hide the fact that they were whispering about him.

Izuku was torn away from his subconscious assessment of Kacchan when Aizawa slid through the door, looking almost half dead from sleep deprivation. He stood behind his desk, gaze sweeping dully over the class until every voice had been lowered. "Good. You're learning. Today you'll all be partaking in a special lesson for your hero training. It takes place off campus at a special facility, so the rest of your classes have been postponed for the day." He winced when there was a burst of excited noise, reaching up to rub between his eyes. "No interruptions. Today you'll be doing rescue training, primarily dealing with disaster simulations. Myself, All Might, and another faculty member will be overseeing the exercise."

There was a momentary pause, as if Mr. Aizawa was daring someone to speak up, before his droning words returned. "We'll be gathering outside in a few minutes to take a bus, so all of you get changed. Wear your costumes if you want, but don't let them inhibit you in the training." Mr. Aizawa thumbed the remote that released their costumes from the wall slots, sighing under his breath when everyone rushed to gather their outfits.

Izuku winced at the thought of his own costume, which the costume department had deemed 'absolutely ruined'. It at least gave him some time to revise the design a little, and in the meantime he didn't much mind wearing the gym uniform. He waited for the flood of students to ebb a little bit, shuffling towards the exit. He paused halfway out the door when Mr. Aizawa began speaking again.

"Bakugou," the pro hero began, his tone carefully neutral, "you won't be participating in this event. You're going to take notes on how your classmates utilize their Quirks in the training, and I'll be reviewing them after class. You're on a very short leash, so don't screw things up."

Izuku flinched when he heard Kacchan's answering growl, scurrying out the door before anything exploded.
--
Izuku slumped back into his bus seat with a sigh, arms folded over his chest and knees pressed tightly together to make room for Kirishima on one side of him and Asui on the other. He very pointedly did not glance past Kirishima to stare at Kacchan whenever he could get away with it, and was entirely content to just sit and wait peacefully without overthinking every moment of his life up until that point.

"You know," Asui spoke up, snapping Izuku out of his spiraling disaster of a thought process, "I wasn't really sure how to bring it up before, but I'm still really curious. What exactly is your Quirk, Midoriya? We only really saw you use it the one time."

Izuku balked under her placid gaze, fingers clenching the fabric of his gym uniform pants. "U-uh! I, uhm-i-it's p-pretty technical, a-and hard to.. describe, y-you probably wouldn't even be interested anyway-"

"Dude, how could we not be interested?" Kaminari questioned from across the aisle, blatant curiosity clear on his face. "You totally annihilated that grip tester, Midoriya. It was kind of a major deal."

Kirishima looked his way, inquisitiveness seeping into his tone. "Now that you mention it.. we haven't really seen much of it. Is it some kinda strength augmenting Quirk?"

"S-something along those lines," Izuku squeaked out, attempting to forcibly shove down his anxiety so as to not seem suspicious. "B-but like I said, i-it's extremely t-technical, n-not the kinda thing most people w-would care about."

"I dunno about that, man; strength enhancement is pretty cool, no matter how you slice it." Kirishima raised a hand and activated his own Quirk, the flesh taking on a stony texture. "A lot more interesting than hardening, too. Got a heck of a lot more applications when you're super strong." Izuku's attention snagged on his friend's rueful grin, and he rushed to correct it.

"N-no way, your Quirk i-is so cool, Kirishima!" He gushed, attempting to pour his nervous energy into enthusiasm instead of panic. He sat up further in his seat, making focused eye contact with his classmate. "There's so many practical uses for a Quirk like yours, and it's extremely versatile and reliable! Just because a Quirk is flashy doesn't make it better; what you do with your Quirk is what's important! Someone like you-there's no way you won't be a great hero!" He paused a moment before his second half of the monologue could begin, flushing at the sight of Kirishima's grateful smile and warm, sparkling eyes.

"Thanks, Midoriya. That means a lot, comin' from you." Izuku squeaked when Kirishima threw an arm around his shoulders, pulling him into a one armed embrace. He was fairly sure at least a liter of blood had crowded under his face by that point.

"While Kirishima's Quirk is pretty sweet," Kaminari began, rubbing his chin in mock contemplation, "you're still avoiding the question. If you do have a strength augmenting Quirk, then why don't you use it more? Strong as it looked, I just don't get how that asshole Bakugou got the better of you in the two on two's."

Izuku twitched at the mention of the combat training, attempting to discreetly flick his gaze towards where Kacchan was sat alone. The blond was glaring pointedly out the window, fingers digging into the skin of his jaw. "I-I just.. i-it's difficult to-control, a-and I didn't w-want to hurt him a-accidentally," Izuku murmured, trying not to notice Kacchan's tensing posture.

"That's definitely not a problem Bakugou had," Kaminari countered, seemingly oblivious to the dread creeping up Izuku's face.

"Do you really have to bring that up?" Jirou muttered from beside him, her tone one part reproachful and two parts annoyed.

"I'm just sayin' what we're all thinking," Kaminari defended, his voice flecked with accusation. "You'd have to be blind to not see how much of a prick Bakugou is, especially after he was suspended on his second day. He's kind of a lunatic-"

"D-don't talk about him l-like that," Izuku croaked, the words only half thought before they poured from his trembling lips. He was overcome with the urge to clam up and pretend he'd never said anything when Kaminari fixed him with an incredulous gaze, but Izuku forced himself past the fear. "J-just.. leave it alone. I'm n-not mad at him, s-so don't use me as an excuse to pick a fight."

"Why are you defending him?" Kaminari threw up his hands, looking more frustrated and bewildered than actually angry. "He's a total asshole, dude! He freakin' blew up your face, and you're not mad at him!?"

Izuku quivered in place, his words withering and dying in the echo of Kaminari's voice. He could see the other boy's eyes widen the moment his own vision was obscured by tears, and quickly turned to look the other way. He pressed one hand over the mark on his face, the other twisting in the fabric of his uniform.

"Dude, what the hell?" Kirishima barked, all traces of his former smile long gone. "That is absolutely uncool. Why the hell would you bring that up, man?"

"I-I wasn't trying to upset him," Kaminari blurted in his defense, a hysterical edge to his voice. "I-I'm sorry, man, you're right. That was totally uncool. Sorry, Midoriya." Izuku could see the other boy trying to catch his eye and make his remorse known, which only made it hurt more when Izuku continued to avoid his eyes.

"Hey, Kaminari," Jirou piped up, glancing sideways at his confused and contrite expression, "next time you get the urge to cram your foot in your mouth, you should consider swallowing it instead of talking."

Kaminari opened his mouth to spit out frantic words in his own defense, only to be interrupted by Mr. Aizawa's droning voice. "Alright everyone, we're here. Try not to tip the bus over on your way out," he muttered, gaze sweeping over the twenty heads he'd been saddled with. He relaxed his grip on the pole marking the separation of passenger seats from the front of the bus when it slowed to a stop, hydraulics hissing as the doors folded open.

Everyone began filing out a few moments later, some more hesitantly than others. Izuku pointedly avoided Kaminari's attempts to catch his attention non-verbally, gaze pulled to the floor by lead weights. He shrugged off Kirishima's searching look with a thin smile (stripped to the bone teeth and blood and a ragged hole) and stumbled down the stairs leading them outside.

He shuffled to the far back of his assembled classmates, itching with the urge to pull off his gloves and procure himself some kind of tactile stimulation. Izuku listened with half an ear to the Space Hero: Thirteen's opening speech, one part of his brain numbly listing through a chronological record of the rescue hero's accomplishments. He wished he could be excited to meet another pro, but- (explosive fumes and ash on his collar his mouth overflowing with teeth and the shadows that coiled around his limbs) he was just too distracted.

Izuku started at a hand on his shoulder, glancing up with wide, glassy eyes to meet Mr. Aizawa's steady gaze. "We're heading inside, Midoriya. This training is important, so don't lose focus. I know you're capable of doing this."

Izuku lost himself in eyes rimmed by exhaustion, their clarity paradoxically sharp and alert. He swallowed the steel clutter in his throat, his voice coming to him in broken pieces. "I-I'm s-s-sorry, M-Mr. Aizawa-"

"There's no reason to be sorry when you haven't made a mistake. Right now, I want you to be productive. Understand?" Mr. Aizawa stared down at him until Izuku could muster the strength to nod, before his teacher began leading him into the building. The doors clicked shut behind them, and Izuku caught the midpoint of Thirteen's prepared speech.

"-alled Black Hole. It creates a vortex that sucks in matter, and turns it into dust. It's allowed me to save many lives from countless disasters. However.. this power also has the potential to be immensely dangerous, easily fatal if used on someone else." Thirteen's voice took on a serious note, much of the class shuffling around to pay closer attention. "Despite stringent regulations and registrations, it would be impossible to prevent accidents or malicious behavior involving every dangerous Quirk out there. As a result, we have to practice restraint, so that we can always use our power to help instead of harm. Heroes exist to help those in need. While for some that involves combat, please never forget that saving others is your most important goal." Thirteen clapped their hands together, voice raising back into its previous enthusiasm. "Thank you all so much for listening!"

Izuku flinched when there was an uproar of applause, voices whispering words of admiration for the space hero. A sudden thought pushed to the forefront of his mental cacophony, and it persuaded Izuku into glancing around the USJ facility. "W..wasn't All Might supposed to be here, too?"

Mr. Aizawa straightened up from the wall he was leaning against, lips pulling into a scowl. "That's a good question. Any answers for us, Thirteen?"

"Ah, about that," Thirteen began contritely. "There was apparently an issue this morning that he had to take care of. Unfortunately, he won't be able to join us." Izuku pushed back a swell of disappointment just long enough to see Thirteen discreetly raise three fingers in Mr. Aizawa's line of sight. His homeroom teacher briefly inclined his head, before sighing loudly.

"I honestly don't know how that man even dresses himself in the morning," Mr. Aizawa muttered irritably, pinching the bridge of his nose between two fingers. "Well, nothing we can do about it now. If we're done with introductions, let's begin-"

Mr. Aizawa's words were drowned out by a crackle of electricity, the floodlights built into the walls of the USJ visibly shorting out. Each bulb burst in a shower of glass as they were overloaded, powerful electric currents snapping and sparking at the open air. The fountain in the center square sputtered as the water flow was interrupted, before it trickled out entirely. The air itself twisted and warped in front of the fountain, a blur of wrenched particles splitting open to spill out billowing darkness.

That darkness grew in moments, a towering rectangle of shadows that birthed dozens of misshapen, sinister forms. Bodies poured out by the dozens, marching purposefully out into the plaza. Most notable was a figure standing over eight feet tall, rippling with muscles that bulged underneath tar black skin. Its face was utterly inhuman, ending in a tapered snout bristling with triangular teeth. The top of its head was missing entirely, exposing pulsing grey matter to the open air. Its eyes stared blankly ahead, the creature silent and lumbering.

The man that stepped out alongside it looked almost diminutive in comparison, dressed in sloppy, dark clothes and covered in disembodied hands. His posture was loose and twitchy, head snapping around to gaze up at the frozen students between the fingers covering his face.

Izuku's insides had petrified, flaking lumps of stone fading into dust. There was no way, it was impossible, there couldn't possibly be-

"Villains," Mr. Aizawa intoned loudly, reaching to secure his dangling goggles over his eyes. He placed himself between the students and the staircase separating them from the flood of villains that had spilled in. "Thirteen, evacuate the students immediately! Get in contact with the main campus if you can!"

Thirteen's reply faded into static, Izuku left struggling to swallow around the organic pulp stuffing his esophagus. His breathing caught and stuttered and strangled itself into wheezing gasps, the spindly fingers of terror crawling down his throat and strangling him from the inside out. His vision flashed with static, reality seeping through rusted grates as the wires pulled around his limbs, so tight, so tight-

The tide was rising, and Izuku was going to drown.

Chapter 20

Chapter Text

A hand grasped for Izuku's own, interlocking with his fingers and pulling him bodily from his self destruction. He gasped around a mouthful of air, pupils swinging wildly as awareness crunched against his fracturing consciousness.

"Midoriya, this is no time for overthinking! We need to move!" Iida's shout crashed into him, fuzzy and indistinct but enough to unlock his legs, to allow him to stumble frantically after his friend. He squeezed Iida's fingers as tightly as he could, the muscles in his hand spasming erratically.

He half collided with Iida's back when his classmate suddenly ground to a halt, posture wound tight with tension. Izuku peered around him with calibrating retinas, and was met with the sight of Thirteen facing an indistinct cloud of swirling shadow, marked only by luminous yellow pits that he assumed were its eyes. Izuku risked a glance backwards, catching a glimpse of Eraserhead single-handedly holding off the group that had teleported in. Izuku frowned, the gears in his head clicking back into overdrive. They'd teleported in-

"I'm afraid you won't be going anywhere, children," the shadow spoke, his voice a deep, throbbing hum that resonated through the air. "I apologize for the short notice, but we of the League of Villains were simply so eager to meet you. How unfortunate it is that All Might couldn't be here to join us. It seems the schedule we stole was out of date-but no matter. We will simply have to make do-"

"D-DON'T GET NEAR HIM!" Izuku's hysterical scream rang out the moment Thirteen inched forward, one hand poised to unleash Black Hole. "H-He has a Warp Quirk, h-he'll teleport you i-if you get too close!" The gears in his head were spitting sparks, their teeth red hot and cracking apart. The haze of sleep deprivation and the noxious miasma of fear were burned through by the heat of his analysis, but it wouldn't last long.

"Everyone, stay back!" Thirteen's voice rang out a moment later, their opposite hand flinging back in a gesture that had the students backpedaling to create a safe distance. The shadow grew visibly irritated, losing composure as his silhouette went out of focus.

"Such a rude boy. Are those the manners befitting of a young hero? Your classmate, Katsuki Bakugou, certainly had no such issues." Izuku's fuzzing gaze snapped onto Kacchan with hyper focus, the blond staring at the villain with incomprehensible rage. "After all, he was instrumental in this attack. His student ID made it child's play to infiltrate your security undetected."

"What's he talkin' about?" Sero questioned aloud, prompting a few murmurs of suspicion.

"He's sayin' that Bakugou betrayed us," Kaminari accused loudly, turning a harsh glare rimmed with fear on a trembling Bakugou. "How else would this villain know his name? How else would they get in without anyone knowing?!"

"It's a workable theory," Todoroki supplied dryly, his tone lacking any indication of what he actually felt on the matter. "Bakugou is violent and self absorbed. Suspension is both a plausible trigger and a sufficient time frame for misguided revenge."

"K-Kacchan wouldn't do that," Izuku cried, the husk of his heart hammering into his ribs so hard it was falling apart, breaking off into petrified chunks. Everything was falling apart around him, he didn't have control, it was too overwhelming he just needed more time- "H-he cares about being a hero m-more than anything! T-that villain is just trying to t-turn us against each other-"

"How are we supposed to trust that?"! Kaminari yelled over him, that same hysteria leaking into his voice. "We barely know the guy, you're the only one that knows him, and you've got some kinda messed up relationship where he can treat you like shit and explode your face, and you're just okay with it-"

"SHUT THE FUCK UP!" Bakugou's scream reached a fevered pitch, his voice breaking from the sheer force of his rage. He shook like a street sign in an earthquake, explosions thundering to life in his palms. His chest heaved with shallow breaths, loud and whistling and frantic. "I'LL KILL YOU," he roared, blasting himself into the air with twin explosions that left massive plumes of smoke and fire behind him. "I'LL FUCKING KILL YOU I'LL FUCKING KILL YOU!" Katsuki Bakugou rocketed towards the warping villain like a screaming missile, covering the distance between them in the span of a heartbeat.

"K-Kacchan, no!" Izuku sobbed as loudly as his crumbling voice would allow, throwing himself bodily through the throng of his classmates before anyone could stop him. He was deaf to their cries of shock, to Thirteen's order to stay put, went untouched by the hands desperately reaching for him. All he could hear was screaming, a voice skewered with rage and misery accompanied by a symphony of bone shattering explosions. All he could see was Kacchan, painted nitroglycerin yellow before he was swallowed by a burgeoning squall of shadows.

Izuku's body moved on its own, carrying him, breathless, into the howling dark. He was consumed whole by the clouds of the villain's Quirk, vanished without a trace.

"How foolish," the villain mocked, expanding exponentially in a storm of wind and shadows, having managed to close enough distance during the distraction to encompass Thirteen and the remainder of class 1-A. His voice carried high above the yells of shock and activation of Quirks, a low thrum of deliberate malice. "Now you will join them in your deaths, children! BEGONE!"
--
Izuku was lost in the void between the fibers of reality, senses turned to electrical pulses and limbs turned to free floating molecules. He gasped for breath, carbon and hydrogen heavy on his tongue, his eyes bulging out of his head. He was everything and nothing, unraveled into a single string of being. He was weightless, heavy as a black hole and dark as the sun.

And then he was falling, air rushing into his lungs as his physicality was reestablished. He collided with hard ground, gasping at the impact. The shadows that constituted the villain's warp gate hung like tattered webs from his limbs and forced a chill into his bones. Izuku struggled to sit up and regain his bearings, frantically rubbing at the lingering traces of darkness and attempting to read his surroundings as quickly as possible.

He was still inside the USJ, which meant he was still in danger, but it was at least a danger he already understood instead of an unknown location. Likely that meant that the villain needed some understanding of the location he was teleporting to and from, and hadn't had a pre-prepared destination outside of the USJ. If anyone else had been caught in the warp, then they would almost certainly still be within the facility. But there was little chance the entire invasion force had appeared in one spot-it'd be easier to pick them off if the villains separated them, so they could be dealt with by smaller, prepared teams instead of having an all out brawl. But the location Izuku had been transported to didn't look like any of the disaster zones; it actually very distinctly resembled-

"YOU'RE DEAD, KID!" A sneering voice shouted out, forcing a scream from Izuku's throat when he was forced to duck away from a burly villain wielding a metal club. He glanced around frantically, eyes catching on the disabled fountain, as well as the numerous unconscious or otherwise out of commission bodies scattered around. He was right in the main plaza-

Izuku flinched violently when the villain reared back for another blow, his muscles locking up uselessly as the fear in his chest wound wire tight around his ribs- A roar of fury and a devastating explosion intervened before Izuku could have his head split open, the villain crying out in pain as Bakugou forced him away. He was shaking with uncontrollable rage, his pupils constricted within twin seas of molten heat.

"FUCKING MOVE, YOU IDIOT!" Kacchan snagged Izuku by the collar of his uniform, yanking him violently to his feet and shoving him away once he was standing. Izuku stumbled and nearly tripped over his own feet, eyes wide and tearing up. He attempted to speak, only to be forced into silence when Bakugou whirled around, slamming an explosive palm into another villain's face. "If you're not gonna do anything useful, then fucking RUN AWAY, Izuku! I don't have time to babysit your ass!"

"I-I-I-I-" Izuku's internal processes hissed and steamed, rapidly overheating from the mountain of data he was struggling to sort through. He wildly scanned the plaza, catching a flash of dark clothes and whipping scarves closer to the fountain, entrenched among a tide of bodies. "M-Mr. Aizawa, w-w-we have to help him!"

"That scraggly bastard can take care of himself," Kacchan snapped, gloved fingers twitching erratically, teeth bared in a malicious sneer. "I just need to kill that fucking smoky piece of shit, I'll fucking pull him apart with my bare hands!"

"B-but the majority of his m-mass is gaseous, y-your physical attacks won't be effective-" Izuku's mouth snapped shut when Kacchan turned a white hot glare on him, tongue scraping between his teeth before he worked up the willpower to open it again. "I-If.. w-w-we aren't helping Mr. Aizawa, t-then we should f-focus on regrouping a-and escaping, so we can get h-help!"

"Run away if you want, Izuku, but I'm going to fucking kill that worthless bastard. So why don't you just fuckin-" Kacchan's eyes widened from their narrowed glare, and Izuku was left with a single moment to dread what came next. A solid body slammed him to the ground in a tangle of limbs, knocking him out of the way of a villain that had just buried her massive iron knuckles into the concrete. She had half a second to look distressed when her knuckles stayed lodged in the ground, before Bakugou bellowed in wordless anger and unleashed a staccato of explosions in her face, the force ripping her free and sending her skidding away into another downed villain.

Izuku scrambled to his feet, his hands shaking so badly that his joints had begun to ache. He hiccuped around frantic inhales and exhales, and pressed a hand against his chest as if to physically push back the fear seeping through. "K-Kacchan-"

"JUST FUCK OFF ALREADY! DON'T YOU FUCKING GET IT? YOU'RE A LIABILITY! JUST LEAVE!"Bakugou's voice cracked from the sheer volume he'd forced into it, his pupils tracking over Izuku's stricken face for a moment before he wrenched his head away. He growled in frustration through his clenched teeth, his scowl becoming an indistinct mess through the sheen of Izuku's tears.

Izuku attempted to squeeze mangled words past the blockage in his throat, his vocal cords failing to produce anything other than a scratchy exhale. Kacchan was right; Izuku couldn't do anything without his Quirk, and the only thing he could do with it was cause pain and destruction. He didn't belong there, fighting alongside his classmates-they were real heroes. He'd just pretended so hard he'd started to believe it, lost in the delusion that he could be more than his fear. But he was wrong. Izuku was either dead weight or a danger to everyone around him. He didn't deserve to be a hero. "K-Kacchan-"

"Weeeell, isn't this a touching scene?" Izuku's head snapped up, his entire body protesting as he whipped around to locate the source of the voice. He froze the moment he made eye contact with the villain covered in hands, manic eyes searching his face through gaps in gloved fingers. "Looks like your students have come to say hello, Eraserhead. It'd be rude not to give them a warm welcome, don't you think?"

Mr. Aizawa ducked under a wild blow from a thug with three arms, landing a sharp kick underneath his ribs that left the villain winded and out of commission. Izuku trembled when his teacher's hidden gaze rested on him, dark hair falling limply around his shoulders and his lips pulled into a tight scowl. "I told you to evacuate, get out of here-"

That moment of distraction was all it took, a bestial roar singing out before Mr. Aizawa's cry of agony joined it. A massive, tar black palm crunched around his torso, fingers digging deep into his ribs. The grotesque mountain of muscle had cleared the distance faster than Izuku could blink, its dead eyed gaze turned straight forward.

"You really should have more confidence in your students, Eraserhead," the hand villain mocked, his voice a breathy rasp riddled with malicious glee. Izuku could only stare, the horror in his chest a howling thing that wore thin the flesh that barely contained it. He watched in blank terror as rivulets of blood trailed down the monster's massive fist, Mr. Aizawa's face locked in excruciating pain. "After all, I'm sure they're just strong enough to give me some worthwhile EXP. So you can sit tight, and keep my Noumu company for a little while."

Kacchan moved before Izuku could even remember how to breathe, his gloved palms alight with explosions and his face twisted with so many layers of hatred that Izuku could barely glimpse the fear beneath them. "YOU'RE DEAD, YOU BASTARD! YOU'RE ALL GONNA DIE HERE!" He flung himself through the air with the sheer force of his Quirk, teeth parted like a rabid animal. He closed the distance between himself and the ring leader in moments, pivoting to circle to the far right of the villain when grasping palms reached out towards him. He leveled the grenade on his arm at the back of the villain's head, reaching to pull the pin-

And was met with a wide eyed stare, pinprick pupils staring him down between stiff fingers. He could see the edges of the villain's smile, pulled so far up the corners of his face that Katsuki didn't understand how his mouth hadn't torn. The skin around his scarred, crumbling lips was unnaturally wrinkled, and there were dozens of spots of blood coagulating on the skin of his neck. Katsuki's grenade crumbled into flakes of dust under the villain's grip, and he blasted himself back with a startled yell before disintegrating fingers could reach his bare arm.

"K-Kacchan, d-don't let him touch you!" Izuku's voice pierced the echo of Bakugou's explosion, his eyes twitching over the villain's exposed back. He ran the man's movements through his head, his remaining gears red hot as he analysed the villain's startlingly quick reaction. "H-he leads l-left, a-and keeps his center of gravity low! K-keep your distance if you can!"

The villain froze in place, falling out of his combative stance to stand more casually. Izuku flinched and locked up when he made eye contact, the corners of his mouth barely visible. "You know, Eraserhead, you've got some pretty impressive students. I just never expected you to be the type to bother with damaged goods." A pang echoed in the hollow of Izuku's chest, and he struggled not to react, instead forcing his legs to pull him backwards in shaking increments. "Don't look so scared, brat. All I'm gonna do is take that scar off your face!"

Izuku's eyes widened into glossy disks when the villain slithered towards him, so impossibly fast, one hand reaching forward to turn him into dust. He managed half a breath, wrung out until it was broken and oozing with the odor of his fear. Living Nightmare swelled like a rupturing tumor in his chest, his silhouette snapping into focus as the darkness under his skin leaked free. He couldn't kill, he couldn't kill, not again not again not again-

"Shi-ga-ra-kiiiii," Izuku gargled, syllables pulled from a place beyond time and forced through his lips like meaty chunks, slopping against the fingers halted inches from his face. One pupil voraciously devoured the color of his iris, an insatiable well of hunger that pulled in everything around it. The other shrunk into a pinhole, a condensed mass that twitched and wobbled but never stopped staring, never stopped cementing the blood in Tomura Shigaraki's veins. "What are you afraid of, I wonder?"

Katsuki watched with numb panic in his chest as that thing wholly replaced the boy that filled him with (loathing envy hatred anger fear regret) too many tangled emotions, its mouth an open wound stuffed with curving teeth. Its voice was spotty with static, squirming in and out of focus between words. It loped up to the frozen villain, steady fingers gently reaching to remove the disembodied hand secured in place over Shigaraki's face. "Maybe you're afraid of disappointing father?" It mused, twisting and tearing off the hand mask's fingers as if they were taffy.

It dropped the ruined hand carelessly, blood trickling from the corners of its lips. "Or maybe you're afraid of disappointing someone else," it cooed, using one finger to daintily brush the hair out of the villain's face, constricted pupils locked onto it in blind fear. "It doesn't really matter-in the end, you're still a disappointment, Shigaraki. Why not lessen the blow? Gather up your little friends, and leave us, To-mu-ra Shigaraki."

That should have been the moment where Katsuki attacked, where he blew that repulsive villain's head apart like a melon with his other cannon, but-he couldn't let it see him. He couldn't handle it, couldn't fall into the vortex of black hole pupils again, couldn't be forced into weakness, into impotence, into fear. But he knew that it might not win. If that Shigaraki fuck had enough willpower, he could force his way through it, and Izuku would be weak and soft like he always was, and then- (flesh crumbling under cruel fingers, scar tissue turned to dust and wide green eyes turned to despair, despair, despair)

Katsuki threw himself forward with every ounce of will he could muster, his left arm cocked to propel him with an explosion and his right primed to unleash erupting death on the ugly hand freak. The sweat on his palm began lighting up, the spark of a flint before total annihilation-

Katsuki's eyes widened as his momentum carried him through a warp gate, his explosions aborting into puffs of odoriferous smoke when he slammed teeth first into the disabled fountain, pain exploding in the lower half of his face.

"Tomura Shigaraki," a deep, warbling voice intoned, amorphous shadows gathered at the halfway point between Shigaraki and his Noumu. "There's a matter we must deal with."

Izuku's consciousness returned in a kaleidoscope of fractured shards, gritting together unevenly. He gasped for breath and choked around a cry of fear, flinging himself away from the hand threatening to disintegrate his face at the same moment Shigaraki retreated, steps shaky and uneven. The villain's eyes were blown wide, pupils darting agitatedly and his lips twisting in immense displeasure. "Kurogiri! This fucking brat-he's a smurf, he's a smurf!" The villain accused wildly, one hand mashed against his face as the other gestured in frantic rage.

"Calm yourself, Shigaraki," Kurogiri suggested in a warning tone, his smoke settling into a more humanoid silhouette. "We have other issues to attend to. One of the children managed to escape the facility, and is likely to soon bring reinforcements."

Shigaraki froze, absolutely still save for the slight tremble of his free hand. His breathing quickened into ragged pants, fingernails digging violently into the skin of his throat. "Kurogiri... you idiot... I gave you one job, and you couldn't even do it..! I should atomize you right where you stand...!"

"There is no need for such anger," Kurogiri resonated, yellow eyes locked on a dissociating Izuku Midoriya. "While our mission has been cut short, there is still a path to victory. This boy.. he is one of All Might's. His death could pave the way to killing All Might."

Shigaraki paused in his self destruction, blood crusted fingernails slowly pulling away from his bleeding throat. "..Yeah. You're right. There's no way some little min maxer is going to stop us. Let's end his run, and shatter All Might's will."

Izuku flinched backwards when Shigaraki turned towards him, the villain grinning unsettlingly around the confines of his hand. "Poor little brat. So scared you're shaking in your boots. I'll be sure to make it slow and painful, just for you-"

"I-I'm not afraid of you," Izuku nearly whimpered, his voice weak and cracking but his stance unyielding. The fumes of Living Nightmare darkened his silhouette, as if he'd been cut away from the rest of reality. "I w-won't let you kill All Might."

"How are you going to stop us, I wonder?" Shigaraki stalked forwards, slow and deliberate, one hand raised and twitching with eager malice. "Are you going to use your single target Quirk on all three of us? Do you think you can kill us with your stupid cheap trick?"

Izuku stared into the space between Shigaraki's fingers, his haunted gaze emptier than empty. It was beyond distant; as if it had been reflected infinitely between facing mirrors, until it was no longer his own. "I know I can kill you," he whispered, Living Nightmare shifting and ebbing in the air around him, dark pulses that twisted and contorted into cutting wires, "and that's what I'm really afraid of."

Chapter 21: unveiling hands that twist wires

Chapter Text

Silence pressed in around Izuku like the crushing tide, a vise grip that wrung the breath out of his shriveling lungs. His heartbeat echoed behind his temples, a feeble organ gushing blood that had already frozen over in his veins. His vision was fuzzing over, filled with bursts of static that ate all the color in the world. Living Nightmare thrummed under his skin and bled from his silhouette, the antithesis of a chalk marked outline (the dark presence of a killer, death an ultimatum in motion instead of a snapshot of tragedy).

He stared blankly forward at the villains eyeing him up, Shigaraki stood in place despite his earlier enthusiasm. Hesitation shone through his obscuring palm, his posture tensed with both caution and agitation. Izuku could understand. He didn't want to move either.

"..You're bluffing, aren't you," Shigaraki hissed, scratching the sores on his neck in slow, deliberate motions. "Just trying to buy time, keep us guessing until someone shows up to save you. You know you're not strong enough to fight us. You look like the type to have constitution as your dump stat." Shigaraki tore his hand away from his throat, blood crusted deep under his fingernails. "Unfortunately for you, we've got a carry. Noumu."

The (Izuku idly reassessed its height in comparison to himself, Shigaraki, and Kurogiri-it was at least ten feet tall, if not larger, and its body mass was absolutely ludicrous) misshapen monster snapped to attention, its eyes rolling in its head before focusing on its master. Aizawa hung limp in its meaty grasp, and Izuku couldn't be sure if he was breathing or not. His own breathing stopped the moment Shigaraki leveled a finger in his direction, the Noumu slowly turning until he was in its sights. "Kill him."

Izuku had no time to blink, had no time to breathe, had no time to consider or analyze or plan out his next move. In a fraction of a second, every fear in his chest collided in horrible frisson, a nuclear reaction that left its waste burning behind his teeth like boiling ink. He could taste copper, distantly, as if recalling a memory of having cut his tongue, or putting a penny in his mouth. He could remember his body jerking and twisting as if under another's power, limbs pulled by gouging wires. He could recall the approach of the Noumu, a freight train of bulging muscle and asphalt flesh that moved faster than any human eye could perceive. He remembered its fist, large enough to encompass his entire torso, and the shrieking noise it made as it tore through air particles too slow to move out of its way.

And he could remember meeting it with his own fist, shaped by subconscious recollections of countless hours of pro hero footage, the result of feverishly studying their movements, their forms, their techniques. His arm had been consumed by black fumes, a thunderhead condensed into an artillery shell. And in the present he could feel the spatter of hot blood coating the front of his body, its sickening warmth soaking through his uniform and trickling down his face. The Noumu's arm was the source, being as it had been obliterated all the way up to halfway through its bicep, which had been reduced to a stump of oozing flesh giving birth to a jagged stalk of bone.

A few occurrences followed in short succession. The Noumu screeched in its horrible inhuman voice, more a vulture's cry fed through a hundred glitching voice filters than anything suggesting human intelligence. Izuku vomited everything that remained in his stomach, blood mixing with the vile, discolored remnants of his lunch as digestive acids burned the wounds in his mouth. The broken stump of the Noumu's arm began reforming, bone matter and muscle fiber sloshing forward in a river of flesh to replace the lost limb. And Izuku's dissociation was forcibly removed, by way of the Noumu swinging its undamaged arm at him and catching him in a glancing blow.

The force of it barely connecting was enough to send Izuku skipping across concrete like a stone over water, horrible aches and road rashes blossoming in red blooms across his entire body. He collided with the base of one of the trees around the outskirts of the center plaza, the breath forced out of his body in a wheeze when his spine cracked against unyielding bark.

Izuku choked and shuddered in his efforts to draw breath, hysterical panic emerging from the depths of his stomach in all its screaming glory. He could barely think around the typhoon of emotions that flooded his brain, his last few gears missing numerous teeth, barely able to click together anymore. He couldn't.. that monster, that Noumu, he couldn't kill it, couldn't kill ever again-but it was impossibly strong, strong enough to rebound from his punch in seconds and retaliate. Its brainless behavior made him severely doubt his ability to stun it with fear, which left him with very few options.

He needed All Might. All Might was the only person he knew, possibly the only person in the world strong enough to challenge that horrific creature without Living Nightmare. But the villains meant to kill him, surely with the Noumu as their weapon, and then outnumber him when he was distracted. He.. its regeneration was incredibly strong-could he even hope to disable it without killing it completely? He had so little finesse over his Quirk, and the toll it was taking on him was quickly becoming too much to bear-the copper trickling into Izuku's mouth and the shattered edges of his vision could attest to that.

But he hadn't completely dissociated yet. Hadn't lost himself into numbness, hadn't been torn from his flesh and discarded until he was strong enough to limp back into it. If he used his Quirk again, that was surely the fate that would await him. He could lose himself for countless hours, maybe even days. Or he could be lost forever, the price of Living Nightmare his eternal exile from worldly flesh. Dying sounded significantly more pleasant, when Izuku really thought about it.

The decision was inevitably made for him, the Noumu's hulking mass tearing towards him with such power in its strides that it tore up the concrete behind it with each step. Izuku had at least half a moment to reflect-his life for those of his classmates, his teachers, and anyone else the League of Villains could potentially harm. He could live with a trade like that. Or, perhaps not. Izuku's lips twitched into a smile, the last beacon of light he could hope to produce before Living Nightmare ripped him apart. All he had to do was disable the Noumu, keep it occupied long enough for help to arrive. Maybe he could hug his friends, thank them for their support and kindness. Maybe he could apologize to his mother for the countless lies he'd fed her, over and over again. Maybe Kacchan would be proud of him.

Izuku smiled as Living Nightmare ripped through his flesh, his consciousness unmade in an instant.
--
Katsuki Bakugou regained consciousness at the bottom of a fountain, mired in the stink of chlorine and wetted by the sad little puddles that had gathered at the bottom of the concrete basin. He spat up a mouthful of water, his jaw and pretty much the entire rest of his head throbbing with pain. For the moment, he was unable to tell if the moisture dripping down the side of his face was blood or water, but he wasn't particularly concerned.

He forced himself to his feet with a pained grunt, unbalanced by the weight of the explosive arm guard on his right forearm. The scraps of his left gauntlet were likely scattered across the floor somewhere, completely useless after the disintegration. The anger in his chest click-click-clicked until it flared into a bonfire, fueling him with the rage he needed to push through (his overwhelming guilt and pain and resentment the curse of eighteen accusing stares all control slipping away green eyes filled with tears dimmer every time he saw them) the pain in his head.

He vaulted over the side of the fountain, biting down on a reflexive snarl when he saw the backs of Teleport Fuck and Hideous Hand Freak, far enough away that he couldn't hear if they were speaking or not. Scraggly Shit was limp and bleeding about twenty paces away, his chest rising and falling just enough to assure Katsuki that the greasy haired asshole would probably survive.

Dek-Izuku was nowhere to be seen, which made (panicpanicpanic) annoyance the forefront of his twenty different flavors of anger. Alarmingly, the Noumu was somewhere else as well, but its location was easier to gauge. Massive cracks in the concrete (shaped like footprints, holy fuck how strongwas it?) accompanied a trail of blood that was too dark to be Izuku's (he hoped) led off into one of the artificial patches of woods surrounding the fountain.

Katsuki could hardly use the word 'humble' to describe himself, and 'rational' was pretty close behind it. He knew he was strong, knew he probably could absolutely crush everyone in his class with enough effort, but he wasn't blind. That-gross, brainy monster fuck was dangerous. It wasn't a matter of lacking confidence or willpower that made him hesitant to pursue it; it would kill him without a shadow of a doubt.

But if it was after Izuku.. he couldn't just let it kill the snotty little fuck. Not only because he was supposed to be training to be a hero, and a huge part of that was saving people, but because Izuku's death would mean whatever horrible thing was between them would be over.It would be over, but it wouldn't end. Katsuki would be left with the tangle of emotions that bound them, and would have no choice but to let it fester and rot and drag him down. Katsuki couldn't put it to rest alone.

He was left with a choice, and very little time to make it. He still had one full blast in his remaining arm cannon, which meant he could either test his luck in obliterating the two brains of the villains' invasion force, or he could hope it proved strong enough to disable the monster trying to kill Izuku. Katsuki attempted to visualize the look on Hand Fucker's face after having his midsection blown open, tried to force the artificial satisfaction of turning Warpy Shithead into nothing but ashes and embers-but all he could think of was a soft, scarred face screwed up in terror, green eyes void of life, and the stench of blood and nitroglycerin.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck," Katsuki hissed under his breath, his limbs pulling him away from the unaware villains and towards the man made woods, something like embarrassment burning hot in his chest. Izuku would fucking owe him big time. He crept away, quieter than he'd have liked, and momentarily wondered why the villains hadn't gone after Izuku as well.

And then the whole world turned inside out. Katsuki stumbled to his knees as the patch of forest in front of him was obliterated, dozens of pine trees snapped like twigs or otherwise turned to splinters. His muscles turned to stone, useless petrified hunks that anchored him to the earth. Clouds of upset earth and sawdust settled in the wake of the devastation, revealing the hulking mass of the Noumu present at the epicenter. It was soaked in its own blood, countless hair thin gashes in its skin closing up as it shrieked in upset, eyes rolling wildly in their sockets.

What answered it was beyond the constraints of daylight. A thousand voices fused together into a tortured wail rent the air in a shock wave of cacophonous torment, resonating inside the confines of Katsuki's skull. He could barely see through the noise polluting the air, eyes wide and unblinking as he was viciously battered by visual data.

The thing was beyond any words he knew. It was beyond inhuman, beyond terrestrial, beyond the primitive machinations of meat and bone. The closest thing he could even begin to compare it to was a giant sea urchin combined with some long extinct predator; it was composed of grimy, glistening black flesh between which ran cracks of pulsing, blood flushed muscle. It bristled with porous openings, twitching orifices that pulsed around dozens of long, dripping spines. The spines were yellowed in hue, sickly in the manner of bones left to decompose in humid conditions. Its proportions were-lean, in comparison to its overall body mass. Katsuki couldn't say it was sleek, or streamlined; it appeared almost damaged, its internal structure malformed from whatever it might have been intended to look like, most of its weight situated on the right side with its left almost atrophied.

It possessed only a single traditional arm, a bony protrusion about as thick as a lamp post that jutted from where a right shoulder might have existed. It was a stretch of bone and muscle that twisted like a meat hook and ended in ten numerously jointed appendages. Its face (Katsuki assumed it was a face, considering its position on the front of the creature) lacked any real defining features, save for its position at the end of a stumpy neck and the gaping aperture of its mouth, as well as tiny divots set in a ridge at about forehead height. It had no lips to speak of, flesh transitioning seamlessly into the thresher blade teeth of its mesozoic maw. Its teeth lined the sides of its face until they began encroaching on its neck, far enough that opening its mouth would split its head almost completely in half.

It was roughly level height with the Noumu, though it visibly possessed more body mass, most of which bloated its deformed right half. Its lower half ended in a pair of oddly shaped limbs, similarly thin and curved as its one present arm. They folded back over themselves like the legs of an insect, ending in flat feet bearing three short, hooked protrusions on either end. Its skeletal structure kept it low to the ground, and Katsuki numbly realized it would have towered over the Noumu had it stood on its hind legs.

Katsuki had only a single blink to process the utter wrongness of the walking nightmare before he was assaulted with another wave of sound. The Noumu had moved faster than he could track, circling left to take advantage of the other monster's atrophied half, one fist raised in the air to deliver a devastating blow. And the only reason Katsuki knew that was because the Noumu was locked in place, speared through a dozen times over by the six foot long spines protruding from the nightmare's back. A little over half still remained locked in flesh, the rest having separated and skewered the Noumu completely, wicked barbs cutting through its flesh and keeping it suspended in mid air. They remained attached to the creature by lengths of sinewy tissue fused to the base of each spine, long and thin like organic wires.

Katsuki swallowed a bile soaked knot in his throat when the Noumu was ripped apart in a spray of viscera, its limbless torso thudding into the dirt and vibrating as its arms and legs began growing back. Maybe, he considered faintly, deaf to the enraged shrieks of Shigaraki and the unsure timbre in Kurogiri's responses, he was in over his head.
--
All Might reached out to place a reassuring palm on young Iida's shoulder, his student's costume gleaming in the sunlight and his eyes frantic behind his glasses. The pull of One For All felt like a vacuum in his limbs, slowly siphoning what little strength he'd regained after his morning commute. "Young Iida, I thank you for your courage in this perilous situation. I promise you, I will do everything in my power to ensure everyone's safety. Please, make your way to the main campus and alert the rest of the faculty for me."

"Y-yes sir, of course! Thank you, sir!" Iida adjusted his posture until it was ramrod straight, his determination shining through brilliantly. The moment All Might removed his hand the boy was off like a bullet, kicking up a trail of dust on the path back to U.A.'s main campus.

All Might sucked in a breath a moment later, bracing himself in a sprinter's stance before he burst through the air in a single leap, wincing as even that small portion of his power drained away his remaining time. So stupid, he was so stupid-in what world was it appropriate for him to shirk his duties as an educator, just to feel good about himself by stopping petty crimes? He had to do better, had to be more vigilant; his prime was long eclipsed, and his power was only a shadow of what it once had been. Without a successor, he had to ration it carefully, use it only when it was absolutely necessary.

A successor.. his list of possible recipients was dreadfully sparse and incredibly unsure, only two faces really calling out to him. Lumillion, also known as Mirio Togata, was a prime candidate. The absolute peak of his third year peers, in possession of both a shining, heroic spirit and a Quirk that, when combined with One For All, would make him nigh invincible-but for a reason All Might himself didn't understand, it just didn't feel right.

The other face belonged to a boy who wore suffering like a second skin. Izuku Midoriya had a heart fit to bursting with compassion and selflessness, but the burden he carried seemed too heavy for All Might to so callously dump another onto him. What sort of hero would he be, if he forced the weight of the world on a child that could hardly stand under his own power?

Perhaps he was simply selfish, greedily hoarding the dying embers of One For All in the delusional hope that one day it might burn brightly once more. Perhaps the shining light of The Symbol of Peace had burned blind spots into him, left him complacent and unwilling to face the possibility of his retirement.

Perhaps the final day had already arrived, and he was simply marching to his own demise. It would be a suiting death, he supposed: going out in a blaze of glorious justice, saving the lives of others one final time. It would be a hero's death.

All Might dug a groove into the concrete when he landed outside the entrance to the USJ, the massive metal doors cracked open just enough for a teenager to slip through. The thought of young Iida's panic and desperation filled him with a cold fury, and he used it to satiate the siphon of One For All. He wrenched the doors open in a screech of metal, reinforced steel crumbling like wet clay under his grip.

The entrance was crowded with a smattering of students, whom All Might swiftly counted (Ashido, Uraraka, Sero, Shouji, Sato-still fourteen unaccounted for) before he was struck by the sight of Thirteen, presumably unconscious within their damaged suit. "I couldn't help but be suspicious when neither Thirteen nor Aizawa returned my calls," he began, voice thick with barely contained anger, "and that was confirmed when I happened upon young Iida on my way over, and he told me of the evil that was taking place."

All Might cursed himself for his stupidity, wishing he could simply undo his mistake and prevent the attack altogether-but his only choice was to ensure the safety of his students and colleagues, to let them know The Symbol of Peace had arrived. "Have no fear, students," he bellowed, his voice carrying through the facility and his teeth gritted in a scowl, "FOR I AM HERE."

The five students gathered at the top of the stairs eyed him with the same hopeful relief he had seen a thousand times before (security, safety, the belief that everything would finally be okay), but it was not all he saw in their eyes. There was trepidation as well, a caution born strong enough to weather his justice.

Shouji approached him slowly, his arms pulled tightly together. Sato and Sero exchanged a worried glance behind him, while Ashido and Uraraka stayed put at Thirteen's side. "Sir, something is very wrong, something other than the villains." He paused, as if unsure if he should continue, and All Might struggled to contort his face into a blinding grin to reassure him. His student raised a single arm, gesturing towards the main plaza of the facility. "I've been monitoring the locations of everyone, after we were separated by a warping villain. Most everyone is located in one of the disaster zones. Bakugou, Midoriya, and Mr. Aizawa are in the center. Mr. Aizawa is-badly injured," Shouji nearly tripped over the words, before he forced his way through them. "Bakugou is conscious. Midoriya-the villains have a monster they mean to kill you with. It attacked him."

All Might's smile turned strained, teeth gritting and muscles shifting from his impatience to undo the damage wrought upon his students. He opened his mouth to thank young Shouji for his information, only for the boy to continue speaking. "There's.. something else, down there. Something... something terrible. It appeared, and I could no longer hear Midoriya. It was so loud I couldn't keep listening." Uraraka visibly fought back further tears, leaning on Ashido for support.

All Might made deliberate eye contact with young Shouji, pumping reassurance into his grin. "Thank you for the heads up, young man. Please, watch over your friends, and leave everything to me. I've got this!" He flashed a thumbs up brimming with well practiced confidence, rocketing towards the center plaza with One For All screaming in his veins. The wind whipped past him in a man made hurricane, strong enough to stun the battered looking thugs gathered outside the plaza. He made short work of them, focused more on reading the situation than the well practiced motions of his body.

The thugs themselves looked like small fries, the sort to be found robbing convenience stores and holding up old ladies with pocket knives. It would have been insulting if it wasn't such a relief. If that was the quality of the invasion force, then his students would likely be able to best them. But the ring leaders (Shadowy villain capable of flight and high speeds, in possession of a warping Quirk, villain covered in hands, Quirk unknown, large monster with purple-black skin exposed brain and inhuman mouth, Quirk unknown-he'd have to commend young Iida later for his monumentally helpful recollection and deliverance of important information) likely proved a much larger threat, if Aizawa and Thirteen had been unable to detain them.

The thought of Bakugou and Midoriya trapped within the grasp of such dangerous villains stoked the fear behind his grin, and intensified the righteous fury in his gut. He launched himself towards the center plaza, tearing through a blur of trees and emerging in front of a large fountain. Two of the villains he'd been warned of came into his sights, so distracted by something else that they didn't even see him coming. Bakugou was on the far side of the fountain, visibly shaken by something he was watching in the tree line. Aizawa was barely visible over the lip of the fountain, lying limply in a pool of his own blood. All Might wasted no time in charging towards the villains, his arms drawn back for a devastating Carolina Smash-

All Might reared back when a swirling mass of darkness opened in front of him, a massive body soaked in blood emerging from it a moment later at an outrageous speed. He barely ducked out of the way in time, glancing back to catch sight of a limbless torso and an exposed brain before something else came from the warp gate as well. He dashed to the side, eyes widening at the sight of the beast screaming through the darkness, its maw opened in a head splitting shriek that made his entire body tremble. It blitzed past him, three limbs skidding across concrete as it launched itself towards the regenerating mass of blood soaked muscle.

The creature with the exposed brain screeched, digging its barely formed heels into the concrete to counteract its momentum, one skinless arm raising to cram itself into the other monster's mouth. Half a dozen quills dug into the creature's thick shoulder, forcibly ripping off the offending arm.

"What the hell's going on here?!" All Might hissed, unable to tear his eyes away from the dismembering abomination, its wails so loud that they made it hard for him to think. Shouji had said that Midoriya went silent at the same time as something new had appeared, so loud that he was unable to hear it without hurting himself. He'd also said that Midoriya was under attack by the villains' monster before losing track of him. Electric blue eyes widened as the unthinkable occurred to him, a realization that he couldn't possibly believe-

"All Might," the villain covered in hands shrieked, his voice ragged and thin with hysterical anger. "You trash, you trash, you human fucking garbage! You call us the villains, you call US the villains with a thing like that as a student?! I'll kill you, and I'll kill him, and I'll make sure everyone knows what you really are-"

All Might stared, locked in a numb epiphany, as the wailing aberration ceased violently dismembering the struggling body underneath it. It used its single crooked hand to grab a barely formed femur, rearing back on its folded hind legs and lifting the shrieking monster clear off the ground. It flung the blood soaked body through the air, concrete crumbling like ash from the sheer force of its landing, a hundred meters away. His heart hammered in his chest when the living nightmare turned to stare at him with its eyeless face, silent and still and drenched with viscera. And then his pounding pulse skipped a beat when it erupted in a flash of roiling darkness, leaving behind the limp, injured body of Izuku Midoriya.

Chapter 22

Chapter Text

Eijirou Kirishima, not for the first time in his life, and certainly not for the last, was vividly struck with the thought that he shouldn't have bothered getting out of bed that morning. The last ringing shrieks of Midoriya's Quirk (what kind of Quirk could even do that) died in his ears, the air around him settling once it was no longer disturbed by the jagged vibration of disturbed particles. He'd been left sighing in relief when himself, Asui, and Mineta had escaped the Shipwreck Zone, and a few moments later he'd been left wishing his Quirk could harden his lungs, so he'd at least have a little breath left in them.

His earlier bravado and reassurances felt like a lifetime ago, his (stealthy)rallying cry to come to the aid of his classmates having been eviscerated by skin crawling fear. It was like his flesh had become a seperate entity, desperate to yank its way off his body and escape the utterly alien grotesqueness of Izuku Midoriya ripping a giant, hideous monster apart, over and over and over again. Eijirou had wanted to run, to hide, to close his eyes until it was over and he could pretend things weren't what they were-just like he used to be, a coward too weak to live up to his own spouted ideals.

The spell of numb silence had been broken by the appearance of All Might, a beacon of hope in the cold, bleak despair that had draped around him. The Symbol of Peace was more intimidating and awe inspiring than Eijirou had ever seen before, a mountain of a man that moved faster than he could blink. The sight of a dozen thugs eating pavement in a split second gave him heart palpitations, his admiration and respect for The Number One Hero soaring with every second.

But that spirit hadn't lasted long, quelled and suppressed by the screaming, animal fear in his chest when Midoriya and the Noumu had come tumbling out of the warp gate, the stench of blood nauseating and the orchestra of ripping flesh and shattering bones overwhelming. But the moment that alien flesh melted away, leaving behind the battered body of his friend, a boy so heartrendingly kind and desperate to help others that he couldn't even help himself-

Eijirou would not run. Fear wouldn't stop him, it wouldn't hold him hostage when he could make a difference. Leaving his friend in danger-that was a regret he couldn't possibly live with. "Asui, Mineta, go help Mr. Aizawa! I've got Midoriya!" He wasted no further time in bursting from the patch of woods they'd been hidden in, his skin Hardening into stone in case of any unexpected attacks. He sprinted across the stretch of plaza, tunnel vision locked on the frail form of Midoriya, teeth gritted when he heard a screech from the Noumu.

It was regenerating extremely slowly, its arms barely more than stumps gushing blood and only one leg even close to half formed. Its eyes rolled wildly, constantly unfocusing and refocusing on Midoriya. Eijirou couldn't believe how messed up it was, after how terrifying it'd appeared before. It was definitely still unsettling, but seeing how easily it had been torn apart had dulled his fear. Either it wasn't as tough as it looked, or Midoriya was..

Eijirou dropped to his knees to slide the rest of the distance to Midoriya, listening with half an ear when All Might's voice rose in a thunderous shout. "You've been defeated, villains! Your weapon is in shambles, and your forces thoroughly routed! Give up now, while you still have the chance!" Eijirou shivered at the righteous fury in the hero's voice, silently hopeful that he'd never end up on the receiving end of that kind of intensity.

He gently turned Midoriya over onto his back, heart dropping at the sight of glassy green eyes, staring wide and unblinking at the ceiling. His chest still rose and fell with steady breaths, and Eijirou couldn't see any signs of significant wounds on him, save for the bruising on his face and the blood crusted in the corners of his mouth. The front of his gym uniform was soaked in blood, however, the material likely stained beyond repair with dark, oozing crimson. He felt nauseous at the sight of it, but pushed on through his discomfort.

Eijirou gently slid his arms under Midoriya's knees and upper back, struck by how easy it was to lift his classmate. He hoisted the limp body, adjusting Midoriya until the dead weight settled more easily in his arms, and glanced over to where he'd seen Mr. Aizawa and Bakugou. He breathed a sigh of relief at the sight of the explosive blond helping Asui carry their teacher with stiff, awkward movements. He really couldn't say he knew anything about the guy (other than his extreme temper and dislike of Midoriya), but Eijirou really didn't want to believe he was responsible for betraying them to the villains.

He'd always tried his best to see the good in others, a staunch believer in the inherent goodness present in every person. Nobody was born evil; there were always other factors at work, unfortunate circumstances turning what could have been good people into damaged, dangerous individuals. Maybe.. maybe that was Bakugou's future, as things stood. If nothing changed, if he was left an outcast brimming with anger, maybe he'd become one of those individuals. As much as Eijirou knew his own anger was justified, considering his friend's scarred countenance, it wouldn't be healthy to hold onto. Midoriya's desperate defense of Bakugou was telling, either of Bakugou's character or Midoriya's mental health. Either way, the only choice he could make in good conscious was to support his friend, whether that meant tolerating Bakugou or helping to disarm their volatile relationship.

But first he had to make sure they made it out of the situation alive. He backpedaled to create distance from the villains and their monster, pausing only when All Might caught his eye. He swallowed a lump when the hero flashed him a thumbs up and a grin, swallowing down his hero worship. "Well, what's it going to be? Will you come quietly, or will I have to subdue you myself?" All Might's tone straddled the line between professional and hostile, his immense distaste for the villains seeping through. The hand guy looked visibly agitated, one hand scratching deep grooves into his throat while the other clenched at his own face, shoulders heaving with raspy breaths.

"Shigaraki," the warping villain began in a warning tone, his smoke flaring out in tiny pulses, "we've been bested. Victory will wait until another day." All Might visibly tensed at the words, legs locking to propel him forwards-

A screaming Noumu emerged from a warp gate opened directly in the hero's face, its limbs still caught in the process of regeneration. However, its massive snapping mouth was still completely capable of doing damage, and Eijirou winced when its teeth caught on All Might's shoulder before he could dodge out of the way, a gash opening in his upper arm. Another warp gate caught Eijirou's eye, alarm forcing words past his lips even as he registered the situation. "All Might, they're getting away!" His cry rang out, prompting All Might to blitz past the closing warp gate in pursuit of the villains in mid teleport. His fingertips just barely grazed a well of shadows, before they winked out of existence entirely. He whirled around just in time to see the Noumu fall through a similar portal, its limbless torso pulled through the shadows.

"Damn," All Might hissed, turning slowly from the spot the villains had once occupied. Eijirou could empathize; the anticlimax left him with a sour taste in his mouth, knowing that the villains whom had caused so much suffering managed to simply escape without anyone able to stop them. Eijirou perked up when All Might caught his gaze again, the hero's chiseled features lined with weariness. "I thank you for your bravery, young Kirishima. And young Asui and Mineta, as well. I'd like you all to regroup at the main entrance-I'll handle the injured from here."

Eijirou vaguely heard Mineta complain about Mr. Aizawa bleeding all over the place before All Might relieved him of Midoriya's slight weight, pensive thought bleeding in with the hero's weariness. "A-are the rest of the teachers gonna be here soon?" Eijirou questioned, hands falling to his sides.

"Should only be a minute or two, now," All Might replied, shifting Mr. Aizawa's weight from Asui and Mineta to cradle the man in the crook of his arm. "Stay with your classmates, alright? The teachers will gather everyone missing and detain these criminals until the police arrive." Eijirou reflexively squeezed his eyes shut when the hero took off, the burst of wind he left in his wake making the loose fabric of his costume flap loudly. He stared long after All Might had left his sight, wondering why he didn't feel relieved.
--
Izuku Midorya opened his eyes at the same moment his consciousness was rebuilt, ten thousand shards of stained glass painstakingly pieced back together into a whole image. His senses trickled into place, one by one, the sight of a speckled white ceiling and the fragrance of antiseptic mixed with lavender air freshener mingling together. Warmth crept slowly outwards from his core, fingers and toes tingling as he flexed them underneath crisp white sheets.

His left arm faintly stung when he shifted it, and Izuku managed to blearily turn his head and register the IV inserted into the inside of his elbow. Oh, he was in the nurse's office again. The lack of fog obscuring his thoughts pointed to a distinct lack of painkillers in his drip, so he assumed it must have been saline and nothing else. Electrolytes were good. Izuku appreciated them. His IV stand was tucked close to the wall, which meant he was in the far corner of the room, instead of closest to the entrance.

Izuku blinked slowly and yawned, idly licking the back of his teeth. They tasted sour and fuzzy, which brought a grimace to his face. He was so sure he'd remembered to brush that morning. He'd just brush extra hard later. He faintly registered a steady beeping sound, coming from his right. Whatever happened must have been fairly serious, if he'd been hooked up to an EKG. That was mildly alarming, but he was still unable to place the incident responsible.

Izuku yawned again, eyes reflexively shut as he wriggled around onto his other side, numb cheek pressing into the pillow case underneath him. His vision refocused from the smear of colors it had fuzzed into, coalescing into the stiff, glaring form of Katsuki Bakugou, sat on the edge of a chair just to the right of Izuku's bed. He didn't dare to blink, staring into molten red depths in quiet bewilderment."K..Kacchan?"

Kacchan blinked once, and that was enough to break Izuku from his spellbound daze. His consciousness situated itself with a 'click' that unleashed a grimy black deluge, raw memories crashing into Izuku as a single entity. His eyes blew wide, breath catching hard in his chest as his anxiety spiked from 'minimal' all the way up to 'absolutely unable to cope'. He sucked in a rattling breath, desperate to intake oxygen before his insides collapsed and imploded, pupils constricting with blind panic-

"Hey, fucking calm down, idiot!" Kacchan hissed under his breath, his irritation back lit by a flash of alarm. "Nobody got hurt except you and Aizawa, and that grimy fuck is recovering, so fucking put a lid on the waterworks for one goddamn second!"

Izuku pressed his fingers over his mouth to stifle a miserable whine, eyes wide and glossy with tears just aching to fall. He mumbled a mostly incoherent apology, shrinking into the mattress under the weight of Kacchan's gaze. Everything, Kacchan had seen everything, hadn't he? He could hardly recall what horrors he had committed, what destruction he had wreaked, and the pain of ignorance throbbed under his skull. He slowly peeled his fingers away, spikes of white hot panic melting into despair. "Y-y-you s-saw, d-didn't you?" His words crumbled in the air, voice thin and reedy with crushing defeat. It was over. It was over.

"Of course I fucking saw, you maniac," Kacchan hissed, the heat in his voice forcing Izuku to flinch away or risk being scalded. "What the fuck is wrong with you? You are seriously the most fucked up person I've ever met. You're so goddamn stupid it makes me want to rip my own fucking head off and punt it into the sun, you shit sucking fuck stick!" Kacchan's voice battered him with painful clarity, each word gouging deeper the emptiness in Izuku's chest. But he knew it was what he deserved, knew it was inevitable, knew everything was his fault- "Why didn't you tell anyone? Why didn't you get help?!"

Izuku locked up, all his internal processes frozen in disbelief as the indomitable paradigm of Kacchan and Deku was turned to powder in two sentences. "I-I... y-y-you, w-what do you-mean?" Izuku's tongue tied itself into a useless, soaking knot, drooling words he hadn't even taken a single moment to think through.

And they were clearly the wrong ones, judging by the harsh slant of Kacchan's eyebrows and the bubbling heat in his gaze. "What the fuck do you think I mean, idiot? Apparently I overestimated how much of a brainy little shit you were, because that's the dumbest fucking drivel that's ever spilled outta your mouth. What kinda dipshit fucking keeps that shit a secret? Newsflash, asshole-Quirk counselling exists for a goddamn reason! But no, poor crybaby Izuku just had to play fucking masochistic martyr for ten goddamn years because he's too much of a pants-on-head drooling moron to realize that the worst possible thing to do with a destructive Quirk is not fucking tell anyone about it!"

Distantly, Izuku admired Kacchan's ability to keep his voice low enough to not disturb the quiet of the nurse's office (especially because it was after dark, judging by the lack of light peering through the closed blinds) whilst still infusing each word with enough force to feel like hammer blows. He swallowed a mouthful of confusion, half wishing he could sink into the mattress completely and disappear. "W-why-I-I know i-it's stupid, t-t-that's not what I m-meant to a-ask. I..." Izuku shivered and squeezed his eyes shut, blood cold and thick in his veins even as his heart pounded wildly off rhythm. "W-why are you here, Kacchan? Why.. why do you care?"

A long moment of silence passed, seconds oozing in grimy trails where all Izuku could hear was his own unstable breathing. It went on so long that he peeked open one eye, unsure of why Kacchan hadn't-screamed, or blown his head up, or something. Instead of murderous, he looked... unsure. Izuku considered him in a dazed stupor, unsure if he had ever seen Kacchan left speechless by something so mundane as a question.

"...It's not like I want you dead, you fucker. Sure, you piss me off so much I can hardly breathe sometimes, but that-I didn't mean to-" Kacchan cut himself off with a snarl, teeth gritting together in frustration. "You read the fucking letter. You know how I feel about what happened. It was a mistake. I-" Kacchan snapped his mouth closed, annoyance shining clear through his expression. He visibly started, however, at the sound of a muffled sob leaving Izuku's lips. "The fuck are you crying about now?"

Izuku sniffled and hiccuped, tears streaming uncontested down his cheeks. He pulled his lips into as wide a smile as he could, the right side of his mouth a little stiffer than the left. "I-I'm j-j-just so h-happy you don't hate me, Kacchan," he half-sobbed, unable to wipe away the elation in his grin even as Kacchan grew increasingly alarmed looking. "A-and-and I'm s-sorry I used m-my Quirk on you, y-you didn't deserve it. I wa-was just so sure you h-hated me, but.. b-but-" Izuku choked out a sob, his chest singing and heaving and hemorrhaging as it swelled with an unending swirl of emotion that he was unable to contain.

"Shut the fuck up you blubbering idiot," Kacchan muttered, the heat in his voice died down to a tepid simmer. "I swear to god if you keep acting sappy I'll push your ass out the damn window."

Izuku laughed without restraint, squeaky and embarrassing and absolutely necessary. He flushed up to his ears and slapped a hand over his mouth when Kacchan skewered him with a glare, mumbling an apology into his fingers. He wiped away the trail of tears that had slowed to a trickle, sniffling to clear his airways. "U-uhm.. so what happened? After I.. l-lost coherence, I mean."

"All Might showed up after you started tearing that Noumu thing apart," Kacchan began dispassionately, not looking directly at Izuku. "Your Quirk deactivated and you passed out like a wuss while All Might tried to force the villains to surrender. Red Hair Fuck, Frog Freak, and Disgusting Grape showed up to help me drag Aizawa and your dumb ass out of danger. The villains managed to get away, but their monster's shit was so wrecked it couldn't regenerate. All the other teachers showed up, they stuck Greasy Fucknut in the hospital and dumped you here, where you've been out cold for three goddamn days you lazy fuck-"

"W-wait, what?!" Izuku yelped, jerking up to sit ramrod straight in bed. "T-Three days?! O-oh my god I w-was out for th-three days-I was in a coma?! Oh god my m-mom's probably lost her mind no wonder I'm on the EKG and IV without having sustained serious injuries oh gosh I c-can't believe-"

"Holy shit, would you fucking shut up for like two seconds?!" Kacchan barked, voice raised just on the cusp of 'louder than conversational'. "Stop freaking out, you shitty nerd, I swear you lose your damn mind like thirty fucking times a day. Your mom's been here practically twenty four seven, so you already missed the freak out. She left like an hour ago to pick up clothes and shit for you. Also your dumb ass friends are sleeping in the waiting room, so keep your damn voice down, it's like eleven at night you inconsiderate fuck."

"S-sorry," Izuku squeaked, head bowed under the weight of Kacchan's reprimands. Oddly enough they didn't feel hostile, the way all their interactions had been for years and years. The anger in Kacchan's voice was still present (the only times Kacchan didn't sound angry were when he sounded boastful), but it was.. different. It wasn't directed towards him in ire and disgust. Izuku's heart fluttered hopefully, and he cleared his throat before speaking more calmly. "I.. y-you said my friends are in the lobby-who's all here?"

"All of 'em, obviously," Kacchan sneered, crossing one leg over the other. "Round Face, Stupid Glasses, Bird Guy, and Red Hair Idiot. Recovery Girl wouldn't let them drag a couch back here, so they're in the lobby; your fucking menagerie of morons."

"O-oh." Izuku smiled so hard it hurt at the knowledge that his friends had been so willing to wait for him, his vision a little misty. "U-uhm.. why are you back here, Kacchan? I-instead of in the lobby, I mean."

"Because I can't stand those idiots?" Izuku received a roll of red eyes that let him know exactly how stupid Kacchan found his question.

"S-so.. you waited in here w-with me instead?" Izuku's voice cracked halfway through his sentence, his eyes wide and glimmering.

"Fuck you, I know exactly what you're getting at, shithead," Kacchan growled, expression twisting into a scowl of legitimate annoyance. "Don't fucking get a big head-we're not friends, got it? So quit fucking pushing your luck. Pisses me off." He tore his gaze away the moment Izuku's expression fell.

"S-sorry, I.. I didn't m-mean to..." Izuku trailed off into an indistinct whisper, sinking a little further into the pillow propping him up. He would have chastised himself for overstepping his boundaries, but the tiny scraps of courage he clung to persuaded him to take a different approach. "D..do you t-think we ever could be?" He forced himself not to flinch when molten red eyes turned to scrutinize him. "F..friends, I mean."

Silence dragged on between them for what felt like eons, Izuku trembling but determined to hold Kacchan's gaze until he earned an answer. Maybe something was wrong with him; most people didn't make a habit of admiring and forgiving their bullies after years of torment, and then asking to be friends. Maybe Izuku was just lonely and obsessive, desperate to reach out to anyone, even his aggressor-but he had to know, had to be sure he wasn't just wasting his time being hopeful.

Kacchan's eyebrows furrowed together in thought, his lips turned down in a frown containing only traces of his normal aggression. His eyes sharpened for a moment when Izuku stared unabashedly at him, and he sighed when green eyes didn't even move. "Fuck if I know. So much bullshit's gone on that at this point anything's possible. Just don't get fucking sappy on me. Got it, Izuku?"

Izuku's insides lit up like a fireworks display, multicolored flashes of positive brilliance that left him tingling in his extremities. He flashed a wide grin, something like bliss surfacing from the stew of his tangled feelings. "Got it." He paused for a moment before something occurred to him, a thought that supercharged his smile into a beacon of light. "Th-thank you for not calling me Deku, b-by the way!"

Kacchan twitched, shock quickly covered by a mask of sneering anger. "What the fuck ever, it's only because my shitty therapist is in cahoots with that fucking greasy haired bastard." His eye twitched erratically when Izuku's smile didn't falter, lips pulling back in a snarl. "Stop fucking smiling at me, asshole, I just told you not to get sappy! I swear I'll fucking cram you headfirst into the wall you crybaby fuckhead-"

Izuku stifled giddy giggles behind a hand, glowing as he was showered with insults that felt like praise. If even Kacchan had forgiven him for what happened, for the person he was and the Quirk he possessed.. then maybe things would work out.

Chapter 23

Chapter Text

Izuku managed a few reluctant hours of sleep after his... (breakthrough? reconciliation?) conversation with Kacchan, settling down once the other boy had practically shoved his head into his pillow. He'd initially planned on taking the eight hours between rest and wakefulness to try and think objectively about his situation and organize his thoughts, but apparently being comatose had done little to dislodge his sleep schedule. His dreams remained far out of his reach, as indistinct as the splotches of color behind his closed eyelids.

Izuku groaned into his pillow the moment his ability to slip back into unconsciousness left his reach, feeling groggy and half aware. It reminded him of long weekends where he'd sleep until mid afternoon and barely be able to drag himself out of bed before sunset, weighed down by the over abundance of unconsciousness. He shifted his legs under the sheets, half wishing to prolong the moment he had to actually wake up and face the day.

Unfortunately the day had no desire to wait until he was ready, forcing him to face it in the form of a foot slamming into the side of his bed, rattling the metal frame and Izuku's skull as a result. "Wake up, asshole! How much damn sleep do you need? Your mom's here so stop fucking luxuriating already!"

Izuku shot up in bed, clutching at his ringing head as a whine slipped past his lips. "S-sorry, sorry, I-I'm up," he babbled frantically, partially trying to remember where he was and what was going on and also why Kacchan was right next to him when he was sleeping that was kind of alarming and embarrassing-

"Izuku, honey? Are you awake?" Izuku jumped in shock, peering around a sneering Kacchan to spy his mother's worried expression peering through the curtain separating him from the rest of the nurse's office. He had half a moment to meet her gaze and allow guilt to well up in his chest before she'd closed the distance, capturing most of his upper torso in a crushing hug. When she spoke again her voice was hitching with oncoming tears, a sound that left Izuku feeling like all his insides had been scooped out. "Oh sweetie, I'm so glad you're awake! I was so worried, I didn't know if.."

Izuku stifled a full body eruption at the warmth of tears on his shoulder, frantically cramming down his endless tide of remorse and slapping on what was meant to be a reassuring smile. "M-mom, it's okay, I-I'm fine now really please don't w-worry-"

His mother eventually pulled away amidst his sea of desperate reassurances, her eyes wet but her smile full of relief. "I'm alright, sweetheart, don't worry. I just needed to air some things out." She pressed a kiss to the crown of his head, and Izuku flushed a violent red when he remembered Bakugou was still in the room. "The specialist said you were unconscious from an overuse of your Quirk. Please promise to be more careful, sweetie."

All the color in Izuku's face drained away, his smile falling in great heaving chunks until it was left looking postmortem. His mother's tone had been reproachful and loving, but the same quiet melancholy he'd seen more and more evidence of had peered through the cracks. He swallowed a lump of scorching lead, voice shuddering out of him in a pile of barely living syllables. "Y...y-you knew, didn't you?"

His mother's smile was softened by the weathering of time, a thing older and sadder than he had any context to understand. "I've known for a long time, Izuku. I didn't know what your Quirk was, but it was impossible not to see how much it was hurting you."

"I-I'm sorry," Izuku croaked, his throat tight and his eyes burning with hot, bitter tears. "I'm sorry, I sh-shouldn't have lied to you, I-I'm sorry I'm sorry-" His voice broke off into jagged shards, red hot shrapnel that left behind blackened gouges. He pressed his face into his mother's shoulder, shoulders shaking with the monumental effort of keeping him whole. He wasn't even standing but it felt like his legs would give out, every piece of him unhinged and barely kept from springing apart by sheer willpower.

"I'm sorry you ever felt like you needed to lie to me, sweetie," his mother murmured, somehow still composed. "It's true that you shouldn't have lied, Izuku. But I made a mistake in not pushing you to open up more." He could feel the regret twined around her words, a pain that resonated from her until its echo lived within him.

"I-I'm sorry," he repeated ad infinitum, feeling rote and useless but unsure of what else he could possibly say to make up for what he'd done. "I-I won't lie to you again. I promise. I-I love you, mom," he whispered, his throat clogged with emotion. Despite having lied to her for years about his Quirk, Izuku had never been able to hide how he felt around his mother.

"I love you too, sweetheart," she said more into his hair than the open air, squeezing him around the shoulders before ending the embrace. He was immediately struck by the retreat of his mother's warmth, struck with the yearning to chase after its threads. "Just be more careful for me, okay?"

"I-I will. Promise." Izuku sighed out a soft breath, his shoulders losing tension as some of the weight rested on them was relieved. He'd managed to complete two of his last desires (perhaps one and a half, he amended at the thought of Kacchan's strange not-quite-hostility) and the prospect of tackling the third left him trembling with bashful nerves. He certainly hadn't been closed off with his friends (if his numerous mortifying emotional crises were anything to go by), but being absolutely frank with them about how much he appreciated their support and initiating physical contact sounded.. intimidating. Maybe he could just quietly bake them pastries and make cards, or something-

"We're going to be heading home soon, sweetie," his mother interrupted his thoughts, her demeanor much brighter than it had been a few moments ago. "The police just need a statement from you about what happened, and All Might wanted to speak with you. But before that, I think you have some visitors that wanted to see you!" His mother's face lit up with an elation he'd only caught glimpses of, whenever he talked offhandedly about his friends.

Izuku had roughly four seconds to mentally and emotionally prepare himself for his third sure-to-be extremely emotional conversation since waking up from a three day coma after a near death experience at the hands of murderous villains. Maybe he could take a ten year sabbatical from his education and visit a tropical island, or something. Izuku emerged from a slightly bittersweet fantasy about sleeping on a Caribbean beach when the curtain parted, allowing Kirishima, Uraraka, Iida, and Tokoyami to file through.

Izuku was immediately struck by how disheveled his friends looked. Kirishima's hair was a flat mop on his head, bright red spikes hanging in messy strands from a lack of product. Uraraka looked like she'd fallen out of a moving vehicle, her clothing uneven and her hair sticking up on one side where she'd clearly failed to brush it. Iida's shirt was vaguely wrinkled, which Izuku had realized was the equivalent of his friend spending three months stranded on a deserted island, and Tokoyami.. actually looked fine. He was about as well kempt and impassive as he usually was, but maybe Izuku just didn't understand the nuances of proper feather hygiene.

"H-hey guys-" Izuku managed to eek out, before the breath was forcibly expelled from him by the force of Uraraka's hug crushing his ribs. The rest of his planned greeting was flattened into a wheeze, and he had to settle with awkwardly patting Uraraka's back with his fingertips.

"I'm so glad you're okay, Izuku!" She cried, bringing his rapid thought processes to a screeching halt when she peered at him with wide, shimmering eyes. She'd looked unkempt just walking in, but the concern and remorse mingling on her face made her a wreck. "When Shouji said that villain monster was going after you, I-" Her voice hitched, and Izuku's head immediately blared with alarms.

"I-I'm really s-sorry for worrying you, b-but I'm fine, its okay-" he clamped his mouth shut when Uraraka's gaze hardened with ferocity, tears budding in the corners of her eyes.

"Don't be sorry, Izuku! Stop apologizing for things that aren't your fault! I'm upset because you almost got hurt, not because you did something wrong!" Uraraka's lips trembled, but didn't break the coherence of her determined expression. She squeezed him again, gently enough that he could at least breathe, but firm enough to drive her point home.

"I-I'm-I mean, o-okay," Izuku mumbled, unsure of what exactly he could say when he was disallowed from apologizing. He returned Uraraka's embrace a little more confidently, flushing up to his ears when she pulled away with a beaming smile. "H-how long have you guys b-been here?" If anyone noticed his voice crack during his desperate attempt to change the subject, they at least didn't mention it.

"Since like, Saturday afternoon," Kirishima replied, his smile slightly droopy but no less bright. "We all got permission from our parents to hang out here over night, in case you woke up. My folks were pretty reluctant at first, but All Might helped wear 'em down. So yeah, basically since then. All Might came in a few times, and your mom was in and out a lot. Tsuyu came by yesterday, too. I think Iida has a card from her-oh, and Bakugou was here like, since Friday I think. He just kinda disappeared after the police cleared all the 'traitor' stuff up so I guess he came here-"

"Shut the fuck up, Shitty Hair!" Bakugou snarled, the mention of his name enough to pull him away from the window he'd been brooding loudly at. His eyes narrowed at the exact same rate Izuku's widened, a trembling grin and budding tears met with a ferocious twist of his lips. "STOP LOOKING AT ME LIKE THAT, ASSHOLE!"

"He was a lot quieter when you were asleep," Kirishima spoke over him brightly, Tokoyami mumbling in annoyance at Bakugou's volume. "He only yelled like five times I think."

"W-wow," Izuku gushed, disbelief twining with the amazement in his tone, "Kacchan isalways yelling. That sounds like he's making progress!" He glossed over Kacchan's shout of 'DON'T TALK ABOUT ME LIKE I'M NOT HERE YOU FUCK' in favor of allowing pride to swell in his chest. "S-so he wasn't.. mean to you guys, w-was he?"

"While I certainly couldn't describe Bakugou as 'pleasant and polite company', his behavior was much more welcoming than in recent days," Iida spoke, calm words cutting right through Bakugou's indistinct yell of rage. "We all spoke at length with him about.. moving forward, I suppose, and offered our apologizes as well, for doubting his loyalty."

"I made sure to let him know that if he ever laid a hand on you again I'd make him float into the upper reaches of the stratosphere," Uraraka chimed in pleasantly, her cheerful tone making a shiver crawl down Izuku's spine. He laughed nervously, eyes darting between her blissful grin and Kacchan's broiling fury.

"FUCK YOU, YOU ROUND FACED BITCH I'LL KICK YOUR ASS RIGHT NOW-"

"Anyway," Kirishima interrupted loudly, plopping himself down on Izuku's bed and forcing a squeak of shock out of him because wow they were sitting really close all of a sudden- "We cleared stuff up with him, and we're pretty much cool now. I can't speak for the rest of the class, but everyone at least knows he wasn't responsible for the whole 'villain attack' thing. Other than that.." Kirishima paused, clearly mulling over whatever words were meant to have come next. "Am I forgetting anything?"

"I believe you were fairly accurate in your recounting, Kirsishima," Iida praised, digging through his pocket to retrieve a pale green card, which Izuku gladly accepted from his friend's stiff grip. "Though perhaps you could have stayed on topic instead of straying into tangents. After all, delivering information in a clear and concise manner is paramount to hero work, both on and off the field!"

Izuku listened with half an ear to Iida's advice, covering his mouth to stifle a squeal when he realized the card was decorated with tiny cartoon frogs. He resisted the urge to look inside right away, stifling a smile when the words 'Don't let life bog you down!' peered up at him from his lap.

He gazed up halfway through Iida's heartfelt speech about the importance of eliminating sentence fragments, struggling to find his voice. "H..hey, uhm, K-Kirishima?" He bit his lip when blood orange eyes turned his way, bright and warm even when they were marred by clear signs of poor sleep. "I.. Kacchan told me you s-saved me, after I passed out. I w-wanted to-uhm-I j-just.." Izuku fumbled through his words, struggling with them for a long moment before he forced his way past the barrier. He leaned forward without hesitation, throwing his arms around a patient Kirishima in an embrace that he hoped could express even a fraction of his gratitude. He could feel the moment of hesitation, Kirishima's arms hovering at his sides before one looped around him in turn. "Th-thank you," he mumbled, his voice run through with a spiderweb of cracks. "T-thank you so much, a-all of you, f-for- for not h-hating me, an-and, being nice to m-me, a-a-and-"

"Hey, hey, calm down, man," Kirishima soothed, one arm firm and warm around Izuku's shoulders. It was only then that he even realized he'd begun crying again, his tumultuous simmer of emotions boiling over in hot trails of tears. "Of course I helped you out, Midoriya. Of course we don't hate you! We're you're friends, which means we support you, okay?"

"Izukuuu," Uraraka practically wailed, throwing herself onto the bed to fling her arms around his midsection. "How could you think we would hate you? You didn't do anything wrong, okay? Nothing that happened was your fault!"

"She's right." Iida stiffly placed a hand on Izuku's shoulder, his posture awkward but his expression softened from its usual sternness. "As friends, we're here to support you not because we have to, but because we want to. We're here to help, whenever you need it."

Izuku swallowed an embarrassing sob, failing to stem the flow of tears. He felt almost consumed by light, something that burned so much brighter than he could have ever managed on his own. His breath hitched when he attempted to speak, to say something that meant so much more than 'thank you'-

"Midoriya," Tokoyami uttered, his arms crossed tightly over his chest. His gaze was sharp and focused, his voice a low, steady hum. "I've done a disservice to you. I made a promise to you that I would aid you in facing the darkness, but I was callous. I did not see to which the depths dark trenches ran, though I needed only to look a little harder. That folly was my own, wholly and utterly. I apologize, for not taking the time to understand how deeply you have been burdened by your plight. It is not a mistake I will make again." Tokoyami bowed in a smooth motion, his remorse a solid presence that bolstered his words instead of dismantling them.

"Y-you don't h-have to be sorry," Izuku croaked, his head spinning and spinning because his only truths were run through with hair thin cracks (fear and misery a distant displeasure instead of the blood in his veins and the marrow in his bones) and he was unable to process it, everything was too much but it didn't hurt, there was only a sweet ache he'd never known, couldn't put a name to-

"Your forgiveness is both humbling and appreciated, but it will not undo my inaction," Tokoyami countered, straightening his posture and staring deep into Izuku's eyes. "You deserve better than paltry half-efforts. What worth does a promise have, if I don't keep it? So while I thank you for your kindness, it does not absolve me. Redemption lies in action, and so further action I shall take to assist you in carrying your burden. You are not alone."

And that was enough. Izuku's first sob ripped free of his chest, so relieved that it burned every inch of him with warmth, something more than the frigid hollowness he'd grown so used to. He spilled words in an endless mantra, born not of fear and disconnect, but of gratitude so deep that Izuku wasn't sure he could ever make it known. "Thank you thank you thank you thank you-"

Chapter 24

Chapter Text

After nearly ten minutes of trying to calm himself down from his umpteenth emotional breakdown, Izuku reluctantly parted ways with his friends as he was discharged from Recovery Girl's care. He changed into a set of clothes his mother had brought him when everyone had left, a pair of well worn track pants and a hoodie that'd gone through the wash so many times that its bright green hue had long dimmed, along with an All Might shirt that swamped him in fabric. Apparently his mother had picked up on what his comfort clothes looked like. He bid a small goodbye to Recovery Girl on the way out, feeling bad that he'd dumped so much work on her in such a short amount of time.

Izuku stepped out of the nurse's office half a step behind his mother, overcome with the strangeness of being on campus during school hours, but not attending classes. "Y-you said the police wanted a statement, right? I-Is Mr. All Might gonna meet us after, o-or will he be there?"

"He asked to meet up with us outside the teacher's lounge once you were discharged. I'm sure it won't take too long, sweetie." Izuku's mother turned to walk them in the direction of the lounge, prompting Izuku to assume she knew where she was going.

"I-I don't mind if it takes a while. I k-know how important it is. I just want to help, i-if I can," Izuku trailed off into a mumble, rubbing the hem of a sleeve between finger and thumb. He honestly was nervous about talking to the police, an illogically hysterical part of him afraid that they'd want to arrest him. Although if they had somehow found out about him killing that slime villain then even if he wouldn't be charged with murder it'd probably still leave a mark on his record that would ruin his chances of being a hero and he'd have to live a life of shame and get left behind by all his friends and settle down in a one bedroom apartment with house plants as his only companions-

"Ah, the Midoriyas! Glad to see you both!" All Might's booming voice filled the hallway, snapping Izuku out of a downward spiral into a world full of wilting plants. He glanced up to smile awkwardly at his teacher, the hero looking as statuesque as his merchandise. He squeaked a little when All Might closed the remaining few feet between them, first shaking his slightly starry eyed mother's hand, and then his own and wow he hadn't realized before but All Might's hands were crazy huge- "I'm relieved to see you recovered, young man! You gave us all quite a scare."

"S-sorry," Izuku blurted reflexively, before he could even attempt to think of a response. He silently reprimanded himself, guilt welling up at the thought of not following Uraraka's advice. Logically, he knew he couldn't just expect all his mannerisms and idiosyncrasies born from a decade of deteriorating mental health to just clear up all at once, but he couldn't help expecting better of himself. Which was probably also an idiosyncrasy born of said mental illness when he really thought about it- "U-uhm-the police w-wanted to speak with me, sir?"

"Indeed! They need a statement from you before the investigation can officially begin. And I'm afraid I have to ask you to stay outside, Mrs. Midoriya. It's nothing personal, but the details of the attack are sensitive information at the moment. I hope you understand." Izuku vaguely wondered how All Might managed to make his grin look apologetic without his face even moving.

His mother's answering smile was a little bit strained, but she nodded her assent. "I understand. Thank you so much for looking out for my son, All Might. He's very lucky to have such a wonderful hero as you for a teacher. He's admired you ever since he was little, running around in an All Might onesie and coming up with hero names-" Inko's nostalgic smile was a death sentence in Izuku's eyes, a sure sign that she'd mortify him endlessly with tales of him as a small child.

"HAHA A-ANYWAY w-wow really g-gotta talk to those n-nice officers love you mom I-I'll try not to take too long hahahaha-" Izuku's nervous laughter left him like the squawks of a bird caught in an oscillating fan, one arm wrapped around his face with the vague desire to pull his own head off and the other scrabbling to simultaneously open the door to the teacher's lounge and frantically signal for the Symbol of Peace to walk through it.

He breathed a sigh of relief when the door finally clicked shut behind him, shoulders sagging as the weight of impending mombarrasment was lifted. The teacher's lounge looked exactly the same as when he'd been in it before (save an extra coffee stain or two, maybe), except for the addition of someone Izuku assumed to be part of the police force.

The officer was extremely plain looking, average almost to the point of absurdity; it'd be nearly impossible for Izuku to pick him out of a crowd. However, his expression radiated polite friendliness, which was enough to set Izuku at ease, at least a little. "Ah, hey All Might. I presume this is Izuku Midoriya?"

"Indeed he is! Young Midoriya here is one of my brightest students; I'm sure he'll be a big help in jump starting the investigation!" Izuku flushed so hard that he felt dizzy at the sound of his hero's praise, nearly stumbling off balance when All Might clapped a hand on his shoulder. All Might's tone hadn't even sounded boastful in the way he'd heard some of his previous teachers talk about exemplary students, as if they were the ones that had made incredible accomplishments. That could only mean All Might was being sincere, which was an emotional revelation that he really couldn't deal with on the same day as like five other emotional revelations-

"I'm sure he will. It's nice to meet you, Mr. Midoriya. I'm detective Tsukauchi, and I just have a few questions for you regarding the incident at the USJ." The detective offered him a hand, and Izuku shook it lightly, attempting to figure out exactly how he was supposed to talk to a police officer.

"I-It's nice to meet y-you too, sir," he uttered meekly, settling stiffly on one of the empty couches when the detective motioned for him to sit. Izuku started when another weight dropped onto the couch beside him, a moment of confusion flitting through him because the detective was across from him and All Might was the only other person in the room, and the displacement was wildly disproportionate to how much his teacher's size and stature-

Izuku squawked in panic when he glanced over at All Might, the hero bone thin and weathered by exhaustion. "A-All Might-t-the detective-he-"

"Hey, don't freak out on me kid, it's fine. Tsukauchi and I go way back, he already knows." Izuku glanced frantically between the detective's patient smile and All Might's unconcerned (if slightly sunken) expression, his heart slowly dislodging itself from his throat.

"S-sorry, I.. uhm. W-what did you want to ask me, sir?" Izuku addressed the detective, whose demeanor dropped from open friendliness to something a little more professional.

"Just a few questions about the incident, as well as the perpetrators. Three of the villains involved in the attack are unaccounted for; one Tomura Shigaraki, Kurogiri, and a creature known only as Noumu. Do you recognize any of those names?"

"S-Shigaraki was the ringleader," Izuku uttered, attempting to navigate his memories without tripping over anything that would send him spiraling into an episode. "Kurogiri served as their transportation, w-with his Warp Quirk. Noumu was.. a-a monster, I think. They meant to kill All Might with it."

Detective Tsukauchi nodded, his handsy busy with offical looking forms and a ballpoint pen. "You were relocated by Kurogiri's Quirk into the central plaza during the attack, alongside your classmate Kasuki Bakugou, correct?" Izuku nodded faintly. "Can you recount the events that took place for me, as well as anything you remember about the villains themselves?"

"O-other than being there to kill All Might, uhm.. S-Shigaraki was-unstable. He spent a lot of time taunting Mr. Aizawa-ah, E-Eraserhead, and t-trying to goad Bakugou and I into a fight. W-when I used my Quirk on him in self defense, he was-outraged. H-he said something along the lines of me being a 'cheater', and Kurogiri had to persuade him to c-calm down. T-the basis of their plan was to have the Noumu fight All Might, a-and the rest of the villains would outnumber him while he was distracted. B-but.." Izuku swallowed a shaking breath, attempting to push all emotion from his voice and give an unbiased, logical recounting. "W-when All Might didn't show up r-right away, he-sent the Noumu after me. It was.. mindless, incapable of doing anything other than following orders. I u-used my Quirk in self defense, a-and.. um, then I woke up in the nurse's office."

Tsukauchi nodded, eyes flicking down to the paper he was writing on every few moments. A minute of quiet passed before he looked up again, looking thoughtful. "Speaking of your Quirk, Mr. Midoriya, your file has it listed as 'Living Nightmare', but there were no records of it in the offical registry. Were you aware of this?"

"Ah, about that," All Might interrupted in a sheepish tone of voice, before Izuku had time to properly explode with anxiety, "There's been some issues with Midoriya's forms for a little while now, but we're gonna get it all sorted out this week. We're performing a professional Quirk assessment on Friday, so we'll get everything filed and sorted in the registry by then."

"Glad to hear it," the detective replied amicably, the cue Izuku needed to start breathing again. "We've been working with principal Nedzu to comb the school's files for anything else that might be missing, and I thought Midoriya's file might be one of them. Good to see that isn't the case." Tsukauchi shuffled through his papers for a moment before he handed one to Izuku, along with his pen. "I just need you to fill out this form for me, and then you can go. Thank you for your cooperation, Mr. Midoriya."

"Y-yeah, it's no p-problem sir. I-I'm glad I could help." Izuku's smile turned out a little crooked, but he was feeling more and more at ease in the detective's presence. He'd certainly always had respect for police officers, but his love of heroes had mostly overshadowed it. But if detective Tsukauchi was someone that All Might could call a close friend, then he must have been a huge help to the Symbol of Peace. Izuku filled out his form with a bit more fervor, determined to help the detective in his investigation however he could. Unfortunately he couldn't work up the nerve to ask for an addendum to the form that he could use to write down his theories on the League of Villains motives, so he merely handed back the form while barely making eye contact.

"Thank you again." The detective rose from his seat, organizing his papers into a slim briefcase. He offered Izuku a polite nod, and smiled genially at All Might. "I wish we could catch up a little, but I've gotta be on my way. I'll see you later, All Might."

"See ya, Tsukauchi. Take care of yourself out there." All Might raised a hand to wave off the detective, but made no move to actually stand from the couch. Izuku's stomach twisted with nerves as the door clicked shut, leaving him alone with his teacher. The moment they were alone All Might sighed out a heavy breath, lifting himself from the couch in slow, painful looking movements. "Sorry to keep you longer, kid, I just wanted to have a word with you real quick. Do you want any tea?"

"N-no thank you, sir," Izuku mumbled, hoping he didn't sound impolite. He truly didn't mind speaking with All Might a little longer, but he was also still exhausted even after three days in a hospital bed, and he was sure his mother was antsy to get him back home. "U-uhm, what did you want to speak with me about?"

All Might spent a few moments busying himself by digging through a cabinet, presumably looking for tea. Eventually he gave up on it altogether, turning back meet Izuku's gaze with deeply set eyes, his expression lined with.. regret? "I wanted to apologize to you. Seems I've been doing a lot of that lately, huh?" The hero's frown twisted into a bitter smirk, and he continued speaking before Izuku could frantically try to reassure him that he didn't need to apologize. "I took your feelings too lightly, on the day with the slime villain, and again on the first day of class. I just thought you were a troubled kid in need of guidance, you know? There's tons of kids out there that are afraid of their Quirks because they never learned, never got the direction they needed. I spent too much time assuming, and not enough time listening. I should have realized it went deeper, should have gotten you assessed weeks ago. Your power.. I understand why you're afraid of it.

"But know this, young Midoriya," All Might continued, his tone thicker, run through with determination like rebar reinforcements. "Your power belongs to you. You don't belong to it. A villain with a power like yours could kill thousands of people, topple cities and throw society into chaos. But you aren't a villain, and your power is yours to command. I may have only known you for a few weeks, but I know you've got the spirit of a true hero. You are kind, and compassionate, and selfless to a fault. You have the potential to be an incredible hero one day."

Izuku sat, stunned into silence, barely able to feel his own tears over the hot flush that had consumed his face and filled his chest. All Might's every word resonated in his heart, blood hot and pulsing in his ears. "S-s-sir-"

"I'm not finished yet, young Midoriya." All Might stepped away from the counter, his eyes bright with heroic light and his presence magnified even outside of his hero form. "You know of my power's weakening-my time limit, my injury. But there's more to it than that. My power is one passed down through the generations, from one great hero to another. Born of a Quirk that stockpiles power, and one that passes itself to others.. my power is called One For All." Izuku's breath lodged in his throat, pupils blown wide and head racing with a thousand different trains of thought. He couldn't tear his gaze away from All Might, thin and haggard but glowing with heroism like the sun on earth, his eyes alight with intensity.

"This power was passed to me many years ago, and gave me the strength to change the world. One For All gave me the chance to save those in need, to fight back those who would see our world under their thumb! And now.. it's time for it to be given to another: someone brave, someone kind, someone driven!" The scope of the universe narrowed down to a pinprick, populated only by a trembling Izuku Midoriya and his idol, All Might standing tall and leaking wisps of steam, his eyes burning electric blue and his fist clenched in front of him. "I offer my power to you, Izuku Midoriya! Should you accept it, you will become the next Symbol of Peace; a shining beacon for those lost in the dark, the bastion of all that is just and kind in this world!" All Might extended his hand, fingers splayed out and reaching,offering. "The burden you carry is great indeed, young Midoriya, and what I offer you will be no easy task to complete. But I believe you have the strength to overcome, to go beyond, to rise up and make these powers your own!"

Izuku's heart thundered in his ears, his breath a whistling echo of hyperventilation that filled his chest with twinkling starlight. The universe lived within All Might's palm, a tapestry of infinite galaxies, infinite possibilities, finally within his grasp. He could taste the light of heroism, could feel its whispered caress yearning to exhume the terror under his skin and within his bones. Time stopped as his idol's voice rang out one final time, each word shaking the confines of reality around him.

"Izuku Midoriya... will you be my successor?"

And then the hands on the clock resumed ticking, starlight fading into buzzing fluorescent lights and the drab paint of the lounge walls closing in around him. The shackles of reality pierced his bones, iron chains that kept him tethered to his fears. With One For All, he could break those chains, snap them apart and chase the light until it was finally his. But the manacles would lock around him, their weight eternal even if it was no longer crippling. Even if he gnawed through the bars of his cage, he'd still be an animal tagged by terror, running for the rest of his life. He could be the strongest man in the world, an idol to those in need, could give them a shining smile to quell their fears and use his strength to protect others. But he wouldn't be free. He wouldn't be himself.

He didn't need broken chains; Izuku's only choice was to find the key. "A-All Mi-Might," he choked out, face hot with tears and marked with shame. "I-I'm so-s-sorry, I can't b-be your successor," Izuku's voice cracked into slivers and shards, barely whole enough to speak at all. He wrenched his gaze away from All Might's face, burying his own in shaking hands. "I-I can't, I c-can't, I c-can't I'm sorry-"

Izuku's breath hitched when a pair of warm hands rested on his shoulders, daring to pull away his fingers and face the disappointment he was sure to find. All Might had shared his greatest secret, had made himself vulnerable all because he believed in Izuku, and he'd thrown it all back in his hero's face like it was worthless- "It's alright, Midoriya, don't cry. I understand." Izuku's self deprecation stuttered and halted, and he frantically blinked through his tears. All Might was smiling, something softer and more personal than the blinding grin he showed the world. "It was foolish of me to try and place this burden on you. While I do think you would be a wonderful successor.." Electric blue eyes found Izuku's own, warmer than the light of heroism. "I know you'll be an incredible hero, no matter what."

Izuku threw himself forward, arms locking tight around his idol's chest as the dam of tears burst into loud, stuttering sobs. He shook and heaved with his relief, with his gratitude, with his admiration. A small part of him noted that he'd done a poor job of avoiding another emotional breakdown, but Izuku didn't find himself minding too much. After all, if All Might believed in him, then everything must be okay.

Chapter 25

Chapter Text

Wednesday morning arrived so brightly that it made Izuku's eyes water, the sky a cloudless stretch of gradient blues and the sun shining hot enough to make his neck bead with sweat under his scarf. The breeze helped a little in cooling him down, but the changing of seasons was obvious. He was loathe to meet the day when wearing his scarf would be too impractical, considering how much of himself lived in its vibrant threads.

Hopefully by that time his new costume would be ready, and he wouldn't need it anymore. His day off to recover had given him ample time to revise his design and figure out exactly what kind of image he wanted to portray through his costume. All Might had said it himself, 'a hero's costume is a symbol of their justice'. Izuku had to embody that with every ounce of himself, to be the hero he wanted to be, so desperately that it hurt. Most heroes he knew of wore costumes defined by their Quirks, but he couldn't really see that working out for him. Living Nightmare wasn't exactly a Quirk that inspired relief in others.

He scrolled idly through his phone while his morning train rattled underneath him, flipping between multiple tabs to simultaneously respond to forum posts and save pictures reflective of the image he hoped to craft for himself. It was an oddly soothing pastime, almost like putting together an abstract puzzle; every image that resonated with him was another piece, and all Izuku had to do was fit them together.

It was also a decent distraction from his internal turmoil over One For All. He'd been so emotional in the moment that he wondered if he should have thought it through more, been absolutely sure about his refusal to almost literally have all his dreams handed to him. But after a few hours of freaking out and several minutes of actual, rational thought, Izuku had to accept the fact that virtually every decision he made was emotional in some way due to his Quirk and he'd just have to live with it. The best thing he could take from the situation was that he at least hadn't made his decision out of fear. One For All would have been a decent cop-out; Izuku could have fabricated some kind of lie about Living Nightmare (and sworn his friends to secrecy) and then just used One For All while suppressing the monster under his skin.

But that fear hadn't been strong enough. Izuku might've been assaulted by intrusive thoughts of his own cowardice, but All Might had called him brave-a hero that had fought countless villains, saved countless lives, faced countless disasters thought he was brave. Maybe it wasn't giving up, to turn down the chance of being his hero's successor. Maybe he'd been brave in doing so. Izuku really couldn't say for sure. He just hoped that he hadn't made a terrible mistake.

Izuku hoisted himself up from his secluded corner when the train hissed to a halt, gathering his things and idly plucking important sounding thoughts from a dozen different streams of consciousness. He still needed to thank Asui for her adorable get-well card (which had very nicely reminded him to smile instead of frown) and thank Todoroki for his list of ointments (some of which Izuku was pretty sure had actually helped, but that might have just been wishful thinking) and try to figure out how he was supposed to talk to Kacchan in the future (assuming Bakugou didn't fall back into old habits out of stubborn anger, which Izuku knew he was capable of but would rather think him above) and he probably had to prepare himself for a substitute homeroom teacher since Mr. Aizawa was likely still recovering-

"Hey Midoriya!" Izuku was ripped from his thoughts when a firm arm was thrown around his shoulders, a shock of red hair and a blinding grin thrust slightly too close to his face. "Glad to see you back in form, man! But uh, 'fraid I gotta arrest you; noise pollution is a serious crime."

Kirishima's teasing grin took a moment to click in Izuku's head, the realization that he'd been thinking aloud pooling embarrassment under his cheeks. "U-uh-sorry a-about that! I-I've been trying not to d-do it as much, so sorry if I a-annoyed you-"

"Hey, hey, roll it back a few notches! You're not annoying me, man. Promise." Kirishima pulled away only to muss his fingers through Izuku's carefully brushed hair, prompting a startled yelp. "Maybe some people are put off by that kinda thing, but I say screw 'em. Far as I'm concerned, s' just another part of you." Kirishima's gaze suddenly softened from the almost mischievous glint it had possessed, blood orange smoothed over in a gentle wave.

"I-I.. okay. U-uhm, thank you?" Izuku replied in faint confusion, struck with the feeling that they had suddenly begun having a completely different conversation. Fumbling to move things back in a direction he understood, Izuku blurted the first thought that came into his head. "D-did I miss anything in class, yesterday?"

"Uhh.. other than Mineta not showin', not really," Kirishima began in a lax tone, returning the comforting weight of his arm around Izuku's shoulders as if it had never left. "We were practically just there for show; kinda felt like a cheat day almost. Aizawa's still healin' up last I heard, so we had principal Nedzu sit in on homeroom, and like no offense to the guy but he could probably talk forever if he felt like it-"

Izuku quietly leaned into his friend's steady weight, allowing Kirishima's voice to run over him like water over silt. He bit his lip preemptively to avoid muttering his thoughts out loud, running over the beginning of their conversation with a fine toothed comb. For all his ability to read people by their inflection, expression, and body language, he wasn't great on picking up on 'doublespeak', the idea of saying things that meant something else just not clicking well with him. The idea of it coming from Kirishima of all people was equally difficult to digest, considering how open and straightforward his friend usually was.

Surely Kirishima wouldn't have given him such a look of (extremely flustering) tender understanding if he was just talking about Izuku's habit of thinking aloud. Or maybe he would and Izuku had read their relationship completely wrong, but that didn't seem too likely (he hoped). The only probable thing his friend could be referring to would be.. Living Nightmare. Kirishima had seen him, Izuku realized with vague acknowledgement, the thought almost completely drowned under a tide of screaming alarm. Kirishima hadn't just pulled Izuku's useless body away from danger, he'd been around to see what came before. Izuku could still only remember brief glimpses and impressions, but the stink of blood, blood, blood and the endless howling and tearing of flesh and ligaments- and Kirishima accepted it? Kirishima accepted him?

Kirishima's soothing voice abruptly cut out when Izuku leaned nearly all his weight into the red head, green curls pressing against the side of Kirishima's head and hot tears seeping into the shoulder of his uniform. Izuku could feel his friend stiffen, alarm ringing in his voice when it rose again. "Hey, hey, you okay, man? Was it something I said?"

"N-no, no-" Izuku stuttered around hiccuping breaths, before immediately contradicting himself. "I-I mean, y-yes, it-it's-th-thank you. Thank you s-so much, I-I-" A moment of self awareness punctured Izuku's torrent of emotions, and he sheepishly removed himself from Kirishima's person, shame burning hot on his face. "S-sorry if I made you u-uncomfortable, I-"

"Bro, seriously. I'll write this on my forehead if you need it, but it's okay." Kirishima's smile radiated a warmth that left Izuku feeling flushed and slightly queasy, unable to quantify and compile the intent behind it. "If you need a hug or whatever, I'm cool with it. Honest. If you need to stand close, hell, if you wanna hold my hand or something," Kirishima's unflappable affection colored with embarrassment for half a moment, "then I'm down for it. I'll let you know if I'm uncomfortable, okay? Promise."

"Y..yeah. O-okay. Sorry, I-I'm just-" Izuku paused and caught himself, a trembling smile easing onto his face. "I'm just bad about a-apologizing, I guess."

"I think there's plenty worse things out there to be bad about, so don't sweat it." Kirishima's answering smile was a gleaming bastion of light, a flash of razor edged teeth shining like a beacon meant to lead Izuku through the dark. Judging by the palpitations of his heart and the wetness lingering at the corners of his eyes, he was right where he needed to be.
--
The first thing Izuku noticed upon walking into the 1-A classroom that morning was the presence of someone he didn't already know. An unfamiliar body slouched in one of the desks, slumped over with a shock (almost literally, considering how strangely it defied gravity) of pale purple hair rested against the wooden surface. He was wearing a student's uniform, so he clearly wasn't someone who wasn't supposed to be there, but..

Izuku's only working theory was that the stranger was from 1-B, and had been so exhausted he'd wandered into the wrong classroom. An easy enough situation to resolve, he told himself, while in the same moment sliding halfway back out the door and desperately wishing Kirishima hadn't left to go to the bathroom. It'd be rude of him not to let the other student know of his error, though, and that weighed heavy enough on his conscious to tug him fully into the room.

"H-hello?" Izuku's voice rang off the walls even when he made a conscious effort to lower it, pitched high by frayed nerves. He winced when the dozing boy twitched, mumbling into one of his crossed arms. "U-uhm.. e-excuse me, I-I'm sorry but I-I think you might be in the wrong classroom and I'm really sorry to wake you up but I don't want you to be late and-"

"Do you ever stop talking," the boy mumbled, his head lifting in a slow arc. His words were slurred with sleep, but contained more than enough bite to force a flinch out of Izuku. The other boy's features were-severe, and that was only exacerbated by the annoyed twist of his lips and the dark, bruise colored bags under his eyes. "I'm trying to sleep here, in case you haven't noticed."

Izuku raised his hands and flapped them back and forth defensively, his voice pitching even higher. "I-I know and I'm r-really really sorry b-but class is going to start in fifteen minutes and I d-don't want you to get in trouble-"

The other student fixed him with a glare so wild eyed that Izuku nearly bit his tongue in his haste to stop talking. A moment of tense silence thrummed between them, before Izuku managed to work up enough (stupidity) bravery to speak again. "U-uhm.. w-what's your name? A-Are you from class 1-B?"

"...You don't know who I am?" The other boy questioned suspiciously, his lips turned into a frown and his glare transitioned into an accusing stare. His frown tugged even more harshly at his face when Izuku meekly shook his head, eyes wide and unsure. "Somehow, I don't believe you."

"I-I feel like maybe w-we've gotten off on the wrong foot," Izuku barely avoided stuttering, a smile so crooked it was nearly sideways quivering on his face. "I-I'm Izuku Midoriya, f-from class 1-A. I-I guess that part was o-obvious, huh? I just-I-I think you might be in the wrong class-" He flinched when purple eyes darkened, frantic to continue spitting words to dig himself out of his own grave, "I m-mean just y-you might have come here in-instead of 1-B because you were tired and I didn't want you to get in trouble for falling alseep in here!"

"What makes you think I'm from class 1-B, exactly?" Izuku shrugged his shoulders helplessly, a small part of him marveling in slight envy at how deep the other boy's voice was and why couldn't his have deepened like that? "Hm. Well, your concern is misplaced. I'm Hitoshi Shinsou, also of class 1-A as of about right now. One of your classmates dropped out, which left a spot open for someone from one of the other courses to join in. Naturally, I had to claw my way out of the general studies cesspool as quickly as possible. Eraserhead himself nominated me for the Hero Course, so it wasn't exactly an opportunity I could pass up."

Izuku took a second to switch gears from 'intimidated friendliness' to 'gushing uncontrollably', but when the change did happen his whole body lit up with energy. His eyes shined with distant stars, a lopsided smile pulling hard at his cheeks. "W-wow, that's so cool! C-congratulations, Shinsou, Mr. Aizawa is such a hard guy to impress you must be r-really talented! U-uhm, welcome to c-class 1-A, I can't wait to w-work togeth-" He paused as every gear ground to a halt, the first part of Shinsou's words registering in his head. "D-dropped out? Wait, w-what, who left?!" His head whipped around, as if he could identify the missing person by their empty desk. But when he thought about it, the desk Shinsou was sitting in-

"Some guy named Mineta," Shinsou yawned, looking distinctly un-enthused in having to recount further information. "Apparently the USJ thing was enough to scare him off. He 'came here to look cool and meet hot girls, not be an extra in a horror movie', whatever the hell that means. Good riddance; if he doesn't have the guts to handle villains, he shouldn't be a hero at all." Shinsou's lips curled with annoyance, his attention drifting long enough for Izuku to formulate a response.

Honestly, he was almost relieved to know Mineta had been the one to leave. He was wracked with guilt at the thought, because Mineta hadn't ever been rude to him or anything, but he just-didn't know the boy enough to have formed a connection. Despite that, hearing his paraphrased parting words made Izuku's chest ache, struck by the whiplash of cruel insensitivity. "O-oh.. w-well, uhm i-it's still nice to meet you, Shinsou. S-sorry for waking you up."

"You apologize too much," Shinsou responded flatly, as if he were making a statement of fact instead of trying to be insulting. Izuku flushed in embarrassment, but wasn't particularly stung by the observation. He did apologize too much, after all. "I'll be getting back to my nap, if you don't mind."

"R-right, yeah, s-sorry for disturbing you-o-oh god I did it again-" Izuku slapped both hands over his mouth when Shinsou's glare began cutting through him, and rushed to sit at his desk and make no noise whatsoever. His cheeks were hot against his fingers, his spine locked wire tight by the feeling of the glare on the back of his head. Izuku slumped over in relief when the pressure of Shinsou's gaze stopped boring through his skull, eyes slipping shut. He rubbed the hem of his jacket between two fingers, attempting to focus on the texture over his discomfort at having an unfamiliar body in the same room with him.

Luckily (unluckily? Izuku couldn't tell anymore) Shinsou was sincere in his desire to resume his slumber, his silence leaving Izuku nothing but quiet anxiety to reflect on. His new classmate certainly seemed... intense, but not immediately hostile. He hadn't said anything insulting, or even insinuated anything negative, which let Izuku view his blunt confrontation in a neutral light, at the very least. He did look exhausted, so Izuku could understand his irritation at being woken up for basically no reason. Maybe he could apologize again later when he wasn't in danger of waking Shinsou up, and he could give himself a (slim) chance at befriending his new classmate.

Izuku was fortunately headed off from his chance to descend into darker thoughts by the arrival of more of his classmates, loud enough to drown out his own thoughts, if only for the moment. He sank quietly into his seat and pulled out one of his notebooks (Hero Analysis For The Future 19, with little stars doodled on the front) to begin mindlessly sketching, the familiar motions a sufficient anchor in the few tumultuous moments before class.

He managed to pay enough attention to greet his friends when they walked by, a moment of indecision leaving him in half a wave when Kacchan stomped through the classroom. The blond barely made eye contact, but he didn't sneer or glare or throw his desk across the room, so Izuku decided to take it positively.

He perked up a little when Asui plodded beside him, leaning up to offer a friendly smile and hopefully catch her attention. His smile was less an expression of welcoming and more just his lips moving and his teeth inexplicably being present, but it was enough to catch her eye. "H-Hey, Asui. Um.. I-I wanted to thank you, f-for the card. It was really n-nice of you. It.. m-means a lot."

"No problem, Midoriya," she croaked, her expression placid but her eyes openly scanning his face. "Your Quirk might be unquestionably terrifying, but that doesn't make you a bad person, or anything." She settled into the desk behind him, leaving him no time to recover from his state of shock and respond in wordless splutters.

He was barely even given a moment of time to think about it either, considering all his attention had been grabbed by the sight of Mr. Aizawa stiffly forcing his way into the room through the inconvenience of a back brace, his posture stiff and pained looking. He halfheartedly glared up at the sound of a shocked outcry, voices piling on top of each other in concern. "Save your concern for someone that needs it, I'm fine. You have more important things to worry about." He trailed off on his way to his desk, outcry dwindling into murmurs of unease.

Mr. Aizawa stood stiffly behind his desk, looking for all the world as if he wanted to just crawl underneath it. "Minoru Mineta has transferred out of class 1-A. Hitoshi Shinsou was bumped to his spot on referral. I'll emphasize that he's your classmate, not a class pet, so don't bombard him with questions. Other than that," Mr. Aizawa continued on, unconcerned when nearly every eye turned to scrutinize a defensively hunched Shinsou, "the annual Sport's Festival is coming up in a few weeks. The U.A. administration, in their infinite wisdom, have decided to go ahead with the festival despite the attack, to.. show solidarity in the face of adversity, or something. Security will be significantly tightened, so there's nothing to worry about. I'm sure you all understand how important the Sport's Festival is: it'll be your first public debut, where pro heroes can scout you based on your talents. You get one chance a year, and three in a lifetime."

Mr. Aizawa's eyes narrowed with intensity, his words falling like dominoes. "Be sure not to screw it up."
--
Friday rolled over Izuku in a landslide of dread, every moment a steadily surmounting monument of anxiety that'd be sure to crush him into paste when it toppled over. The stress of the looming Sport's Festival did him no favors, but the immediate threat of his Assessment made even that irrelevant. He hadn't been allowed to participate directly in any of his Hero Course classes, All Might's apologetic grin snuffed by cold shame as he hunched over notebooks on the sidelines.

He would have used the opportunity to think more objectively about his classmate's abilities and how they could work most effectively with one another (as well as how to pair together less compatible Quirks) but his brain decided to instead assault him with countless entirely realistic and unbelievably terrifying scenarios that awaited him, when the Assessment began.

He was pulled from a particularly gruesome imagining of the faceless Quirk Specialist being pulped like a peach thrown into lawnmower blades by the sight of Mr. Aizawa standing in his path, preventing him from trudging listlessly towards All Might's class. "Midoriya. It's time to begin your assessment." His teacher's face was unreadable, a blank mask of neutrality that, oddly enough, put Izuku a little more at ease. Mr. Aizawa was always more expressive when he was agitated, or something was wrong, so a virtual lack of facial expression was a good sign.

"O-okay. Is it.. o-on campus, sir?" Izuku hastily fell in step behind his teacher, fingers pulling and rubbing at the hem of his jacket (a behavior Ms. Atsuko had told him was called 'stimming', during his last appointment) to try and ground himself with tactile sensation.

"Yes, we have a training room meant for particularly destructive Quirks set up for you, and Dr. Kageyama of the Institute of Quirk Categorization will be performing the assessment." Mr. Aizawa didn't break stride, his steps still hard for Izuku to keep up with at a normal walking pace despite his injuries. "I want you to be absolutely honest with Dr. Kageyama, understand? This is a professional assessment, one that should have been performed the moment you set foot on school grounds. I was foolish enough to underestimate the severity of the situation. It won't happen again."

Izuku flinched from the force behind Mr. Aizawa's quiet intensity, vision blurry when he stared down at the tips of his sticker defaced shoes. "I-I understand, sir. I-I'm sorry for causing you s-so much trouble."

"Save the apologies for when you need them, Midoriya. I already told you not to do it when you haven't done anything wrong. The fault lies with myself and All Might, whom I'm sure has already given you some heartfelt apology." Mr. Aizawa's tone wasn't quite disdainful, but there was a negative note in his words that Izuku couldn't place. "In addition to that, he's given me a full overview of what he's observed of your Quirk. I'll be sure to pass it on to Dr. Kageyama, since your awareness is impaired during use."

"R-right." Izuku desperately attempted to narrow his thoughts with laser focus, and drown out the hiss of static creeping into the edges of his awareness. "Y-you, uhm- i-it causes interference with e-electronics too. I-I don't want to accidentally d-damage school property again-"

"Don't worry about it, that's already been taken care of. Dr. Kageyama will be observing you in person, and I'll be on standby to nullify your Quirk should the need arise. And before you start worrying about hurting someone accidentally, we won't be in the same room. We'll use a two way mirror to prevent any chance of incidents. If you stop worrying and focus on being cooperative, it won't take long." Mr. Aizawa stalled to a halt in front of a large set of metal double doors, motioning towards them with one hand. "Step inside. This shouldn't take too long. And relax, okay? This is to help you, not torment you. So wipe that look off your face."

Izuku resisted the urge to flinch when Mr. Aizawa met his gaze with dark eyes, conveying intensity without any of the harshness his blunt words suggested. Izuku slapped on a partially composed smile, and it was enough for Mr. Aizawa to stop burning lasers into his brain. He slowly pushed his way through the double doors, stepping out into a completely bare training hall that vaguely resembled his middle school gymnasium. It was much cleaner looking at least, the floor tiles gleaming white and the walls not marred by peeling paint.

He nearly jumped out of his skin when the loudspeakers crackled to life, glancing around the room before his eye caught on a reflective pane of glass on the far wall. ["Good afternoon, Mr. Midoriya. My name is Dr. Kageyama, I'm a Quirk Specialist from the Institute of Quirk Categorization. The assessment will begin in a few moments, but before that I'd like to ask a few questions. Can you describe your Quirk.. Living Nightmare, in basic terms for me?"]

"U-uhm.. okay." Izuku's voice echoed in the room around him, and he had to assume there was some sort of microphone system set up to pick up on it. "L-Living Nightmare is a Quirk that t-transfers intent into destructive energy. I-it's fueled by.. negative emotion, a-and induces an i-irrational fear response in the user and target. I-it... the side e-effects of over use involve d-dissociation, moderate to s-severe nausea, and in extreme cases the user is r-rendered comatose."

A moment of silence passed, Izuku forced to stand around and fretfully scratch the back of his hand while he waited for a response. ["That all seems to fit your file. Now, Mr. Midoriya, can you describe how your Quirk manifests for me? Take as much time as you need."]

Izuku swallowed a knot of barbed wire, crossing his arms and locking his fingers around his elbows. "U-uhm.. it-it's based off of intent, s-so.. W-when used with the intent t-to not do physical harm, it-paralyzes the t-target with fear. The e-effect can be b-broken by outside interference, or if the target is s-strong willed. When the i-intent is to enhance physical ability, it manifests as p-pure destructive force with lessened side effects. W-when-" Izuku cut himself off to take a few deep breaths, hoping to quell the tendrils of Living Nightmare that tugged at his ribs. "...When used with i-intent to harm, the user transforms i-into an inhuman form a-and loses all awareness until the i-intended actions are carried out. W-when... the c-complexity of the intended actions directly a-affect the complexity of the form Living Nightmare takes."

Izuku waited numbly as the static haunted him in distant pulses, every limb trembling uncontrollably. The silence stretched long enough to be distinctly unsettling, before the loudspeakers crackled back on. ["Now, I'm going to need you to activate your Quirk for me, Mr. Midoriya. Do not focus on any sort of intent just yet."]

Izuku froze like a statue, his shaking limbs locked into stone. He'd known that he couldn't get through a Quirk assessment without actually using his Quirk, but no amount of knowing could have adequately prepared him. He forced his legs into motion, echoes of his squeaking shoes bouncing off the bare walls. He positioned himself in the vague center of the room, to minimize the possibility of collateral damage. His heart pulsed and quivered, constricted by countless wires. He forced his eye closed, breathing loud and shaky in his own ears. It was just like the beach, he just-all he had to do was let go, let go, let go-

Izuku's world was consumed by the howling fumes that poured from his chest in furious plumes, scars burning red hot under his uniform. He had half a moment to hear the tortured wail of the PA system before all awareness was ripped away, his consciousness removed from his flesh.
--
Izuku slammed back into his own body so abruptly that his immediate reaction was to vomit, hot bile spilling past his lips before he had even regained the sensation in his face. He coughed and hacked into a vile puddle, shaking limbs struggling to hoist him up and away from it. His sensation returned so quickly that he was left with whiplash, the sensory overload pulling a strained whimper from his throat.

He was still in the training hall, which looked fairly undamaged. The floor under his feet was cracked and dulled, as if it had been left without proper maintenance for decades, and his heart caught in his throat at the thought of how expensive it'd be to replace. He guiltily stepped around his puddle of stomach contents, his stomach still roiling but his head oddly clear. The PA system was silent, so he trudged on shaky legs towards the double doors leading out to the hall.

He was halted in his tracks by the sudden sound of raised voices coming through the door, only brief snatches of sentences carrying through. "-oy is a ---ace, --u ca-- --ve him on ---ool grounds!"

It sounded vaguely like Dr. Kageyama, and Izuku shuffled uncertainly in place. He-it'd be wrong of him to eavesdrop, he needed to just wait for further instructions instead of getting himself in trouble. He quickly moved out of earshot, running his fingers down the fabric of his poorly knotted tie (Iida had attempted to teach him, but Izuku just didn't have a lot of dexterity to work with) to calm his racing heart.

His efforts were for naught when the doors flew open, one of them banging against the wall behind it. All the color drained from Izuku's face when Mr. Aizawa stalked inside, his lips pressed into a thin line and his eyes dark with rage. His hair was more disheveled than usual and his scarf was hanging off one shoulder, and Izuku was struck with the realization that Mr. Aizawa had used Erasure on him. His panic heightened into a shrill whine, his voice breaking the moment he began to speak. "S-s-sir I'm so-sorry I d-didn't mean t-t-to damage th-the floor I'm s-sorry, I'm sorry-"

"Put a lid on it, Midoriya," Mr. Aizawa barely refrained from snapping, his voice tight with tension. He visibly took a moment to calm himself, one hand sweeping loose strands of hair out of his face. "Don't worry about the floor, it's irrelevant. The assessment is over. Head home, enjoy your weekend, and don't slack off on training for the Sport's Festival. Understood?"

A pulse of confusion cut through Izuku's meltdown, affording him a brief moment of stability. "O-over? What-but w-what about Dr. Kageyama?"

"Don't worry about it." Mr. Aizawa cowed him into a shaking mess with a long stare, his eyes red and irritated from the use of his Quirk. "We're getting everything squared away, so head home. I won't repeat myself a third time."

Sensing the absolute finality in Mr. Aizawa's voice, Izuku hesitantly scurried towards the door, brushing past his teacher as endless thoughts buzzed through his head. Something had to have gone wrong, but for whatever reason Mr. Aizawa wouldn't tell him what it was. There was no way he'd caused any injury with Living Nightmare through the wall, especially because Mr. Aizawa's anger didn't seem to be directed at Izuku himself. Which meant something had happened between him and Dr. Kageyama. But why would he-

"Stop mumbling and go." Mr. Aizawa's voice cracked across Izuku's back like a whip, and he hurried off down the hall with hunched shoulders. He could feel his teacher's gaze burn into his back until he left line of sight, a shiver wracking down his spine. Maybe.. if Mr. Aizawa was so insistent on not telling him, then.. maybe it was better he didn't know. Izuku told himself that lie the entire walk home, unwilling to ponder the alternative.

Chapter 26

Chapter Text

The moment Izuku was (mostly) free of his concern over his Quirk assessment (by way of Mr. Aizawa fixing him with a stare so desolate that it felt like his Quirk along with half his body had been erased when he brought it up), the mounting dread of the steadily approaching Sport's Festival quickly took its place. A few weeks was hardly enough time for him to make up for his deficit of physical strength, so he was left with doubling down on training himself almost exclusively through memorizing Quirks, strategies, grappling techniques (at least, ones where he could displace his opponent's weight instead of relying on his own) and hesitantly practicing with his Quirk, instead of simply using it to relieve himself of its side effects.

He'd also taken up running in the mornings, setting his alarm to wake him before the sun had even risen and jogging around his neighborhood until his legs were stiff and burning the next day. Izuku pushed himself through the pain and discomfort, desperate to build up at least a little bit of endurance so he didn't have to solely rely on outsmarting opponents and using his extremely dangerous and hard to control Quirk.

The mountains of trash that remained on his beach slowly dwindled, his focus on amplified strength training turning chunks of refuse into dust and powdering the coarse sand of the beach until it was fine as flour. Every night after dinner he forced himself out of bed to practice under cover of night, carving gouges in rusted metal from forty feet away and turning car sized hunks of trash to shrapnel and detritus with direct punches. The number of hits he could manage before he was overcome with the urge to vomit had increased steadily, from a measly three up to a respectable eight by the end of the first week.

The consequence of his training was that by the end of the week Izuku was so exhausted he was unable to tell if he'd killed himself accidentally or not, the world a blur of color whenever he wasn't focusing his attention on something. He'd still been able to hold conversations before the weekend, at the very least, but without school to distract him from his training, he'd swiftly deteriorated until every waking moment felt like a fever dream, and the few snatches of sleep he allowed himself felt like slightly extended blinks.

Tokoyami had taken one look at his inside-out shirt, mismatched socks, and glassy eyed stare before practically carrying him to school to be chewed out by the rest of his friends. Too exhausted to even articulate a defensive explanation for his actions, Izuku had simply ripped the page detailing his training regimen from his notebook and handed it over. He'd fallen asleep to the sound of Iida's incredibly loud lecturing and the soothing sensation of Uraraka jostling his entire body back and forth with concern.

For the remaining days before the festival, Izuku's friends wormed their way into his training regimen in much the same way they had the rest of his life; without him having any real decision in the matter, as well as without him minding very much at all. Every morning on his runs, Iida would meet him with an impeccable smile and a pre prepared breakfast, lecturing Izuku between bites of food on proper nutrition and hydration. His ability to speak uninterrupted about cardio workout methods and tips for building stamina and endurance while also easily outpacing a sweaty, wheezing Izuku was almost as breathtaking as the workout itself.

Uraraka and Kirishima had apparently appointed themselves to 'fun duty', consistently dragging Izuku away from his studies whenever they felt he needed a break, as well as helping him put his researched techniques into practice. Kirishima was.. significantly more difficult for Izuku to grapple with than Uraraka (and not just because his hands would get uncomfortably sweaty from prolonged physical contact), so he mostly offered incredibly loud and bombastic encouragement from the sidelines, while Uraraka mostly flipped Izuku into the dirt. He imagined it would have gone a little more smoothly if Uraraka's competitive streak hadn't made her so frightening to spar with, but the rush of exhilaration and thrill of achievement when he managed to pin her to the ground was more than worth it.

At night, Tokoyami would shadow his Quirk training, equipped with an LED lamp, flashlights, and water bottles to re-hydrate with after he reached his nausea limit. Sometimes he would merely observe the dark fumes that curled around Izuku's fists and turned steel into dust, offering critiques of his form and proverbs that, when boiled down, gave him sound tactical advice. On clear nights Tokoyami would unleash Dark Shadow, the shadow being turned bold and mischievous in the dark, even with the shining moon and the lamp taming its wild impulses. Dark Shadow would help Izuku practice evasion, using his Quirk to launch himself out of the way of massive, shadowy claws. After the third time he accidentally propelled himself into the ocean, Tokoyami began bringing towels as well.

There were also some nights where Tokoyami would look him over and decline his desire to train, instead coaxing Izuku into sitting beside him and contemplating the distant stars and crashing waves. At first Izuku would itch under his skin, fidgeting with the need to improve, improve, improve. But then the swell of cool ocean breezes and the frigid, twinkling beacons in the sky would enrapture him, thoughts peacefully leveling out. He'd stumble home with Tokoyami firmly grasping his hand, the lantern held before him as if he were a messenger of the night. Izuku's slumber was always more restful, after nights like those.

The time leading up to the Sport's Festival vanished in what felt the blink of an eye, Izuku's original sure-to-be-miserable training regimen turned into something infinitely better with the aid of his friends. Not for the first time, he wondered how he'd ever managed to be so lucky after years of almost permanent misfortune. The fact that he'd have to compete against his friends put a slight damper on things, but overall he was almost excited for the Sport's Festival. He felt capable for the first time ever, like he could actually hold his own, at least a little, without having to destroy everything around him just to manage it. Perhaps Izuku wasn't confident, wasn't sure of himself or his chances, but he was ready.
--
Izuku stared at a particularly uninteresting part of the waiting room's wall, different parts of his brain struggling to focus on a single objective. He was seated at a fold-out table with Uraraka and Asui, who were lightly conversing about topics unrelated to the festival. Uraraka had turned her seat sideways and casually thrown her legs over Izuku's lap, a point of contact that was simultaneously grounding and panic-inducing. He'd gotten slightly better with initiating physical contact outside of emotional bouts, but having it so casual and prolonged and in front of the entire class was a bit much to handle all at once.

He listened with half an ear to Ojirou and Ashido's discussion of the absolute injustice of them not being allowed to wear costumes, which Izuku was torn on. He wouldn't have been able to wear his costume regardless, considering it was still unfinished, but he felt practically naked without any of his typical adornments. His hair was infinitely more wild and untameable without clips to hold it down, and he found himself consistently brushing it out of his eyes. Maybe a ponytail really was the way to go, if his hair was going to get any longer.

There was also the underlying panic of having to compete not only with all his classmates, but the rest of the first year students as well, while using his Quirk, and with it all being televised to the entire country as well as probably all over the world besides-it was more than he could handle all at once. He attempted to draw his attention to something more calming, and failed spectacularly when his gaze landed on a brooding Kacchan, sat far and away from everyone else. The rest of the class.. hadn't exactly warmed up to him, despite his (impressively) reduced outbursts and the confirmation that he hadn't betrayed them at the USJ. He'd made his impression, and it was unlikely that he could break it without serious effort. He and Kaminari had a lot of unresolved tension between them, and Kirishima and Uraraka were the only ones that even attempted to make conversation with him.

That fact alone had guilt bubbling in Izuku's gut, because he truly did want to make things better between them, but his uncertainty crippled his efforts with indecision. But the longer he waited and wondered, the larger the rift between them would grow. With a fragile shard of bravery in his grasp and only a few minutes remaining on the clock, Izuku gently slid out from under Uraraka's legs and approached his classmate. "H..hey, Kacchan?"

Bakugou glanced up in a jerky motion, the tendons in his arms visibly tense and his teeth clenched together. Izuku went very still when twin molten pits locked him in place, and prided himself for not flinching. "U-uhm.. I just wanted to.. w-wish you good luck, i-in the competition!"

Dread seeped through the cracks in Izuku's encouraging smile when Kacchan's eyes narrowed with anger, the blond rising from his chair with enough force to send it clattering to the floor. A few heads turned in concern, Uraraka in particular sporting a scowl that promised an imminent upper atmospheric occupant. "What the fuck is wrong with you, Izuku? Is this some kind of fucking joke to you?"

Izuku fell back half a step, his arms shaking when he held them up defensively. "N-no, I j-just, I-I hope you do well i-is all-"

"Don't fucking interrupt me," Bakugou hissed, his voice on the cusp of rising into a shout. "This really is a joke to you, isn't it? You 'hope I do well'? FUCK OFF!" Kacchan advanced a single step, and a chorus of screeching chair legs rang out as several other members of the class rose from their seats. "Stay out of this, you fucking background props!" Bakugou barked, his teeth bared in a snarl but his arms forcibly held at his sides. "This is between me and Izuku. And in case you fucking pea brained dipshits haven't figured it out yet, I'm not gonna harm a fucking hair on his stupid green head." His gaze whipped back around, his eyes burning like the mouths of erupting volcanoes. "Listen up, Izuku, cuz' I'm not gonna repeat myself. This is a fucking competition, you dumbass. Which means you don't fucking play nice with your opponents! THE WHOLE POINT IS TO WIN, YOU SHITTY NERD! So don't fucking come over here and wish me luck, and hope I do well, because that means you aren't taking it SERIOUSLY!"

Izuku's eyes widened in confusion, the fear draining out of him to be replaced by bewildered awe. Kacchan visibly relaxed, flexing his fingers and unclenching his jaw at the sight of Izuku's understanding, but the intensity of his gaze didn't falter. "So don't waste your damn breath on platitudes and well wishes. Focus on doing something for yourself, for fucking once in your pathetic life. I swear to god if you don't go out there and put every single fucking molecule of yourself into winning, I'm gonna fucking catapult you into a dumpster. Understand?"

"Y..yeah, I do. I-I promise I'll try to win," Izuku uttered breathlessly, his eyes blown wide and unable to tear themselves away from the thrumming determination in Kacchan's expression. For the first time in his life, Kacchan's heat wasn't something that burned him, or something he was forced to admire from afar. Instead he could taste it, the fire under his tongue and the drive throbbing under his skin and the will to grasp victory spreading his lips in a beaming smile.

"Izuku Midoriya." The utterance of his name in a scratchy, deadpan voice broke Izuku from the moment, but didn't wrest from him the embers he'd been gifted. He turned to meet a gaze split into two colors, and smiled crookedly at an expectantly neutral Todoroki.

"U-uh, hey, Todoroki! D-did you need something-oh uhm! T-thank you for, t-the ointments, by the way. I-I think they really helped w-with, um.." Izuku trailed off when the frost in Todoroki's gaze wound its way around his limbs, his smile freezing on his face.

Todoroki's face didn't even move, as if he hadn't heard Izuku speak at all. "I think it's safe to say that, objectively, you possess the most power of anyone in this class." His tone was absolutely flat, leaving Izuku with no ability to figure out if his statement was meant to be a compliment or not. "And please don't waste time by acting modest. Perhaps I didn't see the incident at the USJ in full, but I saw the aftermath. The broken limbs scattered across the central plaza. Dozens of them."

Izuku's blood turned to ice, his heartbeat a frantic pounding against his constricted ribs. He desperately parted numbing lips to work a word in edgewise, but Todoroki steamrolled on without pause. "Despite that strength, you're weak. You have no idea how to use that power to your advantage, and have no confidence in yourself. So in spite of your power, I am going to beat you." He blinked once, his gaze lacking either hostility or determination, but instead colored with dull assurance, the unquestionable knowledge that he was correct.

"Hey, hey, lay off the guy, will ya?" Kirishima interrupted, crossing the room in a few quick strides to place a supportive hand on Izuku's shoulder. "What's your problem, Todoroki? Midoriya tries to thank you, and you insult him right to his face? Uncool, man."

"In case you haven't yet realized, this isn't a meet and greet. We aren't here to make friends, and if you think this festival is the only time we're supposed to compete against one another, then you need to start paying more attention." Izuku's gaze desperately swept over Todoroki's face, searching for a glimpse of the boy that had helped him, even if he'd been awkward and abrupt in doing so-but Todoroki's expression was simply cold.

Todoroki abruptly turned to walk away, apparently satisfied in having said his piece. Izuku stared numbly at his back, struggling to formulate some sort of response, anything he could possibly say-

"That's some real big talk comin' from a half assed piece of shit like you," Bakugou's voice rang out, hot with anger and steeped in viscous mocking. Todoroki stopped mid step, turning his head just enough to catch a glimpse of Bakugou's sneer. "Yeah, you fuckin' heard me. If youreally think you even have a chance of winning with your fucking shitty attitude, you've got another thing comin'. Izuku may be a crybaby dumbass, but at least he's not a fucking slacker. So you'll either try your damned hardest, or I'll personally stomp your ass into the fucking dust, you half-and-half bastard."

Todoroki's expression barely wavered, a stark white eyebrow twitching before he turned to continue walking, brusquely pushing his way through the metal door of the waiting room directly past a confused looking Iida. There was a long moment of awkward silence, before an amused snort broke the quiet.

"Wooow," Shinsou drawled, his tone amused and one side of his mouth curled into a smirk. "I don't think I've ever seen someone with their head so far up their own ass before. He certainly doesn't half-ass being a pompous dick."

Bakugou scoffed aloud, his gaze briefly flashing over the smirking Shinsou. "That's probably the only rational thing anyone in this fucking class has ever said." He sounded... vaguely impressed, when Izuku managed to peer through the layers of anger (likely directed at the fact that he was impressed) that typically layered his tone.

"Ahem!" Iida cleared his throat loudly (Izuku was absolutely impressed by how loud he managed to do it) to catch everyone's attention, quickly slipping from confusion to his normal overbearing class representative demeanor. "Attention class 1-A! The festival is about to begin! we're on in two minutes, so please ready yourselves!"

The unspoken tension in the room eased up as groups dissolved and conversations dispersed, Izuku swaying slightly at the sudden shift in atmosphere. Kirishima's hand lightly squeezed his shoulder through his uniform, and Izuku turned to meet his reassuring gaze. "Hey, don't let what Todoroki said get to you, alright? You're crazy strong, and I know you're gonna kick some serious ass." Kirishima gifted him a dazzling smile that was all razor sharp teeth, bared with electric excitement and softened edges of affection.

Izuku's eyes widened, trails of stardust sparkling in his gaze as the fire in his veins burst back to life, a rush of enthusiasm that revived his own lopsided grin. "Y-yeah.. yeah, I w-will! And, you do your best too, Kirishima!"

A soft chime echoed from the speakers set up above the door, and Iida immediately snapped to attention, standing so straight that Izuku worried it might be a health hazard. "That's our cue! Everyone, let's go out there and show the world that class 1-A has what it takes, to go beyond Plus Ultra!" Iida thrust a fist into the air, visibly crushing down a giddy grin when he actually received an enthusiastic response.

Everyone filed out into the hallway, Izuku herding himself behind Kirishima so he didn't inadvertently end up shuffled to the back of the pack. He was jittery with a nervous blend of anxiety and anticipation, Kacchan's fire boiling to the surface and allowing his smile to stay firmly rooted in place.

Iida led them out through a door that would provide access to the main stadium, the distant roar of the crowd immediately ramping up in volume. Present Mic's voice howled enthusiastically over the cheers, his hyping up of class 1-A making Izuku's legs shake with anticipation. The glare of sunlight at the end of the concrete tunnel made his eyes water, and he blinked rapidly in an effort to adjust his vision.

The first transitional steps from echoing concrete to solid earth baking under the sun took Izuku's breath away, his pupils constricting as he was assaulted on all sides by an explosion of cheers, the stands stretching so high he half expected them to be engulfed by clouds. Every row was packed to the gills, an ocean of bodies looking down on him. All his bravado and excitement was snuffed in an instant, the reality of how many people were watching, would see him forcing him to practically step on Kirishima's heels to hide himself, his smile decomposing with every second that passed.

He struggled to turn his focus inwards, forcing himself to take slow, even breaths and attempt to block out the crowd around him. It was okay, it was okay, it was okay, they weren't staring at him or judging him, he was fine, he could do it, he was strong enough, all he had to do was focus on his goal of doing his best. He repeated those self-affirming thoughts as if they were holy mantras, mumbling them under his breath until his syllables were recognizable as actual language again.

He tuned back into reality just in time to realize that Ms. Midnight was the master of ceremonies for the tournament, and she had just called up Kacchan for the school pledge. Izuku's stomach split apart and piled into his feet, breath hitching at the sight of his explosive classmate loping up to the mic, his hands shoved in his pockets.

He glanced at the mic as if it had personally insulted him, taking another step forward to speak into it. "This is for everyone in the crowd... keep your traps shut when I'm winning, I don't need you distracting me." Izuku winced so hard his face hurt, a long moment of awkward silence hanging in the arena before a smattering of jeers erupted from the stands. "HEY, SCREW YOU," Bakugou bellowed into the mic, "WHY DON'T YOU COME DOWN HERE AND BOO IN MY FACE YOU SONUVA-"

Midnight hastily snatched the microphone off its stand, practically kicking Bakugou off the stage. Her normally devious grin looked slightly strained, and she cleared her throat before speaking. "Well, without further ado, let's take a look at our first event!" The blank screen behind her suddenly lit up like a slot machine, a single box of text blurring rapidly between illegible letters before suddenly stopping on- "Oooh, looks like we've got ourselves an Obstacle Race! All our contestants will be vying for the top in this four kilometer run around the outside of the stadium. As long as you don't stray off course, anything goes! Contestants, head to the starting gate!"

Izuku's heart thundered in his chest, the wiry grasp of Living Nightmare squeezing it until he was sure it would burst. The starting gate tunnel was a bottleneck, and the sheer number of people around him were sure to be crammed inside like sardines in their rush to make it outside. An obstacle right from the starting line; surely he wouldn't be the only one to pick up on it. But there wasn't much he could use to his advantage, considering he couldn't use Living Nightmare in close quarters. He'd either have to force his way through with brute strength, or take advantage of any openings he found. His gaze drifted to the back of Kirishima's spiky red hair, his plan formulating the moment the buzzer sounded.

He was almost instantly shoved and jostled, feet desperately pounding the dirt as Present Mic's voice rang out over the commotion. ["Looks like we've got ourselves an EXPLOSIVE start to the race, ladies and gentlemen!"] Izuku tuned out the rest of his commentary, every ounce of his focus poured into not loosing sight of Kirishima. His friend moved like a mining drill, his bulk and the added solidity of his Quirk allowing him to easily force his way through the squirming sea of bodies. Izuku shadowed every step he took, already gasping for deep, measured breaths in his effort to keep up.

Stray elbows and shoulders knocked into him from all sides, jostling him back and forth. His chest felt tight from the claustrophobic discomfort, but he pushed on, chasing his shining red beacon with fire igniting in his blood as the light at the end of the tunnel grew nearer, sunlight glaring in Izuku's eyes-

And then his fire was snuffed by a blast of cold, the floor freezing under his feet and ice crystals forming on the soles of his shoes. His yelp of shock was swallowed by similar outcries, and Izuku frantically shifted his feet to avoid them being locked in place. He slid forward as a result, knocking hard into the back of another student and scrambling to keep his balance.

"Sorry about that," Todoroki's mild tone rang out from ahead, the heterochromatic boy skating effortlessly on the icy path left behind by his right foot and leaving everyone else in the dust. Something unfamiliar burned in Izuku's chest, a heat that forced him to slide across the ice in slow, measured steps, his arms held out to maintain balance.

A sudden rush of heat and force sent him toppling over, the sight of Kacchan blazing forward with a staccato of explosions burning into his vision. "YOU'RE NOT GETTING OFF THAT EASY, YOU MOTHER FUCKER!" His scream of fury acted as a sounding call, Kirishima's voice joining in a wordless yell as he flung himself to the front of the pack, Hardened footsteps shattering the ice underneath him. Yayorozu and Aoyama both jetted after him, propelled by a length of steel piping and a brilliantly shining laser respectively.

Izuku stared after them in wordless wonder before snapping back into action, lines burning across his chest when he forced himself to his feet. Every step was infuriatingly slow, students around him quickly recovering from the surprise freeze and blitzing past him. The stretch of hard packed earth that hadn't been frozen over was quickly filled with scrambling bodies, and the air above it filling with more mobile students. Tokoyami soared like a bird of prey with Dark Shadow's claws propelling him forward, Ojirou nimbly leaping only a half second behind him.

Izuku's heart lodged in his throat, partially from pride in his friends and classmates and partially from the dread of not being able to make it through. He shoved himself forward with wild abandon, slipping on a patch of ice that painfully deposited him on hard earth. He had no time to ache, heels kicking up dust as he sprinted low to the ground, short trees and stone dividers blurring at the edges of his vision. He'd almost caught up to the leaders of the pack, the narrow path suddenly widening into-

["Heeeey, what's that I see? Oh oh oh, it looks like the robot apocalypse came a little earlier than predicted!"] As if on cue, a gaggle of the Entrance Exam robots circled the bottleneck, their eyes red and glassy and their weapons primed. Izuku skidded to a halt along with everyone else as a dust storm rose in the distance, occasionally revealing snatches of the massive zero pointers responsible for it. ["I hope you're all ready to crunch some numbers, because if you're not, they won't hesitate to crunch you!"]

There was a short moment of hesitation where Izuku's neck craned up, up, up to see the very tops of the pack of zero pointers, their bodies a solid obstacle to prevent anyone from getting through. Izuku was halfway through simultaneously staving off a panic attack and formulating a plan of action when a swathe of the robots were consumed by a howling blizzard, massive chunks of ice crystals climbing up their chassis until they looked like ice sculptures.

Izuku could see the blur of red and white that must have been Todoroki skating between frozen legs, looking for all the world as if he hadn't expended any effort at all. Izuku's chest clenched, and he dug as deep as he could to find that fire, to boil his veins until he could push through his fear-and then the zero pointers toppled over in a deafening groan of metal, sending massive plumes of dust in the air as their collisions shook the earth underfoot.

["There goes Shouto Todoroki from class 1-A, taking an early lead after a stunning display of raw power and technique! Now that's someone to keep an eye on, folks!"] Izuku's eyes watered from the sudden assault of dust, eyelids reflexively squeezing shut until he was sure it had passed. He hesitantly cracked his eyes open when the wind stopped battering his face, blood running cold at the sight of the still formidable legion of mechanical enemies present on the battlefield. He scanned his surroundings carefully, looking for some sort of opening-when his throat closed up, the absence of spiky red hair ripping a hole in his chest. Kirishima's name rose on his tongue in a desperate shout-

The downed zero pointer in front of him suddenly burst open, Kirishima clawing his way out of the metal as if it were made of rice paper. "Holy shit, where do they even get the cash for these things?!" His incredulous voice rang out, prompting Izuku into motion. He barely had time to take a single step forward before the air rang with the crackle of explosives, Bakugou rocketing through the air as his palms lit up in rhythmic bursts. He shot himself clear over the head of the zero pointer in his way, his aerial dexterity leaving Izuku dizzy and dry mouthed.

His heartbeat pulsed in his ears as more and more of his classmates boldly made their way forward, static closing in on the edges of his vision. There was no way he could win, no way no way no way, not without his Quirk, he had to use it, had to make his training worth something, he couldn't let down his friends, couldn't let all their help be for nothing, couldn't disappoint Kacchan, couldn't let Kirishima down-

Izuku's body twisted into a sprinter's stance, his shoulders held low and his fingertips pressed to the dirt, with one leg sliding further behind him. He reached for the wires that held him taut, his chest scorching hot, and he pulled. Izuku pushed himself forward with one foot, earth crumbling underneath him as he screamed through the air in a cloud of twisting black fumes, a foot deep crater left behind by his takeoff. The whistling air cut at him like razors, his face stinging but his teeth gritted in a smile, static ringing in his ears but not loud enough, not enough to pull him apart. The ground was a blur of color beneath him, the entire world melting away as he soared, streaking like a comet over the blur of robots and a stretch of earth carved apart into precarious pillars and connecting ropes.

["LADIES AND GENTLEMAN IZUKU MIDORIYA OF CLASS 1-A HAS JUST BLASTED HIMSELF INTO AN INCREDIBLE LEAD! HE CLEARED THE FIRST TWO OBSTACLES LIKE IT WAS NOTHING! IT'S AMAZING, IT'S ASTOUNDING, IT'S UNBELIEVABLE!"] Izuku struggled to breathe around the air forced into his face, forcibly welding together the beginnings of fissures in his consciousness. His stomach lurched and roiled uncomfortably, but he bit back his nausea with a mouthful of fire. He could win, he could do it, he could prove himself, prove he had what it took to be a hero, could prove himself wrong about how useless he'd always felt. His momentum began slowing, pitching him in a dramatically curving arc towards the hard packed earth below. From what he could tell, there was only one obstacle left, and then he'd win the first round. Tears budded in his eyes as he plummeted, the heat of determination swelling in his chest-

And then Izuku's eyes widened as he realized he hadn't thought of a plan for how to land, and it was too late to use Living Nightmare as a backup. Overcome with a riptide of emotions and struggling to fight through the beginnings of dissociation, Izuku was forced to sum up his predicament quickly and plainly. "Oh, shit," he muttered faintly, and then his world erupted into starbursts of agony as he slammed into the dirt.

Chapter 27

Chapter Text

Earth and skin tore in equal measure as Izuku carved a groove into the dirt with his disastrous landing, a choked cry pulled from his chest when his right arm twisted underneath him, something under his skin igniting in a firestorm of pain. He could just barely manage to pinpoint the white hot core of the injury in his upper arm, sobbing for breath and barely holding back a surge of nausea. Spots of blood were already seeping through his sleeve, a massive strip of skin along his forearm had been rubbed raw, and his wrist throbbed with debilitating sparks when he twitched his fingers. The moment he tried to move his arm out from under him, his vision swam out of focus and his ears rang like church bells.

The miserable shadow that hung over Izuku urged him to stay face down in the dirt, to forget his chance of victory and cease his delusions of exceeding his own expectations. He'd barely even begun and he'd already failed, a single use of his Quirk ending in catastrophe. What kind of hero couldn't even use his own power without breaking himself apart?

He endured an eternity of despair locked in a handful of breathless seconds, overwhelmed by his likely broken arm and dislocated wrist, and the aches and scrapes covering the rest of his body. It was so much, it was so much pain, heavy and constricting and crushing him into uselessness, but he couldn't afford to give up. Izuku grit his teeth until his jaw ached, bracing himself before he turned over to relieve the pressure on his arm. His nerves screamed in protest at even that slight movement, but he couldn't stop, he had to keep going. He still had one arm, and he still had his legs, and he still had Kacchan's fire singing in his veins.

Izuku forced himself to his feet in a single motion, his right arm limp and throbbing at his side but his left fist clenched with determination. He furiously blinked away the tears staining his vision, and risked a glance over his shoulder. The rest of the competitors had already begun the second obstacle, Todoroki narrowly leading in a spray of frost and finesse with Bakugou hot on his tail, a screaming fireball of rage and power. They were a terrifying sight, both of them determined and capable and entirely in control of their Quirks.

But it wasn't hopeless yet. Izuku's arm throbbed and burned horribly, but it was-bearable, when he wasn't lying on top of it. The right side of his head ached and his legs were shaky from his enhanced jump and the urge to cry hummed at the back of his head, but he still had a chance. He held fast to the fire in his veins, forcing his legs to move him forward, desperate energy revving him up into a dead run. He cleared the short strip of dirt ahead of him, his footsteps echoed on the stone transition between the end of the second obstacle and the beginning of the third. His ears rang with the distant noise of dozens of Quirks activating, an audible timer counting down his chance of winning.

He barely listened to Present Mic's commentary, catching the word 'minefield' and immediately pushing himself onward. The mines were buried shallow enough for him to see under the dirt, arranged in a randomized pattern that'd make it difficult for him to simply memorize and bypass. He picked his way through open ground with as much fervor as he dared, footsteps measured and calculated to grant him as much distance as possible. It was clearly the intended design of the obstacle, to slow down those in the lead so that stragglers had a chance to catch up. From an objective standpoint it was both fair in design and likely to provide quite a bit of excitement for spectators, but all Izuku could really think about was the lurch in his stomach whenever he nearly brushed the edge of a mine, and the quickly approaching cacophony of Kacchan's explosions.

He'd made it nearly halfway through when the name 'Todoroki' rang out through slightly tinny speakers, Izuku's heart stuttering between its frantic beats, his breath coming in pained pants tinged with hysteria. He wasn't fast enough to outpace anyone that caught up to him, wasn't versatile enough to fend off any attacks that came his way, which only left him with one choice. Izuku twisted around on one foot the moment he ceased his forward momentum, eyes locking on Todoroki's thin lipped expression for half a moment before he struck from forty feet away. Living Nightmare gushed from his left hand in noxious clouds, his fingers twitching into crescents and his arm jerking upwards as if he were wrenching something from the soil. His vision turned to spots of static for a few seconds, his temporary blindness forcing him to stay still. The earth rumbled beneath his feet, but he couldn't hear if he'd accomplished his objective or not.

The moment his white noise receded Izuku flung himself forward, glancing over his shoulder for half a second to catch a glimpse of the entrance to the mindfield erupting with colorful explosions, the gouges he'd carved into the earth enough to detonate the mines around them. He didn't have time to look for Todoroki amidst the vibrant smoke, instead shifting his focus to making sure he didn't blow himself up. Every inch that shrank between himself and the finish line served to further tighten the knot in his chest, his eyes burning but not spilling over. He was so close, so close-

"YOU HAVEN'T WON YET, IZUKU!" Kacchan's voice roared over the sloshing blood in Izuku's ears, his thunderous explosions ringing out like death knells. He couldn't afford to turn around and confirm the distance between them, panic devouring all thought as his left arm swung out in a wild, cleaving arc, consumed by inky fumes like black phosphorous. He screamed to drown out the static, his arm turning numb and his legs stiffening like lead, but he could still barely see, could still avoid the mines, the exit was only a few feet away and the earth shook behind him in a symphony of detonations as if it was urging him on, nipping at his heels and pushing him to go beyond. Izuku had to chase the light, he had to chase it even if it burned him alive, because anything was better than the howling abyss of despair he'd only just begun to crawl from.

He sobbed aloud when he cleared the end of the minefield, his chest heaving with breaths he struggled to keep deep and even, barely hovering at the edge of hysterical hyperventilation. The concrete tunnel ahead swam in his vision, the taste of sour copper rising in the back of his throat with each labored lungful of air. Izuku poured every remaining ounce of effort into pushing himself as fast as he could, horribly aware of the presence of Bakugou and Todoroki at his back. He had a chance, he had a chance and he couldn't let it slip away, no matter what.

"I KNOW YOU CAN GO FASTER THAN THAT, YOU FUCK! FUCKING PROVE IT, IZUKU! PROVE YOU WANT TO FUCKING WIN! DO IT, DO IT!" Kacchan's booming yells, overflowing with furious passion, flooded his ignited veins with fuel. Wisps of dark smoke bled from Izuku as if from an overheating engine, his legs burning and his lungs screaming for oxygen as he cleared his first step into the tunnel. Every sound turned warped and echoing, the walls ringing with his desperate panting and the thundering footsteps behind him. The air turned frigid at his back, footsteps clacking against ice and catching up, catching up, catching up-

The world turned still and silent, time crawling to a halt and the dim concrete walls closing in with suffocating darkness. Dimly, Izuku was aware of the presence of Shouto Todoroki at his side, his determination and level-headedness frozen in his veins. Heterochromatic eyes twitched once in their sockets, pupils dilated with fear. Eyes like toxic green oceans stared back, glinting with a sickly light that eased the breath from his lungs until they were shriveled and dead. A whisper infused with static twisted through the air, a thing that pierced and burrowed and lived beyond the echo of sound.

"Fall."

In a fraction of an instant, Todoroki went from pumping limbs and sure footed speed to a crumpling heap on the floor, wheezing for the breath that had been stolen from him. Bakugou's breathless curse ricocheted off the walls as he stumbled over the prone form, and Izuku cleared the final stretch with glazed over eyes and blood dribbling from the corners of his lips. The roar of the crowd was a distant buzz in his ears when he emerged into blinding sunlight, his legs faltering and sending him collapsing into the dirt. He panted and heaved for air, eyes wide and glassy as he stared, uncomprehendingly, at his own face on the massive screens set up around the stadium.

"I... d-did I win? It-I r-really won?" Izuku's chest tightened with a surge of emotion, pride and elation and relief and disbelief sitting like molten weights. "I-it's not a joke, r-right?" His voice crumbled and cracked, barely audible to his own ears through the sobs bubbling in the back of his throat. But it was still his face on the screen, he was still the first one to make it back, it was real. "I-I really...?" Izuku trembled on his knees in the dirt, his right arm throbbing from broken bones and broken skin, his mouth oozing blood and his limbs burning from overexertion, and he was sure he'd never felt more complete in his entire life. The first sob ripped out of him like a peal of laughter, something so much brighter than the inky sludge of his misery. He was happy. He was happy.

"Midoriya! Midoriya!" Izuku glanced over his shoulder at the sound of his name, wrapped in an exhilarated yell. His heart thudded at the sight of Kirishima, cheeks flushed from exertion and lips pulled into a beaming grin. "Holy shit man, you killed it out there! That was awesome!" A fuzzy part of Izuku's brain concluded that he must have been delusional from overusing his Quirk, because there was no other explanation for the adoration and exuberance that poured from Kirishima's toothy grin and sparkling eyes like waves of golden sunshine.

Izuku desperately fought the urge to blink, unable to tear his gaze away even if he'd wanted to. But the blur of tears and sweat forced his eyes shut, and he rubbed at them with a trembling hand to clear his vision. "Kirishima," he croaked, so choked up with his erupting geyser of emotions that he couldn't possibly form further words. He smiled as hard as he could, until the spots dancing behind his eyelids turned white and his left cheek began to ache with exertion.

When he opened his eyes again Kirishima's face had fallen into abject concern, eyes wide and locked on Izuku's right arm. "Oh man, Midoriya, your arm-you kept goingwith that? We need to get you to Recovery Girl-"

"I-It's okay it's o-okay," Izuku babbled, his awareness slipping further with every passing moment. "S'fine, I c-can-I can d-do it with one a-arm it's okay-" He tipped forwards when a warm hand landed on his left shoulder, fingers gripping firmly enough to keep him kneeling upright. He stared into blood orange tides with dazed pupils, starbursts of color blooming in his vision even when he wasn't blinking. The hand pulled gently at his arm and he whined in protest, shaking his head until his stomach lurched. "No, n-no, I'm gonna miss t-the next event," he protested weakly, dragging his feet in the dirt less out of denial and more from an inability to do otherwise when he was lifted from his knees.

"I promise you're not gonna get cut from the tournament because of an injury," Kirishima's voice washed over him in a soothing wave, and Izuku clung to the sound of it as his eyes started slipping shut without his permission. "And if they don't wait for you, then I will." Izuku stirred as his arm was thrown over Kirishima's shoulders, idly acknowledging the role reversal.

"Y-you can't," Izuku mumbled, unable to muster the energy to sound panicky. "I-if you drop out, n-nobody'll get to see how cool y-you are." The numb burn of his arm and the drain of Living Nightmare loosened his tongue, but Izuku wasn't in the right state of mind to worry about it. He couldn't let Kirishima sacrifice his chance to compete for no reason.

"Hey, don't sweat it, Midoriya. I'd still have two more chances, right? Just hang tight, we'll get you fixed up in no time." His friend's tone of voice was friendly and reassuring enough to mostly convince him, Izuku only humming in response as he blinked languidly at the ground disappearing under his limp legs. "Hey Uraraka! Could I get a hand over here?"

Izuku's world faded away into muddied impressions of color and distant, muffled sounds. He poured the final drops of his consciousness into chasing the sturdy warmth at his side, infinitely grounding, even when it felt like his whole body had been released from the tethers of gravity. He'd won, and he'd been hurt, but it was alright. He knew Kirishima would take care of him.
--
The first thing that occurred to Izuku Midoriya upon reaching a state of wakefulness where he could actually form coherent thoughts and recognize them as his own was that it was absolutely baffling he was awake at all, because he was unbelievably exhausted. Weariness sank into the cracks of his bones, turning his marrow to cement and forcing him to straddle the line between slumber and full consciousness. He groaned in displeasure, struggling to sit up on the thin, stiff mattress he was lying on.

"Hey, hey, take it easy, Midoriya. You gotta save that energy for the next event, man." Izuku frantically blinked open his leaden eyelids, alarm stirring the heavy clumps of ashes in his chest. The sight of Kirishima's smiling visage would normally have been enough to help quell his heightening emotions, but considering the situation at hand it only exacerbated them.

"K-Kirishima! Y-you-p-please tell me you d-didn't miss the next event-" Izuku forced himself into a sitting position with one arm, gaze flickering to take in his surroundings. They were both sitting in a large canvas tent that reminded Izuku of military movies, sunlight bleeding faintly through the drab green cover to illuminate the rows of patient beds and plethora of medical equipment set up inside. He couldn't be sure what time of day it was without a clock, but it didn't feel like too much time had passed.

"Don't worry about it, man, they're givin' us some time to recharge between events. We still got half an hour before we gotta meet up again." Kirishima leaned over the side of the fold out chair he was seated on, retrieving something that was out of Izuku's line of sight. He shot back up a moment later with a triumphant smile, holding out a cardboard box that reeked of mouthwatering festival food, along with a pair of cheap plastic chopsticks. "I brought lunch! Figured you could use some energy after Recovery Girl patched you up."

"O-oh! Um, thank you, b-but you didn't have to-I can pay you back i-if you want-" Despite his verbal hesitance, Izuku's growling stomach urged him to reach out and accept the offered food. He'd been so nervous before the festival that he'd barely even touched his breakfast, and while running on an empty stomach had kept him from throwing up, it was starting to cramp from hunger.

"No need to pay me back. Just think of it as a 'congrats' for getting first in the race, if you want." Kirishima's grin softened a little at the edges, a transition that forced a flush on Izuku's cheeks and made it difficult for him to maintain eye contact. "You really did do amazing out there, man. I honestly wasn't super sure at first; not 'cause I doubted your ability to win or anything, I just didn't know you could be so competitive. It's nice to see you really get into the spirit of things."

Izuku did a poor job of pretending to be distracted by his food, blood darkening the tips of his ears as he fumbled with opening the box and snapping apart his chopsticks. "T-t-thanks," he mumbled, eyes locked on his first few bites of food, "b-but I was really j-just lucky everything worked out s-so well. I-it wasn't some.. p-plan, or anything; I j-just kinda freaked out most of the time, a-and I totally busted up my arm-"

"C'mon, don't sell yourself short, Midoriya! Sure, you might've totally broken your arm, but you kept goin' anyway, right? I'm pretty sure you can't say luck helped you with that." Kirishima scooted his chair over far enough for him to rest a hand on Izuku's shoulder, making him stiffen up. "You shouldn't think about what could'a gone wrong and chalk your victory up to luck. From where I'm standin', all I see is that you kicked some major ass and won all on your own."

"...I-it's just h-hard for me to believe," Izuku admitted softly, voice cracking with emotion. He stared down at his immobile hands through a sheen of tears, breaths hitching on each exhale. "I-I was-f-for so long, I th-thought I couldn't d-do anything right, t-that I'd always be n-nothing but a screw up. A-and even when I made it into U.A., I w-was just waiting for s-someone to r-realize how worthless I was-" Izuku choked on his own words, a distant part of him furious at his inability to not break down. It wasn't as if he'd never spoken about his feelings of inadequacy before; Ms. Atsuko had talked him through episodes of crippling self-doubt more than once. But revealing it to someone like Kirishima, who looked at him like he was someone incredible-

Izuku weakly obliged Kirishima's one armed embrace, turning to press his face into a firm shoulder rather than fail to make eye contact. He hiccuped and shuddered around barely contained sobs, stomping them down to avoid exhausting himself further with another bout of emotional turmoil. "..I'm really not super great with emotional stuff," Kirishima began, his voice low and gentle and containing only faint traces of his normal bombast, "but if it helps at all, I think you're pretty amazing, Midoriya. And I'd think that even if you hadn't come in first place. You could'a come in last, and I'd still think you're amazing."

"Y-you're just saying that," Izuku uttered bleakly, his voice thankfully muffled by Kirshima's shoulder.

"I'm serious, man! You work so hard at everything you do, you never give up, even when you're afraid-you're.. kind of inspiring." Izuku stilled in shock, his heartbeat deafening in his own ears. "And I know I can't just change your mind right away, or anything. I.." Kirishima's tone fell a few notches, empathy overflowing from his words, "I get that it doesn't work like that. I just hope that one day you don't have to feel like you're not good enough."

"K-Kirishima.." A thousand trains of thought collided in Izuku's head, the beginnings of hundreds of sentences building on the tip of his tongue, but none of them could possibly convey the weight of his feelings. He sniffled and gently eased himself from Kirishima's embrace, face wet with tears but his eyes shining underneath them. "T-thank you," he mumbled awkwardly, unsatisfied with his inability to articulate properly.

"It's no problem," Kirishima replied, brightness seeping back into his voice. "C'mon, we should get outta here before we miss the event. And before Recovery Girl gets a chance to chew you out for messin' up your arm." The redhead offered a hand to help him up, and Izuku shyly took it. Kirishima's fingers squeezing around his own when the other boy helped him up brought color flooding back into his face, his heart clenching with an echo of the sensation. Izuku's right arm was still stiff and aching, and his wrist still twinged with every movement, but it was better than a shattered humerus and dislocated wrist joints. Maybe the second event wouldn't be so bad.
--
Ten minutes later, Izuku had been frozen into a husk of quivering terror by the yawning shadow of his peers, the astronomical weight of ten million points painting a literal target on his forehead. Maybe, he thought faintly, he should have just dropped out instead.

Chapter 28

Chapter Text

Izuku's pillars of confidence crumbled into ash, like the petals of a flower thrown into the sun. He understood that, logically, placing first in the very beginning probably hadn't been the best idea from a long-term point of view. If he'd put a little more thought into the competition he could have hung back in the race just far enough to not grab attention but close enough to not be cut from the second event, and then he'd have been in a comfortable position come the Cavalry Battle. It was absolutely pragmatic and reasonable, and Izuku almost felt ashamed of how easily he'd been blinded by the light of winning.

But that was all assuming his end goal was to give himself the best chances of winning the entire competition, or at least doing well enough to leave a lasting impression. He certainly didn't want to not win, but the point of the Sport's Festival as a whole was to be noticed by talent scouts to get a decent first foothold into a professional career. Perhaps when Izuku was younger (and more hopeful) he'd fancied delusions of being the world's greatest hero, to save people like All Might did: with strength and charisma and a beaming smile. But if he'd ever even had a chance in the first place, he'd finally killed it off upon refusing One For All.

All he wanted was to help people, to turn the horrible thing under his skin into a force of good instead of unerring destruction and torment. Winning the obstacle race had been his first ever taste of it, the first fingers of heroic light that meant he could rise above his mental illness, he could go beyond the bleak certainty of Living Nightmare. As much as it put him in a less than desirable position in the Cavalry Battle, he wouldn't ever pretend to regret it. He'd have run forty kilometers with two broken arms if it meant he could prove himself to be more than his anguish and insecurity, more than the shaking, anxious boy that cried at the drop of a hat and had no chance of accomplishing anything in life. He had to be more than that.

Of course, that was all easier said than done, especially when he had forty some-odd opponents that all had a lifetime of practice and understanding of their Quirks to fall back on, when he'd only begun making progress in the last month after ten years of violently hating himself. Izuku spent the entirety of Midnight's explanation of the event standing as still and hunched as possible, which did very little to ward off the heavy, judging stares he'd been inundated with. He wasn't exactly a stranger to negative attention, but having it so focused and overwhelming and palpable that he could practically taste it in the air made him feel queasy and frail, like he was still a cowering middle schooler dully expectant of ridicule and sneering disdain.

Izuku was barely strong enough to twitch when the timer began for team assembly, the weight of challenging stares falling away, but the chains of uncertainty holding fast. His position in the lead was an extreme deterrent to anyone who might've been willing to partner with him, which meant he had to think very carefully about what few choices he actually had-

"Heeey, Midoriya! You ready to win this thing or what?" Izuku choked out a yelp as his train of thought was physically derailed, solid arms scooping him off his feet and settling him on broad shoulders as if he weighed next to nothing. He shrieked a tinny note and glanced down at an eyeful of spiky red hair, practically blinded by only a glimpse of Kirishima's shark toothed grin and bright eyes. "Jeez man, you need to eat more; I think I could pick you up with one hand."

Every iota of Izuku's thought processes buzzed with an overload of electricity in a single moment, fried to a crisp by a thousand different sensory sources (passionate fervor blinding grins the warmth of body heat arms that could snap him in half) and left him sputtering out half finished sentences. "Y-you- Kirishima, y-you can't-s-shouldn't you find a t-team-the m-match didn't even s-start why are y-you-"

"Whoa, whoa, take it easy, man. As nice as it is to hear you pumped up, I can't understand a word you're sayin'." Kirshima nonchalantly adjusted Izuku's weight to sit more comfortably across his shoulders, oblivious to the twitching hands that hovered in the air above his head, unable to decide whether they should grab on for more stability or not. "Who else you want for the team, Midoriya? I'm sure you already got a killer game plan in mind."

Izuku pulled his hands close against his chest and anxiously rubbed the stiffness from his right fingers. "Y-you don't have to feel obligated to p-partner up with me just b-because we're friends, Kirishima. I-it's alright, r-really. I'd.. p-probably just slow you down-"

"It's not like that, man, really! I mean it kinda is-not the obligation part, but the friend part." Kirishima locked a hand around Izuku's thigh when he turned to start moving, and if he noticed Izuku stiffening up he didn't mention it. "But other than that, we've got pretty good synergy, considering I'm one of like, six people that actually understands how your Quirk works. My Hardening should be enough to block any debris from you tearin' shit up, and since you don't have much defense I can take any blows comin' your way. And because you're such a string bean," Kirishima continued in a teasing tone, forcing heat to the tips of Izuku's ears, "I'll have an easier time maneuvering us out of danger."

"I-I.. th-those are all totally salient points and pretty m-much exactly what I need from the f-front of the horse since m-my strategy basically involves defense and evasion above attack power since I have the t-ten million points and we won't need a-any other headbands if we can keep ours which s-should be feasible if I can u-use my Quirk to dissuade anyone from getting too close and you can defend against anyone that slips by all we'll need is someone with high mobility like Iida and a lot of utility like U-Uraraka, or Tokoyami-" Izuku blinked, his flow of words grinding to a halt without outside intervention for the first time in.. He couldn't even remember the last time he'd started rambling in earshot of someone else and not been interrupted partway.

"Sounds like a solid plan to me," Kirishima tacked on agreeably, the warmth of his fingers through the leg of Izuku's uniform incredibly obvious once his hyper focus had dissolved. "Can you see Iida from up there?"

Izuku shook himself, blinking twice before he began scanning the sea of heads around him. "Y-yeah, he's over to the left-.. t-talking with T-Todoroki." His heart sank at the sight of red and white hair, a surge of retroactive guilt searing his insides. He'd been so absorbed in winning that he'd almost forgotten the final few seconds, had almost forgotten the fear he'd forced into cool eyes, the breath he'd stolen so callously. The cognitive dissonance of wanting to win with all his strength while also not wanting to ever use his Quirk on someone else sent a surge of remorse and discomfort through him, somehow worse than the absolute certainty of dread. At least he knew what dread meant, at least he knew how to regret something. He flinched when a mismatched gaze rose to meet his own, hard enough to nearly fall off Kirishima's shoulders.

"Whoa, what's up, man? You alright?" Kirishima's concern rose up from below him, sturdy fingers squeezing his leg to keep him from falling over. "Is it about Iida?"

"N-no, it's-u-uhm.. j-just.. i-it's nothing," Izuku mumbled, thankful that Kirishima couldn't see the clear guilt in his expression. "W-we-Iida looks busy, w-we should find Uraraka and Tokoyami. I-I can amend my plan a little with both of them in it." Izuku held his breath when Kirishima hesitated for a long moment, before uttering a few words of acquiescence. He fought the impulse to glance over his shoulder, too weak to face the frosty bite of Todoroki's gaze. He spent a few moments half revising his strategy to accommodate Tokoyami in place of Iida, and half trying to quantify how much winning actually meant to him.
--
Izuku secured the velcro point band around his forehead with trembling fingers, mildly appreciative of its ability to keep at least a little bit of fringe out of his field of vision. He'd situated himself above Kirishima, Uraraka and Tokoyami after compartmentalizing his embarrassment for later review, focused intently on the security provided by the closeness of his friends instead of the ticking countdown timer.

It would be fine, he desperately attempted to convince himself. Tokoyami and Dark Shadow would be an incredible left defense, capable of warding off Todoroki's ice if the need arose. Uraraka could watch their more vulnerable right, and relieve them of the weight of gravity whenever they required a quick escape. And Kirishima was an unbreakable wall of defense that could (hopefully) endure any backlash from emergency uses of Living Nightmare. It wasn't foolproof, but it was the best he could hope for. All he could do was make sure he didn't let anyone down.

["Five."]

"You guys ready to kick some ass?" Kirishima's razor sharp grin was practically audible, his ferocious enthusiasm forcing a shiver down Izuku's spine.

["Four."]

"Ha, you know it!" Uraraka's bubbly cheer had taken on a steely edge, her competitive streak having lit a fire under her.

["Three!"]

"This victory shall not escape our grasp." Tokoyami spoke with a calming surety, resolute in the face of adversity.

["Two!"]

"I-I won't let you guys down," Izuku whispered, blinking hard and raising a single trembling hand into position. He could already see at least four other teams (Bakugou, Tetsutetsu, Hagakure, Todoroki) prepared to engage them, which left him no choice but to dissuade them from doing so. He only hoped his voice didn't break too embarrassingly.

["ONE!"] Present Mic's enthusiastic countdown rang out alongside the buzz of the starting sound, every team immediately bursting into motion as the cavalry battle began.

Izuku waited half a breath, eyes wide and unblinking as four teams rushed towards them. He waited until he could feel Uraraka graze a finger against his leg, the constraints of gravity melting away. Izuku met heterochromatic eyes from sixty feet away, and sliced his arm horizontally through the air in a noxious burst of black fumes. His vision darkened into patches of static in the same moment that he tore a jagged crescent through the earth, sending up a shower of dust and debris to create a barrier between the other teams and his own.

The moment Kirishima tapped his leg he threw his voice as loud as it would go, fighting around the building nausea in his stomach as he focused on maintaining the fumes billowing from his half cocked arm. "I-IF YOU WANT THIS H-HEADBAND SO BAD," he yelled at the top of his lungs, desperately injecting as much Kacchan brand intimidation into his tone as possible, "THEN C-COME AND TAKE IT, I-IF YOU'RE BRAVE ENOUGH!" Tokoyami's Dark Shadow emerged on cue, manipulated to look as large and imposing as possible, in addition to providing living cover from any long ranged Quirks.

Three fingers pressed against the back of his leg a few beats later, which was more than he'd expected. His last minute revised plan relied heavily on defense and evasion, since they didn't have much speed without Iida. And since the best defense was a good offense, Izuku had decided to use Living Nightmare as a tool of intimidation. As long as most of the teams were hesitant to get close, then the few that did attack would be easier to deal with. He'd apparently done well enough that three of the teams had hesitated, and he was certain even without vision that the fourth was Kacchan, as he'd expected.

"K-Kirishima, now!" Izuku hissed, his vision bleeding back in spots of color. He braced himself as his 'horse' began charging to the left, directly towards Bakugou's approaching team (composed of Sero, Bakugou, Ashido, and a girl with pink hair and strange goggles that he didn't recognize). Izuku raised his still smoking arm in challenge, vision clear enough to meet the focused molten pits set in Kacchan's head. He forced his face into an uncharacteristically aggressive grin, baring his teeth and hooking his fingers into claws. He stared, unblinking, and read a trace of the hesitance he was hoping to see on Kacchan's face.

He couldn't waste a moment of his advantage, he had to press harder with Kacchan caught off guard. Izuku dropped his arm in a vicious cleave, sending up a geyser of shattered dirt only a few feet away from Sero's leading gait. "W-WHAT'S THE MATTER, KACCHAN? A-ARE YOU SCARED?" Izuku chose his words carefully, knowing that if he pushed the wrong button, Kacchan would explode with rage and pursue him with zealous malice. He focused as hard as he could on controlling his tone around the urge to vomit, his fuming arm numbed and tingling all the way up to his shoulder. "Y-YOU TOLD ME TO TRY MY BEST, S-SO THAT'S WHAT I'M G-GONNA DO! I J-JUST HOPE YOU CAN HANDLE IT!"

"Todoroki's coming right!" Uraraka warned him at the same moment he saw Kacchan erupt, molten eyes burning like thermite. Izuku's heart dropped like a carcass in his chest, he'd made a mistake he'd made a mistake he never should have goaded Kacchan like that, they should have created some distance instead-

"K-Kirishima, b-brace!" Izuku flung his right arm out in a wide arc, his palm flat and fingers stiff. He waited a single beat, static curling in his ears and drowning out most of the noise around him. His sixth attack of the day-he only hoped it would be enough. "NOW!" The moment Kirishima flung the entire horse sideways with the aid of a Hardened jump and Zero Gravity, Izuku's arm stiffened and jerked backwards with a massive burst of recoil that sent him and his team blitzing over open ground, Uraraka kicking up a cloud of dust when she failed to keep both feet off the ground the entire time. The empty air he'd been aiming at rippled and boiled like melting glass, but with nothing to destroy his attack had provided enough kickback to be used for a burst of mobility.

Izuku panted for air, his arm flopping to rest, boneless, at his side as the final curls of fumes drifted into the air and the tug of gravity returned. "I-I'm out," he wheezed, grasping at Kirishima's shoulder with his left hand to try and maintain some semblance of balance. He watched with a half realized surge of astonishment as Iida's speedy assault resulted in a hasty course correction that left Todoroki's whole team tumbling to the ground, their horse dismantled by their effort to not run out of bounds.

"Leave the rest to us," Tokoyami intoned from his left, Dark Shadow rearing up to screech a piercing note at Bakugou's team, all of which looked less than confident about approaching save Kacchan himself. "Todoroki will think twice before approaching again, and Bakugou should prove easy enough to ward off. You've done well, Midoriya."

"Feel free to take a nap or something if you need to, Izuku!" Uraraka chimed cheerfully, a note of vicious delight present in her voice. "I'm sure we can persuade Bakugou to keep the noise down."

"You did awesome, man," Kirishima's voice drifted up to him, less piercing the haze of exhaustion around him and more gently worming its way through. "So be sure to save some of that juice for later. You've got another event comin' up, after all."

Izuku blinked rapidly to clear the moisture from his eyes, twitching his right fingers experimentally. He could barely feel them, and the movement itself was fairly sluggish, but he could likely dredge up one last blow in an emergency. "T-thanks, you guys," he mumbled, his own voice slightly muted by his buzzing senses. "J-just pinch me i-if you need me." He slid his eyes shut for a long moment, the tug of exhaustion at the base of his neck making his head droop. "W-watch out f-for environmental h-hazards from Ashido, K-Kacchan might try to... to p-pin us in. An' Iida's r-really fast.. n' cool, s-so.. don't let him..." Izuku trailed off as he found himself unable to focus on what he was talking about. He was silent for a long moment, eyes closed as he endured the evasive motions of his teammates underneath him and the distant sound of Kacchan screaming obscenities. That was probably nothing to worry about. His friends would be fine without him. Izuku just.. needed a moment to rest his eyes.
--
Shouto Todoroki idly glanced at the scrape along the side of his left hand, a result of his transition from sitting to crashing into the ground. He carefully surveyed the teams nearest to his own, Hakagure's headband secured around his throat above two others and the smell of ozone still pungent from the recent use of Kaminari's Quirk to dissuade an attack by a team from class 1-B. But those teams didn't matter at the moment. He'd already chosen his target, and wouldn't be swayed from victory by lesser distractions.

He refocused his gaze on team Midoriya, watching critically as Tokoyami's Dark Shadow fended off aerial attacks from Bakugou (who was equipped with accessories that kept him in the air longer, presumably from the support class girl on his team) and Kirishima sliced through the lengths of tape Sero shot at him with his own two hands. Midoriya himself wasn't participating very much at all; he looked pale and washed out, even under the light of the afternoon sun. He was unable to keep his eyes open for more than a few seconds at a time, flinching at the sound of explosions but doing nothing to prevent them.

It was fairly obvious that Shouto had underestimated Midoriya's ability to wield the devastating power of his Quirk, Living Nightmare. How something so blatantly menacing and ominous had been attached to a boy as timid and inoffensive as Izuku Midoriya, he'd never understand. What he did know was that Midoriya was more capable than he appeared, more intelligent and versatile than the one-trick Shouto had assumed of him.

He was kind to a clear and obvious fault, but hadn't let it impede his ability to compete with his friends and classmates. He was innovative and quick thinking, using the synergy of those around him to his advantage even under duress. Shouto had made a grave mistake in his assumptions. He hadn't challenged Midoriya from a place of pride, or envy; he'd recognized a threat (though he'd miscalculated the severity of it) and made his stance known. He would beat Midoriya. The damnable eye of his father was on him, and being bested by a boy that could hardly speak complete sentences without stuttering, and cried more in a single conversation than Shouto had in ten years..

Shouto had nothing against him personally, but self preservation had to come first. "Iida," he spoke aloud, mindful of the dwindling minutes on the clock, "you're friends with Midoriya and the rest of his team. Are there any avenues of attack you'd recommend we pursue?" He'd very pointedly not used the words 'weakness' or 'exploit', for despite them being able to get his point across easier, he knew the negative stigma attached to them. Navigating conversations was frequently taxing and more complicated than it needed to be, but he couldn't risk prompting Iida into having second thoughts.

"Ah, well.." Shouto read the hesitation in Iida's voice, patient enough to wait and see if he would come around. "...Whenever Midoriya uses his Quirk, it debilitates his senses, a symptom that compounds with each further use. He's already used it three times in this event, so he's likely feeling the effects. He's also unwilling to use it directly on someone else. If we can close the distance quickly and overwhelm Dark Shadow, we'll be too close for Midoriya to ward us off, and if we cut off any escape routes with your ice.. we'll be in an ideal position to take the headband."

"Sounds like an alright plan," Shouto commented, keeping a careful eye on a furiously tenacious Bakugou's explosive efforts to break through Dark Shadow's defense.

"Bakugou is our biggest issue in enacting it," Yaoyorozu spoke up, an echo of Shouto's own thoughts on the matter. "If we can get between his team and Midoriya's before walling them off, that would be ideal; we'd be able to focus entirely on the offensive, without worrying about exposing our backs."

"Bakugou won't give up unless something else makes him angry. Thankfully, it looks like luck is on our side." Shouto tracked the movement of one of the class 1-B teams, headed straight for the tunnel visioning Bakugou. It would be a scarce time frame to secure a successful attack-they couldn't afford a single misstep. "Yaoyorozu."

"I'm on it," she replied, exposed skin bleeding light as she focused on assembling molecules. Shouto leveled a heavy stare on his target, gazing past unkempt curls and clammy skin and half a set of dusted freckles (a gnarled scar that twisted something vital in his chest when he saw it), recalling instead acidic green eyes that tore the breath from his chest and pierced him through with unbridled terror. He'd underestimated Izuku Midoriya once before, and paid the price. It wouldn't happen again.
--
Izuku was snapped from his haze of half-conscious exhaustion by several extremely alarming events that all took place in a very short amount of time. A pair of fingers pinched his leg hard enough to hurt, snapping him into awareness at the same moment Kirishima shouted his name. His eyes flew open, glazed and blurry as he forced them to quickly refocus and analyze the situation.

Dark Shadow was curled in front of them at a fraction of its original size, shadowy eyes budding with orbs of darkness that vaguely resembled tears. The stench of nitroglycerin burned the inside of his nose and made his eyes water, a testament to the sheer fury of Bakugou's assault. His team had been backed into a border, skirting the very edge of the playing field in an effort to create distance from Bakugou's team.

Kacchan himself wasn't even facing them, revealing only the half profile of his screaming rage as a competitor Izuku didn't recognize twirled a point headband around his finger, his smug grin surely sending Kacchan into hellish levels of loathing. He would have felt relieved at the sight of Kacchan turning his attention towards someone else, if not for the walls of thick ice crystals that sprouted from the ground between them.

He jerked his head to the side to find Todoroki only moments away from bearing down on them, some sort of thin sheet thrown over himself, Yaoyorozu, and Iida. He connected the dots half a second too late, screaming a warning just as Kaminari lit up in a surge of electrical discharge. "T-TOKOYAMI!"

He threw his arms up to cover his face for all the good it would do against being shocked by thousands of volts of electricity, his eyes squeezed shut for half a second before he realized Dark Shadow had absorbed the blow, screeching in distress before it retreated back into Tokoyami's core. "Midoriya, look out-" Kirishima's warning came moments too late, Izuku's eyes blowing wide as he was assaulted by a blur of color, fingers raking through his hair and snatching his headband faster than he could blink.

"Thanks for keeping it warm for me," Todoroki stated mildly, securing the band around his neck as the countdown timer reached the final digits. Despair howled inside of Izuku's chest, clawing at the inside of his rib cage and scraping his bones with ragged notches. Blood thundered in his ears in a searing hot torrent, spitting flames and reminding him that he had to win, had to win, had to win-

["Ten!"]

"Kirishima, brace! Uraraka, now!" Izuku felt himself slip from gravity's hold, desperately hooking his left arm around in a wild curve that tore ice and soil apart in a devastating eruption, shards of frost zipping through the air like shrapnel to cut off Todoroki's escape. He could see the smoke leaking from Iida's engines, they had to be overheated, or at least close enough that they couldn't get away in time- "GO!" Izuku fired blindly behind them with his right arm, launching them forward like the shell from an artillery cannon. His arms billowed with black fumes like smokestacks, hot and aching and completely invisible to him.

["Five!"]

Izuku reached out blindly with one numb, trembling arm, roughly estimating the position of Todoroki's neck by comparing his location prior to Izuku losing his vision to the speed and trajectory he'd been moving at. He clenched his fingers at the barest hint of sensation, gripping them in as tight of a fist as he could manage. He heard snatches of sound through blaring static, but was unable to make sense of them until-

["OOOONE! THAT'S IT FOLKS, THIS BATTLE IS OOOVEEEER!"] A loud buzzer sounded off the end of the event, and Izuku was dimly aware of the moment his friends ceased to move underneath him. He started at the feeling of a palm slotting against his own, blindly curling his fingers until he found purchase. He only realized that Zero Gravity had worn off when he was helped down off his position as the rider, blinking frequently to try and disperse the static that blinded him.

"D-did we..?" Izuku rubbed together the fingers of his right hand, and crumbled wholly and absolutely when he realized it was completely empty. The fire in his blood turned to frigid sludge, a bitter surge of defeat rising in the back of his throat on the fumes of his knotted stomach. His breathing hitched and snagged on every inhale, shortening into shallow, rattling gasps for air. "I-I, I d-didn't-I d-didn't g-get th-the-"

"Izuku, it's okay, it's okay! It's alright, I promise!" Slender arms wrapped around his torso, a gentle pressure desperate to imbibe him with reassurance. He leeched onto Uraraka's warmth like a parasite, trembling hands grasping futilely at the back of her uniform. "It's alright, Izuku, please just take a deep breath-"

"I-It's n-n-not alright," he croaked, desperation and despair gushing through the cracks in his voice. "I-I'm t-the reason w-we, w-we-"

["-and in fourth place, team Midoriya! These four teams are moving up to the final round!"] The calamity raging inside of Izuku's chest stilled and dispersed into nothingness, shock resonating through him like a bell struck by a hammer. He dared to crack his eyes open when Uraraka pulled away, the blinding grin on her lips making him tremble.

"Hey, Midoriya!" Kirishima's elation shook every molecule of Izuku Midoriya's physical makeup until he was sure he would fly apart, gaze welded to fiery red hair that blazed in the sun, blood orange eyes that were squinted nearly shut from the force of a grin that shone with ethereal light, and the pair of headbands that dangled from Kirishima's fist. "Sorry I couldn't get the ten million points back, it was kinda short notice. Warn a guy next time you wanna pull a totally manly move like that, okay?"

Izuku's eyes burned with buds of nectar sweet tears, his heart fluttering in his chest as his blood sang with a surge of emotion he could only tentatively label 'adoration'. He sobbed around his own smile, face aching from the gratitude he could never hope to properly express. He opened his mouth to try and put even a fraction of it into words, but instead of tearful thanks, his long ignored nausea decided that the first thing out of his mouth would be the entire contents of his stomach. He was fairly sure Kirishima got the message, either way. And, Izuku reflected with an air of optimism, it at least gave them the excuse to eat lunch together.

Chapter 29

Chapter Text

Izuku Midoriya stood stock still, half masked by the shadow of the doorway he'd been lead into. He could faintly hear the rest of his classmates and fellow competitors headed to lunch, a thought that made his own stomach coil and knot with discomfort. He was starving after the unfortunate loss of his previous meal, and his mouth was dry and tacky from thirst. But it would have to wait. Kirishima, who had eyed him with concern and doubt when he excused himself with half a smile, would have to wait.

Because the heavy, narrowed gaze of Shouto Todoroki rooted him to the cement, as if phantoms of glimmering ice were creeping up his legs and chilling him down to the marrow of his bones. Todoroki wasn't intimidating in the way Kacchan was, wasn't an eruption of noise and violence that never ceased exploding. He wasn't intimidating in the way Mr. Aizawa was, clouded in devouring silence and turning muscle to stone with a single glance.

Todoroki was intimidating because Izuku had zero insight into what he was thinking, or feeling, or planning. One of Izuku's few strengths was his ability to read faces, and voices, and bodies as if they were written in clear lettering. He didn't always know what to make of the information he analyzed, but having it available was enough to ease off the edge of his lack of social knowledge. But he couldn't read anything from Todoroki. He was completely opaque and uniform, and Izuku couldn't even be sure if it was a result of his parchment being blank, or because he'd completely doused himself in ink.

The tense silence between them dragged on long enough or Izuku's discomfort to reach its first break point, his hands trembling minutely and his gaze flickering between Todoroki's silent visage and the space between the tips of his shoes. He dredged up an iota of initiative, deciding that if Todoroki wasn't going to say anything, then he'd at least use the chance to make his own thoughts known.

"I-I'm sorry," Izuku blurted, his gaze affixed to a spot on the bridge of Todoroki's nose because he knew maintaining eye contact would siphon the strength that allowed him to speak. "I-in the.. the obstacle r-race. I'm s-sorry I used my Q-Quirk on you, i-in the tunnel. It-I w-wanted to win so badly, b-but that doesn't excuse it. I k-know it feels awful, s-so.. I-I'm really s-sorry." Izuku's heart thudded painfully against his ribs as the echo of his words faded and died.

The silence had just long enough to slink back in and settle between them, before Todoroki shattered it. "I don't understand why you're apologizing." He didn't wait long enough for Izuku to sputter and cobble together some sort of explanation, and instead continued speaking. "You used your Quirk to give yourself the best chance of winning, just like everyone else. It wasn't pleasant to experience, but Quirks rarely are. Don't be sorry for competing."

Izuku's entire thought process derailed into nothing as Todoroki completely subverted his expectations, leaving him floundering to think of what to say. He made an embarrassing sound that might have been an attempt at words, wilting under Todoroki's gaze. "T-then.. why d-did you bring me here? I-if you're not.. m-mad at me?" It felt awful to assume Todoroki had been upset with him, both because he hated people being upset with him and he hated assuming the worst of others. He just-couldn't wrap his head around why Todoroki of all people would want to speak with him, after he'd already made himself clear.

"I intended to apologize to you, and somehow you managed to beat me in that as well." Izuku's heart simultaneously skipped a beat and tugged itself in multiple directions, disbelief pulling him in one direction as remorse pulled him the other. He barely managed to open his mouth to apologize before he was stonewalled by a flash of something in Todoroki's gaze. "Sorry, that was.. in poor taste. I do feel as though I owe you an explanation, for what I said before the festival began."

Izuku attempted to follow the thread of emotion in Todoroki's words, struggling to place exactly what it was. His choice of words sounded remorseful, but his ability to mask what he was feeling still left Izuku feeling lopsided and out of his element. "Y-you.. i-it's okay, I-I understand... why you said it. Y-you weren't wrong," he mumbled, volume falling in equal measure with his mood.

"I can understand why you'd think that, but I was wrong. I underestimated you, and thought you less capable than you actually are. As a result, I paid the price by coming third in the obstacle race, and second in the cavalry battle. Normally, that'd be the end of it; I underestimated you, and I lost to you. That's all it really needs to be." Izuku went very still when Todoroki made direct eye contact, quivering from the intensity of his gaze. "But from what I've observed of you, that isn't enough. I don't want to presume too much, but I imagine that what I said is something you'll take to heart, despite proving me wrong, and it'll inhibit your growth as a hero, which isn't what I intended."

Izuku gaped around a severe loss of words, his insides a chaotic mess of emotions that only managed to burst to life for a scarce few moments before fizzling out. His expectations had been so impossibly far off the mark, to the point where he had absolutely no idea what he was supposed to do, to say, tothink. He'd misjudged Todoroki so badly that he felt guilty, even if he'd never made his assumptions known. "I-I-"

"Before you assure me that everything is fine and nothing is my fault," Todoroki interrupted, his tone containing something dry that made Izuku's face flare with embarrassment, "I should explain why I challenged you at all. ..You know who my father is-there's no question. Endeavor." Todoroki expelled the name as though it were something unpleasant, perhaps detritus caught between his teeth. "He's a man obsessed with power, and image. As the number two hero, he does whatever he can to maintain his power, and his image. He's spent a long time in the shadow of All Might, unable to best the Symbol of Peace." Todoroki closed his eyes for a moment, drawing in a steady breath. It was the closest to 'agitated' that Izuku had seen of him.

"You.. have you heard of... Quirk marriages?" Izuku's heart turned cold in his chest, dread nestling between his ribs. "They're an archaic practice, popularized when Quirks first manifested. Those with outstanding power would seek out others with similarly strong Quirks, and... procreate, to combine their power in the ideal offspring." Todoroki's tone was tight, laced with an anger he refused to let resonate.

"Like most men with wealth, power, and inferiority complexes, my father turned out to be a morally barren monster obsessed with being the best. After it became clear to him that he couldn't best All Might..." Todoroki's gaze was affixed on a far point beside Izuku's head, hard enough that he was sure the concrete would shatter. "He trapped my mother into marrying him, because of her powerful Quirk. His goal was to create a protege powerful enough to usurp All Might." Todoroki's right hand clenched into a fist at his side, cold radiating from it in wisps of frost.

"That disgusting bastard.. I refuse to be used by him for his infantile grudges. I won't give him what he wants, I won't use his damnable fire," Todoroki spat, and Izuku flinched at the venom infused in his tone. "In every memory I have of her, my mother was always crying, because of him. Every time she saw my left side, all she could see was that monster. It was too much for her to bear, and eventually she reached her breaking point." Todoroki grazed a finger around the edge of his scar, his hand shaking, and horror dawned on Izuku like a tidal wave. "She burned me with boiling water, because looking at me caused her so much pain. The reason I challenged you.. I know how that bastard thinks. If I were to be beaten by someone as timid, as nonthreatening as you-"

Todoroki leveled a dead stare that made Izuku's chest ache, just from glimpsing an echo of his pain. "I have no ill will towards you, but I can't let you beat me. I'm sure you understand-" Every muscle in Todoroki's body went tense when Izuku embraced him with uncharacteristic boldness, heaving with barely contained upset. He craned his head to gaze into heterochromatic eyes, blown wide with shock.

"I-I'm sorry," Izuku choked out, forcing his voice through a thick knot of tears. "Y-you.. you d-don't deserve a-any of that. I k-know you p-probably know that, a-already, but.. s-sometimes it helps to h-hear it. Y-you..." Izuku held fast to the shards of bravery he'd pulled from the muck, desperate to help, in any way he could. "H-have you t-told anyone else a-about any of this? A-a relative, o-or teacher?"

"I-no," Todoroki responded faintly, as if that were the last thing he'd expected Izuku to say, before his voice regained its hardened edge. "There wouldn't be any point in doing so. He might not be the number one hero, but Endeavor is still one of the most powerful and influential men in Japan. He's a heinous monster, which means he has experience in covering up scandals that would damage his image."

Izuku almost backed down, almost uttered a meek apology for pushing too hard, but-the thought of his own pain, locked away like a demon in a casket that he had to hold closed with all his strength, never faltering else it might break free- "I-I know it's hard, t-to... to reach out. W-when you're in pain, when you... h-have a secret, you think 'it's better that nobody knows'. You c-convince yourself you're in c-control, and you're... p-preventing a worst case s-scenario. You build it up s-so big in your head that j-just thinking about it hurts, l-let alone talking about it. B-but... keeping it inside i-is just going to hurt you more," Izuku whispered, forcing himself not to squeeze his eyes shut from the pressure in his chest. "I-I'm not saying you h-have to tell someone, e-even though I think you s-should. B-but... if it's e-ever too much to carry.. y-y-you can talk to m-me. I-I promise I'll always listen."

Todoroki stared at him in silence for a moment that felt like eons, thoughts flitting behind his eyes even as he carefully fixed his expression back into neutrality. He rested his hands on Izuku's upper arms in slow, halting motions, barely applying enough pressure to even be felt. But after a moment he began carefully pulling at Izuku's arms, which was enough of a hint for him to hastily break the embrace, mortification blooming under his skin. "S-sorry, I should h-have asked before-"

"It's a shame that you're so nice," Todoroki interrupted, his tone laden with something tinged in regret. "It makes it difficult to want to fight you." The corner of his lips twitched, barely moving at all before they settled back into casual ambivalence. "Sorry for taking up so much of your time. You should go eat with your friends."

"I-It's okay, r-really, I d-d-don't mind at a-all," Izuku stuttered, filing away the comment about 'being too nice' for later review because he was in no state to analyze it at the moment. "Y-you can.. I mean, y-you're welcome to come e-eat with us. I-if you want."

"...Another time," Todoroki responded after a beat, exiting the alcove he'd pulled Izuku into only a few minutes (that felt like half a lifetime) ago. He turned to walk off, covering only a few feet before he paused, and glanced over his shoulder. "...I'm glad the ointments helped you."

Izuku stared at the back of a head marked with red and white hair, his heart battered and thundering in his chest, and the stain of blood under his face impossible to wipe away.
--
Izuku twitched as he listened to the buzz of an air conditioner, the flow of cold air ruffling his loose curls. It was just cold enough to be soothing, chilling him to the point where his skin didn't feel hot and itchy under his uniform. He tapped idly at the screen of his phone, barely paying attention to the forum posts he scrolled through. It was mostly just something for his hands to do, and the textures on his phone case were enough to capture at least a fraction of his consciousness, a tiny grounding node to weather the storm of his thoughts.

After eating lunch and hearing the results of the tournament match-ups, Izuku had spent several exhausting minutes trying to convince his friends that yes, he was okay and no, he didn't want to compete in the side events and please, I just need to be alone for a little while, and yes again I'm fine really it's no big deal. Honestly, it had almost been more tiring than the first two events combined.

Izuku would be a liar if he said he didn't love his friends, but sometimes... they could be a tiny bit overprotective. Not that he could blame them, or anything; he had a pretty bad track record of being hurt and being obviously unable to take care of himself. If the scar on his face wasn't proof enough, then nearly walking into traffic and his self destructive training regimen would help shore up the slack. Not to mention his arm, which he'd practically snapped in half only a few hours earlier. With all those incidents in mind, he could certainly understand their concern.

But he did need a few moments of solitude, just to wind down from the constant energy he was surrounded with whenever he spent time with them. So Izuku had slunk off to isolate himself in one of the waiting rooms in the hope of catching a little bit of sleep, before his fight. But, as he'd half expected, being alone had only given him less options to distract himself from his flaring anxiety.

He didn't know Hitoshi Shinsou very well, having not spoken much which him after their first meeting, but Izuku thought he seemed fairly nice. He was certainly a little snarky, and seemed mostly disinterested in interacting with the rest of the class, but he'd never been mean to anyone, or instigated anything. Izuku had been considering trying to befriend him for over a week, interested in getting to know the perpetually tired General Studies transfer student.

And then Ojirou had withdrawn himself from the competition altogether, his explanation opening porous holes in the veil that shrouded Shinsou and his Quirk. His anxiety had welled and bubbled, spilling forth in paranoid mutterings and intrusive thoughts that robbed him of his sleep. He'd spent only twenty minutes curled up on a padded fold-out chair, desperately trying to find peace within the dark, turbulent clouds that had enveloped his every thought.

And that was how Ojirou had found him, muttered words filling the room like a swarm of insects. His warning burned in the back of Izuku's skull, anxiety solidified into twisted fingers, digging into the nodules of his vertebrae and sending dark sparks through his nervous system. A brainwashing Quirk-Shinsou had the power to control others, to force them into mindless obedience, to bend them absolutely to his will with only a question. Thoughts came to Izuku unbidden, of sprouting teeth and sickly hot blood and the hiss of static. Agony lanced through him at the thought of his own commands, voice a haunting shriek that stripped apart layers of skull and dug into the darkness of others, clawed words dragging forth strips and strands of weakness.

But all he had to do was not say anything. If Shinsou couldn't use his Quirk, Izuku had a chance of winning. Shinsou was definitely taller and heavier than him, which meant Izuku could use his displacement techniques, and either incapacitate him or throw him out of the ring. And if worse came to worse, he could use a burst of Living Nightmare to his advantage. He could win. All Izuku needed to do was be calm, collected, and controlled.

Well, Izuku reflected with a bleak, empty smile as his phone timer told him he had ten minutes before the match began, at least he'd made it to the third event at all.
--
Static buzzed behind Izuku's ears as he emerged from the cold tunnel into the main arena, the roar of the crowd and the over-the-top commentary from Present Mic barely registering at all. He struggled to drag his legs behind him, his blood turned to molten lead that yearned to root him in place. He was unable to shake the crawling sensation of eyes on him, intimately aware that he was being stared at, being judged, his every move scrutinized by thousands, tens of thousands, hundreds of thousands of watchful eyes.

Izuku's first steps into the arena felt like a march to his own execution, every beat of his heart thundering like the report of cannon fire. Every blink was a crashing guillotine, dulled by meat and bone and the hiss of static, but still so real he could feel it vibrating in his teeth. The arena was larger than he'd thought it'd be, an intimidating stretch of concrete that stared up at him like a tombstone. He took sharp, soft breaths, barely capable of keeping his face from crumpling from the weight of stress on his shoulders.

He glanced up, almost in a daze, when Present Mic began reciting the rules of the battle. He blinked as if in slow motion at the lean form of Shinsou, his wild purple hair clashing with the primarily blue gym uniform, and his deeply set eyes marked with bags of exhaustion. Izuku was struck with a pang of concern, and had to snuff out the urge to ask if he was alright. Shinsou's expression remained neutral as they closed the distance towards one another, footsteps echoing in the hollow of Izuku's head.

They stopped with roughly fifteen feet between them, too close for Izuku to feel comfortable using his Quirk right away. He could feel it writhing under his skin, winding through the bones of his arm with such force that he half expected to see tendrils bulging down his forearm. He flexed his fingers in a futile effort to expel the static buzzing in them, blinking hard in an attempt to focus on Shinsou's face. "G-good l-l-luck," he managed in a barely functional whisper, half aware of Present Mic announcing the fight had begun.

"Hey, Midoriya. You holding up okay?"

Izuku blinked, momentarily stunned as Shinsou's low, calm voice cut through the haze that surrounded him. His classmate's eyes were bright despite the clear exhaustion in them, his normally smirking lips curled into a soft, friendly smile. His tone was so disarming, soft concern twining around his words, a genuine worry for Izuku's well being. He responded before he could even think about doing so, something soft and light fluttering in his chest just from knowing Shinsou cared enough to ask.

"Y-yeah, I'm a-alrigh-"

Izuku Midoriya stared straight ahead, his words strangled into silence as his tongue ceased to move, his mouth ceased to open, his muscles ceased to function. He could feel it, feel the strings that knotted in his bones and pulled him taut and lifeless. His static had become a distant buzz, pushed aside by the cashmere that had stuffed his skull to bursting. Faintly, he attempted to do-something, anything. It was difficult to think, his normally overclocked thoughts slowed to a crawl, like they'd been drowned in molasses.

All he could see was Shinsou's face, his eyes glinting with pride and his lips twisted into a satisfied smirk. "You know, seeing that sad sack look frozen on your face makes me feel kinda bad. Not bad enough to not win, of course, but still pretty bad." Every syllable resonated through his head, clear as struck gongs and powerful as church bells. "Poor Midoriya. You must feel awful, right? Ignoring your friend's warning because you wanted to play nice. What a shame. But, since I know you're such a nice guy, you won't mind doing a little favor for me, right? All I need you to do is turn around, and walk out of the ring."

Izuku was moving before the words even pierced the fuzz muddling his thoughts. The strings pulled tight, jerking him around like an unruly puppet. His limbs moved under another's power (a mouth filled with teeth blood in his throat drinking fear like wine) but his consciousness hadn't been wrenched out of place. It was still intact enough for dull horror to rumble in his guts, organs knotting like they'd tear apart if they were pulled any tighter.

He could see the line that marked the edge of the arena, the line that would disqualify him if he crossed it. It loomed closer and closer, shuffling footsteps swallowing concrete and dragging him against his will towards his own defeat. Stupid, he was stupid, stupid and worthless and naive and too weak, too weak to fight back when his body turned against him, when his muscles twitched and contracted without his command, sentencing him to a slow, humiliating defeat.

Izuku would have gasped if his throat still belonged to him when Living Nightmare screamed in his chest, breaking free of the dormant state forced upon it only a few steps from the edge of the ring. Wisps of black fumes wandered into his vision, and he could barely feel the impression of heat in his arms, which were surely bleeding fumes like exhaust pipes. Panic sawed at the cotton stuffing his head, cutting through fibers as strings were cut by wires, barbed and piercing and twisting in his bones, the fear in his chest bloating like a blood blister, hot and aching and moments from eruption but Izuku couldn't let it, couldn't let it, couldn't hurt Shinsou couldn't hurt him couldn't hurt-

Izuku choked on fumes when his body was jerked away from the edge, clawing with every inch of his will to hold onto consciousness as the cashmere in his brain was burned away, replaced by the sickening dark of Living Nightmare. His head snapped up hard enough that it would surely have hurt if he were in full control, static hissing in his ears and in his eyes as he stared at Hitoshi Shinsou, the world screeching to a slow, insidious crawl around him. Shinsou's eyes were blown wide with shock and disbelief and the first few sinster worms of fear. Izuku was vaguely aware of the screen in the corner of his vision flickering with static interference, masking the teeth that erupted from his gums and the cosmic hunger that bled into his pupils.

"Leave."

Shinsou's teeth snapped together hard enough that Izuku could hear it through the static shriek between his ears, gasping for air and stumbling to keep his balance as copper oozed onto his tongue. He sucked in a ragged breath, feeling weak and woozy from the vestiges of Living Nightmare that he'd cut off prematurely. He blinked hard to try and regain his vision, his legs shaking uncontrollably beneath him.

When Izuku had finally refocused, he realized with numb confusion that he was alone in the arena. He stared blankly, his heart echoing in his ears, at the sight of Hitoshi Shinsou crumpled on the hard concrete located just outside the fighting ring. He gaped wordlessly, struggling to understand, what had happened what did he do was Shinsou hurt-

["Well, I don't know about you folks watching at home, but I have NO IDEA what THAT fight was about! But either way, it looks like our winner is Izuku Midoriya!"]

The distant cheers of the crowd were indistinct in Izuku's ears, like the sound of waves crashing against the shore. He was ignorant of the blood dribbling down his lip and trickling into his throat. All he could see was Shinsou, curled up in a shaking heap, staring back at him with purple eyes dilated in confusion and terror. What was winning really worth, Izuku wondered numbly as he shakily stepped out of the arena, and watched Midnight help Shinsou to his feet. What was winning really worth, Izuku wondered numbly as he left, deaf to the cheers of the crowd and desperate to shroud himself with cold solitude. What was winning really worth, Izuku wondered numbly, when it only left him feeling empty inside?

Chapter 30

Chapter Text

Izuku trawled the empty stadium halls, ghosting through them like a mournful specter. The roof of his mouth stung where knife blade teeth had sliced into it, and his arms burned from the phantom heat of Living Nightmare wresting back control of his body. The alien scars under his shirt burned as well, a simmer on the cusp of pain that manifested in a horrible, prickling itch. His stomach wasn't unsettled enough that he'd have to forfeit his lunch again, but the stony knots forming in it made him feel sick regardless.

Pain was the only thing that kept Izuku in one piece; it was a stringy, visceral webbing between his shattered chunks, slick and ugly but sufficient to keep him from simply falling apart. It was for that reason that he was hesitant to see Recovery Girl (whom had moved to a temporary indoor office, once it was clear the outdoor medical tent wasn't needed anymore), though his perpetual guilt at having to bother her with self inflicted injuries was also a deciding factor. But he did know that he couldn't walk around with open wounds, especially not in his mouth. Bacterial infections were pretty much a given, if he waited too long.

The break between fights gave Izuku ample time to both have his wounds closed and helplessly observe as his consciousness unraveled. The aftermath of his match with Shinsou made him feel sick beyond biological feedback; it was an unwellness that permeated the very air he breathed, a noxious fog of fatalistic gloom that made him a specter wearing skin. Everything felt so dull and draining, colors muted and sounds muffled until only his self hatred rang clear. He itched with need for the comforting tug of his hair clips, and the soft warmth of his scarf. Even his nails were bare and dull, due to his own forgetfulness; he'd barely had time to remove the chipped polish earlier that morning, let alone paint each nail a completely different color.

He burned with the desire to make things right, to say something-anything that would help, that would dissolve the sight of Shinsou's terror that greeted him whenever he dared to blink. Parasitic roots squelched through his thoughts, tainting them with recollections of Uraraka, pale and shaking and haunted, of his mother, quiet and withdrawn and struggling to smile for him, for his sake. He couldn't stop seeing Kacchan's eyes, wide and twitching and so dim, his inner fire snuffed like a candle by the swelling ocean tide.

Ms. Atsuko had told him that relapses weren't unexpected, when dealing with mental illnesses. There was no such thing as a perfect recovery, and he shouldn't give up hope when he lost ground. She had, at one point, suggested he start taking medication to help regulate his mood and dull the edge of his anxiety. He'd said he wanted to think about it, unsure if medication would affect his Quirk or not, and then had been too anxious to bring it up with his mother after the session.

He wasn't sure if he'd ever regretted anything more than that decision. Anything, anything had to be better than his violent mood swings and paper thin stability and barely maintainable coherence. His self sabotage was so finely ingrained in everything he did and everything he thought that it had become nigh undetectable, something he only picked up on once he was left clutching ashes in the wake of self made devastation.

He'd thought he was getting better, slowly letting his vulnerabilities come out with those he could trust, trying to listen to the advice he received instead of letting it wash over him, treating his Quirk as the power that belonged to him instead of the other way around-but maybe he'd been wrong. He still hurt so acutely, needle sharp punctures as fresh as the day he'd stumbled out of middle school half convinced he'd fail the entrance exam and never have a chance of achieving his dreams.

But... he'd proven himself wrong, hadn't he? Izuku had passed the entrance exams, he hadn't been expelled, he'd fought off villains and he'd come first in the Obstacle Race and won the Cavalry Battle-so why couldn't he be proud? Why couldn't he shake the lingering dread that everything would fall apart like poorly stacked cards, that every single accomplishment was built off the backs of his friends and his Quirk?

It was so frustrating to not even understand what to do about his own feelings, to not know why he couldn't just try his best without second guessing himself, why he couldn't love his friends without being afraid they'd grow sick of his awful presence. Labels like 'depression' and 'anxiety' and 'self esteem issues' could only tell him so much. It made him angry, a bitter loathing that pooled in still ponds with abyssal depths, just waiting to pour from him like molten tar. But his anger was ugly, and all it did was make everything worse, made him hurtful and dangerous. He hadn't forgotten the beach, months slipping through his fingers like grains of sand as his frustration built to an explosive outburst of annihilation. Izuku didn't want to be angry. All he wanted was.. was-

"Midoriya?"

Izuku froze up as his oily bubble of self-loathing popped, struck by the realization that he'd been muttering under his breath outside the nurse's office for a solid three minutes. He blinked up into a pair of perpetually tired purple eyes, which for once looked alert and attentive.

"S-Shinsou!" Izuku's voice left him in a yelp, and he reflexively flinched back half a step. "I-I- w-what are you d-doing here? N-not that um, i-it's any of my business or a-anything, I just didn't expect to find you here and I'm really sorry for getting in your way I can just leave-"

"You talk too much," Shinsou's bone dry mutter cut through Izuku's frantic babbling, forcing him into silence with a squeak of embarrassment. "I get why you'd be surprised. Your Quirk packs a hell of a punch, but it didn't leave a scratch on me. Recovery Girl still wanted to check up on me, though."

"Y-y-you weren't h-hurt? You're okay?" Relief and remorse twined together in Izuku's voice, his gaze flickering over Shinsou as if to confirm that he wasn't on the brink of death. He certainly looked tired, but he always looked like that (maybe he could recommend some sleep remedies?). Although, there was something-clearer, in Shinsou's gaze; he possessed a clarified intensity that Izuku hadn't seen before.

"Well, I doubt Recovery Girl's Quirk works on damaged pride, so. Okay as I can be." Shinsou shrugged one shoulder, a bitter smirk pulling at his lips. It was cutting in a way Izuku hadn't expected, Shinsou's blades inverted from the (dull) barbs he usually delivered. "By the way," Shinsou spoke again, his voice startling Izuku out of his analysis, "if you came here to apologize for beating me, then don't bother. I'm not interested in false platitudes."

Izuku rapidly shook his head, waving his hands back and forth to dispel the assumption. "N-no that's not-I... I'm sorry f-for using my Quirk on you, l-like that. I panicked, a-and I know it f-feels awful so-"

"Maybe," Shinsou interrupted loudly enough for Izuku to flinch, his mouth snapping shut, "that Bakugou asshole was right. Maybe you do think this is all a big joke." He skewered Izuku with a harsh look (it was honestly impressive how scary he managed to be, when he also looked so desperately in need of a nap) and lowered his voice to a thick crawl. "Do you think you're the only person that doesn't love their Quirk? The only one that's hesitant to use it on others, because of how it makes people feel, how it reflects back on you? That's pretty self centered, for such a nice guy."

Shinsou brushed past him while he was still frozen in shock, their shoulders bumping together lightly. "It might not really be my place, but I'll give you some advice anyway. First of all, stop apologizing for using your Quirk. It's insulting. Second, get some perspective. You've got a powerful Quirk, so use it to your advantage. Stop worrying about what other people think; it's not like you can change it, after all."

Izuku twisted around awkwardly to meet Shinsou's gaze behind him, his classmate's mouth twisted into a dryly amused smirk. "So why don't you do me a favor, and think on that? Shouldn't be a problem for a nice guy like you, right?" Shinsou turned off down a connecting hallway before Izuku could fumble for a response, stunned to the point of immobilization as his assumptions were once again disproved.

"...Yeah," Izuku whispered to the empty hallway, his heart pounding in his chest as constricting wires loosened their hold. "I-I'll do my best."
--
"Hey, Midoriya! C'mon down bro, we saved you a seat!" Izuku glanced up at the sound of Kirishima's voice, a slightly (exceedingly) nervous smile tugging at his lips. His classmates were sat among one another in a seating area that'd been specifically designated for class 1-A, set several levels higher than the normal stands. Iida, Uraraka, Kirishima, and Tokoyami had secured seats in the front row, and had left a completely conspicuous open seat between Uraraka and Kirishima that was apparently meant for him.

"H-hey, guys!" Izuku called back, his voice slightly pitchy with nerves despite the calming effect his friends had on him. He lifted a slightly awkward hand in greeting, glancing over the rest of his classmates. Ashido and Tsuyu were engaged in conversation with Jirou and Kaminari, who seemed to be trying to defend himself from being the butt of a joke. Satou, Shouji, and Kouda were sat far enough away that Izuku couldn't hear any noise from them, but Aoyama seemed more than capable of keeping up the entire conversation by himself. Hagakure was sat next to Yaoyorozu, and seemed to be emphatic about whatever she was talking about, if the way her sleeves moved was any indication. Most surprising was the sight of Kacchan sat with Shinsou at the fringes of the group, with not a single sign of yelling or explosions between them.

Most everyone glanced at him for at least a moment before being reabsorbed in whatever had previously garnered their attention, though Ojiro did flash him a (proud?) smile. Izuku shyly wiggled his fingers in acknowledgement before he made his way down the concrete steps.

He shared a slight nod with Tokoyami before carefully slipping past his friend, only to yelp in shock when Kirishima bounced up from his seat to wrap Izuku in a one armed hug, his other hand mussing up Izuku's already wild curls. "Glad to see you feelin' better, man! You ready to beat some ass in the next round?"

Iida made a series of (completely incomprehensible) hand gestures from his spot beside a clearly amused Uraraka, his face set with mild disapproval. "Kirishima you really should give Midoriya time to sit down and recover before engaging in your," Iida cleared his throat, "'manly' roughhousing. He's going to need to be in peak shape for his next match, after all!"

Kirishima laughed, a small note of sheepishness slipping into his voice. "Yeah, you probably have a point there." He released Izuku with an apologetic smile, which combined with the clear excitement in his eyes made Izuku flush uncontrollably. "Sorry about that, I'm just so freakin' pumped for this, you have no idea!"

"Quite the fallacious statement," Tokoyami mused with mild exasperation, crossing one leg over the other, "considering how extremely transparent you are about your excitement."

Izuku slipped out of Kirishima's embrace while the other boy was busy giving an unimpressed Tokoyami puppy dog eyes, settling into his seat with a sigh. That relief quickly became bewildered mortification when Uraraka practically pulled him halfway into her lap, her fingers diving into his mussed curls.

"Poor Izuku, did mean old Kirishima mess up your hair?" She cooed at him, laughter in her eyes as she carefully rearranged his hair. Izuku flushed and stuttered out something incomprehensible, glancing at Iida in search of help. Iida looked just as helpless as he did, locked between the urge to lecture and self preservation in the face of a determined Uraraka.

"Mean old-" Kirishima half sputtered, before he adopted a look of faux hurt and placed a hand over his heart. "Jeez, I thought this was the Sport's Festival, not the 'Pick on Kirishima' festival! Totally unmanly, gangin' up on me like that!"

Izuku glanced away from the rapidly compounding teasing that Kirishima was being inundated with when Iida cleared his throat, the taller boy looking slightly uncomfortable. "Ah, Midoriya. I had meant to catch you earlier, but you were busy with Recovery Girl, so I suppose this is the best opportunity to speak with you about something. It's.. about the Cavalry Battle. I hope you understand that it was nothing personal, when I partnered up with Todoroki and his team. I merely thought... it would be a good chance to grow in a new direction, you see. I meant no offense-"

"N-no, I, it's fine, Iida. Really," Izuku interrupted earnestly, half aware of Uraraka pointedly not listening in and instead poking fun at an increasingly 'heartbroken' Kirishima. "I-I understand. It's a competition, after all. We-it doesn't m-mean we're not friends anymore, or anything. I-it's alright."

Iida blinked twice, looking perplexed before he carefully adjusted both his glasses and his expression. "Yes, well-I'm glad you understand. It's relieving, to know there's no hard feelings between us. And I hope that will continue to be the case, should we end up fighting in the tournament."

Izuku barely stopped himself from balking at the thought of fighting Iida, and instead plastered a twitching smile on his face. "Y-yeah, of course! N-no matter what happens, y-you'll still be my friend!" He waited a moment to be sure Iida wouldn't break into a teary, heartfelt speech before speaking again. "S-speaking of the fights, Sero and T-Todoroki are up next, right?"

"Sure are," Kirishima answered easily, dropping back into his seat at Izuku's side. He rested a lax arm around both Izuku and Uraraka's shoulders, apparently having endured her good natured heckling without incident. "I'm pumped to see them both in action, and I'm hopin' Sero can get a few good swings in without getting frozen."

"I-it's honestly a bit of a one sided fight," Izuku murmured, fixing his eyes on the empty battlefield. "Sero has a lot of mobility, but it's mostly tied up in vertical movements which won't help much on a flat surface, and his tape isn't very offensively inclined though I imagine it'd be extremely useful for subduing and disabling any opponent he can get the drop on but Todoroki has a lot of overwhelming power on his side and even though Sero probably out ranges him the confined size of the ring puts them on about even ground and Todoroki could potentially freeze Sero's tape making it brittle and easy to break so that he can't use it to-"

"Holy fuck, will you SHUT UP already?! We're here to watch, not listen to a damn play-by-play!" Bakugou barked from a few rows up. His voice was geared up into a shout, but the normal heat of his anger was practically nonexistent, beyond mild annoyance. Shinsou snickered from beside him and muttered something that Izuku couldn't hear over his own pounding pulse, but judging by the jagged smirk that bloomed on Kacchan's lips, it must have been amusing.

"S-sorry Kacchan!" He yelped, fighting back the urge to flinch. He didn't feel anything close to the blind terror he used to, when Kacchan spoke in his direction, but the instinct to duck away and silence himself hadn't been scrubbed out just yet. He noticed the absense of Uraraka's hands in his hair a moment later, and glanced over to find her glaring daggers at an oblivious Kacchan.

Internally panicking, Izuku reached out to take Uraraka's hands in his own so that she couldn't use them to float Bakugou into the sun. "U-Uraraka, w-wait, it's fine, really!" He gently squeezed her fingers when she turned soulful brown eyes his way, and attempted to inject some reassurance into his smile. Apparently he'd done well enough, because her harsh gaze softened slightly. "D-don't worry about it. That's j-just how Kacchan is. I know he's n-not really angry."

Uraraka looked him over with a critical eye for a long moment, before she apparently found what she was looking for. She puffed her cheeks out in a displeased pout, and laced her fingers with his own (which reminded him that they were holding hands and he was pretty sure he might faint). "I just don't think you should let him talk to you that way, Izuku."

"It's true that Bakugou certainly could stand to refine his manners," Iida began in his 'I'm going to remind you why Following The Rules matters' tone of voice, only for Kirishima to practically throw himself over both Izuku and Uraraka to physically insert himself into the conversation.

"-Which is why you'll have to beat some manners into him during your fight, ain't that right Uraraka?" He flashed his teeth in a cheeky smile, which widened into a blinding grin when Uraraka's eyes burned with competitive spirit. "I'm sure a little trip into the stratosphere never hurt anyone, right?" He leaned back into his seat, half his body pressed flush up against Izuku's side, a position that forced heat under his cheeks.

"Kirishima please don't goad her into breaking the rules of the bout, it would be unsportsmanlike to.." Iida cleared his throat, and made a few awkward hand gestures as he failed to find less ridiculous words, "'send Bakugou into the stratosphere'. And you, Uraraka! I understand that Bakugou may not have the most palatable personality, but you can't just send everyone you don't like into space, it's completely unethical not to mention illegal! Such an action would not only put a black mark on your record and likely disallow you from ever becoming a pro hero, but it would also-"

"The battle dawns," Tokoyami interrupted shamelessly, his voice catching the attention of the rest of the class before Present Mic began his announcements at an incredibly unnecessary volume. Izuku's fingers twitched with the urge to grab a writing utensil so he could record the events of the match as they unfolded, but all his writing materials were in his backpack, and Uraraka didn't seem particularly inclined to release his hands anytime soon.

He watched closely as Sero and Todoroki stepped out into the arena, gaze flickering between the big screens and the actual bodies on ground level. He read the outward confidence in Sero's smirk, which mostly hid the nerves lurking just underneath it. He certainly looked determined though, and despite not having talked with him much Izuku felt the same surge of pride he always did when he saw his classmates.

Todoroki, on the other hand... If his expression had been cold when he'd confronted Izuku before the Festival, the look on his face as he stepped up into the ring was absolutely frostbitten. His eyes were dark and there was a thick line of tension in his jaw, but he was barely even looking at Sero as the countdown began. His gaze was locked on empty space, as if he were glaring at something that didn't exist in front of him.

Izuku buzzed with nerves as the match began, covering his mouth with his hands (and by extension, Uraraka's) when Sero launched the first attack, binding Todoroki's arms and legs in a flurry of adhesive tape that left him completely immobilized. His heart thudded in his throat as Sero hurtled Todoroki towards the edge of the arena, concrete skidding under his shoes as he remained absolutely still in his binds.

Maybe Izuku was the first one to notice it, but he couldn't be sure. All he could see was Todoroki lock his right foot against the concrete, the first few slivers of ice fanning out from the tip of his shoe-and then the entire arena was blasted with a wave of bone chilling frost, so sudden and overwhelming that Izuku had ice crystals forming on his eyelashes in the time it took him to stare, unblinking, at the titanic iceberg jutting clear out of the stadium.

Dead silence was the immediate response, shock and awe settling in an uneasy film over every observer in the crowd. Izuku's gaze flickered downwards, where he could see Sero, completely locked in the first few feet of the glacial monument. "Hanta Sero, are you unable to move?" Midnight called, looking half frozen herself.

Izuku watched in a daze as Todoroki was declared the winner, and the crowd showered Sero with sympathy. He watched red and white hair bead with condensation as Todoroki began slowly melting Sero out of the glacier, steam rising up in thick, billowing clouds around him. And he could see the vacancy left behind by Todoroki's anger and tension, his shoulders slumped like his strings had been cut as something heavy and sorrowful crept over him. Izuku's chest ached at the sight, a throb of empathy that made him want to do-something, anything he could to take that hurt away.

And then he realized that he'd just witnessed firsthand what he'd be facing in the next round, a jaw dropping display of overwhelming force and technique. "Oh," Izuku whispered faintly, as he was revisited by the thought that he really should have dropped out already.

Chapter 31: Singularity

Chapter Text

The one positive that Izuku could take away from Todoroki besieging the stadium with an iceberg was that, in the time it took to clear the field of all the ice, he at least had ample downtime to properly review his panic and apply some rational thought to the incredibly dreadful and stress inducing situation he'd been faced with.

Logically, he had no reason to actually be afraid of Todoroki. Despite the fact that his classmate was perfectly capable of skewering him with a gigantic spear of ice (and had made that abundantly clear), it wasn't a real fight. There were no hard feelings between them (he hoped) and if anything did end up going awry there were professionals equipped to intervene and de-escalate the situation. They'd both just try their best to win, and win or lose, things would turn out okay for both of them. Nothing to worry about.

Of course, knowing that there was nothing to worry about was very different from actually stopping himself from worrying, and thus Izuku remained half petrified by anxiety over his upcoming match. Intrusive thoughts suffocated him like a swarm of moths, their beating wings infused with static. So much could go wrong, there were so many ways he could mess things up, so many ways he could lose-

But more than that, more than the fear of bitter defeat and humiliation and not being strong enough was an older fear, its teeth sharpened on his well worn bones. If he wasn't completely in control, if he didn't plan everything out to the letter, if he miscalculated, if something happened outside of his control... Todoroki could be hurt. Todoroki could die. The stitched together tapestry of human remains made his stomach roil, a thousand scenarios where he moved his hand the wrong way, or Todoroki got too close, and-pop.

Izuku had no doubt, no doubt that a direct hit would be instantly fatal. His power ripped through steel and earth and concrete like wet clay, and a fragile human body would not survive. He could practically see Todoroki sheared in half like he'd been struck with a missile, the wet slosh of organs and the hot spray of blood and the dead, lifeless eyes like glass; Izuku flinched every time the thought wormed its way behind his eyelids.

And it became too much. He could feel the air deaden around him, could taste the sour rot in the back of his throat. His hands stung from the heat crackling in his bones, and the skin of his torso felt raw and itchy. He excused himself from the viewing box with half muttered words, brushing past his friends' concern with the bare minimum of cognitive functioning. There was nothing they could do to calm the malignant pressure of Living Nightmare, straining and deforming his delicate flesh container. He needed to be alone, where nobody could be hurt.

Izuku dove back into the cold concrete depths of the stadium, chilled to the point of discomfort by the air conditioning and lit with impersonal white bulbs that flickered as he shambled by. He could feel the space around him dimming, weighed down by groaning shadows that pulled and stretched with iron fingers. His silhouette snapped into stark relief, a fluid, organic mass that shifted and ebbed and clung to him like shrink wrap. Static roared and pulsed in his ears, a blizzard of fractured pixels screaming in agony.

He hunted single-mindedly for the most secluded corner he could find, practically feeling his way through the static haze that had descended on him. Eventually his trembling legs could take him no farther, and Izuku collapsed, boneless, against a hard wall. He shuffled to press himself against it, pulling his legs up to his chest and waiting, numbly, for darkness to swallow him whole.
--
"...ng M....i.a?"

Izuku twitched as an outward force pressed against the film of unconsciousness that had settled around him. The locust buzz of devouring fear he'd been drowned in had receded like a fickle tide, and he was left shivering and empty. Goosebumps had risen up on his exposed forearms, likely from the air conditioning vent he'd collapsed underneath. It really wasn't hot enough outdoors to warrant that level of indoor cooling, Izuku mused distractedly, before he was again pressed by the outside voice.

"Young Midoriya? Are you alright?" It was a voice he recognized-All Might. He sounded tired, but that was a backdrop to the concern leaking between his words. Izuku vaguely wondered why he wasn't watching the matches, before he realized he was unsure if the iceberg had been cleared out or not. How long had he been...?

"Y..yeah. I-I'm o-okay," he muttered, blinking heavy lids and squinting past the glare of fluorescent lighting. All Might looked haggard and fragile in his ill fitting suit, his thick eyebrows knitted in concern. "W-What are you doing here? S-sir."

"I was on my way to grab something from the concession stands. Young Iida is duking it out with that young lady from the support course, and... things got a little weird, so I ducked out." All Might's shadowed gaze narrowed on Izuku's face, sending a nervous shiver through him. "More importantly, what are you doing here? Is everything alright?"

"Y-yeah, uhm, f-fine, I-sorry for-I s-should really b-be getting back, h-huh, s-sorry for b-bothering you-" Izuku's word vomit was frantic and barely thought out, a desperate tactic to buy him both time and distance. His arms wobbled as he began pushing himself up, only to yelp in shock when All Might sighed and lowered himself to sit a few feet away, all creaking joints and weathered bones. "S-sir-"

"You remember the promise I made, don't you? As your teacher, it's my duty to provide you an environment in which you can grow and prosper." All Might's voice was low and neutral, with no real inflection for Izuku to read other than the faintest traces of melancholy. "I intend to keep it, to help you, and all of my students grow into fine young heroes. I won't try to force you to open up-I haven't forgotten how stubborn teenagers can be. But I would appreciate if you let me know what's bothering you, so I can help."

"I..." Izuku trailed off as the moment in which he would normally scramble for a poorly thought-out excuse and brush off his suffering remained absent, replaced only by exhaustion, and trust in his teacher. All Might hadn't hated him, when he saw the ugliest part of Izuku-he'd even offered his sacred power, the power to change the world, because he believed Izuku was fit to wield it. And when he'd been refused, he was understanding. There were a lot of reasons All Might was the greatest hero in the world, Izuku thought, and it was a shame that most would never know of the most important ones.

"I-" Izuku had to-he had to take the plunge, and place his trust in his role model, the man he'd looked up to before he could even say the word 'hero'. Maybe All Might's heroic light couldn't burn away the darkness, but he could still offer a torch for Izuku to find his way. "I w-was overwhelmed," he whispered, voice thin as paper and fragile as glass. "I was stressing out about fighting T-Todoroki, and it was just-it g-got really bad, so I left to b-be alone. I guess, m-maybe I passed out, o-or something. I'm not sure. I just-

"I c-can't bear the thought of h-hurting him," Izuku croaked, like the words were something deformed and painful to emit. "I- Living Nightmare, i-it's so dangerous, i-if I made one mistake, i-if he did something I wasn't e-expecting, I-I w-wouldn't be able to live with myself."

All Might was silent for a few beats, where Izuku was certain he was mulling over what to say. "..You're a compassionate young man, Midoriya. It's wonderful to see someone care so much about the well-being of those around them. But your fear of hurting others might hold you back." All Might shifted, a motion that drew Izuku's gaze towards him. His deeply set eyes glinted with a steely neon blue, but his perpetual frown looked softened at the seams. "You're not wrong in saying that your Quirk is very dangerous-it could very easily hurt someone. But there are many, many Quirks that the same could be said about. That's why we all have to practice such fine control over our powers, to be able to use them without causing unnecessary harm.

"But I do understand where you're coming from. When I was first gifted my power, One For All... there were times when I was frightened of it." All Might held out a bony hand, and for a moment Izuku could almost see light leaking from his open palm. "I wasn't always in full control, even when I learned to use it at full strength. There have been times where that's caused irreparable harm. One of the first villains I ever fought, a man calling himself the Pyrrhic Scourge, was an incredible danger to the public. He was unpredictable, willing to burn the whole world down to get whatever it was he wanted... I stopped him, but not without a cost."

All Might's voice lowered, a long note of remorse in his flattened tone. "Our battle damaged him permanently, and he spent the rest of his life paralyzed from the waist down. He passed away a few years later. And it was all because I was scared, unsure of my power. I would hate to see you make the same mistakes I did. These powers we wield, the power of Quirks-it should be respected, but never feared. Heroes must be sure of their actions, and intimately understand the thresholds of their strength."

Izuku started when All Might began to stand, looking a little shaky. He scrambled to his teacher's side, gently helping him to his feet. "S-sir..." His voice stalled a little, thoughts swirling in great twisting loops around his head. Maybe if All Might wasn't his teacher, Izuku would have reacted with disbelief. Thinking of the world's greatest hero as anything other than completely confident and in control would have been unbelievable. But knowing the man behind that hero made things a little easier to swallow.

"Try not to stress out about your match too much, okay? I think you and young Todoroki have a lot to learn from one another, and it'll be good for both of you." All Might delivered a reassuring clap to Izuku's shoulder, one that would have certainly knocked him over if his teacher had been in his hero form. "And remember: you'll never get the chance to learn how to control your power, if you spend all your time being afraid of it."

Izuku conjured up a trembling smile, All Might's words echoing inside his head. "I-t-thank you, sir. I-I'll do my best." He managed a deep, uninhibited breath, Living Nightmare lying dormant in his chest. He didn't exactly feel great, but he was far and away in a better place than he'd been before.

"Well, I am your teacher, after all. I had to impart some wisdom at some point, didn't I?" A laugh squeaked out of Izuku's throat, and All Might pulled a lax grin in his direction. "I think young Kirishima is up next, if you wanted to go catch the next match. I'm sure your friend would appreciate you cheering him on."

K-Kirishima is-" Izuku's eyes widened, a flush crawling up onto his face. "I-yeah, y-you're right, t-thank you f-for the advice s-sir!" Izuku waved frantically before he turned to skid down the hall, linoleum squeaking under his shoes. His fear of his upcoming match had been quelled from a raging inferno to smoking embers, and his haste to cheer Kirishima on pushed the charred remains from his mind completely.
--
Izuku was panting for breath by the time he made it back to class 1-A's viewing stands, the echoes of his hurried footsteps dying in his ears as the cheers of the crowd swelled around him. He glanced quickly over the seats, noticing that a number of his classmates were missing from their seats, including Iida, Uraraka and (of course) Kirishima.

He nearly tripped on his way down the steps to the front row, glancing quickly between Tokoyami's stoic, avian visage and the arena down below. His heart thundered at the sight of Kirishima stepping into the ring, his teeth bared in an electrifying grin. Standing opposite of him was a student from class 1-B (Tetsutetsu, the numerous screens informed him), his hair a stark silver and his teeth ground together with determination. Present Mic was still talking them up (with apparently recycled intros?) when Izuku collapsed into the seat next to Tokoyami.

"S-sorry for m-missing your match Tokoyami," Izuku wheezed, torn between slumping back in his chair and leaning as far over the concrete railing as possible. Eventually he settled with sitting as far at the edge of his seat as possible, eyes locked on the countdown.

"You seemed unwell earlier, Midoriya. I'm hardly upset you missed my first fight-rather, I'm glad to see you in better spirits." Izuku glanced over to find Tokoyami leveling half of a heavy stare his way, his eyes dark but not unkind.

"A-ah, yeah, I-I'm feeling much better now-" Izuku's smile became a rictus grimace when the buzzer to indicate the start of the match went off much too loudly, before he realized that it wasn't just a painfully loud noise. He lurched back over to watch the match, his heart thumping loudly in his ears. He watched unblinking as Kirishima and Tetsutetsu both delivered a simultaneous opening blow, sparks flying between their fists.

His pulse only quickened as the match drew out into a brutal slug fest, neither Kirishima nor Tetsutetsu giving up an inch of ground as they delivered rock solid blows and steel knuckled punches. Kirishima was amazing-Izuku couldn't believe how strong he was, able to take punches like sledgehammer blows on the chin and keep fighting without missing a step. But his approach was so forward and direct, a frontal assault meant to overwhelm and overpower. He wasn't using the finesse that Izuku knew he had, just from the few times they'd practiced grappling together.

His heart rose into his throat as the match wore on and both fighters began to falter, Kirishima's Hardened skin bearing the marks of several damaging blows. Present Mic's lackadaisical commentary made Izuku's eyes itch and his blood boil, teeth gritting together. He knew Kirishima could win, he knew Kirishima was better than some-mirror match gimmick.

Izuku hauled himself out of his seat and leaned as far over the barrier as he could, cupping his hands around his mouth to carry his voice as far as it could go. "KIRISHIMA! KIRISHIMA!" He yelled loud enough that his voice broke, loud enough that he could see Kirishima's head turn just slightly, his fiery hair matted and dripping with sweat. "YOU CAN BEAT HIM, I KNOW YOU CAN! USE HIS WEIGHT AGAINST HIM! HIS QUIRK MAKES HIM HEAVIER THAN YOU! COME ON KIRISHIMA, YOU CAN DO IT!"

Tears beaded in the corners of Izuku's eyes from the sheer force of his hollering, his fingers clenching desperately at the railing. His heart just about stopped when Kirshima's head snapped back from the force of Tetsutetsu's right hook, his feet digging through concrete as he refused to go down. The camera caught a side profile of him that took Izuku's breath away, razor edged teeth bared in a gleaming grin and liquid blood orange blazing with determination.

He charged at Tetsutetsu with a wide, telegraphed hay-maker, and Tetsutestu had just begun to dodge when Kirishima ducked low instead, his feint giving him enough time to ram his shoulder under Tetsutetsu's ribs. There was an audible squeal of metal, Tetsutetsu's eyes widening half an instant before Kirishima roared and lifted him off the ground with his forward momentum, one arm locking around the inside Tetsutetsu's leg and the other over his shoulder. Izuku was sure time had stopped completely in the single moment Tetsutetsu was airborne, before the deafening silence was broken by Kirishima's shout of exertion. He flipped Tetsutetsu over in a brutal arc, slamming him back first into the concrete hard enough to create a crater on impact.

Two beats of stunned silence followed, before everything became a cocophony of noise. Present Mic howled into the mic and the crowd roared and Izuku cheered his heart out in elation, tears tracking down his face in glistening streaks. Tetsutetsu twitched once on the ground before he went limp, and Kirishima thrust a shaking fist into the air, his grin as blinding as the sun.

"Tetsutetsu Tetsutetsu is unable to fight!" Midnight called out above the din. "The winner is Eijirou Kirishima!" Izuku flopped bonelessly into his seat as the declaration rang out, his grin too large to withhold, even as it was dampened by his tears.

Izuku slowly blinked out of his haze of excitement a few moments later as he was very suddenly reminded of the fact that the majority of his classmates had been sitting right behind him when he'd begun actually crying from sheer happiness over Kirishima's victory. He endured a single heart beat of eyes burning into the back of his head before he sprung out of his seat.

"H-h-haha w-wow,"Izuku began before anyone even had a chance to say anything, his tone a hysterical facsimile of casual, "I c-completely f-forgot, I n-n-need to go s-see Uraraka b-before her match s-starts, well s-see you later g-guys!" He made a halfhearted effort to walk normally instead of sprinting away in acute mortification like he really wanted to, and almost tripped on his way up the stairs. He darted back into the interior of the stadium, accompanied only by the echo of Kaminari's loud 'What the hell was that about?'
--
Izuku lingered outside the 'Player 2' waiting room that he was (fairly) sure Uraraka was in, anxiety pinning him in place with indecision. He didn't-he knew she was facing Kacchan, next. And as much as she talked about sending him into space when he said something rude, there was no denying the fact that Kacchan was terrifyingly strong. Beyond being just powerful, he was intelligent and creative and tactical and mobile, with incredible endurance and inhuman amounts of drive.

It wasn't that Izuku didn't believe in Uraraka, because he did. She had frightening strength (he could still taste dirt after their sparring sessions) and a passionate spirit, and all she needed to do was activate her Quirk on Kacchan once to win. He knew she was capable of winning, and that was why he was so hesitant to see her. What advice could he possibly offer her? His only fight with Kacchan that didn't involve running or being passively beat up had ended in absolute catastrophe, which meant he had no leg to stand on.

It'd be awful of him to not say something encouraging, and Izuku really did want to offer Uraraka his support. He just didn't want to screw things up for her right before her fight. He couldn't say anything to unsettle her or damage her confidence, which meant he basically couldn't mention Kacchan at all, not even indirectly-

"Midoriya?" Iida's voice broke through Izuku's clouding thoughts, blinking down at him in mild shock from the open doorway. "I was wondering where you were. You disappeared earlier; are you alright?"

"A-ah, yeah, I-I'm fine now. I-is Uraraka..?" Izuku stepped back a few paces, and was greeted with a head of brown hair slipping past Iida.

"Hey Izuku!" Uraraka greeted him with a thinly applied cheerful grin, her shaken nerves barely contained beneath it. Her voice sounded strained with the effort to sound carefree, and Izuku's heart ached at the sound of it. "I was worried when you ran off earlier. You promise you're really okay?"

"I-I-yeah, I pr-promise. I j-just..." Izuku plastered on the most confident grin he could manage, a crooked, unseemly thing that bled sincerity regardless. "I-I wanted to wish you luck, i-in your fight. I'll be r-rooting for you."

Iida's expression suddenly looked a little nervous, and there was a beat of silence before Uraraka's gaze softened with fondness. "That's really sweet of you, Izuku. Thank you."

That should have been the cue to let her walk by, to end the conversation and move on. But words bubbled out of Izuku before he could think to stop them, rushed and smashed together. "D-don't be a-afraid of him. H-he's strong, but-but I k-know you can w-win, I know y-you can-"

Izuku's babbling was silenced when Uraraka stepped boldly into his space, sliding her arms around his middle and gently linking her fingers behind him. "Don't worry so much, Izuku," she spoke into his shoulder, her voice slightly muffled. "I'm-I'm glad you believe in me, I really am. But you should focus on winning your own match, okay?" She squeezed him long enough for him to gently return the embrace, thrown off-kilter by his inability to see her expression and know if she was really okay, if things were really alright-

Uraraka slid from the embrace as quickly as she'd initiated it, the smile on her face trembling but unbreakable. Her eyes shone brightly, and she forced a slightly competitive bite into her tone. "So you better watch out, Izuku; I won't hesitate to kick your butt in the finals." The buzzer inside the waiting room sounded insistently, and Uraraka took a deep breath. "Well, guess I should get going. Bakugou won't beat himself, will he?"

Uraraka turned away with none of her usual flourish, her frame set with solid determination and simmers of confidence. He stared after her even as she left his sight, unable to process how he'd managed to befriend such incredible individuals.

He was startled out of his reverie by a hand resting stiffly on his shoulder, and turned to meet Iida's smiling visage. "I suppose we should go make good on your promise to cheer Uraraka on, don't you think?"

"I-y-yeah. You're right. W-wouldn't want to miss her winning, huh?" Izuku's smile was partially functional, sufficient enough to hide the worry coiling in his stomach. He walked in step with Iida, paying half attention to the recap of his fight with Mei Hatsume, and attempted to convince himself that everything would be fine. Uraraka was strong, and determined, and Izuku believed in her. And that was enough.. wasn't it?
--
Izuku shuffled through the stadium halls with leaden feet, the dark whirlwind of his thoughts reduced to a single, damning statement etched on the inside of his skull. Uraraka lost. Watching from the stands had been unbearable, seeing her weather explosive blows one after another, flinching and faltering but never giving up, even when she was painted in grime and smoking burns. Her meteor shower had been brilliant, an ingenious plan that should have allowed her to win, and he'd never been more proud of her than in the moment she'd unveiled it.

But it wasn't enough. Kacchan's power was so unbelievably overwhelming, and it had saved him even after he'd been outsmarted. Despite all of her talent, and strength, and ingenuity-Uraraka lost. She'd lost, and Izuku had no idea what he could say to make her feel better. His experience with losing in the past had been a dull ache of certainty, knowing beyond a shadow of a doubt that he'd never amount to anything, and thus his failure didn't sting as much. But trying your best, putting all your heart and soul into winning, and then coming up short-what could he possibly say to that?

Izuku stopped short at the sight of ash blond hair bobbing up the stairwell to his right, his limbs locking in place as magmatic eyes seared into him. "H-hey, Kacchan," he offered meekly, raising one hand in a jerky wave.

Bakugou sneered at him in response, looking slightly worse for wear. His forearms were plastered with bandages, and there was a bandage taped to the side of his nose where he'd been scored by a sharp chunk of rubble. "..Tell Uraraka she put up a decent fight for such a fucking loser. And tell her I expect better next time." There was heat in his words, but not the sort meant to harm. Kacchan was an open furnace instead of a raging wildfire, his burn low and controlled.

Izuku blinked in shock, completely caught off guard by Kacchan's barked request, thought it was probably more like a command when he thought about it. "U-uh... y-yeah, I'll, uhm. D-do that. C-congrats on w-winning. I-I'll see you later-"

Izuku only managed a single step before he was frozen in place by Kacchan's voice rising into a near shout. "I'm not fucking done talking yet, shithead! Let me make one thing really fucking clear to you, Izuku. Your dumbass girlfriend went out there and tried her fucking hardest, even against me. So if you don't fucking go out there and do every-fucking-thing you can to beat that stupid half-and-half bastard, I swear to god I'll fucking come in that ring and bury you alive." Izuku quivered under the molten weight of Kacchan's stare, his eyes wide and unblinking. "Got it?!" Kacchan barked, startling Izuku out of his shock.

"Y-yeah, I-I got it. I-I'll do my b-best!" Izuku nodded frantically, a crooked, rictus smile on his face. Kacchan's eyebrows furrowed as he brushed his way past, presumably heading back towards the viewing stand. Izuku heaved a breath of relief when he left, still unused to handling a Kacchan that was one hundred percent intensity, and zero percent malevolence.

He hurried down the hallway towards the 'Player 2' waiting room, relieved when he didn't run into anyone else on the way. He heaved a shaky sigh and pushed through the door, only to stop short at the sight of Uraraka seated at one of the tables, a fresh jacket wrapped in plastic on the table in front of her and a bandage taped on her cheek. Her burns had vanished, but the stench of nitroglycerin still clung to her. He was struck with the image of her smoking and still on blasted concrete, having weathered Bakugou's assault to the breaking point. She looked smaller, sitting alone in the ugly concrete room; her battlefield presence had shrunk in the quiet.

"Oh, hey Izuku!" She greeted him with painfully false cheer, her eyes dim with smothered fire. "Ugh, I can't believe I let Bakugou beat me! Guess I'll just have to kick his butt the next chance I get, huh?" Izuku could see goosebumps on her arms from the air conditioning, the jacket pristine and unopened on the table.

Izuku was silent for a few moments too long, struggling to figure out what to say before he realized he had to actually say words. "U-uh-it-y-you were a-amazing out there, U-Uraraka," he blurted, refocusing on his memory of her plan to make the sparkle in his eye as genuine as possible. "Y-your-you were s-so cool, I h-had no idea your Quirk was s-so strong." He faltered for a moment when her smile broke into shock, something liquid hot behind her eyes, but resolved to push onward. "Y-you were incredible. I-I don't think I've ever s-seen Kacchan look so nervous when he fought someone."

She blinked up at him for a moment, her eyes taking on a glassy sheen before she smiled sadly down at the table. Her cellphone was clutched in one hand, a battered looking flip phone with a key chain bearing little ornaments. "That's really sweet of you to say, Izuku-"

Sensing the defeat in her voice, tinged with the surety of being undeserving, Izuku forced himself to interrupt. "I-I'm serious! E-even Kacchan-he said to t-tell you that y-you put up a-a really good fight, a-and he thinks you'll b-be even better n-next time!" Izuku's enthusiastic recounting dimmed a little when Uraraka sent him a skeptical look, and he flushed and sheepishly scrubbed a hand through his hair. "H-he... didn't say it in those exact w-words of course, but t-that's probably what he meant."

Uraraka regarded him carefully for a moment, before a soft, wobbly smile appeared on her face. It might have been enough to fool anyone else, but Izuku could see the fragility behind it. "I-it's really nice for you to want to cheer me up, Izuku. I... I really appreciate it." Her breath hitched a little as she spoke, and Izuku was besot by a spike of panic that she might start crying. "But I'm okay. Really." She paused as the echo of Present Mic's announcing the beginning of the second round permeated the walls, and offered a brighter smile. "Sorry for distracting you-I'll be cheering for you, okay?" Her expression wasn't solid quite yet, but she didn't look moments from falling apart either. Izuku was struck with the urge to just-sit with her, as long as he possibly could, but there just wasn't time.

"I-I, y-yeah, n-no, y-you're fine really-" Izuku floundered a little, unused to working with a time limit. He sucked in a deep breath and leaned in to wrap his arms around Uraraka's shoulders, pulling her in for a quick hug before backing off. "I-I should get going. U-uhm, see you!" He had half a moment to see her wide, shimmering gaze before he forced himself to leave, certain that he couldn't do anything else for her in the few minutes he had.

He rushed out of the waiting room, the door clacking shut behind him as his sneakers squeaked against tile. His forward momentum was brought to a catastrophic halt a few moments later, as he was intercepted by echoing footsteps from his right. They were powerful and purposeful, and Izuku was struck very vividly by the realization that he did not want to see who possessed them when he was accosted by a titanic mass of muscle and flame, more akin to a burning wraith than any normal man. Izuku's eyes nearly bulged out of his head, terror cramming itself into his throat at the sight of the number two hero, Endeavor.

"Ah, Izuku Midoriya, correct? I've been looking for you." If Todoroki's anger had been frostbite, then his father was an arctic blizzard trapped in human form. Every inch of him radiated cold despite his flames, his eyes narrowed and impossible to read. "I've been watching you closely since the first event-you have an impressive amount of power, a sort I've never seen before." Rather than the compliment it could have been mistaken for or the observation it was structured as, Endeavor's words sounded harsh and calculating.

"U-uh.. t-thanks. W-what did y-y-you, uhm, n-need me f-for?" Izuku shrunk under his shadow, fear positively boiling under his skin. He couldn't read a trace of anything from Endeavor except for latent fury wreathed by flames. He would have been intimidating even if Izuku didn't know the truth about him-his monstrous abuse and lack of empathy only made him more terrifying.

Endeavor's eyes narrowed further at the sound of Izuku's stutter, his lips curling with displeasure. "Hmph. Despite its wielder, your power can't be ignored. It will provide an adequate hurdle for my son; a marker of his progress towards surpassing All Might. Be sure to use that power to its fullest. After all, anything less would be shameful." There was a moment of silence where he appraised Izuku further, his eyes resting on scar tissue for an instant before he turned away. "That was all I had to say. Apologies, for taking up your time."

Izuku could practically feel the chill radiating from Endeavor's frame, a physical indication of what resided inside of him. The lights in the hallway flickered as something hot and putrid rose in Izuku's chest, squeezing in alongside his fear. Endeavor's callousness, his disregard for the feelings of others, even those of his own son, made Izuku angry.

"I-I am not an obstacle for your son to climb," Izuku uttered, his fingers clenched at his sides as wisps of dark fumes seeped through his skin. Endeavor halted and turned to glance at him over a shoulder, his eyebrows knitted together in annoyance that quickly became stark shock. Izuku's silhouette snapped around him, an inky backdrop that ached to magnify and consume. "And y-your son is not a legacy for you to g-groom, Endeavor."

For perhaps a nanosecond, Izuku saw through the warped layers of hatred that twisted and twined around Enji Todoroki like a coccoon. He plucked at the fear that clung to his insides like black mold, deep and cold and poisoning. He strummed a resonating note that made eyes like frostbite dilate with terror, breath locked in a chest used to spit fire and fury. If Izuku so desired, he could extend gnarled fingers deep into the core of primal fear, and unravel Enji Todoroki with a single tugged wire.

And then Izuku blinked, and Endeavor blinked too, all traces of Living Nightmare vanished as if it had been a trick of the light. Silence rang between them like a struck gong, Endeavor cemented in place. Izuku choked and turned away to hurry down the hall a moment later, his breath tight in his throat until he was sure there were no pursuing footsteps. He couldn't dwell on it, he didn't have time. Endeavor wasn't important. Izuku sucked in a deep breath, and stepped out into the sunlight.

The roar of the crowd buzzed like white noise in his ears, nearly deafening in its intensity. But Izuku was not a mess of shaking nerves and a cracking psyche- he moved with heated purpose, Living Nightmare throbbing like a second pulse under his skin. He shivered as it coiled around his ulna, seeping between the cracks in his metacarpals and forcing tiny, twisting fumes from the pores on his palm. It almost felt eager.

Izuku grit his teeth through the discomfort, forced shaking legs to obey and his lungs to inflate despite the winding tendrils and pulling wires. Living Nightmare was his power to control. It did not define him. It was to be respected, but not feared. Izuku climbed the steps to the arena, eyes locking on bicolor hair and a heterochromatic gaze that scorched him like a freezer burn, and resolved to never run away from the things he had to face.

He faced Todoroki without flinching, his hands shaking but his spirit unbreakable. Present Mic's voice echoed in the background of the silence that settled between them. Izuku had to fight, had to do his best to prove that everyone supporting him, everyone believing in him meant enough for him to change. He was terrified, but he wasn't backing down. Izuku braced himself as Todoroki slid his right foot half an inch forward, shaking from fear and nerves. He curled the fingers on his left hand into claws, and cocked his right arm backwards, palm facing forward with the heel of his hand jutted outward and his fingers curled inward to the second knuckle. Izuku stood with a smile like a paper mask battered by the breeze, and stared into eyes as hard as permafrost.

["BEGIN!"]

Living Nightmare roared to life in Izuku's chest, a great and terrible howling that he forced to bend to his will. The concrete under Todoroki's right foot turned slick with ice, crystals growing in chunks and columns in their race to freeze Izuku solid. He thrust his right arm forward like a firing pin, a plume of coal black fumes erupting from his arm in the same moment the concrete buckled and cracked, his power carving a deep groove that shattered Todoroki's forming iceberg into shards.

In an instant the air between them was choked with dust and fragments of ice, the kickback pulling Izuku's breath from his lungs and fuzzing his vision with spots of static. He staggered backwards and threw his left hand in an upward arc, spitting out a choked cry as he bled fumes and carved through obfuscating dust, thinner grooves peeling the concrete apart like paper. The air boiled like glass in the space where his power lashed out for something to destroy, warping the silhouette of Todoroki braced against a wall of ice.

Izuku panted for breath and stability, blinking hard through spots of static to search Todoroki for injuries. His arms were scored with thin red lines from frozen shrapnel, his breath leaving him in puffs of white mist. He stared Izuku down through the space between his arms, his voice carrying clear across the arena. "You won't hit me directly, will you?"

That was the only warning Izuku got before another wave of ice blitzed towards him, a thin, curving wall of crystals that obfuscated Todoroki behind it. Izuku backpedaled as quickly as his shaking legs would take him, eyes darting to try and pinpoint Todoroki to avoid using his Quirk on him directly. A flicker of hair caught his eye over the top of the ice, and Izuku swept his arm out in a backhand, fingers pressed tightly together. His stomach roiled and churned, a wave of nausea making him dizzy as the wave of ice shattered into dust.

But instead of seeing Todoroki retreat away from the force of his attack, Izuku's heart slipped through his ribs as his opponent vaulted over the destruction on an icy slope, leaping off the end of it and making himself an obvious target that Izuku couldn't afford to hit. He staggered backwards in an attempt to avoid the collision, his right leg half numb underneath him. He avoided Todoroki's fist by a hair, eyes widening as it was cushioned by the wreath of ice that sprouted around it.

He struggled to create some distance, fumes drifting lazily from his arms in stark contrast to Izuku's wild panic. The ice crept towards him faster than he could get away, a thousand screeching notes echoing in Izuku's head before he grasped a single tone. He wrenched his left hand up and aimed into the open air at his side, his fingers flexing outward as Living Nightmare's power burst from his palm. He was flung like a rag doll from the writhing force, deafened by static and gasping for air even as he struggled to angle his right arm.

It moved like it'd been filled with lead, his fingers barely able to twitch as Izuku fired at an angle to send him hurtling back towards Todoroki's side of the ring, crying out as he was jostled by the abrupt mid-air turn. Instead of the open concrete he'd been hoping to land on, Izuku was greeted by a set of widening eyes and a shock of red and white hair before he slammed bodily into Todoroki, sending them both crashing to the ground.

Izuku's head rang from the force of slamming it into Todoroki's shoulder, a ringing ache behind his temples that made the whole world lopsided. It was nothing compared to the static, a breath of fresh air that he had to use to his advantage. Desperately afraid of being frozen by Todoroki's right hand, Izuku kicked out of the tangle of limbs before his opponent had time to recover, skidding across concrete in his effort to retreat.

Todoroki was up on his feet barely a second later, his forearms smeared with blood and his clothes dusted with powdered concrete. He heaved a misting breath, and it was only then that Izuku realized he was trembling. "You can't regulate the strength of your attacks, can you? That's why you were hesitant to dodge, why you won't use it directly on me. You're afraid of it, aren't you?" A sheen of ice formed from the tip of Todoroki's shoe, the ground slick underneath him. "That's why I'll beat you. And I'll do it without his power." White clouds leaked from between his lips, his eyes darkened into black ice by resentment.

"Y-you're wrong. I'm n-n-not afraid of it. N-not anymore." Izuku's heart thundered in his chest, Kacchan's fire flooding through his veins and twining with the oil slick of his resolve. Izuku staggered to stand upright, shadowed by thick clouds of Living Nightmare's fumes. The world was dim and muted around him, his pupils blown wide in their effort to devour what light remained, to swallow whole the sight of Todoroki, marred by blood and streaks of his own ice. Izuku's resolve soaked into his words, bloating them with absolute certainty. " Y-you're not strong enough, Todoroki. You'llnever beat me, not like that. Not w-when you let your Quirk control you."

Todoroki's lips twisted with anger, and that was all the indication Izuku needed to cleave his hand through the air, annihilating the oncoming wall of ice before it could fully form. He gasped and fell backwards from the recoil, his right arm burning like he'd lit in on fire. The fumes were thicker, flowing stronger and heavier even between attacks. He didn't have many left-if he wanted to win, he had to end things quickly. But he couldn't-he couldn't shake the image of Todoroki's pain, the tremor in his voice as he spoke of his mother, the hurt and rage that twisted around his father's name like poison. And beneath it all, beneath the mask and layers of ice and the hurt and the loathing and the drive-there was fear. There wasalways fear.

And Izuku couldn't let anyone be afraid ever again. He glared into the obfuscating static, and raised his right arm in a fist, even as it trembled and burned and bled fumes like a broken engine. "W-well?! Are you g-going to beat m-me or what?! Sh-show me w-what really m-matters to you! A-are-are you g-going to give it y-your all, or l-let your Quirk c-control you?!"

He stared unblinking into the darkness, waiting for the slightest indication of an oncoming attack. "...What the hell are you trying to prove?" His head jerked left towards Todoroki's voice, fingers twitching uncontrollably. "You want my fire, is that it? Why are you even trying? I know you won't hurt me. I know every attack you use weakens you. Do you really think you can win when you can't even see me!?"

Living Nightmare burst to life in Izuku's left arm as he swept it in a wide arc, the concrete rumbling underfoot as all sound was replaced by a static drone. But he wasn't frozen, he wasn't out of the ring, which meant he must have destroyed the attack. "I d-don't want to h-hurt you, Todoroki," Izuku half sobbed into the silence, because he knew someone was listening. "I don't want t-to hurt anyone. B-but I won't a-always have a choice. Y-you-do you r-really think y-you're the only one th-that doesn't love their Quirk? Th-this power..." Izuku raised his right arm, the muscles trembling and contracting uncontrollably as it slowly raised into the air. He pressed his numbed fingers against the side of his face, tracing the scar he knew was there. "T-this is what h-happened, b-because I was afraid! Th-this is the p-price I paid," Izuku choked out, his eyes squeezed shut as tears trailed down his face. He wouldn't run away, he wouldn't run away, he wouldn't let anyone be afraid like him-

"It happened, b-because I let my Quirk control me! Just like you! But it isn't in control!" Izuku staggered through his unraveling senses, struggling to blink color back into his retinas and parse through the static that deafened him. "I-it's your power, Todoroki! Y-yours, and n-nobody else's!"

Izuku's senses returned to him in a crawl as he tore at the knotted wires in his chest, his arms sputtering fumes in dying spurts. He blinked through a blindfold of static and a sheen of tears, colors colliding together at the same moment that he was battered by a wave of heat. Shouto Todoroki stared back through half a suit of living flames, his left half engulfed in a crackling blaze. His lips were pulled into a wild grin, pulled into place by so many emotions that Izuku couldn't even read them.

"It really is a shame... that you're so nice. It almost makes me feel bad for wanting to win." A laugh poured from Izuku's mouth before he could contain it, relief and elation and joy exhuming the raw fear of Living Nightmare. Of every emotion on Todoroki's face, there wasn't even a single trace of fear.

Izuku struggled to raise his left arm, fingers limp and his joints aching and his skin scorching hot. He stared into the swelling depths of Todoroki's fire and the sub zero frost radiating from his right side, and all he could do was smile. He poured Living Nightmare into his arm, and clenched tight the moment before it burst free. A cry left his throat, the power exploding under his skin as it built, and built, and built. Fumes plumed off him in gargantuan clouds, a swirling mass of noxious darkness that heated his skin until it was unbearable.

Izuku's charged burst and Todoroki's sheets of ice and lashes of fire collided with a series of concrete barriers that had formed in the middle of the ring. The power that burst forth from Izuku's arm tore and snapped at the air around it, super-heating molecules until they erupted in showers of white sparks. Their Quirks met in a maelstrom of burning heat and suffocating cold, choked with horrid, noxious fumes like the ashes of dark matter, framed by a galactic cluster of crackling white sparks. The impact turned Izuku's vision to static in an instant, and he could barely feel the air explode around him as he was flung to the concrete, skidding and scraping against it.

He panted for air as the dust swirled around him, unable to hear anything through the howling wind. The tears on his face had evaporated entirely, his face sticky and tacky and prickling with heat as he flattened his cheek against the ground. It hurt, every inch of him hurt so much, but it was okay, as long as he'd helped Todoroki. He'd done his best, he'd done everything he could, and all that was left was to hope it was enough. Midnight's voice rang out over the arena, muddled and distant as Izuku's consciousness slipped from his grasp.

"Todoroki is out of bounds! Iz..u M..or..a .. .he win..r!"

Oh, Izuku realized hazily, he'd actually won. That was surprising. The corner of his lips twitched upwards, and the world faded away as he was swallowed by darkness.

Chapter 32

Chapter Text

Izuku Midoriya found his consciousness in much the same way he might find his place among the stars. He plotted lines between the fractured shards of his mind like constellations in the night sky, a galactic map to lead him through the inky ocean of dissociation. Synapses glimmered with electric starlight, cosmic currents bringing nerves to life, thoughts lighting up in soft nebulae to combat the colorless void. With every breath that continued to flow through his lungs, the wires loosened their hold, little by little.

"K-Kirishima," Izuku stuttered, his heart thumping hard in his chest as he was assaulted with memories of his friend's fight, of Kirishima's shining determination and awe inspiring strength and the blinding heat of his smile. Izuku's cheeks burned hot, his eyes shining even as he reoriented himself. "I-I'm so sorry I m-missed you after your match-y-you were so incredible! Th-the way you fought-your Quirk is so cool, a-and I had no idea you were so strong and I'm so glad you won, y-you were amazing out there-"

Izuku's starstruck babbling ground to a halt in a blasted wreckage of shattered syllables when Kirishima's chest shook with a wet laugh, his eyes shiny with tears. The sight of it caused a hurt like feeding his heart through a meat grinder, and Izuku choked in his effort to apologize, to right whatever he'd done wrong-

"I can't-you can't do that to me, man," Kirishima laughed breathlessly, his grin held up through sheer force of will. "I guess it figures, huh? You wake up after passin' out for three hours, and the first thing you do is tell me how cool I am. How do you expect me to handle that, Midoriya?" Kirishima's shoulders drooped in sync with his smile, the teasing note in his voice overwhelmed by relief and upset. He ran one hand through his hair, crimson locks parting for his fingers. The sheen over his eyes coalesced into droplets that trailed down his face, each one making Izuku feel like he was being eviscerated. "You-I'm so proud of you, man, and I'm so glad you're alright, but.." Kirishima's voice wavered for a moment, "you can't keep doing this to yourself."

Izuku twitched and shifted under the sterile white sheets, guilt filling his throat until he was sure he'd choke to death on it. "I'm-I'm so-sorry," he croaked, his thoughts colliding in a frantic mantra of make it better make it better. He reached out to press the tips of his fingers to the side of Kirishima's hand, and resisted the urge to shy away when fingers clenched around his own. He squeezed back in an effort to provide some sort of reassurance, blinking hard to quell an uprising of tears. "I-I didn't-I didn't mean t-to-"

"I know, I know you're not trying to make anyone worried," Kirishima interrupted, clutching at Izuku's hand as if it were a lifeline. "But I'm worried anyway, man. You can't push yourself like that, over and over again. I thought-" Kirishima visibly struggled to dislodge the words from his throat, and Izuku frantically wrapped his other hand around the one in his possession. "I thought it'd be like the USJ again, where I had no idea if you were gonna wake up or not." Tears dripped steadily from the tip of Kirishima's nose, landing in silent impacts and darkening Izuku's sheets in tiny splotches.

Izuku swung his legs over the side of the bed, barely capable of thought beyond the thundering of his heart and the empty ache of regret. He leaned forward to rest his head against Kirishima's slumped shoulder, gently releasing the grip on his hand to instead capture him in a hug. There was a long moment of silent inaction, thick and crushing, before Kirishima returned the embrace, his arms strong but vulnerable around Izuku's back.

Izuku pressed his nose into the fabric of Kirishima's uniform, his breath hitching a few times as he struggled not to cry. Kirishima was the one that was upset-it'd be selfish to cry and force his friend to comfort him. "..You s-said I was out f-for three hours. W-what happened, with the tournament?" Izuku's words left him slowly and hesitantly, apologies clouding the entrance of his throat like gnats. Apologizing over and over again wouldn't change anything, wouldn't undo what had happened, but the desire still burned in him.

"After you won against Todoroki, there was a break while everyone waited for you to wake up. But uhm.. yeah, you were out so long, they gave Todoroki your spot in the bracket. He beat Iida, and lost to Bakugou in the finals. The award ceremony had to be cut short, because Bakugou tried to throw his medal at Todoroki, after he didn't use his fire in their fight." Izuku sagged with relief at the hint of a smile in Kirishima's tone, and gently curled his fingers in the loose fabric of his uniform. "Tokoyami came in third, by the way. And, technically Iida did too, but he had to leave early..." Kirishima's amusement fled as quickly as it had come, replaced by something quiet and somber. "He uh, said his brother, Ingenium... apparently he got hurt by a villain."

Izuku stiffened with dread and horror, easing out of the embrace so that he could make eye contact with Kirishima, his hands lingering on bare forearms. The warm, firm skin under Izuku's palms was oddly calming, and the soft tickle of arm hair made a small, distant part of him vaguely wonder if Kirishima's Quirk affected keratin in addition to his skin cells. Izuku blinked to force himself to refocus on blood orange eyes that were dim with concern, all traces of Kirishima's smile wiped away. It was a sobering reminder of the situation. "T-that's awful. Is-does Iida kn-know if he'll be okay?"

"I'm not sure," Kirshima muttered uneasily, the corners of his lips twisted into a frown, "he didn't really stick around long enough for us to find out. Uraraka and Tokoyami know too, but they're heading back to class right now. ..Which is technically where I should be too, but I talked to All Might about making sure you were okay, so, I've got a pass."

Izuku hummed quietly to indicate he was paying attention, the air between them thickened into a strange, melancholic intimacy. He swallowed something hot and oily in his throat, struggling to maintain eye contact. "Th-thank you f-for telling me-I'll be sure to text Iida later. And, um..." Izuku's face colored slightly, thumbs reflexively rubbing along the lines of Kirishima's forearms. "I-I promise to be more c-careful. I s-should have been earlier, but it-it just... f-felt right in the moment, I-I guess? N-not that that's an e-excuse, or anything I-I just-"

"It's okay, Midoriya, I'm not like, mad at you or anything." Kirishima's eyes turned soft, gently smoothing over the solemn edge they'd taken before. His lips quirked into a grin that only flashed a small strip of teeth, and he reached out to boldly pat the side of Izuku's face. "How am I supposed to be mad at a face like that, anyway? That'd be criminal, man."

Izuku's face turned hot so quickly he vaguely worried he'd burst a blood vessel somewhere along the way, his unmarred cheek burning from the brief contact with Kirishima's palm. He wrapped both arms around his face to try and contain his embarrassment, torn between either suffocating himself or screaming into his forearms. "Th-than-thank y-you for n-n-not b-being m-mad with m-m-me..." he stammered in a catastrophic amalgam of broken syllables, feeling vaguely nauseous from the warm, fluttery sensation under his ribs.

Kirishima laughed, something softer than his usual boisterous amusement that nonetheless captured the essence of his brightness. "You'd have to try pretty hard to get me mad at you, bro. And as long as you're more careful with your Quirk from now on, I won't have any reason to worry, right?" There was a beat that suggested Kirishima's question wasn't rhetorical, and Izuku nodded through the cage of his arms, unable to trust his voice not to break. "Good. We should probably run you by Recovery Girl and get you back to class, now that you're up."

He offered Izuku an open hand, and Izuku haltingly unwound his arms to grasp Kirishima's hand. The redhead easily pulled him to his feet, and the heat on Izuku's face persisted when he made no move to release his grip, instead twining their fingers as if it were the most natural thing in the world. Izuku endured Recovery Girl's admonishments in a daze, consumed by the sudden realization that Kirishima's hands were much softer than he would have thought. The redhead had no significant callouses, leaving behind smooth and unblemished skin that was likely a result of his Hardening, when Izuku really thought about it. He was unable to devote any significant processing power to analyzing Kirishima's Quirk considering his mental faculties were already on the brink of overload just from holding his hand, so Izuku resigned himself to theory crafting some other time.

He blinked out of his thoughts when Kirishima nudged him with a shoulder, offering him a side profile of a brilliant grin. "Now that I don't have to worry about Recovery Girl calling me out for 'disturbing her patient', I get to tell you how awesome your fight was!" Kirishima knocked their shoulders together again out of excitement, bright liquid eyes making Izuku's insides melt into goop. "You totally gave Todoroki a run for his money, man, you were freakin' crazy! You wrecked his icebergs, got him to use his fire, and still knocked him out of the ring! It really sucks that you had to be disqualified-if anyone could'a knocked Bakugou on his ass, it'd be you."

Izuku shrank against Kirishima's side as they walked, partially from the inability to handle being praised, and partially from the brief shock of terror at the thought of what fighting Kacchan would have been like. "M-maybe being disqualified w-wasn't a bad thing, though.." Izuku trailed off for a moment, only to sputter back to life when Kirishima fixed him with a worried look. "N-not to say I d-didn't want to w-win, and keep going-but y-you said it yourself. I-I was pushing myself t-too hard."

Izuku stared hard at the open space between the tips of his shoes, his melancholy lightening noticeably as his fingers were gently squeezed. The corner of his lips twitched upwards, and he squeezed back. "..W-when the Sport's Festival started, I wasn't really sure what w-winning meant to me. Hearing how excited everyone was, h-how much everyone wanted to do their best.. h-hearing it from Uraraka, and Kacchan, and-and you, it made me w-want to do my best too. After the first two events, I thought... I thought 'this is it, this is w-what I want'. I wanted to w-win, and prove I was good enough, prove I was s-strong enough. B-but after the fight with Shinsou.."

Izuku paused to take a short, rattling breath, hoping it could exonerate him of the memory of static and cotton, strings and wires. "I-I wasn't so sure anymore. I di-didn't know how much winning was r-really worth, i-if I had to hu-hurt people." He leaned a little further into the comforting weight of Kirishima's frame, the full body warmth keeping his tears at bay. "B-but seeing you and Uraraka fight, and during my match with T-Todoroki... a-as much as I wanted t-to win, I thought that maybe it w-wasn't so important. I-if I could do my best to h-help other people do their best, l-losing doesn't seem so bad. M-maybe that sounds dumb, b-but... it f-feels right, I guess."

Izuku was pulled from his reverie by the sound of a loud sniffle, eyes widening as he looked up to find Kirishima with his lips quivering and tears budding in the corners of his eyes. "I-I-I'm s-sorry, a-are you o-oka-" His words were squeezed into a breathless squeak when solid arms wrapped around his middle, embracing him with such vigor that Izuku was sure he'd snap in half.

"I can't believe how manly you are, Midoriya," Kirishima practically wailed into his hair, nose pressed firmly against the crown of Izuku's head. "How the hell am I supposed to compete with that, man?!" Izuku breathed a sigh of relief when he realized Kirishima wasn't actually upset, a squeaky giggle easing out of him at the sound of Kirishima's melodrama. He closed his eyes and sagged into the embrace, the horrible twitching tension in him finally, finally draining away.

The Sport's Festival was over, and even though he hadn't won, it'd still helped him, and he'd hopefully been able to help the people he cared about. Things weren't perfect, of course-the thought of Iida's brother being injured sent a nauseating jolt through him-but they weren't awful. Engulfed in the warmth of Kirishima's arms and tentatively acknowledging the pleased fluttering in the pit of his stomach, it dawned on Izuku that he might have even begun to understand what happiness really meant.
--
Eijirou Kirishima had never really thought of himself as the kind of guy that was good with complex emotions. As with all things, he tried his best to be both honest and straightforward with his feelings, and considerate with the feelings of others. Usually, that was easy enough to do, and he didn't give it much thought. It was just something he did.

And then he'd met Izuku Midoriya, and everything had been turned on its head. His first impression of Midoriya... hadn't been the most flattering, when he really thought about it. He'd felt awful even at the time, wondering if the boy that could barely squeak out full sentences and couldn't run without tripping over his own feet had ended up in the hero course by mistake. The first showing of his Quirk had been even worse. Eijirou had worried if it was even safe for him to use it, let alone try to be a hero with such a wild, explosive strength.

That would have been the end of it, but... seeing Midoriya's misery, so thick and palpable that it looked like he was choking on it-there was no way Eijirou could have ignored it. Talking with Iida and Uraraka to follow up on his concern was one of the best decision he'd ever made, and he knew he'd never regret what it led to.

Finding out who Midoriya really was, the boy behind the anxiety, the stuttering, the tears-he was kind, unbelievably so. Eijirou had never met someone that embodied selflessness as wholly and seamlessly as Izuku Midoriya, someone willing to forgive any slight, willing to hold out his hand again and again despite the pain it surely caused him. And there was no mistake that Midoriya was hurting. Every time Eijirou saw his eyes gloss over with tears, saw his limbs shake and heard his voice crack, he felt an echo of that pain, a a product of the empathy he couldn't expunge even if he'd wanted to.

It made him want to ease that pain, to take dim eyes and make them bright with excitement, soft with contentment, warm with happiness. Seeing those eyes turned on him, like spotlights in pitch darkness-that's where the complexity coalesced. Midoriya looked at him with something he could only describe as adoration, something so soft and gentle that it made Eijirou's heart flutter in his chest and kept him awake at night, buzzing with thoughts of what it might mean.

He had an idea of what those looks meant, of course. As much as Midoriya's love for the rest of their friends was obvious and palpable, flowing like sweet syrups, he never looked at them the way he did Eijirou. As much as he wanted to bring it up, to find out if it meant what he thought it did, he knew it wasn't the right time. Midoirya was still so fragile, still trying to find himself... and so was Eijirou. So no matter how much he yearned, he couldn't push things, couldn't do something he might regret. He'd do whatever he could for Midoriya as things were, and if the dynamic changed...

"H-hey, Kirishima?" Midoriya's voice wobbled unsteadily through the evening air, which had begun growing thicker and more humid as of late. The setting sun burned the world with orange streaks, outlining Midoriya with a golden glow that contrasted his dark hair and soft toned uniform. "I-I know we don't h-have school for the next two days, but... I-did you, w-want to hang out? O-over the break?"

Eijirou quirked his lips into a bright grin, half hoping it could mask how vulnerable Midoriya's wide, dewy gaze made him feel. "Yeah, sure thing man. Should we meet at the station, maybe see if anyone else wants to hang too?"

"Y-yeah, that, uhm-s-sounds good." Midoriya failed to mimic his smile, ending up with something small and lopsided that Eijirou couldn't help but find endearing. One of Midoirya's wild curls shifted over his forehead, his hair infinitely more messy without his clips to tame it. Eijirou converted his urge to delicately sweep the curl away into mussing his hand through Midoriya's entire mop, earning a squeak for his efforts.

"I'll catch you later then, Midoriya. Take care of yourself, okay?" Eijirou's grin widened without his direct intent when Midoriya nodded emphatically, so unbelievably genuine. He was so important, and didn't even realize-Eijirou had always wanted to be a hero, to live a life without regret and protect those that couldn't do it themselves. He wanted to be someone others could look up to and rely on, a force of good that made a real difference in the world.

"I-I-I will! U-uhm, s-see you tomorrow, Kirishima!" Midoriya's smile grew until the right side of his face was uneven with his left, and he waved a little awkwardly before he turned to catch his train. Eijirou stuck around to watch him leave, just like he'd been doing for weeks. He'd always wanted to be a hero, but his desire had always seemed intangible, incomplete. But Midoriya gave him something real to work towards. Someone to cheer him on, to inspire him, to remind him of why his dream existed at all. Eijirou Kirishimawould be a hero; for his sake, and for the sake of Izuku Midoriya.

Chapter 33

Chapter Text

Izuku huddled quietly in his preferred corner of the train car, staring intently at the screen of his phone in the dim hopes of drowning out the pounding rain outside. It made him feel twitchy and restless, his scars itchy under his shirt and his fingers trembling on the slick screen of his phone. He mindlessly browsed hero forums, frustrated with his inability to focus on contributing to online discussions as he normally did.

His thumb paused on the screen for a second before he swiped back to his contacts, staring mournfully at Iida's name, along with the unanswered message next to it.

'M: Hey Iida, I'm really sorry to hear about your brother, I hope everything works out okay!! I'd really appreciate knowing if everything is okay but please don't feel obligated, take all the time you need! Take care of yourself!!!'

The tiny 'Read' status had been haunting him for a day and a half, his dread and uncertainty pushing him to go back to it over and over, even though he knew his alerts were turned on. His outings with his friends over the weekend had helped distract him a little, but every moment spent alone slowly but surely brought him back to it.

Izuku bit his lip, thumb hovering over Iida's name for a few moments before he swiped back to his browser, closing forum tabs in favor of the news. Hero news had been fairly light (save for the events he'd actually been part of), and Ingenium's injury hadn't been released to the public yet, so he hadn't been paying as much attention to current events. He swiped to his news feed, his thumb hovering over his screen as the headlines loaded.

'Hero Killer Stain Found Dead, Hero Ingenium In Critical Condition!'

Shock snapped through Izuku's veins in a crackling lightning strike, strong enough that he dropped his phone and had to fumble to catch it before it broke on the floor. Thoughts erupted in his head in buzzing clouds, each one struggling to compute what he'd just read. He'd known that the Hero Killer was at large, felling heroes one by one and leaving only fearful speculation in his wake. He'd-had he targeted Ingenium, meant to-? Would that mean Ingenium was the one who-?

Izuku forced himself to cease speculating, reminding himself that he had access to the full article. He shakily tapped the headline, eyes flitting back and forth rapidly as he read through it. There was a frustrating lack of actual information present in the news piece, but from what he could glean from the context, a number of details were glossed over for a reason. Stain's... remains, had only been described as 'gruesome', and Ingenium's injuries were only said to be 'debilitating'. It made sense; if they released the exact details of Ingenium's condition, it could lead to other villains doing something stupid, and attempting to take advantage of his injuries.

Izuku read further, anxiety tight in his throat as they shared a few scarce quotes from Ingenium himself, describing his assailant and Stain's killer as 'an unknown villain', one wearing a mask that made him impossible to identify. Izuku closed out of the tab as the article devolved into baseless speculation, a distant, sour dread curling in his chest at the thought of a villain that could kill someone like Stain. Maybe it was just-someone with a vendetta, who had achieved his goal and it wouldn't lead to any more killings.

Izuku's sigh went unheard as the train's brakes hissed, discarding his brief sliver of optimism along with further speculation of the situation. It wasn't-there wasn't anything he could do about it, so he couldn't drive himself crazy worrying. The rain was already doing an exemplary job of that.

Izuku clutched the handle of his umbrella tightly as he crept towards the exit of the station, staring bleakly out into the heavy rainfall that awaited him. It was almost ignorable when he was indoors, a distant buzz that could only unsettle him if he didn't have anything to focus on. Walking around in it with only a flimsy umbrella to protect him from the downpour, however, left him significantly more rattled. It did very little to insulate him from the awful sound, and left him feeling disconnected enough to do things along the lines of nearly walking into traffic, and nearly drowning himself on abandoned beaches.

He lingered near the exit for longer than he should have, hesitation thickening his blood to a tarry consistency. Missing school wasn't an option-he'd just have to pray that the rain let up as the day went on, and that All Might didn't decide to hold class outdoors for some sort of 'bad weather' training. Izuku heaved a sigh because that was exactly the kind of thing All Might would do, resignation clouding around him as he opened his umbrella and made his way out into the pouring rain. After everything that was going on he doubted Iida was in any state to walk with him to school, and as much as he completely understood, the thought still made loneliness pang in his chest-

"Midoriya."

Izuku's nerves, having already been wound tight by the pounding white noise of rain and the awful headline he was still struggling to wrap his head around, burst with fright when his name was called out of nowhere. He jumped in shock, flinching so hard that he managed to whack himself in the face with the handle of his umbrella. He yelped in pain, sacrificing one hand to rub at his unblemished cheek to soothe the ache.

"...Is this a bad time?" The voice that Izuku barely even recognized as Todoroki's piped up again, and he followed the source of it to find his classmate stood underneath his own umbrella, his posture uncomfortably stiff and his tone of voice awkwardly concerned.

"Y-you-I, no, y-you're fine, w-why, wh-what are you-um, w-what did yo-you need?" Izuku's words dripped out of him in a messy pulp, his head fuzzed over with static that made it difficult to properly construct sentences. He quivered for a moment under Todoroki's gaze, struggling to read through his neutral expression.

"I wanted to speak with you, about the Sport's Festival. Or, rather.. about what you said to me during it." Todoroki's expression shifted towards vague discomfort, before he abruptly turned to begin walking away from the station.

Izuku stared after him in bewilderment for half a second before he rushed to catch up, his sneakers clapping against the wet sidewalk. "I-I, uhm-a-about that-I r-really hope I wasn't... s-speaking out of turn, or p-pushing your boundaries o-or anything. I-I'm really s-sorry if I-"

"You did push my boundaries," Todoroki interrupted, his voice raised slightly to be heard over the rainfall. "And I wanted to thank you for it. You said some things that I think I needed to hear." He glanced over his shoulder, his eyes piercing and humorless. "So I suppose I can forgive you this one time."

Izuku nearly tripped over his own feet, stricken by the sheer impact of Todoroki's words. He hunched his shoulders together, burying himself as deeply into the fabric of his scarf as possible while his heart raced in his chest. "I-I'm so-sorry-"

"Ah," Todoroki cut in again, something almost like embarrassment shifting on his face, "that was supposed to be a joke. I really do want to thank you for... everything you said. It.. you've given me a lot to think about." He turned away too quickly for Izuku to get another glimpse at his expression, but there was something soft and grateful in his voice, tinged with a weariness he'd never revealed before.

"O-oh," Izuku mumbled faintly, a part of his thought proccess preoccupied with how Todoroki's delivery left quite a bit to be desired. "I-I'm really glad I c-could help. I-what I said before... y-you, if you ever want to t-talk, I promise to listen." He relaxed a little from his defensive hunch, relief helping to erode the shores of static that boxed him in. He struggled to study the lines of Todoroki's shoulders, but failed to find any tell of what his classmate might be thinking.

"You are very kind, Midoriya," Todoroki stated, as though it were an obvious fact that brokered no debate. It made Izuku's face prickle with warmth and his chest run cool with relief; he'd been dreading the fallout of the Sport's Festival, and knowing Todoroki held no ill will towards him helped ease some of that pressure.

"N-no, not at all! You-I-I'm sure it'll be fine!" Izuku's attempt at sounding reassuring ended up more frantic than anything, which probably wouldn't do much to inspire confidence that it wasn't a big deal. It was actually a somewhat poor time, considering the situation with Iida and the fact that Kirishima might still have a chip on his shoulder about how Todoroki had acted before the festival began but he couldn't exactly rescind the offer just after making it that'd be incredibly rude and would likely ruin whatever chance he had at befriending Todoroki or at least becoming acquaintances with him-

"Your mumbling isn't very reassuring, considering you usually do it when you're nervous." Todoroki's voice broke him from his (apparently audible) thoughts, and Izuku ducked his head in embarrassment. "I saw the news this morning. If this is a poor time, I won't take any offense. We could simply have lunch another time." Todoroki turned to catch his eye, the corner of his mouth pulled into something that could have been called a smile. "So don't start apologizing, okay?"

"I-I, yeah. S-so-" Izuku clamped down on the reflexive apology, and flashed what he hoped was a coherent smile. U.A.'s campus was visible just down the road, windows grey and opaque from the reflection of the gloomy weather. His anxiety eased a little, both at the thought of escaping the rain and the knowledge of Todoroki's understanding. "A-another time."
--
Katsuki Bakugou was not a happy camper (which was an infuriating travesty in its own right because he loved camping) when school rolled back around, the downpour of Thursday morning feeling like nothing more than an extension of his irritation over the Sport's Festival. The whole thing had turned into a fucking joke, all because of the two most infuriating fuckheads he'd ever had the displeasure of knowing: that Icyhot bastard and fucking Izuku.

His final match still felt like a charred, sizzling wound that he couldn't help but poke at, each revisiting of it making him clench his teeth until his jaw ached. That fucking freezerburn fucknut had ruined everything, made the moment that should have been Katsuki's triumph into a fucking circus show of bullshit. The look on half-and-half's face when Kasuki had nailed him in the side of his head with that worthless medal had almost made him feel better, but being physically restrained by All Might before he could follow up by strangling the stupid bastard had soured that, too.

He just didn't understand why-why had Izuku been good enough to see Icyhot's fire, to be the only one to fight a real match against the supposed strongest student in their class? Why had he gotten lucky with his opponents, fighting only people that were at a disadvantage, those fucking assholes that had still given him a run for his money, made him work for a victory even when he had the upper hand? Fucking Uraraka had pursued him with such dogged determination to win that he'd almost been convinced she would, when debris rained from the sky and cut at his face, her fingers coming inches away from sending him into the fucking stratosphere, like she always threatened.

And of course he'd had to fight that fucking asshole with sharp teeth and stupid hair, the one that Izuku mooned over with starstruck eyes-Katsuki was still smarting from the half finished throw that bastard had snagged him with, barely able to avoid being pile-drived into the concrete like the worthless imitator he'd obliterated in his previous match.

Even the dipshit bird freak had put up a fight, his stupid weird chest-demon thing forcing him into overusing his Quirk until his fingers locked up with crippling pain, the muscles in his arms strained to their limit. It made him furious to know, so furious-but that bird guy could have won, if Katsuki hadn't fucking put a megaton of explosives into it in the cavalry battle and weakened it for their match. And even after all that, after Katsuki had refused to see Recovery Girl because he was already running on nothing but fumes and fury, Todoroki had still fucking lost.

It felt like fucking pity, being pitted against an opponent only using half his strength, still fucking mooning over his fight against Izuku with angsty sighs like a fucking moron. Standing on that podium after he'd been knocked out, after he'd screamed himself raw in that fucking bastard's face to fight, to fucking prove he deserved to be there-

It had hurt. Katsuki hadn't felt like a winner. He'd felt lucky, like everything had lined up to give him the path of least resistance. He knew that if Izuku had been the one facing him in the final match, staring at him with those big fucking eyes that never looked angry at him, not like he deserved, always so full of empathy and compassion, his fear was gone and even though Katsuki knew it was better that way-he knew he would have lost.

Katsuki had gotten lucky, because he wasn't better than everyone else. He wouldn't have even tried his best-he would have frozen up, cowed by that fucking scar that was his fault, his fault, the thing that kept him up at night with nightmares of bloody teeth and static voices caressing his name, the fear of glassy green eyes, what could have been. He would have lost, and he would have fucking deserved it, too.

And as a result of all that frustration and anger (which his therapist had fucking failed at unraveling in time that fucking hack shrink whoever gave him his PHD should be burned at the stake) he'd been in a.. less than approachable mood. His own reflection had pissed him off, which had been a sure sign that the rest of the day would be fucking shitty. Whatever-it wasn't like anyone really tried to talk to him anyway, except fucking Sticky Elbows and Cosplay Horns. That fucking walking corpse with purple hair had smirked at him, but Katsuki still didn't understand what his deal was, so he didn't count.

They steered well clear of him when he rolled into class like a super cell thunderstorm, his abysmal mood wrapped around him like a net of thorns. He'd bristled further when Izuku walked in, chatting up his friends (he had friends and Katsuki couldn't even call that a role reversal because the fucking losers that fawned over him in middle school weren't friends) before he stopped over at Stupid Glasses's desk, all somber and soft eyed.

Katsuki had seen the news that morning, so he wasn't ignorant of what they were talking about, even if he couldn't hear it. He had no frame of reference for whatever Engine Fuck was feeling, but judging by how gently Izuku took his hand and the way Uraraka embraced him with a stupid sad sack look on her face, he guessed it was pretty shitty. Whatever-Shitty Glasses hated him anyway, so there wouldn't be any point in saying anything to him, even if Katsuki had been able to offer something other than worthless platitudes in the first place.

Katsuki tensed up when shitty Izuku turned his way, gritting his teeth and forcing himself not to break eye contact when he saw that fucking scar. He curled his lips in a snarl when that dipshit nerd opened his mouth to say something stupid, and hurried to cut him off. "Don't fucking come over here with your shitty simpering nonsense, asshole. I know you'll probably try to fucking congratulate me or something equally idiotic, and I don't wanna hear it. I'm already fucking pissed at you-you've gotta be the only fucking moron in the world that can fuck up winning-so unless you have something actually important to say, go away."

He didn't dare to flinch when Izuku faltered, that stupid fucking wobbly smile barely hanging onto his face. "S..sorry for b-bothering you, Ka-Kacchan," he whispered, his tone lacking the fear that had been half of their relationship for nearly ten years. He barely even sounded disappointed-it was all contrite bullshit that made Katsuki feel like he'd swallowed hot coals.

He pointedly glanced away and didn't watch the idiot shuffle back to his desk, glaring holes into the surface of his desk instead. He didn't fucking get why Izuku kept trying to-what, be nice to him? Even that was different from when they were kids, and Katsuki had been stupid enough to believe everything made sense. But everything was different, and he was stuck with the Izuku that had friends and smiled despite the mark on his face and looked at Katsuki like-like something else, something that didn't hurt him or torment him.

And Katsuki found those looks unbearable in a completely different way than before. It used to be that he could physically feel the little fucker's gaze on him; his skin itched and crawled and it made him angry, an anger he could barely pinpoint as anything other than 'hating fucking Deku'. Just being around Izuku had been enough to enrage him, sending him into a violent spiral of negativity every time they were anywhere near each other. He didn't understand why it was different, but he at least knew enough to pin down the exact difference, to know why being subjected to wide green eyes and tentative smiles and hopeful utterances of his nickname was so awful.

It was because he didn't deserve it. He didn't deserve Izuku's forgiveness, he'd written that fucking stupid note for a reason and that thickheaded bastard had the fucking audacity to offer it anyway. He acted like he wasn't the reason Katsuki could barely sleep some nights, the reason he had to see a fucking therapist, the reason he had no idea what his place in the world was anymore-

"Morning," came the tired drone of the Greasy Bastard, his voice carrying through the open doorway as he stalked inside. He didn't have that back brace he'd been wearing, but his posture was still a little stiff. Katsuki ignored the rest of the kiss-asses bleating back at him, waiting for the prick to say what was going on. The one good thing about him was that he usually got to the point pretty quickly.

"Today's class is important," the unkempt asshole continued, sounding as unenthusiastic as possible, "it's on hero informatics." Katsuki waited half a second for him to fucking spit it out, gritting his teeth and stamping down on the urge to bellow when the bastard just stood there, watching the rest of his worthless classmates squirm in anxiety. "..Which means you need code names." Fuck, was it really that hard not to act like a sadistic asshole?

Katuski tuned out the rest of the class as he focused on the actual important information. Hero names... he'd never been great at naming things, but he'd thought long and hard about what he wanted to use as his own name. He'd even been coaxed into sharing it with his dumb ass therapist, who hadn't really said anything except that it was creative. Creative didn't mean good, but it was the only thing Katsuki didn't hate after weeks of trying to come up with a name, so his only choice was to bite the bullet.

Katsuki clenched his fingers against his jaw as the Greasy Prick yammered on and on about draft picks and other shit he'd already explained in their last class, only tuning back in when he actually mentioned something important: the offers they'd received. He glared pointedly at the board as the list appeared, from most offers to least. He nearly bit off his own tongue when he saw Todoroki's name at the top, dwarfing him with over a thousand more offers. Whatever, whatever, he'd still gotten more than everyone else, including Izuku, who had a paltry '1' hovering next to his name.

He ignored the rest of the losers bemoaning their lack of offers, as if it was somehow someone else's fault that they weren't impressive enough to be noticed. He twitched when that idiot with the weird earlobes pointed out the fucking obvious that Todoroki had gotten more offers than him, his temper flaring the moment that fucking electric piece of shit opened his mouth.

"Guess the pros realized Bakugou was a lunatic, after he tried to strangle Todoroki with his own medal." His fucking voice was so infuriating, that smarmy confidence and the caustic distaste lurking underneath, like Katsuki was something foul he'd eaten.

He bit down on the urge to scream, his chest tight and hot as he whispered a trembling "Fuck you, asshole," under his breath. He knew that fucking greasy asshole was keeping a close eye on him-if he blew up in class, he'd have hell to pay. He briefly imagined wrapping his medal around that blond fucker's neck instead, and pulling so tight his stupid fucking head came off. It didn't help.

"Regardless of the offers shown, you'll all be participating in an internship. The USJ may have given you some raw experience with fighting villains, but proper field experience is invaluable. You'll learn a lot more from working under actual pros. Your codenames aren't set in stone, but don't screw around, otherwise-"

The door to the classroom slid open as Midnight entered with a flourish, her over the top entrance barely even registering on Katsuki's radar. "-You might end up with something absolutely indecent! The names you pick today could stick with you for the rest of your careers, so be sure not to pick anything out of sorts!"

Aizawa barely even blinked as she barged into the room, vacating the space behind his desk to grab his atrocious sleeping bag off the floor. "Right. Midnight will have the final say on your code names, since it's.. not really my thing. Remember, hero names are important. They serve to represent both your brand and your ideals, the kind of hero you aspire to be. Don't screw it up." The greasy shithead fixed them all with a tired-eyed glare before crawling into his sleeping bag like the fucking vagrant he was.

Katsuki snagged the stack of whiteboards he was given, passing the rest of them over his shoulder and uncapping the marker with his teeth. He glared down at the blank surface for a few moments, his fingers tight around the marker. Whatever, it wasn't like he could come up with anything better on the spot. He scrawled over the board with the squeak of marker ink, his teeth clenched in concentration.

His fingers tightened on the edge of the whiteboard as Midnight announced that they'd be sharing their names (what the fuck, were they in fucking preschool or something?), suddenly filled with an even deeper loathing for the name he'd stuck himself with. But it wasn't like he had anything else, and he'd actually tried to come up with something instead of half-assing it. He stared down at it as the rest of the idiots shared their stupid shitty names, tracing the characters over and over again until he could see them behind his eyelids when he blinked.

The number of students that hadn't gone dwindled by the second, and Katsuki gritted his teeth before he decided to just get it over with. He stood from his desk with a clatter, stomping up to the front of the room and hesitating for half a second before he slammed the whiteboard down, his name facing outwards. "Master of Deathstruction," he bit out, his teeth bared in a snarl, daring anyone to fucking say a word-

"I'm going to say no," Midnight's voice rang out, making Katsuki's fingers tighten around the edge of the board until his knuckles turned white. "That's a little too violent."

Katsuki bit his tongue to stifle an outburst, it didn't matter it didn't matter he didn't fucking care, even if it was the only name he even half liked, it didn't- "Hey Bakugou, how about you be the Mad Bomber instead?" That fucking electric fuck called out, a fucking stupid smirk on his face and a handful of laughs echoing around him.

Katsuki clutched the whiteboard against his chest until the marker smeared on his uniform, overcome with the same hot, tightening sensation in his chest that made him feel fucking awful. He stalked back to his desk, dropping the whiteboard with a clatter and pressing his forearms hard against the desk top, so he wouldn't be tempted to fling the board at that fucking asshole. He stared down at the wood grain on his desk until his eyes unfocused, because it didn't fucking matter what anyone thought, he'd come up with-something, something even better-

"Really?" Katsuki's head snapped up so he could glare molten fury at the purple haired dipshit strolling past his desk, who regarded him with barely more than a smirk. "Should've just gone with Napalm, or something. Oh well; second time's the charm, right?"

Katsuki went completely still as Shinsou breezed past him towards the front of the classroom, his heart pounding in his chest as a single word ricocheted around inside his head. He glanced back down at his whiteboard, the previous attempt smeared until it was completely illegible. Napalm, huh?
--
Izuku shifted anxiously in his seat as his gaze flickered between the hero name staring up at him from his whiteboard, and Shinsou's slow gait up to the front of the room. He'd been filled with awestruck excitement to hear the names his classmates had come up with (hearing Kirishima's admiration for a hero he looked up to and his passion to follow in those footsteps had brought tears to his eyes) but the slow crawl of anxiety had slowly twined around him, making him second guess himself. It really wasn't anything new, but knowing it was a symptom of his anxiety didn't make it much easier to ignore the intrusive thoughts whispering about how awful his chosen name was, that he shouldn't even bother.

But he couldn't-he wasn't going to give up. Maybe it was true that he was still finding himself, still struggling to figure out who he really was, but he also had a better grasp of who he wanted to be. He'd tempered his aspirations, shaved them down and smoothed them over from a wild, distant desire to be a hero into something more concrete. He finally knew what kind of hero he wanted to be, the image he hoped to portray, the ideals he hoped to inspire in others. He wasn't the same person he'd been before U.A. He wasn't going to give up anymore.

Izuku glanced up as Shinsou placed his board against the surface of the desk with a loud 'clack', his lips tightly sealed and his eyes narrowed as if daring anyone to comment on the 'Trick Question' that shone with fresh marker ink.

Midnight peered over his name critically, her expression thoughtful. "A bit cumbersome to use on the field, but it's certainly creative! If you can come up with some shorthand for it, then you're golden!" Shinsou nodded mildly at her before trudging off, but Izuku could see the way his shoulders loosened with relief.

Izuku's thoughts clouded his head as Uraraka went up next, looking almost as nervous as he felt. His heart eased a little just from the sight of her relief over Midnight's approval of 'Uravity', which he absolutely mirrored-he'd have to gush about how cool everyone's names were later on. Maybe after he was done feeling like he'd throw up from nerves.

Whatever relief he'd acquired by proxy from Uraraka swiftly shriveled up when Iida wordlessly strode to the front of the room, his expression carefully blank. Izuku hadn't had much of a chance to speak with him yet, save for a brief moment before classes began where Iida assured him everything was alright, and apologized for not answering his text. He had seemed sincere, but Izuku couldn't help feeling a distant unease prickle at the back of his head when Iida presented his placeholder hero name without a sound, his normally impeccable handwriting looking uneven. He-it'd be better to speak to him after classes, when he could avoid pressuring Iida in front of everyone else. The last thing he wanted to do was push too hard.

"Midoriya? Are you ready to present your name?" Midnight's voice cut through his somber musings, and Izuku forced himself to focus on the present. He stumbled slightly as he slipped from his seat, shrinking in on himself when he became the center of attention. He clutched the whiteboard tightly against his chest, his heart thundering in his throat. He shuffled behind Mr. Aizawa's desk, his head spinning as his every insecurity emerged to crowd his rib cage, compressing the air out of his lungs. He tapped the bottom of his board against the desk before he could choke, barely resisting the urge to squeeze his eyes shut.

"T-The Pick-Me-Up hero, Starburst." The words left Izuku in a rush of air that emptied his lungs, absolving him of his insecurity and laying flat the carefully cherished efforts of his identity. He didn't even dare to blink, staring at a far point on the wall that allowed him only a glance of Uraraka's encouraging smile and Kirishima's shining grin.

Midnight eyed him over for a nerve wracking moment, making a contemplative sound as he trembled in place. "Interesting, and unexpected. I imagine there's a reason for that name other than aesthetic, yes? A hero's name is more than just a title, after all. "

Izuku swallowed back the urge to balk in horror, attempting to gently unwind the knot in his throat so that he could actually force words past it. "Y-yeah, I g-guess it, uhm-m-makes more sense wi-with the costume.. I-Starburst i-is the kind of hero th-that I admire the most. Starburst is s-someone that others look t-to with relief and hope, so-someone with the power to take away f- fear, just by b-being there. St-Starburst can, can make a-any situation brighter, can p-protect those in danger and-and inspire confidence in them." Izuku paused and took a short breath, words flowing just a little easier, his voice soft and wobbling and bolstered by his passion. "I-I... I'm not Starburst, not yet at least. B-but-that's th-the hero I aspire to be. A-and, maybe one day, I-I'll get there." Izuku quickly blinked away the beads of moisture building in the corners of his eyes, growing more flustered the longer silence followed his words. "I-I hope th-that makes sense, a-again it really-you n-need the costume t-t-to uhm, t-tie it together-"

"Very well thought out, Midoriya!" Midnight praised, her voice dwarfing his meek mumbling, "And very inspiring, too. I approve!" Izuku flushed up to his ears when there was a smattering of applause (the majority of which was provided by a brightly beaming Uraraka and Kirishima, who was openly crying 'manly' tears), scurrying back to his desk with a tiny note of happiness singing in his chest.

Izuku listened with half an ear as Kacchan stormed back up to the front of the room and barked out the name 'Napalm', looking completely out of the loop when Midnight commented on his clever wordplay. He'd reached another milestone, another checkpoint towards being the type of hero he'd always dreamed of: Izuku Midoriya, the Hero Starburst. He only hoped he could live up to the name.

Chapter 34

Chapter Text

"Y-you wanted to s-see me, sir?" Izuku's voice barely managed to echo off the walls of the corridor leading to the bathrooms, his anxiety coming through clear in his trembling words. It had already reached its peak a few minutes earlier, when he realized his single offer had come from Endeavor's hero agency, and having All Might pull him out of class during lunch with that twitching smile on his face had only exacerbated it.

His teacher was facing the other direction, allowing Izuku only a glimpse of the rictus grin on his face. "Yes, I did. You've... gotten an offer, from a pro hero. His name is... Gran Torino." All Might turned just enough to meet Izuku's gaze, his excitement snuffed when he noticed the sweat beading on All Might's forehead, and the dread knocking behind his teeth.

Izuku's eyebrows knitted together in concentration as he ran the name through his head, his latent excitement dwindling further when he only drew a blank. "G..Gran Torino? I-I've never heard of a h-hero by that name before."

All Might cleared his throat, sounding like he'd somehow lodged an entire cactus in it. "No, I imagine you haven't. He was only on the scene for one year, when he taught at U.A. as my homeroom teacher. Taught me everything he knew. He knows about my power, as well; the man trained me to use it himself."

Izuku's eyes widened steadily, from an even mix of 'holy crap the hero that taught All Might had sent in an offer for him', and his confusion regarding All Might's incredibly shaken demeanor. Clearly, something about the situation was too good to be true. "S-sir? Is-d-do you have any idea w-why he'd send me an offer?"

All Might's grin twitched erratically, his voice coming out with none of the confidence Izuku had come to expect from his hero form. "Well, I... may have happened to mention to him that I was looking for a successor. And that you were, you know-someone I had my eye on. It's possible he wanted to-judge your potential himself!"

Izuku covered his mouth to stifle a yelp of shock at the look of naked horror on All Might's face, his eyes so wide he could barely blink. "Of course, you-you should think hard about where you want to intern! Gran Torino-" All Might actually winced just saying the name how scary was this guy, "well, he might be a little... intense, for you. I doubt old age has mellowed him out one bit," All Might muttered more to himself, his deep set eyes looking distinctly haunted. "Of course, you're not obligated to take his offer! You have many options available to you; didn't you get another offer, after all?"

Izuku had the distinct feeling that all of reality was conspiring against him. "Y-yeah. Fr-from... from Endeavor." It figured that his only offers would lead to either being set on fire by one of the strongest heroes alive that he'd been stupid enough to provoke, or having to face a mysterious pro that was apparently scary enough to make All Might himself shake in his boots.

"...Oh. Well-it'd be unprofessional of me to influence your decision..." All Might trailed off, clearly conflicted about something- "Which is why this will be off the record." Or maybe not as conflicted as Izuku had thought. "Gran Torino helped me learn to use my power in combat, without overdoing things. It's... possible he could help you with regulating your own Quirk." All Might shakily dug a folded scrap of paper from his pocket, his hand trembling when he offered it to a hesitant Izuku. "Here's th-the address, just in case. Of course, Endeavor is a very accomplished hero, and there are many fine agencies willing to take on interns this year! So-so be sure to think it over!"

Izuku accepted the paper like it might explode if he handled it without enough care, his mind whirring with possibilities. Someone that could teach him to regulate Living Nightmare... "I-I will, sir. Th-thank you very much."
--
Izuku Midoriya clutched the bulky steel briefcase containing his newly constructed costume, nearly vibrating out of his skin from a combination of his excitement over said costume and his mounting anxiety in the face of his internship, which was only minutes away. At the time, Izuku had been as sure as he could possibly be that Gran Torino was the right hero to choose, but as the seconds ticked away his self-doubt reared its ugly head. But it was too late to second guess his decision, Izuku firmly reminded himself. He'd simply have to do his best to learn from Gran Torino. But that wasn't the only source of his anxiety; there was.. something else, as well.

Izuku jumped a little as Mr. Aizawa's dismissal broke him from his daze, blinking and glancing around as his classmates dispersed to board their own transits. He waved at Tokoyami before he left, and received a bow of a feathery head in return. He'd apparently gotten an offer from an underground pro called 'Grave Keeper', which led Izuku to wonder if his friend had chosen that offer for aesthetic alone. He knew Tokoyami was pretty serious about hero work... but he was more or less equally serious about maintaining his image. Hopefully his internship would be good for him.

Thankful for the station being mostly empty in the middle of a weekday, Izuku scrambled through the gaggle of his classmates in pursuit of a head of navy blue hair, desperate to catch the primary source of his unease. His voice rose in his throat, Iida's name on his tongue-

"Heeey, Iida! Wait up!" Uraraka's voice cut through the moderate background noise that permeated the station, loud enough to both bring Iida to a halt and startle Izuku badly enough that he almost tripped over his own feet.

Izuku scurried over to Uraraka's side the moment she entered his field of vision, having been obscured by load bearing pillars and the thinning crowd of their classmates. Iida faced directly away from them, his shoulders drawn so tight Izuku was worried they would snap, and his normally rigid posture amped up until he was statuesque.

Uraraka side eyed Izuku as if she hadn't expected him to be there, before clearing her throat. "I-we just wanted to make sure you were alright. You know you can talk to us, right?" Izuku mumbled a quiet 'y-yeah' to try and back her up, though it sounded less confident than he actually felt.

Iida turned to face them, stiff as a clockwork toy. His fingers were tight around the handle of his costume case, and his expression was marred by a closed lipped smile. "..Yes, I know," he uttered unconvincingly, his normally sharp eyes dull and bloodshot behind his glasses. Izuku was impaled by a spike of panic when Iida simply about-faced to continue walking briskly away, concern bleating in alarm within his chest.

Before he even knew what he was doing, Izuku rushed forward to lock his hand around Iida's wrist, a paltry "W-wait!" escaping him. He faltered for half a moment when Iida locked in place, but forced his hesitance back with a burst of will. He wouldn't run from the things he had to face. "I-I.. w-we're all really wo-worried about you, Iida. Y-you haven't been yourself lately. I-um, i-if things are-if you f-feel like you need m-more time, I'm sure we-you can talk to Mr. Aizawa, and-postpone your i-internship if you n-need to. N-nobody would blame you. W-we.."

Izuku blinked back the sheen of tears that welled in his eyes, choking on the heat of fear and concern. "W-we just want to d-do whatever we can to make sure you're al-alright." He unwound his fingers from their desperate grip on Iida's wrist, hand falling limply at his side. He forced himself not to cower away and avert his gaze when Iida's head turned back, his glasses flashing for a moment before he met Izuku's eyes.

"..Your concern is very much appreciated. You're both dear friends, truly. I just.. need a little time, is all. So please, don't worry yourselves, alright? Everything will be fine." Iida's lips curved into a much more natural looking smile, small and private but no less warm for it. He still looked tired, his eyes dulled, but he'd lost the glassy sheen that had consumed them.

"A-alright.. I-good luck w-with your internship. S-see you soon." Izuku raised a hand to wave farewell, hearing a quiet 'Bye, Iida!' emerge from Uraraka. Iida gave them a stiff wave and a bow of his head in return, before he resumed power walking towards his train. For all intents and purposes, he seemed as alright as he could be, with his brother in the hospital. He was probably just a little stressed with everything else happening on top of that, and was feeling out of sorts. It made perfect sense. But even so, watching him walk away... Izuku couldn't shake the tiny, festering dread that something was wrong.
--
The mid-morning sun beat down with a vigor that had been lacking in past weeks, warming the air to the point where Izuku half considered removing his uniform jacket. It wasn't quite stifling yet, but the combination of mild heat with his anxiety was enough to lead to clammy palms, softening the paper map to Gran Torino's address. Gran Torino... Izuku hadn't ever heard of him, which was practically unthinkable considering his connection to All Might. It would have made more sense if Gran Torino hadn't been an officially registered educator at the world's most esteemed hero academy, but taking that into account with the absolute dearth of information about him was... foreboding.

It didn't help that his meeting of a mysterious hero that had not only taught All Might, but was also capable of reducing the world's greatest hero into a shaking mess of nerves was congruent with a week long venture away from any and all familiarity that he'd come to rely on. An entire week away from home, away from U.A., away from his friends-it was one of the few times Izuku could ever remember feeling justified in his anxiety.

Logically, he knew that his internship wouldn't be some forced isolation equivalent-he had his phone, so he could text and call his friends or his mother whenever he needed to, as well as a number to call the school in case of any emergency. He also had more than enough pocket money for transit, along with his terminal pass that had more than enough money on it to take him wherever he needed to go. He had absolutely everything he needed that could possibly fit inside his backpack.

He also had his costume, which was way heavier than he'd expected it to be because the case he'd carried his original costume in hadn't been nearly as hard to lug around. But as the one who designed it (in collaboration with the support course) as well as the one who commissioned it (from the support course), Izuku only had himself to blame. He only hoped it wouldn't be too heavy to move around in comfortably. He'd put so much thought and care into making sure it would elevate 'Starburst' from a formless ideal into a physical goal, something more attainable than his endless yearning to become a hero. He finally had a real chance, the opportunity to become something more than the awful curse of Living Nightmare. He really could become a hero.

And his internship was an important step towards that. He just had to... Izuku glanced down at the map in his grasp again, squinting to make sure he was reading the address correctly. He was on the right street, but-he glanced up to regard a squat, four story derelict apartment, surrounded on all sides save the narrow entrance by tall fencing painted in hazard symbols. Izuku took a hesitant step forward, and proceeded to simultaneously leap out of his own skin and scream at such a shrill pitch that it hurt his own ears when a chunk of railing plummeted off the roof, crashing to the concrete with a deafening clatter.

Izuku stared in stunned silence at the cloud of dust engulfing the impact, failing both to unstick his breath from where it had caught in his throat, and calm the frantic thumping of his heart."T-t-th-there's n-no way this is the pla-place, r-right?" He glanced back at the address in his shaking hand, but the address (though smudged by his sweaty palms) hadn't changed at all.

He briefly considered using his briefcase as an impromptu helmet in case of any other falling debris, but it was heavy enough that it'd probably cause more harm than anything. Izuku hastily sucked in a lungful of air and ignored the static whine in his ears, creeping up through the entrance to strike his knuckles against the aged wooden door.

"H-hello? M-Mr. Torino, s-sir? I-thi-this is Izuku Midoriya, fr-from U.A.! I-I'm here about the internship?" He waited nervously for a response, his anxiety thickening exponentially as silence followed. Maybe he just.. hadn't knocked hard enough?

Izuku knocked on the door as loudly as he dared, wincing at the crack of bony knuckles on wood. "H-hello! I-a-are you in there, Mr. T-Torino?" After another long bout of silence, Izuku reached for the handle in the aims of rattling the door, only to find himself surprised when it was completely unlocked. That was.. that was definitely not a good thing. He burned with the urge to call up U.A., and hopefully get in touch with All Might, or Mr. Aizawa about the situation, but..

But what if Gran Torino was hurt? What if someone had broken in, and he'd been unaware or unable to defend himself? He couldn't see any signs of forced entry on the door, but it was equally possible the lock had been picked, or Gran Torino had merely forgotten to lock it behind himself. He-All Might had said he was a pro hero, but that was probably decades ago-

Overcome with the hysterical panic that something might have gone horribly wrong, Izuku flung the door open and scurried inside, immediately struck by the lack of lights that turned the entrance dim and shadowy. "M-Mr. Torino sir, a-are you-" Izuku's costume case slipped from his limp fingers, clattering loudly against the tile floor. His pupils blew wide, horror rushing through him in a tidal wave of clinging tar.

Blood-there was a pool of blood, an old man lying in a pool of blood unresponsive he was dead Gran Torino was dead-Izuku slapped a hand over his mouth to stifle a scream, legs shaking like leaves in a stiff autumn breeze. But-wait, something was-Izuku couldn't smell blood. Blood had such a thick, nauseating stench (that he couldn't scrub from his brain no matter how hard he tried), one that was completely absent from the situation.

Okay, Izuku amended, he probably wasn't dead. But he was still face down on the floor in a puddle of something (sriracha? ketchup?), and that was definitely not good. "S-sir, are-are yo-you okay?!" He rushed forward maybe two and a half strides before Gran Torino abruptly sat up, a wide, vacant grin on his face that made the corners of his mask crinkle.

"Oh, I'm fine!" He sprung to his feet with surprising dexterity for someone that immediately stooped over to lean on a knobbly wooden cane, looking absolutely minuscule even compared to Izuku's lacking height. "I was carrying some dinner and must've tripped on my own feet! Clumsy me!"

Izuku glanced over the former pro to try and confirm that he was really uninjured, worrying his bottom lip between his teeth. "A-are you really sure you're okay, s-sir? You-a-are you in any pain? I-is there-sh-should-do you h-have a c-caretaker I could call, m-maybe?" It felt rude to assume Gran Torino was-incapable, or something of that nature, but he had to make sure the man was actually okay, even if it meant slighting him unintentionally.

Gran Torino froze him on the spot with a look that appeared impossibly shrewd in conjunction with his mask, his lips pursed for a moment before he spread them back in that same empty grin. "Eh, what did you say your name was, sonny?"

"I-Izuku Midoriya, s-sir. F-from U.A.," he tacked on at the end, growing increasingly worried for the state of Gran Torino's mental faculties. Was-had he sent the invite by mistake? It didn't seem very plausible, but equally implausible was the image of a mysterious pro that could strike fear in All Might lining up with the stooped old man smiling obliviously in front of him.

"..Toshinori?" Izuku blanched at the clueless, genial smile pointed in his general direction, struck with the fear that Gran Torino really was senile, and had just-what, been left by himself, with nobody to help him? That was-he had to call All Might, make sure he knew his old teacher was unfit to live by himself.

"I.. uhm, p-please excuse me, s-sir, I... n-need to make a call really q-quick." Izuku smiled as calmly as he could manage, which turned out a malformed, misaligned grimace of barely contained horror. He fished his phone out of his pocket, stepping over to the still open door and thumbing towards his contacts. It was awful that Gran Torino had been left alone in such a state for so long, but all he could do was inform All Might so that he could be taken care of-

Izuku glanced over at the sound of metal latches opening, and jumped at the sight of Gran Torino digging through his costume case. He called out hastily, his voice cracking from his attempt to sound less flustered than he felt. "S-s-sir that's m-my costume, p-please don't-"

"How about you hit me with that Quirk of yours? Show me if you've got a handle on it or not." Gran Torino's voice had leveled out from the whimsical, meandering cadence he'd spoken in before, hands steady as he rifled through Izuku's case. "Pretty good costume; pragmatically designed. Bit too much fluff for my taste, though." He glanced sharply over his shoulder, his stare piercing Izuku's bones and forcing a flinch out of him. "Well, where's that attack?"

"E..excuse me?" Izuku's throat was dry, his head spinning in confusion. Was Gran Torino senile or not? Was it not a total degradation of his mental faculties, and he'd just had an episode when Izuku walked in? But the change in his demeanor was so fluid and immediate, with none of the confusion Izuku would expect from someone dealing with Alzheimer's, or dementia.

Gran Torino regarded him for a long moment, before he broke back out into his mindless grin. "Oh hey, did you need something?" Izuku was thrown for a loop by the switch back to 'doddering old man', gears clicking in his head as he tried to make sense of what was going on, why was Gran Torino acting so strange, was.. was he really just-

Izuku's eyes widened, realization blossoming at the same moment a hot flush of humiliation seared the inside of his chest. Gran Torino was messing aroundwith him. He wasn't senile, or injured-Izuku had been so concerned for his well being, but he was really just-his lower lip trembled with a sudden flare of hurt, undercut by rotten strings of anger. "I r-r-really do-don't appreciate you t-trying to trick me, s-sir. If-if this internship is j-just a-just a j-joke to you, th-then say it, s-so I can sto-stop wasting my t-t-time." It hurt to spit words like venom, sour and unfamiliar on his tongue, but the thought that he was just being made fun of (so stupid, so stupid thinking it was in the past, wouldn't happen again) hurt even worse.

"Weeell, looks like you're not totally spineless after all, are you? Still thick as a brick, but I've seen worse." Gran Tornio regarded him with that same shrewd stare, his smile sharpening at the edges until it was biting. Izuku had half a moment to stare dumbly at him before he leaped through the air like a bullet, zipping with speed and dexterity that made Izuku's head spin.

He ricocheted off the walls, so fast it was a struggle to even see him do it, before he crunched to a halt in the space above the front door, gripping the crater he'd left in the plaster. "You're right about one thing-you need to stop wasting time, and show me what you can do." He flashed that same leering grin, almost as if he were aware of the cacophonous blaring inside Izuku's head because he had no idea what was going on anymore- "I watched you on TV, during the Sport's Festival-the way you swing your power around.. so unrefined, so unaware, it's a miracle you even placed. It's no small wonder why All Might thinks you'd make a good successor-you're just as clueless and reckless as he is. It makes my skin crawl to watch you blunder around with that Quirk of yours, which means I'd better teach you how to use it. Get that costume on, kid, we're heading out. Can't have you knockin' this whole building down, now can we?"

Izuku's eyes widened gradually, his previous hurt twisted on its head with confusion and something he was hesitant to label relief. But as long as Gran Torino was taking things seriously.. "Y-Yes, sir," he whispered with equal parts dread and excitement, nerves jittering with the reality that he'd (hopefully) learn how to better control his power.

Izuku scurried over to his open costume case, pulling out the individual components and arranging them in the correct order to put them on. He'd already read the instruction booklet that had come with his costume, so he had an idea of how all the pieces fit together into a cohesive unit.

Izuku's heart leaped at the sight of shimmering yellow stars and gleaming silver and eye popping color that left him giddy like he hadn't been since he was a child. He pulled out the first part of his costume with shaking hands, rubbing his fingers along the fabric of his jumpsuit. It was primarily dyed a soft green, halfway between mint and pastel, with lines of shiny little lemonade yellow stars trailing down his biceps and thighs in neat lines on smaller, rounded rectangular patches of forest green. The fabric was thick and breathable, with a kevlar weave built into it that made it slightly bulky around his chest and a zipper running down the back. Elbow guards wrapped snugly around his arms, topped with thick pads decorated with rose pink star decals. A high collar brushed against his throat akin to a turtleneck, and pouches had been sewn into his waistline to carry essentials.

his gloves were thick and blocky, their ends stretching past his wrists until they ended halfway up his forearms. They were the same soft green, marked with taffy pink stars on his knuckles and darkened to a forest green on his fingers. The material was flame retardant, and also affixed with texturing on the palms and faces of his fingers to enhance his grip.

The next piece was a rounded piece of armor akin to a bolero, composed of plastic polymer meant to deflect and absorb moderately powerful blows. It slipped on over his jumpsuit, ending just below his ribs and fitted with an open collar that revealed a patch of his jumpsuit. It was decorated with a massive rose pink star decal over his chest, ending in five points and outlined with a darker taffy pink on a background of pastel mint and secondary forest green.

The second item was a pair of bulky steel toed, knee high boots composed primarily of a plastic polymer casing that gave them a smooth, rounded appearance. They were primarily colored in a bright mint green, decorated with a bright, rose pink, five pointed shooting star outlined in a darker taffy pink. It swept down the shin with a three lined trail composed of lemonade yellow, forest green, and taffy pink behind it. That shooting star decal was repeated on a pair of thicker armored knee guards located on the top of the boots, rounded at the tops to meet the mouth of the boots and ending in a shallow point just below his knees.

The tips of his boots were more like steel cudgels, curving over akin to the armored boots of a jouster. They were polished to a mirror finish, treated with an alloy that allowed him to see his own unmarred reflection in them. The soles of his boots were built for shock absorption, which both gave him a slight heel and contributed to the weightiness of the boots overall.

The last major piece was his mask, composed of three separate parts that all slotted together, seamlessly. The first part was a slick white ceramic half-mask that contoured to the shape of his face and covered everything below his nose, resting high on his cheekbones and curving over his chin. It was blast dampening (according to the support course), and had a layer over the surface that made it shiny and smooth like a whiteboard. It clasped together in the back with silver metal stars, and had a removable mouthpiece that allowed the rest of the mask to be worn independently. A bright pink translucent visor fitted over the top half of his face, capable of slotting into the lower portion but also coming with a smooth fabric strap that could allow him to wear it independently, or let it dangle around his neck.

All that remained were his accessories: he had a belt similar to the one from his original costume, composed of the same capture weapon alloy and decorated with a silver star clasp that could allow him more material to work with. He also had a pair of sliver bands that could link together into a pair of magnetic handcuffs, similarly decorated with stars and located on his left bicep and his right thigh. He also had an assortment of star shaped clips to thread through his hair, a set of shimmery silver face paint, and assorted water soluble markers that could be used to draw on the surface of his mask.

Izuku was in tears by the time he managed to force his trembling fingers to tighten his belt, filled to bursting with emotion as thick and sweet as strawberry syrup. He couldn't stop running his gloved fingers over his costume in disbelief, thumbing at the star clasps and the scrunched fabric of his elbow guards and failing to stem his tears. For the first time since entering U.A.-the first time in his life, Izuku felt like a hero.

"C'mon kid, wrap it up! We're burning daylight!" Gran Torino's voice was barely even dulled by the front door to the building, where he'd been waiting impatiently for Izuku to don his costume. He flushed and fumbled to close his costume case, hanging his mask from a loop on his belt and allowing his visor to rest around his neck. Excitement burned hot in his limbs, filling him with pleasant sparks that fueled his desire to learn, to push himself to the next step.

"C-coming, Mr. Torino!" He called back, rushing to open the door and embrace the shining sunlight. It helped to burn away the lingering traces of his anxiety, static quelled into silence by the sugar sweet rush pounding in his veins. If he could find a way to regulate his power-if he could fight to protect without causing serious harm-if Izuku could learn to use Living Nightmare to save others, absolve them of fear.. then it would all be worth it in the end.

Chapter 35

Chapter Text

The heavy heat of a fully risen midday sun beat down on the barely populated streets leading away from Gran Torino's apartment building, uncovered by clouds and untethered by the chill of winter. It was hot enough that Izuku was beginning to regret designing his costume to be so heavily insulated, his armor practically cooking him alive. He was at least relieved of the mobile oven a full helmet would have been, the shimmering star-point clips that framed his visor a minimal weight that afforded maximum reassurance. Less reassuringly, the mirror-shine of his boots was blinding him whenever he stepped at a certain angle, and he hadn't been able to figure out exactly what angle that was. The original intention of the design was to help him see around corners, or blind opponents, or... provide whatever other miscellaneous uses a mirror could have. Instead, they seemed to be very good at causing him retinal damage. They at least managed to fill the space his stickers had occupied, shining and bright and helping to lift the gloom around him.

Of course, he couldn't expect to be used to his costume immediately; it would take time to get used to wearing, as well as using his accessories. He definitely wasn't used to the substantial weight of his boots, which were probably a little more dangerous than he had initially intended. Kicking someone would really hurt them. On the plus side, they were sturdy enough that he could probably drop a cinder block on his foot and not feel it, which would be extremely useful for disaster rescue. He just needed time to train with them, so they wouldn't feel so clunky and awkward to move around in.

And speaking of training.. "M-Mr. Torino, s-sir? W-where exactly are we going?" Izuku's voice broke the stoic silence that had hardened between himself and Gran Torino, the retired hero managing to outpace him despite being a foot shorter and (probably) fifty years older. Izuku glanced around nervously at their surroundings, which had transitioned into neglect and dilapidation at some point when he'd been lost in thought. The buildings were old and in disrepair, the streets lined with potholes and all signs of foot traffic completely vacant. It looked like the sort of place Gran Torino's apartment would have been dragged and dropped out of.

"Training grounds," Gran Torino called back to him, not even sparing a look over his shoulder. "There's a junkyard a few streets down. A good place for you to show me that Quirk of yours up close, don't you think?"

"Y-yes sir," Izuku answered reflexively, realizing half a second later that it was probably rhetorical. He just couldn't help it-Gran Torino made him nervous. All Might hadn't been wrong about him being a little intense. The thought buzzed in his head, reminding him of what else All Might had told him. "U-uhm-you m-mentioned earlier, a-about... Mr. All Might th-thinking I could b-be his successor. I-is that why y-you put in an offer f-for me?"

"Mister All Might?" Gran Torino's voice was half amused and half exasperated, dredging up a pang of embarrassment in Izuku's chest. "That's it on the nose, kid. Tosh-All Might mentioned you by name, said he saw a lot of potential in you. After the Sport's Festival, I wanted to take a closer look." Gran Torino gave him half a glance over his shoulder, gaze made unreadable by his domino mask. "You've got a lot of power-let's hope you can figure out how to use it."

Izuku nodded hastily, feeling both hopeful and pressured about figuring out a better way to use his Quirk, so that he could live up to All Might's recommendation. Izuku couldn't bear the thought of letting him down-of letting anyone down. It wasn't like before; he had people that believed in him, and he had to make them proud.

As caught up as he was in his own internal monologue, Izuku didn't realize Gran Torino had stopped walking until he nearly tripped over him, and then nearly tripped over his own feet a moment later when he frantically backpedaled.

He flushed when Gran Torino speared him with a critical look, sighing in exasperation. "Alright kid, time to shake the lead out. We're here." He turned to stroll right under the traffic barrier separating the junkyard from the open street, the booth beside it seemingly abandoned along with the mountainous piles of decommissioned vehicles and miscellaneous scrap that populated the sun baked plot of land. It was tucked at the back of what Izuku assumed was an abandoned factory, most likely a vehicle manufacturer considering the abundance of ruined cars littering the junkyard.

"I-Is it l-legal for us to be here?" Izuku questioned warily, ducking under the barrier to retake his place at Gran Torino's heels. He was struck by the smell of the junkyard a few steps in, which reminded him strongly of his beach, only with less sea salt and more motor oil.

"Hm? Oh yeah, sure," Gran Torino replied in a dismissive tone that did very little to inspire confidence, disappearing behind a stack of rusted oil drums propped up next to a dilapidated tow truck. Izuku squeaked in fright when the stack rattled ominously, before Gran Torino reappeared, dragging a slightly dented barrel behind him. He pushed it out into the middle of a clearing between a pile of sedans and a wall of miscellaneous junk set up on racks in wooden crates, adjusting it so it was set as far apart as possible from everything else.

Gran Torino knocked his knuckles against the drum, looking satisfied when it made a hollow 'clunkclunkclunk'. "Alright, there's your target. Now show me that Quirk of yours." He stepped off to the side, seemingly unconcerned with the way Izuku immediately locked up with performance anxiety.

"Y..yes, sir." Izuku fumbled to strap on his visor and click his mask into place, wary of being impacted with shards of tetanus bearing shrapnel. He hesitated for a short moment before forming the fingers on his right hand into a fist, raising his trembling arm and resisting the urge to flinch when the power of Living Nightmare snapped to life, slithering into his arm and squeezing his bones with yearning tendrils. He sucked in a breath, and before he could overthink it any further, he thrust his fist towards the oil drum. It snapped back from the recoil, but the weight of his boots kept him steady on his feet, leaving him frozen in place as inky fumes seeped from his arm in lazy clouds, the oil drum erupting into a shower of rusted shrapnel and metal dust a fraction of a second later.

His vision fuzzed over with static for a short moment, the whine of squealing metal and chorus of showering debris dying away to leave him mostly unaffected, save a curl of nausea in the pit of his stomach. After the half-blind battle with Todoroki at the Sport's Festival, the drawback of using his Quirk while well rested and well fed was almost a relief.

"How much range you got with that, kid?" Gran Torino's voice served to snap him from the tenuous grasp of static, and Izuku glanced up in time to see the retired pro inspecting the pile of powdered rust left behind by the barrel. He didn't say a word about it, merely walking past to size up a nearby set of cars.

Izuku brushed his arm as if he could clean it of the dissipating fumes, unsure if he was supposed to follow Gran Torino or not. "U-uhm... r-roughly forty feet, s-sir. I-I haven't found any d-discernible delay between using it on d-distant targets versus c-closer range, b-but it do-does, uhm, h-have a baseline delay of f-fourteen milliseconds-"

"A real chatterbox, huh?" Izuku nearly bit his tongue in his haste to quell his nervous rambling, uttering an apology so quiet that Gran Torino didn't even seem to hear it. He regarded Izuku with a shrewd stare, before gesturing for him to step forward. "Just remember that this is physical training, not an oral exam."

Izuku shrank under the retired pro's critical gaze as he skittered up to stand in front of the ruined sedan, glancing back at Gran Torino for further instructions. "Let's see what close range applications that Quirk of yours has, shall we? This car should be able to take a few hits at least. Just try not to break your hand or somethin'-I'd hate to cut this short with a hospital trip." Gran Torino thumped the trunk of the car, which rested on a set of cinder blocks in lieu of tires. "Show me what you've got."

With a nervous nod, Izuku swapped places with Gran Torino, sizing up the rear of the vehicle while the former teacher watched from a few paces away. It was so different from practicing with Tokoyami at the beach-he was terrified of messing up under Gran Torino's scrutiny, and felt off-kilter from being in an unfamiliar place with an unfamiliar face. But he couldn't let that stop him; he had to learn how to use his Quirk more effectively. Izuku sucked in a deep breath to brace himself, curling his fingers into a tight fist-

"By the way, let me know if the side effects of your Quirk get to be too much," Gran Torino interrupted, his voice shattering both Izuku's concentration and his built up power, which dissipated into a few paltry wisps and a flash of heat under his knuckles. "I'm here to train you, not kill you. Got it?"

"G-got it, Mr. Torino." Izuku flashed a weak thumbs up, feeling a smidgen of relief. At least Gran Torino wouldn't work him to exhaustion. He pulled in a slightly smoother breath, holding the air in his lungs and tensing his legs to help keep him grounded. He shifted just enough that it'd feel natural to twist into his punch, instead of throwing it loose and wild like his ranged attacks. Izuku dug into the pit of his chest, threading his will through a single wire and yanking it into his arm.

The wrath of Living Nightmare exploded from his knuckles and the tops of his fingers, excess power venting all the way up to his shoulder in a gush of opaque fumes. The destructive force ripped through the rear end of the vehicle in an instant, breaking worn metal down into dust and reducing everything up to the front seats into useless, finely powdered detritus. The front end of the car groaned as its weight shifted, the hunk of vehicle sliding off the cinder blocks and crashing to the ground a moment later.

Izuku could barely hear the shrieks of abused metal through the haze of static hornets swarming in his ears, his stomach twisting into a knot and his smoking arm half numbed between the tips of his fingers and the crook of his elbow. He staggered backwards, vision swimming, and gasped for air behind his mask. The world fell out of focus for a few moments, but Izuku was prepared. He forced the migrating shelves of his drifting consciousness back together, gritting his teeth and clenching his twitching hand until the nerves fell back in line. He controlled Living Nightmare, it did not control him.

"A lot less collateral that way, huh?" Gran Torino ambled up to inspect the remaining chunk of car, which rested half on the cinder blocks and half in the pile of what used to be its rear half. He lingered only for a few moments, before pressing on towards another part of the junkyard.

Izuku hurried after him, feeling increasingly nervous from Gran Torino's sparse comments, all which were maddeningly neutral. Mr. Aizawa and Mr. All Might were always quick to point out strengths and weaknesses, highlighting areas that needing improvement and helping them figure out ways to do so. Without a verbal acknowledgement of his progress and shortcomings, he had no idea if he was doing something wrong or not. It was extremely disconcerting, but he was too nervous to bring it up; he was fairly sure annoying Gran Torino was the last thing he wanted to do.

"Next up is accuracy and reflexes." Gran Torino stood next to a pile of old tires, having rolled one off a precarious stack to rest upright at his feet. It stood nearly as tall as he did, and Izuku had to lean over to the side a little to actually make eye contact. "I'm gonna launch this into the air, and you'll take it down with your Quirk. Simple enough, right?"

Without any further warning, Gran Torino wrapped both hands around the lip of the tire, lobbing it up into the air a few feet, snapping out with a powerful, flat footed kick to launch it like a rubber bullet with his Quirk (Izuku still wasn't sure exactly what Gran Torino's Quirk was, but it was definitely propulsion based; perhaps a localized burst of air pressure?).

Izuku hesitated for a fraction of a second in surprise before he peered up at the tire through his visor, taking another half second to judge how far he had to lead before he activated his Quirk. He thrust his arm into the air like a lance, obscuring his own vision with the blast back of fumes bursting from his arm. The tire burst open like a tarred balloon, roughly half of it erupting in a gout of smoking rubber scraps that showered the junkyard like raining embers. The air roiled like melting glass in the space where Izuku's power had lashed fruitlessly, creating a pocket of exploding molecules that sent the ruined remains of the tire shooting horizontally through the air, disappearing over the top of the building bordering them in.

"U-uhm.." Izuku piped up hesitantly to catch Gran Torino's attention, pulling his gaze away from where he'd been watching the tire sail into the distance. Izuku attempted to squeeze some feeling back into his fingers, while also failing to ignore the anxious pit that was widening in his chest. "D-did I do.. a-alright?" Izuku flinched as a car alarm abruptly began to wail in the distance, a small part of him thankful that his mask helped hide the absolute wreck of a smile on his face.

Gran Torino regarded him with a stare so heavy he could practically feel his organs collapsing, his lips set in a thin line that make Izuku's knees wobble. "You've got a long way to go, kid." His words were cutting, but his tone of voice lacked anything Izuku had been expecting; he wasn't disappointed that Izuku hadn't met his expectations, or resigned to the fact that he'd made a poor choice in sending his offer. He was just.. stating facts. "It's clear you have a solid grasp on the fundamentals of your Quirk, how to use it at peak effectiveness at your current level and understanding. You're mindful of its overwhelming destructive force, but not so cautious that you hesitate to use it at all. You're careful not to overexert yourself, and you understand your limits.

"But," Gran Torino continued before Izuku had a chance to catch his breath and recover from the whiplash of his emotions, "you're too slow, too stiff, too unrefined. You can't fight villains with an artillery cannon, and you can't save civilians with a mortar strike. Regulating the output of your Quirk is the biggest obstacle you face; you can't plan through every move you make. Until you can use your Quirk as if it's second nature without causing harm to yourself and others, it's useless to you."

That... wasn't as bad as Izuku had been expecting. Gran Torino was just telling him the truth, outlining his exact strengths and weaknesses, highlighting where he had to go to improve, where he still fell short. He was definitely All Might's teacher. "I-I.. I know, sir. I'm just-I don't k-know how to regulate it. Th-that's the smallest amount of p-power I've ever managed. I... I d-don't know if it even can g-go lower-"

"Listen, kid," Gran Torino cut in, before Izuku could start spilling self deprecating statements without meaning to, "there's no such thing as a Quirk that's all or nothin'. When you turn a doorknob, you can stop yourself from ripping it right off, right? You can toss a ball without throwing it as hard as you can?"

"W-well, yes, b-but like you s-said my Quirk isn't second n-nature yet so I d-don't-it d-doesn't feel like a muscle y-yet, I-I'm just not sure-" Izuku's words devolved into a yelp of fright when Gran Torino activated his Quirk, snapping six feet upwards in a split second of motion that left a cloud of dust flying out from under him. He twisted around in a somersault, legs cracking outwards again to launch him through the air on a dime, the retired pro reorienting himself so that the sole of his shoe hurtled towards a quickly panicking Izuku's face-

The flat of Gran Torino's shoes tapped against Izuku's mask, the sudden weight forcing his head to crane backwards. Izuku peeked open an eye in bewilderment when he didn't experience the expected pain of being kicked in the face, only to feel a small gust of air ruffle his loose curls, no stronger than an oscillating fan. He nearly tripped backwards when Gran Torino pushed off his face like a springboard half a moment later, twisting through the air to land effortlessly on his feet.

"Every Quirk can be regulated, kid." Gran Torino planted his hands on his hips, pinning Izuku in place with another critical look. "That smoke that comes out of you arm-what purpose does it serve?"

Izuku rubbed self consciously at his forearm, frantically trying to organize his scattered thoughts. "I-it-I... I'm p-pretty sure it's a result of using my Q-Quirk-like v-venting, maybe? It-uhm, it gets r-really hot the more I u-use it, a-and I produce larger q-quantities as well. It's d-different from my other symptoms, though..." When he really thought about it, that smoke wasn't present when he used any other aspect of Living Nightmare, as far as he knew. He'd never woken up on the beach in a cloud of it-the only link was when the scars on his torso felt hot, but they never reached that horrible burning sensation. Even his stun had never produced anything similar, resulting only in his familiar flashes of static, numbness, and loss of muscular control.

"Venting, huh? It's interesting you used that word. What's the purpose of venting, then?" That shrewd look was back on the retired pro's face, his lips curled up in a smirk that almost felt expectant.

The gears in Izuku's head whirred rapidly, spitting sparks as he frantically connected his racing thoughts together. "V-venting is usually u-used in machinery, l-like automobiles, t-to.. to relieve an e-engine of excess h-heat, and.. i-in oil fields, wh-where they would burn off e-excess power-" Every moving part in Izuku's head ground together in gridlock, his eyes blowing wide behind his visor as realization flashed through him in an electrifying wave. "I-I really am using too much power, a-and my Quirk has to burn it off s-so I don't hurt myself! So-so there has to be a way to c-control my output, right? B-but.. how does knowing t-that help me?"

"The way we view and internalize our Quirks is paramount to how we use them. Perspective matters more than you might realize." Gran Torino smirked in satisfaction, clearly pleased that Izuku had come to that conclusion on his own. "The next step is helping you put your perspective into action. Do you visualize anything when you use your Quirk? Got a metaphor of some kind?"

"Y-yeah, s-sorta. It's.." Izuku wrung his fingers together, practically twitching with apprehension and excitement blended together in a bubbling froth, feeling unbelievably close to some kind of-revelation, to the next stage of his development. "I-it's like wires, c-connecting every p-part of me on the inside. A-and... and when I n-need to use my Quirk, I find the r-right wire, and just... p-pull on it."

"The right wire, huh?" Gran Torino's forehead wrinkled in thought, one gloved hand brought up to rest against his lips. "Gotta say, from where I'm standing it seems more like you're a bit off. You're reaching for fishing wire, but every time you grab a suspension cable." He turned away with a swirl of his cape a moment later, one hand thrown casually through the air. "But we can save that for another time-I think that's enough training for today. Let's head back and grab some grub."

Izuku stood frozen in place as his teacher ambled towards the entrance of the junkyard, seemingly oblivious to the fact that he wasn't being followed. Izuku's eyes were wide and glassy behind his visor, pupils searching empty air as his gears clicked together, their teeth red hot. He felt off balance, but simultaneously more even footed than he ever had before. It was like every molecule in the universe lined up for a split second, right in front of him, and he was left behind in a fundamentally changed world to contemplate what it meant. "The wrong wire...?"

"Hey, hurry up already, kid! I'm starvin'!"

"I-y-yes sir, Mr. Torino!" Izuku called back, fumbling to unclip his visor and remove his mask, hanging it from the loop on his belt. He was incapable of impeding the crooked, ecstatic grin that spread across his face, the transcendental glow of revelation bursting in his chest. He practically skipped out of the junkyard after Gran Torino, his heavy boots feeling as light as air. The only thing he had to do was find the correct wire, right?
--
Tenya Iida was losing control. Slow and subtle, his rage wormed through every crack of his body, seeping into his joints, into his very bones. It crashed into his ribs like a roaring piston, a 'thumpthumpthump' that shook loose the bolts and screws that held him in a single piece. It was maddening to walk the streets under a brightly shining sun, his costume's armor gleaming brightly and the hero Manual chattering cheerfully, the sounds of life singing sweetly in his ears. He was grateful for his helmet-it at least allowed him the small mercy of not forcing a facial expression.

"-ngs have been pretty tense around here, after everything that's happened." The normal hero, Manual. Tenya had nothing against him-he seemed kind and earnest, and entirely genuine in his hospitality. Perhaps it would have been a worthwhile internship under other circumstances. But seeing him act so casual and amicable, knowing that the world had no intention of stopping merely because his brother was-

Grief poured over the red heat of his anger, hissing and igniting like a thick, putrid oil. But he still needed more time-he just had to be patient, and then.. "So you're keeping a presence on the streets, to dissuade further incidents and inspire security in the civilian populace." What a lie, what a joke, the steady hum of his voice and the worthless small talk he manufactured were bitter on his tongue.

Manual turned to offer him a brief smile, his features chiseled but youthful. "Yeah, that's what we're hoping for." His gaze turned again and Tenya followed it robotically, to find a pair of middle schoolers waving in recognition. It brought forth a pain like a live wire, sparking and sizzling and impossible to ignore.

Perhaps it was merely a symptom of grief, to have everything remind him of Tensei, of what he could no longer do, what he could no longer be. "It really is an honor to have you interning at my agency, Iida! I'm honestly a little surprised-I'm sure you had way better offers to choose from." Manual's modesty was distant, the hum of machinery locked behind concrete.

It was all he could think about-the man who murdered the Hero Killer. What sort of man could that be? What sort of man could kill such a notorious villain, and mutilate a professional hero in the same night? Perhaps it was hopeless-Hosu could be a complete waste of time. Tenya had no way of knowing if that man was even in the city anymore, if he'd skipped town and left behind only a cold case in his wake. Perhaps it was fruitless.

But he couldn't simply let it rest. Tenya would not rest until he'd who it was: found the man that killed the hero killer, the man that shook his world apart, the man that took his brother's livelihood, his passion, his accomplishments, his Quirk-Tenya would do everything in his power to find the man who took the hero Ingenium's arm, and bring him to justice.
--
"So.. you're the one that killed him, right? The guy that killed Stain?"

A hovel dressed in filmy smoke and splashes of intoxicating spirits, rancid rot masked by wood grain and paltry bulbs-yes, he'd been lead to a hovel, a disgusting little pit home to a putrid morsel playing a prime cut. The sight of this Shigaraki filled him with the desire to clean between his teeth, to rid them of the foul gristle scraping at his patience.

"You know this. That is why you've brought me here." Methodical and frosted, shaped by the familiar embrace of iron, his ire was thick and broiled black. It was meant for the one that had interrupted his work, a flimsy curtain of shadows meant to obfuscate the weak carcass underneath. It was effort wasted-in the end, he was nothing but meat. "To join your 'League of Villains', to scrape you out of the gutter after your failure. I'm sure you could have found any manner of filth willing to beg for your scraps-what is it you think I have to offer you."

The shadow billowed, ill at ease in fine cloths designed to falsify the human form-his blades would not mind them. "We had been keeping an eye on the motives of the Hero Killer while he was yet at large. The original intention was to seek him out, and make a powerful ally. But your handiwork lead to a change of plans."

"We need another carry, after the USJ." Shigaraki, cloaked in hands that squeezed sickly flesh, his face contorted as though it were not used to being exposed-perhaps that would have been for the better. "And you've gotta be pretty high level to take out Stain. You'd be a valuable addition to our party."

"What is it you expect from this arrangement. What are you after." Perhaps not greed, the gluttonous yearning to gorge upon blood soaked currency, fattened up until they were bloated and ready for slaughter-Shigaraki was bone and silver flesh, scummy with dull scales and wide, bulbous eyes.

"What are we after? Well... killing All Might would be a nice end quest. You seem like the type of weirdo that'd be into that." Not quite bristling-only the cold pulse of distant anger, its bite long lost in the blades he cherished. They did all the biting he needed. "I want to kill all the things I fucking hate, like this-" A photograph, clutched in two sickly fingers that trembled with rage-wide eyes, green hair, an abundance of scar tissue, "-this disgusting fucking freak. I hate him, and I want him dead. You can chop him up nice for me, isn't that right Mincemeat?"

His assumptions had been correct-his valuable time was being wasted on human dregs, meat unfit to be eaten. Disposal seemed the correct solution. "Your words are heavier than you can carry, Shigaraki. You want to kill All Might-perhaps you believe you can rise above your station." There were no gloves-not when he was on business. Though he could not feel the bite of wood in his palm, the rasp of steel on leather was sufficient. It had not been long since his cleaver tasted muscle and bone-he could only hope there would be less fuss. "I will be the judge of that. Prove to me you are strong enough to challenge All Might. If you are unable, then you may submit to your place... or die. Stain made his choice. What will yours be, Shigaraki."

Rage was his answer, as he had expected. It prickled through Shigaraki like bone splinters, turning him from a mere strip of gristle into something septic. "Who the hell do you think you are...? You really think you can tell mewhat I can and can't do...?! Kurogiri, get rid of him."

Yes, the teleportation-the shadow, Kurogiri, was responsible for it. It was just as well; Shigaraki was too thin to carve into anything worthwhile. He did not mind spilling blood, but being given the opportunity to return to his work was hardly an inconvenience. He could hunt down Shigaraki again in the future-or perhaps he'd be eaten alive by his folly. The head of his cleaver fell to dig into the floorboards, splitting wood like cartilage. "It is just as well. Let us be done with this charade."

Darkness brought to life, the space between worlds that soaked into reality would bring him back to more important matters- "Just a moment, Kurogiri-don't interrupt. It's possible that a hard lesson is the only way he will learn. Our guest has quite the knack for inspiring growth in others. Let's see what he has to offer, shall we?" A voice far removed, masked by glass and wires-the computer in the back of the room must belong to the one that held the leash.

"Sensei.." Frustration, irritation, spilling like blood from salt dry lips-yes, Shigaraki wore the collar, held in check. It was likely the only reason he had not yet been stomped beneath larger heels. Like a snake he lunged-teeth bared and palms grasping to constrict, consume, throttle-yes, a scaled cobra, eyes blackened with hunger for death dealt. Too many bones, not enough meat-but easy enough to gut.

Mincemeat was not one to be caught unawares. Heavy boots and blade scarred hands, clicking together bones weak enough to be mistaken for poultry. Shigaraki wriggled in his grasp, fingers clawing and fangs spitting worthless venom. His hands... "You are not fit to wield this." A cleaver was designed for use of momentum, the blade thick and dull so that it would not break when smashing bones. Mincemeat pressed his boot between birdcage ribs, but he would not be butterflying. The squelch of tendon and meat, bones snapping jagged but cleanly broken by the head of his cleaver. Going through the motions-Shigaraki's hand was limp in his grasp, the stump free of blood save for the necessary waste of the cut. Pale little fingers, nails bitten and crusted with blood. It would need a proper washing.

He pressed down on ribs until air was forced from them, the head of his cleaver resting against a throat ravaged and scarred. A sick animal, tearing itself apart-it was unlikely he wouldn't have to put Shigaraki down. "You are weak-that is the truth of all mankind. We each seek to grow, to become more than what we are, but your effort is lacking. You claim you will kill All Might-but without true strength, those are only empty words. Surrender, and I will let you live so that you might grow to carry their weight."

"You arrogant piece of shit..." A serpent whipping, bloodied and lashing-a pale palm grasped his blade, five fingers turning steel to rust, "you talk about real strength, but I only need one hand to kill you." A blade with no bite, teeth dulled and pulled-Mincemeat retreated, his interest piqued by the cold hatred that had consumed Shigaraki's infantile anger. He lurched aloft, one wrist dripping blood, teeth bared-perhaps not a rabid dog, but a hunter. "You must be pretty stupid to think I'm weak-as though I'd challenge All Might to a fair fight. I will be strong enough to turn the symbol of peace into dust, and I'll break him to pieces to do it. This whole fucking world, worshiping human garbage-I'll pull it all apart, piece by piece. And if you get in the way of that, I'll kill you, too."

...Interesting. "..Very well, Shigaraki. Come to Hosu, and prove to me your strength. If you have the means to do as you say.." Pale fingers twisting and twitching, a palm alive with no heart to beat for it-his will exerted, the open, bloodless stump of Shigaraki's severed hand closed over, whole anew in Mincemeat's possession. "Then I'll give this back to you." Shadows opening behind him, swirling darkness-business was concluded, and the real work could begin. "Show me that you are strong enough to carry the weight of your words.." Mincemeat sheathed his ruined blade, boring holes into the bloated, filmy eyes of Shigaraki, compelled to see what he might truly have to offer, "lest their gravity crush you beneath them."

Darkness, silence, familiarity-night was approaching, and there was work to be done.

Chapter 36

Chapter Text

It was kind of Gran Torino to offer him a bedroom of his own to stay in, furnished with an actual bed to sleep on. Technically it was more of a futon, but Izuku had expected to have to sleep on the battered couch on the ground floor, so having a fairly comfortable surface to curl up in the blanket he'd packed was something he wouldn't take for granted. The transition from his mother's home cooking to having to subsist entirely off of taiyaki was... slightly harder to get used to, but he wasn't going to make a fuss about it-the fact that Gran Torino was willing to feed him at all was more than enough.

And while the apartment building itself was old and creaky and made unsettling noises in the middle of the night that made him twitch under his blanket and filled him with the urge to use his phone's flashlight app to burn away the darkness, that wasn't the only thing that kept him from sleep. Normally, Izuku was out like a light only a few minutes after lying down-sleep had never been difficult to find. He theorized that it had something to do with the physical, mental, and emotional strain of his Quirk along with his exhausting levels of anxiety that let him simply pass out after dark.

But that night, he just... couldn't turn his brain off. Izuku sat huddled against the wall atop his futon, his pillow propped up behind him and his blanket strewn over his lap, unable to stop thinking. He'd distracted himself for a little while with his phone, texting back and forth with Kirishima and Uraraka in the group chat they'd set up. But it had gotten late much faster than he'd been ready for, and the absence of Iida made the whole thing feel uncomfortably hollow. Before long, he'd been left to mindlessly scroll back through their messages, his thoughts recirculating back to the same thing.

The wrong wire... Izuku raised his arm, dyed a ghostly white by the moonlight seeping through the window, and idly clenched his fingers. He could faintly see the tendons moving underneath his skin, the organic blues and purples of blood vessels a distant but obvious contrast against his skin. If he pressed against his arm, he could feel the bony knob of his wrist, trace the lines of his bones. His flesh, his muscle fibers, his winding blood vessels, his radius and ulna-they all held his arm together, winding and twisting and woven like a network of wires.

And Izuku had to find the right one. He'd been grasping blind for so long, his upset and his ignorance snagging handfuls at a time that lead to utter catastrophe. Tangled and bound and rubbed raw and bloody by the snares he unwittingly created, he'd been afraid of what he didn't understand. That fear still lived of course-he wouldn't ever be able to unknow his pain, both given and received. The entrance exam, the combat training, the USJ, the Sport's Festival-the villain-Izuku wouldn't ever be able to expunge his fear and regret.

So he had to make sure he never repeated it, right? Izuku traced his fingers along the inseam of his arm, his touch light enough to force a shiver down his spine. Every part of him was connected to Living Nightmare, whether he liked it or not. He wouldn't let it rule him again. But... Gran Torino had told him his Quirk needed to be second nature-a reflex, and a muscle. It didn't feel like one yet, and he certainly hadn't been treating it like one. Living Nightmare was a last resort, something he used only when he couldn't think of any other option. He treated it like a tool, pointing and directing it impersonally. He only used it at certain times, in certain places, with certain restrictions. He was terrified of hurting someone with it, of losing control, so he kept it under lock and key, and relieved himself of the pent up energy alone, as though it were something hideous and unwanted. So what if he...?

Living Nightmare came to life in his chest, but Izuku did not recoil. He did not yank, or clench, or push, or release. The hum of static buzzed unpleasantly at the back of his skull, but he did nothing to stop it. He relaxed his arm as much as he could, muscles lax and suspended above him. He reached inward for the thinnest wire he could visualize, but instead of pulling, he merely touched it, waiting for it to come to him. Like tar it crept outward from his chest, oozing through him. It was almost hypnotic, the sensuous, ponderous crawl of Living Nightmare, trickling in thick, inky pulses into his arm.

He could feel the warmth of the power, venting through his skin in tiny, delicate curls. It was an uncomfortable, feverish heat, but it was far from the scorching burnout of pushing himself too far. He followed its path with the fingers of his free hand, tracing the indomitable progress of his power. It was not a bloating of force, a horrible writhe and ache that pushed and bulged against his containing flesh with the gluttonous need to destroy-it filled him evenly, smooth and uniform.

Izuku raised his hand in a dreamy daze, static a heavy murmur instead of a shrill hiss, and twitched his fingers towards the ceiling. Living Nightmare oozed forth, an expression of will instead of a cartridge struck by a firing pin. The air itself boiled in slow, undulating waves a foot above his grasping fingers, the invisible sway of nebulaic heat death. There was no recoil, only a steady, humming force, something he had to press and shape to keep in containment. Fumes trailed off him in infinitesimal curls, accompanied by a steady burn that bordered the line between discomfort and pain. But Living Nightmare did not burst forth in a howling eruption, turning the ceiling to splinters and crashing the building down upon him. He was not subjected to whiplash, the wire tension 'SNAP' that left him weak, nauseous, insensate. Izuku Midoriya's power was an extension of himself.

A startled gasp slipped past his lips as he abruptly severed the connection, Living Nightmare going dormant in a flash of heat that left him sitting straight up in bed. Izuku grasped at his arm and stared in astonishment at his hand as his daze faded away, the ambient noise of midnight chasing away his static. The heat under his skin subsided back into the warm flush of blood, his fingers trembling not from discomfort or a loss of control, but from excitement. His Quirk-his Quirk-

There was no possible way he could sleep after that. Izuku nearly fell on his face in his haste to jump out of bed, fumbling to shed his pajamas and unlock his costume case. His thoughts were a whirlwind, a thousand threads of rotating exhilaration winding together into a tapestry of possibility. There was so much to figure out, to explore, to experiment with and record data for and-there was relief, too, an overwhelming flood of cool, placid solace that extinguished the smokey, suffocating burn of uncertainty. He'd illuminated the path he was meant to walk, and couldn't wait any longer to take his first step.

Izuku slipped into his jumpsuit, wrestling slightly with the fabric as his impatience made him clumsier than usual. He internally debated wearing his armor over the suit, before reaching the conclusion that he'd rather be safe than sorry if he put a little too much force behind his Quirk and broke something. He squeezed into his armor and tightened the straps so it was flush against his chest and back, fitted his elbow guards into place, and laced up his gloves, feeling a strange sense of wholeness that grew with every piece of his costume.

Eventually he was left with only his boots and mask, the former of which were much too loud to put on indoors, unless he wanted to immediately wake up Gran Torino and potentially get yelled at. Izuku stared down at the blank white canvas of his mask, biting his lip in thought for a moment before he finally caved to his whims and dug a pair of sharpies out of his case. He doodled a field of bright red and blue stars over the expanse of his mask, slipping out of one of his gloves just long enough to carefully smudge the edges of them, to give them the illusion of motion. He almost reached back to find darker reds and blues so he could shade them, but Izuku got the distinct feeling that he'd be there all night decorating his mask if he didn't stop himself.

With boots in hand (which quickly became both hands because wow they were heavy and Izuku could probably benefit from physical workouts outside of his heroics class) he crept out of his room, wincing as the floorboards creaked under his pastel rainbow socks. He swallowed his apprehension for the few heart stopping moments it took to peer into the crack of Gran Torino's door, some of the tension leaving him when he saw the retired pro was dead asleep. Getting lectured in the middle of the night would definitely kill his momentum.

Izuku rushed out of the apartment as quietly as he could manage, slipping on his boots once he was safely located on the front step. He'd tucked his phone into one of his not already filled pouches to keep track of the time, along with a bottle of juice he'd snagged from the fridge on his way out. Hopefully it'd be able to replace some essential sugars if he ended up throwing up again, and it was definitely more nutritious than the microwave pastries he'd had for dinner. Hopefully he wouldn't have to eat those for the whole week.

It was only once he was out on the lamp lit streets that anxiety began to creep its way back into him, piercing his confidence with winding tendrils. The junkyard from earlier was... probably not safe to walk to in the middle of the night, considering how run down that section of city was-it would be catastrophic if he was mugged or something while he still had a tenuous grasp of his Quirk, and it'd probably reflect badly on Gran Torino if he was injured on his internship. But where else could he practice?

Izuku paced a little down the sidewalk in front of Gran Torino's apartment, his boots clomping loudly and echoing down the empty street. He just needed somewhere isolated, where he didn't have to worry too much about collateral damage or being spotted by whomever was still out so late at night. Izuku gravitated towards one of the towering, narrow alleyways that split the buildings apart into separate entities, biting his lip as he stared into the dimly lit depths. It was a little cramped, and a lot crammed with old garbage bags-not exactly an ideal location, but he couldn't afford to wander the city at night without Gran Torino's explicit permission. He staunchly sidestepped the fact that he was already guilty of that, and crept into the alleyway. It was right next to Gran Torino's building, so it wasn't a big deal, right?

The interior was less awful than he'd expected, the scent of garbage stale and stifling but far from putrid. Or maybe he'd just ruined his sense of smell by spending so much time around junkyards. Was there some kind of weird connection to be made between his Quirk and junkyards, or was it just coincidental? Either way, there was probably a better time to ponder that. For the moment, Izuku had to focus on his next step.

He shuffled past the garbage piled on either side of the alley, picking his way through until he was deep enough that the street lights no longer illuminated him. The cold light of the moon trickled down in slivers so that he could at least see his own hands and the brick walls on either side of him. Izuku sucked in a deep breath, holding one hand in front of him, fingers loosely curled, and reached inward for the thinnest wire of Living Nightmare. It thrummed as he brought it to life, a smooth surge of power that pulled a gasp from his lips.

He couldn't say it was a pleasant experience by any means, but it was... interesting, fascinating, and didn't bring him any pain aside from negligible discomfort. He eased the power into his fingertips, releasing it in a controlled flow that turned the air into a molten kaleidoscope. It was almost mesmerizing how the air folded and shifted over itself, destroyed molecules creating vacuums that collapsed nigh-instantaneously. At least, that was his closest understanding of the phenomena. He didn't really have the necessary laboratory equipment to study the science behind his Quirk, and probably wouldn't know where to start even if he did.

Izuku slowly dragged his hand through the air, leaving a brief trail of power that managed to last for roughly half a hand length before the air restored the lost volume. It was certainly a difference from his massive, instantaneous distance bursts, which was a good sign, but he wasn't sure how to make it useful. Izuku briefly eyed the brick wall on his side, before immediately tossing the impulse aside-he didn't want to cause any property damage. But maybe if he...

Izuku sifted carefully through the trash bags littering the alleyway, searching for one that would cause the least mess possible if he blew it up. As he'd thought, none of them contained food waste, but old furniture and styrofoam were definitely a bad idea to burn, or tear apart into a million pieces that he'd inevitably pick up by hand because littering was wrong. He brightened at the sight of a bag filled with old cardboard, which both didn't emit toxic gasses when it burned and would be easy enough to pick up if it broke into pieces.

He hefted the bag off the ground, tossing it up a little to get a feel for its weight, and practiced his breathing exercises to calm the rapid pounding of his heart. If-if he could manage to find a way to use his power more effectively, a way to fight without seriously hurting someone, then it'd all be worth it. All his pain, his struggling, his crippling loneliness-they wouldn't have been in vain.

Izuku sucked in a deep breath and held it, tossing the bag at a slight arc so that it would go above him without being directly over his head, and thrust out his arm with the intention to not break the bag. His breath released in the same moment Living Nightmare did, a smooth transition through his arm that left him more forcefully than before, but with significantly less impact and recoil than with his previous, debilitating attacks. He struck the garbage bag slightly below dead center, the force ripping open plastic in a wide tear and pulverizing the cardboard beneath it in a narrow swathe, punching a hole clean through to the other side. It flew forward with roughly the same force as if he had thrown it at full strength, spilling bits of burning cardboard and flecks of boiling plastic in its wake.

It hit the ground with a 'thump', and Izuku tentatively lowered his arm, fumes curling in thick, lazy spirals. He experimentally flexed his fingers, which twinged slightly, but retained full connection to his nervous system. He felt a few prickles of nausea, the sort of thing he'd feel from tasting something unpleasant, along with a feverish heat under his skin, but it wasn't even close to as bad as before. Even with that improvement, something still felt wrong. Izuku frowned down at his arm, which bled the last few traces of fumes into the air, where they dissipated harmlessly.

Was he still wasting energy with his attacks? Was there a way he could minimize his venting, make his side effects negligible, increase the effectiveness of his Quirk? ...Would it still hurt someone? Izuku glanced down at his hand, flexing his fingers. ...There was only one way he could find out, right? There was only one way to be sure he wouldn't hurt someone else.

Izuku raised his opposite arm, unlacing his glove and hanging it off his belt before he rolled up the sleeve of his jumpsuit. He stared blankly at his own unblemished skin, his pounding heart echoed by pulses of static. Plastic bags and old cardboard weren't as durable as human skin, and he wouldn't even fire a burst-it'd just be for a split second, just calling it to his hand. It-it was better to know in a controlled test, than to find out because he'd hurt someone permanently. He had his phone, and Gran Torino was in the next building over. Izuku couldn't afford not to know.

Living Nightmare spilled into his right arm, his left trembling where he held it in the air. The power streamed from his twitching fingertips, melting the air in a display that sent alarms blaring through his head. Of course it was a bad idea, of course it was, but-he couldn't leave it up to chance. Izuku had to know, had to be sure for once in his life.

Before he could overthink it any further, Izuku sucked in a breath and clenched his teeth, jamming his right hand forward to brush the very edge of his active Quirk against his bare arm. For a split second, there was nothing-and then pain, the heat that lived under his skin come to life and spreading across his arm like molten lava it was hot so hot it hurt it hurt-

Izuku ripped his hand away with a pained cry that he struggled to muffle, severing his connection to Living Nightmare and pulling his left arm against his chest, the pain transitioning from a white hot inferno to a heavy, throbbing sting that seemed to mimic the beat of his pulse. "F-fuck," he whimpered through clenched teeth, tears trickling down his face as he struggled to figure out what to do with his injury, he couldn't grab it and he didn't have anything on hand to relieve the pain-wait, he had burn cream, didn't he?

Fumbling with his pouches with one hand, Izuku shakily stepped through the alleyway until he could hold his arm out in the light of the nearby street lamp and get a good view of the damage. At the very least, he hadn't managed to break the skin-an amorphous blob of angry red marked the side of his forearm, throbbing and stinging and itching so intently that it was maddening. It looked like only a bad first degree burn-and felt like one too, as the pain ramped up in intensity and the pulses shortened in duration but grew closer together.

Retrieving the burn ointment from one of his pouches, Izuku left it hanging open as he brought it to his mouth and twisted the cap off with his teeth. It clattered to the ground a moment later, but-he'd just pick it up after he was done. It was fine. He hissed at the flare of pain when he moved his arm to hold the tube, squeezing some out onto the fingers of his right hand so that he could properly apply it. When he looked closely enough to begin rubbing it on his wound, he noticed that the edges were marked with a thin outline of translucent dead skin, and the burned flesh itself was uneven. He treated the burn with ointment slathered fingers, applying quick, even layers over the rough, bumpy skin. It stung even worse than the moment he'd burned it, and Izuku swallowed back a whine of pain.

He blinked through the film of tears impeding his vision, reaching down in halting motions to find the cap for the ointment and put it away, staring at the oily surface of his burn. It'd probably heal up okay, but the pain would persist for several hours at the very least. The sight of raw, inflamed skin dug a pit of nausea in his stomach, and opened the path for regret to spill into his chest. What a stupid thing to do-what had he been thinking? He was such an idiot, experimenting with his dangerous Quirk without supervision, and on himself. Of course it would hurt-what would he have done if it just burned a hole straight through his arm? Gran Torino would have had to call the school, call an ambulance, he would have to leave his internship, he'd probably be put on-suicide watch, or something, be taken out of U.A., have his Quirk monitored by specialists that'd keep him trapped like an animal-

Izuku ripped off his mask and muffled a wheezing, high pitched sob with his uninjured forearm, struggling to mop up tears with his jumpsuit sleeve. Stupid, stupid, stupid-that ugly word struck against the back of his skull like an ice pick, a piercing force that made him want to just curl up and cry. His legs trembled so violently that he was forced to sit, practically falling into the bags of garbage so that he could press his sleeve over his mouth and bawl, a dark, nebulous cloud of depressive thoughts engulfing his head. He was so unbelievably stupid, such a disappointment-he'd crossed the line between self sacrifice and self destruction, hurt himself deliberately, he was such a waste, wasting Mr. Torino's time, time he was supposed to use to train instead of injuring himself like an idiot.

He'd hurt himself again with his Quirk, he'd done the exact thing Kirishima had pleaded with him not to do-he had made Kirishima cry because he was such a reckless screw-up, and then he just-just-Izuku choked on another sob, tears streaming endlessly down his face. It felt like his chest had collapsed into a black hole, pulling and twisting and crushing everything around it, the pain so acute that he could barely breathe through his outpouring of misery and self loathing. So useless, so useless-he just wanted to curl up somewhere and disappear. At least then he wouldn't be around to screw things up.

Izuku wasn't quite sure how long his crying fit lasted-he wasn't in much a state of mind to pay attention to the passing of time. It might have been only minutes, but it felt like hours that had slipped away from him, lost in the dark shroud of anguish that deadened his ability to perceive anything else. It was only once he'd run out of tears and the searing pain in his chest had hardened into a cold, numbed lump that he was able to stand on trembling legs and scoop his discarded mask off the ground. The stars he'd doodled earlier were nothing more than red and blue smears, marred by his own hand.

Izuku dragged his feet through the bags of garbage, reaching down to pat through his pouches in search of a bandage, or some gauze-something he could use to cover his stinging burn. It took a few moments of halfhearted effort, but he eventually found an adhesive pad large enough to cover his burn, and slapped it on with more force than was necessary. The wound twinged in pain, but part of him felt like he deserved it-he was stupid enough to cause it, after all, so he had to accept the consequences.

Just like he had to accept the consequences of staying awake all night. The sky had brightened into a deep blue-grey, a clear sign of the impending dawn. What a waste-he was wasting Mr. Torino's time, exhausting himself by foregoing sleep to fool around with a Quirk he hardly understood, and now he'd barely be awake for their training. Rather than tears, the thought brought only a cold, prickling resignation, the only thing that managed to thrive within his numb emptiness.

It reminded him of how he'd felt after the combat training, staring down the scar that would mark his face forever in the bathroom mirror, denial slipping down the drain along with his tears. But it was different-there was no mistake involved, no extenuating circumstances, no outside factors, no possible excuse for his burn. It made him feel shameful, struggling to pull his sleeve over the evidence and lace his glove back up. Maybe that was a good thing-he should feel ashamed of himself. Izuku hung his mask off a loop on his belt, reaching up under his visor to scrub at his eyes and hopefully wipe away the dried tear tracks. Maybe Gran Torino wouldn't even notice.

Stewing with resignation and regret, Izuku plodded down the sidewalk back to Gran Torino's building, his shoulders hunched defensively and his posture creaking with defeated weight. He slipped through the front gate, boots clacking like death knells on his way up the front steps. Izuku bowed his head, creaking open the front door with a fumbling hand, and slunk inside, bearing only a shadow of his former spirit, with dawn light burning behind him.

Chapter 37

Chapter Text

"Jeez, kid-you look terrible. How'd you manage that?" Gran Torino's greeting echoed slightly down the stairway, the genial tone achieving the opposite of its intent. Izuku flinched where he stood, looking lost and exhausted in the foyer. He wasn't quite sure how Gran Torino could tell how awful his state was-maybe it was his posture, or maybe his eyes were still puffy. He couldn't bring himself to care enough to ponder it any further. His temporary teacher hobbled down the steps, looking as rickety and fragile as Izuku knew he wasn't. He wasn't sure why Gran Torino kept up the facade when he'd already broken it. Only... wasn't he guilty of that, too? Pretending to be fine after falling apart and coming undone countless times.. did that make him a liar?

"Eyes up kid, I asked you a question."

Izuku flinched hard, a holdover from the days when Kacchan would greet him with bruises and burns freely given. He refocused in time to see Gran Torino's eyes narrow in suspicion, and felt some of his energy return in a sicking pulse of panic. "A-ah-I'm so-orry, sir, I ju-just-I w-wanted to p-practice, w-with my Quirk, and-and I guess I sta-stayed out later t-than I meant t-to." It was hardly convincing; Izuku had always been a terrible liar, his jumping voice and cracking syllables easily giving him away. Perhaps he'd only been able to keep Living Nightmare a secret for so long because nobody would have even believed it was true.

"Should'a been resting, so you'd be ready for today. You'd better be prepared." Gran Torino wasn't unkind, but he was certainly stern, clear in his expectations (that Izuku had already failed to meet). Izuku opened his mouth to say 'yes sir, sorry sir' and hopefully brush it all aside, but Gran Torino beat him to the punch. "And it doesn't explain why you look like you got run over." The retired pro's lips twisted a little in thought, his gaze so intense that Izuku squirmed on the spot, overcome with the sensation of being peeled apart. "Maybe more like your dog got run over."

Of course Gran Torino would see right through him-was he really dumb enough to think he could trick a man that had already proven himself to be extremely insightful and observant? Should he just keep denying and deflecting, or would that make things worse? Izuku couldn't be sure-if it were All Might or Mr. Aizawa, he'd definitely be better off confessing. Sure, he'd be scolded (especially in Mr. Aizawa's case), but his teachers were understanding, and they'd be able to help him. He just-he didn't know Gran Torino well enough yet; the last thing Izuku wanted was to make him angry.

Before he had a chance to make up his mind Gran Torino sniffed audibly, his forehead wrinkling with concentration and eyes narrowing in suspicion. "You smell like the inside of a first aid kit, too. What the heck happened?"

Well, that made things a little easier, in that he at least had no choice in which bullet he bit. "I-I, uh-uhm-" It was better that he just got it out, right? Lying wouldn't help him. He just had to say it. Izuku struggled to squeeze words through the twisted column of barbed wire that clogged his esophagus, his gaze locked unwaveringly between the tips of his boots. "..I-I figured out, h-how to, uhm... u-use my Quirk m-more effectively. To-regulate the o-output of power. So I w-went out to p-practice, and, while I w-was figuring it out, I-I.. I wanted to know if it w-was-safe, to..."

Izuku squeezed his eyes shut for a moment, as he was assaulted with pulsing, organic images of Living Nightmare's potential-tar black flesh detonated into vapor, sickly red muscle pulsing and regenerating and spilling blood down slick white bone-and took a deep, shaky breath. "I-I had to know if it w-was safe to fight with. S-so I... tested it, on-on myself. I kn-know it was stupid, I-I jus-just wasn't thinking st-straight, I s-should have-waited, a-and talked to you a-about it. I-I'm sorry for w-wasting your t-time, Mr. Torino." Izuku fell into a rigid bow, holding his left arm at a stiff angle and trembling against the onslaught of his destabilized breathing.

"...How badly did you hurt yourself?" Unable to see Gran Torino's expression, Izuku was only able to read his voice for any tells, but came up practically empty. He didn't sound angry, or accusatory, or even disappointed-there was an unrecognizable edge to his words, but they were painfully gruff and neutral besides.

"J-just a first d-degree burn, s-sir. O-on my arm. I a-already p-put burn cream a-and a bandage on it." The silence dragged on long enough that Izuku's back was starting to get sore, and he lessened the harsh angle of his bow just enough to take a bit of the pressure off. A sudden laugh startled him enough that he cocked his head up in confusion, only to be met with a gloved hand thunking him on the head.

"Is that all? Jeez kid, you had me goin' for a minute there! I thought you lost a toe or somethin'." Gran Torino wore a genial grin, but the sharpness of his gaze hadn't dulled into his 'doddering old man' persona. Izuku opened his mouth to express even a fraction of his confusion, and yelped when Gran Torino tweaked his nose. "Quit yer' bowin', this is nothin' to make a big production about."

Izuku shot upright and covered his twinging nose with his uninjured hand, his remorse eased aside for the moment by bewilderment. "S-sir?"

"You're actin' like I'd cut your head off for a single misstep. Sure, what you did was pretty darn stupid, but you know not to do it again, right?" After a moment where Gran Torino's gaze suddenly narrowed, Izuku realized it wasn't a rhetorical question and nodded so hard it made him dizzy. "And you understand what you should have done instead?" Izuku nodded again, gently enough that his eyeballs might find their way back into the proper sockets. "Then I don't see any reason to waste our time by lecturing you. We've only got a week, and we gotta make the most of it."

Izuku sagged in place, his shoulders slumped as all his tension drained out in a sudden torrent. He sucked in a breath to heave a long sigh- "Besides," Gran Torino continued, a devious smirk curling on his lips, "I think a whole day of training on no sleep is punishment enough." Izuku nearly choked on his own breath, resignation rearing its head to nest alongside his relief. He hadn't expected to get off scot-free, but the reality of operating on no sleep was still a bit disheartening.

"Now, show me what you've figured out. You said you found a way to regulate your Quirk, right?" Gran Torino thumped across the hardwood floor, his unnecessary cane clacking loudly. He scratched a hand through his hair (which was a lot fuller than Izuku had expected of a man his age) and gestured widely with his cane. "I'm sure you wouldn't be telling me this if you didn't have enough control to practice inside, but try and stay away from the furniture."

"R-right, yes sir." Izuku hurried over to a more open spot of the living room, skirting around to give the couch a wide berth. He took a deep breath to try and center himself, reaching inward with slow, cautious feelers to sift through the network of wires that connected every inch of him to Living Nightmare. It was no wonder he'd never been able to find the thinnest before, when he'd had no idea of what to look for; were it to be physically represented, his thinnest wire would be fine as spider's silk, and sharp enough to split skin like tissue paper. But if he was delicate and careful, reaching out with the intent to merely strum instead of tug-

Living Nightmare was roused by the harmonic vibration, spilling into his right arm with something almost approaching fluidity. Izuku gasped when the connection stabilized, tiny curls drifting from his skin as the air inches from his fingertips began to waver and writhe. Removed from the heady excitement of achievement and the cosmic glow of pale moonlight, his power was... unsettling. The silent thrum of destruction resulted in a nearly invisible force, capable of searing straight through human flesh. Something about it still echoed his lingering terror, faint fingers of the fear that had strangled him with both hands. Despite his progress, it just.. didn't feel right.

"Still got that smoke, huh?" Gran Torino's voice startled Izuku out of his internal musings, and he glanced over only to squawk in alarm when a gloved hand brazenly wrapped around his forearm. For a moment, it was almost as if Living Nightmare had bucked, straining to explode outwards and voraciously engulf the outside force that dared to act upon it-but nothing happened. Izuku's connection was steady save for a single startled moment, though he tensed up regardless. "Heatin' up pretty fast too," Gran Torino continued, his eyes narrowed in thought. "How's it feel? Any side effects?"

"Y-yeah, b-but they aren't as i-immediately severe. It'd p-probably take longer for them to build up." Izuku took a moment to concentrate, and extended the spherical pocket of collapsing molecules a few inches higher. He could feel the heat in his arm that Gran Torino had mentioned; was it just inevitable that his Quirk had to burn off excess power, or was he still doing something wrong? "I-it still feels... wrong, somehow. L-like I'm still not d-doing it right." Izuku stared into his suspended handful of destruction for a moment as Gran Torino released his grip, before severing the connection with a sigh.

Gran Torino hummed in thought, his expression more pinched than Izuku had seen it yet. An illogical part of him felt guilty for the complexity and mystery of his Quirk-maybe if he'd gotten properly assessed at a young age instead of hiding it for so long, everything would have worked out better. He wouldn't be skewered with regrets, or struggling to understand the thing that had ruled his life for so long if he'd just been brave enough. But it was a waste to keep agonizing over mistakes that he'd already made, right? He had to learn from them, and move forward, but that was a lot harder to do than it sounded.

After a long moment of silence, Gran Torino's expression suddenly relaxed, and the deep thought clouding his eyes suddenly gave way for a shrewd glint. "The smoke and heat comin' from your arm is a result of venting excess power, right?" Izuku blinked and stared, before nodding hesitantly. Was Gran Torino trying to lead him to a revelation again? "And the problem you had before was that you couldn't regulate your output; it was too much all at once, right?" He hesitated a second longer before nodding, the gears in his head steadily clicking together. If he'd already solved his output problem-

"Then what excess is left to be vented?" Gran Torino's words echoed almost one to one with Izuku's own realization, his eyes widening as it rushed through him in a fizzing torrent. The retired pro smirked as he met Izuku's starry eyed gaze. "Something's holding you back kid, and I don't think it's your Quirk anymore. You're worried about hurting others, isn't that right? You're cautious, hesitant-that's why you burned yourself, after all. You wanted to be sure it was safe, but the truth of being a hero is that no Quirk is ever really safe. If you wanna survive against a villain in a fight, or rescue civilians from a disaster, you can't afford to hold back and worry. You're a U.A. student, ain't ya? Where's that Plus Ultra spirit, then?! You've gotta prove that you've got the mettle to go beyond, kid!"

Izuku was consumed by the light of revelation, his legs trembling under him as his vision tunneled in to rest solely on the palm of his hand. Gran Torino was right, wasn't he? He was still afraid of Living Nightmare, still afraid of hurting others, of going too far, of losing control-but he couldn't afford to be. All of his classmates, all of his friends pushed themselves to improve, to strengthen their minds and bodies, to increase the power of their Quirks, to find new applications, to overcome their weaknesses, and all Izuku had ever done was limit himself. How could he have ever expected to become a hero like that? His only choice was to hone himself, to hone Living Nightmare into a force meant to save others. He couldn't be afraid anymore.

Izuku thrust his right hand through the air and plucked his thinnest wire without hesitation, the power of Living Nightmare rushing to erupt through his arm. He didn't pull back, didn't wait for his power to even out, or carefully meter out how much actually escaped. Instead, Izuku simply let go. The air in front of him snapped like it was suddenly filled with fireworks, a loud 'crackackack' of super-heated molecules erupting in white sparks. It was a far cry from the nebulaic boiling glass of his slow and hesitant channeling, a flashy expression of destruction that felt almost alive. He still had control, could still manipulate his output and sever the connection whenever he wished. He could feel the heat escaping through his fingers instead of from his arm, his fumes either so negligible they were impossible to see or-or gone altogether. It felt powerful, but not overwhelmingly so-it wouldn't turn villains into meat puree, or melt straight through them. It felt..it felt-

Lit by the chaotic white eruptions that bloomed from his palm, in possession of a Quirk that felt right to use, Izuku nearly burst into tears. He'd conquered his Quirk, he'd overcome Living Nightmare and found a power that would help him save others. It wasn't his final step, of course; there was so much more he had to learn, so much more he had to do. But it was so important, because-he'd finally found his way. He'd proven that he could use his Quirk, and the path beyond had been revealed. Izuku finally had the ability to find his light-to find a hero's light.

"Hm. Good to see you had it in you after all." Gran Torino pulled Izuku's focus away from his Quirk, the light show fizzling out as the retired pro smirked, something almost proud lingering in the flash of his teeth. "Let's see how well it holds up in a fight, shall we?"

Really, it shouldn't have been so surprising how quickly his confidence crumbled into nothing, considering how often it happened. But regardless, the sudden liquefaction of his insides and subsequent pooling of organ fluid in his feet made him feel slightly ill, and Izuku quickly attempted to dial things back a few notches.

"U-uhm, a-actually, I... I was h-hoping you could h-help me with applying my Q-Quirk more practically? I-um, I-mobility, t-that's-I need to relearn how to use it t-to be more mobile! B-before, I could... s-sort of launch myself, b-but since it was so debilitating it doesn't s-seem very practical to keep d-doing it that way. And I t-thought that, s-since your Quirk is so mobility based, m-maybe you could... g-give me some pointers?" Izuku resisted the urge to cringe at how messily his word vomit had spilled forth, but it was something that had to be said. Fighting Gran Torino right away was... a little daunting, considering he'd only just figured things out. Learning practical applications before fighting techniques made more sense too, right?

Gran Torino's challenging smirk softened with amusement, and Izuku only realized he'd been tensed for a fight as he watched him relax. "If that 'mobility' you're talkin' about looks anything like the travesty at the Sport's Festival, then you're right-using that method is a bad idea. One good jump isn't worth hobbling around with a broken leg afterwards."

Gran Torino suddenly about faced, turning to wander off in... the opposite direction of the front door. "But before that, let's have some breakfast! I've got a real cravin' for some taiyaki right about now!" His gleeful chuckles made Izuku's shoulders sag with relief (and a touch of disappointment), and he dutifully followed behind his temporary mentor. Maybe taiyaki wouldn't be so overbearingly sweet the second time around?
--
There was something so much worse about containing his anger instead of acting upon it. It was almost a physical pain, to bolt down straining boiler plates so they might contain the meltdown, keep it from erupting if only for a few moments longer. To be filled with super heated nitrous, blue flames sparking and sputtering because he throttled the engines and locked the tires in place was an agony unlike simply letting go, being driven by rage and finally, finally being allowed to explode.

Tenya wasn't sure how much longer he could take it. It was a struggle to speak in an even tone when Manual prompted him, a struggle to walk sedately instead of activating his Quirk in a burst of white hot pistons and steaming hot exhaust. It was a surreal nightmare to inhabit quiet places, Manual's hero agency a homey office so unlike the sleeker, less organic agency his family ran. Potted flowers on desks, framed photographs of loved ones, the quiet, harmless clutter of a location that had been worn in by frequent life-it made him want to scream.

It was ugly, the grimy, oil slick urge to upend the maddening peace he was surrounded with, to unload his internalized pain into a physical space. He didn't want to make things worse for himself, as expressing his anger so poisonously would surely do, but he could feel the steady tick of clock hands echo in his bones, gears turning and turning as that man, that man still walked the streets he'd spilled blood on.

Tenya nodded absently as Manual said... something, pulling off his helmet and exposing his face to open air once more. He'd made every excuse possible to keep it on at all possible opportunities. It made him feel.. less human, in a way he'd never once considered could be comforting. Wrapping himself in steel and armor, skin hidden away underneath gleaming plates and face hidden behind a laser cut mask-it took some of the edge off his hurt. He could cease being Tenya Iida, at least in some small way. His costume made him a symbol of justice, and a symbol couldn't feel pain.

It was almost sickening to think, but.. perhaps that man felt similarly. Tensei had told him some of what he'd seen, still weak and half coherent from pain medications. Perhaps that terrible man felt less human too, when he hid his face and doused himself in blood. Perhaps it was the only thing that could give him the peace needed to stalk the streets, ruining and stealing lives so callously.

Sometimes it felt hopeless, chasing after what could barely even amount to a lead in search of a villain whom he knew not even the name of. The Hero Killer had wanted everyone to know who he was-but his killer was not so obvious. Maybe coming to Hosu was hopeless, in the end. Maybe he'd find nothing at all. But if there was even a chance-

If there was even a chance, Tenya would take it. He would find the man in the iron mask, and would unmake him with his own two hands.
--
Izuku groaned and rolled over onto his side, sweat sliding down the back of his neck and combining with the dust that had caught in his hair to make it gritty and dark. He blinked blearily up at the sun soaked sky, afternoon light painting it a bright orange that was tinted pink by his visor. "What's wrong, kid? Are you gonna come up here or not? I don't have all day!" Gran Torino's voice echoed across the sun baked junkyard, one of many taunts he'd rained down on Izuku from the precarious stack of cars he was perched atop. Ever since he'd figured out his Quirk, Gran Torino had been running him ragged with mobility drills, and climbing up the vehicle tower was only the latest. In normal circumstances it might have been feasible, but the catch was that Izuku had to make it up using his Quirk, and without grabbing anything. Countless shoe-tip sized holes marked dusty hoods and sagging bumpers from his failed attempts to make it up.

Figuring out how to use the newest facet of his Quirk for mobility hadn't been quite as difficult as he'd been expecting; channeling through his legs worked fairly similarly to his arms (though slightly less precisely), and using his previous method of propulsion on a smaller scale had been mostly effective. Gran Torino had helped him figure out a technique to essentially 'cushion' himself on pockets of air by destroying the molecules, creating bursts of force that provide enough lift to stabilize him in the air. It was lucky that his boots were so durable, because he was fairly sure if he'd tried it with regular shoes, they'd have melted from the abundance of sparks.

He hadn't been able to achieve anything more than a single jump (somewhere between fifteen and eighteen feet high at his 'maximum' output) and some mid-air flailing without an actual foothold, but his cushioning technique worked well for landing without hurting himself. Of course, having footholds was also a double edged sword, because if he wasn't careful his Quirk would burn right through them and send him falling, which was the problem he'd encountered with the cars. Figuring out the timing to jump up the sides of buildings was decently doable-having dozens of fragile footholds just barely big enough to fit a single foot that required pinpoint timing was slightly more challenging.

Izuku groaned and rolled over when Gran Torino called down to him again, smearing the front of his mask with dust that probably wasn't safe to breathe when he really thought about it. "C-can we take a b-break, Mr. Torino?!" His voice wobbled its way up to the top of the car pile almost as precariously as Izuku himself had, and moments later he heard the sharp rush of air that accompanied the use of Gran Torino's Quirk.

"Guess we've been at it a couple hours now, huh? Sure, we can shelve this until tomorrow." Izuku huffed out a sigh of relief, which quickly became a startled squeak when one of Gran Torino's boots lightly cuffed the side of his head. "But don't think that means training is over, ya slacker! We'll head back to eat and clean up, and then we're goin' on patrol to find some villains to fight."

Izuku sputtered and lurched up from the ground, scrambling to get his legs underneath him. "W-wait, f-fi-fighting v-villains? Already?! S-shouldn't we-you k-know, work on fun-fundamentals a little b-bit longer first?" Izuku's blood felt cold and sluggish at the thought of fighting actual villains again. The USJ had been horrifying, and thoughts of the events that had transpired still visited him when it was quiet and dark, and he had nothing to distract himself from them. Ms. Atsuko could only help him so much-trauma wasn't something he could expect her to fix for him. And in his completely unqualified and absolutely biased opinion, fighting more villains was a pretty poor recovery plan.

"If I had more time to train ya', I'd say you have a point, but we've got half a week and a lotta ground to cover." Gran Torino marched off towards the entrance of the junkyard, and Izuku scrambled to keep pace with him. "Besides, there's nothing better to prepare you than some on the job experience. I know you fought villains at the USJ, and we'll be huntin' for small fry, so you shouldn't have any problems."

Izuku bit his lip under his mask and stifled the urge to protest further; Gran Torino was the teacher with decades of experience under his belt, and if he thought it was best to go out and patrol for villains, than Izuku would defer to his instruction. The possibility of having to fight still made him feel queasy, but he pushed past the discomfort as best he could. At the very least, he'd get a break from nearly falling on his face over and over again.

And maybe he'd finally be able to get in contact with Iida again. Izuku had been trying to put it out of his mind, considering there wasn't much he could do, but the radio silence from Iida was still worrying. The three messages he'd sent since their internship began remained unanswered, and he was hesitant to send more for the fear that he'd push too much-would it be overbearing of him, to keep asking after Iida when he wasn't responding? Did his friend just need time to come to terms with things? Emotional boundaries were so different from physical ones; it wasn't as simple as merely asking outright what was or wasn't okay.

Izuku glanced up at the sun smeared horizon, cut into rectangular teeth by the silhouettes of towering buildings, and frowned behind his unmarked mask. He couldn't know for sure what to do, or what to say. He could only hope that by the end of their internships, everything would work out okay.
--
The bullet train to Shibuya was a much longer ride than Izuku was used to, in comparison to the train he took every day to U.A. The sun had already been submerged beneath the horizon, giving way for countless street lamps and adverts to compete against the full moon. The seats they'd purchased would have been fairly comfortable under normal circumstances, but the addition of his bulky costume made it a lot more cramped and awkward than he would have liked. At the very least, Gran Torino didn't take up much room beside him, and there was no threat of fumbling to conjure small talk.

But still, as they passed along the outskirts of Hosu, something just felt...

Izuku shook away the unease that cluttered his head like cobwebs, attempting to refocus. "A-are you sure it's okay f-for us to get there so late? We pr-probably won't get back until m-morning." The idea of training after another sleepless night seemed... less than ideal.

Gran Torino spared him half a glance, his loose posture and easy expression suggesting he was back to playing up his facade. Maybe because they were in public? "Eh? Sure, sure, it'll be fine. I sure don't mind sleeping in for once! Besides, the streets will be chock full of villains late at night! I'm sure we'll find more than a few to fight!"

Izuku blanched and laughed nervously, hunching over a little in his seat. "O-oh. Th-that's... good." He pulled out his phone in an effort to distract himself, flicking past his lock screen with the intent of parsing through his evening news feed for anything interesting. But like magnets, his thumbs were drawn to his contacts, his chest clenching a little when he saw that Iida still hadn't responded to him. Maybe he was just super busy? Hosu had a much higher population density than Gran Torino's district, and Iida was working at an actual agency instead of being run ragged by an eccentric old man. He was probably just taking things super seriously, and getting caught up in his internship. It made perfect sense.

"Whoa, did you see that? A building just exploded!"

"What's all the commotion about?" Gran Torino questioned, leaning over the arm of his chair.

Izuku's mouth went dry. Faintly, he could hear other exclamation from the opposite side of the train, their language horrific but their tones distant and detached. He sat up in his seat, twisting to try and see outside the far windows. Surely, surely it couldn't be what he thought it was-

["All passengers, please remain seated for this unscheduled stop."]

The sudden application of squealing breaks nearly threw Izuku out of his seat entirely, and he fumbled to use the seat in front of him as a handhold. Okay, okay so maybe there was an attack and he was completely right about something horrible happening, but at least they were on the train above it all-

In an ear splitting screech of twisted metal, the side of the train was wrenched open from the outside to send the whole compartment rocking back on the rails. Empty seats were tossed aside by the force of the violent entry, clearing enough space for a dazed pro hero in a white fur coat to fail to rise to his feet, his groan lost amidst screams of panic.

The newly made opening gave way to the force that had created it, metal crumpling like tinfoil to reveal sickly green flesh, glazed, rolling eyeballs, and a cranium of exposed gray matter. It bellowed out a gurgling screech, slamming the injured pro to the floor with a spidery palm. There was no mistaking what it was, the only other creature he'd ever seen that looked even remotely similar was-

"N-Noumu!" Izuku's cry blended seamlessly with the uproar from the other passengers, but before he could even push past the thunderous swelling of fear lodged in his chest to do something, Gran Torino had already launched himself from his seat in a burst of air pressure, planting a heavy sole in the creature's slack, drooling face. The hit was enough to stagger it, its spindly fingered grasp leaving the prone hero.

Before it could move again, Gran Torino ricocheted off its head, twisting through the air to land soles first on the overhead compartment on the opposite side of the train. "Stay put, kid!" His words left him in a gruff yell, half a moment before he launched himself towards the Noumu, his momentum carrying it clean off the side of the train.

"G-Gran Torino!" Izuku lurched out into the aisle, his nerves pulled wire tight as he heard the impact against the monorail's dividing wall, skidding to a stop in front of the hole just in time to witness pulverized concrete, and the rapidly disappearing figures of Gran Torino and the Noumu. He stalled just at the edge, his gloved palm pressed against the lip of bent metal, and struggled to think of what to do. Gran Torino had told him to stay in the train, but-but he couldn't just do nothing. That Noumu... if there were more of them, if it was anything like the one he'd fought at the USJ, then he couldn't afford to do nothing.

Deaf to the cries of one of the train's employees pleading for him to stay put, Izuku hauled himself out of the side of the train, landing with a thud of metal soles on the tracks below. The night air spilling in from the breach Gran Torino had created stank of acrid smoke, and he could only imagine the havoc being wreaked in Hosu. It was terrifying-of course it was-but Izuku wasn't shackled by his Quirk anymore. He had the power to make a difference.

Izuku sucked in a breath as he revved up for a running start, his boots a thundering accompaniment to the deafening pulse of blood in his ears. Living Nightmare spilled from his core at the behest of a single strummed wire, and Izuku leaped off the side of the monorail in a shower of bursting white sparks.
--
It was almost dreamlike, the way carefully constructed order could be so quickly unmade by agents of destruction. Tenya had been in the heart of Hosu, shadowing Manual's patrol when disaster had struck. In what felt like only seconds, buildings had gone up in flames and waves of civilians had flooded the streets in an effort to outrun the creeping chaos. For a moment he'd forgotten his anger, swept up in a haze of orange flames and black smoke, stunned by screams echoing off concrete. His costume was stifling from the heat of the fires a few blocks over, sweat beading underneath to heighten his discomfort. Whatever he'd been expecting from his time in Hosu, it hadn't been such widespread pandemonium.

But the moment passed swiftly, and Tenya was once more ironclad in his determination. The disaster at hand-was it the work of the man in the iron mask? It seemed impossible for one man to cause such havoc alone, and Tensei's recounting of him didn't paint him as the type to revel in wanton violence. He couldn't be sure just yet, and it would be a waste to lose his head until he could know for certain. He could wait a little while longer.

The relative emptiness of the street he and Manual had taken was disarming, flashing billboards playing advertisements for an absent audience. He could hear distant screams and wailing sirens, and see patches of sky swallowed by smoke between the cutting architecture of skyscrapers. It was an unsettling reminder of how transient the moment of peace really was.

A more immediate reminder waited just around the corner, Tenya slowing to a halt as a grimly serious Manual held out a hand to stop him. The traffic circle ahead of them had been turned into a war zone, a squad of pro heroes circling warily around a titanic creature of rippling black flesh and exposed brain matter. It was surrounded by craters, the asphalt simply blown apart by its strength. "Iida, stay behind me. Don't get involved in the fight unless I say so, understand?"

Tenya was moments from responding when the creature turned to seethe a tortured, guttural noise at the circle of heroes, revealing its inhuman profile in full. There was no doubt it was related to the Noumu creature from the USJ attack-a clear connection to the League of Villains. But something else, the thing that made his pistons grind to a halt and his engine stall was-

It was missing an arm. Its left shoulder was a mangled stump, the flesh broken and butchered so horrifically that he could scarcely believe it wasn't simply clay, molded and twisted by furious hands. For a moment, he was unable to exhale. All he could see was stark hospital whites, smell stinging antiseptics and nauseating medications, hear his brother's weak voice and feel the pounding of his heart in his throat as he beheld Tensei's missing arm.

It had to be him, there was no other explanation. None of the pros on the scene were capable of such brutal violence. The man in the iron mask... the man with the cleaver-for a moment, he wondered why, what connection did he have with the attack, what drove him to dismember the Noumu-but that wasn't important. Tenya did not need to know why; he needed to know where.

It was difficult to see in the dark, but the flashes of LED screens were enough to reveal the deep, burgundy puddles that shone slick and glistening on the asphalt. It pooled at its thickest underneath the Noumu, but there were other, smaller puddles leading off towards-

Tenya didn't take the time to hesitate. Before Manual could think to make sure he was following, he turned his back on the fight against the Noumu, his engines running white hot as he tore off towards a side street, streaks of moonlight revealing the trail of dark spatters of blood. He had him, Tenya finally had the man in the iron mask tracked down-he would not walk away without paying for his crimes.

The sounds of chaos filtered out as Tenya followed the trail's end down to a dingy side street, the buildings tightly packed together and the road itself too narrow for anything but foot traffic. Unlike the nocturnal lights of Hosu's commercial district, the shops on either side of him were darkened and in clear disrepair. But the scent of violence still hung thick in the air, plumes of smoke filling the sky like angry thunderheads.

And then that too drained away, the world narrowing into throbbing pinpricks as Tenya's anger shifted gears, his helmeted gaze burning holes into the back of a tall, broad figure, dragging a severed arm behind him. There would be no warning, he would offer no mercy for the heinous villain that had stolen everything from Tensei. His Quirk came to life in a roar of firing engines, his calves burning hot as his dead run became a furious blitz. Tenya lashed out mere feet away from the villain, his armored boot turned into a deadly projectile by the sheer speed offered by his Quirk-

A meaty hand wrapped around his ankle moments before he struck the villain between his shoulder blades, fingers locking in an iron grip that utilized his momentum against him. He was swung around in a brutal fling, crashing and skidding across the brick paved road. Tenya gasped and grit his teeth behind his helmet, the impact jarring him so badly it was a struggle to draw breath.

"Why are you here." The man in the iron mask, a shadowy specter that had lived only in Tenya's hateful imaginings had finally been revealed by the swollen breadth of the moon. He was staggeringly tall, easily head and shoulders above Tenya himself, even in his armor. The man was bulky as well, thick, broad shoulders hidden away under a bulky studded vest and a stained, thickly woven butcher's smock. His arms were bare, muscle bulging underneath twisted flesh that was more scar tissue than skin, one bare, meaty hand wrapped around the wrist that had belonged to the Noumu. A shoddy leather belt was tightly cinched around his waist, the loops bearing a wicked array of gleaming knives. His smock ended just above his knees, revealing slick, black, rubbery butcher's trousers and worn, steel toed boots.

And from his hip there hung a great knife-a thick, rectangular cleaving blade, so large that wielding it would be surely impossible with only one hand. It was soaked with fresh blood, the syrupy, burgundy sludge that flowed inside of the Noumu. Tenya ripped his gaze away from the sight of the blade, and poured all his hatred upward, towards the villain's empty gaze. He wore a full iron face mask, crudely shaped into a distorted mockery of a human face, with squinting eye holes, a wedge nose, and an oblong opening fitted with a rectangular mouth guard, fashioned with iron bands to imitate teeth. It was fitted with a piece that covered the back of his head as well, combined together with thick iron rivets.

"You're him, aren't you? The man who killed the Hero Killer." Tenya shakily rose to his feet, his anger burning so hot that he almost expected to vomit steam instead of harshly gritted words. "You're the man that took my brother's arm, aren't you?!" He was trembling uncontrollably, his fury growing exponentially at the sight of the man's expressionless mask, his neutral posture, his uninterested tone. "You took everything from him!" Tenya nearly screamed it, and it didn't make him feel better to hear his fury echoing down the street. No, there was only one thing that could quench it now.

"...You speak of Ingenium." That emotionless, uncaring tone was like gasoline, giving him yet more fuel to burn. The man in the iron mask regarded him momentarily, one hand hanging loosely at his belt, on the same side as a hand length steak knife. "I told your brother after our lesson that I would take his arm instead of his life. I told him that if he wanted it back, he could take it himself, when he became strong enough to do so. So, Why are you here."

Tenya could only see red. The villain's dispassionate recounting of his brother's mutilation, as if he wasn't responsible for destroying his career, his life- "I am here because my brother can't be anymore! Because you took his Quirk from him, took away his ability to fight for others, to bring justice to scum like you!" Tenya could feel his engines sputtering, his control over his Quirk iron clad but his will to destroy the villain in front of him growing out of control. "I am here," he continued, words hissing between his clenched teeth as his engines heated up, prepared to unleash a Recipro Burst and cave in that horrible, leering mask, "TO MAKE YOU PAY FOR WHAT YOU DID TO HIM!"

"I see." Tenya's vision blurred into white hot fury, a yell boiling in his chest as he tensed to attack- "Then I will teach you the same lesson in his stead." And then the villain was moving, his cleaver snapping from its bonds as an arm carved with scar tissue whipped the flat of the blade towards him-

And then Tenya could only see stars.

Chapter 38: Cut. Break. Separate.

Chapter Text

The overpowering flavor of blood was nauseating. Sickeningly hot gushes of it trickled down into his mouth, staining his tongue with the coppery bite of broken skin. Electric currents ran under the skin of his face, sparking with such heat and insistence that Tenya half expected his nerves to simply burst apart like overloaded circuits. He'd been struck, hadn't he? Struck by something that rattled his skull, something that made his thoughts thick and sluggish. He could vaguely recognize the pavement under his back, the solid weight of his armor and the leaden anchors of his bones. He struggled to draw in a shuddering breath, nerves clamoring in alarm as something sharp scraped against his teeth and gums, caressing the raw ravine that had been carved through his upper lip.

He choked on a globule of blood, autonomy returning in fits and spurts as he fumbled to do away with the thing cutting into him, hands shaking and clammy with sweat beneath his gloves as he fumbled for the lip of-his helmet. His helmet was cutting into his face, a shard of metal broken and bent inwards. He ripped it from his head before it could do more damage, nicking his eyebrow before the dented metal clattered to the ground.

Awareness sparked into existence as he took his first gulping breath of the night air, tainted by the bitter flavor of soot, and he scrambled backwards on scraping asphalt as his wild gaze caught sight of the leering, emotionless mask that towered above him. His backward motion and the rage bubbling in his throat were both halted by a boot slamming down against his chest plate, an impact like an anvil falling from the sky.

"Stay still. That will make this easier for you." The man in the iron mask spoke like an automaton: slow, cold, and unfeeling. His statuesque posture broke for a moment, and Tenya's eyes caught on the flash of moonlight painting the length of the cleaver in his hand. His anger turned to something icy and primal when he saw it, hanging from a meaty grip like a guillotine blade. That damnable mask stared unflinchingly down at him as though he were nothing more than an irreverent insect, the boot against his chest pressing so hard he could feel the metal of his armor creak in protest.

Tenya's heart leaped into his throat as the villain raised his blade in achingly slow increments, a monstrous hunk of steel nearly as long as his forearm. He could feel the air in his lungs barely managing to circulate, hitching and catching with hysteria as he struggled to force his way out from under the criminal's boot, unable to do anything but scrape uselessly against the stone beneath him.

"Let go of me," he hissed through his teeth, breathless and frantic in the wake of his extinguished fury. Cold fear had spread through his insides like cobwebs, his working parts gone still and silent. Tenya dug his fingers into the villain's leg, just above the lip of his boot, and failed to wrench it away. A cry of shock tore from his throat when his chest plate was crunched inwards with a thunderous stomp, his grip weakening enough for the villain to wrench his arm aside with his boot. The sudden release of pressure resulted in a desperate gasp, and Tenya fumbled to crawl away and find his footing.

"I told you to stay still. If you struggle, I might cut at a poor angle." The words were inhumanly calm, accompanied by his own groan of pain when the villain snagged his askew arm by the elbow and forcibly flipped him over, the weight of his boot returning to crunch between Tenya's shoulder blades. "This is a lesson, not punishment. I have no need to cause you unnecessary pain." Tenya choked on his own breath when the villain wrenched his arm backwards, the socket protesting with sparks of pain. "Though you are yet young, and have room to grow, so perhaps I will show you some small mercy."

Tenya's heart rattled with instability, his panted breaths a hyperventilating klaxon as the reality of the danger he was in crashed through him. This wasn't a villain for him to battle, to beat bloody and broken so that he could extract justice for Tensei. He finally understood the haunted look in his brother's eyes, finally understood that it was not a man that had killed the Hero Killer-

"Y-you're a monster," he gasped out, breaths tight and thin as his efforts to escape were reduced to useless writhing. He struggled to twist his head around to try and look back, the invisible weight of the butcher's cleaver hanging over him like a headsman's axe. "Let go of me, let go of me!" Tenya huffed a single hot, hysterical breath against the stone before he could turn his head again, and then ceased to breathe at all as the moonlight dissolved the shadow of the Noumu's severed arm, its length (longer than his entire body) splayed across the stonework. Tenya's vision narrowed into pinpricks, his head swimming and breaths knotted into a noose as primal fear replaced every ounce of rationality left. The Noumu's fingers twitched, lengths of bruise black flesh tapping one by one against the stone like ticking clock hands.

"You are weak now, but you have much growing left to do," the man in the iron mask mused, empty and hollow as it echoed off the pavement. "There is potential in you, as there is in everyone. Perhaps this will help lead you to it."

And then the blade fell.

The world melted away in a noxious sea of fire, contracting and compressing until an agony that dwarfed every pain Tenya had ever felt combined into one fried him inside and out like a lighting bolt. The sickening slap of meat and crunch of bone parting under the force of sharpened steel was an afterthought, the 'CRACK' of blade against stone lost in turmoil as every nerve in his right shoulder imploded in the same moment. He couldn't breathe, he couldn't breathe the squelch of bloody flesh had replaced every molecule of oxygen in him and every joint in his body locked up, petrified into stone and every muscle contracted, twisting and pulling as if to tear themselves apart, and Tenya's mouth parted and dripped blood down his chin and his eyelids pulled apart until the night air stung his unseeing eyes-

And Tenya screamed.
--
Izuku's blood froze solid in his veins as an agonized howl rent the night air to tatters, a catastrophe locked in a single discordant note, stretched until the point of breaking. A pulse of static thrummed through him as the cry tapered out, summoned by his alarm and dismay. He stumbled towards the edge of the apartment building's roof, dodging around an air conditioning unit to catch himself on the concrete lip, desperate to find the source of the noise and dreading the thought of who it had come from.

Frantic in his pursuit of Gran Torino and the Noumu, Izuku had cut straight through the waves of people fleeing from the heart of the chaos, struggling to figure out what could have been the meaning behind the attack. He had no doubt that the League of Villains was behind it-there couldn't be a coincidence that monsters with exposed brains had shown up to wreak havoc again.

Gran Torino would be fine; Izuku had the utmost belief in his ability to take care of himself. But he wasn't the only one in Hosu. The thought of Iida getting caught up in the middle of the attack had pushed him to keep running, up until he'd found a group of pro heroes struggling to fend off two more of the hideous Noumus. His first instinct had been to aid in their efforts, but an offhand comment by the Normal Hero Manual had given him pause and confirmed his fears.

Iida was missing. More than missing, he had run off of his own will. It was nearly unthinkable-Izuku knew his friend wasn't the type of person to run off in the wake of a disaster instead of doing everything he could to help. He had to have been in danger. The thought struck Izuku like a hammer, nailed into the base of his skull and buzzing with urgency. Maybe there was another Noumu that had cut him off, or a villain associated with the League-

Either way, Izuku knew there was no choice but to find him. He'd taken to the rooftops, burning shallow divots in the brickwork with his Quirk and spitting sparks into the empty alleyways as he ascended, giving himself a better vantage point to begin his search. In less dire circumstances, it might have felt invigorating to leap between buildings in a shower of blinding sparks, the wind carding through his hair and the weightless pit in his stomach mollified as he found solid concrete beneath his boots, again and again.

But any ounce of levity he'd possessed had been boiled away by the scream, it's echo still ringing hauntingly in his ears. Izuku hauled himself up onto the lip of the roof, the concrete barrier barely thick enough for him to stand on without tipping over, and leaped across the narrow alley to the next building over. His heart pounded in his ears as panic eschewed even the nausea that came and went with each jump, deafening him with the echo of that unmistakable scream. It had to be Iida, Izuku had to find him.

The bright lights of the commercial district and the disastrous glow of the fires had already been left far behind him, and the milky glow of the moon did little to penetrate the dark streets below. For a moment he was lost in the oil slick shine of concrete and asphalt, eyes tracking uselessly down their shadowed edges-until he spotted it, a lone figure in the dark with something indistinct at its feet. The shape on the ground just barely moved, but it was enough for the moonlight to refract off something silvery-armor, Iida's armor-

Izuku dropped like a stone. The concrete beneath his boots was replaced by empty air as he jumped without the aid of his Quirk, conserving his power until a single moment before impact, Living Nightmare thrumming through his legs and twisting outwards in an explosive cloud, the air pushing up against him as overheated molecules were converted to pure energy. The impact of the thirty foot fall was negated almost entirely, the cushion of white hot detonations fanning around him like star stuff.

A bare instant after his boots had clicked against solid ground, a cry unearthed itself from Izuku's throat. "IIDA!" With the moon at his back, the scene before him had been cast into chilling relief. Slick splashes of blood marred the street, a violent spray quickly staunched. A lump of flesh lay limp and lifeless, the tar painted arm of a Noumu. A hunched, hulking figure in a blood stained smock and a ragged canvas vest crouched above a suit of armor, a solid mass of rippling muscle painted in thick lines of scar tissue. A belt of wicked knives hung around his waist, cruel implements with razor edges. A meaty fist bearing the same twisted scars wrapped around the hilt of a massive, bone splitting cleaver, the blade scraping against concrete. It was-impossibly huge, the sort of thing to cut a man in half-and the villain's thick, bulky arms made that seem like a guarantee.

The sight of him turned Izuku's breath to ash. He barely even looked like a villain-maybe a monster from a horror movie, the sort that made him flinch and close his eyes before his mother would change the channel. He was nearly twenty feet away, but Living Nightmare still went haywire in his presence, a prickling wash of static as he beheld the inhuman stillness of the villain's monstrous frame and the sheen of blood dripping steadily down the blade of his weapon.

And Iida was sprawled face down at his feet, his exposed countenance smeared with blood that trailed from his upper lip, flesh parted in a sickening tear to reveal a flash of reddened teeth behind it. His armor had practically been reduced to scrap metal, bent and dented and cracked apart along the back of his breastplate, visibly digging into the base of his spine. His eyes were glazed and wild behind his cracked glasses, navy blue stricken by animalistic terror and engorged pupils staring straight through Izuku.

Static jumped and crackled throughout every nerve in his body, spitting sparks and leaping between wires like electrical coils-because the inside of Iida's shoulder stared, too. A stump jutted out from underneath the lip of his breastplate's sleeve, a wet cylinder of flesh and viscera blooming outward from a core of off white bone, stained a grimy orange by blood.

It was no mystery where it had gone. Limp and scraping knuckle down against the concrete, Iida's severed arm rested within the villain's massive palm, fingers locked around the unarmored stretch between his shoulder and tricep. The villain turned to meet his gaze, face hidden behind a twisted iron mask, occluded eye sockets and barred, bolted teeth rattling a shiver down Izuku's spine. In the time it took Izuku to draw a startled breath, the villain had leaned further down, his knee pressing into the base of Iida's spine-

With a sickening squelch of raw meat, the villain crunched the severed end of Iida's arm back against his stump of a shoulder. Dark blood oozed from between the point of contact as the villain twisted, drawing a strangled cry of agony from Iida's throat.

It struck Izuku like a gunshot. The static howl crowing the base of his skull flooded forth to consume every inch of his waking consciousness. Living Nightmare wailed with the miasmatic breath of the tortured and broken. Wires twisted and knotted together with the undulating fury of cosmic serpents, a writhing cacophony of screeching metal that made the very shadows quail in its wake. His silhouette was birthed with a hideous crawl, oozing from his flesh like an oily geyser and staining the world with his presence like a black hole ink blot.

Izuku could taste his own fury and despair. That villain-that villain had held Iida down and cut him apart like an animal. Because Iida wasn't strong enough to fight him off. Because Iida was hurting and angry, lost in a dark place that Izuku hadn't done enough to draw him out of. And now it was too late-he could feel Living Nightmare's fingers squirming through his flesh, wires that burrowed into his muscle and drilled into his bone to raise his arm like a puppeted corpse. The ravenous discord was deafening, wires so tangled and twisted that he had no way of pulling the correct one, of undoing the septic surge of destruction yearning to engulf everything in front of his fingertips.

Izuku had only a single moment before he was consumed by amygdalan impulses, an instant to hold still as many wires as he could grasp and subvert their power. No matter what, no matter what-he wouldn't hurt Iida. With his last intention wading through dark waters to still the bulk of their crushing rage, Izuku's breath was stolen away by the rebirth of Living Nightmare. The power ejected from his open palm in a bone splintering detonation, howling with the mindless need to unmake. His arm locked up as if skewered by a spit, an infernal hellstorm of liquid white metal that sank into every crevice, charring him from the inside. A torrent of fumes darker than the night itself vented from every pore on his arm, thick and choking and foul.

And the villain exploded.

Curtailed by the bulwark of Izuku's last vestiges of control, the true bite of Living Nightmare's fury was shaved down into a mere splinter, warped and curved like a scythe to limit the bulk of the destruction to the opposite side of the street. Half of the road had been reduced to chunks of rubble and tarry, melted asphalt, nearly a foot deeper than the solid ground it had once been. Forty feet of windows had boiled and shattered, leaking molten glass down the charred, blackened frames of the buildings' faces. He'd avoided damaging their structural integrity, but they'd seemingly aged a hundred years in a split second.

Halfway between the opposite side of the street and the still prone Iida, the villain had not been so lucky. Living Nightmare was cruel-rather than take from Izuku his senses, it left him with ample awareness to behold the culmination of his efforts. He heard every gush of hot blood splattering onto concrete, every sickening slap of organs spilling to the ground, and the twin meaty thuds of two halves of a body succumbing to gravity.

The villain had been wrenched in two. His torso ended in a ragged split halfway down his abdomen, the remains of ropey intestines and the tissue sacks that were his stomach, gallbladder, spleen, and pancreas slopping out of him as their support structure was destroyed. One of his hands had been nearly obliterated as well, flaps of stringy flesh and chunks of muscle barely clinging to bones bared to the open air beneath his wrist. Flung nearly ten feet away, his lower abdomen had opened up like a wet flower, an unidentifiable mess of bloody meat fanning out above his limp, dismembered legs.

Izuku went limp in the same moment as a gout of blood splattered across his front, painting him in a jagged red streak from his hair to his chest. He crumpled to his knees, right arm nearly numb from overwhelming pain and left hand barely capable of unlocking and discarding the mouthpiece of his mask, and spilled the contents of his stomach onto the ground. His spine bowed under the weight of death, eyes wide and spilling tears behind his blood smeared visor.

"O-oh god," he croaked in moaning horror once vomit had ceased dribbling from his lips, "ohgodohgodohgodohgod-" Iida. He had to-he could barely think past the whine of static, a swarm of steel cicadas clouding his head, but-he had to make sure Iida was okay.

"M...Midoriya?" Iida's voice split the static like a lance, pained and wavering and gritted through clenched teeth. Iida had been-painted in blood, a syrupy puddle slowly forming underneath him from the oozing liquid rolling down his back. But he was alive, his eyes bloodshot and fingers twitching, and his arm- "Midoriya," he rasped with grave urgency, eyes widening as he beheld something that Izuku's tunneling vision could not discern, his focus narrowed into a pinprick as he realized that Iida's arm- "He's not dead."

It was attached. Izuku froze in place as the blood matting his hair and staining his front suddenly oozed out into the air in hellish red motes, collecting in a sanguine mist that followed a nonexistent breeze. The slosh of organs rolling and squirming brought another surge of nausea hurtling up his throat, and Izuku choked on stomach acid as his terror reached a crescendo.

"That," the villain intoned in a hollow, gravelly voice, his iron shrouded head snapping back up he lifted his torso from the ground. Scraps of flesh and chunks of organs and pints of blood oozed back together in the shape of a man, legs writhing like worms as they stitched themselves back to the meat of his torso, sinew knitting and fat stretching and muscle threading, "is strength to be admired."

Izuku nearly fell backwards when the villain turned fully towards him, the bare flesh of his abdomen exposed by the destruction of his clothing. He was more than just laden with scars-he barely had any skin that wasn't scar tissue, raised white lines and deep burgundy gouges slotting together like the pieces of a jigsaw puzzle. "You're the one from the photo. The boy he wanted dead."

Swallowing hard to avoid his heart lurching right up into his throat, Izuku placed his left hand behind his back to stay upright, his right arm trembling with pain and muscular spasms. It'd probably be useless for a while. "Y-you.. who-who a-are you? W-who wa-wanted m-me..?"

"The villain, Shigaraki. He seems to despise you." The villain slowly reached down to retrieve his discarded cleaver, the mere contact between his fingers and the hilt battering Izuku with static laced fear. The clatter and grind of steel on concrete echoed in the core of his bones, and he struggled to slide himself a few inches backwards while the villain's attention was momentarily turned away. He wasn't attacking yet-maybe, if he could keep the villain talking...

Izuku's fingers slowly crept towards his belt, and it took every ounce of his concentration to stop them from shaking. "I am Mincemeat. It is only fair to tell you, after your demonstration." He flinched when the villain-Mincemeat-returned that unfeeling gaze back to him. "What is your name, child." Izuku's eyes darted away from the hideous mask, flashing over Iida for a moment to assess his state. His arm was definitely still attached-or rather, reattached. Mincemeat had to have some sort of... organic manipulation Quirk. And judging by how quickly he had put himself together after being... struck by Living Nightmare, it was surely powerful.

Izuku locked eyes with Iida for a split second, taking in his engorged pupils and his pale, clammy face. He could only desperately hope that Iida hadn't gone into shock. "I-I'm.. Izu-Izuku M-Midoriya.Y-you.." He struggled to think of something to say to stall for time, the majority of his focus eaten up by trying to navigate to his contacts by memory alone. "A-are you affi-affiliated with, t-the L-League of Villains?"

"Please, Midoriya..." Iida's voice left him in a pained groan, gouged raw by the sheer terror in his voice, "you have to run-you have to run away from here! He-he'll kill you!" Iida's plea became a choked cry when Mincemeat crunched one hand underneath his boot, grinding twitching fingers into the concrete.

"Quiet. I have given you more than ample mercy tonight. Show your gratitude and keep silent." Izuku trembled as something finally entered the villain's voice, something other than cold nonchalance-fury. "The League... no, I do not call them allies. Perhaps they might have had a chance, but I refuse to cavort with their abominations." Mincemeat ground the word out into a fine paste, hissing through the metal teeth of his mask. "Those twisted, mindless aberrations... that is not true strength! I will hunt them to the last, as well as their master." Meaty fingers tightened around the hilt of the monstrous cleaver, and Izuku remained hyper aware of its presence. Iida was much faster than he was-if he hadn't been able to outrun that blade, than Izuku didn't trust his own chances. He just needed to buy a little more time, and keep the villain talking.

"I-if-if you're n-not with the L-League, the-then.. w-why did you a-attack my f-friend?" Izuku carefully tracked the sequence of vibrations under his fingertips, struggling to line them up to the various menus of his phone. With a hitched breath, Izuku tapped his thumb against what he prayed was the prompt to share his location with all contacts.

"...You are mistaken." Mincemeat's fingers flexed along the handle of his cleaver, and for a moment Izuku was certain their rhythm had been mirrored by the sound of tapping. "It is your friend who attacked me. He is observant-able to track me down in the heat of chaos. But he was blind to everything else."

"Y-you-" Dread welled up in his chest, an oily pustule that swelled and desecrated his ribs with connecting strings. Iida shifted on the ground, struggling to rise to his feet despite the shards of his armor digging into his flesh. "I-Iida... w-why w-would you-"

"This has nothing to do with you, Midoriya." Izuku nearly flinched at the bite in his classmate's tone-his words were barbed and trembling with pain, stained with desperation. His eyes were dark and bloodshot, hardened into steel. "Get out of here-"

Iida's voice broke when Mincemeat struck him in the ribs with a steel toed boot, striking a valley that had split straight through his armor. "It seems you haven't learned a thing. Your hunger for vengeance is what makes you weak. Perhaps you need a harsher lesson-"

"S-stop!" Izuku's plea rang through the air, halting Mincemeat's boot where it hovered over Iida's back. "D-don't-don't h-hurt him a-anymore. Y-you-he l-learned his lesson, we-we'll lea-leave, I promise." It was a gamble-he had no idea what Mincemeat's motives even were, but he couldn't-he couldn't just sit idly by while he hurt Iida.

"Stop me." In an instant, Mincemeat's inhuman stillness was overloaded with fluid motion, carelessly kicking Iida to the side as he advanced in thundering footfalls. A flash of sliver marked the retrieval of a hand length butcher's knife, dwarfed both by the villain's massive palm and the sword length implement in his other hand. Izuku leaped to his feet as his heart crammed itself against the back of his teeth, white noise washing out the growing fervor in Mincemeat's voice. "You are a U.A. student. You wish to become a hero. Prove that your ideals have meaning-if you desire safety for your friend, then stop me."

Izuku didn't have the luxury of time. He frantically backpedaled, the heel of his boot knocking aside the mouthpiece of his mask as he drew his shoulders together and raised his left arm. He reached for his thinnest wire, digging carefully through the jumping, agitated energy of Living Nightmare until he had it firmly in his grasp. He was the one in control-and nobody was going to die tonight.

The air erupted in a plume of crackling star stuff as Mincemeat's arm fell like a guillotine, the handle of the knife flat against his palm and the blade pointed down, aimed to rip and stab. The blast-back of heat and force rocked Izuku back on his heels, hissing against the exposed flesh of Mincemeat's arm and heating the blade of his knife until it bore a dull orange glow. The outward force was just enough to throw his swing off kilter, the knife skittering uselessly across the front of Izuku's armor. He ducked low and pushed forward, pumping a micro burst through his heels to give himself more momentum, and entrenched himself firmly within Mincemeat's guard. He was close enough that the massive cleaver would be cumbersome to use, giving him the split second it would take for Mincemeat to wind up another swing to strike first.

Izuku's left arm was wreathed in a cloud of galactic starlight, a shining white beacon that burst through the air like a screaming comet. With all the strength he could muster, determination burning hot under his skin, he jabbed his fist straight under Mincemeat's ribs and emitted a second burst from his knuckles. It created a detonating blow that would force the villain back and give Izuku time to create more distance and formulate a plan to destroy his weapons-

"WEAK." Izuku choked on air as a steely forearm slammed into his sternum, his armor absorbing enough kinetic energy to prevent his chest from simply caving in. Before he could even be knocked off his feet, fingers like iron cables were suddenly around his throat, accompanied by the clatter of a knife falling to the concrete. Izuku kicked feebly as he was lifted off the ground, unable to focus beyond blind panic. His airways were constricted so tightly he could only wheeze, eyes bugging out behind his visor as his control over Living Nightmare fizzled away. He reached instinctively for the hand around his throat, scrabbling uselessly at Mincemeat's fingers.

Until his advancement was halted by an engine boosted boot smashing into the side of his head, a streak of searing blue nitro that took Mincemeat completely off course. He staggered sideways, cleaver falling to shriek across concrete as he clutched at his iron mask. Iida skidded to a halt a moment later in a cloud of exhaust, wobbling unsteadily on his feet. His eyes burned as hot as his engines, filled with fury and despair. "Midoriya, you have to run-"

"I-I'm not r-running anymore!" Izuku's voice was raw and throaty, the raspy shout ripping painfully out of him. He forced himself back onto his feet, the establishing link to Living Nightmare reflected by the sparks swirling around his fingertips. "I w-won't-I won't l-leave you here w-with him!"

"This has nothing to do with you!" Iida's voice cracked from the sheer volume he'd crammed into it, stripped apart into stringy strands that barely concealed the choking tears lurking behind them.

"Y-yes, it does! O-of course it d-does-you're m-my friend," Izuku croaked, his own tears trailing down to condense against the bottom of his visor. "Y-you're my fri-friend and you're in d-danger, a-and-that's my-my fault too! Be-because you were already h-hurting, and-and I d-didn't do enough to help y-you!" Izuku could barely bite back a sob, self flagellating sorrow wearing him down like water over stone. He had just enough strength to stay standing, and force his gaze to lock with Iida's. "I-I'm so-sorry."

"Midoriya..." Iida's eyes softened, regret filling their depths like clouds of ink as some of his fury drained away. His split lip and battered frame were suddenly his own again, as if he'd been released from the possession of a wrathful specter. He opened his mouth to say something else, but the words never came. The only thing that left his blood stained lips was a wheeze as the flat of Mincemeat's cleaver caught him below his breastplate, lifting him clear off his feet as though he were a mere scrap of paper caught in the breeze.

"So many useless words," the villain growled as Iida skidded across the concrete, the side of his metal mask dented inwards. He raised his cleaver again and Izuku didn't think, snapping up his left arm and filling the night with starlight. A streak of exploding molecules struck Mincemeat across the back, filling his skin with pockmark holes and making him lurch off balance. He recovered much more quickly than he had before, spinning around with the sickening ease of a machine made of flesh. "THAT IS NOT ENOUGH."

His roar made Izuku flinch, his heels burning hot as he prepared to leap out of the way of an oncoming attack. Mincemeat raised his wicked cleaver high-and brought it down on his own offered hand, parting the flesh between his wrist and forearm with practiced ease. Izuku's stomach lurched as he was exposed to glistening flesh, and he nearly lost the contents of his stomach again when he realized that no blood flowed forth. The stump of Mincemeat's arm closed over like folded dough, a lump of unmarred flesh.

And his severed hand stayed aloft, fingers flexing outwards. Horror crawled through Izuku with prickling legs as the meat of the villain's hand suddenly split apart, as if they'd all been wrenched in different directions simultaneously. He gagged as strings of viscera connected the separate sections, creating a filmy web that held together the joints of his fingers and his separated metacarpals. In an instant, his severed hand had tripled in size and become a nightmarish parody of human anatomy, more akin to some unknown predator lurking in the ocean's deepest depths than anything belonging to a human being. With a sickening squelch of raw flesh, strings of meat darted out of what remained of the wrist to impale themselves into Mincemeat's arm stump.

"You are young, and naive. You do not yet understand the value of true strength, the sacrifices that must be made to become more than what you are." Mincemeat's voice had leveled back out into the passionless drone he'd spoken in before, cold and unfeeling. "Your friend thought himself strong enough to defeat me. I taught him that he was powerless. From that knowledge, he may grow." Fifteen feet away, Iida failed to rise to his feet. He was barely able to even get his legs underneath him. "You have great strength at your disposal, but you refuse to use it. If you do not push your limits, you will never become more." Izuku's stomach twisted at the sight of mangled appendages in motion, tendrils of flesh and bone reaching down to pluck multiple knives from Mincemeat's belt. "I have been cut and broken at my own hand and the hands of others, so that I could become more than myself. And I will do the same for you."

Mincemeat reared back the tendrils of his nightmarish hand, all five appendages twined around the handle of a knife. He lifted his cleaver in tandem, the blade slick and shining with blood. His occluded eyes bore down on Izuku, dark pits containing untold horrors. "You will learn the value of your strength, or you will die."

Living Nightmare rose once more to his call. Burning white motes sparked around the trembling fingers of his left hand, accompanied by wisps of dark, oily fumes that bled from his knuckles. It wouldn't be difficult to reach blindly, to pull at cutting wires and unmake the monster of a man in front of him. He couldn't kill Mincemeat, he couldn't-but he and Iida were alone and injured, and his call for help hadn't yet been answered. He just... he just needed to slow the villain down, and buy more time. He had to protect Iida. He had to protect himself. Living Nightmare's teeth gnashed against his tendons and gnawed into his bones, the power surging through his arm-

And Izuku gasped in shock as a gout of searing flames rushed past his fingertips, instinct driving him to duck away and clutch his arm against his chest. Mincemeat's knives clattered to the ground as his inhuman hand retracted back into a human shape, meat bubbling and popping from the heat of the flames lashing against it. That hadn't been Living Nightmare.

"Midoriya. Next time you're in danger, please send more information. There's such a thing as being too concise." Izuku sobbed in relief as Todoroki's dry tone cut through the night air, his knees trembling uncontrollably as Living Nightmare receded back into his chest. Todoroki was a beacon in the night, his left side painted in a living mural of fire. The flames licked through his hair and the fabric of his jumpsuit, combating the dark shadows that had choked out the street.

"T-Todoroki-y-you're h-here," Izuku choked out in something like disbelief, having been nearly certain that his message would have been for naught.

"You don't really seem the type to send ominous messages for no reason, so I figured you must have been in trouble. It's unfortunate that your luck hasn't improved." Todoroki's expression was stoic, back-lit by his flames to reveal the icy sheen of his eyes. His gaze was locked unerringly on the statuesque Mincemeat, who regarded him with equal intensity. "There are pro heroes on the way right now, so I'll help you and Iida keep this guy occupied until they get here."

Mincemeat remained absolutely still when the volume of Todoroki's fire nearly doubled, a clear threat meant to intimidate. "..Hell Flame." Todoroki's eyes widened by a fraction, his expression thawing with shock. He stepped forward with his right foot- "Unfortunate. It seems our lesson will have to be postponed." Mincemeat mechanically returned his cleaver to its loop on his belt, the blade barely an inch away from scraping the pavement. He regarded Izuku and Todoroki in silence for a long moment, before tilting his mask to look back at Iida. "Tell Ingenium I'll be waiting for him."

Before Izuku could even think of moving, Mincemeat's detatched hand rocketed through the air as if it'd been flung, all five fingers spreading apart before it suddenly ballooned outward in an impossibly large explosion of gore. The entire street was suddenly choked in a hazy fog of blood, limiting Izuku's vision to barely an inch past his visor. He cried out in shock as he felt a sudden spike in temperature, barely able to see the impression of Todoroki's flames lighting up the fog.

Izuku had only just begun to wipe fruitlessly at his visor when the blood fog dissipated, thinning out in seconds to leave the three of them alone on the street. Mincemeat had vanished, along with his knives and the severed arm of the Noumu.

Todoroki's flames burned for a moment longer before he released them, a sigh spilling past his lips. "Midoriya, are you injured-" His inquiry was cut short when Izuku desperately threw himself at his classmate, tears running hot down his face as he clung pathetically to Todoroki's jumpsuit. He shuddered with hitching breaths, sobs bubbling in the back of his throat but never quite spilling forth. It was-it was going to be okay. They were going to be okay. It was over.

A handful of moments passed before Izuku could feel the cautious, unsure press of Todoroki's hand against his shoulder, fingers just barely applying pressure. "It's... okay. You're safe now." The awkward lilt in his voice made it clear that Todoroki was unsure of what to say, and Izuku only allowed himself another selfish second of physical comfort before he pulled away.

"I-I'm sorry," he mumbled, sniffling and dislodging his visor to wipe at his eyes with a gloved palm. "I-Iida is-he's h-hurt. W-we should g-get him s-somewhere safe." The emotional turmoil that Izuku had expected wasn't quite as overwhelming as he'd thought it would be, and he was coherent enough to at least scoop up his discarded mouth piece and lead Todoroki towards Iida's prone figure. He could break down later, when they were no longer in any danger.

"...Yeah," Todoroki replied agreeably, sticking close to Izuku's side-probably making sure he wouldn't fall. Iida's dented armor shone milk white in the moonlight, highlighting the damage it had taken. But he'd be okay. Izuku would make sure of it. "Let's get out of here."

Chapter 39

Chapter Text

The weight of Iida's dented armor, combined with that of his limp body, was significantly more difficult to carry than Izuku had been prepared for. His legs trembled underneath him as he struggled to maintain balance with Iida's arm slung over his shoulder, kept upright almost completely by Todoroki's stoic efforts on his other side. His right arm was mostly recovered from his use of Living Nightmare, in that it no longer felt as though he'd injected it with molten lead, but the muscles were still weak and slow to respond, making it less than ideal for bearing his friend's dead weight.

His breaths came in raspy wheezes, constricted by the phantom pressure of meaty fingers squeezing his throat. It was a constant ache that throbbed whenever he swallowed or breathed too deeply, and his throat would surely be painted with angry purple-black bruises. It was enough to twist his voice until his words were strangled and reedy, when he dared to break the silence.

"T-Todoroki.. y-you-you sa-said other h-heroes were o-on th-the way, right?" Izuku earned a cool glance from his classmate, his expression unreadable.

"Yeah. I was out with my father when I got your message. I told him the street address before coming over here. At the very least, some of his sidekicks should be getting close by now." Todoroki grunted under his breath, and a moment later Izuku was relieved of some of Iida's weight. He opened his mouth to protest- "That villain you were fighting. Who was he?"

Fiendish thoughts rose unbidden from the dark well at the back of his mind, assaulting him with visceral flashes of exposed organs, melding flesh, and a cold iron mask. Izuku quailed against the shiver that wracked his spine, and focused on keeping Iida upright. "H..he-"

"What the hell do you think you're doin' out here kid?! I told you to stay on the train, and I meant it!" Izuku glanced up in shock as Gran Torino's yell ricocheted off the walls of the alleyway he emerged from, his egg white costume stained with soot and his expression contorted with annoyance.

A knot of dread screwed deep into the depths of his stomach, steel threads slicing through his insides like butter. Izuku failed to muster up an immediate response, drawing a blank as panic crept into the corners of his mind. He'd been so wrapped up in everything, so tunnel visioned that he'd almost completely forgotten-

Before he had a chance to sputter out a plea for forgiveness, Gran Torino's scowl softened at the edges, and he sighed out a breath. "'Least you're still on your feet, so you can't be too banged up." The retired pro's gaze sharpened for a moment, his edges hardening back over. "Can't say the same for your friend though. What happened? What's his condition?"

"Iida and Midoriya were assaulted by a villain," Todoroki cut in before Izuku had a chance to open his mouth. "Iida was knocked unconscious before I arrived to help, but he doesn't seem to have any critical injuries. Did you happen to see any of Endeavor's sidekicks on your way here, sir?"

"Didn't see em' myself, but I ran into Todoroki on the way here. Told me there'd be trouble down this way, so I'd bet his sidekicks aren't too far behind." Gran Torino's shrewd gaze flickered over Todoroki's impassive visage, flickering with recognition before he once again subjected Izuku to the weight of his stare. "And once you and your friend get your injuries looked over, you're gonna tell me exactly what made you think it was a good idea to fight a villain by yourself."

"R-right, ye-yes s-sir. I-I'm sorry, M-Mr. Torino," Izuku stammered out in a raspy whisper, his legs wobbling as the last fumes of adrenaline keeping him going dissipated. He was left with a bone deep weariness, which splintered out into a jagged spiderweb of aches and pains. Stronger still was the iron bite of regret on the back of his tongue, sour and accusing. It was his fault, after all, that Iida had been hurt. If he'd been more empathetic, more insistent, more aware of his friend's turmoil, maybe he could have prevented it. If he'd fought harder, if he'd hesitated less, if he hadn't been a coward-

Izuku's silent descent dragged him down into the briney depths of hissing static, a bulwark of sensory deprivation that snuffed out the world around him: he was still and silent as Endeavor's sidekicks came barreling down the street towards them, limp and compliant when Iida's weight was eased from him, fragile and buckling when Todoroki stood beside him, blind and unknowing of the hesitant concern flickering behind mismatched eyes. He didn't look up when a hand drenched in pale moonbeams struggled to reach towards him, fingertips outstretched.

Izuku was lost until the moment reality ripped him asunder, awareness gouging his flesh at the same moment a strangled cry of pain emerged from the body at his side. He had half an instant to be cooked alive by reigniting nerves (throat tightened by a wire noose, eyes squeezed out of his head by clawed thumbs something was wrongwrongwrong) and before he could even turn his head sensation crashed into him with the force of a wrecking ball, three points of pressure hooking against the back of the collar of his uniform and knocking him off his feet. Before he could even hit the ground a fourth entity blazed across his lower back, tearing fabric and skin alike before it caught against the lip of his armor, forming an anchor point to rip him straight off the ground and into the air. The street pulled away from under his feet and his stomach lurched as his armor pulled tight around his throat, pressing into his ribs like a harness.

It took a handful of seconds for awareness to come screaming in on the back of adrenaline, the red hot burn that brought Izuku kicking and screaming into action. He caught a glimpse of the fleeing concrete with a wild flick of his head, his retinas burning with the sight of blood trailing down Todoroki's hunched back and Gran Torino blitzing down the street in hot pursuit.

A garbled screech sounded from above him, and Izuku struggled to crane his neck against the rushing wind. He saw flashes of leathery skin and vaguely humanoid features, which combined with a pulsing chunk of grey matter to confirm his fear-he'd been grabbed by one of the Noumu. He could hear the powerful flapping of fleshy wings, a sound that occupied a single node of the overheating mainframe in his head.

It was-the Noumu belonged to Shigaraki, and-and Mincemeat had said, he had said that Shigaraki wanted him dead- Izuku didn't think. He tugged Living Nightmare to the surface with a single wire, drawing forth a mere echo of pure destruction. It poured into his arm in a torrent of malicious sludge, his influence bathing it in absolving fire until it burned pure white and erupted from his wildly swinging hand. Living Nightmare manifested as a corona of crackling brilliance that trailed through the air like the tail of a shooting star, a single mote of light combating the bleak darkness of the night.

With the wind whistling past his face and an adrenaline fueled bloodsong pulsing in his ears, Izuku was nearly deaf to his own hyperventilation as he desperately heaved his body side to side in the Noumu's grip, straining until his shoulder socket burned in an effort to angle an attack straight upwards. His gaze dropped to the tips of his boots, the mirror shine revealing a smear of dark sky along with the blurry outline of a fleshy, translucent wing, the closest thing he'd get to a clear shot. The Noumu screeched and violently jostled him with its single clawed foot, and for a split second Izuku nearly heaved up every organ stuffed into his abdomen as the fear of falling drowned out every other thought. But the talons clutched around his armor were rock solid, and he swung just far enough to unleash-

Without warning, Izuku's entire left side was exposed to a dizzying spike in temperature just as he released the output of Living Nightmare, a bolt of crackling yellow flames searing past his head and slicing into the Noumu's underside, the impact raining embers down on Izuku's head. Half an instant later Living Nightmare poured forth in a spout of stardust from his gloved fingertips, popping and sparking like a barrage of firecrackers that ate away glowing holes in the Noumu's leathery wing.

The monster screeched in agony, the rain of embers replaced by drizzling blood that cut slick lines across Izuku's scalp, pooling momentarily at the top of his visor before running in currents down the sides of his face. His revulsion was a drop in the geyser of panic that exploded forth as the Noumu suddenly dipped in altitude, it's heavy injury bringing it down much more quickly than Izuku had been planning. Instead of bringing it down long enough to combat and escape from, they were both suddenly hurtling towards the concrete sea below.

The whistling wind became a howling shriek as Izuku plummeted like a stone, dragged and anchored by the Noumu's talons still digging into his armor. He could feel the end of the shredded wing slapping against his boots as the monster struggled to regain altitude, and strained to reach back to get a grip on its foot. His fingertips snagged against a seam of skin that broke into keratin claws, and sent a pulse of Living Nightmare through his fingers. He gagged at the sound of popping flesh and splintering keratin, able to feel a dull heat permeate his armor before one of the talons suddenly broke off. Izuku dangled for a heart stopping moment as clawed toes scraped against his armor, before the grip suddenly broke and sent him into a gentle roll.

The Noumu's screeches grew more distant as Izuku streaked towards the nauseatingly close concrete, so close that he had no way of righting himself for a safe landing in time. Izuku covered his head with one arm and threw the other out in a desperate swing, galactic sparks flowing in a panicked downpour from his fingertips in a last ditch effort to give himself a cushion-

Izuku's hand was the first thing to impact the concrete, his bones creaking for all of an instant before his fingers snapped like matchsticks and his forearm cracked in half. Izuku's vision went completely white as he was overcome by a typhoon of agony, straining to roll his battered body to the side and clutch instinctively at his arm. His damaged throat strangled his scream of pain into a hoarse whine, but the discomfort was a mere afterthought compared to the throbbing inferno raging under the skin of his arm. He could taste hot bile in the back of his throat, brewed by the sickening nausea of his overbearing pain, and struggled not to lose what little remained of his stomach contents.

"Shit," came a hissed exclamation from what Izuku dazedly imagined to be a few paces away, accompanied by the sound of boots on concrete. "You still with us, kid? Didn't hit your head, right?" Izuku sluggishly blinked through the haze of static that had muddled his vision, inclining his head to spy the swimming image of Gran Torino, his concern clear as day even through his domino mask.

"J...just m-m-my a-arm," Izuku lied through gritted teeth-his road rash and bruises weren't important compared to shattered bones, and even if they were he doubted he could have explained them without being sick.

"Could'a been worse. Just stick it out for now kid, we've got an ambulance on the way." Gran Torino's voice almost sounded gentle, but Izuku chalked that up to his own delusions when the retired pro suddenly barked in agitation over his shoulder. "Todoroki, the hell are you standin' around for?! Get the kid back to safety. I'll handle that winged freak."

Rather than the fear of vomiting, Izuku was overcome with the thought that he might just faint altogether when the suited up form of Endeavor stepped into his field of view, his furious scowl wreathed by snapping flames. Izuku froze up under the bone deep freeze of his glare, before thickly muscled arms lifted him from the ground as though he were nothing but a rag doll. He bit down on a yelp when the motion jostled his broken arm, cradling it close to his chest.

"Better be careful, old man," Endeavor bit out at Gran Torino's retreating back, and seemed to visibly restrain himself from spitting anything with any significant vitriol. "Is your arm the only thing that's broken?" It took half a second for Izuku to realize the number two hero was addressing him, and he sputtered out a jumble of syllables before giving up and nodding.

He was roughly deposited on his feet without a word of warning, Endeavor practically dumping him back onto the concrete. "Then get moving. A hero that can't pick themself up after a fight is more trouble than they're worth. Better for you to learn that now." Izuku's shaking legs barely kept him upright, but he wasn't exactly given much time to orient himself. Endeavor stalked back towards where his sidekicks were huddled so quickly that Izuku could barely keep up, the space in his chest that might normally be filled with offense and upset instead overflowing with a mire of misery.

With his earthbound perspective restored, a dazed part of him realized the Noumu hadn't made it very far at all before being taken down. The perpetual echo of agony still made every step resonate far longer than the modest distance required, however, and it felt like an eternity of his broken bones grinding together with teeth rattling shrieks before he'd finally caught up. The blare of an ambulance echoed down to the empty street, and a handful of Endeavor's sidekicks jogged past him, sparing looks of sympathy that he hardly registered.

Izuku stood on the fringe of activity, watching numbly as Endeavor spoke to one of his subordinates, who sat with Todoroki splayed face down across their legs. His back was a ragged mess of blood, his jumpsuit torn like tissue paper and his skin shredded in three distinct gouges. The Noumu's talons had cut streaks that marred his back from shoulder to hip, a trio of ugly wounds oozing rivulets of blood. The sidekick was struggling to staunch the blood flow with a piece of their own costume, looking increasingly pale as Endeavor's wreath of flames momentarily flared up. Todoroki's eyes were half lidded, his lips pulled into a tight line of pain and irritation. His father's presence clearly wasn't alleviating him of his pain, and the cold sneer on Endeavor's face made his displeasure with and disregard for Todoroki obvious. It made him angry, but Izuku was so exhausted that it was merely a sputter of disgust compared to the molten toxins Endeavor had conjured in him previously.

Todoroki's mouth finally parted to offer something clipped and quiet to his demanding father, a brief utterance to relieve himself of the scrutiny. For a moment, Izuku locked gazes with him, and a deluge of remorse poured into the pit of his stomach. ..It was his fault. It was his fault that his friend had been injured. Just like-just like Iida. Izuku pulled himself from the icy depths of Todoroki's eyes, scanning the rest of the street until his eyes caught on a flash of sliver.

Iida had apparently awoken in the meantime, but he looked dazed and half aware of his surroundings. His head lolled slightly to the side as one of Endeavor's sidekicks firmly pried away some of the more damaged sections of his costume, the twisted hunks of metal making bile surge in Izuku's gut. That villain-Mincemeat could have killed Iida whenever he wanted to. Iida hadn't survived by Izuku's intervention-it was all due to the deluded whims of a murderer. Dumb luck was the only thing that kept him breathing.

Izuku had only just obeyed the impulse that implored him to walk over and grovel at Iida's feet in remorse when a body stood in his way, navy fabric stretched over a harden physique and crackling flames rimmed around a frosted scowl. "You. Midoriya, correct? Tell me everything you know about the villain that attacked you and your classmates." Endeavor's voice spiked with impatience, a jagged frequency that grew only sharper with every moment that served to prod at his limited tolerance.

Offering a slow, dull blink in response, because all his nervous energy had been drained in the effort of just keeping his balance, Izuku struggled to untangle the knot of his tongue. "H-h-he.. he s-said his-his name wa-was M-Mincemeat. I-I think-I think h-he's the one th-that.. k-killed the Hero Killer. H-he wore a m-mask-a metal one. W-we couldn't see hi-his face. A-and his Quirk w-was... s-some form of o-organic m-manipulation, t-that he activated b-by cutting with a blade." Dazed and exhausted, Izuku was slow to recognize the subtle shift in Endeavor's expression, and by the time he had it had already been wiped away.

"Hm. Thank you for your cooperation," Endeavor muttered, his tone so slightly off that Izuku couldn't muster the energy to analyze it any further. He didn't even watch the pro hero stalk off to presumably reconvene with his sidekicks. His head was swimming, the constant throb of his broken arm drowning out every other thought until they could barely murmur beneath the choppy surface.

The piercing drone of ambulance sirens suddenly came into focus, trailed by a squadron of police cruisers. The strobing red and blue light that flooded the street made Izuku sick to his stomach, but he managed to shove it down with the weight of his relief. He was pliant and acquiescing when one of the paramedics was directed his way, looking over his injuries wth professional aptitude.

There was a node of bleeding empathy that demanded he cast aside the weight of his injuries and apologize to his friends, but he was unable to find the energy. He was dull eyed and hazy minded as he was loaded into the back of the ambulance with Iida and Todoroki, too weak to even lift his head in an effort to make eye contact. Soaked by blood and painted in bruises, his right arm shattered and useless and his throat as raw as broken glass, Izuku couldn't muster any more strength; all he wanted was for the night to finally end.
--
"-yeah, I-I'm s-sure m-mom. I-I'll be fine." Izuku Midoriya put a hundred and ten percent effort into offering his mother a reassuring smile, and managed to convert it to roughly sixty percent actual effectiveness. It was more of a struggle than usual, when it came to putting on a brave face and acting like everything was alright. He shifted uncomfortably on the stiff hospital mattress, stark white sheets thrown over his legs and buzzing fluorescent lights throwing the already sickly green walls into nauseating relief.

He'd been... somewhat incoherent, after the events of the night in Hosu. He'd passed out in the back of the ambulance, only to wake up after extensive surgery on his shattered hand from a drug fogged slumber to find himself swaddled in starched, medicinally scented sheets with Iida and Todoroki populating the other two beds. He'd been informed that he needed at least a bare minimum of one week mandatory rest for his injuries to heal up before he could be treated further by Recovery Girl, which meant the heavy fiberglass cast and sling his right arm had been constrained in wouldn't be coming off for a while.

In the meantime, he'd been infested with a strain of malaise that crept into every nook and cranny that had been vacated by mortal terror. If not for the cocktail of drugs he'd been given, Izuku doubted his sleep would have been even remotely restful. Every hideous moment of that night wormed its way behind his retinas, flashing in sickening splatters of visceral horror for the few brief moments he allowed his mind to wander. It was for that reason alone that he almost welcomed his mother's over-protectiveness, trading embarrassment and guilt for a taste of warm familiarity.

His mother's eyes softened, green pools that wavered and rippled with concern at their shores. "Alright sweetie, if you're sure. Just remember to call me if you need anything-I'll bring some lunch by for you and your friends tomorrow." Izuku's cheek burned with embarrassment when his mother stooped over the side of his bed to kiss the top of his head, and bit back a whine of protest. "I love you Izuku, I'll see you soon!"

"L-love you t-too mom, b-bye," he mumbled in return, pretending not to notice his mother wave goodbye at Iida and Todoroki as well, before she let the door click shut behind her. He sagged back into his stiff pillows a moment later, rubbing at his face with his uninjured hand. He'd only been awake for around... four hours, but he was already yearning for the call of sleep again.

"..S-sorry about th-that," he offered to the room at large, his voice soft and raspy, "s-she c-can be a little o-overbearing s-sometimes." Each word increased the pace of Izuku's violently thumping heart, hyper aware of their being the first words he'd spoken to his friends since the night before.

"It's no problem at all, Midoriya. Your mother seems like a very kind person." Iida sounded.. cordial, with no particular inflection or emotion present in his voice. It sent a pang through Izuku's chest, a slow twist that snapped cardiovascular vessels like old rope fibers. It made him want to cry out, to make right what had broken between them, but.. Izuku was afraid. Just like he always was.

Todoroki hummed in something that could have been construed as agreement from his own bed, forced to lie on his side to avoid agitating the wounds on his back. He looked... dull. Despite his vibrant coloration, everything about him seemed slightly muted when he was stranded amongst stark whites. His expression was as disinterested as it usually was, but the shadows under his eyes made it clear that the night had affected him as well. Izuku was at a loss for how to even begin reaching out to him-to either of them.

"H..h-how, uhm... i-is your arm-i-is it okay, Iida?" Izuku hadn't been able to see the aftermath of the severance and reattachment-the cutting point was hidden underneath Iida's hospital gown, along with the numerous puncture wounds and deep bruises that had been caused by his dented armor.

"As okay as it can be, I suppose." Iida mechanically removed his glasses rubbing at the space between his eyes. for a brief moment, his gown shifted, and Izuku caught a glimpse of molted scar tissue marring his shoulder, twisted and angry like barbed wire. His expression turned grave, and Izuku's heart plummeted along with it. "The doctors said I might have.. permanent nerve damage. Some numbness in my fingers, a detriment to fine motor control..." Iida's arm laid limply across his legs, digits half curled. He stared down at them with something so close to hopelessness that Izuku could hardly breathe.

"I-I'm s-sorry," he uttered before he could think better of it, drawing his legs against his chest to combat the murky coldness spreading throughout his chest. Tears oozed down his cheeks like pearl slugs, warmed through by sickly heat. "I-if I'd-i-if I was f-faster, I could h-have.. y-you wouldn't-" His voice hitched and cracked, broken through by a spiderweb of fractures that just barely held together.

"Midoriya..." Iida's expression faltered in stability for all of a moment before he broke eye contact, lips tightening and gaze firmly locked in his sheets. "I don't blame you for anything that happened. It isn't your fault. You don't... you don't need to make it your fault, either. So please, let's not talk about it, alright?"

"H-how can you say it i-isn't my f-fault? Y-you-I.." Izuku wiped fruitlessly at his face with his uninjured hand, and failed to cease crying. "I-I don't un-understand why-why you c-couldn't just t-talk to me. I-if you w-were so upset, s-so angry- I w-would have listened-"

"Midoriya-" Todoroki sat up, attempting to cut in, but Iida spoke up over him.

"I know that I can confide in you, Midoriya. I know that I can tell you anything, and you would listen. And that's exactly why I didn't." Iida's expression closed off even further, a wall of stone that, nonetheless, would not look directly at Izuku. "You have your own issues to worry about without trying to fix everyone else's. It would be unbecoming of me to bog you down further. So, as my friend, I hope you will respect my request not to talk about it." Izuku couldn't see-he couldn't see what expression Iida wore, if there was sincerity in his eyes, if he was hurting, if he was angry-

He couldn't see anything through his own tears, and the clanging echo that reverberated inside his head, that screamed 'You are not wanted'. Izuku muffled a sob in the palm of his hand, turning away in a vain effort to hide his tears. Shame and worthlessness twined like serpents in his stomach, twisting and churning until he thought he might be sick. He was-he had to say something, but...

Izuku couldn't find the words. He sat and cried in his hospital bed, choking on his misery, and silently wished for the pain in his arm to worsen a hundred-fold, just to feel something stronger than the ache in his chest.

Chapter 40

Chapter Text

Tenya Iida, by way of grief and anger fueling the flames of catastrophic regret, had lost himself. It hadn't been slow, or gradual; the moment he'd seen his brother, confined to a hospital bed with one arm and the light in his eyes snuffed out, he'd snapped. The weight he bared had been too much, and the resulting fractures had ground incessantly together with every passing moment. It was an ache he could not soothe, a wound he could not staunch, and it had driven him further and further into rage. He had strayed further and further away from what he was working so hard to become.

What sort of hero could he ever hope to be? What sort of hero would behave so irrationally, crippling his own academic prospects to hunt what might as well have been a ghost? What sort of hero abandoned his duty, turning his back on those in need to satiate his own thirst for revenge? What sort of hero assailed an unknown threat by himself, so blinded by rage that he could not see his own folly? ..What sort of hero was so callous and inconsiderate that he made his own friend cry?

Tenya failed to swallow the chain link knot in his throat, the rusted thing that wound throughout his moving parts and locked them into agonizing stillness. The sight of Midoriya's unconcealed tears multiplied the links exponentially, until he felt as if he might choke on them. Had he not known better, Tenya might have believed that Midoriya's frequent crying was merely a result of sensitivity; but he did know better. He knew that his friend was mere inches from the edge at all times, trembling to stand under the crushing weight anchored to his shoulders.

It was cruel of him to add to that weight. It was cruel to hurt him, to hurt someone that tried as hard as they could just to put on a smile for others. Tenya parted his lips to say-something, anything-but the tingle of raw nerves and fresh stitches holding together his upper lip brought with them a waterfall of dread, draped in crimson by the sanguineous blade of a butcher.

And then the moment slipped through his fingers, his nerves too damaged to grasp it. The door to their room slid open, and Iida struggled to swallow his guilt at the sight of Midoriya frantically wiping at his face with his one uninjured hand. That shame only redoubled at the sight of Manual stepping through the door, alongside a... much shorter man, also in full hero garb.

Shame flooded his insides like spilled coolant, icy and clinging to every crevice of his internal structures when Manual looked his way. He felt like a child that had done wrong, cowed and sick with guilt and fear to be chastised by a disappointed authority figure-

"The hell were you thinkin', you knucklehead! I could yell at you for hours over that stunt you pulled!" Tenya's disparaging thought process was interrupted by a raised, gruff voice, belonging to the aged hero clad in cream and yellow. He looked steamed enough to jump onto the side of Midoriya's bed and berate him from inches away, eyes narrowed at the shrinking teenager swamped in hospital sheets.

Before any escalation had a chance to occur, the hero's voice softened, and it occurred to Tenya that he must be the hero Midoriya had interned with, Gran Torino. "But you're still in one piece I guess, so I can't be too mad at you. Or at least, as close to one piece as you can be." Tenya could just barely make out the tail end of Midoryia's whispered apology, and Gran Torino's gaze lingered on the molted ring of bruises splashed across his throat. "How's your arm holdin' up, then? Still got all your fingers?"

"Tenya.." The sound of Midoriya and Gran Torino's conversation faded into the background at the behest of Manual's address, his voice lilted with uncertainty and something that bordered on disappointment. Tenya resisted the urge to cringe, the pangs of guilt in his chest ringing like wind chimes.

"I apologize, sir," he blurted out, a windfall of words rushing to soften the blow he knew was coming, "There is no excuse for my behavior, and I can never make up the harm I've done by acting so rashly and disobeying you. I'm sorry for disrespecting your authority." Tenya failed to maintain eye contact for more than a few seconds, which had the consequence of revealing how tired and worn Manual appeared, his eyes dulled and marked with bags. Manual had likely worked through the night, to clean up his mess.

Manual's lips quirked into a half smile, the humor lost in the gesture. "You're not the only one at fault, but I hope you understand how serious your mistake was. I'm sorry for my negligence as your supervisor, as well as.. your internship is being cancelled. You'll receive partial marks for your time with my agency, but I'm afraid that's where it ends. You have a lot of potential, Tenya. I hope you learn from this."

With his breath frozen to solid ice in his throat, Tenya stared blankly forward as he struggled to process the weight of Manual's words. Distantly, he was aware of Gran Torino announcing their departure, and the mention of other visitors. How... how could he have ever been so stupid, so blind? Every moment-he regretted every single moment since he'd heard, since he'd been told about Tensei's injury. His brother would be ashamed, wouldn't he? When he found out that Tenya had made such a terrible mistake, had thrown his own future to the wayside in the name of revenge..

He'd ruined everything in the name of his brother, and had ended up with nothing in return.
--
Izuku Midoriya didn't know what to do anymore. Thrashed and battered in the wake of a single night that had brought with it more horror and turmoil than he'd thought possible, he was left with only heartache, and not a single clue of how to fix everything that had gone so terribly wrong. But he had no choice in the matter, did he? Izuku had to fix things-even if he couldn't make things go back to how they had been, he couldn't stand to watch Iida silently crumble and close himself off. He.. they were friends, weren't they? Why couldn't Iida just talk to him? ...Did he not trust him anymore?

Izuku bit the inside of his cheek in a feeble effort to combat the poisonous thought, aware that the only chance he had of functioning whatsoever required him to operate under the assertion that Iida still considered him a friend. The alternative was too awful to consider.

Before he could speak up in an effort to dismiss the awful blankness that had crowded every inch of Iida's face, the moment of silence left in Gran Torino and Manual's wake was broken by the hospital door sliding open with enough force to rattle the frame. It allowed just enough room for Kirishima and Uraraka to burst through in an uncoordinated mess of limbs, followed momentarily by a monumentally more sedate Tokoyami. Flabbergasted by their sudden appearance (didn't they have internships surely they had gotten permission right were they even allowed to be here-), Izuku was unable to find words before Iida voiced his own confusion.

"Wha-what are you three doing here?" The confusion in his voice was palpable, and for good reason-how did they even know anything was wrong?

"We're here to check on you guys, since you apparently can't stay out of trouble without us around!" Uraraka's tone was fiercer than Izuku had been prepared for, loaded with admonishment between layers of concern and relief.

"There was a piece about the attack on the news this morning," Kirishima explained more clearly, settling on the edge of Izuku's bed in complete ignorance to how the pace of Izuku's heart quickened in his chest, "and they mentioned that three U.A. students had been involved. They didn't mention you guys by name, but since Iida was in Hosu and he and Midoriya weren't answering the group chat, it made it pretty obvious."

"He forgot to mention the part where he called the rest of our classmates as well, just to make sure." Tokoyami dragged over one of the chairs set against the far wall, settling primly into the space between Izuku and Todoroki's beds. He looked as sleek and unruffled as ever, but his movements were slightly sluggish, and he seemed to be blinking more frequently.

"You say that like it's a bad thing," Kirishima retorted, the slightest hint of embarrassment peeking through his worried expression. Izuku's breath caught in his throat when blood orange eyes turned his way, light refracting through crimson soaked prisms. "How badly did you guys get hurt?" A series of knots deep in his chest began slowly unwinding as he soaked in the warmth of their physical proximity, barbed ends smoothing down in contentment. In return they were replaced by a knot of tears, as an inkling of the importance he attributed to Kirishima's mere presence revealed itself.

He was so overwhelmed that he completely forgot to speak, and realized so only when Todoroki took up the initiative. "Iida and Midoriya received the worst injuries. Mostly breaks and fractures, as well as heavy bruising and moderate lacerations. Most of it will heal without complications." Todoroki spoke with a dry casualness, as if he didn't have three massive gashes (that would surely be debilitatingly painful without medication) down the entire length of his back. His eyes shifted so minutely that Izuku would have believed it a trick of the light, if he hadn't been looking in Iida's direction.

Lips tightening into a thin line, Iida picked up the thread of conversation without faltering. "Yes, nothing serious to worry about, though your concern is appreciated. However, I hope you all recieved explicit permission to take time off from your internships to come here! It would be shameful to-" Iida paused for half a moment, stumbling over his words before steamrolling right back through the interruption, "-to disobey instructions not only from U.A., but your chosen agencies as well!"

"Don't worry, we made extra sure to get permission, cuz' we knew you'd throw a fit if we didn't!" Uraraka grinned sweetly when Iida sputtered in response, sliding over to sit smoothly at the edge of his bed. "Gunhead was totally understanding, and gave me the whole day off!"

"Yeah, Mr. Fourth Kind was cool with letting me off the hook for a bit. Hopefully he's not too hard on Tetsutetsu while I'm gone." The second half of Kirishima's statement was more to himself than anything, and it was followed by a few moments of every head gradually turning toward Tokoyami.

Despite the lack of eyebrows, he was more than capable of expressing his exasperation with only his eyes and a drawn out sigh. "Grave Keeper is harsh, but she did not offer much resistance to my request."

"You know, speaking of internships, we ran into you guys' instructors on our way in-Manual, and that old dude." Kirishima gestured at Iida and Izuku with either hand, springs squeaking under him as he shifted to better face everyone.

"G-Gran Torino," Izuku supplied, his heart skipping a beat as he frantically attempted to unravel whatever point his classmate was working towards. If they'd talked about-

"Yeah, that guy! He uh.. well, we kinda asked about what had happened to you guys?" Kirishima flashed an already apologetic grin, showing only a sliver of teeth. "He didn't tell us, and neither did Manual, but the Torino guy said that it was kinda... under wraps? Like, not to spread it around or whatever? And that sounded kinda suspect, cuz' everyone already knows it was an attack by the League.. right?"

Izuku crumbled under the open worry in Kirishima's eyes, his smile slipping in increments for every moment that no answer was forthcoming. He didn't-what was he supposed to say? Gran Torino hadn't mentioned anything to them, the visit had been so quick was he not supposed to talk about it would there be ramifications if he did speak about it-

"Iida and Midoriya were attacked by an unknown villain during the incident," Todoroki supplied when it was clear nobody else would speak up, his tone carefully flat. "Midoriya sent out a message for help-" realization flashed through blood orange eyes and Izuku's heart twisted- "and I was close enough to assist. The villain managed to escape, which is, I assume, the reason Gran Torino requested you not spread it around. The authorities likely want to avoid a repeat of the sensationalism that cropped up with the Hero Killer-"

"Todoroki, it's alright. They deserve to know." Unease poured into Izuku's stomach in a river of tar-thick ichor, putrid and roiling as he watched Iida's facade splinter into yawning fractures. His right hand trembled where it lay upon the pristine sheets, fingers strained to form a tight fist. "The events of the other night were entirely my own fault. The villain I attacked-" Iida swallowed visibly, his expression twisting with turmoil, "the man who killed the Hero Killer.. the monster that hurt my brother-I attacked him, blinded by my own hatred. I'm the one responsible, it's my fault that Midoriya and Todoroki were injured! Because I was so caught up in revenge, so selfish that I-that I-"

Izuku burned with the need to interject, to say something, anything that could even come close to absolving Iida of his instability, of his mistake-but Iida didn't want that. Iida didn't want to talk to him, refused to confide in him because.. because- "W-why coudn't you j-just ta-talk to us?!" Izuku shot up as his desperation ignited, unwilling to let him keep still. He ignored Kirishima's concerned utterance of his name, words tumbling from his mouth in a tearful cacophony.

"Wh-why w-wouldn't you l-let me h-help you? I-I t-thought-" Izuku paused for a sliver of a moment, struggling to wipe his vision clear of frustrated tears. "D-did I-did I d-do something wr-wrong? D-do-I- w-we're fr-friends, a-aren't we?" His voice cracked like glass, still raw and aching, but he forced the words out, too weak to bite them back and lock them away. He stared imploringly across the room, his tears making the shine of Iida's glasses stretch and distort. "D-do you n-not trust m-me?"

Kirishima's voice attempted to cut through, a warm hand squeezing around Izuku's trembling shoulder. "Midoriya, it's okay-"

"That's not what this is about!" Iida's volume had risen to a near shout, pitched by a dissonant echo of Izuku's own frustration. "How could you even ask that?! Of course I trust you-"

"Uh, guys-" Todoroki's soft interruption was completely buried, nothing more than background noise.

"T-that's not wh-what it f-feels like!" Panic gnawed at the rotten base of his anger and helplessness, twining together like serpent carcasses. Everything was going wrong, everything was fucked up again because of him- "I do-don't u-understand why-why yo-you won't talk to m-me! I j-just want t-to help you-"

"This is getting out of hand, both of you need to take some time to calm down-" Even as he rose from his seat, Tokoyami's warning went unheeded.

"You're doing it again, you're making everything your own fault!" Iida's jaw clenched tight, but the sheen of tears behind his glasses was unmistakable. "I won't allow you. This is my mistake, and nothing you say will undo it, or make it any less my own! I know it was stupid, I know I should have come to you sooner, but thisisn't helping! Midoriya, you-"

Iida's torrent was diminished by the weight of Uraraka's arms gently wrapping around his shoulders, her cheek pressed up against the top of his head. "..I'm sorry you felt like you couldn't talk to us, Iida. I'm sorry you feel like you can't talk to us now." Despite the soft, almost mournful tone of her voice, her shoulders were set with determination. "But you're safe, and I'm really glad you're okay, and I want you to know that you can talk to us, whenever you change your mind, okay?"

She eased out of the hug a moment later, planting her feet on the ground and taking one of Iida's hands in two of her own. "C'mon, let's go grab something from the cafeteria. I think everyone needs a little bit to cool off." She tugged with enough force that he had no choice but to slowly slide out of the hospital bed, his gaze averted to the floor.

Izuku's heart sank into inky depths as Iida avoided even looking in his direction, instead following Uraraka's lead. "Yes, I.. think that's a good idea." He didn't look back as she slid open the door, flashing a small, reassuring smile back through the doorway before it slid shut again.

Stunned into stillness, fragments of thoughts whirled in a chaotic storm for dragging moments before a single unit was aligned. Beyond the faded echo of Iida and Uraraka's footsteps, Izuku suddenly jerked into action, boiling with the need to-do something, to follow, to say anything he could possibly think of. He slipped out from under Kirishima's hand before he had time to react, stumbling slightly from the unfamiliar weight of his cast before he rushed to exit the room, bare feet slapping against tile. Reflexive apologies spilled from his lips in hoarse whispers as he fumbled to slide the door open again, the frame shuddering as he threw it open with one hand.

"Crap. Midoriya, hey, wait!" The sound of Kirishima's shoes clacking against the floor was unmistakable, his hurried pursuit marked by the door opening once more, before it slammed into place a third and final time. Left in the wake, Tokoyami and Todoroki were mired in an awkward stillness, alone after a whirlwind of activity.

"...I always thought you were supposed to fill the angsty archetype of the group," Todoroki stated flatly, struggling to sit up without bothering his wounds.

Tokoyami huffed a single note of laughter, and managed a wry smirk. "A tragic day indeed, to see my dynamic so soundly stolen away."

Todoroki hummed in response, pleased that someone had actually laughed at one of his jokes for once. "You're not going after them, I take it?"

"No. At least, not today. Iida and Midoriya are both currently unable to see past their preconceived biases. I will certainly speak with them when the time is right, but for now, I leave them in more capable hands." Tokoyami settled back into his chair, one leg crossed over the other. "After all, illumination is hardly my specialty."

The corner of Todoroki's lip twitched upward, and he finally settled into a somewhat comfortable position. A comfortable silence descended on them, a thing that seemed prone to frequent returns. He wasn't in any particular hurry to break it, but there were some things that needed saying. "...I hope they actually bring back lunch. I'm hungry."
--
Izuku's frame shook with stuttering breaths, inhales so hungry to hitch and exhales slavering to crumple into sobs. But he couldn't let them, he had to hold on to his last unraveling strings of composure before he completely fell apart. He had to make things right with Iida, he had to help his friend, he had to fix things, he had to-

"Midoriya, wait!" A smooth, warm hand caught him around the wrist, gentle despite the thick fingers and corded muscle just below the palm. The familiarity was enough to make Izuku falter, if only for a moment.

But that moment was long enough for Kirishima to envelop him from behind, an arm wrapping over his torso and pulling him flush against a solid, comforting chest. Izuku made a feeble effort to pull away, his will waning for every moment that Kirishima held him close, and the sensation of familiar fingers carefully (always so careful) threading with his own was enough to sever it entirely. Izuku sagged back into him as if all his wires had been loosened, tears spilling freely down his face in defeated globs.

Cautious of the cast slung against Izuku's side, Kirishima gently turned him so that they could properly face one another, his arm migrating to provide a comforting pressure against Izuku's back. Eroded and exhausted, Izuku took advantage of the opportunity he was given, hiding his face against the fabric of Kirishima's jacket, his tears pouring in unrelenting rivers as hiccuping breaths shook him from head to toe. For the first time in days, Izuku was finally able to let go.

But despite the part of him that pleaded to stay wrapped in Kirishima's arms forever, content to soak in his warmth and forget the world, he had to force himself to act. "I-I'm sorry," he croaked, squeezing Kirishima's fingers in the hopes to make his apology feel impactful, instead of it being merely another of the dozens he gave regularly.

"Don't be, man. I know things are tough right now; I don't blame you for needing some stress relief." Kirishima's embrace regretfully ended a moment later, but the sight of his grin, soaked in sunshine and razor edges softened by affection was enough to assuage Izuku's grieving heart. "C'mon, let's find a place to sit."

Izuku's cheeks warmed with a heat unrelated to his crying as Kirishima's fingers remained linked with his own, a comfort and a tether both. He trailed after his classmate, opposite the way Iida and Uraraka had gone, and realized quickly that Kirishima's pace was slowed on purpose. Perhaps he might normally feel bad for being such a dead weight, but, tired as he was, he merely felt relief that he wouldn't have to struggle to keep up.

Kirishima led him out into an auxiliary sitting room, positioned near a set of elevators as well as a row of telephones. The padded chairs were turned to overlook Hosu, nearby buildings shining white from the midday sun. They possessed a faint, lingering warmth when he and Kirishima settled down, and Izuku spent a few moments merely staring out over the city as he organized his thoughts.

"I guess you feel responsible, right? For what happened with Iida?" Kirishima rested their linked hands over the arm rest separating them, his gaze momentarily pinning Izuku in place. It was so deep, so warm-like molten honey. He felt like he could simply sink into it and rest forever.

"I-I.. y-yeah. Of c-course I do," he murmured, hesitant to raise his voice again. His throat was exceptionally sore, and the doctors had warned him against speaking too much. Not that he could avoid that anymore. "He w-was hurting, and... and I k-knew something was wrong, b-but I just l-let him go. I d-didn't push hard enough. I s-should have done m-more."

"Do you think it would'a helped?" Izuku glanced up from where his gaze had drifted, and found a measured, thoughtful expression on Kirishima's face. Before he could answer, the opportunity was taken from him. "If you'd asked him one more time-if you'd asked him five more times if everything was okay, do you think it would've made a difference? Or would he have just gotten more closed off?"

"I-...I d-don't know." Izuku shook his head, something stubborn welling up in him. "B-but even if it might n-not have helped, I still s-should have done more. I s-should have tried harder."

"Honestly Midoriya, I dunno if there was anything else you could'a done at all. Even if you.. told Mr. Aizawa or something, Iida would have just told him the same thing, and been on his way. The bottom line is, you can't control a situation like that. Iida made his choice." Kirishima stroked a thumb against the back of his hand, and it did little to soothe his internal ache.

"I.." Izuku blinked hard to dissuade any further tears, sniffing and leveling out his breathing. "I just h-hate seeing him l-like this. A-and I d-don't know h-how to fix it." He attempted to shift his broken arm in a reflex to wipe at his eyes, before remembering a moment later that the cast was still on.

Kirishima's sympathetic smile dimmed into something sadder, more fragile. "I know. I know you're worried, and upset. I am too-we all are. It's just..." Kirishima mulled over his words for a moment, thumb stroking over Izuku's hand in slow, repetitive patterns. "Blaming yourself isn't going to make him feel better. Okay?"

Izuku went still, gears clicking and clicking as he processed Kirishima's words, running them through with a fine toothed comb. He.. of course, of course that made sense. He hadn't-he'd just wanted to somehow relieve Iida's burden, and taking it on himself had seemed like the right thing to do, but... but that wasn't the help he needed.

Kirishima's voice penetrated his realization, all soft syllables and warm undertones. "And hey, no matter what happens, I know Iida isn't mad at you or anything. He'll talk to you when he's ready, I promise. You just gotta give him time."

"Y..yeah. Okay. Y-you're right," Izuku finally relented, his lips twitching to offer Kirishima a reassuring smile. The redhead grinned liquid sunlight back at him, and squeezed his hand tightly.

"Good. Now c'mon, let's see if that cafeteria food is worth eatin' or not. And if it's gross, I'll pick something up for everyone, my treat." Kirishima practically jumped out of his chair, resplendent when he was once again imbued with his natural enthusiasm. Izuku couldn't believe he hadn't noticed its absence before.

He flashed another smile, a small, crooked thing that he hoped could represent even an inkling of the relief that surged through his heart. "Y-yeah, that s-sounds good." Everything would be okay-he just needed to give it time.
--
"-nly days after the shocking death of the Hero Killer Stain, perpetrated by the League of Villains, is speculated as a response to the Hero Killer's murder-"

The television fuzzed and blinked as Tomura Shigaraki hammered his thumb onto the remote, his rigid pinkie the only digit not wrapped furiously around the hunk of plastic. It was warmed through by the heat of his palm, and the casing creaked warningly from how tightly he squeezed it.

"-arned that a potential rise in Hero Killer copycats could be headed our way, emboldened by the League of Villains' attack in Hosu City-"

The plastic casing of the remote snapped along one seam as Tomura violently cut power to the television set, the device slipping from his fingers as they began trembling uncontrollably. How, how how HOW could he be IGNORED- "What a fucking circus," he hissed through his teeth, jaw wired tight and teeth grinding together. Uncaring of the remote clattering against the hardwood floor, Tomura knotted four fingers through his hair, pulling and yanking until the burn in his scalp could eclipse the caustic sizzling in his veins.

He was unsuccessful. Tomura ripped the hand out of his hair in favor of slamming it onto the bar top, hard enough to make his empty glass rattle. He could half see Kurogiri standing dourly from his peripheral vision, and the sight of empty yellow eyes made his skin itch. "The Hero Killer," he sneered, barely paying mind to not rot a hole through the bar, "what a mess he left us." Everything itched without Father's embrace, and his neck was still wet with blood from his own fingernails. He'd been incessant, unable to focus on anything but his own anger and that damnable itch. "Even his corpse makes the news, and we're treated like fanboys."

It made him so angry-everything was making him angry lately. Everything was too bright, too dark, too loud, too quiet, too hard, too soft-he couldn't stand it any longer. Even the sight of Kurogiri just standing there, like nothing MATTERED like it wasn't IMPORTANT like he had BETTER THINGS TO DO-

Tomura's paper thin reign on his impulses disintegrated, and before he could think past the malignant, growing rage crowding his skull, he had already wrapped his hand around his glass and hurled it at the wall. He'd barely managed to decay half of it, the remaining chunks shattering into shards from the violent impact. "WHERE IS HE?!" He screamed, and it made his raw throat ache. Frustration had been clawing and gnawing and scratching and biting, and his only way of fighting back had been screaming until his throat was as bloody on the inside as it was on the outside.

"Patience, Shigaraki," that fucking condescending shadow hummed, his yellow eyes narrowed into slits. His leather shoes clicked against hardwood as he stepped out from behind the bar, likely to fetch a broom and dustpan to sweep up the detritus caused by Tomura's rage. The nonchalant chastisement was infuriating-he wasn't an idiot child to be patronized by some-some keeper.

Tomura hardly had anything left to snap, but an echo of such things was felt nonetheless. "You don't seem to be getting how this works. You listen to me, got it...? Otherwise... otherwise..." Without any thought, without any acknowledgement, Tomura's fingernails dug into the skin of his throat, peeling apart scabs and dried skin alike to unleash another deluge of sluggish, trickling blood. In any other circumstances, he might not have been able to control himself-his wild impulse to leap forward and turn Kurogiri to dust would have become reality.

But the stump of his missing hand was useless, bound in layers of bandages that caused constant irritation and left him with nothing to do but seethe. He kicked off his bar stool in an abrupt movement, wood clattering to the floor as Kurogiri's practiced motions halted. His henchman(that's what he was just a pawn he had no right to speak to Tomura that way) stared him down with unreadable streaks of yellow smoke, no trace of fear wafting off of him. The only time Tomura had ever seen him afraid had been...

Tomura's outburst was halted by the sound of a warp gate forming behind him, near the bar's entrance. He ripped his hand away from his throat after a single moment longer of sneering at Kurogiri, before he turned with twitching impatience towards their expected.. guest.

"Shigaraki." That voice scraped against the inside of his ears like fish hooks, tinny and hollow and echoing off the inside of that hideous mask. Mincemeat. The Butcher. The fucking ingrate that had taken two hands from him. Normally, Tomura might find vicious delight in the dent that caved the side of that mask inwards, curving the side of a false mouth down into a sneering frown. But the presence of an inky black arm clutched in one leathery hand reminded him of his loathing, a spitting, frothing hate that he could barely contain.

"Where. Is. It?" Tomura ground out through his teeth, trembling with the urge to disintegrate that mask along with the head underneath, to make Mincemeat pay for daring to attack one of his Noumus-

The meaty thud of his Noumu's arm slapping against the floor made him twitch with fury, but he didn't dare to unmake the ingrate in front of him, not while he still had something Tomura needed.

He watched with growing impatience as the hulking villain dug into a pouch on his belt, extracting a much smaller lump, wrapped in cloth. "Step closer, so that I may reattach your hand." Tomura glared at the emotionless mask, stepping around the severed arm that had clearly been placed in his path. He thrust out his stump once he was as close as he was willing to get, just outside the range where he would be most tempted to start disintegrating.

"Make it quick-" Tomura nearly bit his tongue when Mincemeat wrapped iron band fingers around his wrist, yanking him forward another two steps. Before his rage had a chance to truly unearth itself, he'd been released, and a knife had replaced his arm in the maniac's grip. He deftly sliced away the bandages keeping Tomura's stump protected, revealing the angry, puckered flesh to the bar's dingy lights. With more grace than Tomura had expected of Mincemeat's brutish hands, he slid away his knife and unwrapped the severed left hand, which showed no signs of decay or necrosis-it almost looked healthier than the hand that was still attached.

With a flick of his wrist, Mincemeat almost screwed Tomura's severed hand back on to his stump, a process that would have been fascinating if not for the reigniting of every nerve above his left forearm into searing agony. Flesh unraveled in petals of glistening meat, a core of bone peeking at open air before it met his stump. A single sheet of blood flow oozed from the combining flesh to spatter on the floor, before the seal was finished. The shock lasted just long enough for Tomura to strangle a scream into a growl of pain, and then he was left with nothing but the aftershocks and the return of his left hand.

Backpedaling away from the other villain, Tomura critically inspected his hand, flexing his fingers and tracing the ring of scars around his wrist-they were twisted and gnarled, akin to a shackle of thorns. "The process is not perfect. You may experience minor loss of sensation, and trouble moving your fingers."

Oh. Right. He was still there. "Thanks for nothing," Tomura snapped at the stoic butcher, his patience thinning into nonexistence. "Kurogiri, get rid of him. If I ever see you again, I'll kill you."

Mincemeat stared down at him impassively, only serving to further fuel the fire of his anger, before a warp gate opened up behind him. At the sight of the villain's turned back, a thought occurred to him, and he voiced it before it could be filtered. "Did you at least kill the brat, you useless fuck?"

There was a pause, less like a mind mulling in thought and more like a machine processing a request. That damnable mask turned over a bulky shoulder, and Mincemeat's flat, hollow voice rang out through the bar for the last time. "No. Izuku Midoriya has incredible potential. It is no wonder youfeel so threatened by him."

Mincemeat vanished through the warp gate, deaf to Tomura's scream of rage, and the partially disintegrated bar stool hurled at his back was left to splinter against the floor.

Chapter 41

Chapter Text

Izuku lingered nervously on the front steps of Gran Torino's apartment, his left arm shaking with the effort to keep his costume case from pulling him to the ground and his right still confined within its cast. A portion of his nervousness stemmed from the knowledge that, at any moment, a piece of debris could fall off the building and land on his head, but the majority came from seeing Gran Torino for the first time since he'd visited the hospital. He'd been the furthest thing possible from an exemplary pupil, and knew that any displeasure or criticism Gran Torino might have would be entirely warranted. Though that certainly wasn't to say he was looking forward to it.

The seconds that slipped by as he waited for Gran Torino to return with the rest of his things (he'd insisted on carrying them himself with enough finality that Izuku's protests had fizzled out before he could even open his mouth) only further facilitated the buzzing, agitated thoughts swarming in his head, reminding him of all the little things that had gone wrong beneath the surface, things that couldn't be fixed by a few nights in the hospital.

Iida had been discharged on the third day of their stay, late in the afternoon. His wounds, while not exactly minor, had at least not required any form of surgery (save the minor stitching in his lip), and he'd been cleared to head home for the rest of his recovery. They hadn't spoken much, but he'd made sure to say goodbye and had promised to see Izuku and Todoroki both back at school, which was at least a little progress.

Todoroki had left a day later, having been kept only long enough to be sure he was in the clear of developing an infection. Izuku had managed to coax a promise of getting lunch out of him once they were back in class, and then he'd been left achingly alone until the very end of the weekend. His mother had picked him up and fussed over him until he was afraid he might miss the train to Gran Torino's prefecture, soothing her with promises that he'd be back before dark.

"Well, here's the rest of it kid." Gran Torino's voice snapped Izuku from his thoughts, and he glanced up just in time to have his backpack flung over his head. He yelped in shock, carefully setting down his costume case to remove it, struggling to untangle a strap that had caught painfully on his ear. "Better make sure everything's in there; it'd be a real pain to have to send you missin' socks in the mail, or somethin'."

"A-h, t-thanks, I w-will." Izuku fumbled with the zipper for a moment before managing to open his bag, carefully thumbing through the contents to make sure everything was present. He kept his gaze carefully adhered to it, too anxious to meet Gran Torino's gaze directly. "T-thank you a-again for having me, Mr. T-Torino. A-and thank you fo-for everything you've t-taught me." In the moment where Izuku should have simply bowed his head and let his temporary mentor say his piece, the swarm of insecurities nesting within him spilled through his lips. "An-and, uhm... I-I'm so-sorry for all the t-trouble I caused y-you as well. I-I should ha-have listened to you, and n-not been so r-reckless-"

"Alright, that's enough of that," Gran Torino interrupted gruffly, his mask creasing from his narrowed expression. It wasn't quite exasperated, but it was certainly enough to dissuade Izuku from speaking further. "We've already been through this, so how about we skip the song and dance?"

Izuku's shoulders slumped, and he bit his tongue to stifle an apology as he nodded in understanding, eyes locked on the ground. Gran Torino sighed, his previously clipped tone smoothing out a little. "Listen kid, we both know you made a mistake, but you're also in a much better position than you were a week ago. You're getting a handle on your Quirk, and you understand what you did wrong. So quit apologizin'; the longer you spend feelin' sorry, the less time you'll have to learn from it. Got it?"

Izuku swallowed (alleviated, finally, from the bulk of the pain he'd been in) and nodded again, fighting to calm the nervous puttering of his heart. He raised his head in a marked effort to meet Gran Torino's gaze, offering up a shaky smile. "Y-yes sir. T-thank y-you again Mr. T-Torino!"

The retired pro waved a dismissive hand, though he didn't look displeased. "Yeah, yeah. Get on your way kid, I'm sure you got more important things to do than chattin' up an old curmudgeon."

Izuku froze for a second, unsure if he was supposed to agree or not, before he decided to simply bow at the waist to avoid the chance of being scolded. He swallowed the urge to thank Gran Torino again, knowing he'd be there all day if he kept that sort of thing up, and instead attempted to sling his backpack on without jostling his cast. He offered an awkward looking wave with his arm still tangled in the straps, scooping his costume case off the ground and stumbling as it nearly toppled him over.

"T-take care, Mr. Torino!" He called over his shoulder, already attempting to plot the most time effective route possible back to the train station, hyper aware of the position of the sun in the sky. He probably could get back home before dark, but he'd undoubtedly be cutting it close considering his slowed pace due to his unusable arm and excess of possessions which also kept his only open hand occupied and if he ever had need of it he'd have to wrestle further with his already too-heavy costume case maybe he could call in and get a lighter case honestly it was a little unnecessary-

"Hey, kid!" Izuku turned his head in confusion, only to blanch at the wide, empty grin Gran Torino was wearing. Before he could even stop to figure out why the old man was playing senile again, he was interrupted. "What was your name again?"

Izuku balked in shock and sinking despair-was Gran Torino just making fun of him again? Was that his way of expressing how disappointed he was in having such a useless under study? "I-it-it's I-Izuku Midoriya s-sir-" Tongue looped into knots, he had no chance to voice his stark confusion-

"No, that's not it.." Gran Torino trailed off with a peculiar lilt to his voice, his smile vacant but his shrewd gaze glittering with mirth and anticipation. He.. was he, did he mean-?

Realization washed over him in a shower of shooting stars, his chest filling with iridescent baubles of relief until it felt like he might simply burst apart. Shame and despair burned away in solar brilliance, and Izuku's trembling lips were crafted into his most earnest grin. "I-I'm Starburst!" Izuku grinned so wide he could barely keep his eyes open, the nebula of his heart twinkling in cosmic radiance.

Gran Torino smirked proudly as the afternoon sun caressed the blossoming peaks of the city skyline, and Izuku Midoriya set off into the world with the cosmos trapped in his eyes, and his chest bursting with stars.
--
"It's good to see you again, Izuku. How was your internship?" Ms. Atsuko smiled pleasantly, her dark painted lips contrasting against the stark white of her teeth. While she had been slightly intimidating at first, her relaxed demeanor and frank manner of speaking had done quite a lot to make Izuku feel more comfortable in her presence over the last few months. Her Quirk had also worked wonderfully to help ease some of the pressure of sharing his thoughts, more of a gentle coaxing that he could relax into than anything as terrifying as a power that forced him to tell the truth.

"T-terrifying. Invigorating. I-Illuminating. ..M-more complex than I c-can properly describe in only a few adjectives because there were a number of very starkly different events that occurred very quickly, and I'm still trying to come to terms with everything." Izuku sighed in serene contentment, fingers drowsily running along the edge of a throw pillow. It hadn't ever been mentioned outright, but he knew Ms. Atsuko changed her pillows every few visits for his own sake. He hugged the beaded throw pillow to his chest, the moody atmosphere of the office combining with the side effects of Recovery Girl's Quirk to the point that he was about ready to fall asleep.

His arm was still very tender and sore, and she'd warned him repeatedly against overusing it as well as giving him a brace to wear at night. He'd only have to wear it for a few more weeks, as long as he was careful. Hopefully he'd have the chance to give it time to recover; he could only pray that All Might went easy on them in class.

"It must have been quite eventful, then." Ms. Atsuko crossed one leg over the other, her clipboard set off on a low, petite coffee table. She only ever used it for bi-weekly mood assessments, at least after the first few visits. Having his feelings tallied up and measured was still a little disconcerting, but he supposed even something as nebulous as emotions were just hard science and numbers at their core.

Izuku uttered a huff of laughter, gently testing the limits of his freshly healed fingers. They twinged a little every time he formed a full fist, but otherwise felt mostly okay. "T-that's one word f-for it, I guess. B-but, uhm... B-before we g-get into that..." A thorn of anxiety attempted to puncture the fragile skin of his tranquility, and Izuku stubbornly pushed it back. "I-I wanted to t-talk to you a-about.. getting on m-medication." He cast his eyes across the room, staring intently at a piece of art that would probably take him several long minutes to even begin to decipher. "I-I don't think I can k-keep going w-without.. without something. I-I keep having b-bad mood swings, a-and it's been harder t-to, uhm... pr-prevent panic attacks."

Ms. Atsuko pursed her lips, and Izuku attempted not to cringe at the realization that he hadn't been able to keep a current of shame out of his voice. "You've mentioned your mood swings before. 'Sudden dread, increased depressive symptoms, a strong sinking feeling'?" Izuku nodded hesitantly, and she crossed her legs again. "I'm very happy you're willing to try medication, Izuku. Improvements won't happen overnight, but if we find the right combinations of medications and adjust dosages as needed, I promise you'll feel much better."

Izuku sagged into the couch a little when he was presented with a proud smile, the tips of his ears burning as he pressed his face into the pillow. "Y-yeah. I-I, uhm, t-talked to my mom about it t-this morning, and, uhm-t-told her you'd c-call."

"I'll be sure to do so the moment our session ends. I'm proud of you for taking this step, Izuku." Ignoring the flush that persisted on his face, she shifted a little in her recliner, fingers steepled over one knee. "But before you head off to class, I'm curious to know the events that lead to you making the morning news." Her lips quirked into a painted smile, concern and amusement both glittering in her eyes.

Izuku tittered out a nervous laugh, organs slithering into the pit of his stomach as he was doomed to recount the events of the last week. Well, the relaxing had been nice while it lasted. "A-ah, well, a-about that..."
--
Izuku's first steps back into the 1-A classroom were almost surreal; the sight of his classmates laughing and chatting about their internships in light hearted camaraderie felt like a separate realm from the pit of burning blood and frigid moonlight he'd crawled his way out of. It was as if the events of the last week hadn't even taken place, left even without dreams to haunt. He wasn't naive enough to think himself past it, of course, but to have it done and gone was enough for the moment.

He caught a snippet of Asui, Ashido, and Jirou's conversation about drug smuggling(?!)on his way in, and waved shyly when Ashido's striking eyes met his. Her returning grin was all teeth, but before she could greet him Asui had turned her head to inquire something. "How was your internship, Ochako?"

Izuku almost jumped at the sight of Uraraka, throwing quick, controlled punches at the open air as her entire being seemed to glow with an inner fire. "A new world is within my grasp," she intoned with crushing gravitas, and Izuku was torn between being either terrified or mortifyingly awestruck. She'd seemed a little more sure of herself when she visited, but seeing her like that..

Flustered, he scanned the rest of the room, eyes catching on a shock of purple hair. Shinsou was boldly perched on top of Kacchan's desk, who looked (unsurprisingly) furious. What was surprising was that Shinsou (who looked half dead-if Izuku had thought he looked tired before, post-internship Shinsou appeared to lack all knowledge of sleep whatsoever) didn't appear to be the object of his ire. It was, more than likely, the state of his hair that was pushing all his buttons, considering it looked almost glued to his head instead of the usual wild spikes.

Izuku almost considered going over to say hello, but Shinsou wore a scowl that could have stood up against one of Kacchan's on a good day, and Kacchan looked like he might combust if someone spoke to him. Maybe he could speak to them later.

Near the back of the room, the rest of his friends were gathered around Todoroki's desk, chairs pulled up so that they could sit closer. Kirishima spoke animatedly with one hand thrown around Iida's stiff but not unwelcoming shoulders, and Todoroki looked vaguely concerned whenever the redhead's one gesticulating hand came too close to his face. Tokoyami sat just close enough to be lumped in with them, his head tilted forward and his eyes firmly shut. Apparently, Shinsou wasn't the only one that hadn't been getting much sleep.

Before he could work his way through the room to join them, a flash of blond hair caught his eye, and he was beholden to the sight of Sero practically pushing Kaminari out of his chair. The blond gave him a pouty glare in return, but Sero merely raised an eyebrow and kicked at his leg.

"Ow, okay okay I'm going!" Kaminari put a safe distance between himself and Sero, and were it not for her ear jacks whipping through the air, Izuku would have missed the way Jirou's head snapped in his directions, staring firmly at the blond. Kaminari's annoyance was replaced by visible jitters, and he faltered on his next step before quickening his pace.

"Uhh.. hey, Midoriya, can I talk to you for a sec?" He flashed a grin like he was being held at gunpoint, eyes darting in Jirou's direction in a way that made Izuku nervous by association.

"..Y-yeah, sure." He and Kaminari hadn't spoken much, since the incident at the USJ. It wasn't for any grudge on his part-he could understand the other boy's incredulity, even if he was hurt by the thoughtlessness-but seeing Kaminari grow more bitter and belittling in his treatment of Kacchan as his childhood friend closed himself off in an effort to recover had made it difficult to want to talk to him. Kacchan didn't deserve that. Two wrongs didn't make a right.

Kaminari's moments-from-death smile relaxed a few notches, remorse creeping in to cozy up in the cracks. "So.. listen, man, about... you know, what I said at the USJ..." He faltered for a moment, and Izuku attempted to construct a careful smile, in hopes of reassuring him. Kaminari looked vaguely ill. "I didn't really... give you a very good apology, did I? So like, I wanted to say that I really am sorry, man. I never meant to hurt your feelings, but that-" His eyes flickered to the side for a moment, like he was searching for help. "-It doesn't excuse me being an idiot. So... yeah. I'm really sorry, and I totally understand if you're still pissed off at me."

"N-no, it's..." Izuku cut himself off before he could rush to assure Kaminari that everything was fine and no apology was needed. He.. he did deserve one. So instead he carefully tweaked his smile, hopefully conveying his sincerity. "Th-thank you. I accept your apology. I know you d-didn't really m-mean anything by it. B-but, uhm... I t-think the person you s-should really be a-apologizing to is Kacchan. Y-you don't have to like him, b-but making f-fun of him doesn't h-help anyone. I-I'd really a-appreciate if you... d-didn't do that anymore. O-okay?"

Kaminari stared, wide eyed, as if he'd suddenly been confronted with an oncoming train. His stupor lasted only a moment, before he visibly attempted to compose himself. "Ye-yeah, no problem man! I.. you're totally right. I've been a huge tool lately. I'll apologize to him." Kaminari glanced not-very discreetly over his shoulder, and Izuku followed his gaze to where Kacchan was glaring with the heat of a nuclear reactor. "U-uh, but maybe later."

"L-later is good," Izuku agreed, the tension in his chest loosening in smooth increments. That was-a very promising start to the day. Maybe things would go well for once.

"Oh hey, by the way," Kaminari continued, his voice raising slightly as he focus expanded to include everyone in earshot, "did you guys see that creepy video going around online? It's from the night everything went down in Hosu, but it's really weird."

A few pairs of eyes shifted towards Iida, who remained stoically still in his seat. "Oh yeah, weren't you in Hosu for your internship, Iida? Did you see what happened?" Ashido's curiosity was uncontested by her typical zeal, perhaps in an attempt to remain respectful.

Izuku stiffened, his injured fingers twitching in a half-realized effort to clench into a fist. The news report, what Gran Torino had said... it might be bad news if it got out that they were involved.

Unfazed, Iida merely adjusted his glasses, the snag in his lip from his removed stitches only visible if you knew to look for it. "I was present in Hosu at the time, yes, but I had no real involvement in the incident. I don't know anything about a video, but I doubt strange things floating around online are very trustworthy."

"It's dated on the same night," Kaminari defended, pulling out his phone and swiping past his lock screen. Several bodies curiously drifted over to him, and Izuku hurried over with dread welling in his gut. Had someone been present to record footage of what happened? Could it incriminate them? "Here, check it out. But uh, fair warning, it's pretty brutal."

Kaminari's screen went black for a split second, before the video snapped to life in a crackle of static. Shaky footage of an empty street came into focus, lit only by the moon and neon signs on storefronts. The camera was pointed at a blank wall for several long moments, but a voice was audible from off screen. "-isgusting abomination. It would be a mercy to cleanse you from this earth."

The voice was seething with fury, echoing off the asphalt with a metallic tinge present in each trembling word. The camera shook as a shrieking, inhuman screech clamored to fill every inch of empty air, and the feed was a blur before it was readjusted.

Izuku's throat constricted with primal fear. The noose of his esophagus strangled every fiber of organic tissue that allowed him to draw breath, his own shocked inhale ringing in his ears. Mincemeat became centered in frame, cast in silhouette by a buzzing advertisement across the street. He was still for only a moment, before he was engulfed in a dark mass of shrieking rage. Pulsating gray matter peeked between mangled yellow teeth from its resting place in the floor of the Noumu's broken mouth, visible for only a few moments before its reckless charge was answered.

The tarry body slid backwards, bare feet peeling up concrete like paper, and a blur of motion followed too quickly for the camera to pick up. The sounds of wet, slopping flesh pulsated through the speakers, and the camera dipped for a moment before shakily refocusing. The Noumu's arm had been nearly cleaved apart, hanging by mere threads at the elbow. It shrieked in upset as the tarry flesh boiled and bubbled, surging forth in a wet slosh to snap its arm back into place.

"Annoying." Mincemeat's cleaver rose into the air, dark with the Noumu's blood. The camera caught the instant he brought it down on his own hand, splitting the silhouette of his arm from palm to elbow in a gush of dark fluid before the feed abruptly cut out. A few seconds of black silence followed, before a replay icon blinked to the forefront.

"Dude, what the hell?!" Sero's voice was the first to break the dim, disturbed silence that had settled over the handful of students gathered around Kaminari. "Why would you show us something that messed up, man?"

"Without sufficient warning, at that," Ojirou muttered, his gaze averted to the wall in clear discomfort.

"Where did you even find this video?" Jirou's question was almost accusatory, and Kaminari bristled defensively.

"You guys are missing the point! This guy-whoever he is-he was therethat night, but there's no mention of him on the news, and this is the only video of him! And there's other rumors too, about an 'unknown villain' that showed up. So like, why wouldn't anyone be talking about it on the news? Why haven't the pro heroes said anything?" A few murmurs followed Kaminari's speculation, and he began looking more self assured.

"Maybe there's a good reason for that." A few heads turned, Izuku's own lagging slightly as he struggled to overcome what he had seen, to find Todoroki had risen from his seat. His expression was perfectly blank, neither cold nor incensed. "I doubt that the pros would be unaware of another element to the attack, especially one that could simply be posted online. There's likely a very good explanation for why it hasn't been reported on. A reason that the pros would want to keep it under wraps."

Kaminari's eyes widened, stricken, and he glanced back down at his phone. "Oh, man... so like, you're saying that maybe this guy is a super dangerous villain or something?" Todoroki shrugged mildly, and it did little to ease Kaminari's discontent.

"Whatever the case, we should at least bring it to the attention of Mr. Aizawa. If this is supposed to be a secret, then he needs to know about the existence of this video." Yaoyorozu, having smoothed out her previously sickened expression, spoke with an air of forced calm.

"Th-that's a good i-idea," Izuku forced out, his voice cracking with the effort it took merely to form words. "If th-the pros don't w-want this information get-getting out, th-then letting t-them know about t-this vi-video is p-probably for the b-best." Izuku swallowed hard, trying to stamp out the surge of bile rising in his gut, only to flinch when a hand wrapped around his own. He glanced quickly over his shoulder, heart stuttering at the sight of warm, vermilion eyes. Kirishima smiled reassuringly, and some of the tension drained out of Izuku's wire-taut frame.

"Yeah, alright." Kaminari sounded mostly convinced, glancing momentarily down at the dark screen of his phone before looking back up. "Sorry for uh... you know, not really saying how gross it was-"

The sound of the classroom door sliding open cut off Kaminari's apology, and eighteen heads turned to watch Mr. Aizawa shuffle into the classroom. It took about three steps for him to visibly realize that it was not only silent in his classroom, but everyone was staring at him. He glanced up over the folds of his scarf, one eyebrow rising to be lost under his fringe. "...What happened?"

Izuku's eyes flickered towards Kaminari, and he noticed a few others turn their attention to the blond as well. He looked stricken, and silence resumed for a moment too long before Jirou's ear jack zipped through the air to jab him in the back of the head. "Ow, okay, okay!" He turned back to meet the humorless gaze of their teacher, and Izuku shivered in secondhand intimidation as he watched Kaminari wilt. "Uhh.. sir, I found a video online that I think you need to see-"

"No," Mr. Aizawa stonewalled before Kaminari could finish speaking, his expression souring with a clear lack of amusement. "I'm not looking at whatever joke is on your phone. Everyone sit down, we have important things to cover today."

"Sir! It isn't a joke-Kaminari found footage from the attack in Hosu, video of a villain that wasn't covered on the news." Yaoyorozu spoke up, giving Kaminari a chance to crumple in relief. "We thought it important that you know about it."

"...Show me." Mr. Aizawa quickly stalked the length of the classroom, Mina and Aoyama hastily moving out of his way. Kaminari handed his phone over without resistance, and Mr. Aizawa stared down at the screen with a hard sheen in his eyes. Izuku shivered and squeezed Kirishima's hand as he was subjected to the sound of that voice again, and relaxed a little when smooth fingers curled around his own.

The video finished playing half a minute later, and Mr. Aizawa spent a moment studying the blank darkness on Kaminari's phone before handing it back over. "Thank you for bringing this to my attention. Now all of you find your seats; I'm going to make a quick call, and then we'll be covering the results of your field training."

Izuku's shoulders loosened a little, breaths coming a bit easier as their teacher headed back for the door. If the heroes already knew about Mincemeat, then things would be taken care of, wouldn't they? There was no way professionals couldn't handle him. He released Kirishima's hand, cheek heating up and a bashful smile crooking at his lips when razor teeth were flashed his way. Halfway back to his own desk Mr. Aizawa paused and turned his head, eyes collapsing into a darkness that wracked Izuku with shivers.

"This should go without saying, but none of you are authorized to speak of this. Any mention of this video will be met with severe repercussions." He slipped through the door in a flutter of scarves, and Izuku's stomach twisted into a mobius strip.

It was all under control.. wasn't it?

Chapter 42

Chapter Text

Sequestered away in the corner of the boy's locker room with his costume case in hand, Izuku decided to take a few moments just to breathe. Following the incident with the video Kaminari had found, he'd been left frazzled and shaken by Mr. Aizawa's grave warning and the implications of the volatile footage. His concentration had suffered as a result, and he'd been caught in a bit of a self-perpetuating cycle of being too distracted by his own anxiety to pay full attention to his classes, followed by struggling to catch up with whatever he'd missed being said and having to beg notes off of his friends during lunch. Thankfully Todoroki had been very forthcoming with his notes, even if he'd barely spoken and spent most of the time at lunch eating more food than Izuku could put away in a week.

At least during class with All Might, he wouldn't be expected to memorize how best to solve quadratic equations, or the incredibly particular and fickle grammar rules present in the English language. He'd just have to exercise his body and his Quirk, and practice quick and creative thinking under pressure. Hopefully it'd be enough to take his mind off of everything; being sore and ready to fall asleep after class was a preferable state of being.

Careful to avoid straining his healing fingers, Izuku undid the lock on his costume case, propping it open against the bench closest to him and nervously beginning to disrobe. It wasn't that he was ashamed of his body (even though all his classmates were trim and fit and he was all awkward bony bits and stubborn baby fat), but Kacchan was still the only person he'd shown the scars on his torso to, and he'd really prefer to keep it that way, at least for the time being. He didn't really expect anyone to look, either-he'd already embarrassed himself almost to the point of tears by pleading to be left alone while changing when the school year began, though everyone had at least been understanding and agreeable about it.

Honestly, Izuku was simply unable to pinpoint the exact source of his nerves, and decided to simply chalk it up to a large number of contributing factors and get dressed as quickly as possible. Divesting himself of his school uniform, he carefully unpacked his Starburst costume and laid it out in order of adornment, adjusting zippers and slipping into his boots and meticulously securing every piece over the jumpsuit underneath. He swapped out the clips in his hair for the glittering star shaped ones, and frowned critically down at his blank mask. He really didn't need anything fancy-and so the simple addition of a curving black smile and yellow stars as dimples was more than enough to suffice-

"Whoa, Midoriya, is that really your new costume?" Kirishima's voice rang out through the locker room, a cut above the buzz of chatter that normally bounced off the tile walls. Oh, Izuku realized faintly, that was the source of his nerves. Kirishma's crow of astonishment caught the attention of several more of their classmates, and Izuku shrunk from the scrutiny until he was sure his armor would slip off.

"A-ah, yeah, it-uhm, c-came in d-during the internship," he mumbled into his mask, busying himself with securing it over his face to give his hands something to do other than fidget.

"Huh. I never would'a took you for the flashy type, Midoriya," Kaminari commented idly, his demeanor still a bit unsure after their talk earlier.

"Not as flashy as moi, of course~!" Aoyama struck a glamorous pose that went unseen by anyone else in the locker room.

Izuku nearly dropped his visor, hunching his shoulders and staring intently at the floor. "B-being flashy w-wasn't really th-the intention, i-it just k-kinda ended up th-that way."

"Having a costume that's both practical and visually appealing isn't anything to be embarrassed about." Todoroki closed his locker quietly, not looking up from where he was adjusting the canisters on his belt. "It's important to foster a positive image as a hero."

"A-ah... t-thanks Todoroki-" Izuku's stumbling attempt to accept the compliment(?) was foiled by the sudden weight of Kirishima's arm slinging around his neck, shaking him with such exuberance that Izuku was afraid of his eyeballs falling out of his head.

"You look so fricken' awesome, man! Totally manly!" Kirishima's enthusiasm was almost a tangible emission, so whole and blinding that Izuku could have believed he'd been swept into the sky by solid sunlight. He felt flickers of it deep in his stomach, the urge to simply be in Kirishima's presence and let the hours trickle away in a wash of liquid light. "Uraraka is gonna flip when she sees you. Oh dude, you should pose for a picture and I can send it to her!"

Izuku came back to himself a moment later, feeling almost dizzy with embarrassment as he ducked out from under Kirishima's arm so that he could flip the shiny, star shaped clasps on his mask shut. "W-w-we probably d-don't really have the t-time for that b-besides she'll be-be outside a-anyway so we should j-j-just f-finish getting ready f-for class.."

"Yeah, that's probably true." Kirishima didn't sound the least bit disappointed; his knife pointed grin remained firmly in place to pump out waves of exuberance. "Just promise that I get to be the first to selfie with the hero Starburst, okay?" Izuku's heart thump-thump-thumped nearly out of his chest as Kirishima flashed him a teasing grin, his cheeks dimpled and his eyes gleaming as though polished stones had been set into his head.

"Y-yeah," Izuku promised faintly, struggling to swallow down the lump of his heart and remember how to breathe at the same time, "p-promise."
--
"Welcome, all of you, back to Hero Basic Training! Feels like I haven't seen you all in months!" All Might laughed boisterously, the sun gleaming over his chiseled features and his fists planted heroically on his hips. He was the picture of heroism, a symbol of eternal pride and justice that helped take the edge off of Izuku's nerves. "Now, without further ado, let's get right into it! Today you'll all be running a little race, and I expect you all to apply everything you've learned from your internships in today's rescue exercise!"

"Sir!" Iida's hand shot up like a bullet-his left, Izuku couldn't help but notice. "Judging by the fact we aren't at the USJ facility, can it be assumed that this will be a different sort of rescue exercise?" He was the odd one out in just his gym uniform; his armor had been mangled well past the point of repair, and it would likely take a few weeks for him to get a new suit. But he still looked as stern and serious as he always had, and Izuku had to take it as a positive thing.

"Indeed you can! The USJ is specifically for disaster rescue, but this is a race!" All Might gestured widely at the massive set of steel plated doors behind him, leading into one of the city-block sized training grounds. "And Field Gamma is your race track! Within is a labyrinth of factories that will require all your cunning and agility to navigate! I'll separate you into groups of five, and each group will compete against one another! You'll begin on the outskirts of the field, and race to the middle, to see who can rescue me first!" All Might's words hung in the air for a moment, before he coughed into his fist. "And while I'm sure this goes without saying, I'd appreciate if you all did your best to keep property damage at a minimum." His eyes swept very deliberately over Bakugou (who snapped his teeth in annoyance) and Todoroki (who stared impassively), and Izuku nearly combusted from shock and shame when the hero's gaze landed on him as well.

"Well, that's all! Let's divide you all up, and I'll send the first group to the starting area!"

It made sense, of course, that All Might would be concerned about his Quirk causing damage-the only person at U.A. who had seen his new ability in action was Iida, and he'd probably only seen glimpses of it. Pushing down his irrational shame (his Quirk had been overwhelmingly destructive, there was no mistaking that) was easier than he'd expected, which only left him with the resurgence of nerves.

From what he could see of Field Gamma on his walk to the starting zone, it was broken up into different 'tiers' of varying heights using the different catwalks, piping, rooftops, and silos. It created an intricate network of narrow but usable footholds, large but jump-able gaps, and steep but climbable obstacles to provide an ingeniously designed test of mobility and flexibility. Izuku almost wanted to find out of the plans for it were available upon request in the school's database or not.

But a more immediate concern came with the still not inconsiderable amount of collateral his Quirk was capable of, even with his thinnest wire. It would easily melt through some of the more fragile pipes if he took too long to jump from them, which meant he'd have to time the uses of his Quirk more appropriately. He'd only been able to practice a little while with Gran Torino, but getting to actually use his hands opened up a world of possibilities, including micro-corrections in mid-air and giving him the safety net necessary to try creating air cushions to push himself even further without footholds-

"Everyone ready? On your marks, BEGIN!" The starting buzzer sounded and all of Izuku's jumbled thoughts zapped together into a lightning bolt that flashed under his skin, Living Nightmare surging to life in a great howling whirlpool of teeth. Izuku burst into a running start, focusing on keeping his breaths measured and even the way Iida had shown him as he neared the edge. Errant sparks swirled around his gloved fingertips, a system of nano-stars snapping to life as the raw, jagged power of his Quirk was smoothed and soothed and refined. Izuku took hold of the roaring darkness within him, and Starburst emerged in a rebirth of blinding brilliance.

A micro burst surged through his heels the moment after Izuku leaped, creating a cushion of cosmic burn off that clouded his armored boots in radiance. It thrust him up and forwards, an extension of strength beyond use of his muscles, and he caught a set of narrow pipes underneath him as if he were merely gliding overhead. Another jump, another burst through his soles, and Izuku was soaring. The wind ripped past him on his way, tousling his loose hair and providing little resistance against his unstoppable momentum.

Izuku sprinted across a catwalk for several long meters, thoughts flitting to remember exactly how Bakugou would angle his hands when using his explosions for mobility, and leapt with his legs already kicking as he pushed himself up, up, up. He wobbled in midair from bursting with only a single foot, but his palms lit up in crackling explosions as though he were bleeding firecrackers, angled to keep him steady and rising through the air. He forced his other leg up, channeled another burst through, and ignored the leaking of his eyes underneath his mask. Izuku was winning, he was so close to All Might, just a few more jumps and he could actually come in first. He vaulted over the guard rail of a silo, rattling its hollow interior with meteoric footsteps before he leaped again, clearing five body lengths as he pumped one leg and then the other in a makeshift double jump. Gravity tried to pull him down and the crosswind tried to push him off balance, but Izuku Midoriya ascended on a staircase of shooting stars, nebulae trailing in his wake-

Until his boot seared straight through a flimsy catwalk that was meant to be his next leg up, pitching him forward in a losing battle with gravity. He cracked his visor against the hand rail before sprawling over with a yelp of shock, his leg plunged clear through the catwalk throbbing from where the jagged grating had practically chewed his jumpsuit. "Ow, ow, ow," he bit out, rolling over to extract himself and scrambling to stand back up. He was pretty sure it hadn't broken fabric or skin, but his leg still ached badly enough that he had no way of winning anymore.

He heard the buzzer go off to announce a winner, and completed the rest of the race without the use of his Quirk. With all his fire and bravado snuffed out, Izuku carefully hauled himself up the side of the silo All Might was stood atop of, the fingers on his right hand twinging from the effort. His shoulders drooped when he saw Sero, Ashido, Ojirou, and Iida had managed to beat him there, though it really didn't come as much of a surprise after his blunder.

"And there we go, race complete! Thanks for the rescue, brave hero!" All Might flashed a thumbs up at the victorious Sero, who whooped and hefted his victor's sash above his head. "Despite young Sero coming in first, you're all winners in my book! It's incredible to see how much you've all improved since the start of the year! Keep giving it your all, and you'll be prepared for your final exams in no time!" Izuku managed a half smile under his mask, unable to find it in him to be too disappointed in losing-after all, it just meant his classmates had improved, too.

"All right, time to clear out group one! Group two, you're up!" All Might's magnified voice rang out again, and everyone began filing towards the incredibly convenient ladder on the side of the silo. Izuku waved a bit weakly at Ashido's grin and nodded back at Iida's cordial acknowledgement, limping over to the ladder. "Be sure to head to the nurse's office to get your leg looked at after class, young Midoriya." Izuku jumped a bit, glancing back at All Might to meet his teacher's gaze. All Might's grin was softer around the edges, less the permanent fixture of the Symbol of Peace and more a genuine expression. "And, more than that.. I'm very proud of how far you've come, young man. Both in the use of your Quirk, and your confidence in your own abilities. You're doing very well, young Midoriya."

Stunned by his teacher's smile, Izuku struggled to hold back a deluge of looping thoughts (ohmygodohmygodAllMightsaidhe'sproudofme) and instead ducked his head, face so hot he was surprised his visor didn't fog up. "T-thank you, s-sir. Th-that means-means a l-lot." Proud.. All Might was proud.

Izuku only hoped his visor could hide his teary eyes as well as his mask hid the grin on his face.
--
"Y-you don't have to worry a-about walking to t-the station with me, Tokoyami. I-I can tell you're still t-tired from your internship." Izuku glanced up from where he was carefully shoving textbooks into his backpack, and offered a crooked smile to his stoic friend. The afternoon sunlight streamed into the classroom from the open door, painting a rich orange rectangle that several of his classmates dipped in and out of as they prepared to leave for the day.

Tokoyami blinked down at him (though he honestly didn't have that much of a height advantage, even when Izuku was sitting) and offered a short hum, his arms crossed over his chest. He might not have had easily visible bags under his eyes to judge his level of exhaustion, but seeing him practically asleep in the morning and clearly flagging after lunch had been obvious enough. "Alone, a man will crumble to the emptiness of his stomach and the weight in his bones. Among friends, he may fight a hundred battles, and walk a thousand leagues." Tokoyami's words might have held the gravitas needed to sway Izuku's opinion on the matter, if he hadn't slipped into a yawn at the very end.

"T-that's really n-nice of you, but r-really, I'll be fine. Y-you should head home a-and get some sleep. W-we can meet up at the b-beach later this week." Izuku zipped his bag closed with some measure of finality, and watched the conflict play out in Tokoyami's dark, frequently blinking eyes.

Tokoyami looked like he was prepared to argue, but no words came. Eventually he released a relenting sigh, arms returning to his sides. "..Very well. I'll see you tomorrow, Midoriya. Please, stay out of traffic while I'm away." Tokoyami offered nothing more than a curt nod when Izuku sputtered in response, but he could swear his friend looked almost amused as he headed for the classroom's door, slipping out into the hall.

Izuku sighed and slumped into his seat, resigned to Tokoyami's rare but always flustering teasing, and began toying with the All Might key chain on his backpack. He didn't normally make a point of lingering after class-he usually had an appointment with Ms. Atsuko, or otherwise left with his friends the moment they were ready. But for once he didn't really have anyone to walk home with; Uraraka's parents were visiting, which meant she'd left early, Kirishima was going to a gym that Izuku didn't have a membership at, and he didn't feel it wise to confront Iida with anything more than safe school talk just yet. Normally he would have been a little disheartened to walk home alone, but he'd honestly been hoping to talk to-

"Not scuttling home just yet, Midoriya?" A deep, exhaustion-addled voice broke him from his thoughts, and Izuku glanced up in half surprise and half relief to find Shinsou's deep, half lidded eyes lazily sweeping over him. Up close, he looked even worse than he had earlier that morning; he looked wrecked, as though he could barely even keep his eyes open, the dark bruises under his eyes so stark he looked like he'd been sucker punched twice over. Hero Training had clearly worn him out, even though he'd actually looked interested in participating for once. "That's a surprise."

"A-ah, h-hey Shinsou! Y-yeah, I uhm... a-actually kinda w-wanted to-well, I mean, I-I was hoping I c-could, uhm-" Izuku floundered a little under his classmate's leaden gaze, failing to carefully order his words in a manner that would waste as little of Shinsou's time as possible.

"It's lucky that you stayed late, actually," Shinsou continued as if Izuku hadn't even bothered speaking, which was oddly something of a relief. The less time he had to embarrass himself in front of Shinsou, the better. "I've been meaning to talk to you. And so has the poster child for anger management," the general studies transfer gestured with a lackadaisical hand towards Kacchan's desk, and Izuku balked as Shinsou's comment clearly carried far enough for him to hear it.

"Fuck off," Kacchan barked, kicking his backpack to the side as he stood from his desk. The desks near him had all been vacated by that point, so there was at least little chance of collateral damage. "The fuck you call me? At least I don't look like I use cough syrup in place of conditioner, you fucking purple scarecrow."

Shinsou's previously dull expression lit up with a crawling smirk, amusement dancing in his eyes. He turned to face Kacchan directly, casually pulling his phone out of his pocket, and Izuku briefly wondered if U.A. had a fallout shelter in case of emergencies. "Oh no, how unfortunate-I seem to be about to send those pictures of your super embarrassing hairstyle to the entire class, instead of deleting them like I said I would. Wouldn't that just be so tragic, Kacchan?"

Kacchan went very quiet, his face screwed up in a vicious scowl and his eyes smoldering with caustic heat. But instead of the explosion Izuku was half expecting, the blond's mouth remained firmly shut. He very deliberately raised one hand to run through his chaotically spiked hair, and his roughly raking fingers came out as a single raised middle finger that he very specifically directed at Shinsou.

And, more bewildering than any other part of the already confusing interaction, Shinsou laughed. A low, satisfied chuckle spilled out of him, the smirk on his lips twisted into something more of a smile. "Well, if you're done being dramatic, get your crap and let's go-I'm not letting you waste the hard work I put in to capture green bean over here."

"Ca-capture?" Izuku sputtered, only to whip his head around at the sound of the bell to realize that it was definitely late enough that hanging around school was a bad idea without an appointment.

"Don't pay attention to a word that shithead says," Kacchan's voice cut through his alarm, and instead replaced it with a completely different sort of panic. Crimson eyes met with his own, and Kacchan's brows furrowed more in frustration than anger. "Just the first time you're actually alone. Can't ever fucking penetrate the wall of morons orbiting around you." Before Izuku could even produce a response, Kacchan hurriedly tore his gaze away and stalked back across the classroom to snatch up his bag, danging the strap off one shoulder. "Let's fucking go already, I have shit to do that doesn't involve fuckin' loitering."

"Finally talking some sense, huh?" Shinsou snickered at the furious glare sent his way, languidly grabbing his own things and pushing off from where he'd been leaning against Izuku's desk. "Well, you heard him, Midoriya. It'd be wise not to keep the princess waiting."

"YOU WANNA FUCKING DIE TODAY, CUZ' I'LL BE HAPPY TO OBLIGE YOU SHITTY RACCOON EYE LOSER!"

Izuku nearly fell out of his seat in his haste to gather his backpack and make a break for the door, unwilling to test Kacchan's extremely thin patience. "Y-yeah sure, I-I'd hate to miss my t-train!" He slid out the door with a nervous laugh, not unaware of Shinsou's loping strides and Kacchan's aggressive stomps behind him. He wouldn't say he was scared, per-se, simply aware of the extreme volatility present in the situation. Izuku knew Kacchan wouldn't do anything to hurt him ever again.

But, getting caught in the crossfire between him and Shinsou wouldn't be too much better. "S-so, uh, y-you said you wanted to t-talk to me?" Izuku brought up gently a few minutes after they'd left the classroom, the length of the hall passing under their feet as they neared the front entrance.

"Yeah, I did." Shinsou fell off into silence a moment later, only the lingering echo of their footsteps punctuating the awkward pause. Izuku dared to turn his head at the bare minimum angle required to catch a glimpse of Shinsou's face, and found that the smirk on his face had long vacated. "It's probably a bit late to be honest, but.. about the Sport's Festival-I was kind of a dick to you-"

"'Kind of'", Kacchan mocked under his breath, snorting when Shinsou's head whipped around to level a dead stare at him.

"Okay, I was definitely a dick to you," Shinsou stressed pointedly, a note of the hesitance that had been present in his tone replaced with something dry and scathing. It left as soon as it had arrived, however, and was replaced with an awkward sort of contrition. "So.. sorry for that. You were just trying to be nice to me, and I used that against you because I'm a sore loser."

"I-it's-" Izuku stopped himself short, taking a quick breath to swallow the instinctive attempt at reassurance. He took a moment to really absorb what Shinsou was saying, and offered him a kind, sincere smile in return. "Th-thank you for a-apologizing. It means a-a lot. B-but I didn't h-hold anything you said a-against me. It w-was... kind of i-inspiring, actually."

"You're a weird guy, Midoriya," Shinsou deadpanned, before the corner of his lips twitched upward, "but it's good to know there's no hard feelings."

Izuku squeaked out a laugh and ducked his head as they pushed through U.A.'s front doors, the afternoon sunlight casting the three of them in a warm orange glow. "S-so, uhm... I-I was actually a little c-curious about... w-who you guys interned with?"

"Nobody," Kacchan grit out immediately, his scowl from that morning returning with enough heat that Izuku could practically feel his uniform start to smoke.

Shinsou, on the other hand, wore the sort of grin that Izuku would imagine a bank robber would have after getting away with a heist. "I managed to snag an internship with our incredibly humorless, overbearing, and unforgiving homeroom teacher, who wrung me out like a dishrag for an entire week and also taught me a few neat tricks between berating me. But as I'm sure you're more curious about, our dear pal Bakugou interned with-"

"SHUT YOUR FUCKIN' MOUTH YOU FUCKING HUMAN EGGPLANT I'LL BURY YOU-" Kacchan's explosive protests did nothing to cease the flow of words from the grinning Shinsou, and his murderous lunge towards the other boy netted him nothing more than a handful of empty air and a squeak of fright from Izuku.

"Bakugou interned with Best Jeanist, who saw fit to turn him into a polite, fashionable, and well behaved hero with hair gelled down to resemble ancient pottery-" Shinsou ducked away when Bakugou lunged for him again, laughing as he jogged a few extra feet down the walkway, backing through the front gates with laughter dancing in his eyes. "I'll be sure to send you pictures, Midoriya!"

Kacchan trembled with barely bottled fury as Shinsou jogged off down the sidewalk, in the opposite direction of where Izuku knew Kacchan had to go to get home. Shinsou's distance gave Izuku time to notice something about his childhood friend that almost made him want to cry with pride; not once had Kacchan activated his Quirk, throughout the entirety of Shinsou's goading.

Overwhelmed by the level of restraint he was witnessing, Izuku only managed to catch the last part of Kacchan's screamed threats ("-AND I HOPE YOUR FUCKING CAT EATS YOUR TONGUE IN YOUR SLEEP YOU SHITTY LOSER, FUCK YOU!"), before they tapered off into sharp, heavy breaths. Izuku waited patiently for them to even out, unable to keep a smile off his face.

"S-so, you and S-Shinsou, huh? I-I'm glad you're m-making friends, Kacchan!" Izuku exclaimed once he was sure Kacchan had returned to DEFCON 5, a proud giddiness rising in his chest and coloring his tone.

"Shut up, Izuku," his classmate muttered, hefting his backpack and stomping off down the sidewalk towards the station. Izuku hurried to catch up to him, awash in the sensation of barely being able to keep his feet on the ground from how lightening his elation was. Kacchan was talking to him again!

"U-uhm, Shinsou m-mentioned you w-wanted to talk to me t-too. S-so uhm, w-what about?" Careful to trim any unrealistic expectations or hopes away from the bubble rising in his chest, Izuku simply let his curiosity simmer. Had he done something to change the dynamic between them, or had Kacchan had some sort of epiphany or realization?

Kacchan glanced over his shoulder for a moment, his molten metal gaze lingering over Izuku's face for a long moment before he turned away, hunching his shoulders. "...It's about fucking time you figured out that shitty Quirk of yours. Maybe now you can use it without fuckin' puking everywhere and flinging yourself around like a goddamn lawn dart."

Oh. That was... unexpected. Izuku hesitated a moment to organize his thoughts before responding. "A-ah, yeah... I-I was lucky e-enough to intern with s-someone who could h-help me fi-figure things out."

"You're damn right you're lucky, you fuckin' moron. I dunno what kinda dipshit you were playin' at being before, but it's fuckin' over, you got that?" Kacchan's voice rose in volume and intensity, his even heat spraying and hissing from frustration. "You'll take this shit seriously, and you'll work hard, and you'll be the best fuckin' hero you can be. No more fuckin' around. Get it through your thick-ass head already." Kacchan's shoulders hunched even more, and he quickened his pace enough that Izuku had to jog to keep up.

"I-I will, K-Kacchan! I p-promise!" His words came a little breathlessly, his chest so warm and tight that it almost hurt. "I-I'll be more c-careful, and I'll work harder, a-and... and we'll b-both be great heroes!" Izuku's exuberant exclamation burst forth almost without his say-so, carrying with it the last intact pieces of his childish dreams, years of vying and yearning for the day that he and Kacchan could be the world's greatest heroes, standing side by side. Maybe that dream wouldn't ever come true, the way he'd imagined it as a kid...

But he'd work hard to achieve as much as he possibly could.

"And by the way you dipshit, when you use your fuckin' hands for propulsion, use your goddamn brain and think about angles for more than one fuckin' second!" With stunning abruptness, Kacchan ceased his forward momentum to snatch one of Izuku's hands, bending and twisting it to point behind him. "Like this, you fuckhead. And don't just fuckin' fling them around when you wanna change directions, think about the degrees of rotation necessary to adjust your vector. If you do that shit you pulled in training today again, I'll bury you. Got it?"

Almost as soon as it had happened, Kacchan roughly released his hand, turning to stalk off back towards the station with his shoulders pulled almost up to his ears. Izuku stared dumbly at his own hand, before his brain snapped back into focus and he scrambled to catch up. "T-thank you, K-Kacchan!"

"And wipe that fuckin' smile off your face, Izuku!" his classmate barked, sounding more annoyed than Izuku knew he was. "Don't think this walking home together shit is gonna be a usual occurence, because it fuckin' won't! I don't have time to wait around for your dumb ass every day after class anyway."

"S-sure thing, Kacchan!" Izuku replied with barely contained cheer, wiping at his wet eyes with a sleeve. For the first time in a very long time, he wasn't consumed with thoughts of what might go wrong, of what terrible thing might be waiting for him next; at least for the afternoon, Izuku could only imagine how bright the future might be.

Chapter 43

Chapter Text

"-Principal Nedzu wanted me to make it clear that any students caught making outlandish dessert requests from Lunch Rush will be given three days detention. So for anyone that has already participated in this unacceptable behavior," Mr. Aizawa's gaze cut through the classroom, and Izuku shivered in sympathy at the sight of Ashido and Kaminari both withering in their seats, "keep that in mind. He's not here for your entertainment, so try to restrain yourselves from taking advantage of his generosity." Mr. Aizawa's exasperation was palpable, and Izuku was fairly sure that the pause he took to shuffle his papers was for the sole purpose of regenerating his patience.

Mr. Aizawa sighed heavily, glancing back up from his desk to address them with less annoyance. "Your Final Exams are coming up soon, and I expect all of you to be prepared for them. I'll reiterate that anyone who doesn't pass will be attending summer school during your vacation, instead of coming to the training camp. Be sure to manage your study time; the written exam is only half of your finals. Oh, one more thing: Principal Nedzu has also said that the school library and gym will both be open until eight P.M. on week nights, leading up to your exams. I'd recommend taking advantage of that."

Mr. Aizawa began heading for the door as the bell signaled the end of the school day, looking marginally more exhausted than he had that morning. Izuku was almost worried; was he getting enough sleep? "Good luck on your exams," he offered as a dry parting, slipping into the hall and letting the door slide shut behind him.

The silence was broken immediately by Kaminari's pitiful screech, something of a signal that everyone could begin drifting into their preferred groups before the end of the day. "Oh goooood I'm gonna faillllllll," he groaned, nearly sliding out of his seat as Mina burst into laughter, slipping out of her own desk to sit on top of Kaminari's and pat his head in camaraderie.

"Practical exercises have certainly left us without much free-time," Tokoyami uttered in a tone that wasn't quite annoyed, and Izuku was reminded of his... not quite stellar mid-term results. He felt a sudden surge of guilt relating to their nighttime beach ventures, but squashed the reflexive urge to apologize for infringing on Tokoyami's study time. Maybe instead..

"U-uhm, if you're h-having trouble keeping up with the m-material, m-maybe we can start s-studying in the library together, a-after school?" Izuku mustered up his brightest smile, and was stricken half a second later by the realization that his offer could be misconstrued as an open invitation for anyone that needed help with studying and while he wasn't against helping his classmates he wasn't really much of a tutor he'd probably just ramble and mumble too much and have trouble explaining things and having multiple people rely on him for direction and teaching was kinda absolutely terrifying-

"Got room for one more, Midoriya?" Kirishima's voice put an end to Izuku's internalized spiral into panic, and he was forced to dodge the redhead's swinging leg as he hauled himself up to sit on Izuku's desk. "Algebra has really been kickin' my ass," he admitted in a slightly sheepish tone, one hand carving a path through the rigid spikes of his hair. Idly, Izuku wondered how long it took him every morning to get them to stay up like that.

Izuku was startled out of his reverie by Tokoyami turning a curious look his way, and his face burned as he realized he'd been quiet for a few beats too many. "U-uhm-sure, o-of course! T-t-that's cool with m-me!" Satisfied that his voice hadn't broken (more than usual, at least), he felt comfortable enough to continue speaking. "S-should we invite e-everyone else, t-too?"

"A group effort is not unwelcome. Doubtless we'd be too crowded anywhere but the library, besides." Tokoyami's gaze drifted to the back of the room, where Todoroki was quietly gathering his things, and listening patiently to Iida and Uraraka hold a conversation beside him. He looked better than he had on their first day back at school; despite repeated reassurances that his injuries were healing and he wasn't in any serious pain, he'd been stiff and slightly hunched over during the duration of class, and had come in second during his own race despite being more than capable of winning. Izuku's heart twisted at the thought of him stoically bearing his pain, and decided that inviting him along was the least he could do to look after his friend.

The group invite was twofold as well, in that it would give him the opportunity for a more direct conversation with Iida. Things hadn't been... unfriendly; the stiff, unsure coldness Iida had shown after Izuku's scarring injury wasn't present, but their conversations never proceeded past anything surface level. Maybe it wasn't time to push quite yet, but surely it would be good to at least make some progress in repairing things between them.

And it wasn't like he needed a specific reason to hang out with his friends, right? Studying was just a convenient and productive means of enjoying their company. It was better to just-not overthink things, and focus on what was important. Having sufficiently convinced himself of his motivations despite the fact that he'd most likely have followed through regardless, Izuku worked his way to the back of the classroom, a smile rising unbidden to his face when Uraraka waved in his direction.

"Hey Izuku," she chirped, releasing the hold she had on Todoroki's floating notebook and allowing it to drift into Iida's orbit, "what's up? Worried about exams too?" Oddly enough, despite Uraraka's tone being steeped in a warm, honeyed coating of concern and sympathy, the glint in her eyes was almost anticipating.

"Ki-kinda. I mean I d-doubt the w-written portion will b-be anything unexpected, i-it's most likely to b-be a comprehensive o-overview of everything we've l-learned this year as w-well as a means of t-testing our comprehension t-through use of taught c-concepts in p-problem solving to m-make sure we a-actually understand their u-uses beyond st-standardized testing as w-well as outside th-the boundaries of our n-normal test prep q-questions to ensure w-we have mastered th-their use both c-creatively and academically." Izuku blinked as his friends' wordless stares stretched into an awkward silence, and felt a flush crawl up his neck. "I-I mean, t-that's what M-Mr. Yamada told m-me when I asked, at l-least," he mumbled, gaze averting to the floor.

"Well, that's certainly a thorough recounting," Iida spoke up, his eyes not quite meeting Izuku's own. It didn't quite sting, since Izuku had been expecting it, but his chest still panged for a return to how things had been before. "I'm sure someone as studious as you will have little trouble with the written exam."

Ducking his head and attempting to ignore how his ears burned at the sound of praise, Izuku stuttered to find his voice. "W-well, t-t-that's-there's s-still a few things I'm u-unsure about, actually, w-which is why I wanted to a-ask you guys if y-you wanted to st-study in the library a-after school? Tokoyami and Kirishima a-are already going to come."

It took until the moment Uraraka's face broke out into a brilliant smile for Izuku to realize she'd been almost morose during his rambling. Before he could think of questioning that, she closed the distance between them and took both his hands in her own, eyes sparkling as they centered on his stammering, blush-heavy visage. With her so close, he was almost sure he could smell her shampoo-considering how nice her hair always looked, he might have to ask what brand she used.

"That's an awesome idea!" Her voice broke Izuku from his embarrassing musings. "And much cheaper than hanging out at the movies every week. And maybe we'll even have enough time after studying to train for practicals, too!"

For a moment, Uraraka's eye glittered with mischief, and Izuku was struck with a sense of impending doom before she turned to flash a sweet, doe eyed look at Iida. Her puppy-dog look was strong enough to make Izuku's heart squeeze in his chest like it was caught in a bear trap, and he was only seeing the fringes of it.

"You'll study with us too, won't you Iida? It wouldn't be the same without the whole gang there!" A bead of sweat trickled down the side of Iida's face, and his expression quivered with the titanic effort it took to not immediately give into Uraraka's demands. "Besides, you get the best grades out of all of us! Who else could teach us how to be as dedicated and academically inclined as you are?" The humor in her voice was clear as day, but Iida seemed too off-balance to pick up on it.

"Of-of course! I'd be happy to help all of you study for your exams!" Iida seemed to glow with a new light, his exuberance shining through the quiet melancholy lurking under his surface. "As your friend and class president, it's both my duty and my privilege to aid my fellow classmates in their academic endeavors! I won't let you down!" His arms chopped through the air with equal parts enthusiasm and determination, and Todoroki had to sink back in his seat to avoid becoming collateral damage.

Izuku's gaze drifted towards him, and he was met with a neutral, two toned gaze. "D-did you... w-want to study with us too, T-Todoroki?" He was a little unsure-not in having Todoroki around, but if the other boy would even have the opportunity to join them, with Endeavor breathing down his neck.

"...I should be able to come," Todoroki stated after a few moments of quiet contemplation, his expression unmoving. "I just need to pick up something from home, first. I'll meet you there."

"S-sure, no problem! W-we'll see you there!" Izuku beamed in a manner he hoped wasn't unbearably awkward, chest abuzz with the fluttering excitement of getting to spend more time with his friends after school. It wasn't often they were all able to meet up outside of class, and being able to help one another study for their exams was a massive weight off his back. He'd been worried (of course he'd been worried) despite his grades, that familiar doubt weighing in his chest and hanging in his flesh with barbed hooks, but he found it a little easier to breathe, now.

The internship was over, his friends were safe, and they could work together to make it through any challenge that faced them. Maybe it was time to finally stop worrying.
--
For the fifth time in as many minutes, Shouto Todoroki's gaze fell to the unadorned phone in his hand, an almost unconscious action that he had taken on only a short while ago. It was... unusual, for him to view his phone as a means of more than convenient communication or a source of dread and annoyance. He mostly ignored the apps it had come pre-loaded with, and had, at most, used it to accept calls and set timers or alarms. His phone had always been a mild convenience, and nothing else.

Until it wasn't. Shouto could safely say that, of all the things he'd expected from his time at U.A., making friends hadn't made the list. He'd envisioned a solitary and unfulfilling means of improving himself and the right side of his Quirk, before he was invariably scooped up by an agency after graduation, and then he would rub his own success in his father's face.

And now he had friends who invited him to things, who didn't get upset or hurt when he sometimes refused, who left the conversation open for him to join without forcing him to participate or ignoring his unsure silence. It was new, and unpredictable, and he still felt slightly out of place in the group, but..

Shouto finally slid his phone away in his pocket, convincing himself there would likely be no notifications before he arrived back at U.A.'s campus on his return trip. He'd only sent a few messages in the group chat Midoriya had invited him to, but he was unable to quash the curiosity that rose up in him whenever he saw unread messages. Even if he didn't participate overly much, he found some unrecognizable enjoyment in reading over conversations. It was.. comforting, to lie in bed at night, and drown out the cold silence of his house by imagining the voices of his friends when he read their conversations. Embers of pleasure swirled in his stomach when he sent a message that garnered amusement, or interest. It was nice-nicer than he could have imagined it would be.

The brakes of the tram hissed and squealed as it gently slid to a stop, and Shouto lurched a little in his seat before he caught the handrail. A foggy sheen radiated from his left hand before he removed his grip, and he quietly exited through the parting doors, keeping pace with the flow of commuters leaving the tram.

The walk to his house was fairly short, and it would likely take him only a few minutes to slip into his room and grab his extra notes. He could be back to the station in ten minutes, easy. The cold, roiling lump in his stomach suggested otherwise, but he shoved it down with practiced ease. There was an incredibly low chance that Endeavor would be home-Fuyumi would have texted him if that was the case. He wouldn't have to talk to him, or hear his voice, or look at his face. Shouto could return to the bubble of U.A., where Endeavor was nothing more than a distant irritation.

Shouto tensed the moment he set foot on the property, his stiffening shoulders pulling on the still-sensitive skin of his healing back. The wounds were shiny and pink in the mirror when he'd checked that morning, and the doctors had told him it would likely leave some moderate scarring. He'd take that over having his lungs and kidneys shredded. The train of thought led him to an unpleasant mental image, of his hand reaching futilely, of Midoriya's dull misery slowly dawning with terror-

His front door swung open harder than he'd intended, and Shouto was forced to catch it with his right hand, brittle flecks of ice forming on the aged wood as he forcibly puffed out a sigh of chilled air. He lowered his own temperature until the wounds on his back were blessedly cool, and scanned the interior of the house. The lights were still out, and he didn't see Endeavor's work boots anywhere. He quickly slipped out of his own shoes before it slipped his mind, entirely aware of how pointless it was considering he'd be leaving again in a few minutes. The potential headache wasn't worth it.

Shouto trudged through the foyer and down the hallway that bore his and his sister's rooms, wondering if he should knock on Fuyumi's door to see if she was in or not. He'd already texted her about his study-plan earlier, but he was sure she'd at least appreciate seeing him for a minute or two.

But the light under her door was out, and he couldn't hear her in the kitchen either. Maybe she was out as well. Striding quickly down the hallway, he turned to enter his own room without flourish, the spartan living space making it easy to find the notes he'd organized atop his desk. He tucked them into his backpack, unconcerned with making them look neat, and considered grabbing a snack before he left. Class with All Might had left him peckish.

The sound of a door slamming into frame cracked through the air like a whip, and Shouto's nerves spiked in response. He went very still, hand locked in place on his doorknob, and strained his ears to listen for any further sounds.

Heavy, thudding footsteps began snaking rhythmically through the house, the sheer output of noise barely impacted by the removal of Endeavor's boots. Rather than fading off into his father's wing of the house, they grew closer, bypassing the sitting room he usually brooded in after work, and came to a halt somewhere in the kitchen. Shouto wouldn't be able to sneak by without detection.

Steeling himself for a surely unpleasant exchange of words, Shouto took a deep, even breath and slung the strap of his bag over his shoulder as he slipped into the hall. His door clicked shut, and he was immediately accosted by cold, piercing eyes. Figuring it would be best to try and get into the bastard's good graces (what little he had, at least), Shouto uttered a quiet "Hello, father," as he entered the kitchen.

"Shouto," Endeavor acknowledged, the weight of his attention unrelenting. His presence filled the room with a sickening frigidness, every aspect, every tiny facet of the man that was his father making Shouto feel nauseous with anger. Every moment spent in the same room as him reminded him of his hatred, his regret, his guilt and longing. Endeavor was a miasma of negativity, his flames cold and putrescent. He was everything Shouto despised, and everything he vowed to never become.

"Where do you think you're going?" Even without his Quirk giving him the menacing (and stupidly unnecessary) flaming facial hair he wore during work hours, heat still poured from his furnace of a mouth.

"Back to school. They're allowing us to stay later for studying and training, for our upcoming exams." Shouto took care that his tone of voice wasn't too clipped or irritated-he couldn't afford to have Endeavor bar him from leaving because he was unable to keep a lid on his temper.

"You already have a training regimen to follow, Shouto." Endeavor's tone was stern and dismissive, but Shouto wasn't deterred. After all, that hadn't been a 'no'.

"The practical exams will emphasize teamwork over individual skill," Shouto lied, though he couldn't be sure that that wasn't the actual focus of the exams. "I'd be at a disadvantage if I didn't take advantage of the chance to train with my classmates." Shouto looked his father full in the face, maintaining steady eye contact. Endeavor wasn't really the best at picking up on his lies, but he needed to take full precautions.

He remained cool and stoic when his father's nuclear fission gaze narrowed, searching his face. The bastard crossed his arms over his chest like he was granting some great honor, a huff spilling from his mouth. "Very well. Be back before dinner. And you'll be holding a training session with me tomorrow morning. I'll wake you early for it."

Teeth gritted behind his neatly lined lips, Shouto nodded once and turned to swiftly exit the kitchen, reminding himself that it was worth it to put up with the bastard's bullshit as long as he was able to spend time with his friends. Endeavor didn't matter.

Shouto was halfway out the door when a thought occurre