We All Fall Down - Legendary_Cupcake - 僕のヒーローアカデミア | Boku no Hero Academia (2024)

Chapter 1: Prologue/Chapter 1

Chapter Text

Prologue

Ring around the rosies

The backyard had a rose bush. A scraggly thing that stubbornly clung to life despite the family’s collective neglect. Sometimes, a tiny pink bud would pop up amongst the yellow-green leaves.

A pocket full of posies

The first and only time Tenko had tried to bring his mother flowers, carefully picked from the side of the road on the way home, his father slapped him across the face for bringing weeds into the house.

Ashes, ashes

He’d thought it was a villain at first. Some small, secret part of him hoped it would get his father. It was a villain. Just not the one Tenko expected. And he was so, so angry. It wasn’t fair.

We all fall down

A blackish purple portal writhed closing around two children, as All Might threw himself forward. Closer. Closer! He was barely able to pluck one of the two, pulling a white haired boy no older than eight into his arms as the portal snapped shut, only just giving him a glimpse of fluffy green hair before it was gone. The child in his arms flinched when he began to shout his customary catchphrase, so All Might quieted, settling for a much quieter “It’s all right, because I’m here.”

Chapter One

All Might stared through the glass, observing the scrawny, malnourished child currently doing his best to glare a hole in the opposite wall, orange juice left stubbornly untouched beside the hospital bed.

“He still won’t speak?” Next to him, Tsukauchi’s lips quirked up in a wry smile.

“I wouldn’t exactly say that, All Might. Once he figured out we weren’t going to hurt him…well let’s say I didn’t know an eight year old could use insults quite that creatively. It was a real shot in the heart for Tadashi. He might have to go into early retirement after the kid was done with him.” Both men chuckled before sobering as the boy, giving up his staring contest with the wall, drew his knees up to his chest and resumed picking his cracked hands.

“So he…did he…is he really?” Toshinori trailed off, uncomfortably rubbing the back of his neck with hesitation few bore witness to. But this was new territory for everyone. All For One’s prisoners were rarely recovered alive, and in the months since All Might had finally ended his reign of terror, that number had dropped to nearly zero. Hideout after hideout, villain after villain, either trying to hide their involvement by destroying the evidence, or scheming to fill the power vacuum, continuing on the work of their previous master. It had been exhausting, heart-breaking work that he had only just healed enough from the battle with All For One to take part in. He was still not really healthy, but people needed to see him. Needed to hope. Still, he couldn’t save everyone, despite what the media said. Fluffy green hair and the tearful shout of “stay with me” had haunted his dreams since the rescue. None of the other teams had reported victims, dead or otherwise in the following days. Tsukauchi’s voice pulled Toshinori back out of his head.

“Shimura Tenko. Eight years old last Tuesday. Two years ago the entire Shimura family was found murdered in their own home. Everyone except him. I read the report, it was like he vanished off the face of the planet.”

“Until last week.”

“Until last week. Realistically speaking, we know nothing about the kid. It was a miracle that we were able to identify his name. He has no registered quirk, hasn’t displayed one since he was brought in, but fights like a wet cat if anyone tries to touch him. And has presumably spent the past two years with the most dangerous villain to have ever lived.” All Might blew out a long breath, wincing as what was once his stomach twinged.

“It’s something he would have done. Going after her family to get to me.” It made his blood boil with a combination of rage and guilt, knowing that All For One had likely killed Tenko’s whole family and kidnapped him all to get to Toshinori. It didn’t take a genius to realize that one way or another, the boy was meant to become a weapon against him. Either by his death or through some perverted mental game that All For One had been so fond of. He’s gone, Toshinori reminded himself firmly, he can’t hurt anyone anymore.

Tsukauchi frowned. “We have a caseworker looking into how best to move forward. The amount of families we have who are prepared to help with the amount of trauma that comes from something like this…it won’t be easy. I even asked Aizawa, but he said the only thing he was qualified to adopt were cats.”

Toshinori raised an eyebrow. He’d only met the young underground hero once or twice, but his grumpy demeanor did not exactly scream parental. “Why Eraserhead? He didn’t seem the…family type to me.”

“He’s underground, Yagi. He sees more trafficking crimes than most, and has the certifications to match. Young or not…our options are extremely limited. It’s all I can do to give the commission a run around right now. They wanted to take him in as a ward, active immediately.”

“What would the hero commission want with him?” Toshinori realized how stupid he sounded the second the words left his mouth. Of course the Hero Commission would want to speak with young Shimura. They had the best interests of hero society as a whole at heart, of course, but even so…the occasional comment here and there had given Toshinori enough information to piece together that he and the Hero Commission had a difference of opinion on what means justified what ends. If they thought he was a sleeper agent…Toshinori also couldn’t deny it was a possibility. All For One had no qualms with using children. It gave him an uneasy feeling, though, thinking of handing the boy over to the stiff suited characters that he usually had to interact with when dealing with them. “...Right. Nevermind.”

Tsukauchi went back to starting at Tenko. “This kid…he’s going to need a lot of support. Someone rock solid. You know as well as I do that nobody walks away from All For One whole, whether or not you have all your limbs attached.”

Tenko rested his cheek on his knee, staring out the window with an expression that nearly threw Toshinori into the past with how painfully it reminded him of his master. She’d had the exact same look on her face when the world rested particularly heavily on her shoulders, but she refused to set it down, even for a second.

“I can take him.” The words were out before he could fully process them, hanging in the silence between him and Tsukauchi.

“Yagi, I know you feel guilty, but this isn’t your fault. Shimura wouldn’t–”

“It’s not because of that.” Toshinori flushed as the detective raised a skeptical eyebrow. “I…yes, I do see her, in him. But I know he’s not Nana. She would have taken him in without a second thought, but…but that’s not the reason I’m offering.” Toshinori had been young, too, when his world was shattered. He’d shared the look in the boy’s eyes. “He needs someone to keep the weight of the world off his shoulders, Naomasa. I can do that for him. You know I have the certifications too. Please just…consider me.”

For a long moment Tsukauchi stared at him. He had meant every word, unable to clearly understand the thoughts circling his head until he’d spoken. Truth be told, both men knew Toshinori was a pathetic liar, even if Tsukauchi’s quirk wasn’t Lie Detector. “I’ll talk to his caseworker.”

“Thank-”

“I’m not making any promises, Yagi. You’ll have to go through the process like anyone else, but I’ll bring you up.”

Toshinori nodded seriously, relief making his shoulders droop. “That’s all I ask, my friend.” For a moment they were silent again.

“Can I…can I talk to him?”

“You are still the lead acting hero on his case, so yes. Maybe he’ll react better to you. You were the one who rescued him, after all.” Tsukauchi’s phone rang, its cheerful tone loud in the quiet hospital ward. It was guarded by at least three card swipes, designed for victims of major villain attacks, those who might still be in danger of an assault.

“Speak of the caffeinated devil himself…I’ve got to take this.” Tsukauchi turned, phone already in hand. “Tsukauchi speaking…I’m surprised you’re conscious it’s three in the afternoon…”

Squaring his shoulders and remembering his initial rescue, All Might decided to forgo his customary announcement. Still, he prepared his brightest grin and ducked into the room.

Tenko’s head snapped around like a viper to glare at him, nested as close as he could get to the headboard of the bed. Toshinori couldn’t help but think he looked remarkably like a disgruntled owlet. All puffed feathers and false bravado. After years of putting his own front to the world, Toshinori knew a thing or two about the hidden fear that swirled behind the eyes that were currently trying to set him on fire.

“Hello there, young Shimura!” He sat on the stool next to the bed, not missing the way the boy edged away from him, body coiled like a spring.

“You…you kidnapped me!” All Might laughed uneasily, bringing up a hand to rub the back of his neck awkwardly. The boy flinched. It was subtle, but it was there. What had he…oh. His hand. Way to go, Toshinori you idiot.

“Don’t touch me! You big banana slug faced porcupine haired s-slime! I can…I…I will hurt you!” Somehow, when Tsukauchi had said the boy had a talent for insults he hadn’t been expecting this. Young Shimura’s eyes were locked on him with the intensity of a caged animal. Carefully telegraphing his movements, All Might slowly lowered his hands to his lap.

“I can understand that you might be frightened, You–”

“I’m not scared! I already told you I can hurt you! I..I’ll make sure it hurts bad!” Despite his threats, the boy’s hands trembled, wringing together. Oddly enough, Toshinori noted that his particular pattern of fidgeting never seemed to go between three fingers grasping on one wrist before raking across the other. Again and again…five point touch?
Deciding to take a different approach, All Might tried, “My mistake, Young Shimura. I’m sure you are more than able to defend yourself, but I have no intention of hurting you. And if this has been a misunderstanding, maybe we can figure it out if you talk to me. And I can talk to the police for you.” There was a long beat of silence where Shimura stared sullenly at him, and just as he was mentally resigning himself to the fact that he’d messed up again, some of the tension drained from the boy’s frame. The suspicion was still there, so was the anger, but he seemed less cornered than before.

“That’s not my name anymore. That’s a dead person, Sensei said so.” All Might fought to keep the easy smile on his face, feeling it turn brittle. Mind games indeed.

“Oh? Then what should I call you?” Another beat, the boy’s frantic fidgeting calming until he was only absently scratching a cracked, reddish patch on his neck.

“Shigaraki. I’m Shigaraki Tomura.”

“Well then, young Shigaraki, my name is Yagi Toshinori. I want to help you, but even if you don’t realize it yet, you were rescued from a very bad villain. I–”

“You’re lying to me just so you can take me to jail and never let me out! I–don’t try it! I’m…I’m just waiting for Sensei to take me home and if you try to take me away before then I’ll make sure you’re sorry!” The tension was back, frantic fidgeting resuming as Shimura’s eyes darted to the doorway before locking back on All Might. Yaga blinked.

“…why would we send you to jail?” This seemed to derail the boy’s bluster, confusion creeping into the belligerence.

“Because…because you’re a hero! I know it! You’re just trying to trick me into thinking you aren’t because you took off your costume but I saw you in it when you kidnapped me. You’re All Might. You only attack real villains,” the word villain was said with a mixture of pride and venom, something about the way the boy tripped over the word catching Toshinori’s ears, “and heroes take villains to jail!”

“I’m not here to take you to jail, young Shigaraki.” Shigaraki’s mouth snapped shut, a deep scowl painting his features as he tried to dissect this newest bit of information.

“Then…then you’re just here to try and use me against Sensei. That’s stupid he’ll kill you when he comes for me and…and you can’t even keep me here I’ll…I’ll…” The boy's fingers trembled minutely.

“Hurt me too?” All Might finished gently, meeting young Shimura’s eyes. “I’ll tell you what I think, young Shigaraki. You are more than capable of hurting me, and you have threatened to do so several times in the last few minutes. But you haven’t.”.

“You…you don’t know what you’re talking about! I’m a villain! I can hurt you! You should be scared of me!” The spark of rage was back, but it was tremulous, angrier in its fear. Of what, All Might was not yet sure. Toshinori pressed on.

“I know a thing or two about real villains, young Shigaraki, and you are not one of them.”

“Yes I am! You don’t know what you’re talking about! Just because you’re some big shot hero you—“

All Might cut him off, soft tone silencing the boy almost immediately. “Real villains hurt not because they can, but because they want to. They hurt people because it makes them happy. In fact, I can prove that you aren’t a villain.” All Might was grateful for the fact that Tsukauchi had to take a call, because he would kill him for this. But he’d committed to saving people’s hearts, too.

Slowly, Toshinori turned his back to the child on the bed, closing his eyes. “If you’re a real villain, young Shigaraki, then show me. I can’t defend myself right now, and you’ve already said you are a villain.” A moment passed. Toshinori prayed he was right. Another moment. Then, breaking the thick silence of the room, a sniff. Then another choked noise that sounded suspiciously like a sob. He turned around again to find young Shigaraki, one hand rapidly withdrawing from where the back of Toshinori’s neck would have been, curling into himself, tears beginning to leak out of the corners of his eyes.

“You…I-I’ll…” Unable to finish the threat, the boy's lips clamped shut as he desperately fought back the tears.

“See? It doesn’t look like you’re a villain to me.” Tomura was shaking, red eyes turning up to meet blue with defiant desperation.

“But I…I killed them. All of them. A-and it wasn’t a villain, it was me.” There was an odd, twisted parody of triumph on his face, jagged and painful. All Might’s blood turned to ice. An entire family murdered in their home with no sign of a break in, the bodies so decomposed that they seemed to have been there a month, not discovered the night of when a neighbor called the police upon hearing screaming. A lone missing survivor. They boy’s odd fidgeting pattern. “You-you can’t tell me I’m not a villain! I…I’m supposed to hurt people!” Shigaraki finished with a defiant snarl. For a moment the only noise was the boy’s rough breathing.

“Did you want to hurt them?”

Tomura gulped, lips trembling. “That doesn’t matter…Sensei said—“

“I don’t want to know what your Sensei said, young Shigaraki. I want to know if you wanted to hurt them.” The boy’s fists were clenched, one pinky sticking out to the side.

“I…I thought it was a villain. I didn’t mean…only D-dad. But not like…I didn’t mean to…”

“Then you’re not a villain. And I’m so sorry that nobody saved you then.” Tomura stared at him, open mouthed, eyes blown wide, so terribly young. Then, like a puppet with its strings cut, he slumped down, face buried in the pillow that only just muffled the heartbreaking sobs being wrenched from his small frame. Then, he watched the pillow begin to crumble away into ash, young Shigaraki’s head hitting the mattress with a soft thump, momentarily stunning him out of his crying to stare at All Might, frozen, as if waiting for a blow. It would never come. Not from Toshinori.

Ever so cautiously he stood, moving down to sit at the end of the bed and holding out an arm. Shigaraki, snot trailing down his face, muddied with ash and tears, looked between All Might and the decayed pillow, searching his face for fear, for disgust, for anger, but instead finding something he’d forgotten the name of, and in a flurry of clumsy, gangly limbs, he collided with the former’s chest, crumbling into new sobs.

Toshinori held him close, an anchor as Shimura Tenko mourned. He couldn’t bring himself to say that it was alright, that everything was better because he was here. He knew it wasn’t. Maybe it wouldn’t be for some time. But it could be again. And that’s what mattered.

When Tsukauchi came back to Shimura’s hospital room, he was met with the sight of a particularly grim All Might cradling the sleeping boy to his chest, the look in his eyes showing both the weight of the world, and the determination to carry it before it crushed the young life in his arms. Yet, meeting Tsukauchi’s gaze, Toshinori smiled.

___________________________

To say that everything was perfect was a gross misrepresentation of Toshinori’s introduction to parenthood. Sure, he read every book he could get his hands on about parenting. He went to seminars, counseling, family counseling, and watched videos. He even asked Endeavor for parenting advice, though the man gave him a look that could curdle milk and suggested boarding school, so Toshinori didn’t ask him again. Mrs. Todoroki, on the other hand, recommended an excellent private day school where her eldest three attended when he ran into her at the grocery store. It still confused Toshinori how such a lovely woman ended up married to Endeavor, not that he was in the position to judge Endeavor’s temper seeing as he knew first hand the stress of hero work, but still…they seemed like, well, fire and ice. Toshinori also couldn’t quite smother the spark of pride that rose internally at the thought that dad jokes came naturally to him.

Not that he thought Tomura, Tomura, not Tenko, he reminded himself, had to see him as a father figure or anything, he was perfectly happy just to offer a safe place where the boy could heal and grow! So Toshinori bought a house in a neighborhood instead of a high rise, baby–proofed said house triple checking that it met every standard Tomura’s social workers set, not that he would use that terminology anywhere near Tomura’s hearing. The boy’s temper was, to be frank, a legendary sight. And he despised any indication that he was helpless, young, or weak. But there were times when Toshinori could see the child he still was. Tomura liked butterflies, grumbling that Toshinori was dumb while informing him with equal excitement that they totally liquified before becoming butterflies. He had a sweet tooth to rival Toshinori’s, and the first time he saw the boy smile was when he stopped to get them ice cream cones on the way home from Tomura’s mandated appointments with a child psychologist. Interestingly enough, he also had a way with animals, and Toshinori had glanced out the window one morning to see him carefully touching noses with a stray cat that wandered into their backyard.

There were also more blunders than he could count. They did not go out much, as Tomura’s quirk control slipped more often than not when he was upset, or, sadly enough, when he was excited. An unfortunate incident involving a new pair of bright red new shoes had proved that. It was the only other time Tomura had seemed close to tears, though he adamantly refused to tell Toshinori the reason why he’d specifically asked for them in the first place. It had taken a week, but after another helpful tip off from one Rei Todoroki, he’d managed to find a second pair in Tomura’s size.

The shoe incident was also the tipping point to convince Tomura to try the soft archery gloves recommended by his quirk specialist to help improve not just his writing, but his quality of life in general. When he thought nobody was looking, Toshinori caught him gently grabbing various objects or petting that same persistent stray cat, with all five fingers, a fascinated, tiny smile pulling at his lips. Toshinori felt as if he was walking a dangerous line where his new charge’s quirk was concerned. In no way did he want Tomura to fear his quirk more than he already did, but he could not deny that it was both dangerous and very powerful. Powerful enough to cause patches of his own skin to flake away, irritated and raw in a rare display of quirk-based eczema that had required specialized cream for his hands and face once a day. Tomura could not live normally, so to speak, until his control improved, but he could not improve his control without extensive quirk counseling, and Toshinori was dismayed to find that the boy had started to display resistance when asked to use it. However, he consistently reminded himself that these things took time, and so he contented himself with the small victories.

But, staring at the picture that Tomura was holding, plucked from an upper level of the living room bookshelf, Toshinori could not help but think that he might have messed up again.

___________________________

Tomura was…confused. A lot of things confused him, these days, and despite devoting all the brainpower an eight year old could spare, he could not unconfuse himself. It confused him that the police had not yet come to lock him in jail. It confused him that the woman he had to talk with twice a week told him that he was “processing,” and that it was okay to be mad about the bad things that happened as long as he wasn’t mad at himself. Sensei had said something similar, but he had said that the bad things were because Tomura was not doing what his quirk was meant to do before, and so that’s why his skin itched and he was so angry at himself. Tomura was born to be a villain. (Sensei said so, so it had to be true?) Tomura was not a villain. (Yagi said that, and wouldn’t a hero know?) Sensei said that he had saved him. Yagi said that he had saved him. Tomura was confused.

Sensei had not come. It had been three months, the leaves were starting to change colors, and Sensei had not come. But Yagi cooked pancakes in the mornings, and Tomura liked pancakes. And he sang, horribly, in English, while he was doing it, but he never hit Tomura for laughing at him from around the kitchen corner. Dad didn’t like being laughed at. But Yagi didn’t seem to mind. Yagi had a nice laugh. Sensei didn’t laugh at all. Tomura was confused.

The anger Sensei had carefully curated in him had faded somewhat. Tomura was tired of being angry. He wasn’t sure if he knew how to not be angry anymore. But the lady had said it was okay, and that he could learn about being happy again. She said his family wouldn’t want him to be mad all the time. Tomura wasn’t so sure. Dad would want him to be mad, but then again, Dad was always mad, and always wanted everyone to agree with him. But Mom had liked roses. And his sister…they were going to be heroes, together, before Tomura became a villain (was he one?). And Izuku…he wasn’t sure if Izuku in his stupid red shoes knew how to be angry. Tomura had tried, at first, turning one of their action figures to dust, but Izuku had just hugged him, careless of the fingers that could end his life, and declared, “accidents happen, that’s what Mama said, we can just share this one!” Then he’d started to cry, and Tomura resolved to be angry enough for both of them. But Yagi sat with him and watched cartoon Endeavor get beat by cartoon All Might when he couldn’t sleep at night. Tomura was glad the anger was going away, even if he was scared what would happen when it was all gone. He was still confused, but he liked it when Yagi threw an arm around him and laughed when he said Endeavor looked like he had to poop.

Tomura expected to be confused by this point, but he did not expect to find a picture of his grandmother on Yagi’s bookshelf. A young woman with dark hair and a hero costume, arm looped about Yagi in his own hero costume. Suddenly he was six again, sneaking into his father’s study with his sister. Footsteps behind him sounded out Yagi’s presence, and he had to fight the instinctive urge to cower, to explain. Whirling about, Tomura searched up for the anger that was so easy to grab, but only found confusion. How did Yagi know his grandmother?

“Who…how did you know my Grandma? Dad didn’t even know grandma. How did you know her?” Yagi looked nervous.

“Well you see, young Shigaraki, she was, she was my own mentor. She taught me how to be a hero.” Tomura stared. Yagi didn’t talk about being a hero much. Tomura didn’t ask much, either.

“Oh. What was…what was she like?” What did she do to make Dad hate heroes so much? To hate her? Yagi walked over to take the picture gently from Tomura’s hands, sitting down heavily on the couch. He was smiling, a little sadly, but mostly in the way that he looked at the sky on windy days.

“Her name was Nana Shimura. And she was one of the greatest heroes in the world. She was kind, smart, and generous. She could even teach someone like me to be a hero.” Tomura followed his guardian to the couch, plopping curiously on the other end. “She was the one who told me it was just as important to save people’s hearts, not just their lives. And she fought to make sure everyone had a chance to smile without fear for her whole life. Even…even if that meant she sacrificed some of the things that would have given her the same joy she fought to protect for others.”

Tomura frowned. “Was that my Dad?” Yagi nodded.

“Yes. That was your Dad. Villains like to hurt heroes where they have no protection, and that often comes through hurting family members. She was the best hero, so naturally, the worst villains would try to hurt anyone she loved. So she gave up your father so that he could never be hurt because of her.”

Tomura nodded slowly, thinking hard. “So…she knew it would make her sad but she did it anyway so other people could be happy.”

Yagi looked up from the photo, smiling at Tomura. “Yes, she did. Even if it meant she did not get to meet you, I know she wouldn’t regret it since it means you have the chance to live a happy life, Tomura. She already loved you. But I think she would have liked you, too.”

Tomura wrinkled his nose, drawing his legs up to sit more comfortably in his favorite nook. “I don’t think she knew I was born. I only know about her because I found it in a drawer in Dad’s office.”

Yagi chuckled, not bothered by Tomura’s admission of guilt. He never seemed bothered, even when Tomura tried to give him reasons to get angry. Tried to make him snap in a way that made sense. Even Sensei had buttons. Especially Sensei. “I don’t know if she ever checked up on your family from afar. But even if she didn’t, I knew Shimura Nana well enough to know that she hoped to have a grandson like you someday. It’s one of the things that kept her going even when things were hard. To build a better world for you.”

“I guess she does sound cool…but you’re not that old Yagi. And you’re not a lot younger than she was. What happened to her?” Yagi’s hands tightened around the frame, his eyes growing distant for a moment.

“She died, fighting a villain that wanted more than anything to destroy every ideal she cherished. Everything, and everyone she held dear. She defended them to her last breath.”

Something bothered Tomura about the story, making the hairs on the back of his neck rise in an unease he couldn’t quite place. But the sadness welling up in the bottom of his heart was both new and terribly familiar.

“Oh…” Yagi shook his head, visibly pulling a smile back onto his face.

“I like to remember her as the woman who laughed at my terrible attempts at baking, threw a better right hook than anyone I have ever met, and was kind enough to make anyone feel at home.” A mischievous light flitted across his eyes. “And as someone who was quite the prankster, if she thought I was getting too gloomy.”

Tomura nodded slowly. She sounded…fun. Like someone he wished he could have met. “I think…I think I would have liked her too.”

“I know she would have liked you, Shigaraki Tomura.” You’re Shigaraki Tomura, now. Make the world mourn for what it’s done. Make it all crumble away. Take your time, I’ll be right here…. He could still hear Sensei’s voice, smooth and oily in his mind. His eyes drifted down to his hands. They didn’t itch. Yagi had refilled his cream that morning. And the stray cat was letting him pet it now. He didn’t think he wanted to turn the world to ash. Not anymore. Was he still a villain? He’d wanted to be a hero, once, before he decided that real heroes didn’t exist. Did they? He looked back at Shimura Nana’s face. The words were out before he could second guess them.

“T-Tenko. I want you to call me Tenko. Shim-Shimura Tenko.” Yagi’s eyebrows rose in surprise as he set down the old photo, but there was warmth in his voice.

“I think I can do that, Shimura Tenko.”

________________________

The room next to his was empty. It contained exactly one twin bed, one set of drawers, and a lamp. And it was empty. There were lots of things about Izuku’s new home that made him sad. There were no windows in his bedroom, just the star lamp Kurogiri bought. He was only allowed to wander the upper levels, but he couldn’t go outside without someone with him. He hadn’t seen Dad in months since he’d gone on a business trip. Mama wasn’t coming back. The floors were always cold, and he could never get warm. And the room next to his was empty. And it was supposed to be Ten-Tomura’s.

Mama had always said if he was scared he could call a hero, just in case she couldn’t get there fast enough. She’d never told him what to do if a hero didn’t save him. Did he need saving? He wasn’t so sure. The whole evening had been a blur of panic, and Kurogiri had said they had to go, that bad people had broken into their house. But then All Might was there and he had taken Tomura but not Izuku. Why hadn’t he taken Izuku, too? All Might saved people. Did that mean Tomura needed saving but Izuku didn’t?

It wasn’t fair. Sure, Tomura was grumpy, but he played with Izuku sometimes. And he let Izuku slip into his bed at night when he had a bad dream, even if he wouldn’t share the blankets. It had made things hurt just a little less in the months since he’d come to live with Dad now that Mama was gone. Now he played hero by himself. Izuku made sure to save every single one of the stuffed animals that adorned his bed. He’d still be a hero…but it had been months and All Might hadn’t brought Tomura back. He wasn’t so sure if he wanted to be like All Might anymore.

Chapter 2: Chapter 2

Chapter Text

Soft, early mornings had always been Toshinori’s favorite time of day. There was something dear to him in the smell of the air, the hesitant colors that quickly grew bold with the rising sun as he sipped on his tea and took in the velvety silence of a peaceful Saturday. An intern at his agency showed him a whole video on how to make pancakes look like animals, so perhaps he could make them for Tenko for breakfast. But that could wait a little longer—Toshinori had discovered that Tenko adored his sleep, and so with nowhere to be today, he likely wouldn’t rise until at least 10:30.

There was a peaceful feeling in his chest that drew a smile from the hero as he watched steam swirling up, caught by the soft light. Mornings like this, full of peace and contentment reminded him of why he became a hero. Just now, he could even hear the soft call of the birds murmuring good morning to the dewey grass—

“Wait no!” The panicked shout was punctuated by an earth shattering crash and a loud, possessed sounding wail coming from Tenko’s room. Toshinori shoved his chair back from the table, nearly falling over in panic as he raced down the hallway. He should have expected it. All For One’s network was extensive. Of course if the boy was important enough to be treated as an asset he would have been in danger of being tracked. He should have been more careful, he…he couldn’t have Tenko pay the price for his own stupidity. Toshinori burst through the door, ready to grab Tenko and remind whoever was bold enough to attack them in their own home exactly why breaking into All Might’s home was a bad idea, and stopped dead.

“Nyana stop it, I’m rescuing you!” The wailing was coming from the ground, where Tenko wrestled with a fluffy ball of grey fury, boy barely distinguishable from…cat? Both froze, staring up at Toshinori with wide eyes mid-wrestle. Behind them, the window that led to the back yard sat open, and a shattered vase lay on the floor, beginning to give him an idea of what had happened.

At least it wasn’t a villain. All Might thought that would be a simpler problem to solve. His parenting books had not prepared him for this. “...Am I interrupting something, Tenko?”

Tenko had yet to move. “Uhhh…well…she’s um, she’s really friendly Yagi.” The cat took Tenko’s lapse in concentration to bite him on the nose before seemingly deciding that she had punished him enough and licking the wound. Toshinori now recognized the stray cat he had watched Tenko slowly befriend over the past six months.

“I…can see that. Were you planning on telling me that we were getting a cat Tenko?” The cat fixed him with a disdainful look as Tenko rapidly wilted, curling in on himself and the cat.

“I…I was…I thought she should be comfortable inside first. And…she’s not got a home and I…I’m not sorry Yagi! I mean…I guess maybe a little I didn’t mean to break the vase but she’s alone and…and…please can we keep her Yagi?” Toshinori knew he should probably be somewhat upset. But the boy had come so far, life slowly filling those wide, nervous eyes now fixed on him. After all the world had dealt this child, Toshinori could afford to be a little indulgent sometimes.

He knelt down, smiling at his charge. “I suppose we’ll need to add cat food to the grocery list. Perhaps you can be in charge of making a list of all the things she’ll need and we can go find them this afternoon. If we’re going to keep her you have to help take care of her, does that sound fair?”

Tenko’s mouth dropped into a round “o” for a second before he nodded eagerly, eyes shining in a way that warmed Toshinori’s heart. Standing, Toshinori closed the window before moving back toward the door. “I’ll give you some time to get acquainted with…” A sentence that had not registered in his mind in his initial panic now caught up with him. “...did you say Nyana?” Tenko flushed a brilliant red, scowling and looking anywhere but at Toshinori.

“Y-yeah. Nyana…Nyana Shimura…” Toshinori felt his jaw drop. He’d been telling the boy stories here and there about Nana, but in no way could he have ever predicted this outcome. His master would have loved this. From Tenko’s arms, Nyana fixed Toshinori with a baleful glare before letting out a loud yowl. Toshinori couldn’t help it. He threw back his head and laughed until there were tears in the corner of his eyes, and despite Tenko’s vehement protests that it was a cool name, a tiny smile pulled at the corners of his lips.

When he finally hiccuped himself into some semblance of calm, grinning widely Toshinori declared, “Well, welcome to the family then, Shimura Nyana. Pancakes will be ready in just a bit.”

“Shut up Yagi!” Conceding defeat, Toshinori retreated to the kitchen, still chuckling under his breath. You really would have loved him, Master. I know I do.

________________

“No! I already told you I don’t want to do it, and I’m doing fine here without a bunch of...of snotty nosed spoiled brats around me anyway!” Toshinori bit back the urge to bury his face in his hands. They had been talking in circles for the past forty-three minutes. Toshinori had never claimed to have the best grasp of time, but now the kitchen clock sat just behind Tenko’s head, taunting him. The boy in question was clutching Nyana, perched angrily at the kitchen table. Puns aside, Toshinori privately referred to her as Satan. Maybe it really was his master reincarnated as a cat to repay him for how difficult he himself was as a young man. But back to the matter at hand. Both Tenko and Nyana were fixing him with identical, disdainful glares, defiance radiating off the pair in waves.

“Tenko we’ve been preparing for this for weeks, it’s time. You’ll enjoy being around more people your age, and–”

“I don’t care about people my age. They’re all stupid and boring and…and they’re all scared of…of stupid stuff.” Something in Toshinori’s mind clicked. Of course. Despite his rapid progress in other areas, Tenko had regressed as far as his view of his own quirk came. And this week had been a hard one. They’d been through half a week of the newest inane cartoon about the adventures of Endeavor and All Might, Tenko unable to sleep for more than a few hours at a time.

“They won’t be afraid of you. And if anyone is, then they were not worth making friends with anyway.” Tenko, huffed, looking down.

“I don’t care what they think. I already told you I don’t need friends.”

“Whether or not you need them, it’s nice, not having to be alone.” Toshinori had seen the glances Tenko threw at the boys playing in parks when they were out. He never once asked Toshinori if he could play too. But the longing was there.

“I..I don’t…” Toshinori remained silent, letting the boy parse through his thoughts. He’d only just started to be more open about his feelings rather than immediately hiding under a blanket of anger. Finally, Tenko looked at him. “I could kill them, T-Toshinori. I don’t…I don’t want to hurt someone.”

Toshinori felt his heart crack a little, as it always did when he saw how deep the pain Tenko carried. Then his pager rang and they both froze, looking at one another. Toshinori had only just recently been cleared for partial active duty, and only on the condition that detective Tsukauchi watched Tenko while he patrolled or dealt with missions. He didn’t trust anyone else with the boy yet. Tsukauchi found the boy’s somewhat snappy nature hilarious. He could give as much as he got without stepping on Tenko’s admittedly hairpin delicate sense of what was too far, and with each visit Toshinori had watched with some fascination as an odd sort of kinship formed between the two.

“The fact that you’re worried about hurting someone makes me confident that you won’t, Tenko. You’re going to be okay, I promise. Just…just keep thinking about it. We can talk about it more later.” Why did there have to be a villain attack now of all times? “Come on, we need to get to the station.” It only hit him much later, in the middle of the battle he was called to, that Tenko had called him Toshinori, and he wasn’t ashamed to admit his eyes got a little watery.

_____________

Antagonizing Detective Tsukauchi while at the police station was one of Tenko’s favorite pastimes. At first, he’d been genuinely trying to upset the man, terrified that someone would take him away before Yagi could come back, and his only solution was to cause as much trouble as he could so they would bring Yagi back before one of the policemen could lock Tenko away in jail. In hindsight it hadn’t been the best plan. But after he realized that he wasn’t about to get locked away in a hole for the rest of eternity, pushing detective Tsukauchi’s buttons had become something of a game.

Or at least it would be a game if Tenko could figure out what would actually ruffle the detective. No matter what he did, Tsukauchi just met it with an easy smile and sometimes the slight roll of his eyes, and Tenko could just feel that the man was laughing at him. Which led him to his current mission. Yagi had looked worried when he thought Tenko wasn’t looking, which meant that he was going to be gone longer than normal, so he had plenty of time to come up with a plan.

First, he would get some snacks from the breakroom. Lull them into a false sense of security. And if it satisfied the growling in his stomach then that was also a win. Swinging open the door, Tenko was both pleased and surprised to find it empty, which meant that he could finally try some of the coffee that everyone said he wasn’t supposed to have yet. Which was dumb, he wasn’t a baby. Hurrying over to the pot, he poured himself a glass of the liquid before surveying the various sugars that went into it. The coffee by itself smelled pretty good…maybe he’d skip the sugars before someone came in and took it from him.

As if summoned, the door opened behind him, and Tenko froze, hands tightening around the cup, shoulders curling a little before he reminded himself that Yagi said it was safe here. Slowly, he turned to find a particularly scruffy looking police officer in the doorway. Interestingly enough, the man did not immediately rush over to take his contraband, but simply stared, flat eyed at Tenko, who put on his best scowl, glaring right back at the officer. Maintaining eye contact,Tenko brought the cup to his lips and sipped. It was bitter. He fought a scowl that tried to twist his features. Nasty. But try to take it now officer scruffy face.

The officer raised an eyebrow before advancing, reaching forward and Tenko braced himself for a fight, before the man reached over his head, taking the whole pot and producing a beaten up thermos from one of the many pockets of his pants, emptying the rest of the contents into it. Now that he really looked at him, the man wasn’t dressed like a normal cop. Or at least none of the cops Tenko had seen at the station—he had on a baggy jumpsuit, a huge white scarf, and bright yellow goggles. But Yagi said only cops came into this part of the station, which meant that he was safe, because while the policemen knew not to take him to jail, Tenko still wasn’t so sure about other heroes. An undercover policeman, then?

Maybe he hadn’t been informed that Tenko wasn’t allowed to have coffee yet.Their mistake. Edging over to the table of pastries, Tenko watched as the officer inhaled deeply, taking a small sip of the coffee before abruptly tipping his head back and chugging the rest. What. Tenko didn’t know a lot about coffee, but a deep, highly unsettled part of him said that wasn’t supposed to happen.

Bloodshot eyes returned to Tenko, briefly flicking to his cup of coffee and back to the boy’s face. The other eyebrow quirked up expectantly and Tenko flushed. That was a challenge, he just knew it. He wasn’t about to get outdone by officer scruffy face. Fixing the officer with his most disdainful glare, Tenko mirrored the motion and gulped down the rest of the lukewarm, gritty, bitter brew. Disgusting. Yagi was right when he said he was protecting Tenko from coffee. Refusing to give this strange officer the satisfaction of seeing just how wrong he had been about coffee, Tenko took a defiant munch of his croissant.

They stared at one another in silence for another tense moment before the tell tale footsteps of detective Tsukauchi echoed in the hallway, and Tenko, recognizing he was about to be made, fled, snagging two more croissants off the tray and breaking off his staring match with the officer in favor of fleeing with his stolen goods. As the door clicked shut and Tenko rounded the corner, a low monotone drawl slipped out, definitely not the detective’s.

“Tsukauchi…is it bring your kid to work day?”

________________

“Mic! Yamada, wait!” Hizashi turned, somewhat startled to see All Might jogging up to him. Around them, police were processing and loading villains into vans. Miraculously, there had been no casualties despite the danger surrounding the Higuchi gang. This was one of the first major partnerships between agencies he’d been called in with, and working with All Might was unexpected, but the man had been surprisingly cooperative with the team. Not that Hizashi had anything against the number one hero, he was pretty cool, but he was impressed. However, that did not give the older hero a good reason to seek him out after all was said and done.

“All Might! What can I do for ya?” All Might skidded to a halt beside him, grinning widely, though Hizashi could read an edge of nervousness on it, carefully hidden if you didn’t know what to look for. But Hizashi had years of practice reading micro expressions, so he liked to consider himself somewhat well-versed.

“I have…well, it’s a bit of a personal matter I’d like to speak to you about.” Huh…color Hizashi confused, because he could not for the life of him figure out where this was going.

“Shoot, I’m all ears!” All Might chuckled, Hizashi’s use of English successfully breaking some of the tension in his frame.

“You see, I read your profile for the mission briefing, and I noticed, well,” the older hero lowered his voice, “I noticed that you have support gear for hearing. And were that to malfunction in the field you would effectively lose your hearing.” Hizashi could not claim to know where this conversation was going, but it definitely hadn’t been here. His deafness, while he was not remotely ashamed of it, was not public knowledge for good reason. Even in missions it was only made available on a need-to-know basis, as it would make Hizashi’s job much harder if villains got wind of it.

Hizashi crossed his arms somewhat cautiously, keeping a jovial bounce to his voice. “You did your homework, All Might! But what does that have to do with you?”

All Might jumped as if scalded, reaching up and scratching his neck. “My apologies, Yamada, I don’t mean to sound like I’m questioning your competence in the field. The numbers alone show that and I look forward to watching you progress in your career! But I’m asking because my…umm…my foster son has a quirk that is both destructive and self-destructive.” The larger man seemed to wilt somewhat, his voice turning sad. “He’s afraid to use it, afraid of hurting people, and he’s isolating himself because of it. I had hoped you…well…you’re a rising hero, already in the top fifty with your own radio show, friends surrounding you…I’d hoped maybe you could speak to him…” He trailed off, fixing Hizashi with a hopeful gaze.

“Of course I’ll chat with the lil’ listener! Can’t have him growing up like that!” Hizashi didn’t have to fake the sincerity in his voice despite his surprise. He did know a thing or two about destructive quirks. Voice hadn't been a picnic to master. And no kid should be afraid of their own quirk. Besides, he loved working with kids! Seriously, maybe he would look into teaching someday, though Shota might kill him if he took on a third job.

“Thank you, Yamada, though I must warn you, he’s…a little prickly with strangers until you get to know him.”

Now that made Hizashi snort, a wry grin playing across his lips. “Don’t worry, All Might! I’ve got plenty of experience with grumpy characters. I’m sure we’ll get along great. Does Wednesday afternoon work? I can swing by after the show.”

After setting the details with All Might, Hizashi’s head was spinning. He’d also wondered about All Might’s slow return to hero work, but this was not remotely what he had expected. He was more than happy to help a kid with similar problems to his own—damn, he’d forgotten to ask All Might what his quirk was. Hopefully the kid hadn’t deafened half a daycare already or something. Temporarily deafened, but Hizashi still winced a little whenever he thought of that mishap. Oh, he didn’t know the kid’s age either. Oops. But hey if he could tell the kid that life gets better he would! And Hizashi would know, his life was pretty great, if he did say so himself, and he did. Grinning, Present Mic headed toward home. Man Shota was going to love this.

___________________

“Ya know, listener–”

“I’m not listening, so you can’t call me that.” Tenko glanced at the man Toshinori had said was “just stopping by for dinner.” As if he would fall for that. Toshinori wasn’t as sneaky as he thought. This man was here for Tenko, and Tenko did not want to talk to him.

“Man! You remind me of someone so much, you wouldn’t believe how much you two are alike. You’re like a mini–”

“I already told Toshinori I’m not going to school, so you can go home now.” He stubbornly went back to digging for worms in the rose bed. He wanted to see if he could make a worm farm in a jar. Instead, the man plopped down on the grass, peering kindly at Tenko over rectangle glasses.

“Yeah, he mentioned that you didn’t really want to go to school because of your quirk. Can I tell you a secret?” Tenko blinked. He’d been expecting the man to deny it, to treat him like a baby who didn’t know things, not this. He dropped a worm into his jar and turned to properly look at the man for the first time. He was wearing jeans and a plain green t-shirt, long blonde hair held back by a half-bun. His face was open and cheerful, kind without being condescending.

“...What?”

“When I was younger, I had a really hard time controlling my quirk. It’s called Voice, and I can get loud enough to permanently damage people’s hearing. It only got stronger as I got older, too, so now I can knock over buildings. Or even kill someone if I’m too loud.” Tenko frowned. His name’s Present Mic, Ten-Tomura, and his quirk is voice and it’s so cool! He’s pretty new but he can do so much with his quirk, I just know he’s going to be one of the best heroes someday! Do you think I could meet him once my quirk comes and I’m a hero too?

“You’re Present Mic.” The man’s jaw dropped before morphing into a wide grin.

“Ya got me there, listener! Good job, most people don’t recognize me without the hair gel! But yeah I’m Present Mic.”

“You’re a hero.”

“Yep!” Tenko frowned, a little confused. He knew Present Mic was loud, but he didn’t know that Voice could kill people.

“But you were born with a villain’s quirk.” Like me. Present Mic just laughed quietly, looking totally unbothered.
“Nah, I like helping people too much for that. Sure my quirk could hurt people, but it’s me using it, ya dig?” Tenko wasn’t sure, but he nodded anyway.

Present Mic reached up to one of his ears and popped a small device out, holding it out for Tenko to see. “Here’s the secret. See this? It’s a hearing aid. My quirk came pretty early, so when it showed up I ended up crying so loudly that I made myself deaf. Nobody could even get close to me without losing their hearing either, so they had to wait until a deaf hero could come and help calm me down.”

“My…my quirk makes my skin come off without the medicine Toshinori buys.” Tenko wasn’t sure what prompted him to say it out loud, but he couldn’t seem to stop the words from slipping out. “It’s called Decay. If I touch anything I can turn it into ash.” Things he decayed didn’t start as ash, but Tenko didn’t want to think about that.

Present Mic let out a low whistle, popping the hearing aid back into his ear. “That’s a pretty cool quirk you’ve got there, listener. Sounds a lot like my friend Thirteen’s quirk. She just graduated from hero school, and her quirk can suck anything into it like a black hole and turn it into dust.” Tenko’s jaw dropped. That…that sounded a lot like him. And she was a hero?

“How…how is she a hero if her quirk kills everything it touches?” Present Mic smiled again, and somehow Tenko didn’t feel babied by the understanding in his gaze.

“Well, there are lots of different kinds of heroes. Thirteen works as a rescue hero, so she can disintegrate rubble from earthquakes and other disasters that trap people. But even when she does fight villains directly, she’s trained hard to find ways to use her quirk that won’t kill people, even villains.” Someone who could kill with a touch was a hero? Someone like Tenko?

Present Mic continued, seemingly unaware that he had just upended Tenko’s entire worldview. “Ya see, it’s really not the quirk that matters but how you learn to use it. And learning to use our quirks is part of growing up, and accidents happen. Sometimes they’re horrible, and they hurt a lot, but that’s even more of a reason to learn to use our quirks right, not pretend they don’t exist. And then we get to choose what we want to do with our lives, not let the fear of what might happen do it.”

Tenko was silent, chewing on the inside of his lip. His throat felt tight. For the first time in a long time, he imagined himself doing the things he watched the kids in the park doing. Climbing trees, playing tag, pretending to fly on the swings. Pretending to float like…like Grandma Nana. He wanted that. And the desire, the hope for that future, it hurt.

“How…how do I do that?” That wasn’t everything Tenko wanted to say, his words loaded with feelings he couldn’t convey if he tried. But Present Mic just flashed a small, lopsided grin, a knowing look in his eyes.

“You take it one step at a time, kiddo. It looks like you’ve already got plenty of people who are here to help you out, and now,” the hero popped finger guns at his own chest, “you’ve got one more.” Tenko couldn’t help the treacherous giggle that slipped past his lips, Present Mic’s grin widening at the response.

Tenko wasn’t sure what hero work was anymore. Sensei said it was dazzling the masses into compliance. Toshinori said it was saving people’s hearts as he made cat shaped pancakes. Present Mic had talked to him without making him feel dumb. Thirteen saved people who had no real hope of getting rescued. Wanna play heroes with me, Tomura? Tenko wasn’t sure what made a hero a hero anymore, but he wanted to find out.

____________________

Izuku sniffed under the covers, trying his best to cry quietly, though little whimpers escaped every now and then. He couldn’t stop the trembling. He was so scared the monster was going to come and get him next. Mama had said that monster’s weren’t real. That all he had to do was look under the bed and there would just be dust bunnies. But she’d always let Izuku crawl into bed with her and make shadow puppets by the light of the nightlight until he was brave enough to snuggle up to her side and go to sleep again.

But there was a monster here. It wasn’t under his bed, but it was here. And it had Dad’s voice and Dad’s smile. Go on, Izuku, see if you can take it. Put your hand here, right on his forehead. Good. A fresh wave of sobs ripped through him. He didn’t know what the monster wanted, but when he couldn’t do it, it had just patted his head gently. Like this. The man on the table hadn’t been awake. But his eyes had opened for the lightning that jerked him like a puppet until he wasn’t moving anymore. Izuku wasn’t sure if he was sleeping. Don’t worry, we’ve got time. And I’m right here to help you. We can try again tomorrow.

He wanted Kacchan and his yelling. He wanted Mama. He wanted Tomura and his grumbles back. He wanted…he wished All Might had taken him too. Why hadn’t All Might taken him? Was there something wrong with Izuku that All Might knew and Izuku didn’t?

It had been ten months. Ten whole months and All Might hadn’t brought Tomura back. And he hadn’t come to get Izuku either. Ten whole months since Dad went on a business trip and a monster with his voice and his smile came back. Come here, son, I have something special to show you. The monster had called him son, and Dad had not come back. Izuku did not want to think of the alternative. That Dad had been a monster in disguise the whole time. If that was true, what did that make Izuku? Was that what All Might knew about him?

It wasn’t fair! All Might didn’t get to decide if Izuku was a monster, did he? Izuku didn’t want to be a monster, he was going to be a hero. A hero like…like…he didn’t know anymore. He wanted to be like All Might, to save everyone with a smile and make everyone feel safe. But All Might had taken Tomura, not Izuku. All Might had left him alone with the monster. He wasn’t sure if All Might made him feel safe anymore. The thought only made him break into more miserable sobs, and he stayed there until exhaustion lulled him under, and he finally slept.

Chapter 3: Chapter 3

Chapter Text

What’s your favorite animal, Tomura?

“I don’t have one. Pets are stupid.” Dogs. It used to be dogs. But Tomura couldn’t look at dogs without feeling sick. He hated dogs now.

“O-oh. I like the seals at the zoo. And the cloud leopards. D-do you like the zoo Tomura?” He and Hana used to beg their mother to give them money for the zoo. Hana’s favorite was the butterfly house. He’d always find her there once he’d finished gawking at the giraffes, covered in butterflies in some corner, a bright smile on her face.

“...It’s fine I guess. Giraffes are cool.” A wide grin split the green haired boy’s face, an ecstatic sparkle filling them as he bounced a little in place.

“I like giraffes too! M-maybe Kurogiri could take u-us to the zoo if we ask really nicely!” Hana used to smile like that too. Tomura wanted to hate Izuku for it. But Sensei said they were going to be a team. Hana had said that to him too, once.

“Yeah, maybe.” A thought struck him, and glancing back at the younger boy, slouching toward the kitchen for a snack, Tomura added “I bet we could steal a penguin.” He turned his head away so the small smile that flickered across his face at Izuku’s high pitched giggle didn’t show.

Tenko hadn’t been to the zoo since before he came to live with Sensei and hadn’t had the courage to bring it up to Toshinori. But, scowling around from his perch on one of the swings on the edge of the recess yard, he figured this was probably the same thing. The school was the kind where they were allowed to use quirks at recess as long as nobody got hurt…which Tenko thought sourly was asking for trouble no matter how good it was supposed to be for ‘development.’

All around him, children of various ages swarmed over play equipment. A group of boys were diving down the slide, a pale boy with nearly translucent skin giving them a massive push by creating a breeze as they jumped. A pair of girls were playing with little mud figures that gamboled about their ankles, giggling wildly. It looked like a bunch of kids were playing some kind of game of tag that involved scrambling about the jungle gym like monkeys. After so long of just being around a few people at a time…it was all overwhelming. He wanted to go back to Toshinori. To go…to go home.

“Umm…Do you want me to push you?” Tenko jumped, flailing ungracefully for a second as he whipped his head around to see a girl with snow white hair and little streaks of red speckled throughout her ponytail. She was twisting her hands together nervously, a hopeful look in her eyes, rocking back and forth a little with the question.

“Why would I want you to push me? ”

“Maybe we can take turns? And…and I thought it might be lonely because the other swing is broken so your friends can’t swing with you.” The girl pushed up blue-framed rectangle glasses, still fixing him with that look.

Tenko scowled. “So you just want something from me. Well too bad, I don’t want anything from you so you can leave.” The words were out before he could think better of them, and he groaned internally. He’d promised Toshinori he’d at least try to be okay, but look how good that was going. Kids were stupid. The girl in front of him looked down, arms hugging herself.

“That’s not what I—”

“Hey, who died and made you king of jerkville!” A boy with a shock of white hair was stomping out from a nearby cluster of trees where some kids had been playing campfire earlier, blue eyes burning with anger. Tenko blinked in surprise. He recognized the boy from his class, though he didn’t know the other’s name.

The girl let out a squeak, flushing red. “Touya i-it’s okay you don’t have to–”

“Shut up Fuyumi!” The boy turned his glare back to Tenko. “Say you’re sorry. She just wanted to play. You don’t get to be mean to her.”

Tenko hopped off the swing to stand face to face with the boy–Touya– scowling. “Didn’t you just tell her to shut up? That’s not nice either.” The girl–Fuyumi–looked between the two of them nervously as Touya opened his mouth in outrage, only to close it again angrily, looking like he was thinking hard.

“Maybe you could both say sorry? And…and I’m sorry too. I didn’t mean to make it sound like I just wanted to use the swings. I’m Todoroki Fuyumi, maybe we can be friends?” She offered him a hesitant smile. Tenko stared at her in surprise, an unfamiliar feeling of shame welling up in him.

“I’m…I’m sorry.” He stumbled over the unfamiliar words, feeling incredibly out of his depth. After a moment he added hastily, “My name’s Tenko. Shimura Tenko.”

“I’m sorry ‘sis.” Touya mumbled sullenly, shoes scuffing the dust under the swing set. Fuyumi giggled, looking more than a little smug at the apology, making Touya flush a darker red. His eyes caught Tenko’s again. “I’m Touya. Todoroki Touya. If Fuyumi’s your friend then I guess we can be friends too as long as you aren’t mean to her again. What’s your quirk?” Tenko’s heart stuttered, throat suddenly dry. Nobody had asked him that yet, mostly because he’d managed to avoid all conversation with his classmates up to this point. He scowled.

“Decay. If it scares you then go away. I don’t have time for babies.” Fuyumi and Touya exchanged a glance before shrugging.

“Sounds like a good way to have lots of flowers in your garden—”

“Oh, cool! Mine’s Blueflame! I’m gonna be a hero like my Dad! What do you wanna be?” Touya was grinning widely now, only fueling Tenko’s utter and absolute confusion. They didn’t care? Gardens?

“I…I don’t know.”

Touya shrugged, looking unconcerned.

“That’s okay too! We’ve got a long time until high school!” One of the boys in the trees waved at Touya, gesturing at a stick fort they were building and he tossed Tenko one last grin as he turned to run back. “You can come play wilderness heroes with us when you’re done with the swings! Bye Shimura!” Tenko was left blinking at Fuyumi, who wrinkled her nose at the dust Touya’s abrupt departure had kicked up.

Tenko took a deep breath, squaring his shoulders. He wasn’t scared. Not one bit. He could do this. “Umm…I’ll push you first, if you want?”

Fuyumi’s face lit up, a bright grin splitting her face.“Really? I never get to go first! Thanks Shimura!” Tenko found his own lips curling back, a light feeling bubbling in his stomach. He didn’t remember having friends before. Now he had two. Toshinori was going to be so excited. Not that Tenko cared that much. He just didn’t want the man to get that worried mother hen look he always got when Tenko accidentally reminded him of where he’d come from. Yeah.

“Hop on, I can make it go high if I run under it.”

_______________________

“Toshinori’s pancakes are pretty good.” Tenko was sitting on a large block of concrete, legs swinging, red shoes scuffing against the rough surface as he looked down at Hizashi. The hero hummed absently from the ground where he was running a finger down the list of items he’d hidden around the training ground.

“Oh yeah, Listener?” Once Toshinori had deemed him safe, Hizashi had been taking the kid out once or twice a month throughout the summer and now, with late fall approaching and several conversations with Yagi and Tenko’s psychologist, carefully hidden from Tenko’s ears, he’d begun encouraging the kid to use his quirk in a controlled environment.

“Yeah. He makes omelets too. The American ones.” Hizashi grinned to himself. He had an inkling of what Tenko wanted, but he was going to let the kid decide whether or not he was going to say it.

“Sounds pretty tasty! I do like American breakfast, but I always have to fight the cats for my bacon.” A huffed laugh came from above him, which Hizashi had come to understand was the Tenko version of most kids’ giggles. Watching Shimura Tenko was like watching a kid on mute, all the usual childish noise silenced, only slipping out here and there when he got well and truly carried away by something. But he’d been making remarkable progress over the past few months, and Hizashi was overjoyed that while the kid was a spitfire and could roast him almost as well as Shota, he was beginning to act like a kid–the volume was turning up. It was still quiet, but it was there.

“Toshinori’s making breakfast for dinner on Friday.” Hizashi glanced up to see Tenko scowling, arms crossed, nose twisted up in thought. Hizashi knew this. Yagi himself had invited him and Shota last week when the ordeal had been planned, but had asked Hizashi to let Tenko invite him himself.

“Well then, it sounds like you’re in for a treat then. Eat a few pancakes for me, okay?”

“You can come eat some. If you want. Toshinori likes feeding people.” Hizashi looked up to see Tenko staring out over the piles of rubbles in the maze of concrete, neatly reduced to such by Hizashi’s own quirk earlier that day, very deliberately not looking at Hizashi himself.

“And would you enjoy having me there to help you eat those pancakes, or do you want it to just be you and Toshinori-san? I know it’s a special day, so what you want is important, ya dig? You’re the one in charge of it.”

Tenko bit his lip, fidgeting with one of his gloves. “I think…I want you to come try Toshinori’s pancakes. And you said your husband would want to meet Nyana. He can come too I guess.” Hizashi grinned up at him, standing and dusting off his knees.

“I think we’d love to come and visit you, yo! Thanks for offering!” Tenko threw a pebble into one of the nearby piles of rubble, shrugging, though Hizashi could easily read the excited gleam in his eyes.

“Toshinori likes having people, so you’d better actually come.” Hizashi smiled, reaching out to gently ruffle the kid’s hair. He didn’t accept touch easily, and Hizashi had spent the past few months carefully filtering his movements so as to never overstep the boy’s proverbial line in the sand. He’d only recently started welcoming brief and casual touch.

“I wouldn’t miss it. Now! Today we’re playing a game, and I wanna see if you can beat my score. This,” he produced a hand drawn map with several red Xs, “is your treasure map. It’s buried and you’ve got to find it. I’m gonna give you ten minutes to get as many of the treasures out of the rubble using your quirk, ya dig?” Tenko swallowed, looking nervous, hands twisting together.

“There’s nobody else around?” Hizashi nodded, crossing his heart for effect.

“Just the two of us! And…I’ve got a secret prize if you manage to beat my high score. You up for a challenge?” The words had the intended effect as Tenko puffed up, tugging off his gloves.

“You’re old, so that won’t be hard.” Hizashi grabbed his chest dramatically, fanning himself with one of the gloves.

“From my own sweet listener! Well then, if I’m old then you’d better hurry before I die of old age and you lose the game.” He flopped over onto Tenko’s rock for effect. The boy snatched the map from Hizashi’s hands, darting off among the piles of rubble. Hizashi saw him skid to a halt in front of the first pile, setting down the map and taking a deep breath before placing a hand on a large piece of a highway barrier that hid the first of the chocolate gold coins he’d distributed. Then the barrier sprouted a spider web of cracks and crumbled into dust.

It was hard not to laugh at the triumphant ‘ha!’ the boy let out, snatching up the prize and fumbling with the map to find the next spot. Toshinori was right when he said Tenko’s quirk was incredibly powerful and getting more so as the kid grew and gained more control. It was rewarding to see him working so hard even when his hands had shaken with repressed anger and fear when they’d first started their lessons a couple months earlier. And now, well, Hizashi watched Tenko using his quirk in a game, such a far cry from before, and wondered if Toshinori would be upset if he bribed Tenko into calling him Uncle Hizashi.

____________

“Toshinori, they’re here!” Tenko pounded down the hallway to open the door for Yamada. After a long week of school, breakfast night had finally arrived, and Yamada was coming over for pancakes. He was bringing his husband, who Tenko had never met, but he assumed he was probably okay if he liked cats. If Nyana liked him and Yamada had married him then he must be at least a little good.

Flinging open the door, Tenko looked up to see Yamada in casual clothes, and standing next to him in a dark sweater was–

“Scruffy Cop?!” The scruffy cop in question raised an eyebrow.

“Coffee Thief.” Yamada looked between the two of them, confusion painting his face. Tenko rounded on him.

“You’re married to him?” Yamada threw an arm around Scruffy Cop’s shoulders, pulling him close.

“Yep! Didn’t realize that you knew each other, listener. This is my husband, Aizawa Shota.” Aizawa fixed Yamada with a flat look, looking distinctly tired.

“This is the weird kid I met in the station. The one I told you about.” Yamada’s mouth dropped into a little round ‘O’ before he started laughing.

“Oh, that’s great! Who woulda thought…Well, I guess that’s one mystery solved.” Tenko scowled at Aizawa, who looked unimpressed, stepping aside to let the two men in the door. He thought it was rich to be called weird by a man who was dressed like a vampire mummy the last time Tenko’d seen him. Toshinori poked his head around the edge of the kitchen, wearing a little pink apron Detective Tsukauchi had bought him as a joke, grinning widely.

“Ah! Yamada, Aizawa, thank you for coming! Please, come in, dinner’s almost ready.” He bustled back around the corner, humming to himself and leaving Tenko standing awkwardly in the entryway.

“Uhh, what he said.” He turned leading the two of them through the living room and into the kitchen. But upon reaching the kitchen, Tenko realized that only Yamada was standing behind him, Scruffy–Aizawa–had stopped in the living room, looking to be engaged in a staring contest with Nyana, who blinked back at him from her throne on the back of the couch. Tenko felt a bubble of suspicion forming in his chest, ready to defend Nyana just in case, but neither man nor cat moved. Then, slowly, Aizawa produced something from his pocket, holding it out for Nyana to sniff, then eagerly snatch up and eat, letting out a chirruping meow after a moment and brushing against the man’s hand.

“You’re a very pretty little thing aren’t you.”

A tiny smile flickered across Aizawa’s face as he gently rubbed a finger across Nyana’s cheek. The bubble of suspicion popped, and Tenko found himself grinning proudly. She was a very pretty cat. Even though he was the weirdest cop he’d ever met, at least Aizawa had taste. And even though he was the scruffy coffee cop, maybe he could give Yamada’s husband a chance. Speaking of which…he grabbed Yamada’s wrist, dragging him up to the stove.

“Yamada, what's your favorite animal? Toshinori can make you one out of pancakes.” Yamada laughed as Toshinori grinned proudly, flexing with the spatula.

“I hope your favorite is a duck, a cat, or a frog! They’re all I can make so far, I’m afraid!”

“Well lucky for you, as of five seconds ago my favorite animal is a duck!” Mic declared, throwing finger guns at the older hero.Tenko snorted, slipping past the men to grab some plates. He could remember, very vaguely, that it had made his mother happy when he’d done that. But their family dinners had never been like this. There was no Yamada, with his bright laughter, or Toshinori encouraging him to get seconds, and Tenko found that he even enjoyed snarking back and forth with Aizawa after a while. Ganging up on Toshinori together was even more fun. He wondered if this was what families were normally like.

Tenko thought he liked it.

____________________

Toshinori blew out a contented sigh, sipping a cup of herbal tea and idly thumbing through a book one of his high school interns was reading. He tried to keep up with what the kids were reading—it always gave him good talking points, and he rather liked the little demigod child and his adventures so far. Maybe he’d read them to Tenko.

Overall, he considered the evening a success–Yamada was kind and cheerful as always, Aizawa, while his typical reticent self, had also somehow managed to worm his way into Tenko’s good graces in less than a day, which was impressive. Dinner itself had been full of laughter, and seeing Tenko laugh freely had made being the butt of several jokes worth it.

He inhaled the steam of his tea and took another sip. A whole year. Tenko had been with him for a whole year. He could say something like he couldn’t imagine his life without the boy, but the thing was: he could. Toshinori could clearly picture his life without Tenko, and he didn’t like it nearly as much.

The creak of a door and the soft thump of feet announced Tenko’s arrival seconds before he plopped down on the couch next to Toshinori, who frowned down in concern at him. The fact that he sat directly beside Toshinori instead of in his usual corner itself belied the fact that he’d either had a nightmare, or tonight was one of the nights when something nameless frightened him too much to sleep.

“Did you know that Fuyumi and Touya have a baby brother?” Tenko’s knees were drawn up to his chest, voice oddly subdued.

“No, I did not know that.” Tenko nodded, eyes fixed on the blank T.V. screen. Toshinori wondered if he should put on a cartoon to help the boy relax, but he stayed still, not reaching out, not yet. He’d learned from experience that pushing too hard too soon would only result in Tenko pulling away.

“Oh, well they do.” Tenko leaned up against Toshinori, head resting on his bicep. Recognizing the signal for what it was, Toshinori set down his tea, carefully settling his arm around the boy’s small shoulders, tucking him close. They were silent for a moment before Tenko spoke again, voice small and muffled against Toshinori’s side. “...Did they find anyone after me?”

Toshinori’s heart dropped, a creeping feeling slowly moving up his spine. He answered gently. “No, we did not. You were the last of the villain’s hostages to be recovered.” It was the truth. Tenko was the last living person they’d recovered from anyone with a known connection to All For One. All of the others were corpses, many mangled beyond recognition, or, in the worst cases, looked like they would still be breathing if Toshinori had only been faster.

Tenko took a soft, shaky breath. “Oh.” He went quiet again for a long minute. “Sensei wanted me to have one.”

“A what?”

“A brother.” That was…interesting. As far as anyone had been able to determine, All For One had been conditioning Tenko to hate all heroes and society, winding him up like a personal time bomb, but this…this was a new angle, and Toshinori felt a dawning sense of unease settle in the pit of his stomach.

“And…did you get one, while you were with him?” Toshinori carefully kept his tone soft, conversational. This was incredibly delicate territory. They still didn’t know most of the details of Tenko’s tenure with All For One. Toshinori would never push the child for that information, though the few details he had broke his heart each and every time.

“Yeah. Right before…before you rescued me. He was little. He didn’t even have a quirk yet.” A flash of fluffy green hair and a tear-filled shout of ‘stay with me!’ as the swirling portal snapped shut. He only had one child in his arms. Toshinori’s heart broke again. Tenko, for once, seemed to be barely paying attention to his surroundings. “I…I wasn’t a good brother to him.” The boy’s voice was shaking now. “But…but he was. He liked to talk about quirks. And heroes. And he always wore dumb red shoes.”

When Tenko had first entered therapy, it had also been on the condition that if any vital information that would aid in taking down the remainder of All For One’s schemes came to light, it would have to be shared with the police. But in the following year Tenko almost never went into details about the specifics of his time there. Tenko’s psychologist, Miyazawa-san, had explained that she was uncertain if it was simply trauma, or even residual mental conditioning to try and stop the boy from spilling secrets were he ever to be rescued. Either way, he’d never spoken of the second boy from the night of his rescue. Exactly a year ago, almost to the hour.

“I miss him, Toshi. He didn’t belong there.” Tenko sounded terribly young, painfully lost. Toshinori tightened his arm, holding the boy a little closer. Hot guilt, shame, and grief now sat uncomfortably in his chest, a horrible reminder that no matter how fast or strong he was, he couldn’t save everyone. The thought hurt all the worse knowing an innocent child had paid the price for his failure, and now his foster son was paying it too.

“I know.” Toshinori wished he could do something to remedy the pain in Tenko’s voice.

“He…he wanted to be a hero. Like you.” Toshinori had dedicated his life to protecting the innocent, bringing joy and peace wherever he went. And those simple words, an echo of a most likely dead child’s faith in him twisted inside him like a knife.

“What was his name?”

Tenko looked up at him, eyes bright with the sheen of unshed tears. “Izuku.”

Toshinori nodded, wrapping his other arm around Tenko, gently twisting to give the boy a proper hug. All Might knew the goal he chased was unattainable, but still he kept running. Tenko’s brother believed in him, and he could only hope that he would someday be worthy of the title Symbol of Peace.

“It sounds like he would have been a great hero.”

_________________________

“S-school? I t-thought I wasn’t supposed to–to go outside Kurogiri?” Kurogiri gently lifted Izuku up, placing him on a stack of books in the desk chair.

“You are not supposed to leave the compound without someone to escort you, that is true. However, your father has decided it’s time you started school. You are of the age.” Izuku nodded hesitantly, a reluctant ember of hope flaring up despite his best efforts. Was he finally going to get to go to school and play heroes with the other kids again? Izuku liked school, and he liked his friends even more so both in the same place would be so amazing and it would mean he didn’t have to spend all day in the dark and cold compound all the time.

“When do I get to start? Do I get to walk to school? W-what about lunch? Should I help you make it, Kurogiri?”

“You start today. Right now, in fact.” Izuku fought back a flinch as the cheerful voice sounded from behind him in the doorway and the m—his Dad—appeared. “But you aren’t going to normal school, not yet. But maybe if you work hard and do well in your studies here you can go to school outside when you’re a little older.”

Izuku nodded, feeling the little ember of hope cool sadly, tears pricking at the corners of his eyes. “O-oh, okay. Why am I starting school now if I’m not big enough to do it with the other kids?”

Dad knelt in front of him. He had been moving easily now, the accident that hurt him having mostly healed. And Izuku knew why there was no hesitation when his father brushed a thumb against his cheeks, touch too cold against Izuku’s hot cheeks, brushing away the tears—he’d been there the day his Dad had taken the quirk that let him see without eyes. The lady looked like she would have given good hugs.

“Because you’re very smart, my boy. I hear you with Kurogiri–so full of questions, good ones, too. And that’s a good thing. Question everything, Izuku, and eventually you’ll be the one deciding the answers.” Izuku wished that Dad would take his hand away from his shoulder at the same time he desperately hoped that he would sweep him up into a hug. “Now, we’re going to start with something small. I want you to watch this video, and tell me everything you can think of what you see. ”

“What–what’s it about?” Dad smiled widely.

“A subject I like to call critical thinking. It’s an important skill to learn, but not one commonly taught in schools. So I’m going to teach you myself.” Izuku nodded slowly. “Here, write down your thoughts in this.” Dad handed Izuku a small notebook and a pencil, standing and brushing off his knees.

“Thank you.” Dad tilted his head, crossing his arms as he towered high above Izuku. Out of the corner of his eyes Izuku saw Kurogiri stop where he was rearranging the bookshelf to watch them.

“Thank you?” Izuku swallowed, heart beating nervously, though he wasn’t sure why. It wasn’t like the monster–Dad–-had ever hurt him, or threatened to, but the fear he felt didn’t leave.

“T-thank you, S-Sensei.” A heavy hand ruffled his hair, and Izuku leaned into the touch despite the lingering fear in his belly, lips wobbling. He missed the hugs and touches that had been a simple fact of life until Mama was gone.

“Very good. I think you’ll enjoy this–you like heroes, don’t you? It’ll be like a game.” The hand vanished from his head and pressed play on the video waiting on the laptop in front of him. “Go ahead and get started. I’ll come back later to grade your work. I expect you to do your best, Izuku.” Dad turned and left the room, motioning Kurogiri to follow.

Izuku turned to the screen, startled to see a new hero in the middle of an outright brawl in the middle of downtown. A small flicker of excitement passed through him, and slowly, Izuku picked up the pencil, watching in awe as the hero, who had some kind of quirk that allowed her to manipulate the shape of flames, and…and what looked like the kind of flames dodged a large chunk of rubble. Was that green fire? So cool! Her quirk was amazing! The hero dived down off one of the high rises, catching a young man who’d fallen off his balcony when the villain destroyed the sidewalk on wings crafted from her own flame. Izuku thought she looked like the phoenix in one of Mama’s bedtime stories.

He quickly made note of the color of her flames that shifted with her attacks and defenses, how it took a second for them to swirl brightly into a new color, wreathing about her body in the shape she pulled. It was…it was fun. Maybe this school wouldn’t be so bad. And Dad had said if he worked extra hard he could go to regular school too, once he was big enough. So Izuku did his best, handing Dad the notebook with shaking hands that evening. His father had smiled, promising to have it graded by tomorrow morning.

Remembering the hero’s fight that night, how she’d dived in to save that man without a second thought, Izuku couldn’t help but imagine what would have happened if she had been the one who’d found him and Tomura. She seemed like a good hero, gently reassuring people after the fight and turning a bright grin with a thumbs up to the camera as she left. Would she have taken Izuku with her too that night? Maybe this new school was a way for Izuku to learn all about what made them different from people who just said they were heroes. That way, when he was a hero, he’d save everyone that needed it.

Mustafu Evening News Emergency Report:

Pro Hero Firebird, Quirk: Flameshift, Found Dead in Shipping Yard.

Firebird, a new pro that has been taking Mustafu by storm, was found dead in Kanaga shipping yard after she failed to respond to a standard patrol check in. Earlier this evening Firebird responded to a call in downtown Mustafu, where she apprehended a villain attempting to destroy a local shopping mall before continuing on patrol in the eastern part of the city. After she missed her patrol check-in, her agency alerted police and other patrolling heroes, and she was discovered just before eleven tonight. Police and heroes at the scene report that foul play is suspected, though no details have been made public as of now.

Chapter 4: Chapter 4

Chapter Text

Once upon a time, there lived a little boy named Izuku. No, that didn’t sound right. Too much like a fairy tale. Izuku had never really liked knights that much–he’d always wanted to play hero. A long time ago, there lived a boy named Izuku. No, that wasn’t right either. Because it wasn’t a long time ago, it was right now. It was a dark, stormy night…No. He didn’t want to think about dark, stormy nights. They used to scare him. But now Izuku would give anything to go outside and see the sky, storm or not.

Oh right, he’s supposed to be having fun right now. Looking down at his hands, Izuku smiled, shaking his head to clear away the sad thoughts. Firebird’s signature grin stared back at him, her hands posed heroically (Izuku had made sure of it), plastic cape in perpetual flutter. Dad had said he’d done so well on his homework that he deserved a reward, ceremoniously handing Izuku the action figure and instructing Kurogiri to make katsudon for dinner. She had become his companion, taking a place of honor next to All Might on Izuku’s bedside table. Izuku still couldn’t quite bring himself to put All Might in his toy bin. So, Firebird had been teaching All Might about rescues, and All Might had been teaching Firebird and Izuku about smiling even when things are scary because that’s what heroes do.

Maybe…maybe in a time called now, there was just Izuku. He lived in a dark place with no day and no night, only awake and asleep. He was so pale now that sometimes, looking in the mirror, he thought he might be a ghost. He doesn’t think that ghosts are scary anymore–not when there are monsters that roam the painfully white halls. Not when a monster lives inside Dad. Not when he wonders when he will become one too. If this is a place for monsters, and Izuku is still here, then it must happen eventually, right? Will he stop being scared then?

“I am here!” Izuku jumped at the tinny declaration, looking down at his All Might, clenched in a white knuckled fist. Oh. He must have squeezed too hard.

“ It’s okay Mama, I am here!” He could hear Mama laughing under the blanket.

He squeezed again. “I am here!”

“ Can you tell me your name?” Izuku didn’t want to tell this man his name. He wanted Mama. The man knelt down, smiling at Izuku. “That’s a pretty cool All Might action figure. I like All Might too. My name is Detective Tsukauchi, and I’m going to hang out with you while we call your Dad, okay?”

Izuku wasn’t sure if the smile on his All Might’s face looked real. Almost against his will, his fingers closed around the figure’s torso again, palm sticky. “I! Am! Here!”

Izuku and Tomura were sitting on the bed, facing each other. He wouldn’t let Izuku touch him, but he hadn’t sent him back to his room after the bad dream either. Instead, Tomura was telling him what he was supposed to do to kidnap a penguin from the zoo. Because Tomura said penguins weren’t supposed to be in zoos and so it was okay for them to take one.

“So you’re going to go to the zookeeper and start crying while I–” A muffled boom shook the ceiling, the floor shaking underneath them. Tomura looked at the ceiling, then back at Izuku. Another boom, dust and a few small pieces of plaster raining down on them. Was it an earthquake? Both boys whipped around as the door opened to reveal Kurogiri, bright red droplets spattered across his usually pristine vest.

“It would appear we are under assault. There is no time to gather your things. It is time to leave.” Izuku stared for a second even as Tomura stood, another boom shaking the ceiling, much louder this time. He scrambled up, hurrying toward the portal Kurogiri was opening before–

“Wait, my All Might!” His All Might was lying on the bed, forgotten in the chaos. Tomura tugged on his wrist, pinky finger carefully raised, looking annoyed.

“We gotta go, brat!” Izuku dug in his heels, fruitlessly trying to free himself. He couldn’t lose All Might. It was his birthday present from Mama. He couldn’t lose that too. Then he was falling onto the cold floor as Tomura abruptly let go with a frustrated growl.

“Fine! I’ll get it, just go with Kurogiri!” Tomura stomped back over to the bed, grabbing the All Might figure. He shoved it into Izuku’s hands, pushing him toward Kurogiri’s portal.

Kurogiri sounded more worried than Izuku had ever heard. “Shigaraki Tomura, Midoriya Izuku we have to go no–”

“I am here!” The bedroom wall exploded, and Izuku’s jaw dropped as All Might smashed through, a wide grin painting his features, bright blue eyes locking onto them immediately. If All Might was here then that must mean that they needed saving! That Izuku wasn’t wrong to be scared. But he didn’t have to be anymore. All Might was here! The hero charged forward even as Kurogiri’s portal closed around Izuku and Tomura. Tomura who was a step behind Izuku. Tomura whose frightened red eyes met Izuku’s as All Might’s massive hand closed around his shoulders and yanked him away.

Izuku reached out in panic. Why hadn’t All Might grabbed him too? Why was he taking Tomura away from him? “Wait! Stay with me! To–” He didn’t get the end of the sentence out before the portal shut, and he found himself staring up at Kurogiri in horror, tears already streaming down his face. Tomura was gone.

“I am here!” Izuku forced his fingers to unclench as the All Might figure shouted again, chewing on his bottom lip. He looked in the mirror above his dresser. His eyes were shiny and itchy like they always got before he cried. He didn’t want to cry. Izuku tried pulling All Might’s smile onto his face. It looked painful, foreign, nothing like how he remembered smiles were supposed to be.

“But you aren’t here, All Might. I am.” At the soft admission he could feel wet on his cheeks where the tears slipped out despite his best efforts. But it was the truth. And Izuku knew now that there was nobody coming for him. He put All Might in the toy bin under his bed.

_______________

“You know this is basically just the animal shelter for kids.” Toshinori refrained from hiding his face in his hands as Tsukauchi choked on his coffee, Yamada gaped, and Aizawa pretended he wasn’t smiling into his capture weapon on the other side of the room. Tenko looked entirely unashamed, grinning up at Toshinori, a bright challenge sparkling there.

“Please don’t say that when your social worker gets here, Tenko.” The ten year old shrugged, slurping unrepentantly at a jelly pouch Aizawa must have somehow slipped him. Toshinori wondered if he should regret allowing Tenko to spend so much time with the two young heroes.

“What? Aizawa says that most shelters try to use foster homes to keep the animals. You were my foster home, and now you’re adopting me, but we have to go here to do that. So that basically makes this place the kid animal shelter.” Toshinori threw an arm around Tenko, giving the boy a squeeze. Tenko tended to babble when he was nervous, at least around people he trusted, and he couldn’t help the fond smile that crossed his face when the boy leaned into his embrace.

“Everything has been settled, Tenko. This is just when we sign the papers.”

“He’s right,” Yamada grinned, leaning around Aizawa to beam at Tenko. “And after we’re done with all the boring stuff it’s time for a rockin’ party yo!”

Tenko’s case was somewhat special given his connection to All For One, but Toshinori had been assured at his final interview that everything was in order. He had to thank Tsukauchi for keeping the Commission mostly out of the entire affair. Toshinori still had to interview with them, but he’d kept Tenko away from them at least. The only further stipulation on Tenko’s adoption was that his psychologist and another pro hero had to sign statements affirming that the boy was not a danger to himself or others and no longer had to be monitored by commission approved agencies or social services once the adoption was finalized and he was no longer a ward of the state. Present Mic had been more than happy to provide the pro signature, and Tenko’s psychologist had eagerly provided the other, noting how proud she was of the boy’s progress.

“Are you sure it’s okay? That I’m staying a Shimura?” Toshinori looked down, noting Tenko’s quiet words and twisting to block Tenko from view, his gut telling him that the question was only meant for his ears.

“Tenko, it makes me very happy that you’ve chosen to remember your family like that. And I’m proud to call you my son no matter what name you choose to call yourself. Or me.” A pleased smile flashed across Tenko’s face, pink coloring his cheeks.

“You’re so sappy ‘Toshi. Gross.” Toshinori laughed quietly, ruffling his hair solely for the amusem*nt of watching the boy puff up indignantly, crossing his arms with a huff.

“It’s part of my job to embarrass you sometimes now. It’s in the adoption papers my boy!”

“No it’s not!” Tenko whipped back around to stare at Toshinori before snapping to Tsukauchi, who grinned into his coffee.

“I don’t make the rules kid, don’t look at me.” Tenko turned toYamada, whose moustache was twitching in an effort to smother his smile.

“Sorry listener…we all know Yagi-san takes his job very seriously, especially when he cares about someone, ya dig?” Toshinori could barely contain his laughter as a low growl slipped past Tenko’s lips and he rounded on Aizawa, who merely raised an eyebrow.

“This is why you always read the fine print, kid.” At Tenko’s outraged gasp, Toshinori could no longer contain his laughter, Tsukauchi and Yamada following suit. Even Aizawa was chuckling quietly. Tenko smacked Toshinori’s bicep, but the excited sparkle in his eyes didn’t dim. It was then that Toshinori realized, with a specific clarity that had escaped him until the reality of the moment came crashing down in this very second: this boy was his son. Toshinori smiled.
_______________

Tenko clambered up the tree, almost trampling Touya’s heels as they finally made it to an upper branch and plopped down, panting. In the distance, he could see Rei-san talking to Toshinori. He liked Touya’s mother–she was soft and gentle, giving him small smiles and slipping them sweets when they ran past her at the park that he, Touya and Fuyumi frequented most Saturdays.

She’d looked tired when he and Toshinori had arrived today, her smile a little strained, not quite reaching her eyes. Tenko had even noticed a minute tremor in her hands when she’d set her bags down on the park bench. Touya had been grumpy recently too, opting to play by himself during recess, and Fuyumi refused to tell Tenko what was wrong with him. Looking at him, Tenko saw…well…it reminded him of himself, back when Toshinori had first rescued him.

“Toshinori said you can come over next Saturday to spend the night.” Touya glanced up at him from where he’d been picking at a pink patch of skin on his forearm.

“I can’t, I’m busy.”

Tenko frowned. “At night? With what?”

“With stuff, Tenko. I’m gonna be a hero, I can’t waste time playing around all the time. We’re going to be in middle school next year, I have to get stronger!” Tenko rolled his eyes.

“I thought the problem was that your quirk was too strong?” He eyed the burns that he could see peeking out from Touya’s t-shirt, a small bubble of concern building inside him.

Touya scowled at him. “No, it’s that my body isn’t strong enough. It’s like muscles so the more I get used to using my quirk the stronger my body will get and then I'll be good enough.” Tenko flexed his fingers, staring at his gloves. The two covered fingers on each hand, the lack of flaking skin around his wrists and neck.

“I don’t think there’s anything that’s wrong with you. If something’s wrong with you, then something’s wrong with me. ” He looked up to find Touya staring at him, eyes wide.

“That’s different–”

“No it’s not!” Tenko scowled, looking away. “You know what my quirk does to me. You know what I have to do to keep it from hurting me. Your quirk is like mine. Besides, you say nobody can say things like that about your friends. So you don’t get to say that about yourself.”

“But I’m the one who has to pass All Might–”

“Why would you want to pass him, he’s a dork.”

“Huh?” Tenko turned back to find Touya staring at him, dumbfounded, momentarily derailed. He felt a prickle of confusion before he remembered: Touya didn’t know that Toshinori was All Might. And consequently he didn’t know Tenko’s opinions on his Da–Toshinori, Toshinori and All Might were one in the same. He flushed. Oops.

“I–I mean, I think everyone says he’s way cooler than he is.” Tenko doesn’t mention that he’d seen Toshinori in full costume get clotheslined by a door frame yesterday morning because he forgot to deflate.

“He’s still the number one. And I have to get better than him. I’m gonna do it, I have to–”

“Why do you have to—”

“Because my Dad won’t look at me!” Tenko stared, suddenly not sure what he should say at the raw pain in his friend’s tone, how he angrily swiped at his face, looking up at the canopy of the tree. “He..he won’t even look at me because I’m not strong enough to be a better hero than All Might. He spends all his time with Shoto and just ignores the rest of us. But I can do it…I know I can! And then he’ll…he’ll have to…it can be like it was before. I’ve been practicing. I’ve got a plan.”

Silence fell between them, broken only by the soft breeze and distant shouts of some of the kids on the playground.

“Can I help?” Tenko twisted to face Touya, balancing precariously on their branch.

Touya mirrored him, surprise painting his face once more. “You mean it?”

Tenko shrugged. “Sure. I mean maybe Yamada has ideas on how to help your quirk stop hurting your body, he’s been helping me–”

“If I’m gonna be a hero I need to be strong on my own. I can’t be number one if I have to have stuff helping me all the time. What if a villain breaks it?” Tenko raised an eyebrow, a skill he’d mastered after an afternoon of studiously mimicking Aizawa.

“I’m pretty sure heroes have a lot of help. Sidekicks and support gear and stuff like that.” But Touya was shaking his head again.

“I know about that, but a hero has to be strong for them, too, so they can be a leader. And if I can’t get there on my own then I don’t deserve to get there anyway.” Tenko blew out a frustrated breath.

“Okay then what’s your plan?” Touya looked at his hands, a smile pulling at his face.

“It’s a secret. But Dad’ll have to start training me again after.”

“C’mon tell me!” Tenko gave Touya a small shove.

“No, I want my Dad to be the first to see it!” Touya shoved him back, an excited gleam lighting up his eyes. They both wobbled precariously for a minute.

“I still think we should talk to Yamada about stuff to help your quirk.” Tenko knew once Touya got an idea in his head, he was almost impossible to stop. It was one of the reasons they got along so well, and usually things turned out okay (except for that one time with the frog a month ago), but there was an uneasy feeling that the almost manic gleam in his friend’s eyes left in him.

“Trust me, it’s going to work.”

“If it doesn’t, then we’re talking to Yamada.” Touya rolled his eyes.

“Fine. If it doesn’t work, and it will so it won’t happen, but if it doesn’t then we can do it your way next week.” Tenko nodded. It was as good as he was going to get right now. Besides, Touya’s dad was a hero, and Touya had been training to be a hero for ages. If they were together then it would be fine.

“We should probably go down. I don’t think Fuyumi is going to find us.” Touya nodded after a moment.

“She’s always been really bad at being the seeker. C’mon, before she gets mad at me. It’s not fair, she never gets mad at you, only me.” Tenko scrambled down the tree, dodging Touya’s feet as the other boy dropped the last few feet to the ground.

“That’s not my fault. You just have a face like that. Hey!” Touya grabbed Tenko in a headlock, rubbing the other boy’s hair in a noogie. Against Touya’s martial arts experience there was not a lot Tenko could do but twist like a wet cat, fruitlessly struggling against the other boy’s grasp in a one sided wrestling match. Tenko had yet to win any of their impromptu matches. Finally, Touya let him go, laughing.

Tenko spun around. “What was that for?!” He shoved against Touya’s shoulder, cutting off his laughter for a moment.

Touya grinned, shoving back. “Nothing…I’m just glad we’re friends, Tenko.” Tenko looked away, unable to stop a small smile.

“Yeah…I guess I’m glad we’re friends too. Race you to the slides!” He shoved Touya with all his might, pitching the other boy to the ground and taking off at a dead sprint, the wind stealing his breathless laughter as Touya’s angry shouts followed in hot pursuit.

_______________

Izuku scrolled aimlessly through the videos on the hero forum, face scrunched up in thought. Dad had said he had to find the hero to analyze for his critical thinking lesson so that this time it was research too. He liked research. He’d liked it ever since Mama showed him how to press play on his favorite All Might video when he was four.

He was much bigger now, and he’d only just discovered forums, and they had even more hero videos, if you knew where to look. And realistically speaking Izuku had more time than the average seven year old to discover more and more obscure heroes.

Dad seemed particularly pleased when Izuku asked about what an underground hero was during their lesson yesterday, which had then led to today’s assignment: find an underground hero to analyze. Unfortunately for Izuku, he’d discovered that underground heroes not only avoided having the details of their quirks published, but seemed to avoid cameras at all. But they were so cool! And Izuku was determined to find out more about them—Dad said if he could do “proper research” (Kurogiri said that meant really really good) then he might finally let Izuku start going to regular school again!

It made sense, too, because Izuku had grown exactly six and a half inches since he’d come to stay with Kurogiri and Dad. It made sense that he must be big enough to go to school, all that was left was that he had to show that his brain had gotten big enough!

He clicked on the next video, a fuzzy looking one that the comment says was from a security camera.

“S-Stay away from me!” A boy about Izuku’s age fell into the frame, scrambling backwards into the middle of the frame, holding a small backpack with cat ears in front of him like a shield as two pairs of legs followed him into view. Several bruises peppered his forearms and a scrape on his forehead bled sluggishly into lavender eyes.

“You sure this is the one, Yosano?” The first set of legs connected to a buff man in a tank top, spikes protruding from his arms like a dinosaur. Izuku started. He recognized that man. His name was Tanahashi-san. He had smiled at Izuku last week when he accidentally ran into him around a corner in the hall, big hands picking him off the ground and dusting him off with a gruff hair ruffle. He’d even answered some of Izuku’s questions about his quirk, Spikewall , before Kurogiri had ushered him back to the lower floors. He didn’t look so nice now, face set in a grim, unhappy line.

“That’s what my cousin’s brat said. Wouldn’t shut up about it.” A second man spoke, stepping fully into view. He had soft brown feathers instead of hair. His eyes didn’t look normal. Too round. A quirk that lets him see in the dark? Izuku didn’t know him, but his cold, calculating tone sent a shiver down Izuku’s spine. “Good thing for me. Boss’ll be happy.” Tanahashi-san took another step forward, advancing on the boy, who was shaking.

“What do you want from me?”

“Just for—” Tanahashi-san stood still, voice cutting off abruptly, face going slack. If anything, the boy on the ground looked even more terrified. Izuku leaned forward, heart racing. Was this the underground hero’s quirk? Where was the hero?

The feather man moved, inhumanely fast, grabbing the boy by the back of the neck. He screamed, pain and panic bleeding into his tone.

“Right one then. Got ourselves a baby villain, here.” Tanahashi-san shook his head as if coming out of a daze and grabbed the boy’s bag off the ground, fingers white-knuckled around the straps. His voice was low.

“We’ve made too much noise. Are you sure we need him?”

“L-let go of me!” The boy was crying, writhing in the feather man’s grasp. The feather man growled, struggling to hold onto the boy for a moment before slapping him across the face with a scowl. The boy froze, stunned. Izuku’s eyes were beginning to prickle. He’d watched a lot of hero fights. But never anything like this. Where was the hero?

“C’mon, help me with him. And don’t ans—” A black blur slamming into him cut off whatever he was about to say. Izuku gasped as the shadowy figure spun around, eyes glowing behind bright yellow goggles. The line of spikes rushing from Tanahashi-san’s hands abruptly stopped, and in the moment of hesitation the figure leaped into the air, two feet planting on Tanahashi’s chest, knocking him over as an elbow was driven into his forehead.

The feather man dropped the boy, who curled onto his side, covering his head as the hero, as he must be, swept the feather man’s feet out from under him, hair floating about his head as a huge white scarf wrapped around the villain, slamming him into the alley wall. It all happened so quickly that Izuku could barely comprehend what had happened before Tanahashi-san and the villain were on the ground, unconscious and bound. Was Tanahashi-san a villain? Something cold and scared settled in Izuku’s stomach.

The hero knelt down beside the boy and Izuku’s breath caught. It must have been the boy’s quirk that stopped Tanahashi-san and the other villain. Something that hurt people’s brains or stopped them. They called him a villain. And if Tanahashi-san was there for the boy then were they going to bring the purple boy here to the dark place? Was it because the purple boy was going to grow up to be a monster like Izuku? He waited with baited breath for the hero to bind the boy the same way he had with the two men.

The boy flinched as the hero’s hand came to rest gently on his shoulder, pausing for a moment before rolling him over. Izuku could see his lips moving, but it was too quiet for him to make out the words. The boy sat up slowly, staring at the hero in obvious awe despite his tears. Then the hero held out his arms, waiting until the boy nodded, before picking him up, gently holding him close. He walked slowly toward the flashing lights Izuku could just barely see reflected at the end of the alley. The video ended, flashing up comments about the hero: Eraserhead.

Izuku could only stare, confusion and excitement and fear all jostling for a place inside him. A hero who saved monsters? Wait…were the monsters around Izuku villains? Was…was he in a place for villains? Was that was he was? Izuku shook his head. But Eraserhead had saved the villain boy. And he wasn’t older than Izuku. Did that mean he could still be saved? Eraserhead must be an amazing hero to know how to save villains. He was so cool !

Izuku dragged over his notebook, hand tightening around his pencil. Eraserhead was the perfect hero for his re-search that Dad talked about. That meant that he could go to school and make friends! He hoped they would play with him. Maybe if he played hero with the other kids he could figure out how to avoid becoming a villain or a monster or whatever it was that was here. And it looked liked Eraserhead’s quirk could stop people from using their quirks and his hair floated while he was using that which was so cool ! That would impress Dad for sure.

His pencil met the paper. Then stopped, the cold feeling from before moving from his stomach into his spine, oily and thick. He didn’t…he didn’t want to share Eraserhead with the mon–Dad. Dad. With Dad. He liked to talk about quirks. He even sometimes liked talking with Dad about them. But…but he didn’t want to share Eraserhead. Dad liked to pick apart why heroes were bad. And he was smart so he always made sense and Izuku couldn’t disagree with him–he never had the right words, and Dad always told him about the bad things they’d done. There were a lot of bad heroes.

Izuku didn’t want to know how Eraserhead was bad. He wanted…he wanted to believe Eraserhead would save someone like him. Even if he was secretly bad, and Izuku didn’t think he was because the camera had been very high and hard to see, so he couldn’t have known that anyone was watching, then Izuku didn’t want to know. He would do his own re-search. And he’d find out if Eraserhead was as amazing as he seemed. Izuku still loved heroes. He just knew now that there were bad ones. But something inside him just knew Eraserhead was good. He pushed his notebook away, returning to scrolling down the page. He’d find another underground hero to talk to Dad about.

Takedown! Underground Hero Northstar takes on Iwata Gang!

Izuku clicked on the link, eyes widening with surprise as a young man in a dark navy jumpsuit ducked and weaved among seven different figures in a warehouse. Flashes of bright light, pinpoint small but blindingly bright glinted from the hero’s goggles, which looked like a cut jewel. Cool! If he was wearing such funny goggles then his quirk probably came from his eyes, and if the goggles looked like one of…of Mama’s pretty necklaces, then they was probably meant to re-flect light.

Izuku’s hands flew across the page, rapidly filling it with little notes as he saw how the hero could use his support goggles to make his light go lots of places at once, or how he always rolled and stayed low for just a few seconds before the lights flashed again. Maybe he was blinking. And those funny things on his waist he would throw when he jumped high, and they exploded into bright flashes too! He probably worked at night so that his quirk was more dangerous in fights. So cool!

“Midoriya Izuku, your father wants to see you.” Izuku jumped as Kurogiri materialized in his doorway, pausing in his analysis.

“But I’m not finished with s–school yet. D–dad doesn’t let me do other things unless I’m done with school.” Kurogiri regarded him silently for a moment, yellow eyes flickering slowly.

“This is part of your schooling. It’s best we go now. You know he insists on punctuality.” Izuku set down his pencil, hurriedly brushing off his jeans and obediently shuffling over to Kurogiri.

Kurogiri led him to the elevators, going up this time. Izuku didn’t go up very often. He had been allowed to go outside sometimes with Kurogiri to play in the park in the early mornings or late evenings, but he didn’t get to do that very much. Dad said it was dangerous for someone like Izuku. But Dad also said that it shouldn’t be dangerous for someone like Izuku. That Izuku was fine the way he was, but that everyone wouldn’t say that. Remembering Kacchan’s words the last time they’d met, Izuku was afraid Dad was right. He hadn’t gotten another chance to ask anyone else before…before Mama had…before she was gone. That’s probably why Dad was waiting for Izuku to be big enough before letting him go to normal school, so the other kids wouldn’t hurt him for being quirkless.

He was jolted out of his thoughts as Kurogiri stopped at Dad’s office and knocked twice before entering. The mon–Dad turned and smiled widely.

“Izuku, just in time. Come here, son.” Kurogiri gave Izuku a tiny push into the room before bowing slightly and shutting Izuku inside with his father. Izuku hurried over to his Dad’s side and squeaked in surprise when Dad picked him up, settling him in his lap, an arm around his shoulders. Dad never did this, and Izuku found a grin tugging at his lips as Dad spun the office chair around to face a television on the wall.

“W-what am I learning today, Da-Sensei?” Dad didn’t like to be called Dad when he was teaching. Only Sensei.

“I’ll tell you after. We can’t pause this one. Just watch, and we’ll talk about what you see after.” Izuku obediently turned to watch the screen, unable to stop the soft gasp of surprise as he recognized Tanahashi-san sitting at a table, silver handcuffs keeping his hands flat on the table, a plain, brown-haired man sitting across from him. Wait…Izuku recognized that hat too. That man was a detective. He’d said so himself, when he’d come to get Izuku from school the day that Mama…that Mama had to go.

“So you’re saying you have information for me? And you don’t want to wait for a lawyer?” The detective sounded suspicious.

Tanahashi-san’s eyes were darting all over, like he was looking for something, wrists twitching in the cuffs that held him down. “I’m not down to hurt kids. I’m…kids are too far.”

“You didn’t seem to have a problem with that three nights ago when you assaulted that kid on the way home from school.”

“I didn’t know he was that small I wouldn't have—look I know I’m a scum piece of sh*t, and I don’t care. But I draw the line at kids—look I didn’t…I didn’t know when I agreed to it. It’s…the jobs are normally more straightforward.” Izuku was confused. What was he supposed to be looking for?

“And who gives you your jobs? You have no known connections to any yakuza groups, your record isn’t clean but you—” Tanahashi-san’s fidgeting increased, chains clinking against the table. Izuku could see beads of sweat forming on his forehead. The detective tensed.

“Look I didn’t know there were kids—not the purple brat and not the–” Tanahashi-san abruptly cut off with a choked noise, muscles flexing. It looked like he was trying to reach for his throat. Dad’s arm tightened around Izuku’s shoulders, and out of the corner of his eye Izuku saw an orange flash of light cross the hand gripping his shoulder. The detective stood in alarm as black veins made their way across Tanahashi-san’s face, the whites of his eyes rapidly overrun with red. Red that ran out and over his face.

“I need a medic! Hey! Get someone in here now!” The detective was shouting, gesturing to someone beyond the door. Izuku stared with open-mouthed horror, tears slowly beginning to drip down his face. He wanted to look away, but he couldn’t. Not with Dad’s arm around his shoulders, stopping him from turning away. Tanahashi-san collapsed on the table with a bang. Izuku flinched. His red eyes stared vacantly at the camera. Dad pressed a button on his keyboard and the t.v. screen went dark.

“Now, what did you learn, Izuku?” He was smiling patiently in the way that he did when he was waiting for Izuku to connect the ideas in front of him. Izuku opened his mouth, unable to get out any words for a moment other than a choked sob.

“Wh-what?” Dad was still smiling.

“What did you see, son? Go ahead and tell me. You’ve met Tanahashi-san before. He was part of the family, right?” Izuku bravely hiccuped a nod, trying desperately to calm his racing heart and mind.

“B-but he was, h-he was all t-tied up.” Dad nodded.

“Yes, he was in the police station. Because he did a bad thing. What do you think it was, Izuku?” Izuku pressed his trembling lips together for a moment. He had to answer. Dad was Sensei right now. And Sensei…Sensei was a monster. Was a monster the same thing as a villain?

“D-did he…he hurt someone?” Dad nodded again, giving Izuku an approving pat on the head.

“Yes, but what’s worse, is that he hurt someone, and then he was going to hurt his family here. He thought he could get out of the other bad thing by hurting everyone here, then hide so we wouldn’t know he was going to hurt us. But because he was family we went looking for him anyway. But he didn’t want to come back, so we had to make sure he wouldn't hurt the rest of the family that stayed here. Family is important, isn’t it Izuku?”

“Y-yes, Sensei.” Izuku couldn’t look away from Dad. Tanahashi-san had seemed nice…but he hadn’t looked nice when he hurt the purple boy. But then…then again did that mean that he should have been hurt? He sounded like he..like he didn’t want to be bad anymore. Did being here, working for Izuku’s Dad, make him bad? But…but then…Dad said he was going to hurt the people here in the dark place. The family here. Izuku didn’t think the people here were a family, but it was so hard to remember now. Why would Tanahashi-san try to hurt everyone here? And how…the orange flash on Dad’s hand had happened right when the black lines started on Tanahashi-san’s face. Dad wanted him to come watch because Dad knew a bad thing was going to happen to Tanahashi-san. Unless…unless Dad was the bad thing that happened to Tanahashi-san. Izuku felt cold and prickly all over, and for a moment it felt like he might fall if not for the mon–Dad’s arm around him. That had to be it. Somehow, Dad had hurt…had killed Tanahashi-san. And he wanted Izuku to see it.

“And since he decided to leave the family and hurt us, he wasn’t family anymore, he was an enemy. And we have to protect our family from enemies, don’t we Izuku? That’s what a hero would do, right?” Izuku swallowed and nodded, tears beginning to leak out of his eyes for a whole new reason. There were heroes who saved monsters or even villains…like Izuku was bound to be. But even if Eraserhead saved Izuku, there was nowhere he could go that Dad…no….the monster…no…the villain. There was nowhere he could go that the villain would not find him. Izuku understood, now. He was a good student. He didn’t live with a monster. His father was a villain. He knew why All Might left him now.

“Let’s go get dinner. You can tell me about your homework, and we can start looking at schools. I think you’re ready.” Dad pulled him into a hug, and Izuku hated how he clung tightly to him, unable to stop the sobs that worked their way out of him, hating and craving the touch all at the same time. “It’s okay, son. I know that was hard, but you did well. I’m proud of you.”

_______________________

“What is it, Tsukauchi?”

“Eraserhead, I need you down at the coroner’s office.”

“The morgue? Why? What happened?”

“They think…God…Aizawa they think they’ve found Northstar. They need you to ID the body. You’re the only one who worked closely enough with him to do it.”

“sh*t. I’ll be there in twenty.”

“Aizawa…it’s bad. You…you need to be prepared. I’m sorry.”

“Understood.”

Chapter 5: Chapter 5

Chapter Text

Tenko scratched his neck absently, trying to concentrate on keeping his pancakes away from Nyana’s paws that kept creeping over the side of the kitchen table. He could say that she was a cat burglar, but he was pretty sure that she didn’t care that he knew that she was attempting to steal his breakfast. A glance over the side of the table confirmed this as he met the unrepentant eyes of his cat staring haughtily back. He stopped scratching his neck to tickle her ears as she flopped onto her back, abandoning burglarly in favor of reminding him of how adorable she was in to see if that would win her scraps instead.

He looked up.

Toshinori was at the stove, humming quietly to himself as he finished his own fifteen egg omelet and nine pancake stack.

Tenko snuck Nyana a piece of his bacon, snorting as the cat immediately abandoned her show and shot out of the kitchen with her prize, leaving Tenko with no distractions. His hand crept slowly back toward his neck until he forced it back down to his fork. He hated that particular nervous habit–a hold over from before Toshinori had rescued him. He hated that reminder. It made him angry that even after all of this time, he could still sometimes hear Sensei’s faintly amused voice in the back of his mind even as his memories of those years faded.

It was always amused. Always smug and superior and Tenko had come to despise the memory of that voice. Even when he’d angered Sensei, he had always sounded amused, as if Tenko was too stupid to keep his mouth shut and would soon learn better. He hated the fact that he would have done anything to get Sensei’s approval. Everything is for you, Tomura.

Tenko’s fork disintegrated in his hand.

“I take it something’s bothering you, Tenko?” Tenko flinched, jerking his eyes up from his now dust covered eggs to see Toshinori watching him from the other side of the table, his eyes glinting with concern. He felt his face flash hot. He’d not had an accident like that in ages and it infuriated him.

“I’m fine, Toshinori, I don’t need All-Mother Hen to come to the rescue.” As soon as the words were out Tenko regretted them, and it made him even angrier. He hated this. He hated it. Tenko took a deep breath, slowly letting it out through his nostrils. Take a breath. Take a step back and center yourself. He didn’t want to be angry and that alone made him angrier. “I’m…I’m sorry, Toshi. I didn’t–it’s not you. I shouldn’t—I’m sorry.”

Tenko miserably tugged his gloves back on, not trusting himself to keep from accidentally disintegrating the table the way the morning was going. He glanced up to find Toshinori watching him silently for another moment before he leaned back in his seat, a sudden flash of understanding passing over his face.

“You know, I was about your age when I had my first crush too. This is a natural part of growing up, Tenko. You’ll start to notice girls–”

“To–Toshinori no!” Tenko’s face was on fire. He’d never really stopped long enough to think of anyone like that. “It–it’s not like that it’s…it’s Touya.”

Toshinori chuckled. “Boys are okay too, Tenko, and if you’ve started to notice young Tou–”

“No! No it’s that…he hasn’t come to school in two weeks. He won’t answer the phone. Fuyumi hasn’t been at school either and nobody will tell me what’s going on. If I did something to make him mad then I think he would tell me. And Endeavor doesn’t like me, but I don’t think he would tell Touya not to talk to me. And he would have been at school, then, but he hasn’t been. None of them have and it’s like they’ve just disappeared.”

The amusem*nt faded from Toshinori’s face. He leaned forward, lacing his fingers together. “That does sound like a problem. Would you like me to call Todoroki-san or Endeavor and ask?”

Tenko shook his head vehemently. While he hadn’t been outright hostile, Endeavor definitely didn’t like Tenko the one time he had been allowed over to Touya’s house, and besides, if Touya was mad at him then he would just seem like a baby for getting his D–Toshinori to solve his problems.

“No, I want him to tell me where he’s been. I just…I don’t know what to do.” The admission came out smaller than he wanted, cracking a little under the helpless anger and frustration that had been building with every day of silence from Touya and Fuyumi. Tenko hated being angry. But he hated feeling helpless even more.

Toshinori was silent for a few long moments. “Tomorrow is Monday. How about if your friends aren’t back in school by then, we can go together to Endeavor’s house and see if everything is okay. I’ll stay in the car if you like and let you handle it, or I can come with you and we can go as a team. Either is okay with me.”

Tenko scratched his wrists, twisting his fingers around one and then the other, trying to keep his hands away from his neck. “I–you can come, but I want you to stay in the car unless I need you so Touya doesn’t think I’m being a baby.”

Toshinori nodded easily. “Then I will pick you up after school tomorrow. But as for today, what will help you feel better? Do you want to get ice cream? Or we can go to the beach, or out to the mall and see if we can find that new game you mentioned at dinner last night.”

“The–the park. I think I want…need to move. Can I go to the park? And then when I’m done can we go to the mall?” Toshinori nodded, standing and picking up Tenko’s plate.

“That sounds like a deal. Why don’t you go now–you’ve been picking at these pancakes for twenty minutes. I won’t be upset if you don’t finish them.” Tenko nodded again, not looking at Toshinori, frustration and shame still swirling around inside his chest in a hot, sickly vortex.

“I’m sorry about the fork, I didn’t–”

“I’m proud of you, Tenko.” Toshinori’s hand settled on top of Tenko’s head, gently ruffling his hair before dropping around his shoulders and giving him a brief squeeze. “I can see how hard you’re trying, and I’m proud of you. You don’t need to explain, I know it was an accident. Now go outside and clear your head, and when you come back we’ll go out together.”

Tenko nodded again, feeling a little less overwhelmed as he stood, dodging Nyana as she slipped back into the kitchen to wind about Toshinori’s ankles, once again begging for Tenko’s pancakes. He couldn’t quite resist the slight tug of a smile on his lips when he heard Toshinori scolding the cat.

“Nyana assault with a deadly weapon is a crime, and that tail counts!”

Whatever Nyana’s response may have been was cut off as Tenko finally managed to get his shoes on and slip out into the bright morning, heading toward the park he, Touya and Fuyumi liked to meet at after school and on the weekends.

A small part of him hoped that he would find them like usual–Fuyumi on the swings and Touya sitting on top of the jungle gym. Even if it meant they were ignoring him, at least that was a problem he could solve–not this strange silence that he could neither resolve nor ignore.

After a twenty minute walk, he finally reached the top of the hill that overlooked the entrance to the park, briefly closing his eyes and enjoying the crisp fall air, filled with the scents of pine, dried leaves, and…and smoke? He opened his eyes.

From his vantage point Tenko could see the slides, swing sets and jungle gym near the front of the park and behind–his breath caught in his throat. A horrible, gaping burn scar stretched into the hills surrounding the park, mottled twigs of grey and charcoal black where massive trees once were. He could see the bright orange fences blocking the area off from the rest of the empty park.

He stood frozen for a second before sprinting down the hill, the smell of smoke growing thicker as he reached the bottom, making his eyes water as he approached the orange fence, leaping over a sagging portion. Up close the damage was even worse. It was almost cool enough that you had to wear a jacket, but now Tenko felt the warmth rising from the ground around him despite the lack of fire.

What happened here?

Tenko pressed forward, slower now, feet guiding him up the hill of ruined trees, a growing sense of panic he could not understand filling his chest, choking him along with the ash that rose in clouds around his shoes. His breathing was the only noise–even the breeze had died, leaving Tenko in an eerie silence as he wound his way around charcoal trunks and tripped over hidden stumps where all but the roots had burned in whatever fire had come through the park.

He hadn’t heard of any fires. Not that he paid much attention to the news to begin with…but something like this Tenko should have heard about.

After a few more minutes of wandering, Tenko realized with some surprise that he was close to the clearing with the big tree he and Touya climbed in to hide from Fuyumi during hide and seek. It should be…it should be right up ahead. He took another few steps forward, now feeling the heat of the ground through the soles of his shoes. Tenko didn’t claim to be an expert in fires…but this didn’t feel normal. Was it always this hot after a fire? What did this?

Then what’s your plan?

The panic steadily building in him was climbing up his throat as he finally spotted the blackened skeleton of the massive oak tree, miraculously still standing. A single branch jutted out in stark contrast to the barren trunks surrounding it like an arm, cracked and scorched from the heat. For the first time in a long time, Tenko was truly afraid as he stared at the tree before him, or more accurately at the figure standing below it.

Fuyumi. Standing with her back to him.

A fire had burned half the park down.

An unnaturally hot fire. He was shaking now, feeling weak and unsteady, chest heaving like he had run all the way from the swings.

It couldn’t be.

He stumbled to a halt twenty feet away from Fuyumi, who didn’t turn from where she was staring out over the ruined forest. With ash white hair, red flecks glowing like embers in the sunlight, a black dress and white socks stained with smears of ash, she looked like one of the burnt out trunks surrounding them, and just as frail.

So frail, that he feared the sudden wind that whipped through the clearing, tossing ash into the air like snowflakes would blow her away too as a deafening crack split the air and the last remaining branch of Tenko and Touya’s oak tree plummeted.

Fuyumi was just looking up at the branch as if waking up from a dream.

His fear crystalized.

“Fuyumi! Move!” He sprinted toward her, ripping off one of his gloves, watching in horror as the heavy branch fell. Please not her too.

He collided with her a split second later, twisting upward and flinging a hand out in the hopes of doing something, anything to keep her from disappearing too.

It’s a secret.

His fingers met the rough bark of the thick branch and Tenko shut his eyes, bracing for pain as he channeled his quirk with all his might into it.

They tumbled to the hot ground, Tenko curled over Fuyumi as a small snowstorm of ash, dust and sticks rained down on them, the branch crumbling around them. She was starting up at him with wide red rimmed eyes, tears already gathering in the corners as they stayed there panting for a moment.

He looked up to see them surrounded by a halo of dust and ash, the branch nowhere to be seen. Slowly, Tenko crawled away from Fuyumi, careful not to touch her with his bare hand, and spying his glove a few feet away, he clumsily shoved it back on with trembling hands.

Fuyumi slowly pushed herself up, her face now smeared with ash, mixing with the tears beginning to drip down her face. There was a cut on her left cheek where one a piece of branch had hit her. He felt a rush of guilt alongside his panic. “Ten–Tenko.”

Tenko crawled back over, not fully trusting his legs. “Fuyumi! What….are–are you okay? Your cheek I–what are you doing here alone? What happened? Where have you been? Where’s Touya?”

Tears were falling freely down Fuyumi’s face as she stared at him, opening and closing her mouth a couple times before closing it and shaking her head. She still seemed far away somehow, even though she was right there in front of him. Tenko was startled to hear his own voice crack.

“Fuyumi…where’s Touya?”

Fuyumi’s shoulders were shaking between shuddering breaths. Her eyes were glassy and doll like. “He…th–there, there was…he’s…he’s gone.”

The words hung in between them in the silent remains of the wood, horrible and bare, finally giving shape to the unknown terror that had stalked Tenko since he had first entered the charred wood.

He felt a flash of white hot anger that was immediately doused by burning cold grief, because surrounded by the ashes of the forest he could not deny the awful truth.

Then what’s your plan?

It’s a secret.

And Tenko knew.

A split second later Fuyumi slammed into him, her arms wrapping around his middle like a vice as she dissolved into sobs, her odd dreamlike state shattering like glass. After a stunned second Tenko wrapped his arms around her in return, watching his own tears begin to drip onto her hair, mingling with the ashes there.

____________________________

There was somebody in Tomura’s room. The door was shut like it always was, but light was leaking out from under it into the dark hallway. Izuku knew he hadn’t left it on because he never went in Tomura’s room. At first it had been because Tomura always got mad when Izuku touched his things without asking, and a small part of him had hoped he would wake up to see the bluish light of one of Tomura’s video games coming out from under the door. But now Izuku didn’t go inside because tears started welling up in his eyes the second he passed through the door.

This light was different–it was yellow and dim, almost orange against the shadows of the hallway as Izuku crept closer, a tiny bud of hope growing inside of him in spite of himself. It was good that All Might had rescued Tomura. Wherever he was, Izuku hoped that he was less grumpy and someone was giving him all the hugs Izuku had wanted to give him when he woke up from a bad dream. But even so…if Tomura was back that meant Izuku wouldn’t be alone anymore, and maybe Tomura could explain why Dad was a villain and maybe they could…maybe Tomura had come to take him away to where the heroes were too.

Heart speeding up with excitement Izuku finally gathered the courage to place a trembling hand on the door handle, hoping against hope that he’d hear a grumpy shout of `what are you doing in my room again, brat?` And then maybe they could finally leave the dark place together (Compound. He’d looked the word up in the dictionary yesterday) and Izuku wouldn’t have to be scared. Or even if they couldn’t leave, at least Izuku wouldn’t be alone anymore. Maybe they could even be heroes together some day. But if Tomura was here, then Da-Sensei, would make them both be villains. Izuku knew that, but he still desperately wanted Tomura back.

Did that make Izuku a villain for wanting Tomura to come back even though it was good that he was far away from Sensei?

Izuku felt like a villain when Sensei made him try and take the quirks of the people at the bottom of the compound every day. He wished he could have a quirk. Something that put people to sleep so they at least wouldn’t be scared anymore. He was just as glad that he didn’t have a quirk so he didn’t have to hurt them. Izuku didn’t want to hurt them, and taking their quirks hurt. If getting a quirk meant hurting them than he didn’t want one. And if he got Sensei’s quirk then he would have to because Sensei would make him. Because Sensei was Dad, Dad was a villain, and Izuku was his son.

But maybe Tomura could help him not be a villain because Eraserhead helped kids who were going to be villains (like the purple haired boy), and Izuku wanted to be good. He wanted to be good so bad. He wanted to be a hero.

He opened the door.

As dim as it was, the light momentarily blinded him before his eyes adjusted to the room, ears taking in the oddly hushed, quiet beeping coming from the bed–steady and rhythmic, not at all like the games Tomura liked to play on his gameboy.

There was someone on Tomura’s bed, lying still and unmoving.

Izuku crept closer, carefully stepping over the tangles of wires connecting to a whole host of machines lined up on the wall behind the bed. The person on the bed was covered in bandages–even their face and eyes and head were swathed in layer after layer of bandages. Izuku stared. It was small. Too small to be an adult. A kid like him? Had Tomura gotten hurt? But this person was bigger than Tomura, but then again it had been three years, he didn’t know how big Tomura had gotten. Had Sensei hurt him when he’d come back? A trickle of panic went down his spine–that would make a lot of sense. Sensei would be angry that he hadn’t come back for so long unless he was being kept away from them.

He had to know if it was Tomura. He reached out a hand, trying to find the edge of the bandages, hoping and fearing that it would be his brother.

“I see you’ve introduced yourself before I got the chance.” Izuku flinched, whipping around to see Dad leaning in the doorway.

“Da–Sensei! I…umm…I thought…is…is Tomura back?” Dad walked over to Izuku, patting his head and smiling.

“We aren’t in class right now, there’s no need to call me Sensei, son.”

Izuku looked away. “Y–yes, Dad.”

“Very good.” The hand left his head and Izuku’s heart slowed down a little. “Now, I had hoped to introduce you, but I should have known you would have found him yourself first.”

Introduce. That had to mean it wasn’t Tomura. Tears began to gather in his eyes, but Izuku wasn’t sure if if was from relief or disappointment. He thought maybe it was both.

“Who is this?”

“Your new brother.” Izuku gaped at Dad in shock. A new brother? Izuku didn’t want a new brother he wanted Tomura back. But he couldn’t say that to Sensei.

“O–oh. What’s his name? Why is he hurt?” Dad trailed a gentle hand over the boy’s bandaged head.

“His name is Touya. But when he wakes up we can help him choose a new one. He won’t like the old one anymore. He’s hurt because a hero did not save him when he needed it the most. So we did what they would not, and now he’s come here to be your new brother.” Izuku looked between Dad and the new brother (Touya).

“O–oh. How long will he be asleep?”

“As long as he needs to heal, so it might be a long time. But when he wakes, I need you to be a good brother and help him feel comfortable.”

Izuku stared at the bandaged boy, despair and relief battling inside him. He wanted Tomura back, not a new brother. But this meant that maybe he wouldn’t be so horribly alone anymore. Sensei said that he’d saved Touya, but Sensei was a villain, a bad one. Did he hurt the other boy’s family to bring him here? Would he be scared when he woke up, or had heroes really hurt him so badly that he would hate them like Tomura had?

Dad’s arm wrapped around Izuku’s shoulders, pulling him close in a hug. The tears Izuku had been bravely holding in spilled over.

“Can I count on you son?”

________________________________

“Hizashi?” Hizashi looked up from where he was whipping up some scrumptious lunch before taking Tenko out to a local cat cafe that had just opened. All Might had asked him to take the kid out while he worked a long day and didn’t want him to be alone. It wasn’t like they thought the kid was going to do anything rash, but everyone was worried about him. He’d been listless and distant, even to Hizashi and Shota. Yagi had also confided that he hadn’t slept for more than a few hours at a time most of the week, waking from night terrors nearly every night. It had made Yagi feel better about going back to work after a week to know that Hizashi would be keeping his son company.

“Yeah kiddo?” Tenko was lying on the couch, aimlessly trailing a finger over the side for Nimbus to swat at from below. It would have been adorable if Hizashi didn’t immediately clock the dark circles around the kid’s eyes, and the way he barely flinched when Nimbus’s teeth finally met his pointer finger. Touya Todoroki’s death was hitting Tenko hard, not that he could blame the kid. But it killed Hizashi to see him this way, and he wished more than anything he could help somehow.

“Can you teach me more about my quirk?” Hizashi set down a half-formed rice ball to look more closely at the boy.

“You know I’m always happy to help. What about it do you want to know?” Tenko didn’t look up at him, brow furrowed in thought, seemingly deeply focused on extricating the tip of one of his gloves from Nimbus’s mouth. Hizashi would have been concerned by the amount of biting, but he’d resigned himself to accept that it was how the white fluffy cat showed her affection. Shota thought it was cute when she was a kitten, and she’d been incorrigible ever since.

“I want to make it stronger.” Hizashi blinked. Tenko had warmed to their quirk counseling lessons, even enjoying them, but he had never shown any indication of wanting to strengthen his already powerful quirk beyond its current capabilities. Last Hizashi checked, he seemed to have reached an unseasy truce with his quirk–not actively hating it, but also not having any desire to explore its specifics.

“Any particular reason you feel that way, listener?” Tenko was quiet for another long moment, gaze fixed on his hands intently, like he could see the skin of the two fingers hidden by the soft black fabric of his archery gloves.

“I think…maybe I should know more about it.” He looked up at Hizashi, hastily amending, “It’s not like I…like I like it or anything, but I think I should know what I can do. That way if I ever did need to…to use it I would know how. If–if someone ever needed me to.”

Hizashi felt like there was more there, that something had happened in the past week to change Tenko’s mind about developing his quirk, but judging from Tenko’s uncharacteristic hesitance with his words, it was something he didn’t want Hizashi to pry into. At the same time, he was also filled with a warm pride that Tenko had gained the courage to even consider taking the next step in learning about his quirk, something Hizashi had privately begun to think may not ever come.

“Then of course I’ll help you, kiddo. Now why don’t you help me finish this lunch so we can get over to the cafe ya dig?” He was rewarded with Tenko cracking the tiniest smile and following him into the kitchen, not even protesting when Hizashi affectionately ruffled his hair. Man he was getting tall. Really if he stopped and considered it Hizashi was floored by how quickly his little adopted nephew was growing up. But then again maybe he was getting ahead of himself. They still had a long way to go before Tenko was grown. Besides, Hizashi had always been one to enjoy the moment.

He was so caught up in his musings that Hizashi almost missed the quiet words that came next.

“Thanks, Hizashi.”

“You got it kiddo.”

Chapter 6: Chapter 6

Chapter Text

“Psst…Touya…Kurogiri said you might be able to hear me even though you’re asleep, so I wanted to tell you that I’m going to be gone for a little bit today. But I promise I’ll come back…it’s just school. Dad said he finally found a place for me and I’m so excited! Okay…bye!”

“You’re up early.” Tenko scowled at Toshinori when he appeared behind him in the mirror just in time to see Tenko lose his battle with his necktie. They both knew he was not, by any stretch of the imagination, a morning person.

“Yeah. But it won’t matter if I can’t get this stupid thing to work!” Toshinori chuckled quietly before taking pity on Tenko and fixing his sad knot of a tie.

“You don’t have to leave for another hour. Why are you ready this early? Did you have trouble sleeping last night?”

Tenko hesitated a moment.

“I promised I’d walk Fuyumi to school because it’s the first day and she’s never…she doesn’t want to walk alone.” He looked away from Toshinori’s understanding gaze, blinking hard. Truth be told, he’d been dreading the first day of middle school because he knew that Touya’s seat would be filled by a new student, but that wouldn’t stop him from glancing that way when something funny happened.

But as hard as it was for him…he couldn’t imagine how difficult it was today for Fuyumi. He didn’t have to, because he saw the same sadness in her eyes that was reflected in his own whenever he remembered his own brother. He still hadn’t told his friends about Izuku. That would open too many doors to questions about his past that Tenko couldn’t answer.

And Izuku…Izuku was one of his only childhood memories that wasn’t tainted by Sensei. Until Sensei had become the very reason those memories could never continue. Tenko didn’t care that Sensei was dead when it happened–it was his fault. Him and every single person who chose to work for him. Tenko knew what it was to have a brother there one second and gone the next with nothing anyone could do about it.

So here he was, battling his tie at six in the morning so he could walk to the Todoroki house then walk to school. Toshinori pulled him into a tight hug, muffling any sound of protest from Tenko, though to be honest these days they both knew he did it for show.

“You’re a good friend, Tenko.”

“Hey…hey Touya. I brought you a sticker from school. It’s an elephant. They gave them to all the kids during science. It’s such a big school and you’ll never believe it but some of my friends are there too…but they don’t believe me when I tell them I live with Dad now because Mama’s gone.”

“...”

“Kacchan said I was probably living in a…an orphanage because nobody would want a quirkless baby. I couldn’t tell them that Dad’s still waiting to see if I have one because he said not to talk about his work.”

Tenko stared in awe at the destruction surrounding him, extending in a nearly perfect circle about ten feet wide and a foot deep, leaving him crouched on a small island of untouched cement in the middle, where he had traced a circle around himself on the training room floor.

“That…was impressive listener!” Hizashi clapped a couple times, leaning over the edge of the pit Tenko had just created and peering in before hopping down and meandering over to him. “It was a lot faster than last time. Bigger too.”

“Y–yeah.” Tenko fished his gloves out of his pocket, slipping them back on and hopping down to join Hizashi in the dusty crater. He wasn’t sure if the beating of his heart was from excitement or fear. He had just done this. Hizashi was pushing dust around with his boot, staring intently down before letting out a pleased hum and diving down to whip up an All Might plushie. Tenko’s breath caught in his throat.

“Well would you look at that!” Hizashi was grinning from ear to ear. “Looks like All Might survived, which means we were right. Your quirk affects the base of what was touched to a certain area, but not necessarily what’s on those surfaces. Now, we don’t know how exactly that applies to what makes an object an object, ya know, like something made out of multiple things, but it does give us a good base to start fine tuning your control!”

Tenko trailed after Hizashi, accepting the hero’s offered hand as they clambered out of the crater, turning back around to stare at his handiwork. It was a surprise to him too that he was excited to see Decay developing–it didn’t feel so much like it was eating him from the inside out, just waiting to lash out at the nearest target, anymore. Toshinori was right that Tenko was more than his quirk…but Tenko couldn’t help but think that maybe his quirk wasn’t all bad. Maybe it…it just was. A part of him that was. Just Tenko.

“H–hey, Touya. C–can I stay a little bit? I know it’s Saturday, but Dad’s Sensei right now and he’s mad. I’m not t–trying to be d–difficult, but they look so scared and he d–doesn’t put them to sleep anymore when he tells me to take their quirks and I don’t know what to do. He–he says they wouldn’t hurt so m-much if I would just try harder but–but I can’t.”

“You’re grumpy today.” Tenko held his backpack straps tighter and hurried toward the school gates, purposefully ignoring the light words behind him.

“Don’t worry about it.” He didn’t want to talk today. He just didn’t have it in him, and at this rate he was going to snap and say something he regretted to someone who really didn’t deserve it, so the best thing for everyone was for him to go home and watch movies with Toshinori and not talk.

A hand grabbed his wrist as Fuyumi finally managed to catch up with him. “Hey! Don’t ignore me, what’s going on?”

Tenko tugged his hand out of her grasp and kept walking. “I don’t want to talk about it Fuyumi…please, I don’t want to bite your head off.”

Instead of walking away and leaving Tenko to wallow under his own personal storm cloud, Fuyumi fell into step with him. Well fine her station was before Tenko’s anyway so she could go that way too.

They passed Fuyumi’s station.

He glanced at her out of the corner of his eye and found her watching him. She smiled, a rare cheeky glint in her eyes. “What? We aren’t talking.”

They passed the park.

Tomura, if we’re going to steal a penguin from the zoo, can we go to the park on the way home too?

He turned sharply, ignoring Fuyumi’s squeak of surprise as she pivoted to follow him into the park and to the swing set. He heard the creak of metal chains as she sat down next to him, and for a long time they sat in silence.

When Tenko turned ten, Toshinori had taken him to the zoo. They had stared at the bugs together, and Toshinori liked the seals and Tenko liked the butterfly house. He’d almost told Toshinori that he and Izuku had made a plan to steal a penguin from a zoo, but he’d stopped himself. That was between him and his baby brother.

For Izuku’s tenth birthday, Tenko couldn’t even visit his grave. His soft, excited, kind baby brother had died alone and he would never turn ten and get to go to the zoo. The only person left to remember that it was Izuku’s birthday at all was Tenko.

He stood abruptly, walking around behind Fuyumi’s swing and grabbing the chains to give it a small swing. She glanced up at him and smiled again, obligingly lifting her feet and letting Tenko push. It was a ritual they’d had since the day they’d met, and Tenko found the brief flash of normalcy comforting in his otherwise miserable day.

“You know Tenko, I won’t make you talk about what’s wrong, but if you wanted to you can. I won’t mind even if you’re angry–you’re always here for me. It would make me happy to be here for you for a change.”

Tenko gave the swing another push, sending her a little higher and swallowing. If there was anyone who could understand…

“I–you know I’m adopted.” She didn’t look back at him.

“Mhmm. Toshinori-san adopted you when you were eight, right?”

Tenko nodded before he remembered that she couldn’t see him without turning around. “Yeah. Well, umm, I was kidnapped by a villain before that. He…well…he didn’t like heroes much, and neither did I and he wanted me to hate them. They think, well, they think he wanted to make me into some kind of weapon with…with what my quirk can do.”

Fuyumi was silent as Tenko’s gloved hands met her back and he pushed again, but she wasn’t staring or recoiling in horror yet, so Tenko kept talking.

“I lived with him for almost three years, and right before I was…I was rescued, Sensei–the villain I mean–somehow got another kid and said that he was going to be my new brother. I think he might have been the villain’s son, but I don’t know. Sensei–the villain–he liked to be a puppet master with people’s heads so it was hard to know what was real and what was another one of his lies.”

Tomura, this is Izuku. He’s come to stay with us now, and I expect you two to get along. No broken or missing body parts. Do you understand me?

“He was four, and he didn’t even have a quirk yet and he had green hair, and loved to play pretend and he annoyed me so much back then…but I liked him. He didn’t have anyone else and neither did I. I…he was a good kid, Fuyumi. He was…he was my baby brother. He was just a little kid in a villain’s hideout who wanted to be a hero someday and they murdered him after I was rescued.”

There was the scrape of dirt as Fuyumi put her feet down, turning to face Tenko as he angrily wiped away a stray tear. It wasn’t that he was embarrassed to cry in front of Fuyumi, but that Izuku should be ten today and he was dead instead. It filled him with helpless anger.

“Tenko…”

“He should be ten today. He should…he should be having a birthday party. But he’s never going to be ten and that makes me so angry because it isn’t fair! He doesn’t even have a grave.”

Fuyumi’s eyes were a little glassy as she stood, holding out her arms with a questioning stare. Tenko took a step forward and wrapped his arms around her, hiding his face in her shoulder and taking a deep, shuddering breath. Ten. Izuku should be ten. And Tenko wished he could take his little brother to the zoo.

“If he didn’t get a birthday party…do you want to get him a cake?”

Tenko pulled away, staring at her in confusion. “What?”

Fuyumi smiled sadly. “Well, if it’s his birthday, why don’t we give him a little party and…and you can tell me more about him, if you want.” Her fingers twitched nervously. “I…if it’s what you need, but that’s umm…that’s what I do for Touya.”

Do you want to help me blow out the candles, Tomura! It’s so fun, you should try it!

It’s your birthday, brat.

Tenko huffed out a watery laugh, the sudden memory warm in his chest.

“Y–yeah. I’d like that.”

“Touya. Can I tell you a secret? I’m glad I’m quirkless. Maybe he’ll leave me alone now. I hope you’re quirkless too, when you wake up.”

“Everyone keeps asking me what I want to be.” Aizawa grunted, not looking up from where he was grading papers in the empty teacher’s room.

“You’re about to go into high school, that’s usually what people ask around this time.”

Tenko scowled, returning to aimlessly spinning in the chair at Hizashi’s empty desk. “Well it’s annoying. I don’t know how to answer them.” Tenko swore he saw the barest hint of a smile cross Aizawa’s face, quickly hidden by the capture weapon around his neck. Jerk.

“So what do you want to be?” Tenko glowered at him.

“I don’t know. It’s not a normal question in villain hideouts and Toshinori always tells me I can follow wherever my heart leads so I haven’t had my whole childhood to figure it out.” Aizawa snorted. Despite his annoyance, Tenko appreciated that Aizawa never flinched away from reminders of Tenko’s past, and returned Tenko’s snark in equal measure.

“That sounds like All Might.”

Tenko rolled his eyes. “You have no idea. I think he’s trying not to pressure me into anything. But I can’t even think of something that sounds interesting!” He flopped back in the office chair in defeat.

He heard Aizawa sigh. “You know kid, a lot of these hellions I teach come in here only ever having thought of what they want to be. They think of all the meaningless things surrounding being a hero that the public sees, and think that’s what they want to be. They’ve not taken half a second to consider who they want to be before diving straight into the what. So really the question you should be asking yourself isn’t what you want to be so much as what kind of person you want to become.”

Tenko blinked up at the ceiling, taking the words in. What kind of person did he want to be? How was that supposed to help him choose what to do? He’d never really considered who he wanted to be and nobody had asked him. Even kids at school only asked what he wanted to be.

Then again…now that he thought of it, he could only consider that question at all because of people like Toshinori, Hizashi, Aizawa and even Detective Tsukauchi. He wanted to give someone the same chance he never imagined he’d get. He wanted…he wanted to be someone that helped people.

Tomura wanna play heroes?

Heroes do a lot more than fight, Tenko. Your grandmother taught me that fighting is the least important part of their jobs–the most important thing they do is save people’s hearts and give them hope when they’ve lost it.

There are a lot of different kinds of heroes, you know.

Could he…could he really…

He looked back at Aizawa to find the hero staring at him.

“I think that’s the most words I’ve heard you use all month. You should be careful or you’ll use them all up.”

Aizawa stuck out a foot to push Tenko’s chair, rolling him several feet away. “Brat.”

“So who do you want to be?”

“Hey, Touya. Do you—”

“Who are you?”

“Y–you’re awake! Wow! Are you okay? You’ve been asleep for three years.”

“Three…years? I–I need to go!”

“Hey where’re you going–come back! Touya!”

_____________________________

“Who’s that? I didn’t see him at the entrance exam.”

“He’s a recommendation student…his name’s Shimura Tenko, I think. I wonder what he can do if he got in on recommendation!”

“Izuku, your father is asking for you in the laboratory.” Izuku whipped around from where he’d been scrolling underground hero forums, looking for someone to analyze for Dad’s latest project. It was one of the few things that he somewhat enjoyed talking about with his father–analyzing quirks or fighting styles, and just for a moment pretending that they were having a normal family dinner. Kurogiri was standing in the doorway.

“Wh–what? Why?” His voice came out as a squeak. Sensei had not made him return to the laboratory since the day he had finally deemed Izuku quirkless. He’d never forgotten that day. The weight of Sensei’s hand over his, trapping it in place over the racing heart of the young man on the table, the snap and tingle of the black lightning encasing them, the moment the man’s heart had stopped.

It’s nothing to be ashamed of, son. We’ll work on other areas–besides, if we do decide you need a quirk one day, I can just give you one. Did you like this one?

“He says he has important things to discuss. I did not ask more questions.” A rippling portal opened next to Izuku’s desk and he flinched.

After a moment’s hesitation he stood, trying to control the trembling of his fingers. It would only make his father angry if he delayed more. He’d learned that the hard way, so squaring his shoulders Izuku stepped through Kurogiri’s portal and into the sterile white light of the lab.

“I hear you’ve been having some trouble in school, Izuku.” Huh? Sensei stood before him, hands casually clasped behind his back. There was nobody else in the room, just the steel gurney off to the side, mercifully empty for once.

Despite his relief, the back of his neck tingled, set on edge by this uncharted territory. He’d been careful not to mention what happened at school to Dad…then again Izuku supposed he shouldn’t be shocked that his father found out with the burns he’d been bringing home the past few weeks.

“I–it’s not th–that bad, Sensei. I can handle it.” Sensei walked over examining Izuku from head to toe before stopping in front of him, a hand settling on the shoulder Kacchan burned yesterday, squeezing a little harder than could be called gentle. Izuku felt tears prick in the corner of his eyes, and he dropped his gaze to the ground, biting his lip.

“So I see. This is handling it?” Izuku’s shoulder felt like it was on fire all over again, the burn screaming in protest as Sensei’s hand squeezed tighter.

“N–no, Sensei. I–I guess not.” The grip relaxed. Then the pain vanished along with the burn as a cool sensation washed over him. He looked back up at Sensei in surprise to find him smiling down at Izuku.

“There. Was that so hard to admit?” His smile was pitying, voice faintly amused even through its sympathy. “You’re about to start middle school and you let them abuse you because of your quirklessness. I would not be angry if you fought back. Cruel children will become cruel teachers, cruel policemen, cruel heroes. It would not be an injustice to put them in their place.”

Izuku swallowed. “I…I can prove them wrong.”

“Izuku, do you still hold onto the childish hope that one day they will wake up and realize their mistakes without you forcing their eyes open yourself?” There was a growing edge to Sensei’s voice.

He knew…He knew what Kacchan and his friends were doing was wrong. But Kacchan hadn’t always been cruel…his drive, his passion, if he could just be around someone who helped him cultivate the good parts of his personality he could be incredible. Then again…with every burn he came home with it got harder to hold onto that belief, and part of Izuku feared he was just holding onto the last of his happy dreams that had made up his life before Mom’s death.

“Should I take care of it, then?”

“No! I–I mean, no thank you, Sensei.” Dad co*cked his head.

“Then should I give you a suitable quirk so you can take care of the situation yourself?” Izuku’s palms were clammy, the unease building into panic in his chest, making it tight. He knew where those quirks came from and if he took one now, there was no telling what he would be asked to do next. His wandering eyes found the silver gurney and Izuku noticed a small fleck of blood on the leg. He felt sick.

“N–no, thank you. You’re right, Sensei, being quirkless isn’t a defect. I–I don’t need to be like them. Please…I can figure it out.”

The soft, oily quality to Dad’s voice was back. “Don’t look so frightened, son. Have I ever hurt you? I won’t force you to take one if you don’t want it. I’ve said it before–there is nothing wrong with you, only with the society that will forever see you as less than human. That is the real enemy here.”

Izuku looked down, cheeks burning with shame and frustration, unable to refute Sensei’s words. Every encounter with his father that ended this way left him feeling unfooted and wrong, wanting to argue, wanting to agree. It was hard to keep his thoughts straight.

“Thank you, Sensei.”

“Toshinori! Guess what happened at school!”

“Did Eraserhead expel the rest of your class?”

“Nope! Well, actually one person but that’s not the point. Thirteen sent me an offer to do an internship. I’m actually going to get to meet them!”

“You mean you’re going to choose thirteen over All Might? Didn’t he send you an offer too?”

“Oh my gosh don’t be such a big baby Toshi. Of course I’m going to take Thirteen’s offer, I want to be a rescue hero.”

“I’m just teasing you Tenko, I know. That’s wonderful news!”

Izuku stepped through Kurogiri’s portal and into the dimly lit living space at the end of the hall where he and Touya lived, shrugging off his backpack at the kitchen table. His arms hurt, blistered under the singed fabric of his uniform.

Why don’t you take a swan dive off the roof and pray for a quirk in your next life.

What a stupid thing to say. If he’d actually done it, Izuku was angry enough that he would leave Kacchan’s full name and address (he still lived in the same house as when they were kids) on his suicide note just to prove a point. It was wrong. It was evil. It was cruel. It was…it was villainous.

The tears he had been holding back all the way home finally spilled over as he stood, still clutching his backpack in his hand like a lifeline. Why was it that everyone was intent on reminding him that no matter what, he was not a person because he did not have a genetic mutation that was less than a thousand years old.

“You look worse than usual after school, nerd.” Izuku jumped, whirling around to see Dabi lounging on the couch, book in hand.

“Have you been posing like that until I came home? Because I still don’t think you can read.” The quip slipped out naturally, automatic after three years of living with his adopted brother. It felt flat with tears still dripping down his cheeks.

Dabi snorted, casually tossing the book on the table. “Rude.” He sat up, looking Izuku up and down intently. “Seriously, what happened? I've been gone for like a week.” Right. Dad had started sending Dabi out on ‘business’ recently. Izuku had a feeling he knew, but he hadn’t asked. He didn’t want to shatter the fragile parody of normalcy they shared by asking who Dabi had killed in the past week. He could only be grateful Sensei hadn’t tried to force him into something similar yet. Then again, why was he so intent on resisting the inevitable again? It wasn’t like the world was going to let him be a hero when it seemed intent on reminding him he shouldn’t even exist to begin with. Why did everything have to hurt?

“Why did you come back?” The words were out before he could process the thought, hanging in the air between them for a long moment.

“Huh?” Dabi was staring at him like he’d grown two heads. “Because I finished frying the unlucky bastard Sensei wanted dead, and I wanted Kurogiri’s pizza.”

“No. When you first woke up you ran away and Sensei let you go. Why did you come back?”

In the dim light Dabi’s eyes almost glowed, bright under jet black hair that Izuku knew was supposed to be white. He hadn’t spent three years telling almost all of his thoughts and fears to the sleeping boy not to know. Izuku could see the fresh burns on his arms from his ‘business’ trip and the backlash Blueflame caused.

“Because my old man is still a bastard who doesn’t care about anyone but himself, and I want to make sure he burns in hell and I’m the one setting the fire.” He didn’t look away, eyes still pinning Izuku in place, a predatory gleam in them. “And Sensei is the best way to get that. I don’t care about the rest. Heroes, society. They’re all full of sh*t anyway. I don’t care if they get torched in the process.”

Izuku swallowed, tongue feeling heavy. It was moments like these that he remembered just how dangerous Dabi was–maybe not to him, but it frightened Izuku to consider what he was capable of. He couldn’t deny the sincerity in his adopted brother’s voice. He meant every word.

It was like a switch flipped and Dabi flopped back on the couch, sighing. “But you wanna tell me how you got those burns? It wasn’t me. I could get rid of them, if you want.”

Izuku glanced back down at his stinging arms, pressing his lips together again. It would be that easy, wouldn’t it? Finally make them feel some of what they’d inflicted on him over the years.

You really think you could ever be anything but a Deku?

Deku might not have a quirk. He might just be a useless Deku, but he did know someone who could easily end the hell that Izuku’s school life had been for years. If he wanted to, he could punish every single teacher that looked the other way when red spider lilies were put on his desk or his lunch was dumped over his head. He could make sure that Kacchan never got the chance to take his cruelty to heroics. Or any of them, for that matter. Izuku might not be able to do it himself, but would be the one pulling the trigger.

It wouldn’t be an injustice to put them in their place.

Wait. What was he thinking?

A cold sense of horror stopped Izuku’s thoughts in their tracks, hollowing out his chest and leaving nowhere for him to hide from the fact that he had really considered it, for a moment. He…he really had. It was so tempting. Some part of him wanted to lash out, to hurt them. To hurt everything that told him he was less than human again and again.

What was happening to him?

“N–no. No thanks. I–I’m done with school, I think. I was just about to tell Sensei.” Dabi shrugged, picking up his book again.

“Your loss.”

Izuku stumbled down the hall. He hadn’t been lying. He would finish middle school online. He…he was going to hurt someone if he kept going. He wasn’t strong enough to keep doing this every day. Maybe Dad would let him just do more analysis assignments or something to pass the time. He didn’t know what he would do without escaping the compound for school every day even if school was a living hell…but he would never forgive himself if he got Kacchan or the others killed. And he knew his family. Izuku might have been able to pull the trigger but he could not stop that proverbial bullet. They would not walk away alive.

Maybe he really was a Deku.

Or maybe he really had just been born a villain.

_____________________

All Might stared at the stage as a slender young man with snow white hair walked across the stage toward the rat (stoat?) at the podium. He had broad shoulders and was dressed in a hero’s costume–black cargo pants with silver flames creeping up the sides and a matching long sleeve compression shirt, and archer’s gloves, the two covered fingers tipped in silver. Toshinori also knew the pockets were filled with various medical supplies.

To his right Detective Tsukauchi was grinning broadly, briefly meeting Toshinori’s gaze. “To think he called you a banana slug faced slime the first time you met.”

Toshinori chuckled. He could not properly find the words to describe how proud he was of the young man he’d had the honor of raising and calling his son. They had come so far, and seeing Tenko grow into the kind, strong, lively young man he had become was the most rewarding experience of Toshinori’s life. His throat felt tight.

To his left Present Mic blew his nose, openly crying. He grinned sheepishly at Toshinori when their eyes met. “I’m just so happy for him, ya dig?” Toshinori did dig, and as Tenko bowed to Nezu, he could feel himself tearing up too.

You would be so proud of him, Master.

The boy, no, the young man, straightened out of his bow and turned to the audience as Nezu chirped, “Shimura Tenko, Pro Hero Phoenix!”

Toshinori clapped until his hands were numb.

Chapter 7: Chapter 7

Chapter Text

Tenko scowled at his reflection in the mirror, giving his hair an experimental fluff. A small piece of drywall, accompanied by a chalky cloud of dust, fell out, making him sneeze. Yeah…he was gonna have to shower before monthly pancake night. Damn. He was already running late, but he was also not going to track half a building into Toshinori’s house.

Despite his annoyance and the many budding bruises he could feel, Tenko couldn’t really drum up any real resentment–every single person who was caught in the collapse of a faulty construction site was alive. In fact, the most severely injured person would only need to stay in the hospital a few days. Tenko himself had found her, trapped underneath a massive chunk of concrete in what was to be the parking garage of a new shopping center.

Besides, it wasn’t like Toshinori could get on his case about being late to things–even when hero work didn’t hold him up, the man still had no sense of time.

“Phoenix!” He turned to find Thirteen walking toward him in the empty locker room. “Good work today, we got the last of those people out just in time thanks to you.”

Tenko smiled faintly at the praise. He still couldn’t believe he was working for his childhood idol–they had not disappointed him either, being just as incredibly kind, skilled, and badass as his ten year old self had imagined. Almost two years out of U.A. and he could confidently say that he had already grown tremendously as a hero thanks to their mentorship.

“I’m just glad I could get her out from under the pillar before she passed out from the gas leak. We were lucky there wasn’t any power in the basem*nt or it would have blown and leveled the block.”

Thirteen hummed softly in agreement. “Regardless, you did well. I wanted to ask what you were doing the Wednesday after next. I know it’s one of your days off, but I’ve been asked to do a presentation for Eraserhead’s first years at the USJ on rescue heroics. I thought you might want to join.”

Tenko blinked in surprise even as a small thrill of excitement ran through him. Shota had been complaining that this year was going to be a headache and the school year hadn’t even started yet. But as bitchy as his adopted uncle could be, he was equally tight-lipped. And Tenko was dying to find out why he’d heard not one, not two, but three separate grumbled complaints after the entrance exams had passed.

But also, it meant that Thirteen valued his input enough to bring him along and present to prospective hero kids–that alone was enough to make him say yes even if he hadn’t already wanted to. “Yeah, that sounds fun. I want to see Eraserhead’s class before he expels half of them anyway.”

Thirteen chuckled. “I wouldn’t even count on the whole class being at the USJ. They have to survive eight days before that and I wouldn’t take those odds where Eraserhead is concerned.”

Tenko shook his head, grinning. “I can’t argue with you there. He expelled seven people on my first day in class.” He’d spent half his childhood trading snark with Shota and he was still intimidated when he’d had the full attention and, at times, disapproval of Eraserhead turned toward him.

“I’ll tell Eraserhead you’ll be joining us, then. We’ll be teaching them about quirk use in disaster situations, as well as how dangerous those quirks can be to civilians if they are not careful.”

Tenko nodded again, giving up on trying to pick the drywall out of his hair and checking his watch. “Cool. I’ll be there then, anything else?”

He couldn’t see Thirteen’s expression behind him in the mirror with their helmet still on, but he could feel the amusem*nt in their voice. “Why the hurry? Do you have a date tonight, Shimura?”

“Am I not allowed to want to go home after crawling through a collapsed building for four hours straight?” Tenko could feel the bright red blush creeping up his neck, which only made him scowl more darkly. Hopefully he was covered in enough building dust that it didn’t show.

“You know, there is some extra paperwork–”

“Okay, okay, fine! You win. Yes, I am running late for pancake night and my dad is most likely telling my girlfriend how I disintegrated a filing cabinet at the precinct hiding from Detective Tsukauchi when I was ten and it solved a cold case by dumb luck. Are you happy now?”

“It sounds like you have a reputation to save, why are you standing around here?”

Tenko threw his hands in the air, a low groan slipping out of his throat as Thirteen’s voice followed him into the hallway as he made his escape.

“Be at U.A. at eight, I’ll meet you at the front since this is all a bit last minute, so I’m not sure if I can get you gate credentials before then.”

Tenko popped a thumbs up over his shoulder, not turning as he finally made it to the sanctuary of the shower room where mentors who knew exactly where he was going wouldn’t follow. Thirteen was right in one respect and wrong in another–yes, he did have a reputation to save, and also no he did not. It was far beyond saving at this point. Toshinori had ensured that years ago. All Tenko could do at this point was damage control.

An hour later Tenko was kicking off his shoes in Toshinori’s house, his dad’s voice bouncing off the walls and echoing down to the genkan.

“And then! Then, just as we had begun picking up the files, Tsukauchi froze, holding a folder in each hand. He looked like he’d seen a ghost. And then he ran out of the room. Wouldn’t you believe we had the murderer behind bars a week later all thanks to Tenko’s little mishap!”

Yep…Tenko rolled his eyes fondly. He was right. He rounded the corner to find Toshinori proudly settling back into his recliner while Fuyumi’s light laugh pulled Tenko’s lips up into a smile. Nyana sat comfortably in her lap, able to survey her kingdom from Fuyumi’s spot on the couch and occasionally butting Fuyumi’s hand if she thought the petting had stopped for too long.

“Sorry I’m late,” he moved to lean against the back of the couch, settling his chin on the top of Fuyumi’s head. She glanced up at him with a small smile. Tenko raised an eyebrow at Toshinori. “Are you done ruining my character yet?”

Toshinori grinned sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck. “I told you, my boy, that embarrassing you is in the adoption papers. It’s part of the duty I swore to you as your father.”

“Besides, Toshinori-san doesn’t have to ruin your character, you did that years ago yourself, Tenko.” Fuyumi’s voice was so mild that she might as well have been commenting on the weather, though after years of practice he could easily hear the smug, teasing lilt to her voice.

Tenko gaped down at her in betrayal, finding her staring up at him, grey eyes sparkling mischievously as Toshinori’s booming laugh split the air once more. He sighed, conceding defeat before coming to join Fuyumi on the couch. Nyana stayed on her lap, the traitor.

“Well, while you two were busy gossiping, I happened to have been invited to help Thirteen lecture Eraserhead’s new first years at U.A.”

Fuyumi hummed cheerfully, “Really? Then you’ll have to say hello to Shoto for me. I just found out this afternoon that he’s going to be in Eraserhead’s class.”

Tenko snorted. “I’m pretty sure that is the last thing Shoto would want his second week of school. ‘Hey kid, so your sister told me to say hi when she was over at my house last Tuesday.’”

“Just don’t announce it in front of his class. Shoto likes you, he’ll be happy to see you again.”

“I’ll say hello to him as well, Fuyumi, I’ll be dropping by too! I’m excited to see this year’s crop of first years.” Toshinori stood, slapping his knees and giving Tenko’s still damp hair a ruffle as he passed by. “Well now that Tenko’s here I’ll get started on the pancakes. Do you still want cat shaped chocolate chip, Tenko?” He turned to Fuyumi with a wink. “It’s the only way he would eat them for years, you know.”

“Dad you know that’s not true!”

Tenko buried his face in his hands when Fuyumi burst into giggles again, stretching out a leg to poke him in the side with her toe, successfully harassing him out of hiding.

He scowled at her out of the corner of his eye before snatching her foot to save his ribs, glaring between a still chuckling Toshinori and Fuyumi.

“This is bullying.”

_______________________

Izuku leaned closer to the grainy video on the screen, trying to ascertain just what exactly had flitted across the feed. It was only a split second, but if he were to skip three minutes and twenty-two seconds forward, he would see the bright flashing lights of police and EMTs carting the body of pro hero Dashfist out under a white sheet.

He had a hunch he knew who it was, but what he couldn’t figure out was the how.

Izuku had found the weird, cult-like following the Hero Killer had gathered online, but there was no information he could find on what quirk the man possessed that made him such an efficient killer.

In all honesty, it sent an uncomfortable shiver down his spine. He knew many pros were corrupt, or in heroics for the wrong reasons…but Stain’s fanatical ideology was creepy. It was the kind of thing that ignored all logic and reason in favor of the kind of nebulous zealotry that was entirely disconnected from reality.

Izuku wondered which underground heroes were working on the case–they were the ones primarily dispatched for serial killers and manhunts like this, especially when unknown quirks were in play because of the versatility and resourcefulness that came from underground training. Maybe if he trolled the underground forums…sometimes the sudden lack of information on an underground hero was just as useful as chatter, and if some of the heroes he kept tabs on had nobody talking about their most recent cases, then that pointed to the fact that they were following something closely guarded. Something like hunting a serial killer.

He glanced at the clock: 6:47p.m. He should really decide what he was going to give to his father tomorrow. Late work was nonexistent where Sensei was concerned–Izuku hadn’t tried asking for more time on any of his father’s assignments, and frankly, he had no intention of finding out what would happen if he did.

So if he wanted dinner tomorrow to be pleasant, then he had better find someone to analyze that would interest Sensei—

His door bounced open, abruptly cutting off Izuku’s train of thoughts as a wiry arm wrapped around his neck, cold bits of metal pressing into it as another hand mussed his hair.

“Hey! Dabi what are you mpph–” His words were cut off as he was jerked against Dabi, who now leaned into view, eyes bright, a lazy grin stretched across his face.

“What was that, nerd? I can’t hear you.” Izuku twisted, straining against Dabi’s grip to scowl up at him, half-heartedly smacking a fist against the other’s chest. They both knew who would win a fight between the two of them, quirks or not, and it was not Izuku.

Dabi released him, straightening up and still wearing that infuriating smirk as Izuku brushed his hair away from his face. It was pathetic, he knew, but even these rough displays of affection made his eyes water if he thought too hard about it. Dabi was abrasive and sarcastic…but he was never cruel, and Izuku wasn’t even sure if the older boy knew any other way of expressing affection. So he’d take what he could get. However at this moment…

“What do you want? I’m trying to get this analysis ready for Sensei tomorrow, you know he doesn’t like things late.”

“Change of plans. Your daddy dearest actually sent me to find you. Looks like he’s decided you're a big high school boy now and it’s time to pull your weight. We have a job to do next week.”

Izuku froze, not even flinching as a thick file dropped onto his desk, thunderously loud against the abrupt static of his thoughts.

So it was finally happening.

He’d thought…he’d thought he would be more afraid when this happened. That some part of him would rebel against the idea so fundamentally that it would prove to himself that he wasn’t really a villain. That somehow he could…

But all he could feel was cold, numb resignation as he stared at the thick file. He’d known…he’d known that whatever plans Sensei had for him had been accelerated once he’d quit middle school. If he was honest, Izuku knew his time was running out but he’d hoped…well it didn’t matter, not anymore.

He looked back up to find Dabi watching him, arms crossed. “What is it?” He pulled the folder forward, flipping it open with hands he wished were shaking. He wished he was crying. He wanted some kind of proof…

“Don’t know, I haven’t looked at mine yet. You can give me the sparknotes later though, you know I can’t read.” Izuku snorted, unable to stop the noise even through the strange numbness that seemed to have settled over him. It was almost a relief. That finally, this strange limbo he had been in was settled, even if his heart ached, too tired to frantically rage against the ending.

Dabi turned to leave, throwing over his shoulder. “Sensei said he wants you downstairs once you’ve finished reading it.” Then the door clicked shut, and Izuku was alone again.

He guessed he was about to find out the details of what Sensei was up to after all these years. Finally focusing on the documents in front of him, Izuku read the first sentence. Then read it again.

There was no way that he was reading it correctly.

U.A. High School…

The further he read, the more Izuku couldn’t believe what he was seeing, until eventually he was thumbing through the thick folder, desperately trying to get a clear picture of what exactly Sensei was trying to accomplish by attacking the number one hero school in Japan.

Experimental test run of A-class nomu…nomu? That was a new term for him, he would have to look it up. Izuku’s eyes trailed down the page and his breath left him in a huff.

Ideal outcome is to eliminate All Might.

No. That…that couldn’t be right. All Might was the most powerful hero in Japan…in all the world. How on earth did Sensei think this nomu thing could kill All Might? Why kill All Might? Izuku could admit he had mixed feelings about All Might–he’d taken Tomura away from him, he couldn’t actually save everyone, and his smile made Izuku feel sick to look at on TV now. But he also knew why All Might hadn’t come back for him, as painful as it was–heroes did not rescue villains. They captured them. They killed them, when they could get away with it. But they did not save them.

Eliminate All Might.

Sensei never made a move unless he was certain there was a high probability of success. He was calculated, cruel, and ruthless. Izuku had never once seen him lose, and at this point he wasn’t sure if his father could lose. Who…who was Sensei?

He flipped through the file, passing over schematics for the Unforeseen Simulation Joint, lists of students and their quirks for him to analyze, names and quirks of hired two-bit villains Izuku had long figured out Sensei used as disposable canon fodder.

Pro Hero Thirteen: Part time teacher, disposable…

This was not run of the mill villany. But Izuku had known that, somehow. He’d known for a long time that his father was not an ordinary villain. But even he could not fathom what his end goal was in all of this.

Secondary objective: capture pro hero Eraserhead alive.

His heartbeat was suddenly loud in his ears. Eraserhead. Eraserhead, who worked underground and saved people who had nobody else looking for them. Eraserhead, who fought practically quirkless. Eraserhead who saved that purple-haired boy from Sensei’s men years ago. Saved him from the same fate Izuku was destined for–or who was he kidding, Eraserhead saved the boy’s life, because he doubted Sensei would have let him live after he took his quirk.

Secondary objective: capture pro hero Eraserhead alive.

There were no other details beside the small footnote at the end of the file. Just a single, neat note in his father’s handwriting, almost as if it were a last minute thought.

A sick, burning feeling churned in Izuku’s stomach as he read the sentence over and over again. This was different than the poor souls Sensei somehow kidnapped to harvest their quirks. This was a pro hero, and not just an ordinary limelight hero–this was Eraserhead, who was virtually unknown to the public, but one of the most successful underground heroes based on the limited information Izuku had been able to find. He was undoubtedly trained in escaping villains if the need arose given that support for underground heroics was often too little too late if the hero was made during an operation.

There was no doubt Sensei knew all of this about Eraserhead and probably more.

So why…why take the risk? Why Eraserhead?

Because if there was one thing that Sensei was, it was secretive. Even when Izuku went to school he would meet Kurogiri in a rotating set of locations far from the public eye each time. To this day, Izuku did not know where the compound was situated in Mustafu, if it even was in Mustafu. With Kurogiri, they could be in Hokkaido for all he knew. He had never walked out of the compound under his own power. He was always warped wherever he’d been allowed to go that day.

Though he didn’t know why, Izuku knew his father went to great lengths to stay in the shadows. So why risk taking a hero who could bring it all crashing down, or even bring a SWAT team down on them if things went really wrong? Why Eraserhead?

After he’d finally accepted that All Might would not save him, Izuku used to dream that Eraserhead would. He’d saved the purple-haired boy, after all, a child who had a villain’s quirk. He’d imagined Eraserhead would come and find him before he became a villain. Just like he had for the other boy.

But now…now the only way Izuku would be meeting his childhood hero was if Sensei called him into the lab while the hero was still alive.

Would he think Izuku was a monster?

A cowardly part of him desperately hoped he would not see what happened to Eraserhead once Sensei got his hands on him–and he would.

And Izuku would help him. He might not be the one to physically drag Eraserhead here, but his blood would be on Izuku’s hands even as he hid in the shadows like the deku he was. He was too much of a deku to say no to Sensei. He wasn’t strong enough. He never had been.

If Izuku had learned anything over the years, it was this: Sensei did not lose.

____________________________

“Sensei…where are we going?” Izuku glanced nervously between his father’s back and Kurogiri walking placidly behind them. He’d finished reading the file for the USJ attack and reported to the lab as he’d been instructed, only to have his father motion toward a door Izuku had never been through at the other end of the room.

“Surely you’ve realized by now that our labs are more extensive than what you’ve seen thus far?” Izuku shut his mouth, feeling a bit stupid. To be honest, he tried not to think about the labs at all, but it did make sense that there was more to them than the single white-walled room he’d been to.

They reached the end of a long hallway and went through a sliding metal door at the end, soft air hissing as the door opened and shut on its own with the click of a lock behind them.

Izuku stopped so suddenly that Kurogiri almost walked into him. They were standing in a massive circular chamber, numerous passages branching off and winding away out of sight like the pathways of a neuron. But the room…the room was lined from floor to ceiling on one side with large tubes of purple liquid…and inside were hulking, dark figures with disproportionately large heads, arms, legs and even wings. Twisted and stretched in odd places like some kind of nightmare, they floated, still, as if in some kind of stasis, all around them.

In the center one of the creatures stood still beside a steel operating table that was surrounded by various equipment and computer monitors. It did not even twitch as they entered.

“W–what is this place, Sensei?”

Izuku’s father finally turned to face him, a smile painting his face as he gestured grandly with one arm, “This is one of the workshops in the labs. You were curious about what a nomu is, correct?”

Izuku nodded wordlessly, not trusting himself to speak as his father put an arm around his shoulders, walking them up to the hulking creature in the center of the room. It did not even blink.

“This is a nomu, Izuku. Specifically, it is designed to tear down the pillars of our society who continually uphold the corrupt ideals that keep people like you as second class citizens and oppresses those who would bring forth a better world.”

Izuku stared up at the nomu, its stench was vaguely reminiscent of fish and seaweed left to rot, skin seeming to barely contain its bulging muscles as it towered above him. He’d been expecting some kind of machine, or a weapon, not this. Every nerve in his body screamed that something was very wrong about this…this thing.

“Oh.” Izuku’s voice was small, unable to voice the nameless horror he felt just being near the nomu. “What can–what does it do?”

“This one is a somewhat clever combination of a shock absorption, several basic strength enhancers, and a self-healing ability for good measure. It’s built for brute strength more than anything, so it doesn’t have much use beyond that, but considering it's meant to kill All Might it doesn’t need anything else.”

Shock absorption…a young man on a table with yellow eyes filled with tears.

A strong young woman in a police officer’s uniform…

Self-healing. Look, Izuku, see how the cut heals itself almost immediately?

Izuku swallowed hard, feeling oddly disconnected from his body as he looked up to find Sensei watching him, smile still firmly fixed in place. He looked back at the nomu. It still hadn’t moved.

“Is it…is it alive?”

“In a sense yes, and in a sense, no. Its body functions perfectly fine seeing as its heart and internal organs are still intact, but the mind rarely, if ever survives the process of refining the vessel to hold multiple quirks. It still understands basic commands, and it is unwaveringly loyal. This one will respond to you, myself and Dabi. Go ahead, try it.”

Izuku could barely get the words out, the feeling that something was stuck in his throat growing with each moment. “N–nomu, p–please look at me.”

Instantly, the creature’s head jerked down to stare at him, dull, filmy red eyes seeming to look straight through him. Human eyes. He wanted to throw up.

“These are the weapons that will help destabilize the illusion of peace the supposed heroes of society have blinded the public with. Make sure you include it in your analysis, Izuku. Any other questions?”

Izuku almost shook his head before another thought crossed his mind. “Y–yes, Sensei. The report said this one was ranked as an A-class. Th–that implies an S–class. If you–w–we, want to kill All Might, why not send an S–class?”

Sensei gave his shoulder a light, approving squeeze, pride tinting his voice. Izuku hated how warm it made him feel inside. How was it he could feel so numb and so proud and so horribly hopeless all at the same time?

“Good question, Izuku. Because there is currently only one S-class nomu, and its primary feature is not combat, though it is extremely useful when push comes to shove in a fight. However, it is currently the only one of its kind to retain some form of sentience once the refinement process was over. I hope to try again in the near future for similar results.”

Out of the corner of his eye, Izuku saw Kurogiri shift ever so slightly. He’d been so quiet that Izuku nearly forgot about him.

Only one S-class nomu.

“K–kurogiri, what–what are you?” Izuku winced as the words left his mouth. It felt disrespectful to ask ‘what are you’ to the person who had consistently cooked for him, read him bedtime stories and made sure the loneliness was just a little less crushing when he came to live at the compound, but he had to know.

Kurogiri looked at Izuku silently for a moment before his gaze shifted to Sensei, head tilted as if in question.

To Izuku surprise, he heard a chuckle slip out of his father. He could count on one hand how many times he had heard him laugh. “Very good, Izuku. I’m impressed. Go ahead and tell him then, Kurogiri, since he’s guessed.”

Kurogiri’s eyes flicked back to Izuku, who barely dared to breathe. “I am a nomu, Midoriya Izuku. I was created to serve your father and by extension, you.”

“And be–before that?”

Kurogiri was silent for a very long moment, never looking away from Izuku, who felt tears begin to prickle at the corners of his eyes. Finally, the nomu spoke.

“My name was Shirakumo Oboro, Midoriya Izuku.” There was a hollowness to his tone that chilled Izuku to his core. “But that is neither here nor there, as that boy is long gone. Your father gave me life, and in return I protect his and yours with mine.”

Izuku nodded silently, not trusting himself to speak without crying. Boy?

“Truly, Kurogiri is one of my best works, and I have yet to replicate his results half as well. I believe it comes down not just to a useful base quirk, but to the individual’s psychological makeup beforehand as well. But we can discuss specifics later. If you are interested in their creation I can arrange a tutoring session with the doctor later.” Izuku stumbled a few steps before finding his feet as his father steered him toward the doorway where Kurogiri now waited. “Well, now that you’ve got a better understanding of your tools, I expect your analysis by Saturday, Izuku. This is a big step of trust I am giving you.”

Sensei’s hand tightened around his shoulder. “Do not disappoint me.”

He was barely aware of his surroundings as they at last left the underground laboratory extension and he made his way back into the living quarters of the compound, head spinning.

He knew what nomu were now.

He wished he didn’t.

Sensei thought the nomu could kill All Might.

Izuku was afraid he was right.

He made it back to his room, all but collapsing at his desk and staring at the file. He had been so shocked by the nomu…by what his father had done to create Kurogiri, that he hadn’t even managed to ask why Sensei was risking exposure by kidnapping Eraserhead.

Why was he taking that risk?

I hope to try again in the near future for similar results.

Izuku’s train of thought abruptly ground to a halt.

These are the weapons that will help destabilize the illusion of peace the supposed heroes of society have blinded the public with.

It was a handwritten footnote. Almost as if it were an afterthought. Or an unexpected opportunity. Even Izuku, who followed Eraserhead religiously, had not known he was a teacher.

Erasure was a powerful quirk. It would also make a powerful, powerful weapon in the right hands. Please no…no not Eraserhead.

Izuku’s chest felt tight.

But it made far too much sense given what he’d just seen. Nomu were made from people. All of those quirks…all of those people. He’d assumed his father had killed the ones who hadn’t died when their quirks were taken but now…this was far worse than anything he could have ever imagined.

Sensei…Sensei was taking people and torturing them until they became monsters. Monsters designed to kill All Might. To…to kill heroes. Not just All Might. Sensei hated heroes. He wouldn’t stop at All Might.

The idea alone was so horribly enormous that Izuku could hardly believe he was seriously considering the fact that his own father had the ability to kill All Might. And if he could kill All Might then there was nobody who would be able to stand in the way because All Might was, well, he was All Might!

Now consider a weapon that could not only fight but completely void its opponent’s quirk while simultaneously activating another. Effectively rendering any opponent quirkless in a quirk based fight. Now if you added some semblance of critical reasoning skills…if you gave that weapon Kurogiri’s problem solving skills…

It would be nearly unstoppable.

And Sensei had chosen Eraserhead to attempt to replicate his success with Kurogiri. There was no other reason to take such a massive risk and it made horrible, twisted sense. Risk to reward.

And Izuku was going to help.

His eyes burned, but still no tears fell.

Izuku was going to be a villain, but Eraserhead…Eraserhead was good. He visited some of the criminals he jailed, helped them get jobs upon their release. He was one of the underground heroes with significant contacts in vigilante circles, he was apparently a teacher, he didn’t condemn children to a life a villany before they’d even had the chance to choose.

He didn’t leave them alo–Izuku stopped that particular thought before it could fully form. He’d shed enough tears over that.

Eraserhead was a hero. A real one. Someone who was everything Izuku once thought all heroes were. Someone he thought maybe he could become if just proved he was worth it.

Izuku was now an essential part of condemning him to a fate worse than death. Because Sensei did not lose, and if he had set his sights on Eraserhead then as long as he lived nowhere would be safe for him.

Izuku…Izuku wasn’t just a villain. He was a monster.

There was nothing, nothing he could do to prevent the inevitable. He couldn’t stop himself from becoming a villain. He couldn’t save Eraserhead. As long as he was alive Sensei would–

Wait.

As long as…as long as Eraserhead was alive there was no escaping the horrible fate that waited for him.

But what if…

Izuku’s hands shook as he pushed the folder away, staring at the schematics for the USJ, not really seeing them, mind racing.

The attack would be chaotic. It was intended to cause chaos, fear, to demoralize and strike a devastating blow in one fell swoop.

In such massive chaos…accidents happen. Secondary objectives can fail when prioritizing the primary purpose of the attack.

There was a way…

Izuku scrubbed his burning eyes, trying to alleviate the pain, wishing the tears would just fall as his racing thoughts finally fell still into an eerie calm.

He knew what Sensei had given to him. Dabi was the proverbial bullet. But Izuku was the one pulling the trigger even if Sensei was aiming the gun.

It was his job to plan. To pull the strings.

Do not disappoint me.

Izuku was a villain. That was an inescapable fact. But he would not become a monster.

Eraserhead would not suffer the same fate as Kurogiri.

Izuku picked up a pen, pulling the file toward him once more, ruthlessly shoving down the young part of him that wanted to curl up in a corner and never wake up again.Villains did not have time to mourn the heroes they wished to become.

Izuku had work to do.

Eraserhead would not leave the USJ alive.

Chapter 8: Chapter 8

Chapter Text

“Okay, raise your hand if you’ve ever killed someone.” The first years were glancing between one another with hesitant confusion, though thankfully no hands went up. Tenko was honestly not sure where he would have gone from there if someone had. In his defense he was winging this part. Of all the days for Thirteen to get food poisoning…but no matter what rank on the hero charts you were, no hero could win against bad tuna. And of course Toshinori was running late because he couldn’t ignore a single stray cat in a tree, which left Tenko in this position.

The spiky blonde haired sh*t who Tenko was already sure was one of Shota’s “headaches” let out an unimpressed tut.

“Right.” Tenko tugged off one of his gloves, holding a bare hand in the air. “So before we get started, you should know my quirk is Decay. Anything I touch with all five of my fingers will rapidly decompose until there is nothing left but dust. Eraser, can I borrow that?”

He could see Aizawa smirk faintly behind his capture weapon as the older hero tossed the ball he used for quirk apprehension tests high in the air for Tenko to catch. He snagged it out of the air, holding it lightly with his fingers before them, letting it crumble away into dust. An audible gasp rippled across the pack of students.

“Whoa it’s just gone–” A redhead leaned forward, eyes wide as he watched the dust fall.

“Amazing, it's a lot like Thirteen’s!” If he wasn't mistaken, Tenko was fairly sure that the girl in the modified pink space suit who whispered to another girl in green had modeled it off of Thirteen’s debut costume.

“Dude, how does he like, shower?” A boy with yellow hair was enthusiastically elbowing Shoto, who rocked at the motion, surveying Tenko blankly.

“I assume carefully.” He really hoped the kid would be able to relax and find some friends here. Tenko knew a thing or two about stolen childhoods, and while he’d been lucky enough to have some returned to him, he couldn’t say the same about Shoto. He hoped U.A. could change that.

“Th–that’s a villain’s quirk though!”A panicked whisper coming from the kid wearing a hero costume that looked weirdly like a diaper in the back of the group caught Tenko’s attention and he turned toward him, raising an eyebrow.

“Yeah. I know.” The kid squeaked, freezing as if he hadn’t expected Tenko to address him as a hush fell over the students. Honestly what a little brat, but if at this point in his career he couldn’t handle hearing ignorant little sh*ts mouth off he wouldn’t have made it out of high school. “And that attitude is what creates villains when you teach people to fear certain quirks because they could kill.”

He could feel the students go still as he looked them over.

“One wrong touch and I will murder the person I am trying to rescue. I am not dangerous. I’m deadly. And so are you. But as many people as you could hurt, you’ve made the choice to save them. That’s what separates you from a villain, not your quirks potential for destruction. That’s why you’re in hero school. Remember that.”

Geez how did Shota do this every day? Tenko swore he could feel their eyes on him and he hated it. But at the very least his message seemed to be sinking in, as in front of him backs straightened, energy rippling across the gathering of students as they looked back at him with new determination. Good at least he hadn’t been too depressing…he was trying to impress how important it was to be careful with their quirks, but he hadn’t set out to become his uncle just yet. He slipped his glove back on.

“Now–”

Beside him, Shota stiffened. A second later Tenko could feel it too, a chill running up his spine as a new sound joined the quiet rush of water from the ocean sector. It sounded almost like wind in a tunnel and with it…voices.

Tenko turned with Aizawa to see a crowd of people stepping out of at least a dozen small, dark purple tears in the air. It was too far for him to see clearly, but it didn’t take a genius to realize that nobody simply came to the USJ to visit unannounced. Nobody should have been able to breach U.A’s security protocols without warning in the first place.

There were at least fifty of them. Tall, short, covered in spikes or sporting multiple limbs…jeering and shouting as they caught sight of the two heroes and students at the top of the steps. There was a cold feeling in the pit of his stomach as he heard the uneasy mutters of the first years behind him.

“Is this another test?”

“No…I think those are real villains!”

This was bad. They were isolated, and these kids had less than two full weeks of hero training under their belts. Beside him, Shota seemed to have come to the same conclusion, one hand gripping his capture weapon, looking intently at the swelling crowd below.

“Real villains, how? The alarms aren’t even going off!”

“They’re probably jamming communication from the USJ.” That voice was Shoto’s, eerily calm against the backdrop of panic, but Tenko could hear the tension bleeding through. “It makes sense to choose a location that’s self-contained than to try and cut off all of U.A.”

Tenko swallowed. They needed to get these kids out of here now. There was no way he and Eraserhead could protect them all if they got swarmed by the crowd below.

“Phoenix.” Eraserhead’s grim voice cut through the buzz of thoughts in Tenko’s head. “Protect the students. Get them out of here.” He clicked his goggles down.

“But Sensei!” The red headed kid ran several steps forward. “There’s tons of them, let us help you, you can’t erase all their quirks at once!”

Eraserhead paused for a second. “Go with Phoenix. No hero is a one trick pony. I’ll cover your exit.”

Without waiting for another answer, he leaped down the steps, throwing himself headlong into the crowd of villains. Tenko shoved down the small kernel of fear as he watched villains begin to fall. The kids weren’t wrong to worry–Eraserhead was an underground hero who excelled in ambushes, not prolonged head-on fights. Tenko himself did not specialize in combat. But they were both pros for a reason. And right now Phoenix had a job to do.

He turned to the students, herding them toward the doors. “Okay, everybody out! You!” He pointed at the kid with motors coming out of his legs that he was at least sixty percent sure was related to Ingenium. sh*t, he didn’t even know these kids' names. “What’s your name?”

The kid might as well have saluted from how sharp his voice was. “Iida Ten–”

“Great. Iida, you look fast. Run ahead, let them know that villains have attacked the USJ. And you–”

The words died in his throat as twenty feet in front of them, another tear in the air appeared between them and the door. Only this time Tenko was close enough to see its swirling tendrils of purple and black, almost cloud-like as it rapidly formed into a misty figure in a green vest half inside one of the dozen portals that were opening up around him like something out of a nightmare, luminous yellow eyes taking them in as the class skidded to a halt.

No.

“Where is All Might?” The figure’s voice was calm, collected and completely void of emotion.

No.

“Iida, go. Now.” Tenko didn’t dare take his eyes off the figure, exactly as he remembered it, even eleven years later. He could hear Iida begin to protest something about not wanting to leave his class. Noble, but stupid. They had no idea what they were up against. “Now.”

“No matter, he will come eventually.” Kurogiri’s voice was still calm. It had always been calm. Whether it was comforting them or cutting whatever unlucky henchmen Sensei deemed unnecessary in half. He was always calm. Had he been calm when they killed Izuku? Had he been the one to do it? The cold feeling was heating up, white hot anger that Tenko had long since tried to let go of bubbling rapidly back to the surface. “And my part is to separate and torture you all to death.”

“You think you get to kill me!? I’ll kill you!” The spiky blonde sh*t and the redhead flashed past Tenko before he could grab either one, throwing themselves toward the figure in a massive explosion and flash of black smoke.

“Wait!” The smoke cleared and neither of the boys was in sight. Damn! Tenko took a step forward, giving Iida a small push to the side. “He can warp you with those portals. Don’t touch them!”

Kurogiri’s gaze finally fell on him. “You are not Thirteen.”

Tenko met his eyes, letting both gloves fall to the ground. “No, I’m not.” Out of the corner of his eyes he could see Iida beginning to edge to the back of the group and sideways. Good. They would need all the help they could get. But he needed Kurogiri’s attention on him so the kid could make it out. “My name is Phoenix.”

The yellow eyes flickered, seeming to consider him for a moment.

“I believe when we last met, your name was Shigaraki Tomura.”

Then the portals flared, all hell breaking loose as Kurogiri attacked.

________________

“Not gonna lie, I’m surprised you wanted to come today. I didn’t think you had the stomach for it.”

Izuku glanced up to find Dabi watching him, blue eyes glinting in the dim light. His face was bare, unlike Izuku, who could already feel himself sweating under the mask he’d just slipped on. A green fox mask with all but his eyes covered. Izuku wasn’t ready for the world to see him as he was and lose what little freedom he had to leave the compound. And if Bakugo was going to be there then he couldn’t afford to take any chances.

“I want to see the nomu in action. Sensei said I could learn to make them later, if we do well today.”

Dabi rolled his eyes. “I should have guessed you wanted to come for nerd sh*t. Just stay close, I don’t want to have to burn down a jail today if you get yourself caught.”

A swirling portal opened up in front of them and Dabi grinned, giving Izuku an after you gesture.

“Looks like it’s showtime.” Izuku squared his shoulders, swallowing the lump in his throat. It sank to rest uncomfortably next to his racing heart as he stepped through the portal and into the USJ.

He could not afford to lose today.

Some part of Izuku expected a war, a massive battle and shouts and screams. And it was loud. The villains shouting at one another, distant screams from sectors Izuku assumed Kurogiri sent students to, and a large explosion shook the ceiling to Izuku’s right.

But somehow it all felt muted as he found himself standing next to Dabi about thirty feet away from where Eraserhead was ducking and weaving between villains like a tornado. Something was missing.

Then it hit him.

All Might. All Might was not a quiet fighter. And he was not here.

Dabi seemed to have reached the same conclusion, crossing his arms with an unimpressed scowl.

“Well sh*t. We go to all this trouble to get a welcome party to wear the big man down and he’s not even here yet.” He stretched, and Izuku could hear his neck pop. “Guess we’ll just have to convince him to hurry.” A jet of blue flames lit the surrounding trees on fire instantly, a column of smoke rapidly rising to cover the area.

Izuku saw Eraserhead throw a villain into the other, leaping over the pair to engage a third. He couldn’t tell with the goggles, but it felt like the hero’s eyes settled on them for a brief second, tracking the path of the flames back to where they stood.

“Dabi. If you want any cannon fodder left you’re going to need to take care of Eraserhead.”

“Sensei wants him in one piece, right?” Izuku couldn’t peel his eyes away from Eraserhead, who moved so seamlessly that it almost looked like an elaborately choreographed dance. Izuku knew he was a graceful fighter but seeing it in person made his hands itch for something to write with. He really was so amazing.

“If possible, yeah. But it’s secondary to All Might.” The excitement he felt getting to see Eraserhead fight died abruptly with the weight of what he had to do today.

Eraserhead landed heavily, rolling for a second, his hair weirdly enough defying gravity and remaining suspended in the air like it was floating before abruptly dropping as the hero straightened, deftly dodging a villain who shot spikes from his hand past the hero and into another villain’s shoulder. The man looked stunned at the angry roar of pain his companion gave…almost as if he were surprised he could use his quirk. He threw an arm out at Eraserhead, whose hair was rising again only to let out a shout of frustration when nothing happened.

His hair. It must be a latent part of Erasure he hadn’t been able to see on the few grainy videos available on Eraserhead.

Dabi stepped forward. There was a coppery taste in Izuku’s mouth. “Wait. Hi–his hair. When it’s floating his quirk is active. If it falls it’s not. The greenery will probably be smokey and it’ll help you by shortening how long he can keep his eyes open. L–light it up.”

Dabi gave him a tiny shove, his grin turning feral. “Got it. Keep the nomu close, I’ll be back.”

Then he charged, throwing a massive wall of fire up, not faltering as shouts that morphed into screams of pain sounded out as several of the hired villains were unable to scramble out of the way in time.

He didn’t even pause as the fire abruptly cut off, Eraserhead’s gaze aimed directly at him, darting at the hero with a speed that even surprised Izuku.

Eraserhead met him head on, grabbing his arm and twisting out in a move that would easily break Dabi’s arm–his hair fell.

Even this far back Izuku could hear Dabi’s rough voice. “Time’s up.”

A hand coated in flames that Izuku had watched cremate bone seized Eraserhead’s shoulder, yanking them closer as the hero gave a shout of pain, the sickening smell of charred flesh joining the ash in the air.

How the pro did not pass out, Izuku could not tell, because the next second Dabi’s fire cut out once more as the two leapt apart for a moment. He could see Eraserhead’s teeth gritted, his left arm hanging limp. He couldn’t imagine the kind of damage Dabi dealt with that kind of attack.

The stalemate only lasted until Eraserhead’s hair fell once more and they were once again two blurs dancing in and out of the thickening smoke.

Izuku had seen Dabi fight. Hell, he’d sparred with him more times than he could count once Sensei decided that he was ready to learn.

But the raw energy and ferocity he was seeing now, blue fire flickering in and out every minute or so when Eraserhead was forced to blink was unnerving.

All around them bushes and grass burst into flame as the two passed, choking the air with thick black smoke and embers.

He could see it affecting the hero already.

Forty-five seconds before the next flash of flames.

Then thirty.

Even injured, Eraserhead was insanely fast, and any opportunity Dabi left open he immediately exploited with ruthless efficiency that reminded Izuku exactly why he was so effective in the underground.

But he couldn’t last forever. From his vantage point on the low hill, Izuku could see approaching figures from the sea sector and the earthquake sectors.

Even if All Might wasn’t here yet, they were running out of time. Dabi liked to play with his food before he ate it.

But time was a luxury Izuku did not have today.

He took several steps forward, closer and closer, eyes stinging from the smoke, hands shaking enough that he tucked them into his pockets. This was the only way. It was time to show the world what Deku was capable of.

“Nomu.” He met the red eyes of the beast standing beside him. It was perfectly loyal. Unquestioning. A silent killer who couldn’t spill Izuku’s secrets if it wanted to. Sensei really had given him all the tools he needed. “End the fight.”

The nomu flashed forward with inhuman speed, Dabi’s flames licking harmlessly around it as it cut between the two men snatching Eraserhead’s arm and whipping him into the air like he was made of paper.

Now that he was closer he could hear the hero’s arm snap with a sickening crunch as the nomu slammed him into the ground thick hand almost completely covering the heroes face, goggles snapping off and skidding across the ground when it smashed Eraserhead’s face to the ground.

The nomu reared back, fist clenched to bring down another blow on the hero. Izuku forced his eyes to remain open. He deserved to see this.

Then several things happened at once.

“Nomu, chill. Just keep him there for a hot second.” Dabi had recovered from the surprise of having the nomu interfere, tossing an annoyed look at Izuku, who ran forward. No, they couldn’t stop now, they were so close.

“I had it handled, Deku.”

Eraserhead was weakly struggling under the nomu’s iron grip around his head.

“Sensei!”

A dull roar was all the warning Izuku got before a thick wall of ice rose between them and Eraserhead and he dove sideways just in time to avoid being enveloped by it, a stray shard cracking his mask down the middle from the sheer speed of it, hot blood dripping down his face as the ruined half of the mask fell to the ground.

_______________

Tenko dove sideways to avoid a portal that would have taken his leg off, skidding to a halt just before the stairs in a crouch. He had no idea where the class had gone after Kurogiri had gone on the offense, swallowing up the kids faster than they could dodge. He had no idea that the man could even create that many portals at once…and he could only hope that the kids were still within the USJ.

But based on the threat of separating them and torturing them to death, Tenko could take a guess that this was a self-contained grudge match against All Might by the remnants of Sensei’s forces. They wanted to kill All Might and for reasons that Tenko had yet to grasp, they thought they could actually achieve that.

Speaking of which, where was All Might? Surely his time limit was not so greatly reduced that he’d worn himself out with random acts of heroism on the way…

Another portal opened on his right, and Tenko dove down the stairs, rolling fifteen feet or so down before flipping himself and slamming a palm to the ground, a chasm racing up the stairs as they crumbled beneath Decay.

If he could somehow destabilize the ground Kurogiri was standing on enough to immobilize him…but then what?

Tenko knew Kurogiri was solid under the mist, but he was also nearly impossible to hit when he was using his quirk. The only consistently solid part of him was the brace.

Wait.

A vague, half-remembered conversation about Kurogiri’s brace flashed through his head. Something…something about…yes, Midoriya Izuku, this brace allows me to channel Warp Gate more efficiently than I otherwise would be able to. It was a gift from your father. Shigaraki Tomura, I can see you clearly. Please refrain from any more sweets before dinner.

Izuku and his endless questions made the best backdrop for stealing sweets from the kitchen. He forced down another wave of rage and grief.

The brace. If he could take out the brace he might be able to gain the upper hand.

“I see Decay has developed significantly.” Kurogiri materialized in front of him, eyes glowing as Tenko dove forward, aiming for his brace as a second portal opened beneath his feet before he could reach him.

sh*t.

Suddenly he was free falling through the air from thirty feet above the ground, the stairs rushing up to meet him as he crashed painfully onto the ground, just barely managing to avoid breaking his ankle as he slammed into the landing before the next set of stairs, bones screaming from the impact, but thankfully intact.

He pushed himself to his knees, sparing a glance back toward where Eraserhead had sprinted earlier. He hoped Shota was fairing okay…he couldn’t see Shota. Piles of unconscious villains were slumped over near the center of the room that had somehow caught on fire…but no Eraserhead, just one of Shoto’s walls of ice (that was good, it meant Tenko was right and the kids were still in the building) and standing beside the wall—

Tenko’s breath caught in his throat, the ability to breath abandoning him as he focused on two figures on the near side of the wall.

One was unremarkable–tall, dark hair, wearing a long coat and turned away from him.

But the second…

A teenager with dark green hair, fluffed out in unruly curls around a mask that covered most of his face until he turned to say something to the first villain, gesturing at the wall, exposing the half of his face where the mask had been knocked free.

Freckles. Standing out against a pale face speckled with blood and wide, almost wild green eyes.

Bright green eyes peeking over the edge of his bed, hopeful and fearful. Tomura knew what he was about to ask. He wasn’t going to say no this time.

The boy looked like…he looked like what Tenko had imagined Izuku might be if he’d gotten the chance to grow up.

No. No this couldn’t be right.

He’d hit his head, because Izuku died eleven years ago.

Izuku was dead. That meant he couldn’t be standing in the USJ.

Tenko’s lungs were screaming, begging him to take in air before they gave out. He shook his head, blinking again, hoping to dispel the horrible image before him.

His eyes found their way to the bright, obnoxiously red shoes on the boy’s feet.

Th–these shoes are he–hero shoes, Tomura! Mama said so! Should we find you some too?

No.

No no no.

How was this possible? Izuku died. He was murdered and they never…they never found a body.

This wasn’t–this couldn’t be because that would mean–

He heard the soft hiss of one of Kurogiri’s portals opening behind him a split second before it appeared, and he whipped around in panic to face the villain only to see a large, disembodied greyish hand millimeters from him. Too close to stop its cold fingers from neatly slotting over his face.

“Why does it hurt? It won’t stop, Sensei! I can’t stop it!” His neck is bleeding, scratched raw. His hands are blistered, shaking with rage.

“The longer you deny your nature the worse it will become, Tomura. You have no person to blame but yourself, child. Yourself and the world that has forced you to this point.”

He couldn’t move. There were hands around his throat, digging into the soft, unprotected skin. It stung, sharp and painful, matching his bloody knuckles.

“Why did you let those men live? Did they not make you angry?”

He doesn’t know. He hates them. He’d almost done it but something held him back. The same way his mother had grabbed his arm to stop him from running into the street when he was young. Something had stopped him. And it infuriated him.

The air smelled of something rotten under the sharp smell of formaldehyde and sweet frankincense, something that should be long gone. It choked him, his stomach rolling as he gagged.

“I have a present for you. Let them help you channel that anger, Tomura. They will bring you peace. Carry them and they will remind you of what you are. What you were born to do.”

Mother’s hands were soft. She’d always stroked his hair while he fell asleep.

No.

Hana’s were so small. Even now they barely fit around his forearms, even then.

How had he forgotten how her small, cold hands felt on his clammy skin?

From somewhere close by there was a choked off scream. It sounded pained. Was that him?

Father’s hand covered his face, sending a spike of fear and rage through him. They were calloused and as rough in death as they were in life. He hated it. He hated them. He hated them.

He hated them.

He hated him!

No. No no no no no. He had to focus.

Shota…the kids…he needed to help–

Tenko’s feet left the ground as with bruising strength he was grabbed and roughly thrown, flying through the air, flashes of the world passing him through the cracks between Father’s fingers.

“I am not angry. This is all for you, Tomura. Family is important, right?”

Tenko smashed through something, agony erupting in his back, his shoulders, his leg, the back of his head…

Sensei’s hand settled on his head, just above where Father’s fingers dug into his scalp.

Then he knew no more.

__________________

“You’re Endeavor’s kid, aren’t you?” Shota tried to lift his head, struggling fruitlessly against the creature grinding him into the ground and the agony shooting through his body. He didn’t know what he would do once he got up, but he had to do something. Anything to distract these monsters from his students. He could just barely see Todoroki’s feet as he faced off against the villain and behind him in the pool…Tsuyu and Mineta.

“So what if I am?”

There was a brief pause and Shota hoped beyond hope that his students would back off. This was not a fight they could win. Not with two weeks of training before facing down villains in the very place they were supposed to be safest. They were children.

There was a snort from above his head.

“I can see the resemblance. Well, I don’t usually kill kids, but I’ll make an exception for you.”

Shota’s blood ran cold. He could feel another cut open on his face as with herculean effort he forced his head up just enough to fix his blood filled gaze on the villain’s back, a blurry Todoroki on the defensive passing in and out of focus, Tsuyu and Mineta were still frozen a few yards behind.

“You really are amazing, Eraserhead.” If Shota could have flinched back at the sudden voice from his other side he would have. How bad off was he that he hadn’t even realized someone else was standing there. This voice was much younger than the other, shaking slightly at the end of the sentence. But he did not dare take his leaden eyes off the first villain, who turned to glance back at Shota, a crazed glow in his eyes.

“Don’t you know it’s rude to stare? Nomu, keep him down.” The skull-fracturing pressure on the back of Shota’s head became unbearable as the creature smashed his forehead into the ground once again. He didn’t even have the breath to groan as he felt something in his neck crack.

He heard another of his students shout “Sensei!” No. They needed to run. Heroics was not always about winning. Sometimes it just wasn’t possible. Dead heroes would never save anyone again…but it hurt to know he was the one who would teach them this lesson. They were too young to see this. He didn’t want them to see this.

“Endeavor’s always trying to surpass All Might. So why don’t we see how his perfect creation fares against this nomu. It’s meant to kill him, after all, so let’s see if you’re ready to challenge All Might, Little Endeavor. Nomu. Kill him.”

He heard the sharp crackle of ice even as the pressure lifted from his back and head. But try as he might, Shota couldn’t move. He couldn’t even lift his head, the pain finally falling back to a dull, numb ache that felt oddly separate from him.

“Dabi. Deku.” A new voice, oddly familiar, yet chillingly foreign as dark tendrils of cloudy mist drifted past him with another set of legs.

It was getting harder and harder to string his thoughts together, his body had reached its limit. He had nothing left to give. There was nothing more he could do to keep this psychopath away from his kids. He’d always been prepared to die in his line of work. Especially in the underground…but he never thought he’d die a failure like this. Not with the blood of his students on his hands.

“Really, Kurogiri? I’m in the middle of something here.”

“Phoenix has been neutralized, but one of the students escaped.” Another sharp shot of horror ran through him. Please not Tenko too…but he said neutralized, not dead. Tenko couldn’t be dead. He couldn’t fail his nephew too.

“Who the hell is–you know what, nevermind. Is All Might going to show up or not?”

“Dabi we have to go. If one of the students got out then it’ll be a dozen pros and not just All Might. We don’t h–have the firepower for that.” The young voice was back, the quaver in its voice more evident now. But then again, a high pitched ringing was growing steadily louder in Shota’s ears, the ground beneath him nothing but a reddish-brown blur.

“This sucks. Ah well, why don’t we leave some motivation for him to show up on time next time? Think it’ll be enough with just the dead Todoroki brat?”

No. No not his kids…he had to move…he had to think…

“E–eraserhead won’t survive another t–ten minutes.” The young voice sounded thick to Shota’s fading consciousness. Like it was grasping at anything to stay calm… “A dead pro is a message…killing first year hero students without killing All Might won’t send the right message. It’ll j–just look like slaughter. And we won’t be s–sending any message from a jail cell.”

Shota realized dully he couldn’t see anymore, his vision dark, even the numbness of his limbs leaving him as his weak hold on consciousness finally slipped from his grasp.

I’m sorry Hizashi.

____________________

Izuku could feel the tears he had been holding back begin to leak out of his eyes when Eraserhead went limp on the ground in front of him, blood slowly leaking out from his head, his sides, his…his mangled arms.

Izuku did this.

Dabi shoved his hands in his pockets, casually stepping over the fallen hero, the bright yellow goggles lying next to Eraserhead cracking under the heel of his boot.

Shoto Todoroki was still locked in a desperate battle with the nomu, but it was more a game of keep away than a real fight, the hero student’s moves becoming choppier and more desperate as he yanked one of his friends, the frog girl, out of the way.

They looked frightened. They were just kids. They were scared.

Izuku’s eyes fell back to Eraserhead.

I’m scared.

“Dabi, we have to go before the rest of the heroes get here.”

Dabi blew out a long suffering sigh. “Yeah, yeah, I know. Oh well, I’ll kill the runt myself later. Nomu! Time to leave.”

The nomu paused mid-fling to drop Todoroki unceremoniously into the lake before loping over to join them, following to where Kurogiri was opening a portal.

“I am here!”

Izuku froze for a second, his heart pounding as he whipped around just in time for the ground to shake with the impact of All Might himself hitting the ground where they had left Eraserhead, teeth bared in a savage grin.

For a second he was four years old again, fear and hope battling inside him, thinking that the nightmare might finally be over. Confusion, revulsion, and a star-struck admiration he’d never quite been able to smother all battled for dominance inside his too tight chest.

All Might had come. Just like he had all those years ago. And behind him Izuku saw a crowd of pro heroes racing through the doorway.

Beside him Dabi laughed. “Well, better late than never. Let’s get out of here.” He grabbed Izuku by the back of the collar, dragging him a couple steps. “Oh, right. Nomu, kill All Might. Kurogiri, let’s go. C’mon, move it, Deku.”

The nomu left their side, charging All Might like a titan, and the ground shook as the hero caught its fist head on, not even flinching.

Izuku finally found his legs, following Dabi toward Kurogiri’s portal as a painfully familiar shout echoed through the air. “Get back here you bastards!”

Kacchan was blasting his way down the steps, closing in on them fast. A jolt of panic went through Izuku. They couldn’t afford to get stalled now. Not with the pros so close. But Kacchan would reach them before the heroes and he was even more powerful than Izuku remembered. They wouldn’t be able to walk away before they were overwhelmed by the pursuing heroes.

But even as he sprinted for the portal where Dabi was tapping his foot impatiently, he knew it wouldn’t be enough. There had to be some way, a second was all they needed–

Izuku reached up, not letting himself stop long enough to think about the repercussions of what he was about to do. Either way, he would never be free again.

The last half of the mask came free easily and he tossed it aside, turning to face Kacchan head on, bearing his lips in a painful parody of the smile he used to practice in front of the mirror, just like All Might.

Kacchan’s eyes blew wide, his explosions faltering for a second as he tripped, the redheaded boy with a hardening quirk crashing into his back, sending them both tumbling. For a second he looked horribly, painfully frightened. It was enough.

Izuku backed into the portal just as agony sprouted on the right side of his ribcage, like someone had punched a hole straight through him, and he fell backwards the rest of the way through the portal and into blissful darkness.

______________

Hizashi forgot to turn off the alarm again, its incessant beeping worming its way through Shota’s skull, drumming an extremely irritating beat that was impossible to ignore.

He tried to reach out and slap it to snooze, but his arms felt like lead. He couldn’t even open his eyes…and Todoroki was going to die because of him.

The beeping of the alarm increased in fervor with Shota’s heart as a lightning bolt of panic went through him and he struggled vainly to force his body into gear. Where were his kids?

“Shota? Shota…shota breathe. Breathe, babe just breathe. You’re safe.” Hizashi’s voice broke through the panic building in him, his mind still hazy and confused, but if Hizashi was here then it was okay, right?

He could feel his husband’s calloused hands gently stroking through his hair and he tuned back into the soft babble his husband had kept up the whole time he’d been panicking. “...say they can take off the compresses tomorrow, so you’ll be able to see then.”

Shota’s throat felt raw as overwhelming grief brought painful tears to his eyes. He was glad the blindfold was hiding his eyes. He didn’t have the strength to explain to Hizashi how badly…he’d…he’d fail–

He was gone before he could even finish the thought.

When Shota woke next, his head was much clearer, and as soon as the nurse who carefully unwound the bandages around his head left he steeled his will and focused his somewhat blurry vision on Hizashi.

“How many?”

Hizashi stared at him for a long moment before seeming to piece together what he was asking and rushing to answer. “They’re all alive. None of the kids had to do hospital time.”

Phoenix has been neutralized.

His mouth was suddenly dry again. “Tenko? Where is he?”

Hizashi’s face fell, and Shota’s heart dropped into his stomach. No.

“He’s…he’s alive, Sho. I haven’t gotten a chance to talk to him yet. He woke up last night not long after you did but he’s…the listener is pretty beat up. You both…” Hizashi swallowed heavily. “We were worried about you both. Yagi-san is with him.”

Shota’s heart twinged as he reached out a hand to squeeze his husband even as his heart decided it was going to live in his throat from now on.

“I want to see him.”

Hizashi sniffed, looking flatly back at him. “You just woke up, Sho, you aren’t going anywhere.”

Neutralized.

“Hizashi…please.” Shota blamed the painkillers for the way his voice cracked. He needed to see the kid with his own eyes. He needed some proof…

Hizashi’s eyes softened, a look of understanding passing over his face. “Fine. Only if you use the wheelchair.”

Fifteen painful minutes later, Shota was carefully settled in a wheelchair, mentally thanking every available higher power that Recovery Girl existed even if he was so exhausted he might as well have run three marathons in a row.

Three doors down in the hero ward Hizashi stopped in front of a door, giving a light knock before opening it.

Yagi looked up from the small table he sat at, grim expression morphing into an uncharacteristically small smile as he saw Shota and Hizashi.

Surprisingly enough, Detective Tsukauchi was taking notes on the other side of the table, a worried furrow between his brow.

And in the hospital bed in the center of the room…Tenko looked as bad as Shota felt. The kid was swathed in bandages, bright red gashes peeking out from under bandages on his neck, the right side of his face purple with bruises, one eye swollen shut. He was propped up with pillows and Shota could see stitches starting at the nape of his neck and disappearing into his hairline. He couldn’t tell what else was injured under the blankets, but he could see the bulky shape of what looked like a brace on one ankle.

Tenko himself did not look up when the door opened. In all honesty judging by the amount of bags hanging off his IV lines, Shota would place a high bet on the fact that the kid was not all there at the moment. But no…no his eyes didn’t hold the glazed expression Shota associated with the high quality painkillers the hospital used. This was different. The kid was staring at his hands, eyes unseeing, expression hollow.

He looked horribly, painfully young in the hospital gown, and even more lost.

Shota frowned, his worry growing with every second. If everyone was alive, then what had happened to his nephew at the USJ?

Tsukauchi snapped his notebook shut, letting out a long breath. He looked exhausted. Tenko looked up slowly, as if he were coming out of a dream, tearing his eyes away from his hands as the detective spoke. Shota did not think he’d ever seen the kid this cowed, and in all honesty, a small seed of fear was growing inside him, intuition telling him that something else he didn’t understand was at play here.

“Aizawa. Good to see you’re awake…I hate to jump straight to business, but given recent events I don’t think we have a choice.” His eyes slid back over to Tenko briefly before flitting over Yagi, who nodded, looking even grimmer than before, then finally landing back on Shota and Hizashi. “We have a problem.”

Chapter 9: Chapter 9

Chapter Text

Consciousness, if that’s what it could be called, returned to Izuku with a prickly numbness running all over his body as his mind floated helplessly on a sea of confusion.

“Your contingency plan proved to be an effective counter against Shigaraki Tomura.”

Tomura? Tomura was gone, though. He left Izuku alone with the monster that was his father because All Might took him. He never came back, either. Probably because All Might told him what Izuku really was.

“Yes, I thought bringing along insurance might prove worth our time.”

Izuku wondered when his body was replaced with this prison, because it would not move despite his best efforts. Where was he? Would Mom come sit by him like she always did when he was sick? He thinks she might have sung to him when he was little, too. But it’s so hard to remember those days now. Maybe he’d always been here and Mom was the made up part.

“If I might ask a question…why did we never retrieve the boy?”

“Some pawns must be sacrificed for the greater good, Kurogiri. I deemed it not worth the risk of putting All Might’s dogs back on our scent. Most of his worth was negated once All Might discovered him anyway. As a hero, the only use Tomura retains is to follow in his grandmother’s footsteps–then again, perhaps he will surprise me. I’m willing to find out.”

Tomura’s name….that was Tomura’s name again…but a hero? Tomura was a hero? If that was true then why hadn’t he…why didn’t he ever come back for Izuku? Did he forget about him? Heroes were supposed to save people, but then again, Izuku wasn’t a person to most of the world. And a villain to the rest now. Which was worse? Why hadn’t All Might…Tomura…why wasn’t Izuku worth saving? His thoughts were jumbled and disjointed, somehow moving too fast and too slow for him to keep up.

If he could only…if he could just move. He twitched.

For just a second Izuku was violently thrust back in his own skin, and it burned, throbbing and aching around a knot of agony in his side that stole his breath. He wanted to scream, but all that happened was his brow scrunching together, a soft, barely audible whimper slipping past his lips.

Suddenly, there was a hand in his hair. It was larger than Mom’s, but softer than Dad’s, somehow cool against his hot scalp and brow. Ever so slowly Izuku felt himself slip away from the pain washing over him, back into the staticky sea of thought and sound, away from himself. He wished he could open his eyes and see who was beside him. The hand paused on his forehead.

“You are not going to heal him?”

“Actions have consequences, Kurogiri. And this mission was a failure on all fronts. I do not reward failure. I won’t punish them, but it’s important he learns to be more careful with the purpose of his missions in the future. This recovery will provide ample time for self-reflection. Alert me if there are complications.”

Footsteps and the sharp snap of a door, but the hand resumed its gentle path through Izuku’s hair, gently untangling the matted curls. He could feel his thoughts flickering out like an old lightbulb, little left except for the strange sea of blackness and the soft sensation of the hand in his hair. He wanted to cry. The thought was oddly clear. He wanted to cry. But he was too tired to think of why.

The hand left his hair, disappearing for a moment before a finger brushed over each of his cheeks like it was wiping something away.

Oh.

______________________

“I don’t…I don’t know where to start.” Shota bit back a grimace at the hollowness of Tenko’s tone, how he already seemed leagues away from them despite just starting the interview. Across from him, Yagi’s fist clenched and then unclenched just as quickly. He reached out to place a hand next to Tenko, just close enough to offer the support, only for the corners of his mouth to turn down sadly when Tenko pulled a gloved hand away like he was afraid of burning the older man.

It was bad if Tenko was afraid to touch anyone. He’d watched Tenko fight to overcome the fear of his own quirk and work harder than anyone else in his class during his time at U.A., honing Decay to an incredibly powerful tool that he wielded with precision. Shota hadn’t seen the kid flinch away from touch since he was in elementary school.

“Sho?” Shota blinked, abruptly realizing he was staring at the paused CCTV footage from the USJ without seeing it. Hizashi was leaning over him, wearing a look of concern and his fuzzy purple bathrobe.

“I’m okay. I was just thinking about Tenko.” Hizashi sighed softly, nodding.

“I’m worried about him too…this is…nobody could have predicted it.” Shota nodded, absently scratching a bandage under his eye. He’d been released from the hospital the day before, with strict instructions (threats) to rest. The only reason he was even this far along was Recovery Girl–Tenko was still in the hospital and while it had its own staff with healing quirks to speed the process along, he wasn’t set to be released for at least another week.

Hizashi leaned over Shota’s shoulder to look at the paused frame. A teenager in a fox mask stepping out of a portal, followed by a heavily scarred man in a black trenchcoat.

“What do you think of the kid?”

“So currently the only previously known villain is Kurogiri, who was last seen eleven years ago when All Might led the Tokyo raids and rescued Tenko.” Tsukauchi set his pen down. “However, judging from security footage he isn’t the one in charge, that would fall to the two commanding the…the creature that attacked you, Aizawa. But there are no records of them, and we don’t know–”

“Izuku.” Yagi drew in a sharp breath as Tenko’s murmur cut over Tsukauchi. Aizawa looked back to find Tenko fidgeting absently with his wrists, three fingers grasping one before switching to the other, again and again. His eyes were glassy as he looked at Yagi. “The teenager’s name is Izuku he was…i–is–” his voice cracked. Shota had never heard the name before, but the shattered quality of Tenko’s speech opened a wide, yawning pit of worry in his stomach. Tenko took a shaky breath before letting it out of his nose.“my little brother. He’s alive and that means he’s been…he’s…”

Tenko abruptly vomited over the side of his bed. Yagi lept to support him, gently wrapping an arm around his chest, mindful of the bandages and casts as the younger man gasped painfully for air, tears leaking down his face from too wide eyes. Shota didn’t think they were just from the pain of his injuries.

Shota sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose. “I don’t know. Tenko seems to think he might not necessarily be acting of his own free will…but look at this.” He reluctantly pressed play on the video.

The kid stood still for a second, face hidden behind the mask as the taller man, really barely older than Tenko though it was hard to tell under the scarring, watched Shota fight from thirty or so feet away. He took a step forward, but the teenager made an aborted motion, like he was going to grab the other’s arm before jerking a thumb toward Shota just as he erased the quirk of one villain and ducked under the other before blinking and letting the first villain injure the second. The scarred man froze before grinning widely and charging in.

Shota paused it. He didn’t want Hizashi to watch what was coming next. Hizashi looked between Shota and the video.

“Gonna be honest Sho, I’m not sure what I’m looking at here.” That was fair. Hizashi hadn’t been there nor had he watched this footage seven times already like he had been doing all day. Shota knew he was supposed to rest, but someone had tried to murder his kids. He had to do something.

“The villain with the flames knew exactly when to attack. He knew my hair was a tell, but I think the teenager–Izuku–I think he told him.” He played the clip again, and this time Hizashi let out a small gasp, seeing what Shota had been replaying for the past thirty minutes. “There’s more. I watched some of the later footage…that thing that got me. It didn’t move until the kid sent it in, and, well…” he hesitated a second, but Hizashi hated it when he minced words. He said it freaked him out when Shota wasn’t his usual blunt self. “The only reason that thing didn’t immediately kill me was because the flame villain told it to stop. It was about to crush my head.”

Hizashi paled, his hand tightening to a white knuckled grip around his mug of tea, his other hand squeezing Shota’s shoulder.

“Got it.”

“I don’t know his last name…I don’t even know if he had one. Sensei—damn it–the villain, said he was his son. But he also lied a lot, so that could have been false.” Tenko was staring at his hands again, if anything he looked worse than the day before, covered in blossoming bruises of all colors. He didn’t notice Yagi and Tsukauchi exchange an alarmed glance. So that tidbit was new to them too. “And because of that we were brothers. I just called him Izuku. Sorry.”

Shota’s heart twisted painfully in his chest. It was f*cked up. There was no other way to put it. A long dead baby brother brainwashed into villany.

“One of the other villains called him Deku,” Shota added quietly.

Tsukauchi nodded at Shota, jotting the name down and standing.

“Thank you, Eraser. That’ll be enough for now, Tenko. I’ll come back later this week.” The detective hesitated a second before adding quietly, “You saved a lot of kids this week, Tenko. Kurogiri would have killed them without you.” Tenko nodded numbly, not looking up. Tsukauchi watched him for another second before heading for the door. “I’m going to interview the students. I’ll keep you updated, Eraser, Mic, All Might.”

The door snapped shut and Tenko jumped, looking up between the three remaining heroes like he was searching for someone to save him.

“Izuku loves heroes.” His words were the clearest Shota had heard since the kid woke up, sharp and desperate. “This can’t be his idea…he worships All Might, he wouldn’t try to kill him or any other hero. I don’t…they must have forced him there. We have to–to save him!” He broke off, gritting his teeth in obvious pain from his outburst. Yagi stood to prop another pillow under him, meeting Shota’s eyes as he did, swirling sadness painfully obvious.

Shota leaned back into Hizashi, resting his head against the other’s stomach. With Tenko weak and nearly begging them to save his little brother, Shota hadn’t been able to contradict the kid. Not while he was in such a vulnerable state. Shota was not going to make him face that yet, even as more and more evidence gathered to suggest that Izuku was at least partially in charge of the attack against U.A. and his students.

If Izuku had presumably spent almost the entirety of his childhood twisted by villains…Shota wasn’t sure if he was an innocent victim in all of this. A victim, for sure. A tragedy, even. However, innocent? The kid had aided an attack on Shota’s students and damn well nearly killed Shota himself. He wasn’t sure if innocent was how he would describe Izuku despite Tenko’s insistence.

“They aren’t allowing Tenko onto the investigation. He’s too emotionally compromised.” Hizashi nodded sadly.

“That’s probably for the best. I can’t blame the listener for not wanting his little brother to have been turned into a villain. And if it came to it…I think he could get hurt if he tried to bring Izuku in because all he sees is his brother. We don’t know what kind of quirk Izuku has or even what his motivations are. I know the attack was a grudge against All Might…but they psychologically tortured Tenko too, Sho.” Hizashi looked pained. Shota felt faintly sick at the reminder. Tenko did not often talk about his time as a villain’s ward, and learning that particular detail, as well as how it had been weaponized against his nephew, filled Shota with helpless rage.

Hizashi continued more quietly, going back to staring at the paused screen. “The attack with his father’s hand was too targeted to be a coincidence. It feels personal.”

Shota’s heart sank as his husband confirmed what he had begun to suspect. Hizashi’s logic was sound, and for the first time in his life Shota wished it was not so he could convince the two of them otherwise.

Because the facts were lining up to indicate that his nephew was in for far more pain, and Shota wished more than anything he could do something to remedy that.

“Yeah, that’s what I’m afraid of.”

Hizashi gave him a gentle tug.

“It’s late, you should come to bed.”

“I’ll be there in a few minutes. I can’t sleep yet.” Shota barely felt Hizashi give him a faint squeeze before disappearing back into their bedroom. He was grateful his husband hadn’t argued, probably reading the quiet grief in Shota’s shoulders.

He skipped forward to where Todoroki knocked the kid’s mask half off, revealing a face that was far too young to be committing atrocities. It was somewhat difficult to see through the smoke blowing past the camera, but he could make out a bright green eye and freckles on a round, babyish face.

Izuku looked like one of Shota’s students.

We have to save him…we…we have to! You don’t get it! He doesn’t…he wanted to be a hero.

It really wasn’t fair.

______________________

Izuku sucked idly on his jelly pouch. Peach, his favorite. Kurogiri had even put it in the refrigerator because he knew Izuku liked them cold.

In front of him, youtube was open on his laptop, an analysis of the number three hero Hawks paused. It was interesting, and Izuku would have usually filled his notebook with several pages of discourse surrounding the video by this point. Hawks’ quirk was fascinating. But Hero Analysis No. 32 lay to the side, precariously balanced on his blankets, the auxiliary pages on Hawks no thicker than they had been seventeen minutes ago when he started the video.

It was interesting. It was.

And it was good to keep his mind busy.

His hands itched to move, but he kept them wrapped safely around his jelly pouch.

Safe where he could go back to watching Hawks take down a minor villain and definitely not think about the fact that he had killed Eraserhead and Sensei said Tomura was a hero.

Crap. Izuku pressed play and Hawks dove across the screen.

He didn’t remember most of the first week after the USJ attack. He couldn’t even clearly recall the very conversation that refused to leave his head.

As a hero, the only use Tomura retains is to follow in his grandmother’s footsteps.

As a hero.

A hero.

Tomura was a hero.

He paused the video again, Hawks’ face ridiculously stretched out from the frame and speed he was traveling.

Izuku had begged his father to find Tomura in the immediate aftermath of All Might’s attack. Or really, now that he was older, Izuku knew it had been a rescue or a raid, but it still felt like an attack in his memories. But Sensei had just knelt down, gripping his shoulders a little too tightly to be called fatherly, and told him that Tomura would not be coming back and that Izuku was not to speak of it anymore.

He had only just been learning the difference between Sensei and Dad, but even then he knew better, was afraid enough of both, than to push the issue.

Now Tomura was a hero.

And Izuku was a murderer. Cracked yellow goggles.

His fingers rested lightly on the keyboard, each point of contact too warm. Too dangerous.

Because realistically speaking, he had no way to find Tomura. Tomura wasn’t even Tomura’s name. It had been so long that, try as he might, Izuku could not remember what the other boy had been called before Tomura. He had been strictly forbidden from speaking it after Sensei had renamed him. He’d learned that the hard way.

Did Tomura even remember him? Izuku had loved Tomura like a brother, and he’d hoped the other boy felt at least a little similarly, but then again it could just be his wishful thinking kicking in again to protect him. He was, after all, still in the compound so the only explanation was that he had been left here for one reason or another because Tomura had not sent the heroes to rescue him. The heroes must have stopped looking after All Might saved Tomura. He wasn’t sure which idea upset him more: being forgotten, or not being worth saving.

Izuku didn’t know Tomura’s hero name. He couldn’t remember his real name.

But he was at the USJ. Protecting the people Izuku came to hurt. Which meant…

Almost against his will, he opened a new tab and searched for the USJ. Unsurprisingly a whole host of headlines flashed up instantly.

Breaking: U.A.’s USJ Under Villain Attack!

All Might Defeats Terrifying New Villains!

Izuku already knew that All Might was still alive, and he prayed the traitorous relief that filled him was invisible to Kurogiri. It had been Kurogiri that informed him that he was to heal naturally so he could have time to reflect on his failure to help the nomu kill All Might and bring back Eraserhead.

Sensei had not come to see him, bringing tears of both relief and shame to his eyes. Relief because he was terrified Sensei would take one look at him and know that killing Eraserhead had been an act of rebellion. Relief that he could mourn the fact that he’d murdered the last hero he’d hoped would someday find him in peace. But hot shame because as much as he hated it, a large part of Izuku still craved his father’s approval so his lack of presence stung.

But back to the task at hand. Because if Izuku lost his nerve now he didn’t think he was going to get it back.

Pro Hero Injured in USJ Attack!

He clicked on the article, swallowing hard as the cover image popped in front of him. A massive group of ambulances and other emergency vehicles alongside swarms of pro heroes and policemen, loading scores of villains into vans or in some cases armored ambulances. All Might stood in front of one, obscuring the person inside. He was still wearing his signature grin, but Izuku could see dents in the top of the ambulance where the hero’s fingers were gripping the metal.

He scrolled down, heart already speeding up. But he deserved to see this. And he had to know if what Sensei said about Tomura was true.

In a shocking incident, we have received reports that villains attacked the Unforeseen Simulation Joint at U.A. High School. While details are scarce due to the ongoing investigation, Mustafu Evening news has been informed that while student injuries were minor, a visiting pro hero, Phoenix, alongside Class 1-A’s homeroom teacher Aizawa Shota, were gravely injured and rushed to Mustafu Trauma Hospital this evening. Their current condition is unknown, but a source tells us that it is uncertain if both of them will survive given the severity of their injuries.

Izuku stared at the screen for a moment, the screen swimming before him. So Eraserhead hadn’t died on the floor of the USJ. Part of him was relieved, that maybe his hero had the chance to die surrounded by his family rather than alone. But that meant there was a chance…

He skimmed down as the article devolved into wild speculation around the motivations behind the attack and the potential for another and how U.A. should have taken greater measures to protect its students. Which really was a little stupid because they couldn’t take measures to protect themselves against a threat like Kurogiri if they weren’t aware of it because even in his extensive research of quirks he’d never seen anything like Warp Gate, but then again Izuku supposed he should be grateful for that, not internally defending U.A.’s security protocols from predatory reporting.

Edit: Mustafu Trauma Hospital has put out a statement that it expects both pro hero Phoenix and Class 1-A Homeroom Teacher Aizawa Shota to make full recoveries and asks that the public respect their privacy during recovery. The Chief of Police has also issued a statement thanking the two for their service and claiming that many young lives would have been lost without their actions.

A…a full recovery? Izuku stared at the screen in shock. Kurogiri hadn’t told him Eraserhead (whose name was apparently Aizawa Shota) was alive. He’d…he’d assumed the other hero was dead but he’d been too afraid to ask.

It felt like he was drowning, a wave of despair crashing over him as he read the words over and over again.

So this mission really had been a total failure because Izuku was such a Deku that he couldn’t even finish his own goals. He’d almost done it for a split second. Told the Nomu to make sure Eraserhead was dead before they left but he couldn’t do it. He’d gambled that the pros wouldn’t arrive in time to save the underground hero and he’d lost. All because he didn’t have the backbone to finish what he’d started. Because he’d been scared.

Typical Deku.

Eraserhead was alive. And maybe Izuku had bought him more time, but it was borrowed. It was borrowed and Izuku would not get a better chance to stop the horrors in store for his hero before they began.

Even so, a tiny spark of relief flickered in the back of his head. That he wasn’t a murderer yet. It was terrible. It was terrible. It was selfish. But Izuku could feel tears gathering in his eyes. He was happy Eraserhead was alive.

He knew…he knew if he was serious about keeping the underground hero from Sensei’s clutches he would need to think of a new plan. He refused to become a villain for nothing. But he couldn’t sit up straight right now, much less stand. Or stay awake for more than three hours at a time. So maybe just for a little bit, he would let himself pretend it would be alright, because Eraserhead was still alive and still able to save people who had no hope. He would find a new plan. He would. If there was anything Izuku was good at, it was adapting when his world was pulled out from under him and plan A failed. He was his father’s son, after all.

But he didn’t want to think about that right now. It was childish, he knew. But his side ached, sending jolts of pain across his body when he moved and sometimes even when he didn’t. Izuku thought maybe he was allowed to be a little childish since he’d literally gotten shot. By Snipe.

Which really was kind of cool now that he considered it, and a small part of Izuku wanted to ask Kurogiri if they’d kept the bullet that hit his ribs because he really wanted to know what Snipe made his bullets out of because he knew they were custom made…but then again he might also throw up if he saw that right now so maybe he’d ask later.

His eyes fell back to the article.

Pro hero Phoenix.

He opened a separate tab, fingers shaking a little as he typed in the name. There had been only one wildcard at the USJ and it had been the unknown hero he’d heard Kurogiri mention–Phoenix. And then Sensei had mentioned that Tomura was a hero when he thought Izuku was unconscious. This had to be it.

He clicked on the first link that came up–a staff page for Thirteen’s agency.

Sidekicks

Shimura Tenko: Pro Hero Phoenix

Quirk: Decay

Specialties: Disaster rescues and clean ups, essential team operations.

Biography: Phoenix attended U.A. High School’s heroics program, specializing in disaster rescues in his third year as well as essential team operations, a branch which primarily supports underground operations when the need arises. He is best known for his work as one of Pro Hero Thirteen’s sidekicks, and while relatively new to the heroics world, is making a name for himself for both his incredibly versatile quirk and rescue metrics. He is currently 174th on the Heroics Rankings Chart.

Oh. That was Tomura’s name. Tenko. How could Izuku have forgotten that? It had been Tenko, when Sensei had first brought Izuku to the compound from the police station. It hadn’t been Tomura for another two months.

It was true. Tomura–no, Tenko–was a hero. A hero who specialized in disaster rescues.

“T-Tenko! You would be such an amazing hero with Decay, I bet you could get into places with ea–earthquakes and save s–so many people! Wow! I hope–”

“Shut up, shrimp! And don’t ever call me a hero again!”

Izuku was right. It looked like Tenko was an amazing rescue hero, if making the top two hundred within two years of graduating U.A. was anything to go by. He felt the tears gathering in his eyes begin to drip down his face. It was good that All Might rescued Tomura, really, it was. Look what he had become. He was everything Izuku believed he could be and more.

And Izuku…Izuku was so jealous. That someone had found Tomura and helped him before Sensei could turn him into a monster to match Izuku. A…a successor and a lieutenant. That’s what he had wanted. And Tomura–Tenko–had escaped. And he’d been given the chance to be everything that Izuku had ever wanted to be, and left him behind to be forgotten.

It hurt. It hurt so badly. But Izuku still couldn’t find it in himself to hate Tomura the way he was sure Sensei would have wanted. See, Izuku, see how they forget about you just as society always does? He would probably say that. And he was right. But Izuku didn’t want to hate Tomura in the same way he didn’t want to hate Eraserhead.

He…if he couldn’t be saved, if he was doomed to a life of horror and villainy, at the very least Tomura was living for them both. Even if he had forgotten Izuku, at least that meant he was happy. That maybe he’d forgotten Sensei and the compound and everything they’d seen here far too young. He deserved that. He was not born into it the same way Izuku was entangled.

Izuku could stand to be forgotten, if that’s what it had taken to give Tomura that chance.

He clicked on the biography’s picture with shaking hands. A full body picture of a young man sitting on a brick wall came into view. He had a shock of wavy, short white hair and he was smiling. It was small, his lips quirked up more on one side than the other, but he was smiling. Tomura didn’t smile. He wore a hero’s costume with silver-tipped archery gloves, a black compression shirt and black cargo pants tied at the ankles, silver flames licking up over…Izuku’s breath caught in his throat.

Red boots.

Bright, vibrant red boots that stood out brilliantly against the otherwise muted color scheme of the hero costume.

“A–are you sure you don’t want them too! Th–they’re hero shoes and they’re so cool! Kurogiri could take us to the mall and I can help you find them and then we can match and we’d be a hero team, T–Tomura! Please!”

“No! I told you heroes aren’t real.”

“But we could pretend, Tomura, it would be so fun, please!”

“I said no! Besides, they look stupid!”

“Boys, please refrain from shouting at the table. Shigaraki Tomura, eat your peas. Midoriya Izuku, if your goal is to be a hero, you need to drink your milk.”

Pro Hero Phoenix was wearing bright red combat boots that did not remotely match the rest of his costume. Shimura Tenko. Shigaraki Tomura. Izuku’s brother…Izuku’s brother hadn’t forgotten him.

How was it that he could be so filled with joy and grief at the same time? Tomura was a hero, and he had not come back and Izuku didn’t know why. But he was wearing red shoes he’d hated and Izuku loved. Red shoes that matched the high tops by Izuku’s door.

Maybe Tomura hadn’t come back…but he remembered.

Izuku drew his knees up to his chest, a choked cry slipping out of his trembling lips before he gave in, buried his face in his knees, and let himself sob freely.

______________________

Tenko heard the door to his hospital room open, disturbing his unsuccessful nap turned brooding session. Fuyumi wasn’t coming to visit until she was off of work. Toshinori was with Tsukauchi at the precinct. Yamada was probably sitting on Aizawa to keep him from going out and hunting Kurogiri and the others himself so they were both busy. Which left exactly one person who had both the credentials to get into his hospital room and the gall to bother him now.

He kept his eyes closed, hoping that it could delay the inevitable.

Lazy footsteps made their way across the room before coming to a halt somewhere near Tenko’s head.

A feather tickled his nose and he scowled darkly, stubbornly refusing to open his eyes and see the overgrown chicken who was undoubtedly wearing his second most infuriating grin. Tenko really wasn’t in the mood. The amount of painkillers they had him on was enough to make his head swim, but not quite enough to completely void the pain, which was saying something.

“Did the Commission send you to make sure I’m not about to go postal?”

A low whistle. “Damn. You really are in a bad mood.” A weight settled onto the end of his bed with the quiet rustle of feathers before the airy voice continued. “Unfortunately, you were asleep when I stopped by, so I guess I’ll just have to evaluate your threat level later.”

Tenko cracked an eye open to see Hawks finish a careless shrug, pocketing a phone and casually bringing a knee up to rest his chin, staring at Tenko without blinking, his other leg swinging off the bed.

“There he is!”

“What do you want, Hawks?” Tenko wished his voice sounded a little less raw, because it sounded a lot less like he was about to throw Hawks out of the window and more like he might start crying at any given moment.

Judging by the look that flashed across Hawks’ face before the easy grin took over again, the other hero heard it too. Tenko wanted to close his eyes again, but he settled for pushing himself up a little against his pillows, which was difficult with one working arm. His left shoulder blade had shattered along with the two more bones in the same arm when Kurogiri had thrown him through the brick wall that bordered the urban sector of the USJ. He winced as the stitches running from the base of his neck in a jagged line to behind his right ear pulled at the motion.

“I read the wanted bulletins that went out…and the Commission's files noted one of the villains was the one that All Might rescued you from when you were a kid. The guy with the warping quirk.”

Tenko swallowed, looking up at the ceiling for a moment, feigning a casualness he didn’t feel.

“Yeah. Yeah, that’s the one. His name is Kurogiri. No, I don’t know if that’s his real name. I was eight the last time I saw him.” He looked back down to find Hawks still staring at him–he wasn’t trying to hide the unblinking, intense raptor stare he got when he wasn’t actively trying to appear as the public’s favorite darling dumbass. Or when he was going on thirty six hours without sleep. Or drunk. Or totally zoned out. Tenko had seen all of these in various combinations.

He didn’t really mind it–they’d been thrown together in high school during an “exchange” he was completely certain had been arranged by the Hero Commission to keep an eye on him because they’d never gotten over the slight of not being granted custody of him as a kid. He had hated everything about the other boy the second they’d met, down to each individual red feather and his obnoxious friendliness, the way his laugh never quite reached his eyes.

So, with all of his remarkably refined high school diplomatic skills, Tenko had told Hawks exactly what he could shove up his Commission-sanctioned spying ass, and after staring at him slack-jawed for a solid fifteen seconds, Hawks had laughed so hard that he started to cry, and they’d been friends ever since.

They might think you’re a threat, but I like you, Tenko. I’ve gotta stick around either way so they think I’m keeping an eye on you, so why don’t we be friends for real?

In hindsight, Tenko was thankful that Hawks was a much less accomplished liar then, or he doubted they would be here today.

He’d disliked the Hero Commission when he was a kid as a matter of principle seeing as Toshinori was still learning to keep his voice down when he’d first brought Tenko home, so he’d overheard more conversations between Toshinori and Detective Tsukauchi surrounding the issue than he would ever admit. But after being stuck with Hawks for the last five years and learning to read between the lines of his friend’s flippant comments, or listening to the rare times Hawks was shaken up enough to actually talk about his work out of the limelight, Tenko had grown to despise it.

From what he could tell, the Commission hadn’t sent Hawks to do anything outright villainous, but the way they treated him like some kind of tool rubbed Tenko the wrong way.

And on top of–

“Hellooo…” A hand was waving in front of his face, and Tenko abruptly snapped out of his thoughts to instinctually bite at the finger that was about to tap his nose. Hawks pulled it back with a snort. They both knew from experience it wasn’t an idle threat. “Back with me?”

Tenko let out a quiet groan, his ribs throbbing with the sound despite the insane amount of drugs coursing through his system. “Sorry, they have me on the good stuff now that I’m conscious, and I have a concussion. It’s hard to focus.”

Hawks nodded easily, looking unbothered. “Yeah you had that glazed Shimura-is-on-the-moon look. But seriously, are you okay?”

Tenko sighed softly. He was absolutely not okay. Not when Izuku was alive and still in the clutches of Sensei’s men. He could only be grateful that All Might killed Sensei, but some of the people he’d seen in the compound had been almost as bad. The mad doctor, for example. Please not him. Not with Izuku. “I…no. No, I’m not. But I will be. It’s just…I think it’s time for me to put my money where my mouth is with heroics.”

Hawks considered him for a moment, clearly debating whether or not to push the matter or call Tenko on his wishy-washy answer. Finally he stood, brushing off imaginary lint.

“Okay, then. Well, if you need help, let me know.” He rapped his own head with a grin. “Good eyesight and all that.”

Tenko nodded, smiling faintly at the offer.

“That eyesight sent you into a window last month.”

Hawks scowled. “That window was reflective, there was no way for me to tell it was there.”

“Keep telling yourself that, bird boy.”

“Rude. I’m going to drown myself in delicious fried chicken for that comment.”

“Die mad, cannibal.” Tenko didn’t bite back another smile as Hawks squawked indignantly at the comment, huffing to the door of Tenko’s room in a puff of red feathers.

“I was going to offer to smuggle you some, but if my services are so maligned–” Tenko rolled his eyes, wincing slightly as held back a chuckle. That would not do his ribs any good.

“Oh please, great chicken god, bless me with crispy goodness since I am not a bird and will not be smote–smited–ah whatever–for eating your children.”

Hawks pinned him with a glare. “I could be convinced to be merciful if you’ll go to the gala Miruko bailed on with me next month.”

Tenko snorted. To be honest he would have agreed to anything to eat something that wasn’t jellied. “Deal.”

Hawks saluted, opening the door and sweeping away. “Check your window sill in an hour. It should be between nurse rotations.”

Tenko settled back into his pillows, sighing. Damn chicken had lifted his mood. Asshole. But he did feel more like himself now. He didn’t have time to wallow in self-pity when there was work to get done. He’d become a hero for a reason. To save people. So many people had helped him along the way. Toshinori. Yamada. Aizawa. Fuyumi. Izuku.

He’d become a hero for his baby brother in his stupid red shoes and his teary, wide eyes and blinding smile.

Now it was time to be his hero, too.

Chapter 10: Chapter 10

Chapter Text

“Eraserhead, All Might, thank you for having me.”

Aizawa nodded, pushing a cup of coffee across the conference room table toward the detective. “Is there a reason you wanted to have this meeting here, Tsukauchi?”

Tsukauchi chuckled. “I was finishing my interviews with Todorki and Iida, and I thought I would take advantage of UA’s coffee and the fact that I have you both in one place and conscious.”

Toshinori frowned at Tsukauchi’s tone. They’d been working together for some years, and while Tsukauchi was polite and possessed an excellent dry sense of humor, when he waffled like this it meant there was something well and truly bothering him. It was a subtle difference. Really it sounded like pleasantries to the untrained ear, but to Toshinori it was a glaring red flag that sent his blood pressure anxiously rising.

Beside him, Aizawa’s eyes narrowed suspiciously, seeming to have reached the same conclusion, scowling down at his own coffee cup for a second and then downing it. Toshinori repressed a shiver–it really was unnatural, that coffee was still steaming.

“Spit it out. We’ve only got twenty minutes before lunch is over, and I have to make sure my hell class hasn’t found yet another serial killer hiding around a corner.”

Toshinori couldn’t quite contain a wince at that, and Tsukauchi grimaced at the reminder of the past few days. Young Iida had been lucky to get away with his life, but even with Recovery Girl’s powers he was still on restriction from practical heroics training and it was unlikely he would be allowed to participate in upcoming final exams. But he was alive, thanks to young Todoroki’s quick thinking and sheer stubbornness.

Toshinori had been keeping an eye on the young man ever since–he did not use his fire side before the incident with the Hero Killer, and after…he seemed skittish around flames as small as a candle. Then again…if the first time the boy used his fire side in who knows how long was to cauterize a lethal wound to prevent his friend from bleeding out, Toshinori could not blame him for his reluctance. It reminded him painfully of another boy frightened of himself…though why young Shoto carried that same trauma was something that puzzled Toshinori.

Then again, Toshinori had only met the boy a handful of times, as Endeavor was very strict about his upbringing, so maybe he was projecting Tenko’s trauma onto young Shoto. Either way, if Aizawa did not address it soon he would bring it up to the other man–Toshinori did not pretend to be the most experienced teacher, but he did care, and he wanted to see the young people under his care flourish.

“I think it might just be best for you to hear it.” After another uncharacteristic moment of hesitation, Tsukauchi pressed play.

“--And you’re sure that thing’s on?”

“Yes. Now what exactly are you talking about, Bakugo?”

Toshinori frowned. This wasn’t about the Hero Killer, then.

“You mean you really don’t–what kind of cops are you?”

“Bakugo–”

“I thought you had to have–Midoriya Izuku. Deku.”

On the tape, Tsukauchi inhaled sharply, and beside Toshinori Aizawa stiffened. Toshinori himself felt a heavy weight settle on his chest, making it hard to breath. Deku. Izuku. Midoriya Izuku. This was not a coincidence. Tsukauchi’s face was set in a hard, grim line.

“How do you know that name?”

“Because the damn nerd followed me around since we were in diapers until he got carted off to live with his Dad when Auntie died! Then he showed up halfway through elementary like nothing had ever happed, only he was even f*cking weirder than before and then in junior high he…and now he’s…what the f*ck happened to him, Detective Trenchcoat?”

“In junior high he what?”

“Deku disappeared off the face of the damn planet halfway through our third year of junior high.”

Tsukauchi paused the recording, reaching into his jacket and pulling out a thin manila folder. “Meet Midoriya Izuku. Fifteen years old.” Toshinori gingerly opened the folder, his breath catching for a second as a boy of no more than four years old beamed up at him, waving an All Might action figure.

Fluffy green hair.

Stay with me!

Aizawa spread the papers on the table and Toshinori’s eyes landed on the wreckage of a small car, crumpled up like a used tin can alongside an autopsy report for a Midoriya Inko. Tsukauchi’s heavy voice brought his eyes back up to find the detective staring at the picture of young Midoriya.

“Midoriya Inko died in a car accident eleven years ago after falling asleep at the wheel on her way home from a double shift at Jakku Hospital. Her son Izuku was sent to live with his only living relative, Midoriya Hisashi. I…I sat with him until a social worker came to get him.”

Toshinori swallowed, looking between the photo and Tsukauchi. Eleven years ago. Sensei wanted me to have one. A what? A brother. “And there’s nothing else?”

Tsukauchi frowned. “That’s the thing. There is. There are school records beginning in third grade at Aldera Elementary, and they continue through middle school with Aldera Junior High. They’re almost too normal aside from a few disciplinary reports. Nothing serious–just a few minor incidents where he provoked another student into a fight, or pretended to be sick or hurt to get out of P.E. There was, however, one time where another student, a Tsubasa, was expelled for an altercation between him and Midoriya, but Midoriya was only suspended for a week.”

Aizawa nodded slowly. “So he was bullied?”

Tsukauchi nodded slowly. “His quirk records mark him as quirkless…and that alone would have made his life difficult in school, unfortunately. So it definitely looks like it started that way, though from his school records, it seems like he started retaliating.”

Toshinori nodded slowly, a pit of sadness opening up in his stomach. The child in front of him had such bright eyes, and the idea of him suffering for something entirely out of his control…for something Toshinori had intimate experience with…hit hard.

“But after that?”

“After that, it really is like the kid just disappears. No high school records, nothing. The address provided to Aldera leads to an empty lot. Midoirya Hisashi is a ghost. He’s so clean that I would say he doesn’t exist if I could prove it.”

“Then it probably was always a cover.” Aizawa spoke softly, rubbing the scar under his eye. “The kid was probably with whoever his dad actually is since Midoriya Inko died. Have you considered his family being connected to the yakuza? It wouldn’t be beyond some of them to make alliances with villains.”

Toshinori looked back at the picture of the grinning four year old Izuku, his conversation with Tsukauchi from a week prior drifting back across his mind.There was only one person who could imbue something with more than one quirk. Someone who had twisted Tenko until he had been nearly beyond help even at such a young age. Someone who would not want a familial quirk anywhere near the quirk registry. Someone who was so adept at deception, at hiding himself and his followers in plain sight that he might as well have been a ghost. The creature…this nomu…it had evidence of multiple quirks in its dna.

He wanted to be a hero. Like you.

“No, I do not think this boy was raised by the yakuza. In all likelihood he was raised by the same villains who kidnapped Tenko as a child–what they want him for, I can only guess. But we will have to proceed with the utmost caution. He may be marked as quirkless, but it’s possible that was also a lie and he was instructed not to use it.”

Aizawa was glancing between Toshinori and Tsukauchi like he was attempting to put together a puzzle, but Toshinori did not continue. If his hunch was right, if All For One really did live, if he really was, as Tenko said, the green haired boy’s father, then there was a very high chance that Midoriya Izuku was not actually quirkless, and that thought alone chilled him. There was, however, something odd about the whole situation. All For One did not share his throne. So why…why keep the only boy who could potentially challenge him alive, even if the poor child was likely twisted beyond the point of no return?

Tsukauchi blew out a long breath. “It’s a start. I’d like to set up another interview with Bakugo soon, Aizawa. Maybe after exams and your training camp in a couple weeks, but I don’t want to leave it longer. Until then, I’ll try to dig up anything else on Midoriya we can find.”

Aizawa nodded again slowly, eyes still faintly narrowed in suspicion. Toshinori knew the younger hero suspected there was more to the villain group that had kidnapped Tenko and raised young Midoriya than they were telling him, but until it was necessary…until he was sure he was not wrong…there was a reason All For One’s reign of terror was kept quiet, and every person who knew gave risk to the general public finding out what he was capable of. What he might still be capable of, unless the evidence and the sinking feeling in his gut was wrong…

Toshinori prayed he was.

_________________

The sound of cheering drew Izuku into the dimly lit living room, gingerly walking down the hallway in socked feet to see what the noise was about–it wasn’t that Dabi was a quiet roommate. In fact, he was never shy about swearing, loudly, when he stubbed his toe at two in the morning when he was trying to get a snack, but he did not watch a lot of TV or play a lot of games. Not like Tomura had.

So Izuku was surprised to find the TV on as he rounded the corner just in time to see a kernel of popcorn bounce off the screen with a soft plink as the camera panned across–Endeavor! Endeavor, standing in a large stadium with his arms folded as he watched a boy with white and red hair encase another boy in a glacier.

They were both in U.A. gym uniforms.

“You’re watching the U.A. Sports Festival?”

Dabi turned his head lazily from where he was sprawled on the couch at Izuku’s yelp. “Oh you’re alive. You look like sh*t.”

Izuku scowled. “Now we m-match.”

Dabi snorted, moving his legs for Izku to sit on the other end of the couch, giving him a full view of several heroes trying to defrost the unfortunate student Todoroki Shoto had frozen. “Touche.”

Izuku tossed a sideways glance at Dabi, torn between excitement of getting to watch the U.A. Sports Festival (something he hadn’t dared since he was seven) and the overwhelming curiosity as to why Dabi was watching it. Well…it didn’t look like the student—Sero, his brain helpfully supplied–was getting out of that glacier any time soon.

“Don’t you hate heroes?”

“Yep.” Dabi picked up another handful of popcorn kernels, popping them in his palm and shoving them into his mouth.

“But you’re watching the U.A. Sports Festival.” Dabi glanced at him.

“Yeah. Sensei wanted me to take a look for any special little wannabe heroes, particularly if All Might likes them. Luckily it’s a rerun, so I can do this.” Dabi lazily clicked the remote and the heroes surrounding Sero scurried around in double time. It was a little funny at this speed, but that could also be the hydrocodone Izuku had graduated to in the past week as opposed to an IV.

He frowned briefly, his side twinging along with a faint sense of nausea in his stomach. The students looked scared. He was scared. Izuku didn’t…he didn’t like the implication of Sensei being interested in a student special to All Might.

A piece of popcorn hit Izuku’s head and he flinched, abruptly ripped out of his growing anxiety, letting out a soft groan as the bullet wound sharply protested at the movement and he stared at Dabi in betrayal.

“What? I don’t know cpr so if you collapse that’s it.”

“Dabi–”

“Shut up, I’m watching heroes, Izuku. I’m busy.”

“I hate you.”

“I know.”

They fell into a comfortable silence.

Izuku broke down after less than two minutes and started to take notes on a spare napkin he snatched off the coffee table–he was too sore to move before he had to, and besides, it’s not like the time he’d run out of paper and used his arms in middle school.

Despite his excitement at getting to watch the festival, Izuku felt like he was waiting for the other shoe to drop. He had helped plan and execute an attack that could have killed any of these kids, and with each student on screen the knot in Izuku’s chest eased and then tightened painfully. He didn’t deserve to watch this, to root for them one moment when he might have their blood on his hands the next.

He’d taken off his mask to stall Kacchan. There was no going back, no shying away from what he’d become. A villain. He wondered if he was in any of their nightmares the same way they had started showing up in his alongside Eraserhead’s crumpled body.

But still he watched. If he was going to take things that were not his, then Izuku stubbornly clung to the happiness watching the festival and analyzing their quirks gave him.

The next few hours passed with an odd feeling of domesticity.

Dabi nearly cried with laughter when Kirishima spent twenty minutes brawling with a boy whose quirk was nearly identical before they both collapsed.

Izuku’s heart gave a dull lurch when Kacchan stomped onto stage to face off against Uraraka Ochako. Izuku thought she looked nice, and her quirk was amazing! She nearly pulled a victory over Kacchan, too, which immediately earned her even more respect in his eyes. She clearly knew how to manipulate her quirk even if Kacchan won at the end.

He was again surprised to see a tired looking purple haired teenager win every single one of his fights without lifting a finger. Izuku was even more shocked that he recognized him–he was far taller than before, and lacking the cat backpack, but that was the boy from years ago! The one he’d watched Eraserhead save!

Shinso Hitoshi. Quirk: Brainwashing, and the only student from General Education to make it this far.

Izuku’s hands felt sweaty as Shinso squared off against Todoroki. No wonder Sensei’s men had tried to bring him to the compound. Shinso’s quirk was perfect for underground heroics–he would be an incredible infiltrator or hostage negotiator. And if he could make people forget he brainwashed them he’d be nearly unstoppable! It had to be response based though, because Shinso just got thrown thirty feet across the arena by a jet of Todoroki’s ice–yeah, Brainwashing had to be response based, because Todoroki was the only one of Shinso’s opponents that hadn’t started shouting yet.

“Yeah, you’re probably right–shame, I wanted to see the Todoroki kid get his ass handed to him.”

Izuku jumped as Dabi responded to the mumbles he didn’t even realize had become vocalized as Shinso made a desperate dive, managing to finally close the distance between him and Todoroki, throwing a wild punch that the other boy sidestepped, flipping the other Shinso over his shoulder and pinning him to the ground, a tomb of ice encasing him all the way past his mouth, stopping just short of his nostrils. Midnight declared Todoroki the winner.

Dabi was silent for another few minutes as Kacchan and Todoroki faced each other, leaning forward with mild interest.

“Which one of the hero brats do you think would make the best villain? Maybe the brainwashing one?”

Izuku tore his eyes away from where Kacchan was breaking through one of Todoroki’s glaciers, eyes narrowed with fury.

“They’re hero students, I don’t think they’d make very good villains.”

Dabi snorted. “Most heroes are only in heroics because it’s easier than fighting the cops at every turn–they’re all fake and hollow when it comes to heroic ideals.”

“You sound like Stain.”

Dabi lolled his head over to look at Izuku, eyes bright with scorn. “Nah, turns out that guy’s a dick too, so I told the nomu to eat him. Shame he has the skill to back up the stick up his ass, because he actually managed to kill one when it attacked him after the hero brats. How he managed to kill a nomu and not a first year hero student I don’t even–”

“He–what?” Izuku gaped at Dabi, opening and closing his mouth several times. What on earth had happened when he was unconscious. Nobody had said anything about contacting Stain or more U.A. students and more nomu.

Dabi snapped, a small blue flame appearing on each of his fingertips as he began to heat yet another handful of popcorn kernels. “Yeah, asshole started going on about how we didn’t have the right kind of conviction.” Something dark and foreign crossed Dabi’s face at the words, an anger Izuku rarely saw and still didn’t understand. “So I decided to show him conviction and told the nomu to eat him and rip up some sh*t in the city. I forgot you hadn’t heard since you decided to get shot.”

Izuku barely managed a weak glare at Dabi, hardly even registering the increasing frequency of explosions coming from the television. Dabi unleashed nomu. Unleashed the monsters who had destroyed a pro hero in seconds on a city of regular people. To prove a point? What point? The nausea in his stomach turned to battery acid.

Dabi looked back at the tv in time to watch a massive explosion engulf the screen, smoke making it impossible to tell who was still standing after that. He snorted and started to fast forward again, revealing an unconscious Todoroki and a freezer burned Bakugo standing over him. A small, satisfied smirk pulled at Dabi’s lips.

“But if you had to pick, which one?”

“I don–” Dabi raised an eyebrow, glancing back at Izuku, who clicked his mouth shut over another denial. Really, he knew who would frighten him the most as a villain. Not that he…he didn’t think Kacchan would ever turn to villany. He’d idolized All Might just as much as Izuku had. He’d wanted to be a hero since they had learned what heroes were.

Why don’t you take a swan dive off the roof and pray for a quirk in your next life.

Kacchan could be an amazing hero. Izuku still believed that. Even after everything. He could. Could. Would? Izuku ruthlessly shoved down that thought. He still wanted to believe Kacchan could even overcome himself to be a hero. He really, really wanted to.

Cruel children become cruel heroes.

“Well?”

“B–Bakugo.” Kacchan’s last name felt heavy when it slipped out of his lips in a jerky murmur. But Izuku still feared what would happen if Dabi ever made the connection between them–Kacchan would never get the chance to grow if he was dead. It wouldn’t matter what Izuku wanted if Dabi knew. “H–his quirk is perfectly suited for heroics. B–but if he were to turn to villany, he could cause the most widespread destruction.”

Dabi sped through another twenty minutes of video, pressing play again just in time to see the winners podiums rise from below the stadium.

Bakugo struggled in the first place spot against heavy–chains? Thick, heavy manacles and a muzzle held on by a black leather strap that cut starkly across his blonde hair. Todoroki stood stiffly next to him, gaze fixed on a point in the distance while Shinso was pointedly not looking at Bakugo from the third place spot. Izuku couldn’t be sure, but it looked like his hands, shoved deep in his pockets, were fisted.

The nausea building in his stomach grew until Izuku swallowed thickly, unable to tear his eyes away from the tv as All Might presented the winners with their medals, pausing a second in front of Kacchan before gently setting the medal around his neck. His fingers brushed the strap of the muzzle, hesitating a split second on the lock, but he didn’t take it off. His grin looked frozen. He didn’t take it off.

Beside him Dabi let out a low whistle as Kacchan renewed his struggles once the medal settled around his neck, the muffled sound of explosions from the manacles covering his hands audible even over the cheers of the crowd.

“Damn. You might be onto something with the villain thing, nerd.”

Izuku didn’t answer, too busy watching All Might’s stiff back retreat toward one of the stadium exits and the crowd’s loud shouts. Why wasn’t anyone doing anything?

Where were the heroes?

All Might didn’t take it off.

____________________

To say that Hitoshi was uncomfortable would be an understatement. It wasn’t that he thought that the Bakugo asshole didn’t deserve to have someone take him down a peg or two…but that felt wrong.

He forced his hand back down from where it’d started to ghost across his face, shoving it back into his pocket and away from the reassuring feeling of soft, healthy skin.

Honestly it was sh*tty luck that he’d drawn to fight against Todoroki who seemed to have the emotional range of a teaspoon and the thickest skin of anyone Hitoshi had had the unfortunate task of getting a reaction from. If it were Bakugo he would have won that fight in a second…but of course it wasn’t.

Since when had life made it easy for Hitoshi?

No, he had to fight the Ice Prince himself and he’d lost. Horribly. So much for his chances of getting into the hero program–he wasn’t sure if he was more upset that he’d gotten so close that he could practically taste it, or that he’d tried at all.

Not that he was giving up because if there was anything Hitoshi was full of other than instant ramen and coffee, it was spite, and he had every intention of proving everyone who had ever whispered villain when he passed in the hallway wrong.

But it sucked. And he was angry and embarrassed and right now he just wanted to take a nap and pretend it was a bad dream.

Hitoshi was so wrapped up in the beginnings of his pity party that he nearly ran headlong into a woman with bright blue skin and a power suit rounding the corner of the hallway. He pulled up just in time to avoid a collision, the beginnings of a mumbled apology dying in his throat as his eyes caught the steel muzzle dangling from a black leather strap in her hand. This close he could hear the soft clink of the chains, see the wiring laced around the lock, designed to give the wearer a shock if anyone tried to remove it without a key. His mouth was dry, fingernails digging into his fists still hidden in his pockets.

The woman was staring at him, a small smile stretching across her face, not reaching her eyes. “Ah, Shinso. I’m glad I got the chance to speak with you, I didn’t see you in the green room.”

That would be because Hitoshi had gotten the hell out of there as quickly as possible so he didn’t have to talk to anyone, but the woman did not seem to be expecting a response and plowed on before he could answer.

“Brainwashing is a useful quirk. It’s a pity you were mismatched today, but even if you failed to set yourself up for a transfer into the hero course program, there are multiple options for someone with your…talents. For example, with the Hero Commission's–”

“Is there a reason you’re in the participants’ only area?”

Hitoshi definitely didn’t jump when the new voice, bored and flat, sounded from directly behind him and he whipped around to find Eraserhead glaring at the woman. The muzzle clanked as her hand tightened minutely around the strap.

“I was simply transporting Hero Commission property, Aizawa-san.” Hitoshi glanced between the two adults, biting his tongue to keep from telling this woman that Eraserhead, was who she was talking to, but Eraserhead didn’t acknowledge the slight, only settled a hand onto Hitoshi’s shoulder.

“It looks like you got what you came for.” If anything, the underground hero’s voice got flatter. “The Principal is waiting to escort you to the gates. Make sure you go with him, the security system is triggered by unauthorized intruders, so he can make sure you pass without issue. Shinso.” Hitoshi nearly squeaked because holy sh*t Eraserhead was directly addressing him, but he managed to get ahold of himself enough to raise an eyebrow in question. “With me.”

Eraserhead looked back at the woman, whose smile was somewhat stiff now. “If you’ll excuse us.” Without waiting for a response he steered Hitoshi around the corner and away from the woman. They walked several minutes in silence down hallways that Hitoshi still hadn’t memorized and definitely wouldn’t start now because he was too busy internally losing it over the fact that Eraserhead himself was now walking in front of him, having dropped a hand from Hitoshi’s shoulder once they were out of sight of the woman.

Eraserhead was taking him somewhere. Hitoshi didn’t even care where. The hero could walk Hitoshi into the bowels of the stadium and murder him and Hitoshi would still thank him. Finally, Eraserhead came to a stop in a hallway that looked exactly the same as the other ten or so hallways they’d gone down, leaning against the wall and looking at Hitoshi for a long moment.

Hitoshi stared back, not wanting to ask what they were doing here, even if a growing part of him was burning to know. Questions were dangerous. Hitoshi knew that intimately.

“That was smart quirk use, today. Your hand to hand was pathetic, but that comes with time. You’re angling to transfer into the hero course, right?”

Hitoshi gaped for a second before nodding. No way. He’d failed. He’d literally been turned into a popsicle in front of ten thousand people after nearly breaking his hand throwing a punch.

“The way you are now, the hero course students would wipe the floor with you in training.”

There it was. Of course it wasn’t going the way he’d barely even dared to dream of, but it still stung that Eraserhead of all people was the one telling him this. Hitoshi’s body was hot a prickly all over, and he opened his mouth to say angrily, “I still beat half of–”

“Relying on your quirk alone in the field will get you killed, kid. For you, especially if your quirk is known, limelight work would be extremely difficult. Realistically speaking–”

That figured, Hitoshi thought bitterly. Of course even his own personal hero was telling him that he, the baby villain in the making, was not cut out for hero work. Because why let Hitoshi hold onto the one hero that he saw himself in time and again over the years? He nearly missed Eraserhead’s next words.

“–you’re most suited to underground hero work, and that’s what I would recommend you pursue, though like I said limelight would be difficult but not impossible for you. So if you’re serious about your transfer request I’ll help you get there.”

“...what?” Hitoshi couldn’t even bring himself to care how small his voice was, too busy replaying Eraserhead’s statement in his head over and over again.

Eraserhead co*cked his head, the ghost of a smile flitting across his face so quickly that Hitoshi questioned whether or not he’d even seen it.

“Are you not serious about it?”

“Y–yes! I am! Of course I am! I’ll do it.”

Eraserhead nodded again, pushing himself off the wall and heading back the way they’d come. Hitoshi hurried to follow, not eager to become one of the many skeletons of lost students he was certain existed down here.

“Good. We can set up the details on Monday. I’m warning you now–this will not be easy.”

Even though Eraserhead couldn’t see him, Hitoshi nodded firmly. “I can make it, Sensei.”

A soft snort drifted back to him, though Eraserhead still didn’t turn.

“Yeah kid, I know you can. So do it.”

__________________

“Thank you so much for coming with us, Shimura-sensei!” Tenko rocked slightly as Uraraka suddenly threw her arms around his middle in a brief but painful hug seeing as his internal bruising was not quite healed. “And for everything else–bye!”

“I’m not your–” But she had already snagged frog girl, man he really needed to learn these kids names, and sprinted away in search of a battery powered lantern. The rest of 1-A quickly followed suit, eagerly chattering about the “summer camp" (and hadn’t Tenko remembered that particular logical ruse) and comparing shopping lists.

“Yeah, sure…it’s fine.” None of the retreating high schoolers seemed to be listening to him anyway. “Scream if someone dies, I guess…”

Tenko turned, deciding if he was going to be here for the next several hours in no official capacity he was going to find a nice bench and a soft pretzel from that American stand in the food court. His plans were immediately disrupted when he nearly bumped into Shoto, who was standing just slightly closer than could be called comfortable and staring up at him, unblinking. Tenko couldn’t be certain since the kid’s poker face rivaled Fuyumi’s, but he was at least sixty percent sure he was being silently laughed at. He raised an eyebrow.

“You need something, Shoto?”

“I’m glad you aren’t dead. It would make Fuyumi sad.” Tenko blinked. That was…about the most sentiment he’d ever heard out of Shoto, so he must have been really worried.

“Yeah, I’m glad I’m not dead too.”

Shoto shuffled in place for a second. “You won’t, will you?” Now, Tenko was mostly off the painkillers that made his head swim, but he wasn’t following the leap of logic, here.

“...I won’t what?” Shoto tilted his head, his tone was even but there was an edge to it now.

“You make her happy. It should stay like that.” Oh, this was a delayed shovel talk. Tenko almost smiled given how gravely serious Shoto looked. It felt like he was being threatened by an owlet. But he could guess where this was coming from–Fuyumi didn’t like to talk about it much so he didn’t have any details, but he knew Rei-san and Endeavor had not had a peaceful marriage in the months leading up to Toya’s death, Shoto’s burn and Rei-san’s hospitalization. Fuyumi had practically raised Shoto ever since.

“It will. And if you ever doubt it, you have my permission to beat me up.” Shoto nodded seriously, finally looking away, seeming to realize he’d been abandoned by his classmates. Honestly, why did these kids even come as a group if they weren’t going to stick together at all? Fuyumi had been the one to ask Tenko to come with Shoto today in the first place, saying it would make her feel better to know someone was close in case anything happened after the USJ incident even if he still wasn’t on active duty. And maybe you and Shoto can bond, I keep telling you that he looks up to you! Did this count as bonding?

“So…what did you need to buy for the, uh, summer camp?” Shoto shrugged, still scanning the mall.

“Nothing. Iida invited me and Fuyumi said I should go, so I did.”

Tenko snorted. “You and me both.”

For the first time a ghost of a smile flickered across Shoto’s face. Tenko counted it as a win. He fished a couple thousand yen out of his pocket, waving the slightly crumpled bills in front of Shoto. “Well, I doubt we’ll find your class until they meet for lunch. There’s enough here for two pretzels–you can have one if you’ll go buy them while I find a place to sit. Or you can go look for your class. Either’s fine.”

After a moment’s hesitation Shoto took the bills from him. “What kind should I get?”

“The cinnamon sugar is my favorite, have you tried them?”

Shoto shook his head, expression closing off, perfectly neutral. “Endeavor doesn’t like junk food.”

“Well then, make sure you get one with extra sugar.” Some of the tension that had begun to draw Shoto’s shoulders up toward his ears drained away and Tenko was again rewarded with a faint twitch of his lips, an almost mischievous slant to his eyes. Good. The kid could stand to get into some trouble here and there. Normal teenage trouble, not whatever the hell happened with Stain Fuyumi had called him about in a panic. Tenko nodded toward the pretzel stand across the food court. “Go ahead, I’ll look for a spot.”

Shoto nodded again, leaving Tenko to wade through the crowded food court tables, hoping he could find a spot to sit before his ankle decided to give out–truth be told his whole body was aching from standing this long, and he hadn’t even argued when they’d extended his medical leave. Toshinori had called in a favor with Recovery Girl for after the heroics kids scattered to various training camps and internships for the summer and she didn’t have to worry about any sudden injuries, but until then, Tenko could feel every bit of his still healing body complaining that he had been out most of the morning.

Finally, he managed to find an open bench in the crowded atrium of the mall, just outside the food court but good enough, and Tenko collapsed with a sigh. He’d had a few injuries in high school, hell, he’d actually had several serious run ins during his internships, but nothing quite like this, and Tenko was rapidly discovering that he hated long recoveries. Aizawa, the hypocrite, had simply told him to suck it up when Tenko was certain his uncle had returned to patrols two weeks before he was technically allowed.

“Oh wow! You’re Phoenix, aren’t you! Can you sign my notebook? You’re incredible!” Someone plopped down beside him, shoving a small notebook into his hands without waiting for an answer. Despite his surprise, Tenko automatically began to sign the book–he wasn’t often recognized in public, and he preferred it that way, but he also wasn’t an ass and this kid sounded excited. He glanced to the side to find a small figure in a deep blue hoodie with the hood drawn up, eagerly leaning closer to watch Tenko sign the pages. He was short enough that Tenko couldn’t quite make out his face. The boy’s tone turned pensive in an abrupt shift from its previous eagerness.“It’s amazing how you started as a villain’s apprentice and now you’re a hero. Can you tell me how you did it, Tomura?”

Chapter 11: Chapter 11

Chapter Text

Izuku stared at himself in the mirror, biting his lip to try and keep the quickly welling tears in his eyes from spilling over.

Snip. Snip. Snip.

It wasn’t like he had anyone to blame for this but himself. Nobody had asked him to, and nobody would make him, but here he was anyway.

Snip. Snip.

More soft green curls fell into the sink and he let out a long, shaky breath. It was really a simple question of give and take, statistics, that was all. He knew his hair was recognizable–it had been one of his mother’s favorite things to ruffle playfully until it stood on end and made sparks in the dark bathroom while he giggled uncontrollably at the sight. That’s why this was necessary.

Snip. Snip. Snip.

Almost done. Just another part of him cut out before he was ready to let it go. At least it was him, this time, doing it. At least it was his own proverbial blood staining his hands–that of a younger Izuku, the one that existed before Sensei had forced his eyes open to what he would become. What he was.

The tears were getting harder to hold back, but Izuku really didn’t want to add cutting his ear to his list of healing injuries so he blinked stubbornly, the boy in the mirror scowling back, his face somehow thinner, stark pale and hollow after nearly three months indoors and the lack of green halo about his head.

Snip.

There. Izuku set the scissors down with shaking hands. Mom kept a photograph of their family on the mantle, him and mom and dad, just the three of them in front of the door to the apartment the day they’d moved in. He’d looked at that picture a hundred times, trying to remember what his father’s voice sounded like, to match it with the cheerful smile in the picture. Now, staring at himself, Izuku saw Midoriya Hizashi’s face, his cheekbones and closely cropped, wavy green hair. His son. Izuku looked like a copy of his father.

He hated it. But if he had to stay in the compound one more day Izuku was going to have a breakdown. Dad–Sensei–hadn’t spoken to him since he got injured, only sending brief messages though Kurogiri. And this wouldn’t be too unusual given what his father was involved with, except that Dabi had begun spending more and more time with Sensei in the past two months, disappearing to the labs several times a week at this point, the manic gleam in his eyes growing steadily more prominent with each trip.

And Izuku…Izuku was left to his own devices, at a total loss as to how to regain his father’s favor, and uncertain if he should try or wait until he was summoned again and Sensei decided he had been punished enough. Because there was no denying that that’s what this was at this point. A small part of him was angry that Sensei knew him well enough to know how much this silence would hurt, and a bigger part of himself was repulsed that he so desperately desired his villain father’s approval in the first place.

It was confusing. And if he spent one more day pacing the compound with only his own mind to keep him company, or more accurately turn on itself as it was wont to do recently, then he was going to go insane. Maybe that’s what Sensei wanted, for him to contemplate, and he’d be angry that Izuku was leaving at all…but then again Sensei hadn’t said he couldn’t go out, either.

Izuku glared at himself in the mirror before looking away, still unnerved to see the same look that froze him in his tracks every time it was levied his way as a child. He still looked too much like himself, too much like him, and so snagging Dabi’s bottle of hair dye, Izuku set to work, only breathing a sigh of relief when his hair was as dark as his foster sibling’s.

Well, at least now they looked related. Dabi would hate it. Then he’d probably try to get Izuku to pierce his ears again and round off the “family resemblance.” And the tears had subsided somewhere down inside him, calmer now that Izuku could see at least a small piece of himself, warped as it was, and not his father in the mirror.

It still looked wrong. It felt wrong. Green eyes, black hair, and a ghostly pale face. But it should be enough that he wouldn’t be immediately arrested. And if Sensei had not forbidden it, he could get Kurogiri to let him out–even now he had never left the compound by its actual exit. He wasn’t even sure where it was.

What did that make him?

Izuku didn’t want to think about that right now. He went to find Kurogiri.

Ten minutes and some delicate wording later, he found himself awash in a sea of people, wandering aimlessly around after finding his way in from a deserted corner of the parking garage where he’d been dropped. He’d been right, and Kurogiri had mildly handed him a five thousand yen bill and a reminder to call for a pick up before dinner was ready at six. He didn’t know if Dad would be joining them, but I would advise you to be prudent, Midoriya Izuku. That still left him most of the day to do as he pleased, so Izuku had just nodded and stepped through the portal to the sweet illusion of freedom.

The mall was crowded, almost overwhelmingly so after not just a nearly three month recovery, but coming up on a year of hardly leaving the compound, much less going somewhere so public.

But as much as Izuku shoved his hands deep into his pockets as he wove around random mall-goers, it was comforting, in its own strange way.

Here, he was just another teenager out at the mall on a Saturday.

No Sensei.

No sudden tests or training or trips to the lab.

Nobody was watching him despite there being people and cameras all around–but Izuku didn’t feel eyes following him the same way he did in the compound, and the cameras were laughably obvious and outdated, for show more than anything.

He felt freer than he had in ages, finally gathering the courage to tug his hood down and stopping to admire an array of hero figures in a storefront window. They’d gotten the angle of Present Mic’s hairdo wrong–it just looked like he had an icicle sticking out of his head, not the signature crescent swoop.

His eyes wandered over the Silver Age All Might, displayed prominently at the center of all of the figures, his heart giving an involuntary lurch at the sight of the hero’s plastic grin.

Now that he really considered it, the fact that All Might had been late to the USJ was strange–not because the hero had been late at all, but that after Iida (and it must have been Iida given the response time of the pro heroes) had escaped it had taken him too long from when a distress signal would have gone out to his arrival. Izuku knew All Might’s speeds, even all these years later those tidbits of information were ingrained in him from before he’d come to live in the compound. And he knew All Might had arrived approximately three minutes later than he should have given when he was approximating Iida would have alerted U.A. staff.

Three minutes was not a lot of time. But in heroics it was the difference between life and death. All Might would know that.

Something was wrong with All Might.

The thought struck him with crystal clarity.

Something was wrong with All Might.

Izuku gulped, shaking his head a little. That was not a train of thought he wanted to follow–not with the implications it gave, not when he didn’t know if Sensei knew that there was something affecting All Might’s hero work, or if he would be alerting his father by asking.

No…no Izuku shouldn’t dig there. Whatever it was, he would just have to hope that it was fixable.

Besides, even with an unknown factor working against him, All Might had still managed to defeat the nomu and presumably clear the area in time to save Eraserhead.

Eraserhead, who Sensei had taken an interest in. Erasherhead, who was still alive and would be returning to regular hero duty soon if he hadn’t already–U.A. teachers presumably had access to Recovery Girl and her quirk, which meant there was a high likelihood that Eraserhead was already back on active duty.

Izuku would just have to trust that All Might could handle himself. There were a lot of things Izuku didn’t trust All Might for anymore, but if Sensei had taught him anything it was that heroes could be trusted to look out for themselves. Izuku still loved heroes, even if they didn’t always act selflessly they still did a lot of good…but he couldn’t blindly love them like he had as a kid. Sensei had shown him too many things for the nameless fear of waiting for the other shoe to drop to leave the back of his mind. But All Might…All Might still confused him.

Izuku had looked for the things Sensei told him about–heroes who could be bought, heroes who didn’t care about anyone when the cameras were off, but he couldn’t find a reason to hate All Might outside of the fact that he had condemned Izuku to life as a villain by taking away Tomura–who was Tenko now–and Izuku hadn’t even begun to–

“I don’t think he meant a lantern that–oh!” Izuku stumbled a couple steps forward as someone crashed into his back, and he would have smashed headfirst into the display window if he hadn’t stopped mid fall, suddenly floating a couple inches off the ground before abruptly dropping to his feet at a second gentle touch.

“I’m so sorry I wasn’t looking where I was going I didn’t mean to knock into you like that…and using my quirk I just didn’t want you hurt too! You’re okay, right?”

Izuku stared with wide eyes at the brown hair and sheepish grin on Uraraka Ochako’s face.

“Uraraka…” The name slipped past his lips in a stunned murmur, because of all the people to literally crash into him it was one of Class 1-A.

Uraraka co*cked her head, smile turning a bit puzzled. “Uhh, yeah, that’s me! Do I know you?”

“I–n–no, sorry that probably sounded so creepy. I saw y–you on the sports festival broadcast and I th–thought your quirk was really cool and there are so many uhh, applications for it in heroics and I…yeah…s-sorry…”

He looked down at his shoes, feeling his face flush a brilliant red in a combination of embarrassment and panic. He needed to get out of here before he accidentally apologized for nearly killing her homeroom teacher or something equally damning.

A light laugh brought his head jerking back up. Uraraka was bobbing from foot to foot, smile still firmly in place, but something about her voice sounded tight. “Thanks, but you don’t have to be nice, I know I messed up. But I’m working to get better!”

“I-I’m not being nice, it’s true! Your quirk is so versatile, and while it doesn’t sound offensive when on paper, the way you utilize your environment alongside your quirk will let you develop a style that’s really hard for villains to predict since your tactics will change based on what’s available around you, and that’s not even scratching the surface of your rescue capabilities! You may not have won your match, but I bet you’ll make a great hero!”

Izuku clamped his mouth shut as he realized Uraraka was staring at him with round eyes, his palms going clammy. He hadn’t meant to say all of that–he’d meant it, her quirk really was amazing and even more so with her wielding it, but he hadn’t meant to freak her out more than he was sure he already had. Way to go Izuku, just pencil in creepy fan boy onto your list of accomplishments next to major villany.

After another beat Uraraka smiled again, this time more warmly. “Thank you. Really, I think I needed to hear that, I just didn’t expect it to come from someone I just met. What was your–”

“Uraraka, I think the camping store is on the third level.” A girl with long green hair was walking over from where she’d been pouring over a mall map. Tsuyu Asui. Izuku’s blood ran cold. She had been close enough to hear him during the USJ.

He gave a hasty bow to Uraraka. “I-I didn’t know you were here with someone, I’m sorry for keeping you! Th-thanks for keeping me from hitting my head, bye!” He fled before he could hear her answer, hurrying away into the crowd and trying to calm his racing heart.

That was…entirely unexpected. How had he managed, among the thousands of people in a four story mall, to find two members of Class 1-A?

He should call Kurogiri and get out of here before someone recognized him. But they hadn’t. And they were gone now. And the thought of going back into the dark compound and waiting to see if his father decided to eat dinner with him sounded like actual torture. He couldn’t do that.

Izuku pulled up his hoodie once again, heart still fluttering anxiously as he glanced around, hurrying for the central area near the food court. Thankfully no hero students, or worse, heroes, jumped out to arrest him, and Izuku was able to slow his pace, wondering if he could get away with getting a snack before dinner. He wasn’t afraid of Sensei, this time. His father wouldn’t care, but Kurogiri would have his head if he spoiled dinner. It was one of the few things the man–nomu–was particular about. Izuku wondered if mealtimes had been important to him before…before Sensei. Shirakumo Oboro.

Izuku suddenly wasn’t hungry anymore.

Kurogiri had been a whole person before Sensei created him. He had taken whoever that person was and made Kurogiri. Where did this Shirakumo end and Kurogiri begin? Izuku knew Kurogiri to be kind in his own way, never raising his voice and patiently answering any question Izuku asked that he wasn’t expressly forbidden from responding to. But his dedication to Sensei overrode any other feeling, and his quirk was terrifyingly powerful. Was Warp Gate even the quirk he’d started with? Had Sensei chosen Shirakumo Oboro to become Kurogiri because of that? The same way he wanted to take Eraserhead because of Erasure?

Once he was a nomu, how much of Eraserhead would remain in that shell?

What was Izuku supposed to do now? He would not have the means or opportunity to kill Eraserhead again–not the way the USJ had offered, and he couldn’t get them again without giving himself away to Sensei.

But the heroes had no idea that the attack had also been to specifically target Eraserhead in addition to killing All Might, and they probably thought Eraserhead’s injuries were a casualty of the carnage. Now that he was healed, they would send him back onto his regular patrol routes. His isolated patrol routes in the darkest parts of the city at times of day when it would be hours before anyone noticed him missing.

So what was Izuku supposed to do about it when he was stuck in between the heroes who wouldn’t believe him and who he had no feasible way to contact, and Sensei, who…Izuku didn’t really know what Sensei would do to him if he found out Izuku was directly going against his instructions (had already gone) but it would be far worse than what the heroes would do to him, and there was nobody on the planet who could save him from his father’s anger but it wasn’t like the heroes were going to even attempt to help a villain and they were really helpless to even save one of their own and–and he was confusing himself, now.

Izuku took a deep, steadying breath, trying to calm the speed of his thoughts and think through this problem logically.

Fact: Eraserhead was alive and still a target, probably more so after the failure of the nomu to defeat All Might and considering the value Erasure held to Sensei’s work.

Fact: Short of turning himself in, Izuku had no conceivable way to contact the heroes and inform them of this danger. It was unlikely they would believe anything he said even if he did, and he was not beyond Sensei’s reach with the police so he would most likely be silenced before he could say anything. But he had failed to kill Eraserhead when it mattered most so he had to find a way to fix his mistake. Or at least buy some time.

Fact: He didn’t want Eraserhead to die.

Fact: Izuku was afraid of what would happen if Erasherhead lived.

Fact: Izuku had lost his chance to kill Eraserhead, therefore the hero needed to stay far away from Sensei.

Fact: If Eraserhead wanted to survive, he needed to go into hiding until a solution was found (Izuku wasn’t sure what that would be), or the inevitable happened. Time was the only thing that could be borrowed. When it ran out, not if, Sensei would make his move.

Fact: Sensei did not lose.

There had to be a way. There had to be some kind of angle Izuku hadn’t considered, some scenario in which his father didn’t succeed, some way that nobody had to die to prevent an even greater evil. He was a villain, but he didn’t want to be a monster. He didn’t want to do this. He didn’t want this. Please, there had to be something he was missing here–

Izuku stopped so suddenly that he almost got run over by a mother and her children. Across the busy thoroughfare of people crossing the atrium to get to the food court, a young man gingerly lowered himself onto the bench, shoulders slumping like he was too tired to hold them straight anymore. Izuku wasn’t sure why he suddenly felt glued to the ground, the grumbles of disturbed passersby washing over him. He could only stare at the man, who ran a hand through white, wavy hair that curled about his ears in short, yet somehow unruly cut.

Izuku knew him. Why did he know him?

The man craned his neck to look into the food court before wincing, a hand coming up to gingerly rub the back of his neck, sleeve slipping down to reveal a bandaged wrist, before leaning over, chin resting on the uninjured arm, scowling briefly down at bright red high tops.

Oh.

Izuku’s eyes prickled, his breath catching in his throat as he realized who was sitting no more than fifty feet away.

Tomura.

Tomura was here. Class 1-A was here. Logically that lead to the implication that there were more heroes or students in the mall.

He should go.

Some kind of angle he hadn’t considered.

He should run before he was recognized. They would lock down the mall if anyone realized a villain associated with the USJ attack was here, and he couldn’t risk Kurogiri being seen when he’d gone out without Sensei’s permission. He needed to leave, now!

They didn’t know Eraserhead was a target.

Before he could even comprehend what was happening, driven by an impulse beyond his control, Izuku’s feet moved.

________________

“Can you tell me how you did it, Tomura?”

Tenko froze, heart leaping into his throat.

“Izuku…”

The boy stiffened beside him at the sound of his name before letting out a soft, humorless laugh. “That didn’t take long. I wouldn’t do that if I were you, Tomura.”

Tenko’s hand froze from where it had begun to drift toward his pocket—if Izuku was here then there was no telling who else was also around and the 1-A kids were just out there frolicking but something in the delicate wording of the teenager’s statement stopped him.

Izuku finally looked up at him, bright green eyes meeting red for the first time in eleven years as the younger boy pushed off the hood of his sweatshirt.

Wrong.

Black, slightly wavy hair cropped short in choppy pieces, a sallow milk-pale face with freckles painfully clear on hollow cheeks.

Izuku co*cked his head to the side, mouth twisting into a brief, painful ghost of a smile. “I think we both know what Sensei can give and take. Do you really want to risk that with so many civilians around?”

Watch, Tomura, this is all for you. See how they come to me so easily? Even the ones that don’t at first will. They have to.

Tenko’s mouth was suddenly very dry. His mind scrambling to catch up to the fact that Izuku was here, sitting next to him. Speaking to him.

“Sensei’s dead.”

He needed to call for help, get Izuku somewhere safe and evacuate the kids and civilians before all hell broke loose if the USJ villains showed. Izuku snorted. “Do you really believe that lie? I’m walking proof. It’s been a while, but you might be able to remember this isn’t how I usually look. I meant it.” Tenko’s hand froze again on his pocket, centimeters away from his phone. “Do you really want to find out what other things he’s given me?”

Tenko’s stomach was rapidly sinking, the reality of the situation cold and horrifying. This…this was not the starry-eyed kid he remembered. The skinny teenager before him staring unwaveringly into his eyes, the light he used to see there nowhere to be found, was not the Izuku he knew. Multiple quirks were not a bluff where Sensei was concerned…and if he’d given Izuku a quirk that could modify his appearance then in all likelihood that wasn’t the only one. And he still didn’t know what quirk Izuku had developed on his own.

Sensei…Sensei was alive. Tenko felt sick, a cold sweat breaking out on the back of his neck at the sudden rush of hatred and the shadow of fear running down his spine. Sensei was alive, and Izuku had spent the last eleven years alone with that monster.

“...No, I don’t.”

Izuku smiled again, that pained grimace lacking any real happiness, leaning forward to rest his palms on the bench, gripping the edges. Tenko noticed his fingers tremble minutely before gripping the bench tightly enough that his knuckles turned white. He cast a quick, wary glance around–no villains that he could see, and blessedly no Shoto coming back with pretzels.

“I’m glad we understand each other. But you never answered my question, Tomura. How is it that someone like you got to be a hero?”

Tenko stared for a second, his instincts telling him this conversation was a minefield. “I had a lot of help. Izuku, if someone’s–”

“I waited a long time for a hero to come save me.” Izuku’s words dripped with a bitterness that Tenko had never seen in him, an unsteady edge to their cadence. “But nobody ever came, and it was stupid to expect.” A quiet, humorless laugh tumbled out of him, his words slow, thoughtful, as if he was coming to some sort of conclusion. “Heroes don’t save villains–they would have locked me up for being Sensei’s son before I even did anything.” Izuku looked back up at him suddenly, eyes narrowing. “Besides, heroes can’t even save themselves. How’s Eraserhead?”

“He’s fine.” Tenko was having trouble thinking, his blood roaring in his ears with grief and shock even as he tried to come up with a way to diffuse the situation. But how could he help when he was working with unknown quirks and a threat to use them? How could he help Izuku when he wasn’t sure if they were being watched, monitored…the younger boy’s eyes kept darting to the side like he was watching for something, and Tenko couldn’t be certain he wouldn’t frighten him into doing something rash with whatever quirks he had if he just grabbed him and ran for it. He couldn’t risk that. Not with so many people around. He hated it. Tenko hated it but he couldn’t play chess with people’s lives.

“Did you know underground heroes are twenty-three percent more likely to die in the field? Lack of proper support, isolated patrol routes, getting made while undercover, even their hours that contribute to general sleep deprivation. All of that makes a dangerous combination. It’s naive to call any hero safe when there are real villains in the world–limelight, underground, even heroics students die when only one side has to play by the rules.”

The hairs on the back of Tenko’s neck stood up, a growing uneasiness turning into alarm with each word that came out of Izuku’s mouth, as mild as if he were commenting on the weather, but carrying the weight of a calm before a storm. Something was going on here, and Tenko needed to figure it out before someone got hurt. “Why are you here, Izuku?”

Izuku looked away, straightening up a bit. “I told you, I was curious how you became a hero. We were both kids, after all, what made you different from me back then? But maybe I should be asking All Might if someone like me could be a hero. He’s the one who made that call.”

It was horrible, but for a brief second Tenko wondered if he should slide close enough to slip a hand around Izuku’s neck. Izuku knew his quirk, and most people froze when movement could end their lives. But it was a bluff, and Tenko still couldn’t tell if they were being watched or if Izuku’s quirks were emitter types.

“You don’t have to do this, you know. Even after the USJ you’re still a kid there are ways to live a normal life…I can…I will help you, Izuku.”

It was nearly imperceptible, and but for a second Tenko could have sworn Izuku flinched, before the other stood abruptly, shoving his hands in his hoodie pocket, shoulders hunched like he was expecting a blow. “The thing is, Tomura, I’m not asking for your help. Don’t follow me. You’d live to regret it. I can’t promise the same thing for the civilians here.”

A few moments later he was gone, disappearing into the crowded mall like he’d never been there at all.

_________________

“So what did you occupy yourself with today, son? Did you do anything fun?”

Izuku dropped his chopsticks, scrambling to pick them up without knocking over his miso soup while Dabi let out a snort from the other side of the table. Dad was looking at him, head tilted casually over his interlaced fingers.

“D–do anything?”

“Yes, I certainly hope you’ve not been wasting away while I’ve been busy, Izuku. We’ve talked about the importance of mental stimulation alongside physical activity for proper growth and development. You’ve been unable to train your body so I certainly hope you’ve done something with your mind all this time.”

Dad’s voice was pleasant, tinged with humor and to an outsider Izuku thought it would look almost like a father teasing his son about playing too many video games. But he knew better–the undertone of warning that lurked underneath the humor, the unspoken do not disappoint me–Izuku knew better than to lie. He couldn’t lie to Sensei. He’d tried, once, before he’d learned better.

“I–I asked Kurogiri to send me to the mall.”

Dad spared a glance toward Kurogiri, who was placidly pouring tea for Dabi. Not that Dabi was going to drink it, though that had never stopped Kurogiri from trying.

“I don’t remember asking you to do that, Kurogiri. Am I going senile in my old age?”

Kurogiri straightened slowly, eyes flickering as he answered evenly. “I was not directed to keep Midoriya Izuku within the compound, so as he was not expressly breaking any rules I did not deny his request.”

Izuku swallowed, his palms beginning to sweat. There were two ways this could go, and like it or not he was about to find out. He’d known, going out, that it had been a possibility. It had been a calculated risk. He took a shaky sip of his tea, freezing when Dad’s quiet chuckles split the increasingly heavy air of the dining room.

“You really are my son, Izuku. Well, what did you do on your day out? In fact, why don’t you let me see? It’s been some time since I’ve been able to go out on my own and even longer since I’ve not had to make do with infrared.”

Izuku’s heart stuttered to a stop. He’d…he’d known he might have to explain himself to Sensei the second he’d approached Tomura. But he had forgotten about Replay.

And now if Sensei realized what he had tried to do…heard what he’d said…he would see right through him. He always did. Sensei did not lose. It was a lesson ingrained in him again and again in blood, how had he forgotten?

It wasn’t even the first time Sensei had used Replay on him. He’d been there the day it was stolen. He’d relived watching it get stolen so Sensei could test how it worked.

“What are you waiting for, son, I promise I won’t be angry if you overindulged in sweets with your allowance.”

Ever so slowly, Izuku extended his hand. He was only delaying the inevitable…and now all he could do was pray he had been vague enough that Dad wouldn’t be too angry.

“Pardon the interruption, but Doctor Garaki is asking for you in the lab, Master.”

Sensei paused his outstretched palm inches from Izuku’s hand, there was a distinct edge to his voice. “Did I not tell you, Kurogiri, that dinners are to go uninterrupted?”

Kurogiri bowed his head. “You did, however, I believe it may be a matter you wish to attend to sooner rather than later, as it involves your personal projects. I thought it best to inform you now.”

Izuku barely dared to breathe as Dad finally sighed deeply after a moment. “I suppose I did leave you sentience in order that you use it. Dabi, come with me, this project involves you. Kurogiri, if this is not urgent please revisit the definition of the word in the dictionary, I don’t want to divert discretionary spending toward adjusting you again.”

Kurogiri nodded again, opening a portal on the dining room wall as Izuku held still, barely believing what he was seeing. Afraid to move in case Sensei changed his mind. Dabi shrugged, stepping through the portal without a word as Dad stood to follow.

“I apologize, Izuku, but you will have to finish dinner without us. Have a good evening, son, but stay home this time. It’s dangerous for you at night.”

“Y–yes, Sen–Dad. Th–thank you.”

Dad nodded, looking pleased, before following Dabi through the portal as Izuku finally breathed, tears pricking at the corners of his eyes for a moment.

Izuku wasn’t sure what made him approach Tomura. It was like his feet moved before his brain could even catch up, and he’d been shocked he could even keep it together to say as much as he had.

Stupid. It had been stupid. Unbelievably, damningly stupid. If the heroes had captured him…what Sensei would have done to them to get Izuku back…he had been so stupid.

I can…I will help you.

Stupid. Stupid. Stupid.

Tomura–Tenko–had no idea, really, who he was going up against when offering to help him. If he had meant it at all. It was textbook de escalation tactics to keep a potentially hostile party from snapping. He…he couldn’t have meant it. Izuku couldn’t let himself hope like that, because it wasn’t like he had just been born into it, anymore, he’d embraced it when he’d decided to kill Eraserhead. Tomura did not know who he was offering to save. And heroes did not rescue villains. And villains did not need rescue. Izuku just hoped they’d get the message and be more careful–

“You look pale, Midoriya Izuku.” Kurogiri was kneeling next to him at the low table, eyes flickering slowly. “Perhaps you over-exerted yourself today. I would advise against any more stressful activities.”

“I–” Izuku’s voice cracked for a second. “I’m okay, Kurogiri. Th–thank you.” Kurogiri rested a hand on Izuku’s shoulder as he stood, and Izuku felt his shoulders slowly drop at the comfortingly cool touch.

“Drink your tea, Midoriya Izuku. It should help. I will return shortly with dessert.”

Suddenly Izuku really, really did not want to be alone. Not again. Not right now. Not when he had been so close.

“C–can I, I mean, do you need help finishing dessert, Kurogiri?”

Kurogiri paused from where he was collecting Dad and Dabi’s plates, surveying Izuku for a long moment before answering evenly. “I would welcome your help, Midoriya Izuku.”

Chapter 12: Chapter 12

Chapter Text

“I’ve already told you, that’s all that happened.” There was an unmistakable bite in Tenko’s voice as he glared across the table at Tsukauchi and the Hero Commission representative in the precinct’s briefing room. Shota stayed silent, watching the situation unfold, though he was beginning to wonder if he was going to have to intervene if this got any more contentious.

Where both Tenko and the Commission were involved, things almost always got ugly, and the fact that a Commission representative had shown up to collect his incident report personally and verbally was lost on nobody. Usually the kid bore the scrutiny well, but today Shota could see Tenko’s hands twitching underneath the table.

“I am simply asking you to clarify the sequence of events as you remember them, Phoenix.”

Tenko’s scowl darkened, his shoulders going stiff. “I wouldn’t leave essential details out of a report.”

The woman’s smile was practically predatory as she gestured to the stills from the security footage in front of them on the table. Beside her, Tsukauchi shifted uncomfortably, subtly glancing between the two. But speaking now would just undermine Tenko–they couldn’t protect him like he was a kid anymore, and trying to do so would just leave him open to more scrutiny from the Hero Commission. But in moments like this, Shota remembered how young his nephew still was, and watching his competence in the field questioned so blatantly made his blood boil as both Tenko’s teacher and uncle. But still he kept his mouth shut, unwilling to give the woman more ammo to use against his former student.

“Of course not. I am just asking you, Shimura-san, if there are any details you could have possibly forgotten in your initial report. Anywhere you might have been…confused before I take this back to the Commission for archiving.”

Tenko’s hands went still. “Say what you mean.”

The woman, Kashagawa, shuffled her papers, gathering up the printed stills calmly, each of her words sharp as a knife. “I’m not accusing you of anything. The Commission simply wants to confirm you have reported things as they are, free from certain…biases. It’s standard procedure seeing as your connections to this particular villain group involve Stockholm syndrome, brainwashing, and–”

“I said there’s nothing else!” Tenko stood so abruptly his chair tipped over. A brief, smug look flashed across Kashagawa’s face. Damn it.

The kid grit his teeth, blowing out a long breath through his nose before continuing lowly. “I didn’t immediately send a distress signal because Izuku threatened to use unknown quirks and the mall was packed. I decided the risk of mass casualties was worse than not apprehending him there, especially because I didn’t know if the rest of the villains from the USJ were present and I haven’t been cleared for active duty yet. I called as soon as he left. The rest of the details are in my report. You can read them there.” He turned, stalking toward the door of the briefing room.

“Thank you for your cooperation, Shimura-san.”

Tenko did not give any hint of acknowledgement, shutting the door with more force than strictly necessary, his back disappearing toward the break room. Shota slipped after him, not waiting for Tsukauchi to see off Kashagawa. She wasn’t here for him–this had been entirely to put Tenko under the microscope. Trust the Hero Commission to take advantage of an already miserable situation if it furthered the years long grudge match they had over Tenko’s entry into society. She hadn’t even asked to interview any of Shota’s students to see if they’d seen anything, which was the initial reason he’d stuck around in the first place.

He pushed open the break room door to find Tenko swirling a mug of coffee, leaning against the table. His hands were shaking.

As soon as the door opened, Tenko’s eyes flashed up and he froze as he stared at Shota, whose lips twitched faintly at the reminder of the first time he’d laid eyes on the kid in this exact scenario despite the gravity of their situation.

“I thought you didn’t like coffee.”

Tenko looked down at the mug, hand tightening minutely around the handle. It did nothing to stop the trembling. “I don’t.”

Shota moved closer, cautiously taking the coffee cup out of his hands. For all their white knuckled grip, they let it go without resistance. “Sit before you fall, kid.”

When Tenko didn’t respond, Shota decided to take a risk and placed a firm hand between his shoulders, gently pushing him to the table in the corner and down into a chair before settling across from him.

“You with me?”

Tenko flexed his fingers angrily for a second, scowling at them with a venom Shota hadn’t seen since he was nine. “Are you asking as my teacher, my uncle, or a hero right now?”

“You know I don’t separate those.”

Tenko swallowed thickly after a moment. Then it was like a dam breaking. “I’m so angry I can’t think straight right now. I hate them. The Commission and their constant bull sh*t. Him.” He looked back up, and Shota was momentarily stunned to see a thin sheen of tears in his nephew’s eyes. “I hate him, Shota. I don’t…I don’t know what I’d do if I saw him again. No. No I do know. I know what I’d do and doesn’t that mean he’d win in the end anyway? He always wanted me to kill for him and I would. I would kill him! And then he’d still win–”

“You’re gonna have to tell me who he is, kid.” Shota cut off Tenko’s increasingly hysterical tirade with some alarm. He was missing something here. He had never been privy to the full picture when it came to Tenko’s complicated past, but he’d never pried. Frankly, he wasn’t even sure how much the kid himself knew, and he was fairly certain that particular case record was sealed–Hizashi had been blocked from seeing it when he’d asked for access so he wouldn’t accidentally trigger the kid when he’d started quirk counseling with the livewire that was eight year old Tenko.

“Sensei.” Tenko spat the word like a curse, mouth twisting bitterly, voice loaded with hate and a poignant fear that Shota had never heard from the young man in front of him. “He’s alive. All Might didn’t kill him. I thought…he was supposed to be dead but he’s alive. And he’s…he’s had Izuku for years, Shota. You don’t know what he can do. What he’s done to…that man is a monster.”

Tenko broke off, breathing heavily, one hand scratching at his neck in agitation. Shota sat silently, trying to parse through what he’d just heard. So the original villain that had kidnapped Tenko was still alive and presumably working through some kind of shadow network in the underworld and had now re-emerged to challenge All Might? And judging from Tenko’s report, Izuku had been fully indoctrinated into said beliefs about hero society given the nature of their conversation and the teenager’s threats?

Though to be honest things still didn’t line up in Tenko’s report–what was this Sensei capable of giving and taking here? What was he missing? It was a question that had been bothering him since the USJ. All Might’s caginess combined with Tsukauchi withholding information on a case that directly involved his students…no the real question was what was being kept from him?

Before Shota could formulate a response, all of the fight seemed to drain out of Tenko at once and he slumped forward, elbows resting on the table, letting his head drop into his hands.“We can’t…I can’t just leave him there. We have to save him.”

Shota’s heart sank. He tried to make his next words as gentle as he could. But he couldn’t let this line of thinking devolve into something dangerous…something that could get his nephew killed. “Tenko, he might not want to be rescued now.”

Tenko’s shoulders jerked as the kid flinched at his words, but he didn’t look up from where his thumbs were pressed into his temples. His words were unsteady, barely held together. “He’s not…he’s not a villain.”

Shota’s heart broke all over again at Tenko’s statement. It sounded more like a plea. He hated that he was the one who had to do this. To see reality even if it was cruel. Acknowledge that the world had destroyed yet another innocent child who had the potential to be anything. Tenko had escaped that fate. His brother had not. Shota hated it. “I won’t deny what’s happened to him is wrong. It’s unforgivable. But kid, I’m sorry, I really am. But if he’s spent his whole childhood with this Sensei, he might not be the same child you remember.”

“I know.” Tenko’s voice was stronger now, but raw and pained. “I know what living as a villain’s ward does to you. I know. I know he might not even know he needs saving anymore. I didn’t. But that doesn’t mean he doesn’t need heroes just as much as I did. He just…he just needs a chance. I can’t…I can’t give up on him without giving him that much.”

Shota sighed softly, reaching out to lay a hand on Tenko’s shoulder. He was still so young. But Shota couldn’t protect him from this. It really wasn’t fair. “You’re a good hero, Tenko.”

________________________

“Whatcha writing, Izuku? Oooh, is that me?” A pair of arms was thrown about Izuku’s shoulders in a messy hug as Toga pounced on him from behind, nearly making Izuku drop his notebook. He fought back the instinctive flinch from the unexpected contact. He had already deemed that it was safer not to flinch when it came to Toga.

“Uhh, yeah. I wanted to write down stuff from our…uhh…training the other day, if that’s okay?” In all honesty, Izuku still wasn’t sure what to make of Himiko Toga. She’d beaten him bloody not three days ago, and it had been a remarkably strange experience to get judo flipped by a carbon copy of himself while Dabi looked on and laughed. She had then promptly declared them friends and said red was his color before breaking his nose.

Izuku had never had a beating that ended in a demand of his friendship, and it got weirder when he fully recognized that she would kill him in a heartbeat if she felt like it. It was like being part of a game of cat and mouse with an exceptionally friendly yet bloodthirsty cat, and it confused Izuku to no end.

That aside, Toga’s quirk was incredible and she was more than willing to talk to him about it, so Izuku had nearly completed his analysis of her quirk already while simultaneously learning far more than he wanted to know about how much she idolized the Hero Killer.

“Izuku…you didn’t draw my eyes big enough! Can you fix them so that they’re the right size!”

“I think they’re just right!”

“That drawing’s sh*t!”

Izuku turned to see the rest of Dabi’s new friends wandering into the living space of the lounge. They must have finished whatever meeting they’d been having at the annex, which Izuku had only learned existed last week when he’d asked Kurogiri where he’d learned to make a virgin margarita.

Apparently Dabi had been gathering allies, though Izuku was not exactly sure as to what the end goal was–it had to be Sensei’s idea, because if there was one thing Izuku knew about Dabi it was that he did not exactly play well with others and would much rather turn his problems to ashes then work with people to solve them.

“Hello, Twice.”

Twice was the easiest to get along with, and despite his split personality, he was one of the nicest villains Izuku had come across for years. He reminded Izuku a little of Tanahashi-san before Sensei had—before Tanahashi-san had betrayed Sensei.

“Why’s this brat always around?”

“Hey kid!”

The rest of the villains filtered into the room, Kurogiri bringing up the rear, closing the portal to the bar they’d just come through. Izuku briefly wondered if it was also a money laundering scheme because his father was nothing if not efficient.

Toga finally released him to perch above his head on the back of the couch, peering over his shoulder as he worked while Dabi came to lounge on the other end.

“Did you finish the analysis on those villains I asked for?”

Izuku nodded, not looking up from where he was enlarging Toga’s eyes for her sketch. They were now bigger than they were in real life, but if it kept his blood in his body, Izuku was happy to oblige.

“They’re on the table.” Mustard. Moonfish. Muscular. Three villains in various high security prisons, or at least in Mustard’s case a high security juvenile detention center. Looking into their case files had made Izuku faintly nauseous. A serial killer who liked to eat his prey alive and slowly. A man who murdered the Water Hose hero duo in a horrific attack. And a boy not much older than Izuku who had put his parents to sleep then shot them fifteen times each.

He’d made a profile on each of their quirks, personalities, and crimes, though he wasn’t entirely sure why Dabi was asking for them. Sensei had not included him in any of the increasingly frequent meetings he sent Dabi out for, though apparently he was building some kind of league of villains or something if the new faces Izuku was seeing were anything to go off of along with the training he’d been asked to observe and participate in earlier that week.

If these analyses were part of Sensei’s personal projects, then there was a high likelihood that for some reason Sensei wanted the imprisoned villains’ quirks. Dabi had probably been tasked with retrieving them and bringing them to the compound so Sensei could harvest them. Izuku wondered if he would have to watch again. Sensei had been hinting that he would soon have Izuku start tutoring sessions with Doctor Garaki on gene theory and nomu creation–oh.

They could be bases for new nomu.

Izuku swallowed as Dabi swept the three folders off the coffee table, standing and stretching before calling to the room at large.

“Okay, we leave tomorrow morning, pack your extra socks or whatever. Kurogiri’ll pick you up at your usual spots.”

There was a low murmur of agreement and the room started to empty, Kurogiri opening various portals for them to leave through.

Izuku looked up at Dabi. “Where–where are you going?”

Toga squealed, clapping her hands. “We’re gonna go make so many new friends, Izuku, maybe you can come! Dabi, can’t Izuku come he’s so smart–”

“Toga, your ride is here, scram.”

Dabi crossed his arms, looking unimpressed as Toga slid off the back of the couch with a brief pout that turned into a toothy grin as she gave a little wave to Izuku, stepping through Kurogiri’s waiting portal.

Dabi shrugged when his eyes met Izuku’s questioning gaze. “Sorry nerd, I crossed my heart and hoped to die. You’ll find out eventually.”

He stepped toward the final portal standing open in the room. Izuku’s confusion turned to a small grain of uneasiness. “Do you not live here anymore?”

Dabi snorted. “You can’t have my room. Don’t worry about it,” he turned, stepping backward into the portal, the mist swirling around him until Izuku could just barely make out his form, only his burning blue eyes bright against Kurogiri’s quirk, “I’m just working overtime this week.”

_____________________

Shoto was freezing. Bone deep cold seeping into his muscles, making it hard to move and harder to think despite the panic thrumming through his body. He was overdoing it.

Shoto didn’t panic. Not visibly, at least. Endeavor had made sure of that. Never show them when you’re weak, Shoto. Stand up!

He had been afraid when the villains attacked the USJ. Terrified, even, when he had started to lose ground against the nomu that was trying to kill him and his classmates and he knew he would not be able to protect them, himself, and Aizawa-sensei all at the same time. But those were all things he’d acknowledged after the fact, when he wasn’t busy trying to survive the next ten seconds.

“I’ve acquired our newest assets. Meet at the collection point in five minutes.”

Shoto was panicking now.

The villain, who introduced himself as Mr. Compress, neatly dodged another one of his ice walls, sprinting away through the forest with Bakugo and Tokoyami hidden in his pockets.

He’d said assets. And now he was fleeing. That meant that this had been targeted specifically toward kidnapping his classmates. Shoto ruthlessly squashed down the panic trying to creep up his throat.

“I’ll go after him, someone go back and tell Aizawa-sensei what’s happening!” He tore off without waiting for an answer, Uraraka and Shoji on his heels as Tsuyu flung herself through the trees in the opposite direction. She was the fastest through thick undergrowth like this, and Shoto could only hope she would find their teachers and sound the alarm. If Aizawa-sensei could bring the other heroes they could stop this. They had to stop this.

He could smell smoke in the air, hear the faint sounds of a fight off to his right, but he couldn’t stop–he was afraid to even take his eyes off of the villain in front of him in case he disappeared.

Even now Shoto could barely keep up as spent as he was from the fight with Moonfish and helping to subdue Tokoyami. He was cold. Too cold. But he couldn’t stop yet. He could fight through this. Shoto was good at that.

Mr. Compress dodged another jet of ice, flinging a marble toward Shoto that morphed into a large tree branch, forcing him to dive under it as they raced downhill. Not fast enough. Already the villain was almost out of sight.

Shoto grit his teeth, a white hot flash of anger running through him, burning through the haze in his mind. He threw out an arm, white ice coating the steep hill a few feet in front of them. “Uraraka, Shoji, grab onto me! We need to catch up.”

“Todoroki, make it a ramp!” Uraraka latched onto his arm at the same time as Shoji as they dove onto the smooth ice, rapidly gaining speed, plummeting down the steep hill; Shoji directed them like some strange sled, dodging trees Shoto couldn’t ice over. They were approaching the bottom of the hill at breakneck speed now, and Shoto uncurled his stiff fingers to build the ramp, noting vaguely that they were blueish from the cold.

They hit the ramp, and Shoto hoped trusting Uraraka was the right call because they were at terminal velocity by now, then suddenly gravity had no hold over them as he felt the tingle of her quirk. But it was working–they soared through the air, rapidly gaining on Mr. Compress.

Closer.

He could see the tears on the edges of the man’s coat.

“Uraraka now!”

Gravity took hold of them again, and Shoto slammed into the villain’s back, rolling the last few feet into a wide forest clearing, one knee on Mr. Compress’s chest. Beside him, Uraraka and Shoji scrambled to their feet, but they weren’t moving to help subdue Mr. Compress.

In fact, they weren’t moving at all, a frozen silence reigning over the clearing.

Shoto looked up.

The flame villain from the USJ was standing twenty feet away, arms crossed. He looked almost bored. All around him were the blood sucking girl and others Shoto didn’t recognize but he could only assume were other villains that led the attack on the camp. Now they stared at the three hero students, nobody moving as they found themselves in an unexpected standoff.

The flame villain co*cked his head. “Looks like you picked up a few strays, Compress. Duck.”

A jet of blue flame roared toward them a split second later, so quickly that all Shoto could do was roll out of the way. The heat kissed his skin but when the blinding flash of flames dissipated, Mr. Compress was standing again, toes just touching a line of scorched earth.

The villain gave a short bow. “It would seem you’ve once again been blinded by deception. Take this as a lesson, children, about what you let dazzle you next time!”

The flame villain raised an eyebrow, glancing at Mr. Compress before letting out a put upon sigh. “Right. Well since we got what we came for time to head out–”

“What makes you think we’re letting you leave?” Uraraka’s voice was shrill but determined as she slid into a fighting stance.

“Awww,” the blood sucking girl bounced closer to the flame villain. “Dabi, can we keep her too? She's so cute and she was tasty!”

The flame villain, Dabi, spared her a brief glance. “No more pets. We’ve reached the max on our lease. Besides, they’re gonna be too busy putting out fires to come.”

He stamped, another jet of blue flames searing out in a line from his foot before curving in a circle, licking up the underbrush at the edge of the clearing like a living creature, wreathing them in flames that climbed beyond twenty feet in a few seconds. The clearing was now bathed in heat, sweat breaking out on Shoto’s forehead. He scowled. It felt just like home and that alone pissed him off. He was at summer camp and he’d promised Fuyumi he would try to make friends. Now he was having to deal with this Endeavor wannabe who did almost as good a job making him angry as his own father.

“And how do you plan to get through that? You don’t look fireproof.”

Dabi tapped a finger below his left eye, a slow grin stretching across his face. “Neither do you.” Behind the villains a swirling black portal stretched into existence and Shoto felt a fresh wave of fear–there was no way they could follow if the villains took Bakugo and Tokoyami through there. There had to be a way he could stall for more time, buy time for Aizawa-sensei and the Wild puss* Cats to get here somehow.

Mr. Compress gave another deep bow, sweeping that stupid hat off of his head. “Thank you for enjoying our show, young heroes, now–”

He cut off with a yelp as a black blur slammed into him from above, sending them both tumbling several feet across the ground, Mr. Compress’s mask bouncing off along with–there!

Shoto moved, sprinting toward the two marbles that had just bounced out of the villain’s mouth onto the blackened earth as Eraserhead dodged the blood sucking girl’s knife, turning to face the villains like a feral creature, teeth bared in a snarl. Shoto had no idea where his teacher had come from or how he’d gotten through the wall of flames, but relief flooded his body, the extra adrenaline adding to the tremors already racing through him. But this fight wasn’t over yet. Shoto could endure it. He had to.

Then all hell broke loose.

Shoto snagged one marble, dark blue in color as a wall of flames erupted between him and the other, forcing him to throw up a shield of ice to keep from getting burned, the steam from his melting ice momentarily blinding him despite undoing some of the damage his ice side was doing to him with this much overuse.

Eraserhead was flashing through the villains like a nightmarish shadow, Shoji and Uraraka were back to back fighting what looked like identical quintuplets in masks and the lizard man with a katana.

When the steam cleared, Dabi was staring back at him, holding the other marble between his fingers. “As much as I’d love to kill you, baby Endeavor, I’m on company time right now and we have a job to do. Compress, let them out so I can see them!”

Mr. Compress threw another marble at Eraserhead, who dodged a boulder-sized chunk of Shoto’s ice–when had he even gotten that? Tokoyami appeared at his feet, looking somewhat stunned and groggy, weakly lifting his head to stare around. Shoto slid into a ready stance–he would not let Dabi attack his friend again.

Then Bakugo was standing in front of him, Dabi’s hand firmly around his throat. The blond started to twist, palms sparking, but they abruptly stopped when Dabi growled “I can and will incinerate your throat in a second, brat. Now shut up and hold still. Don’t test me.” He raised his voice above the din. “Time to go!” Shoto’s heart began to pound again. How could he save Bakugo and protect Tokoyami at the same time?

“Rodg–” An abrupt yelp cut off Mr. Compress’s voice, and Shoto turned to see Aizawa-sensei holding a massive, wicked looking knife to the villain’s throat. The hero’s goggles were down, but Shoto could see his eyes glowing through them, voice rough and low as he panted. “Don’t move.”

Dabi whistled, roughly turning Bakugo so he was looking at Aizawa-sensei. “Damn. I didn’t think you had it in you, Eraserhead. You ever actually use that knife, hero?”

“You don’t want to find out. Now give me the kid. And you can have yours back.” Shoto didn’t dare move as Dabi co*cked his head, seeming to consider the offer from where he stood in front of the still open portal.

“You know, why don’t you keep the kid safe yourself. He is your responsibility, after all.” Shoto noticed Dabi’s eyes focus on something behind Eraserhead a second before he saw it–a hulking, massive figure with some kind of club in its hand–no, that was a body.

“Sensei!”

But Aizawa-sensei didn’t even have time to turn. The figure charged into the light of the fire like a tank, revealing a massive man covered in exposed muscle, moving far faster than a person his size should be able to, meaty fist punching Aizawa-sensei in the back, sending both him and Mr. Compress flying. In his other hand–a wave of nausea passed over Shoto–was Ragdoll, limp and unmoving as she was dragged across the ground.

“Muscular. You’re late.” Muscular shrugged, baring bloody teeth in an unrepentant grin as he stomped forward to where Aizawa-sensei and Mr. Compress were just now peeling themselves out of a small crater, grabbing Aizawa-sensei in a rough headlock. His biceps were so large that it covered the hero’s whole face. Eraserhead’s legs thrashed, the knife embedding itself deep in Muscular’s shoulder, but the villain laughed, hardly even wincing.

He probably can’t breathe.

But Shoto was frozen. He couldn’t attack. Not without risking Tokoyami. He couldn’t defend. Not without letting the villains kill Aizawa-sensei and kidnap Bakugo. He was trapped. He was trapped, and Shoto could no longer hold back his panic.

“Don’t kill him. He’s more useful alive right now.” Aizawa-sensei’s struggles were beginning to get weaker. Shoto’s blood was loud in his ears, almost deafening now. Muscular shrugged.

“Fine. But you owe me extra.”

Dabi took a step into the portal, half covering him and Bakugo, who stared at Shoto, eyes boring into him. “Whatever. Take it up with the big man.”

With that, Muscular threw Ragdoll through the portal, slouching through just as Aizawa-sensei’s legs went limp. Shoto lurched forward, but Bakugo gave a muffled grunt of pain as the horrible, familiar smell of burnt flesh reached his nose. Uraraka let out what sounded like a muffled sob.

“I wouldn’t do that, baby Endeavor.” Dabi was grinning now, his voice teasing and playful, but his eyes were burning cold.

“Be a good little hero and tell the cops what happened. And what’s coming for them.”

Then he was gone, dragging Bakugo through the waiting portal.

Shoto was left staring at the darkness.

_________________

Izuku hid his yawn behind his hand as he walked behind Kurogiri, blinking sleep out of his eyes.

“Where–” Izuku’s jaw cracked around a yawn as he took a few more hurried steps to catch up with Kurogiri’s long strides, “where are we going?”

It was just before six in the morning, and the halls of the compound, empty on a good day, were ghostly silent. There was a small, still sleepy part of him that was tempted to take Kurogiri’s hand like he had when he was very small and Kurogiri had woken him up to take him to breakfast before he learned the halls of the compound. Those early mornings, filled with a soft kind of silence that was only broken by his eager questions about Kurogiri’s quirk or whatever topic happened to interest him that day, were treasured memories in his otherwise turbulent childhood. Sometimes, if he had been too sleepy or if it was winter and the floors were cold, Kurogiri picked him up and carried him.

“Your father asked to speak with you before he begins work for the day.”

Izuku’s sleepiness evaporated in an instant and he swallowed, wishing he’d taken the time to drink some water now. He supposed he should be grateful that Dad was acknowledging his existence again after the USJ incident, but Izuku had found, over the years, that too much attention from his father was almost never a good thing–the years of experiments to see if he had inherited his father’s quirk, the easy conversations about heroes that quickly turned into lectures that Izuku could not refute despite his best efforts; his father’s attention was a double edged sword.

“Oh…okay.”

They walked in silence for a time, and Izuku’s anxiety increased with each step as they passed through the white walled room and into the nomu experimentation chamber. Sensei was not there. Neither was the doctor. And now that he thought about it, it was strange that they were walking at all when Kurogiri’s quirk was Warp Gate.

Kurogiri crossed the nomu experimentation room, leading him down a long hallway on the left side of the circular chamber, lit by sickly greenish-white light, finally coming to a halt at the top of a long stairway that overlooked a cavernous room with two rows of large clear-walled boxes, each with a metal door, facing one another with an aisle in between them. Izuku could see the fine grey silk of his father’s second favorite suit at the end of the row where the room turned a corner and the boxes ran out of Izuku’s sight, standing with his back to them.

Kurogiri’s hand settled on his shoulder, and Izuku looked up in surprise. “I have been instructed to wait here, Midoriya Izuku. Please go speak with your father.”

Izuku waited another second, but Kurogiri did not move, so he took a step forward, the nomu’s hand falling away. “Okay…thanks Kurogiri.”

Kurogiri nodded, eyes fixed on Sensei down below.

Soft alarm bells were beginning to sound in the back of his mind, but Izuku knew from experience that he couldn’t hide in the compound from his father, so he swallowed thickly and gingerly picked his way down the stairs. His footsteps felt loud, but Sensei didn’t turn. He stayed, standing as still as a statue, as Izuku reached the bottom of the stairs and slowly approached.

Now that he was on the floor, the large clear boxes towered over him, small lights embedded in the door glowing green, a panel just the size for a hand was set underneath each one. Cells. Izuku realized as he glanced into one, only a few boxes down from his father now. These are cells. His palms were sweating, heart drumming fearfully inside his chest–thankfully the cells he passed were empty, but why did Sensei want to speak to him down here?

“Izuku.” Sensei’s voice was calm. It was too calm. Too measured. The alarm bells in Izuku’s head were screaming now as he froze in his tracks, afraid to get closer without permission.

“Good morning, Sensei.” Izuku managed to keep his voice mostly steady, thankful it hadn’t betrayed him yet. It would only put Sensei in a worse mood than he clearly already was in.

“Do you know why I wanted to speak with you?” Sensei still hadn’t turned, or given him permission to approach, so Izuku stayed where he was. He’d played this game with Sensei before–where he was supposed to understand something he was missing or face the consequences of his own ignorance. “Well?”

Izuku flinched. This was one of the worst moods he’d seen his father in for a long time. It wasn’t often Sensei prompted him for an answer when less than ten seconds had passed. “I–no, Sensei. I’m sorry.”

Sensei turned, clasping his hands behind his back. “Come here, son.” Izuku stumbled forward without hesitation, coming to stand in front of his father. Sensei laid a heavy hand on his shoulder, fingers just curling around Izuku’s neck on the other side. “When I give you instructions, Izuku, it’s important that you listen to me. Not go off and make your own plans. People can get hurt that way. In fact, someone almost died because of your actions. I’m very disappointed in you, son.”

Izuku stared up at Sensei, feeling very cold and very small all of the sudden. A high pitched ringing was filling his ears, the very air in his lungs seeming to freeze. It was hard to think around the blind panic nipping at the edges of his mind. Who had almost died? What was–

All conscious thought ground to an abrupt halt as Sensei turned away again, this time steering Izuku in front of him and he finally saw what Sensei had been looking at.

Eraserhead.

The blood drained from Izuku’s face as the hero, who was slumped against the back wall of the cell, raised his head to look at him, face blank, black eyes boring into his. Sensei’s hand tightened around his neck and shoulders and Izuku stopped breathing.

“Now, what do you have to say to Eraserhead, Izuku?”

The hero was still staring directly at him. One side of his face was mottled with bruises, and his right arm was cradled protectively against his chest. When…when did this happen? How long…

“I–I’m sorry.” The words tumbled out of him from numb lips as Izuku desperately tried to keep himself from collapsing then and there. Sensei had Eraserhead who was alive and not dead. Sensei knew what Izuku had tried to do at the USJ.

Sensei did not lose.

The hand around Izuku’s neck tightened painfully, pushing down slowly as Sensei forced him into a low bow, holding him there. “Sorry for what, Izuku?”

“I’m–I’m sorry for trying to k–kill you, Eraserhead.”

Tears began to slip down Izuku’s nose, dripping onto the floor, but he didn’t dare raise his head to look at Eraserhead.
He had been a fool.

A childish, naive fool.

Sensei did not lose.

Chapter 13: Chapter 13

Chapter Text

“Please excuse my son’s rudeness, Eraserhead, it won’t happen again. Will it, Izuku?”

A strange buzzing seemed to have filled Izuku’s head–it wasn’t that he couldn’t think, but that there were so many panicked thoughts and feelings crowding his mind that they created a static backdrop of thrumming, all-consuming horror. He started to shake his head, not daring to contradict Sensei right now, but the hand around his neck was like an iron vice. So his father wanted to hear it out loud, then.

“N-no, Sensei.” The words were barely above a whisper, but to Izuku they rang with the finality of a death sentence. His back and neck were twinging painfully from holding the bow, but still Sensei didn’t let him straighten.

“What was that?” There was a dangerous edge to his voice now, only sending Izuku’s panic to a new level as he heard the unspoken message. Not good enough.

“It won’t–” Izuku’s mouth twisted in a grimace when Sensei’s fingers dug into his neck. His voice would hardly obey him, the hand around his neck making it difficult to swallow as he forced himself to speak more loudly. He had to. He had to because Sensei would not relent until he got what he wanted. And he always did–it was just a question of how much pain Izuku would choose before giving in to him.“It won’t happen a–again, Sensei.”

Izuku stumbled as Sensei abruptly pulled him straight again, but he didn’t raise his head to look at Eraserhead. He had just admitted to his hero that he’d tried to murder him in cold blood, and if the hero was now looking at him like the villain he was, Izuku was certain he would start openly sobbing.

Even so, he couldn’t stop the tears leaking silently out of the corners of his eyes as Sensei steered him back toward the doorway without further comment. He clenched his fists to keep them from trembling, slowly losing the battle to keep his all-consuming terror at bay. What had he done? This was all his fault and there was nothing he could do to save anyone now.

Kurogiri was standing at the top of the stairs just to the right of the doorway, hands clasped behind his back. Izuku remembered vividly how he’d used to internally beg anyone, anything to take him away from Sensei when he’d first started lessons when he was small–he’d managed to dull that wish over the years because it had only made things more painful. But now, meeting Kurogiri’s eyes, Izuku was violently thrust back to those early moments.

You know I cannot disobey your father any more than you can, Midoriya Izuku. Now come, your father values punctuality. We should not be late. After you finish your lessons, I will take you to the park.

Ou–outside, really?

Yes. I promise.

Kurogiri was exactly where Izuku had left him a few minutes before. He now watched Izuku, as still as a statue. Something about seeing him there made the tears fall thicker and faster. It was getting harder to control his breathing.

Something.

Anything.

He didn’t want this.

Sensei paused. “Kurogiri.”

“Yes, Master?”

“Is there a reason you’re standing around and not informing the doctor of our updated schedule for this week?”

There was a brief silence as Kurogiri tilted his head slightly, as if considering the question. His eyes flickered in such a way that Izuku had learned to read as confusion–he’d seen it often as a child when he asked particularly convoluted questions about Warp Gate. Finally, the nomu answered evenly, “I apologize for the delay. I will inform him now.”

Sensei was still for a moment before driving Izuku forward, never letting go. A moment later Izuku heard the telltale rush of one of Kurogiri’s portals opening and closing before all was silent again, leaving Izuku alone with his father. He stumbled again as Sensei’s hand abruptly withdrew, whipping around anxiously to watch his father and tripping over his own feet, almost falling. Sensei sighed.

“Keep walking, Izuku. We need to have a chat.”

____________________

“Report on the hour. These villains are considered extremely dangerous and no contact is to be made with backup. That’s all for now. I leave the specifics of your investigations up to you.”

The briefing room cleared rapidly as the heroes and sidekicks split off to plan individual operations in the hunt to find Shota, Ragdoll, and Bakugo. It was an impressive line up. All Might. Endeavor. Kamui Woods. Gang Orca. Just to name a few of the major players. Any regular villains would be found and apprehended within a few hours. Two days at most.

But Tenko knew these were not regular villains.

With Kurogiri’s Warp Gate, the hideout could be anywhere, hence the scale of the operation and calling in heroes from the surrounding cities.

No, these were not regular villains. And if Sensei really was behind all of this there was a likelihood that there would be decoys, false trails…anything to throw them off of his scent. He may not have been with Sensei for more than a couple years, but he had learned a lot in that time period. Watching and observing how his former master didn’t just rule the underbelly of society–he shaped it to suit his goals. That’s the kind of villains they were hunting.

Hizashi was talking to Nedzu by the door in an uncharacteristically low voice, gesturing intently while the principal patiently listened. He could guess what it was about.

“What do you mean you aren’t allowing me to join the search that’s—you can’t bench me!”

“Mic, please. You’ll get yourself killed like this, and we can’t afford to lose more heroes right now so–”

“More heroes? Just what do you mean by ‘more heroes,’ this is a rescue mission not a recovery! And another–”

“Yamada. Nobody’s implying that. I’m sorry, but this isn’t up for debate. We’re only letting you know this much because you’re a hero and know both victims. But you’re too close for this. Sit down.”

Tenko was relieved that Tsukauchi had put his foot down. Hizashi looked terrible–deep bags under his eyes, voice strained with frantic energy and cracking occasionally as he tried to keep his quirk under control. He really would get himself killed if he went out searching right now.

Frankly, Tenko was mildly surprised he was also being called in on the case given his most recent interactions with the Hero Commission and personal ties to the investigation. However, given his connections to the underground, he couldn’t say he was too shocked–he worked out of the limelight fairly often, mostly on raids and strike teams. He was also friendly with several vigilantes in the area he’d run across during his time as a student. And he knew how this particular group of villains thought, or at least how that had operated at one time, which was more than anyone knew.

That would be why Tsukauchi brought him on–for both his contacts and his efficiency when it came to breaching villain hide outs. Locked doors didn’t mean a lot when you could disintegrate the wall or ceilings, and dust didn’t make a lot of noise when it fell, so the element of surprise wasn’t lost. It was one of the reasons he did a lot of underground team ups.

But what concerned Tenko was the complete lack of protest from the Commission after their veiled accusations from the mall incident. It would make sense if they tried to keep him off the case entirely if they were trying to question his competence using Izuku and the League of Villains. This was one of the times they actually had a chance of getting their way, too.

So why had they gone silent?

Because there’s someone they hate more than me. Someone they need me to bring in.

Or to bait out.

Sensei.

Tenko frowned. As much as he hated the fact that he was caught in some kind of scheme surrounding the Hero Commission, he would play along if it meant he could save Shota and the others. If it gave him a chance to find Izuku and make sure that monster never touched another human being, Tenko could stand to be used this once.

If Sensei was alive…what would happen to Shota? Or Ragdoll for that matter. Why had the pros been taken and not simply killed? Tenko could take a guess. But he really, really hoped he was wrong.

He stood, heading for the door. He couldn’t keep standing around. There was too much at stake.

“We need to act fast, if it is him then our window of recovery is much smaller.” Tsukauchi was speaking in a low voice as he accompanied Toshinori toward the door in front of him. Tenko’s eyes narrowed. They were the last ones in the room now, the others having filtered out.

That was another strange thing about this whole investigation briefing–not once had Sensei been mentioned. Only the villains sighted at the USJ and those involved in the summer camp had been named. Sensei made this mission deadly. The very existence of the nomu and Izuku’s own affirmation provided more than enough evidence to caution those involved in this, but Tsukauchi hadn’t said anything.

Why?

“You didn’t name the villain who’s actually the mastermind behind all this. Why?” Both Tsukauchi and Toshinori froze, turning around to face Tenko, who frowned as the two older men exchanged a glance. Finally, Tsukauchi spoke.

“Tenko, there’s no concrete confirmation it’s actually the villain that kidnapped you–”

“There’s enough to tell the other acting heroes on the case so they can be cautious, so why didn’t you?” Toshinori shifted uncomfortably, looking away from Tenko’s glare. He was rubbing the back of his neck in the way he always did when he was uncomfortable.

“Tenko, my boy, there’s a very good reason this villain has been kept secret from the public and even from other heroes to a certain extent—”

“The villain? Sensei, you mean.” Tenko crossed his arms, anger starting to build alongside his confusion. “Why won’t you even say his name? It’s not like…that’s not his name, is it.” It wasn’t a question, not with Toshinori’s shoulders drooping like they held the weight of the world and Tsukauchi’s white knuckled grip on his clipboard. In all his years he had somehow never considered that Sensei was anything but, well, Sensei. But it made sense.

Tenko stared between the two of them, waiting for someone to speak and finally explain what the hell was going on. Finally Toshinori shook his head.

“No, it’s not. This villain has been kept a secret from the public because the knowledge of what he can do would cause mass panic. People flocking to him. People running away. It would be chaos.”

Tenko swallowed. He knew Sensei was dangerous and powerful, and until recently, he’d thought his old captor dead. This villain.

“What’s his name?”

Toshinori sighed, shaking his head. “Tenko it’s not—”

“Not what? Not that simple? Not meant for my young ears? What’s not simple about this?” Tenko fought to keep his voice down, the tension and fear he was tightly controlling rising to the surface in white hot anger that rapidly built. Shota was missing. A hero student had been kidnapped as an asset by Sensei’s men. Izuku was trapped with them. Sensei had personally groomed Tenko to be a killer. So why was he not even allowed to know Sensei’s real name?

“Have you forgotten what my purpose as a child was? You know what he did to me. And what he can do to people. Now two pro heroes and a hero student have all been kidnapped in connection to the same damn villain and you failed to mention Sensei at all in the briefing and now you won’t even tell me his real name?”

“Tenko, it’s been made fully confidential. The records are sealed by the Hero Commission, you can’t just–”

Toshinori cut off Tsukauchi just as Tenko opened his mouth furiously. “Stop.”

Tsukauchi clamped his mouth shut, glancing tensely between Tenko and All Might. A years old, nameless fear trickled down Tenko’s spine, joining the anger and confusing him even more. What was it he did not know? Why was he afraid?

“Tell me his name, Toshinori.”

Toshinori blew out a long breath, a deep, aching sadness clearly visible in his eyes, bleeding into his voice as he said heavily, “All For One.” He gestured toward the briefing table. “Sit down, Tenko. I think it’s time we had a conversation.”

_____________________

“I have tried to educate you in more than math and reading, Izuku, but it seems we have come upon a failure of mine as a teacher because clearly you have not retained a word I have said regarding responsibility. Sit down.” Sensei pointed to a hard metal chair next to the table with the metal straps in the nomu workshop.

Izuku stared, no longer able to repress the trembling in his limbs as he attempted to unglue himself from the floor and do as he was told.

Sensei’s sharp voice spurred him into action. “I said sit down, Izuku, or are you also incapable of following basic directions now?”

“N–no, Sensei!”

Izuku lurched forward, all but collapsing into the chair, painfully hitting his shin on the seat and biting his lip to keep the yelp from slipping out. Sensei loomed over him, hands clasped calmly behind his back, but Izuku knew better. The waves of anger rolling off of his father were suffocating. After a few moments of staring into Sensei’s face Izuku’s eyes fell to the floor, head bowed.

There was no one on this planet who could save him from his father’s anger. Sensei knew what he’d tried to do.

There was another sigh above him, modulated by the oxygen mask his father wore.

“Izuku, I have tried to be patient with you as you find your footing. I have tried to keep the hardships that come with being my son from you, but it’s time you started to look at the facts as they are. Even if you were to simply go out to the heroes and beg them for mercy, they would lock you away in Tartarus simply for being my son. Quirk or not. They will keep you chained like an animal at the bottom of the ocean for existing.”

Izuku hunched his shoulders, a muffled, treacherous sob slipping out from his lips before he clamped them shut again.Sensei continued like he hadn’t made a sound.

“Society sees you as less than human, son. It labels people as heroes worth praising. It labels people as villains who should be locked away. And it labels people like you as nothing at all. That is a simple fact, Izuku. Hero. Villain. It doesn’t matter because all you will ever be to them is nothing.”

Another sob ripped its way out of Izuku’s throat as he hunched over further, sucking in deep breaths. He couldn’t come up with the words to contradict Sensei if he wanted to. He did want to. He did. He did but every shadowy fear that had only grown as he’d gotten older was abruptly given shape with each word Sensei spoke, putting substance behind the fears that had stalked him for years now.

Quirkless.

Deku.

“Izuku, look at me.” He had to obey Sensei. That was simply another fact of his life. Still, it took Izuku what felt like ages to lift his head and realize with a start that his father was kneeling in front of him. His voice was surprisingly gentle when he spoke again.

“Your only chance of ever being anything, is if you take the reins yourself and reform society itself.” Izuku barely suppressed a flinch as Sensei reached out and gently cupped his cheek. It should be comforting, a father’s touch. But Izuku froze underneath it like a rabbit spotted by a hawk, unable to move, unable to tear his gaze away from his father’s face as he continued to speak so gently that it frightened him straight out of crying. “There is a responsibility that comes with being born as someone like you and put into the position you are in, son. It’s time you learned that, because clearly thus far you haven’t been hearing me.”

Izuku opened his mouth, soundlessly trying to find words to…he wasn’t sure what he was trying to do, a maelstrom of emotion swirling inside his chest, but no sound escaped the storm inside him. His father was right. No, he was wrong! But what if he wasn’t?

Winning was never an option. Sensei never loses.

I would do it again, this time properly if I could.

I wish I was strong enough to be more.

There’s a monster with Dad’s face here. Had he always been a monster?

What did that make Izuku?

Someone. Anyone.

Anything.

Anywhere.

Then Dad leaned forward, arms wrapping around Izuku, one hand cradling the back of his head as he was tugged into an embrace, his forehead resting on the soft silk of Dad’s suit.

It smelled like formaldehyde and lilies, the sharp, sweet scent filling his nostrils as he breathed shakily against his father, stunned.

Never once in the eleven years since he came to live with his father had Dad hugged him like this. Not once. Not like this. Not like he was…not like a father.

“Izuku,” Dad’s voice was right next to his ear. “I want you to think long and hard about what you did wrong, and where you can do better in the future.”

The base of Izuku’s skull was tingling faintly, almost like there was something vibrating just where his neck and head met. He tried to pull back, to bring a hand up to touch the spot, but Dad held him fast, arms pinned in the embrace against his chest.

“You disobeyed me, I have to punish you. But this is also a gift. I expect you to put it to good use.”

A fresh shot of terror lanced through Izuku at the same time the vibrating went from strange to white hot agony shooting under his skin, down his spine, into his skull. Someone was crying, wordless, choked noises of agony as his father’s suit darkened with tears he could not see beyond the reddish lighting dancing across his eyes. If he was not held so tightly, Izuku knew, distantly, that he would be seizing on the floor.

Sensei did not move, holding Izuku as if he were no more than an infant as the pain went from white hot to unbearable, as if he was being torn limb from limb and then sewn together again with a hot needle. Even his father’s quiet, even voice in his ear sent more shockwaves of pain through him in the final straw to cut his mind from his body, as his senses overloaded. He only dimly heard the actual words Sensei spoke before his consciousness gave out.

“You know I do not lightly give second chances. Do not disappoint me, son.”

_____________________

To say Shota was confused would be an understatement. To say he was angry would also be inaccurate. Losing his damn mind would be the closest estimate, but he couldn’t focus on that because if he did he was not going to be able to function. To think.

His memories of the fight before Muscular had taken him out were fuzzy at best, but he remembered all too clearly that he had not been able to get Bakugo away from Dabi, and the kid was nowhere to be seen, which only terrified him more because if they were separated then there really was nothing he could do to protect the kid, even if they were both prisoners.

In fact, he hadn’t seen anyone until the villain in a suit had shown up an hour ago shortly after he’d woken, greeting him calmly and asking for his patience for a few minutes. Why, he did not say. Shota didn’t ask, either, some deep, wary instinct warning him that even talking to this villain was a dangerous game. Better to let him show his hand first and go from there–and something told him demanding information would be useless anyway.

When a young voice just out of Shota’s line of vision spoke up, greeting the villain as Sensei, Shota got two answers. One, that the villain Tenko went on about the other day was in fact very much alive, and two, that Izuku was most likely his biological son after this Sensei responded to the kid.

A second later he was face to face with the kid himself, his would-be killer’s face draining of all color the second their eyes met, freezing with the older villain’s hand resting posessively around his shoulders. Izuku looked…terrible. Underweight, his skin unhealthy and waxy, pale even without the panic now coloring the green eyes before him, lank black hair, frizzy and messy hung about his head.

What he was panicking about, Shota wasn’t sure–then Sensei forced the kid into a low bow, and the choked apology that tumbled out of the kid’s lips only served to deepen his confusion. This villain seemed to have wanted him alive from the beginning. Which meant that a major villain was not only aware of him, but had been actively trying to capture him for an unknown amount of time for reasons he did not know. And Izuku had apparently gone rogue, against his Sensei’s orders, and tried to kill him? Why?

Why did this kid want him dead?

What disturbed him even more were the tears that started splashing onto the ground as Izuku hung his head, not looking at Shota even when his father pulled him back upright, spinning the two of them around and heading back toward what he presumed was the exit. Shota wished he would have, if only to try and put together a clearer picture of what exactly was going on here.

Something was wrong.

Shota had spent years in the underground. Hell, he’d taken undercover assignments that sent him into the criminal underbelly of Mustafu for months, and all of those instincts, borne from his interactions as both a hero on the outside and his observations from the inside of villain groups, were telling him that something was just off here.

Izuku had not tried to deny that he’d attempted to murder Shota, so that ruled out the possibility that it was unintentional, and it also implied that the kid’s plan was premeditated. He had set out with the intention of killing Shota against the wishes of the mastermind villain and had been found out.

The horror and terror that crossed the kid’s face could be explained by a subordinate’s disobedience being uncovered by a superior–Shota had seen enough to know family bonds did not often protect from a boss’s wrath. That was the most logical explanation to Izuku’s reaction.

Operating under that theory, Izuku had gone against Sensei’s will and tried to kill Shota for reasons apparently unknown to anyone but himself. Whatever hatred of heroes Izuku’s father had curated in him (as he must have given Tenko’s state upon rescue) had tipped into bloodlust, and he had acted of his own accord at the USJ to kill Shota, or potentially any pro there. Sensei had found out and decided to put a stop to it by calling the boy down to see Shota alive and breathing. A display of power and a warning against future disobedience.

The fear could easily be explained merely from the fact that this Sensei was clearly a major villain, and Shota knew a thing or two about the ruthlessness with which villain syndicates were run. The tears were just a byproduct and indicator of just how much of an iron fist this Sensei character ruled his little kingdom with.

That fear could easily, logically, be explained.

It looked simple, on the surface.

But in the brief moments where the kid met his eyes, something closer to devastation and guilt had crossed his face. He hadn’t just been afraid for himself, Shota realized with an abrupt start. He had been afraid for Shota.

Shota dropped his head back against the cell wall, closing his eyes against the aching in his head, replaying the scene in his mind. The more he thought about it, the more certain he became that he was correct in both of his assumptions–that Izuku was afraid of his father to the point of triggering a freeze response in the kid, and that said teenager was also terrified on Shota’s behalf.

But he was equally certain that the same teenager had plotted Shota’s own death, and it had been neatly executed in such a way that, without some luck and the wildcard of his idiot students’ lack of survival instincts, would have been an execution.

So why?

Quiet, slow footsteps alerted Shota to the presence of someone else coming into the prison room, and he tensed. Should he open his eyes? Should he pretend to be asleep and see if he could learn something that might help him get out of here or find Bakugo?

Before Shota could make up his mind, the soft hydraulic hiss of a door opening startled him enough that he cracked an eye to case out who was near him–only to open both eyes and stare.

Kurogiri was kneeling in the cell directly next to Shota’s, settling–despite his conflicted feelings, Shota’s heart skipped a beat. Izuku was limp, eyes closed, flushed feverish cheeks sweaty, his chest was rising and falling far faster than it should be, each disturbing detail easily visible through the clear walls of the cell. Shota sat up straighter, watching as Kurogiri gently arranged the teenager's limbs before putting a small glass of water nearby on the floor, just out of range for if the kid moved at all in his unconscious state and knocked it over.

It had been less than an hour since the kid and Sensei left him, and while Izuku had been crying and generally did not look healthy, he hadn’t been…whatever this was. Fevered. Sick.

“What did you do to him?” The words were out before he could really think better of them, but one way or another Shota needed to start getting answers and forming a plan on how to get out of here before he found out why exactly this Sensei villain hadn’t killed him yet. And for some reason, Izuku was inextricably tied to why Shota was here.

Kurogiri finished tucking the boy’s arms close to his chest, leaving Izuku with one hand on his heart and the other stretched out straight before turning to stare at Shota, silent for a very long moment.

“It is good to see that Muscular’s treatment did not damage your vocal cords. Your silence was concerning.”

Shota blinked, frowning. He hadn’t met Kurogiri personally, but he knew the villain had intended to torture his students to death–so why was he handling the unconscious boy beside him with that much care or commenting on Shota’s health? He could feel the familiar bubbling pit of anger in his stomach whenever he considered the attack on his students, but Shota was a professional for a reason, and he would not give them anything to read him by if he could help it. All the same, he didn’t bother to hide the coldness in his flat tone.

“You didn’t answer my question. What happened to the kid? If you’re just going to kill me, why was he punished for trying first?”

It was a gamble. Shota didn’t think they actually wanted him dead and didn’t particularly want to give them any ideas just in case, but he was at a steep disadvantage when these villains held all the cards and he was grasping at straws.

Kurogiri stood, walking over to the shared wall dividing Izuku’s cell from Shota’s and looking down at Shota, unblinking, hands clasped neatly behind his back. “I believe that we are both aware that death is not in your immediate future. You are simply in an advantageous position that allows you to partake in a part of Midoriya Izuku’s education. You are an excellent teacher, are you not?”

“I’m not looking for a third job.”

Kurogiri did not seem bothered by the rude response. “It is not my place to question my master’s hiring decisions.”

Shota opened his mouth again, patience wearing thin, to just demand to know where Bakugo was and what this Sensei villain wanted when Izuku stirred faintly on the ground behind them, a soft, pained noise slipping out of his mouth, one hand clenching before relaxing again, slowly unfurling. The boy did not wake.

Shota looked back up to find Kurogiri staring intently at him, almost like he was looking straight through him. It was unsettling.

“I think we will work well together, Aizawa Shota.”

Before Shota could formulate a response, Kurogiri opened one of the increasingly familiar swirling portals of mist and stepped through, leaving Shota with far more questions than he’d had previously, and none of the answers he’d hoped for.

Damn it.

His eyes fell back to Izuku in the neighboring cell, mercilessly shoving down the rising concern for the unconscious teen. Regardless of whether or not he was a victim, the kid had not denied he’d tried to kill him, and by extension the students Shota had sworn to protect. He could not afford to slip up and put his kids in more danger just because there was one villain kid who cried when his father exposed his plans for murder.

It wasn’t logical.

Izuku shifted again, and Shota caught the glint of still drying tear tracks when his brow furrowed with pain.

Something wasn’t right here.

Damn it.

_____________________

He was hot. Far, far too hot to be this cold and clammy, with his dry throat sticking to itself with each painful inhale. What happened? Izuku blinked, wincing as crusty sleep pulled painfully at his eyelashes, and when he did manage to get them open all he could do was peer at the blurry, formless world around him, colors running together.

He was so hot. His whole body ached, his neck in particular throbbed with an unfamiliar, bone deep pain that frightened him–Izuku knew a lot of different kinds of pain, but this was entirely foreign and it was wrong in a way he couldn’t place in his jumbled mind.

It had been Sensei…he’d made Sensei angry again. No, not again. It had been far worse than normal.

Was he angry that I couldn't take it again?

No…no that was years ago, before Sensei had finally accepted that he could not be forced into a quirk manifestation.

He was so hot. Izuku felt tears prickling at the edges of his vision. He wanted to wipe them off, but even breathing was painful, each muscle between every rib screaming in protest. It was better to stay still. That was safer. Just until he could understand what he’d done wrong…

Eraserhead.

Izuku stopped breathing for a second as the name floated across his mind–that’s right. Sensei found out he’d tried to kill Eraserhead, because Sensei never loses. Fighting him was pointless, because Sensei could not be beaten. He was a deku and his father…he wasn’t a god, but Izuku was powerless to oppose him.

He blinked again. Even his eyes felt dry and hot, too large for their sockets, and he was so thirsty. One more sandpapery blink and the world focused just enough that he could vaguely make out that he was lying on a cool, smooth floor. A few feet away, there was a cup, but nothing else in his line of vision.

Where was he? Everything beyond a few feet away was still blurry and confused. Trying to focus his eyes sent stabs of pain through his eyes, and Izuku winced, squeezing them shut until the pain passed.

He was so thirsty. And hot.

The mantra kept floating through his head, increasing in desperation with each pass. Izuku had been sick before–he’d been so sick that Kurogiri had not left his bedside for more than a few minutes at a time as a kid once. But even when he’d woken up alone there had always been a glass of water or a juice box in reach in case he was…the cup.

Kurogiri.

That must be where the cup beside him came from. If it was from Kurogiri and not the doctor or his father then it was safe…he could drink it without being afraid of what else might be inside.

He was so hot. And so cold.

And so thirsty.

Gritting his aching teeth, Izuku stretched out an arm, muffling a whimper as his entire body protested at the movement, putting all of his effort into moving it and grasping the cup, trembling with the effort of fully extending the limb–the cup was about six inches too far from his fingers.

He stared in dismay. He couldn’t reach it. He couldn’t reach it and even moving his arm had hurt. And he was so hot. And his throat ached like he had been screaming, raw and painful and dry. And the cup was too far away.

The tears gathering in his eyes stung as Izuku stared at the cup, sitting just out of his reach. He distantly thought maybe he had more things to worry about than a drink of water, but the only clear thought he could seem to hold onto in his fevered state was that it hurt and that the cup could make it stop because he was so thirsty and cups usually held water.

He just needed to reach it.

It was so close if he could just grasp the edge and pull it to him.

If he could just–

With a soft scraping noise, the cup slid the six inches into his hand, cool water sloshing over the side onto his hot fingers.

Izuku froze.

“Mama, Mama do it again!” Izuku bounced in the chair he was standing, almost tipping it over in his eagerness. Mama was making lunch and he was helping because that’s what heroes do, and if he got to eat the extra berries that rolled across the counter when Mama washed them then that was neither here nor there.

Mama laughed brightly, looking down at where Izuku was eagerly clutching onto her elbow to stop himself from falling over. “Okay, ready, go!”

She wiggled her fingers, not looking away from Izuku as the bowl of rice for their onigiri slid all the way down the kitchen counter and into Mama’s outstretched hand.

Izuku cheered.

Izuku’s heartbeat was suddenly loud in his ears as he stared at the cup in his hand.

No.

“Do you think when I get my quirk I-I’ll get Pull too, Mama? I want to use it like you to save people too! I–I wanna be a hero, just like All Might!”

Mama pulled him closer in their blanket fort, rubbing their foreheads together.

“I think no matter what you get, you’ll be my hero.”

No no no.

No he was imagining things.

He had a fever.

“A one car accident?” The officers were speaking quietly, over Izuku’s head to a man in a trench coat like he could not hear them. He hugged his All Might plush closer. He was scared. Where was Mama? “Apparently she was coming home from a double shift at Mustafu general…there’s not a lot of the car left. It went off the road and into the gully.”

“How old is the kid?”

“He just turned four a couple weeks ago. I got in contact with his father, a Midoriya Hisashi. Says he’ll come pick him up now since he was on a business trip in the area. I’ll wait with him until then.”

The air around Izuku felt thin, his chest heaving in a fruitless attempt to bring relief to his burning lungs.

He was quirkless.

Please, he was quirkless.

He was a deku.

Please no.

“I expect you to put it to good use.”

There was only one way Sensei could have gotten that quirk.

It was never an accident.

Chapter 14: Chapter 14

Chapter Text

About two hours after Kurogiri left the unconscious teenager in the cell, Izuku stirred, his pained whimper alerting Shota to the fact from where he still sat on the opposite wall. He’d thought about coming closer to keep an eye on the kid, but there wasn’t a lot he could do with the clear wall between them, and Shota also didn’t want to scare the sh*t out of the kid if he woke up to a stranger looming over him. He had hunch that the glass was tempered to contain most quirks, but he didn’t see the thin metal band that was cold against his own wrist suppressing his quirk on Izuku.

The fact that Shota was wearing one at all was proof that the glass may not block emitter type quirks, and he did not want to risk startling a groggy teenager and getting hit by an unknown quirk.

So he sat silently, watching as the kid rolled onto his side, hazily blinking reddish, teary eyes like he was trying to focus on his surroundings. He did not seem to notice Shota ten feet away on the opposite wall of the neighboring cell. His throat was working like he was having trouble swallowing, rhythmic shivers wracking his frame every so often.

Confusion and dawning fear flitted over his unguarded face–it bothered Shota to see just how naked the kid’s expressions were. They’d been that way before, too, and it either meant that the Izuku was exceptionally talented at hiding his emotions behind a well-crafted facade that would gain him sympathy or cause an opponent to underestimate him, or, he really did lack a poker face entirely, and the frightened, miserable window into the kid’s emotions he’d gotten then and was getting now was genuine.

Shota was inclined to think that at least in this moment, Izuku was not trying to manipulate anything–the kid barely seemed aware of himself, much less Shota or any of his surroundings. He doubted the teen realized where he was just yet. Whatever this Sensei did to the kid messed him up–this screamed that it wasn’t some normal torturous physical punishment that you could expect in a villain’s lair. No, something else had happened too. And there wasn’t a mark on him, which raised the hairs on the back of Shota’s neck. What quirk did this Sensei have?

After a long moment Izuku’s eyes focused on the cup and he reached out a sluggish, trembling hand toward it, face twisted with pain and then crumpling in despair when his fingers fell short of it.

Shota almost winced too, but then the cup slid the last few inches into the kid’s hand.

Interesting. So he had some kind of telekinesis quirk, then. Well that was one question answered. Not so quirkless after all.

Despite having finally achieved his goal, Izuku lay on the floor, seemingly frozen, staring at the cup with a slowly dawning expression of abject horror, mouth hanging open. Shota frowned, leaning forward. Was the cup empty or something?

No. No he could see the water still sloshing over the sides from the momentum of being pulled, but still the kid didn’t move, gaze fixed on the cup like he expected it to explode, chest heaving.

There was a glassy, almost unseeing sheen to his eyes, which were blown wide and leaking tears now, the green a barely visible ring around his pupils. Whatever he was seeing, it wasn’t in front of him.

Deciding this was going nowhere good, Shota called out quietly, “Hey, kid, you in there?”

Izuku didn’t react, his gaze still fixed on the cup in his hand. His chest, in sharp contrast to a few moments earlier, was totally still. If not for the minute trembling in the white knuckled hand clasped around the cup, Shota would have thought he had died.

Something wasn’t right here.

“Kid?” Shota grit his teeth against the throbbing of his dislocated shoulder and scooted across his cell to their shared wall. It looked like Izuku was having some kind of panic attack, or, a dark thought slid across Shota’s head, there was internal damage from whatever his father had done to him. “Hey, kid, can you breathe?”

Izuku was still for another second, and Shota’s worry rose another level–if he really couldn’t breathe there was nothing he could do here except watch this kid die. Then, like the shattering of glass, Izuku scrambled away from the cup in a hurricane of motion, hurling himself into the dividing wall with a thud on shaky legs that gave out the instant his back met the cell wall.

He was shaking his head back and forth rapidly, and Shota could faintly hear soft murmurs that simply sounded like the kid was repeating “no” to himself over and over again as he slumped against the wall beside Shota, drawing his knees to his chest, still watching the cup, which had tipped over in the teenager’s haste.

sh*t. Definitely a panic attack. Had he been given a hallucinogen or was this quirk based or all Izuku?

Then the upended cup rolled across the floor, knocking into the boy’s socked feet and making him flinch. A choked sob ripped its way out his chest as Izuku slid the rest of the way to the floor, curling on the ground with his back to Shota, pressed against the cell wall, the painful sounding, heart-wrenching sobs growing louder and louder until they almost drowned out the sound of Shota’s own heartbeat in his ears as he grasped at what exactly he was supposed to do.

He couldn’t touch the kid. He was stuck in the damn cell but he also couldn’t just sit here and watch. Whether or not Izuku tried to murder him and by extension the rest of Shota’s students, he couldn’t just let the teenager suffer less than a foot away from him.

sh*t.

Izuku’s sobs were now interfering with his desperate inhales, speeding up until he was hyperventilating. He was going to pass out if this kept up.

“Kid, you need to breathe.”

No response. Shota raised his voice, injecting a bit of the sternness he used when Bakugo and Todoroki got on his nerves during practical heroics. “You need to try and slow down, you’re going to pass out if you don’t.”

Still nothing.

Damn it, Shota wasn’t even sure if Izuku was hearing him. Helpless anger flashed through him as he balled his good hand into a fist and smacked it against the glass, just above the kid’s head. It wasn’t ideal, but his options were limited, and he wasn’t sure how else to get the kid’s attention that wouldn’t bring the same people who had just hurt said kid back down here.

“Izuku,” the teenager flinched at the sound of his name and the impact of Shota’s now stinging fist against the glass, “if you can hear me, just nod, kid.”

Izuku’s sobs continued unabated for a few more seconds before Shota caught the barest hint of a nod among the trembling that still wracked his too skinny frame. “That’s it, kid, good. Now I just want you to breathe in through your nose, count to five, then let it out. Got it?”

Izuku didn’t respond, but after another couple moments, the kid’s frantic breathing slowed fractionally as he gasped, gulping in shaky breaths that at least sounded like they were actually bringing in air.

“That’s good, Izuku. Keep breathing.”

He was still crying, but the frantic tension drained from his frame. Shota couldn’t quite make out his face with the glass prohibiting him from leaning over to properly check on the teen, but it seemed like the worst of it was passing. He closed his eyes for a split second, letting out his own slow breath.

sh*t. This was a mess.

He snapped his eyes back open at the barely audible, breathless voice drifting up to his ears.

“I–I’m…I–I…I–I’m s–sor–”

“Don’t push yourself to talk yet.” It came out less gently than Shota had hoped, but words weren’t his strong suit. That was Hizashi’s area of expertise, with his innate warmth that attracted people like moths. A murmured word here, and a pat there, he always seemed to know what to do or say. The small flock of students that followed him around U.A. was testament to that. Shota was competent, and he could offer support and even a shoulder to cry on if need be, but beyond that, comfort wasn’t an area of natural talent for him.

Shota sat in silence for another few minutes as Izuku’s sobs, while not dying down, simply became quieter, the boy curling further into himself. It was like he’d learned to hide it, and with at least some awareness restored, that instinct was likely kicking in. Shota’s gut twisted uncomfortably, a deep sadness and anger swirling in the pit of his stomach. Children like this were why he worked in the underground–and it hurt something deep inside of him to see the result of what happened when they weren’t found or rescued.

It really wasn’t fair. And he hated how helpless he was to make things right now. The most he could do was continue to try and keep the kid from spiraling back into whatever had set him off in the first place.

It would be most logical to press the issue now–Izuku clearly had an idea of what was going on with the mastermind villain’s plans, and he’d already tried to speak to Shota. In the state he was in, Shota would probably be able to get a lot out of him. Victim or not, hurting child or otherwise, Izuku was also skilled enough to plan and execute an attack on a pro hero, and had demonstrated marked hostility toward heroes. Shota should take advantage of this vulnerability as he would with any other villain.

That was the logical course of action.

“You know, I have three cats. Soon I’ll have four, if I can tempt the stray that lives under the jungle gym of the park next to my apartment. It’s still a little thing. Grey with blue eyes. She likes salmon.” He leaned his head against the dividing wall of the cell, pausing for a second to glance down at Izuku, who was still sobbing quietly below him. But between the sobs, there was a brief, tremulous pause, the tremors, while still shaking him, seemed infinitesimally smaller. Shota looked away again, not wanting the kid to feel watched.

“My other three are spoiled brats. Nimbus is the oldest…someone gave her to me a long time ago. They were both annoying, and both of them stole my sweaters. Nimbus still likes to drag them over the heating vent and sleep on them there.”

Izuku’s breaths were only interrupted by the occasional hiccuping sob now, so Shota kept talking. “The other two are brother and sister. Jelly and Toast. I found them behind a dumpster during a yakuza raid and put them in my capture weapon. Almost forgot they were in there until I caught the last villain and Toast fell out of it.”

He wasn’t sure how long he kept up a soft, steady flow of words, at least as constant as he could manage with the bruising around his throat making itself known. In his defense there also wasn’t much Shota could risk saying that couldn’t be used against him, and the cats seemed like the safest choice to talk about while being held prisoner and uncertain if anyone else was listening in on his one-sided conversation with the weeping teenager.

Finally, Shota realized that Izuku’s sobs had died down into quiet breaths. The teenager hadn’t turned the entire time he spoke, but Shota was fairly certain the kid had been listening, or at the very least his voice had helped the kid from spiraling further. Now, he pressed his cheek to the glass, trying to gauge if Izuku had fallen asleep. He still couldn’t see the boy’s face. Damn cell.

Izuku’s arm was thrown out, head resting on it with the other still curled close to his chest, which now moved slowly and rhythmically. It wouldn’t shock Shota in the slightest if the kid had cried himself out.

“I’ll still kill you…if I get the chance.”

Shota stiffened. Izuku’s voice was hoarse but steady. But there was no venom in it, just hollow resignation that made Shota raise an eyebrow. That didn’t sound…the conviction was there, but the desire was missing. What was Shota not seeing?

“Any particular reason you want me dead, kid?”

Izuku stiffened like he’d forgotten Shota was there in the brief period of silence.

When he didn’t answer, Shota sighed. “Look, you’ve already tried to kill me once. I think I’ve at least earned the right to know why before you take a second shot at it.”

Still no answer.

Shota blinked his heavy eyelids. He had practice waiting out stubborn teens. Wait. Heavy?

A sharp crackle of alarm went down his spine a second too late when he noticed that, around the dried blood in his nostrils, he could smell something faintly sweet in the air.

sh*t.

His eyes slid shut.

________________

Katsuki was angry. This wasn’t an uncommon occurrence, and anyone who happened to walk by the Bakugo residence on any given morning, or evening, would probably attest to the fact that it was the natural state of the household itself.

What could be said about the Bakugo family was that while tempers flared quickly, grudges were not something that stuck around for long. Sure he and the hag went at each other at least once a day to varying degrees, but then they f*cking moved on.

So yeah, Katsuki was angry a lot but he got over it and got angry about something else nine times out of ten.

But this bullsh*t? He was going to be angry about this for the rest of time and as soon as he got these restraints off he was going to blow this scarred asshole’s head off.

“You want me to join your lame ass villain club?”

Said scarred asshole snorted from where he was crouched down at eye level with Katsuki, bright blue eyes boring into his. He didn’t seem upset at all by Katsuki’s latest tirade. If anything, it felt like he was being silently laughed at, which infuriated him.

“Yeah, pretty much.”

“Fat chance you overcooked rotisserie chicken! I’m a damn hero student what makes you think I’d want to join up with you assholes in the first–”

“Izuku.” Katsuki froze for a second. Izuku? Why was Dabi on a first name basis with Deku?

“Deku? Why the f*ck would he have anything to do with–”

“According to him, you would make the best villain out of the lot. You could cause the most destruction, and besides,” Dabi co*cked his head, cold gaze growing sharply predatory, “I think he knows a bully when he sees one.”

Katsuki’s mouth was suddenly very dry. Izuku had disappeared the same day Katsuki had gone too far. Had told him to f*cking jump off a roof and nobody had heard from him since.Was that when this f*cker had picked him up? He’d been afraid that…but then he’d seen Izuku at the USJ and he’d f*cking smiled at Katsuki then gone with the villains. The first time anyone had seen him in months and he’d been smiling that infuriating self-sacrificial smile like he was still better than anyone else and crying and everything was wrong. He was one of them.

Deku was always a hero nerd. He f*cking worshipped All Might. He completely lacked a spine, but somehow he still always thought he could stand beside the best of the best without even having a damn quirk. He was…if Izuku was a villain Katsuki was going to beat it out of him himself because it wasn’t right.

But he’d said it himself. That the nerd couldn’t be a hero.

But this was wrong. It was wrong. All wrong.

Dabi’s grin widened and he reached up to clap a hand on Katsuki’s shoulder. He wished he could smack it off him. It was as cold as ice. “Really, I should be thanking you. As much as I’d like to add a few more burns so you can match your best friend, the boss wouldn’t be too happy if I damaged his son’s personal recommendation too badly. After all, you’re the reason he finally decided to join the family business. He didn’t really want to, at first, but you really did a great job of changing his mind.”

Katsuki felt his eyes widen as his breath caught. No. He fought to keep the sneer on his face as his mind raced in wild circles, around and around again. Wrong. Katsuki was a hero. “f*ck off!”

His voice cracked at the end, the burns around his throat throbbing painfully. Had he really…did Deku…Izuku…was he a villain because of Katsuki?

He was a hero. Katsuki was going to be the best hero. Like All Might. None of the extras in school had ever come close to him.

“Where…what the hell have you assholes done to him? Where is he?!”

Dabi stood, squeezing Katsuki’s shoulder painfully.

“Probably getting chewed out for trying to murder your homeroom teacher. Go big or go home I guess. Oh well. Anyway, I’m gonna wake everyone up. Stay put for me, will you?”

Katsuki barely felt the rattle of the chains around his torso and arms as Dabi stood with a smirk, slouching out of the main room of the dingy bar he’d woken in some hours before, too busy trying to think around the shock buzzing through his head.

Deku…Izuku tried to kill Aizawa-sensei? The pit of Katsuki’ stomach felt hollow, a grief he didn’t understand roiling deep inside. Wrong.

Let’s be heroes together, Kacchan!

It was all wrong.

________________

Izuku lay still, braced for Eraserhead to ask again. To demand answers that Izuku did not want to give. Did not want to speak out loud for fear of them coming true. It would make sense if his silence angered the hero. Anger would make sense right now. He’d thought that’s what it was at first when Eraserhead had ordered him to be silent as he’d frantically tried to apologize for disturbing him.

His thoughts spun slowly, sluggish and exhausted. A strange, almost comforting numbness had settled in his head like a cotton ball in a stark contrast to his earlier breakdown.

But Eraserhead.

Right. Eraserhead.

He’d talked about cats until Izuku could breathe again. It was a kindness that made tears leak out of his eyes again even as he considered it. Eraserhead really was amazing. He’d been right to think he was a real hero after all.

That’s what made the statement slip out at all, reaffirming that he would kill Eraserhead the second he got the chance. It was a promise, this time. If he got the chance. If. It was the only thing left he could offer his hero. To die while still a hero.

How much of Eraserhead would be left once Sensei was done with him?

His eyes fell back down to his hands, half-moon shaped bruises from his fingernails still imprinted on his palms.

Izuku closed his eyes.

Pull.

Sensei gave him Pull.

If he was not so drained from his initial breakdown, Izuku might have started sobbing again, but as it was now, all he could do was open and close his hands a few times, stiff fingers only partially obeying him. Sensei had offered, several times even threatened him with a quirk over the years, but until now he had managed to avoid it. It would give Sensei even more power than he already had over him. And he didn’t want quirks he’d watched stolen again and again since childhood.

Pull.

His body must be adjusting to the quirk if the slowly fading pain in his bones was anything to go by, though it was getting harder and harder to think clearly. Was that a side effect, too?

It was only then that he realized it had been silent behind him for too long. Had Eraserhead decided he was not worth talking to anymore?

Gathering the remaining shreds of his courage, Izuku forced his heavy limbs to painstakingly turn over to face the hero, finally gazing up to see—huh.

Eraserhead was slumped against the cell wall, forehead resting against the glass. Fast asleep.

Izuku stared dumbly, distantly thinking that maybe he should be worried.

In fact, everything felt distant, now.

Maybe he should sleep, too.

He let his tired eyes slide shut, his last conscious thought drifting across his mind with surprising clarity. He would have liked to meet Eraserhead’s cats.

__________________

“Your heart and lungs seem to have held out and the fever has broken, so it’s safe to say the worst of the acclimation process has passed. How many fingers am I holding up?”

“T–two.”

“Good. Show me your shoulder. Yes, well, it looks like you’re healing well. Lift your arm. Hmm. Do you have any trouble moving it?”

Shota came back to consciousness abruptly, his senses snapping to awareness like they’d never left. He tensed, the new feeling of cold cuffs on his arms and legs alerting him to his new circ*mstances in addition to the voices to his right. He stayed still, listening intently and praying that he could learn something useful before they realized he was awake.

“A-a little. It’s umm…it’s still sore. Ah!”

Shota opened his eyes at the soft yelp of pain, turning his head to find Izuku flinching back from a fat bald man in a doctor’s coat poking–was that a bullet wound? Shota closed his eyes briefly. Of course. Snipe had taken a shot at the villains as they’d escaped, but nobody was sure if it had connected. It made him feel a little ill to have the answer like this.

Subtly glancing around, Shota could see he was still in his cell, but someone had wheeled in a steel gurney and strapped him to it, lying in such as way so as to give him a view into the neighboring cell, where the kid and this weird looking doctor stood.

The doctor prodded the reddish, mostly healed bullet scar on Izuku’s shoulder.

“Here?”

The kid grimaced, poorly hiding another flinch. Shota’s eyes narrowed. Just who was this?

“Y–yes.”

“Well, you’ll live. Keep up with the physical exercises I assigned and if you’re still stiff I can arrange something else.” Izuku paled slightly at that, tugging his shirt back onto his skinny frame, where it hung loosely.

The doctor didn’t react, turning to face Shota, letting out a pleased hum when their eyes met. A human sized, swirling purple portal opened on the cell wall for a moment and the doctor stepped through, the portal snapping shut behind him. Shota briefly glanced back to see if Izuku was still in the cell and was mildly surprised to find the kid standing in the center of his cell, hands clenched, eyes wide as he looked at Shota.

A sharp prod in his side alerted him to the fact that the doctor had reached his side, and, not wasting any time, roughly began poking Shota’s ribs, speaking aloud as he worked as if someone was taking notes. A second later, he realized someone was as Kurogiri’s swirling dark form flitted along his peripheral vision for a moment.

“Three cracked ribs, a dislocated shoulder, extensive bruising around the trachea, but no obvious lasting internal damage.” The doctor bent over him and Shota briefly met his eyes again, finding an intense, dark stare watching him with clinical detachment that was, frankly, creepy. Shota felt a prickle of unease go down his spine. Whoever this doctor was, he was not to be underestimated. However he seemed much more talkative than any of the villains he’d encountered thus far. Shota decided to take his chances.

“Where is my student?” Behind the doctor, Izuku took a few shaky steps closer, a look of fear flashing across his face at Shota’s statement. It seemed he really had been unaware of the attack on the summer camp.

“Subject’s vocal cords sustained mild damage from asphyxiation, but that should be easily remedied if desired and will not impact performance otherwise.” It would have been less concerning if the doctor had not acknowledged that he had spoken. What did he mean by subject?

Shota had been internally bracing himself for interrogation and torture since he’d woken–that was something he was prepared for as an underground hero, but now that he considered it, nobody had asked him a damn thing.

If he was a hostage for ransom, it would still make sense to interrogate him, and if they’d wanted to kill him they would have by this point. That aside, he doubted he would be given a medical checkup before these villains decided to torture him.

Subject. An uneasy, crawling feeling snuck up his spine as the doctor continued speaking casually. “There is also scarring from the A-class nomu at the USJ, but whatever damage to the quirk factor that may be present can be easily counteracted through regenerative surgery. Really, Izuku, I commend your efforts, but you do have to realize that your understanding of nomu is elementary. Your father said it was time for you to learn more about the inner workings of the nomu project, so listen closely, this is your first lesson.”

There was a soft thud, and Shota’s eyes flicked back to where Izuku was standing, almost touching the dividing wall of their cell, a palm pressed against the glass, his wide eyes locked onto Shota’s with something like horror, face milk white.

The doctor crossed in front of Shota’s line of sight, briefly blocking the kid. When it was clear again, Izuku was staring at the doctor now, lips pressed together. Shota almost jumped when he felt a needle slip into his arm. This wasn’t good. The doctor continued, voice picking up in eagerness.

“Before the dawn of quirks, there were noted cases of people waking up after being pronounced dead, hours, even days, later. Even after death, a body isn’t quite useless until some time has passed, and with the technology I have perfected over the years, even death is not the end of a subject’s usefulness as long as I can acquire the body soon enough.”

The needle withdrew from Shota’s arm, and he was once again met with the doctor’s burning stare as the man leaned over him. “There’s always a spark left that can be fanned back to life with proper treatment.”

The doctor lifted one of his eyelids, his other hand holding Shota’s head still. His heartbeat picked up as he internally adjusted his initial impression of the other man. This doctor was not just dangerous, he was a madman, which made his current situation all the more concerning.

Shota tamped down the beginnings of panic–that would get him nowhere. He just needed to live through whatever happened next and he could go from there. They didn’t want him dead. He could use that to his advantage.

He’d make it out of this alive.

“So you see, killing Eraserhead at the USJ would not have prevented him from becoming an S-class nomu. Your temper tantrum would have just delayed the process until his body could be sufficiently repaired.”

The world was suddenly very loud in Shota’s ears as the doctor moved away again, the rustling of paper on a clipboard somehow deafening. What? It felt like he had been hit by a truck, all air leaving his lungs for a second as he desperately tried to wrap his head around the horrible truth that finally connected the missing pieces in his head.

I think we will work well together.

Shota fought back a wave of nausea. Nomu had been people. This Sensei wanted to turn Shota into one and release him back at his own students or other heroes. An icy sense of fear joined the shock and horror churning in his chest as the thought crossed his mind. They were going to turn him into a monster if he couldn’t get out of here.

He glanced back at Izuku to find the boy’s hand dropping away from the glass, staring between the doctor out of Shota’s vision and then back to Shota himself in slack-jawed horror, eyes blown wide; he looked so young and lost at that second that it twisted Shota’s heart even through his shock.

Any particular reason you want me dead, kid?

The conviction was there, but not the desire.

And where Izuku fit into all of this…the kid must have been trying to stop it.

They didn’t want Shota dead. They had never wanted him dead and Izuku had been punished for going rogue and trying to kill him. It made a sickening amount of sense. The USJ attack hadn’t been just to kill All Might. It had been an attempt to get to Shota as well.

The kid must have come to the conclusion that killing him was the only way he could prevent him from becoming a nomu, unaware that death was not an obstacle in creating one. Convoluted or not, Izuku must have been trying to save him.

Shota hated it, but it made sense. Izuku had been raised under the thumb of a major villain, no wonder he believed his father unstoppable. He must have thought Shota’s death would be his only escape. The USJ hadn’t been the act of a bloodthirsty budding villain–it was a desperate rebellion.

“Kurogiri, please inform All For One that the subject is ready for the beginning stages of operation, though some of the process will have to wait until the serum takes effect and accelerates the healing of his ribs. I will begin preparing the operating room. Izuku, your father will get you when we’re ready for you.”

Shota heard the soft rushing sound of Kurogiri’s portal opening, and to Shota’s horror the gurney began rolling toward the sound. sh*t. He gave an experimental tug on the cuffs holding him to it. Nothing. And the quirk suppression band was still on as well.

Izuku stumbled several steps along the dividing wall, following Shota’s progression before freezing just as Shota felt a cool, misty sensation envelop his feet, rapidly moving upward.

Their eyes met again a split second before Shota’s head went through the portal, and Shota knew now that the naked fear and panic in them was genuine, and even more sharply, he knew that if he could not find a way to get them out of here fast, neither of them would be walking away from this.

Then the hazy purple clouds obscured his vision and the portal closed.

Chapter 15: Chapter 15

Chapter Text

Tenko had never enjoyed elevator music. It was soulless, boring, and frankly he’d rather just stand in silence for however long it took to go up. Elevator rides didn’t last long anyway so what did it matter if there was nothing to fill the silence?

A trickle of sweat dripped down his neck. For the first time in his life, he wished for elevator music to have something to distract him while he studiously avoided eye contact with Endeavor in the cramped, tiny elevator.

The older hero hadn’t even bothered to snuff out his flames despite being approximately seven and a half inches away from Tenko, which was why the sweat on his neck was now dripping uncomfortably down his back because of the number two flaming asshole invading his personal space.

Had it been anyone else, he would have made some kind of sarcastic comment, but seeing as Endeavor was not just the number two hero but also his girlfriend’s father, he settled for glaring at the floor indicator, which was ticking up far too slowly. Tenko was trying to make Fuyumi’s life easier, not more difficult, and picking fights with her father over personal space in the ancient precinct elevator was not the smartest choice he could make.

There was a heavy, disapproving sigh from above him and slightly to the right as Endeavor shifted.

He should have taken the stairs.

Another sigh behind him, this time accompanied by the clearing of a throat.

Tenko closed his eyes, straightening his shoulders and putting on his best neutral face as he turned to look at the other hero.

“Are you alright, Endeavor?”

Endeavor glowered at him for a second. “My son Shoto’s birthday is next month. He has agreed to go out as long as you accompany Fuyumi to the restaurant.”

Tenko stared up at him, blinking. Well that had not gone the way he expected.

“Let me get this straight. You’re inviting me as Fuyumi’s plus one to a fancy restaurant for Shoto’s birthday?”

If looks could kill, Tenko would be a pile of ashes about now. The elevator was now swelteringly hot as Endeavor answered stiffly. “Shoto insists that he will only celebrate if you are present given recent events.”

So this was Shoto’s doing, then? Tenko should have guessed that Shoto was one of the only people with enough leverage to get Endeavor to invite Tenko to a Todoroki family birthday dinner. He held back a smirk. The real question was whether or not the kid did it because Tenko won him over with that mall pretzel, or if he was doing it because it was no secret that Endeavor had disliked Tenko since they met when Tenko was an elementary schooler, and from what he understood Shoto did not get along with his father.

“Make sure you are presentable or the staff will not let you inside. I will have my assistant send the date.”

Tenko raised an eyebrow, saying dryly. “Sure, I would love to come.” Of course he was going to go, but the order rubbed him the wrong way. Endeavor knew Toshinori mostly kept Tenko out of the public eye since Yagi Toshinori and All Might were already fairly separate, and Toshinori did not want Tenko to deal with the media fixation that would undoubtedly shift to him were he to formally announce that he’d adopted a son.

His adoption was known in some hero circles, but it was kept discreet. However, All Might had taken Tenko to public appearances and galas as part of a “mentorship” program his hero agency ran. He knew how to behave at fancy events. “Thank Shoto for inviting me, Endeavor.”

It was petty, but frankly Endeavor started it and Tenko had never dealt well with overheating, so he added, “All Might said you were welcome to join us for bowling night on the twenty-first. Fuyumi beat him last time, too, so I guess he isn’t number one in everything, right?”

Endeavor’s face twisted like he’d eaten a lemon just as the elevator door finally dinged and the door opened, bringing a mercifully cool wave of air into the stuffy space. He shouldered his way past Tenko first with an even darker scowl.

“It appears not.”

“Ah! Endeavor, right on time!” Speak of the devil, or father figure, depending on who you were asking, Tenko supposed, Toshinori was easily tossing an arm around Endeavor’s shoulders, walking with the other hero toward the briefing room. “The meeting’s set to start soon but I wanted to ask you something first! What are your plans on the twenty-first…”

Tenko stifled a laugh behind his hand and followed after a few moments, sobering when he saw the entirety of the task force assigned to the investigation gathering and to his surprise–a wingless Hawks in the corner, gnawing on a chicken wing. He must have been in the underground if he was missing his wings. He glanced up, giving Tenko a finger salute before going back to his chicken wing like he hadn’t eaten in days. He might not have, knowing how his undercover work often went.

Tsukauchi looked as exhausted as Tenko felt when he finally stepped up to the front of the room, grim and haggard, but the hopelessness that had stalked him was nowhere to be found. Tenko’s heart sped up as the detective spoke.

“We have a lead, and we need to make a move tonight. You’ll be split into squads based on the information we have available. Hawks, if you could give us what you’ve found.”

Hawks stepped up, stowing the chicken bone in his jacket pocket a second before he reached the front of the room.

All For One. Sensei.

Echoes of the conversation he’d had with Toshinori two days previously drifted across Tenko’s head as Hawks spoke.

One For All.

A time limit that was running out.

The horrible, gaping scar he had never seen on his father’s side.

Shimura Nana. His Grandmother. Her death at All For One’s hand.

Why Sensei had taken him in.

It was all far, far bigger than he could have ever imagined. But this was the start. They would not lose more people to All For One. He would not rise to the same reign of terror.

Tenko met Toshinori’s eyes across the briefing room table, and he knew his father shared the same look.

It was time.

________________________

Izuku wasn’t sure how long he stood in his cell, staring at the spot where Kurogiri and Doctor Garaki and Eraserhead had disappeared. It could have been minutes. It could have been hours.

But he stood, unable to tear his gaze away from the spot, trying to force his thoughts into some kind of rational order. To think around the utterly hopeless despair that had wiped his mind blank.

It had all been for nothing. All of it.

He couldn’t even find it in him to cry. Only stare at Eraserhead’s empty cell like that would bring the man back.

It didn’t matter if he killed Eraserhead. It never had. Doctor Garaki was many things–insane and cruel, yes, but he was not a liar, not when it came to his projects–he was telling the truth.

Which meant that Izuku could not win. He never even had a chance, and Sensei knew that. And now Izuku did, too. There was no escape. No way out. Not for Eraserhead. Not for Izuku.

It wasn’t just that Sensei didn’t lose.

Sensei couldn’t lose.

He heard the portal before Kurogiri spoke softly into the deafening silence. “Your father is requesting your presence, Midoriya Izuku.”

Izuku turned to find Kurogiri standing behind him, having just stepped through the open portal in the middle of the cell. Looking up at the nomu, he felt another hollow stab in his gut, once again wondering how much of Kurogiri was programming, and how much was the person he was built from.

He opened his mouth, but all that would come out was a soft, “oh.” It felt like he was falling, or maybe just floating, nothing to anchor him. Nothing to hold onto.

Kurogiri turned and stepped toward the portal, pausing at the edge when he realized Izuku had not moved. He looked at Izuku for a long moment, eyes flickering. Izuku knew he should follow. Kurogiri would get in trouble too, if he didn’t do as Sensei asked. But his feet felt oddly disconnected from him, and the idea of moving felt like facing the tallest mountain in the world.

The nomu walked back over, crouching down to look up at him. Izuku couldn’t read his expression this time. It almost felt like Kurogiri was hesitating, reaching up to gently cup one side of Izuku’s cheek in a reassuringly cool hand. Izuku stared. Kurogiri was many things, but he had never initiated something like this. “The pain of receiving a new quirk passes eventually, Midoriya Izuku. It will not always hurt. And you have always been a strong child.”

Strong? What did Kurogiri even mean by that? Izuku had never considered himself to be strong. He was a deku. Strong was…strong was not Izuku. His eyes prickled and he looked away from Kurogiri, blinking hard. The hand gently withdrew, its coolness lingering on Izuku’s cheek.

Strong?

“Did it hurt you?” The words were out before Izuku could stop them, childish and desperate even to his own ears. He wasn’t just talking about getting new quirks. Judging by the silence, Kurogiri knew it too. Finally, Izuku dared to look back at the nomu, who had stood again and was watching Izuku. When Kurogiri spoke again, the strangeness of his earlier words was gone, replaced by the calm, rational patterns he usually spoke with.

“As I am now, I did not suffer, as my consciousness began with the burial of my vessel’s. I cannot speak for any pain he may have gone through. Now come, it is best not to make your father come and retrieve you himself.”

Izuku’s heart dropped into his stomach on instinct, and he nodded again. Sensei was still angry, then, if he was threatening to come and get Izuku himself if he didn’t obey quickly enough. Thankfully his numb legs still seemed to be at least a little connected to his body as he stumbled forward, following the nomu through the portal.

And while Kurogiri hadn’t said it directly…Izuku knew the answer he’d been given. Eraserhead would suffer until he was no longer Eraserhead. And there was nothing Izuku could do to stop it, anymore.

“Izuku, I was beginning to wonder if you were coming.” Sensei was standing in the circular nomu chamber, arms crossed, pinning Izuku to the spot with a rare flash of impatience in his voice as he came to put a hand on his shoulder. “Kurogiri, you’re dismissed, please return to the lounge.”

The soft rush of a portal behind Izuku announced Kurogiri’s departure as Sensei guided Izuku to the middle of the room, where Eraserhead was lying on a steel table, his arms and legs held down by thick metal cuffs. Dr. Garaki was arranging syringes on the other side, each filled with a differently colored liquid that glistened in sinister jewel tones under the light of the chamber.

Izuku didn’t want to come closer, but with his father’s hand gripping his shoulder he forced himself to continue. Even being close to Sensei was setting his heart pounding.

Pull.

It hurt, when he took their quirks. It always hurt. They always cried, unless Sensei put them to sleep first.

Had Mom been awake for it?

Izuku came to a halt next to the table, and to his dismay Eraserhead turned his head to look at Izuku, his face darkening when he saw Izuku, and he glared between Sensei and Izuku, mouth moving sharply, but to Izuku’s surprise no sound came out. He looked up at Sensei in question.

“Ah, yes, I had the doctor administer a vocal sedative. Eraserhead seems less than disposed to civil conversation at the moment and I’d like to limit distractions while you learn. My apologies,” he added toward Eraserhead’s general direction, sounding anything but sorry, “you understand as a teacher, of course.”

Eraserhead closed his mouth with a snap at Sensei’s last sentence, a dark anger swirling in his eyes before shuttering behind a stony, unreadable facade. He wasn’t wearing a shirt, and Izuku could see the mottled bruises and cuts that covered him from what must have been an ugly fight before the hero was taken down. He swallowed, the numbness slowly giving way to a panic that made his fingertips tremble.

He didn’t want this.

Sensei shook his head, sighing as he followed Izuku’s gaze. “Really, it’s difficult to find people who are both capable of carrying out orders and doing so without using a sledgehammer. Izuku, remind me to have a talk with your brother about who he associates with. Hammers have their place, but the wielder must be firmly in control.”

“Y-yes, Sensei.”

“Now,” Izuku flinched when Sensei gave him a soft push toward Doctor Garaki, “as we discussed before, it’s time you learned more about the responsibility it takes to reshape society as we know it. And so today, we will be studying the creation of nomu. Doctor.”

Doctor Garaki glanced down at him before humming softly and handing Izuku a syringe. This one was deep, ruby red. He stared, a lump growing in his throat as he realized what was happening.

Please no.

He’d been afraid he was going to have to watch. But he was wrong.

Sensei was going to make him help.

“Izuku, bring that over here.” Izuku jerked his head up to find Sensei watching him closely. He swallowed thickly, the lump refusing to dislodge, wishing desperately he could wake up and discover that this was all a horrible nightmare.

He walked back over to Sensei, holding out the syringe. Sensei didn’t take it, instead choosing to look down at Eraserhead.

“As you know, the actual building process of a nomu varies based on what class you are attempting to create. A-class and below are fairly simple. But the creation of an S-class is somewhat more nuanced. Tell me, son, what would you do to start? Assume that the primary function of this nomu would be a combination of combat and specialty missions.”

Izuku looked at the syringe in his hand and then back up at his father. “I—I would strengthen his quirk if I could. Or give him a way t—to counteract the dry eye that limits how long he can use his quirk.”

Sensei nodded. “An excellent idea. However, you are forgetting something. Try again. What would you do first, Izuku?”

Izuku’s heart stuttered nervously as he looked back down to find Eraserhead watching him with a frown. He looked away again, guilt stabbing him as he realized they were talking about the hero like he wasn’t even a real person in front of him. But he couldn’t…he had to answer. Sensei was asking. He wouldn’t ask nicely again.

“I-I would…I would give him a complimentary quirk so that I could mix the two as I strengthened them?”

Sensei took the syringe from him, holding it up to the light for a moment, silent. Izuku swallowed again, wondering if he would start choking if the lump in his throat got any larger.

“That’s also not a bad plan, but you’re only thinking of the physical qualities of a nomu. What sets apart the S-class nomu is that some sentience remains behind, which means that the mind’s functions must be preserved while being fundamentally altered to suit your needs.”

He stepped over to Eraserhead, plunging the syringe into his arm without hesitation. “Take Kurogiri, for example. The average nomu takes anywhere from a week to a month to produce. Kurogiri took nearly eight months to mentally reach a point of being receptive to basic commands, and another seven after that to acclimate to alterations to his physical body itself.”

Izuku could see the hero clenching his jaw, the cords in his neck standing out as the ruby liquid drained from the syringe. “Wh–what is that?”

Doctor Garaki stepped up on Eraserhead’s other side, eyes glinting as he began to stick small sticky pads with wires onto the hero’s chest. “It’s a co*cktail of various psychedelics and hallucinogens that help to erode the subject’s foundation of reality while the real work begins. While the mental state and resilience of individuals with strong wills, anti-interrogation training or even high levels of empathy are actually more suited to become S-class nomu, that very same mental state must be made malleable before those same qualities can be channeled toward a singular goal.”

Izuku could feel tears starting to form in the corners of his eyes that he frantically blinked back, terrified Sensei was going to see them. He knew he was powerless against his father. Even now that he was no longer technically quirkless, Sensei was still showing him how deku or not, Izuku would never be able to challenge him.

And how could he, when a simple word or touch or even look from Sensei could freeze him in his tracks, filling his head with that fearful buzzing that overrode all rational thought and left him only with the instinct to please. To obey.

But Izuku had never felt so helpless than this second as Sensei dropped a hand to his shoulder and he watched as Doctor Garaki injected another syringe into Eraserhead’s neck this time, the liquid an eye-searing green.

Sensei’s voice dragged Izuku’s attention back away from Eraserhead. “Now, I want you to try this next on your–” He stopped, pausing for a brief moment before letting a long breath out through his nose. “It appears I am needed elsewhere at the moment. Doctor, please continue with our original schedule. Izuku, I expect you to assist since I cannot be here.”

Sensei turned Izuku around so they were face to face, a hand on each shoulder. “Remember our conversation, son. I do not want to have to have a repeat of it when I return. Don’t disappoint me.”

Izuku shrank back as much as he dared without resisting Sensei’s hold on him, his eyes dropping in fear at the reminder of their last “talk.” Sensei wouldn’t…he wouldn’t force him to take another quirk would he?

“Izuku?”

“I–y–yes, Sensei. I won’t.”

Sensei smiled widely, warm pride coloring his tone for a moment. “Good. I expect great things from you, Izuku.”

Izuku almost stumbled back into the operating table as he was released, unable to tear his eyes away from Sensei as his father turned and strode out of the room, the soft hissing snap of the door cutting off his view.

Doctor Garaki clapped his hands, making Izuku jump.

“Let’s begin!”

_______________

Tenko eyed the dingy sign of the bar across the street. Seriously? A run down bar in plain sight directly in the middle of Mustafu’s red light district? In all fairness, that wasn’t a half bad hiding place seeing as this ward’s residents generally were not particularly friendly to outsiders and while the yakuza had not moved in, local gangs ran this area. It was both where someone could expect to find minor crime, but not necessarily seedy enough to keep an eye out for major ones.

He glanced back at All Might, Edgeshot, Kamui Woods and Gran Turino. Endeavor had already taken to the sky after grumbling about being left outside with Tsukauchi. The other squad was in place at the second hideout.

All Might nodded back at Tenko, who stood, slinking casually across the street to the bar. Edgeshot, All Might and Kamui Woods slipped into the alley behind the bar. Tenko would usually breach in a far less obvious way, but he could see the value of both confusing then surprising the villains inside as opposed to simply dropping on their heads this time.

He just needed to hold their attention in one spot for a split second before the others could break through the wall and grab Bakugo. He could faintly hear loud voices that went quiet when he knocked loudly.

“Uhh, pizza delivery!” No answer. Tenko placed his hand on the front door and a second later it crumbled away. Frozen in front of him across the room was Bakugo, back to the wall, hands out defensively. The rest of the League of Villains was circled around him except for Kurogiri, who was standing behind the bar. All eyes fell to Tenko.

“Whoops. You don’t have to tip.”

Dabi whirled on Tenko, snarling “Kurogiri!” over his shoulder.

The wall exploded as All Might charged through, plunging the room into chaos that ended almost as soon as it began as Kamui Woods imprisoned most of the league while Gran Turino took out Dabi and Edgeshot disabled Kurogiri in a frankly terrifying display that Tenko had never seen the older hero pull.

He hurried over to Bakugo, who was panting, eyes wide like he was only just realizing he wasn’t in a fight for his life. Tenko could feel All Might’s eyes following him as he dropped to one knee in front of the kid. “Hey, Bakugo, you got any broken bones? Bleeding out from anywhere you aren’t telling me?”

If it was any other kid, Tenko would have taken a gentler approach, but something told him acknowledging exactly what they had just saved Bakugo from would get a snarl and if the kid really was hurt it would make helping him ten times more difficult.

He got a huff as the teen crossed his arms, though Tenko caught the minute tremble in them. “I’m fine! Assholes haven’t touched me since I came here.”

Tenko nodded, standing. “Good. Let me look at those burns then. If they get infected it’ll put you out of hero training until they heal.” That did the trick, and Bakugo only shoved his hands in his pocket, twisting to give Tenko a view of the fingerprints burned around his neck, a sick feeling bubbling as he looked at the wounds, fishing some burn cream out of his pocket.

This had to be Dabi’s work. What was worse was that there was clearly a large amount of quirk control at play—one slip up and these burns would easily have been fatal. But they were barely deeper than surface level. Designed to be painful, not debilitating. A warning. Tenko clenched his teeth, trying to be as gentle as he could with Bakugo’s neck as behind him All Might approached the villain leader.

“This is it for you. Where is All For One?”

A low, raspy laugh floated over. “What, you want me to cry and beg for forgiveness now, All Might?” Tenko frowned. That did not sound like the voice of a villain who had just been had. And they had been careful, having Mic hold a press conference at U.A., leaving their own false trails. There was no way they’d been found out. “This is just the beginning. Soon you’ll all be burning.”

Tenko only had a split second to ponder that Dabi also sounded strangely familiar despite having never directly interacted with the villain when a cry of alarm from above sounded and he whipped around to find piles of black sludge falling from the sky, meaty, clawed arms emerging from them as nomu clambered out, the sharp patter of gunfire from the swat teams outside drumming like rain.

“Don’t let them out!” Tenko heard All Might shout to Kamui Woods as the strike team whirled to face the new threat. A wet, choked cough drew his attention back to Bakugo, who was doubled over dropping to his knees as the same black sludge poured out of his mouth.

For the first time Tenko could see pure, unadulterated panic on the kid’s face as he met Tenko’s eyes. Tenko grabbed his shoulders, preparing to…to do something because this was a quirk he had never seen before and he didn’t think he could just heimlich it out of the Bakugo. “All Might!” He shouted, hoping that Toshinori could spirit the kid to the paramedics because he couldn’t fix this when he felt it—the air was suddenly thick, like he was breathing through a straw.

Something hot and slimy bubbled up through his throat, up and out his nose as he coughed, doubling over beside Bakugo as his lungs fought to expel the sludge and inhale at the same time in painful tandem.

He heard someone shouting his name and looked up to find All Might sprinting for him, arm outstretched as to his shock Bakugo dissolved into a pile of sludge beside him.

“Phoenix!” All Might made a grab for him just as the world went black. It was the first time Tenko could remember seeing Toshinori look frightened.

The next thing he knew, Tenko was gasping for air on his hands and knees in what looked like a warzone, the wreckage of some building strewn all around him.

He looked up to see the secondary strike team strewn about, his heart giving a lurch when he spotted Best Jeanist lying still on the ground at the feet of—Tenko stopped breathing as the figure smiled at him, wide and warm and welcoming.

Sensei.

For a second he was eight years old again, staring up at the titan that ruled his life.

No.

This was All For One.

Tenko was not that child anymore.

Bakugo was stumbling to his feet behind him, the rest of the League of Villains following suit as they appeared, but Tenko couldn’t take his eyes off the figure before him, rage so potent he could barely speak filling him.

“You. Where’s Izuku?”

All For One’s voice was exactly as he remembered it, condescending and oily, like Tenko was too stupid to understand his words if he spoke at a normal pace. “Is that any way to speak to the person who saved you from starvation, Tomura?”

“Answer my question!”

Behind him, Bakugo’s hands popped with small explosions as the league began to close ranks, recovering from the teleportation.

“You are not in a position to make demands.” All For One raised his hand. “Unfortunately for you, your usefulness has diminished since you left us, Tomura. It was by my will that you survived childhood. But now it is time for you to follow in your grandmother’s footsteps.”

Tenko barely had time to dive, slamming a hand to the earth as the world crumbled around him.

_______________

Izuku watched, feeling oddly detached from himself as the doctor bent over the counter, muttering to himself and neatly laying several instruments on a steel tray, drawing a bright blue drug into an empty syringe.

Sensei told him to be useful.

He wanted to be useful.

Worth something.

He didn’t want to be a deku.

Eraserhead had opened his eyes again, apparently riding out whatever pain the red and green liquid had caused. He was blinking like keeping Izuku in focus was difficult. That would be the drugs starting to take hold. Izuku wondered what he was seeing as his heart twisted painfully inside him.

It wasn’t fair.

None of it.

Eraserhead was a hero. A real one. He saved villains and even comforted monsters like Izuku. No, no that was wrong. Izuku wasn’t a monster.

Sensei was right, after all.

Izuku was nothing at all, and he never would be.

“Next the paralytic…yes three milliliters should be enough to keep him still…maybe another shot of the vocal sedative too, yes, it’ll be wearing off soon…wouldn’t want too much noise…” A soft, half voiced laugh tumbled out of Doctor Garaki as he worked, and for the first time in a long time, Izuku felt an answering ember of anger flicker to life inside the hollowness of his chest, hands curling into fists by his sides.

Izuku had been doomed from the second Sensei knew he existed…he had been his father’s possession since the day Mom died. It wasn’t fair that he would never see his dreams become reality. That he was forced to be both nothing and everything he ever feared all at once. But it was his reality. The ember of anger was burning in his chest now, bright and hot for the first time he could remember.

Your only chance of ever being anything, is if you take the reins yourself.

There had never been a chance of rescue for him in the first place but Eraserhead…even if Sensei won in the end, Eraserhead could still save people before that time came. He didn’t deserve to die like this. And he didn’t deserve to live like this even more. It wasn’t fair. He wanted someone to save Eraserhead even if Izuku could never be free.

But there were no heroes here. Only Izuku.

You have always been a strong child.

Kurogiri was wrong. Izuku was not strong, not really. He had not been strong enough to find a way to out-think Sensei. He had not been strong enough to stop himself from becoming a villain. To stand up to his father and simply refuse to fulfill his intended purpose as his father’s trophy.

But maybe…

Even if he wasn’t strong.

Even if he knew Sensei would kill him for it.

Even the future was set in stone and none of it mattered…

In this moment, right now.

Could he be a hero, just once?

Doctor Garaki held the now full syringe up to his face, scowling down at the needle and leaning in to take a closer look.

I think no matter what you get, you’ll be my hero.

Izuku took a deep breath, and pulled.

_________________

Toshinori could feel the already dull throbbing of his stomach as he rocketed toward the last pinged location of the tracker installed in Tenko’s hero suit. It was a standard issue for most pros, particularly those who associated with the underground, to have one way or another to find them if they were incapacitated or unable to respond to a comms call.

It had been stupid of All For One’s minions to kidnap a pro that would lead every other hero in the vicinity directly to him. It was egregiously stupid. Which meant that it had not been a mistake. It was an invitation, and whatever unknown villain’s quirk they were using had just been used to change the battlefield.

It was likely a trap.

Toshinori willed his legs to move faster. It wasn’t that he did not believe Tenko was a perfectly capable hero–but his son was primarily focused on rescue operations and quick, brutal takedown style battles. Tenko couldn’t go full out without risking major damage to surrounding structures or killing his opponent.

Thirty seconds out.

And young Bakugo…he was a child with very little combat experience, so spunk or not he was at a severe disadvantage when it came to a coordinated group of villains who served All For One.

He could not fail these children.

His son.

All Might crashed through the remains of an already destroyed warehouse, bearing his teeth in a savage grin. A quick glance to the left showed the members of the League of Villains sprawled across the area, some buried under piles of rubble as if something had thrown them all at once–young Bakugo was motionless on top of a support beam. And to the right at the center of a crater–he stopped dead.

No.

God, please no.

“All Might, you’ve gotten slower.”

All For One stood in the middle of the wreckage, helmet glinting in the light of the small fires littered throughout the remains of the building. And gripped in his right hand–held half off the ground by All For One’s iron grasp around his wrist–Tenko. Limp, eyes half-lidded and unfocused, blood dripping from his nose.

As he watched, Tenko spasmed, a wet sounding cough he could hear even from this distance ripping out of his chest. Relief joined the terror in his heart. He was still breathing. Toshinori wasn’t too late yet. He forced a coolness to his tone he did not feel. All For One could not find out his connection to Tenko.

“All For One. Still bullying children, I see. Why don’t you put him down and fight someone your own size for once.”

Toshinori did not bother to keep the snarl from his tone, the built up fury of decades welling up in him. He did not hate easily, but this man–this monster–he would finish what he had started, this time. All For One had taken his master from him already. He would die before he let the same villain take his son, too.

A low chuckle, soft and smooth reached him as in one swift motion All For One hoisted Tenko into the air so he dangled by the arm, holding him up for Toshinori to see.

“Surely you want to check on your son, first?” Toshinori’s heart turned to ice as he fought to keep the grin on his face. He knew. “Really you should be proud of the boy, All Might, you raised him well.” He gave Tenko a sharp shake, eliciting a soft gasp of pain from Tenko that the boy didn’t even seem to be conscious of.

All For One smiled widely, his tone dripping with mocking pride. “He hasn’t even started crying yet–did you know his grandmother did, when I told her I knew where she’d hidden her son before I crushed her skull?”

Chapter 16: Chapter 16

Chapter Text

Shota could count on one hand the amount of times he had actually panicked. Not cracking under pressure was a survival instinct he’d honed since childhood that was very rarely wrenched from his grasp.

But now, with every vein in his body actively burning and shadowy shapes beginning to flicker at the edges of his vision, Shota knew the fear that wrapped around his heart like a vice was borne from pure panic.

He had to get out of here.

Think.

He couldn’t let himself be made into some mindless weapon.

Hizashi was waiting for him–

Shota’s heart gave a painful spasm that wasn’t just from the pain of realizing he might not come home to his husband. Whatever they’d injected him with was starting to work. But this…this was worse than when he had faced the possibility before. Death was objectively, logically, less frightening.

Focus. Focus.

There had to be some kind of way for him to get out of this.

He needed to think. To stop panicking and think.

But that was just it, wasn’t it?

He was thinking, his thoughts all racing down a maze and arriving at the same conclusion again and again.

The cold metal cuffs around his arms and legs were at least an inch thick and they were code locked. He could feel some of the numbness in his vocal cords wearing off, but talking had proved fruitless anyway.

Shota was well and truly helpless. He couldn’t save himself, and he certainly couldn’t save the frozen teenager he could make out standing between him and the doctor.

This will destroy him.

He was sure that was exactly what the villain, All For One, as he’d politely introduced himself before summoning Izuku, wanted. He had no idea why the villain was so damn set on crushing this kid but he was going to extreme lengths to do it. It felt like it went beyond just an exercise of power, but for what end Shota didn’t know. Any other villain of this kind would have just killed Izuku. Yet Sensei was intent on forcing a kid who clearly wanted nothing to do with what was happening–rebellion aside, the open fear alone showed that.

And damn it he didn’t want the kid to find out what All For One’s angle was either. And he did not want to be part of that “teaching process.” But he was because for some reason entirely unknown to Shota, Izuku must have some kind of attachment to him specifically despite never having interacted with him before this mess began. For this kind of psychological torture to work, the person being harmed had to mean something to the victim–it wouldn’t have nearly the same kind of impact otherwise.

He couldn’t keep his thoughts straight.

Stop panicking.

Shota couldn’t quite crane his neck to see what the doctor was up to–he could only just see Izuku’s shaking hand clench into a fist from where the kid stood somewhere near his knees, braced like he was rooted into the floor.

Shota wasn’t an idiot–this entire farce was engineered to make Izuku blame himself for what was about to happen. To coat this kid in blood and drown whatever spirit that was left in him that had fueled his attempt at rebellion in the first place. And he was horrifyingly helpless to stop it. Just another failure in a very long line of people he assumed failed the bright eyed-child from his police file. He hated that it would end like this. That Shota himself was being used to snuff out the last of that light and he was powerless to stop it.

It really wasn’t fair.

A critical hum floated from where the doctor had disappeared to before it abruptly cut off with a loud, meaty thump.

For a second, dead silence reigned. Izuku disappeared, diving down to the floor in a sudden flurry of movement. The next thing Shota heard was frantic shuffling and panicked breaths as Izuku reappeared next to him, fumbling with something for a moment before there was a quiet beep and a hydraulic hiss. The cuff on Shota’s right wrist released.

“I…I it’s okay…you’re gonna be okay...oh my gosh…”

The kid hurried over to his other side, repeating the process, his quiet muttering a backdrop against Shota’s shock.

As soon as his second wrist was freed Shota sat up, glancing around to find the mad doctor limp on the floor, an empty syringe sticking out of his neck.

What?

Izuku’s eyes followed his gaze as the kid fumbled the card and dropped it on the floor by Shota’s feet. He scrambled to pick it up.

“I…I don’t think I hit anything vital! I–I swear I wasn’t trying to…I don’t think he’s dead and I–”

“Breathe, kid.” Shota sounded a little more breathless than he would have liked between his heart hammering in his chest and the vocal sedative wearing off. He fought a twitch when a shadow flitted across his peripheral vision–it wasn’t real. Whatever was starting to take hold, it wasn’t real. And he needed to focus on the now panicking teenager in front of him. He swung his feet over the edge of the table when Izuku released his other leg. “Even if you had it qualifies as self defense.”

Izuku stepped back to watch Shota, his hands twisting anxiously, shoulders hunched like he was waiting for an attack. Shota had the sick feeling that the kid wouldn’t fight back if he did try to restrain him. “Y–you need to go before he comes back. I–I can’t stop him b–but if you go now you can get out.”

Shota stood, glancing about the nightmarish chamber for anything physical he could grab on the way out. Unfortunately nothing stood out, and he was not about to blow their chance at escape by delaying and looking for more evidence of what was clearly a major operation. “Okay. Let’s go. Where’s the exit?”

Izuku shook his head, looking down, nails digging into his arms where he held them tightly now. “I–I can’t–”

“Don’t fold on me now, kid.”

Izuku flinched, looking back up and frantically shaking his head before dropping his gaze back to the floor. There were no tears in his eyes yet, but Shota could hear them in his voice. “N–no that’s not…it’s…I’m…” He swallowed thickly, voice growing smaller and smaller as he continued. “I don’t know where it is. I–Sensei never let me leave and I wasn’t allowed to…Kurogiri always took me places. I’ve never come in or out.”

Shota’s heart broke all over again at the quiet, shameful admission even as hot rage and disgust boiled up in his chest. All For One had raised this kid like a prisoner. No, there was no like here. Izuku was a prisoner. He’d lived his whole life in this prison complete with a jailer. Not even allowed to walk out the damn door for a snack if he wanted.

“Okay. Okay, I believe you. You can take us as far as you were allowed to go and we can figure it out from there.”

He took several steps toward a door in the side of the wall where All For One disappeared before stopping, realizing that Izuku had not followed, and was instead staring at Shota, even his anxious twitching still.

“W–we?” The disbelieving, half-whispered tone was brittle. Did he really think Shota would leave him here? Even if he had known nothing else, the fact that Izuku was doing what he was doing, risking what he was by helping Shota was enough that he would never leave the kid to rot in this hell hole. Still, he kept his voice steady and firm.

“Yes, we. It’s time to go. I’m leaving, and you’re coming with me. You said it yourself we need to leave before All For One comes back. ”

“But–but I’m a…a villain!” Tears were welling up in Izuku’s eyes now, painful confusion twisting his features. “I–I tried to kill you!”

Shota rubbed a hand across his face, noting with surprise that the pain from his injured ribs and shoulders had dulled to weeks old instead of barely a day or two. Or however long he had been here.

“Kid, I can’t tell you I’m thrilled about that, but right now the details aren’t important. And a villain wouldn’t have saved me, just now.”

“But I…I–”

A loud rumble filled the space like thunder, the ceiling shaking and ground rolling for a moment, throwing them both a few sideways steps.

Shota looked up in alarm, but there was nothing coming crashing down on them from whatever was going on above.

Crack.

A sound like ice splitting drew Shota’s attention to the wall just in time to watch a spider web of cracks on one of the giant tubes holding one of the nomu around the chamber shatter into thousands of people, the hulking body inside hitting the cold lab floor with a wet thud.

Then, to Shota’s horror, dozens of reddish eyes blinked open over the nomu’s hulking body, followed by even more mouth opening to laugh in a screeching chorus, baring needle-like teeth as the creature struggled to its feet.

Izuku stumbled back a step, bumping into the operating table with a quiet thud. Dozens of red eyes focused on the boy with predatory hunger. The mouths screamed, more animal than human.

Shota grabbed the kid’s wrist, dashing for the door.

“Run!”

__________________

Tenko’s awareness came back to him slowly, sounds muffled like his head was under water as he dangled in Sensei’s grasp, not entirely sure how he had gotten there in the first place.

A sharp shake sent a shot of pain through his body, cutting through the haze in his mind.

“...when I crushed her skull?”

Tenko blinked, his stomach dropping as his eyes found Toshinori’s twenty feet away. His father was in a ready stance, rage and fear dancing in his eyes, teeth bared in a savage grin. But he was not attacking.

Oh. It’s because of me…Sensei’s gonna use me as a human shield.

A trickle of fear went down his spine. He couldn’t…he needed to get out of the way so All Might could fight. Sensei couldn’t get away. They had to stop him.

Tenko swallowed, the coppery taste of blood rolling uncomfortably down his throat. Sensei didn’t seem to be aware that he was cognizant again…he could use that. Toshinori was the number one hero for a reason, he’d know what to do. He met Toshinori’s eyes again for a brief second and gave him a small smirk, wishing he could do more to reassure him. Ironic, he knew, trying to tell the number one hero that it was okay because he was still here. Toshinori’s eyes widened.

Gathering all of his strength, Tenko twisted, throwing his free hand up to grasp All For One’s wrist, feeling the silken suit give way under his quirk, finding skin just as Sensei hissed in pain and the next thing he knew, Tenko was flying through the air, colliding painfully with a half-destroyed support beam.

He lay there, gasping for breath as Toshinori gave a loud shout, launching himself at All For One.

Good…that was good. He struggled to force his lungs to remember how to breathe, reeling from the impact as the two titans fought across the warehouse. He would probably hurt a lot worse if his head wasn’t swimming so much. All of his injuries were combined into one giant muddled label called hurt in his head as his whole body throbbed dully.

Tenko wasn’t sure how long he lay there, squinting through blurry vision as All For One met All Might blow for blow, neither managing to land a real hit on the other.

No sooner had the thought crossed his mind then smack!

All Might skidded across the warehouse, keeping his feet but staggering slightly. All For One did not hesitate, and All Might only just had time to dive out of the way to avoid a hit of acid that melted the wall behind him before ducking under another punch as they once again clashed.

He was…Toshinori was struggling, and All For One was ruthlessly pressing his advantage, not letting up for a second, keeping All Might on the defensive.

The trickle of fear was now pooling in his stomach as he watched his father fight, struggling to keep his attacks from leaving the warehouse and into the ward beyond and…and direct them away from Tenko and the unconscious villains, heroes and student still present.

His father would not risk killing Bakugo or Tenko himself by going all out. It was making him cautious. And Sensei–All For One–was going to exploit that.

Tenko grit his teeth, tears stinging against the cuts on his face as he forced his palm flat against the ground, willing it to give way. All Might just needed a second to recover–he could still beat All For One, Tenko knew it, he just needed to give him an opening. He needed to get the others out…he was a rescue hero. He needed…needed to get up.

Decay ripped through the ground, reaching All For One just as All Might threw another punch. Sensei stumbled to the side when the ground beneath his feet decayed. The impact made the ground shake, jostling the gravel digging into Tenko’s cheek as All Might finally landed a blow, a massive cloud of dust obscuring the area.

Tenko pushed himself shakily to his elbows, head swimming at the motion, waves of nausea crashing over him, and coughing as he inhaled too much of the dust, sharp pains blossoming where his ribs were fractured from his initial fight with All For One. And his right shoulder was definitely dislocated from being thrown. Where was Bakugo? He needed to get the kid and Jeanist out of here so All Might could finish this while Kamino was still partially standing.

An earth-shattering crash knocked him back to the floor, his ears ringing, vision whiting out from pain for a second as he tried to re-orient himself. He tried to push himself up, but his one good arm was failing him, limbs like jello, refusing to cooperate. He must have a really bad concussion…but he had to get up. He couldn’t give up yet. He wouldn’t. If he could only move.

It was only then that Tenko realized the sounds of battle had stopped–the wailing of sirens and distant screams were now audible over the soft cadence of falling rubble and hum of circling helicopters.

Was it over?

Through the dust and smoke Tenko finally made out a tall figure making its way over to him, appearing and reappearing like a wraith in the haze. Then his breath caught in his throat when a helmet glinted dully and the figure was suddenly right in front of him as All For One crouched down, shaking his head slowly.

Even panic could not force a connection between his limbs and his brain, and before Tenko could finish his clumsy lurch to the side, flopping a palm out to make a valley between him and Sensei, a hand reached out and caught his wrist in a crushing grip. Tenko clenched his hand into a fist, trying to twist out of the hold, but Sensei only sighed quietly, like he was still a disobedient child.

“You were always a difficult student, Tomura.” Tenko felt a pop as All For One squeezed his wrist, the delicate bones snapping like twigs and he couldn’t help the strangled cry of pain that slipped out of his mouth. Sensei shook his head, tightening his grip even further, grinding the broken bones together and forcing Tenko’s clenched fist open until his fingers were fully splayed out again. “I believe I was too indulgent with you.”

Black razor-like blades suddenly sprouted from All For One, piercing Tenko’s arms, but their stinging barely registered over his other injuries–what shocked him was the feeling of Decay activating at full power, thrumming actively throughout his whole body.

All For One leaned closer. “I will not make the same mistakes with your brother. Don’t worry. If there is enough of you left, I will bring you home for him to see.”

Tenko realized what was about to happen a split second before it did with gut-wrenching horror as Sensei twisted the arm he held so Tenko’s hand faced his body, pressing Tenko’s palm to his stomach in one slow, deliberate motion, a wide smile painting his face. One. Two. Three. Four. Five.

Five fingers held to his abdomen as easily as if Tenko was a child, all of his strength helpless against All For One’s power.

The night was suddenly very cold as his shirt crumbled to dust, the chilly wind racing across his bare skin before an agony like nothing he had ever felt before spread from five points of contact across his stomach, creeping across his ribs, up his chest…into his chest.

Tenko screamed.

Chapter 17: Chapter 17

Chapter Text

For once in his life, Izuku did not have time to overthink as he hurtled down the hallway with Eraserhead’s iron grip around his wrist. Terror thrummed through every vein in his body as the nomu’s inhuman screeches echoed after them, slamming against the door they’d barely managed to close before it threw itself up against it in a frenzy.

He didn’t need to look back to know that it wouldn’t hold up for very long. Up ahead of them, the passage split.

“Go right!” Eraserhead nodded, finally letting go of Izuku’s wrist and letting him pass him up to lead them up the incline of the long offshoot that led to the white room he knew would lead to the upper levels. They just had to get out of the white room, through the research center and then out into the living quarters. Maybe if they could just get far enough out of the nomu’s hearing it would deactivate…whatever its purpose was, it was unfinished and Izuku could take a wild guess that it was not controllable right now so they had to lose it.

As if in answer, there was the screeching crash of metal tearing and falling heavily on the concrete floor, the nomu’s cries halting for a second before a new sound chilled Izuku’s blood—like nails on a chalkboard, chittering and echoing and growing closer at an alarming speed. He looked up at Eraserhead, who met his eyes and gave him a push. Izuku hadn’t even realized he slowed down.

“Don’t stop!”

Izuku did not have the extra breath to answer, the last few months of recovery having left him considerably weaker than he had been for a very long time. Still he urged his burning legs to move faster, almost slamming into the door of the white room and fumbling with the handle for a second before flinging it open just long enough for both of them to slip through, then slamming it shut again.

Against the dim lighting of the hall, the white room was blinding, its fluorescent lights searingly bright. He stumbled forward, chest heaving as he tried to catch his breath and fumbled for the keycard he’d stolen off of Doctor Garaki to unlock the next door, thankful he hadn’t followed his initial instinct to throw the card as far away from him as possible after freeing Eraserhead.

He’d freed Eraserhead. Well. Maybe. If Izuku could get him out of the compound alive. But regardless he’d released the hero and hurt Doctor Garaki. Sensei was going to kill him for this. But he didn’t have time to consider the implications of how it was literal this time—he had to get Eraserhead out of the compound before his father came back. What happened to him after didn’t matter. As long as Eraserhead made it out of here, it would be worth it.

The door unlocked with a soft beep. Izuku was halfway through before he realized he couldn’t hear Eraserhead behind him and turning around he found the hero standing still in the middle of the room, head tilted up with an uncharacteristically soft smile on his slightly dazed looking face. The lights cast the bruises and healing cuts on his torso in a sickly, pale glow.

“E—Erasherhead?” Izuku took a hesitant step toward him just as the hero blinked, a sharp scowl crossing his face as he shook his head, the dazed expression vanishing. “Let’s keep moving, kid. Good work.”

He stepped past Izuku into the dimly lit research center without another word. It was a large room, full of computers and odd devices that Izuku still didn’t quite understand despite having countless lessons with Sensei in this very place. He suppressed a shudder, half expecting Sensei to step out of the shadows and calmly explain how this was all a test that Izuku failed. But it was quiet, the soft hum of machinery at rest the only undertone to their harsh breathing. Izuku turned to Eraserhead, he was still breathless, the words sitting like a knife in his chest.

“The white room is soundproof. It—the nomu can’t hear us in here.” Some of the tension lifted from Eraserhead’s shoulders and he turned to face Izuku.

“Good. Where do we go from here?”

Izuku pointed toward the far end of the room, where two sets of double doors made from the same clear material as the cell walls, he now realized, formed a small chamber between them. Izuku knew the middle chamber was equipped not just with a camera to check who was coming in and out, but it could also fill with sleeping gas in an instant if that person wasn’t supposed to be there. It was the only high security door he had access to because of how often Sensei liked to bring him down here, and for once Izuku was thankful that Sensei gave him that access.

“I—I need to unlock the first door because it’s f—finger print locked and then you need to enter the code 7412 a—at the panel in the middle to unlock the second. We can only go one at a time and if you d—don’t enter the code in seven seconds it’ll lock you in the middle and then knock you out.”

Eraserhead raised an eyebrow, moving toward the doors with a grumble of “Seven seems arbitrary.”

The indignation in the hero’s tone nearly brought a hysterical laugh out of Izuku. They were running for their lives, and Eraserhead had the gall to criticize Sensei’s choice of security protocols. He really was the coolest. “I—it is. It’s because ten is standard. N—nobody would think seven but people might guess ten.”

That got another grumpy sounding huff out of the hero, who turned to watch Izuku press his thumb to the keypad, the first set of doors unlocking as the hero stepped in, quickly entering the code and unlocking the second door and stepping through as they hissed shut behind him. He frowned at Izuku in concern when he did not immediately follow.

“Kid?”

“It takes fifteen seconds to reset between each person to keep someone from getting followed through. D—don’t worry.”

If Eraserhead found the oddly specific numbers irritating this time he didn’t comment on it. In fact, the hero seemed oddly restless, shifting in place and half-aborting sharp glances at random corners of the room. A cold feeling trickled down Izuku’s spine—what had the doctor given him, and was it going to get worse? He didn’t think he could carry the hero out of here even if he could find the exit. But one problem at at a time. The timer on the finger print lock ticked down. Eleven seconds left. He could do this. He had to make it worth it.

With an ear splitting crash, the far wall exploded inward. Izuku whirled around as Eraserhead shouted something from the other side to see the nomu slinking through the hole on all fours like some kind of nightmare, eyes locking onto Izuku’s, something frighteningly close to human yet entirely hollow meeting his gaze. The many mouths opened wide in a new chorus of yammering bloodthirsty howls.

A horrified sort of clarity struck Izuku. Soundproofing worked both ways. It might not have been able to hear them, but they had not been able to hear it chasing them until it managed to break down the wall when the door wouldn’t give. It must be using something else to track them. What purpose had Sensei designed this monster for? His eyes darted back toward the timer beside him—nine seconds.

Breaking eye contact was a mistake.

Claws scraping against the floor, the nomu charged.

________________

Tenko was lost in a sea of agony, vision white, ears ringing. His only points of contact with the real world were Sensei’s crushing grip on his mangled wrist, the searing agony of his quirk eating through his body, and the vibrations of his own throat that let him know he was screaming.

He couldn’t hold onto a thought around the all encompassing pain. There was no end and no beginning to it. It just was and there was no escape. Nothing. Not even Tenko left as it burned through him.

One point of reality vanished and a new one took its place. This one almost gentle, cupping his cheek in place of crushing his wrist, the sudden halt of Decay bringing him just far enough out of the void of agony to feel the air move next to his ear as Sensei spoke softly.

“I told you that your purpose in this world was to bring destruction. Isn’t it beautiful that after all this time you’re finally fulfilling it?”

The hand vanished from his face and Tenko felt the shards of his broken wrist scream as the grip lifted his now limp palm from whatever was left of his abdomen, fingers trailing up his chest, carving gouges as they went, brushing past his collarbone…coming to rest ever so lightly, so finally around his—

The ground rocked under him, rolling like it had come alive as something streaked just barely above his face and Decay stopped abruptly, Tenko’s limp hand falling next to his body. He lay, gasping for air and gripping onto the fragile edges of his consciousness as sound returned to the world, the deafening crashes of superpowered hit meeting superpowered hit resuming with a viciousness that far exceeded earlier.

Tenko blinked, his own ragged gasps loud in his ears as he weakly turned his head to vaguely make out the bright smudge of Dad’s hero costume some distance away.

Oh.

He blinked again, his mind going hazy, trying to pull him under again, away from the pain that was still ripping him apart from the inside out.

Breathe.

A whimper of pain in air escaping his lungs.

Not enough oxygen. Decay must have reached his lungs before Sensei stopped. His throat was raw screaming but still intact…All Might must have gotten him off just in time.

It hurt.

He wanted to go home.

Maybe he could put on a movie with Toshinori like they used to and he could fall asleep to his belly laughs and the soft undercurrent of the television.

No. No he couldn’t sleep.

He wouldn’t wake up if he let go now.

He promised Izuku he would help. He couldn’t break that promise.

Breathe. In and out.

He could feel it moving inside his chest, but hardly any of it seemed to reach him.

“—ow are you so…f*cking…heavy!?”

A ripple of new agony shocked clarity back into Tenko a second later as he rocked from side to side, his legs dragging across the rubble.

Squinting up through gritted teeth, Tenko could just make out the blurry blonde hair and red eyes of Bakugo Katsuki, blood dripping from a cut on his temple as he struggled with Tenko’s torso, arms looped under each of his armpits.

He must have blacked out for a second…when did the kid grab him? The ground was still shaking beneath them so they couldn’t be too far from the fight but he couldn’t remember Bakguo grabbing him at all.

Bakugo halted, panting heavily. He was probably injured too…Tenko was pretty sure the kid was knocked out earlier. Were they close enough for help?

Another wave of pain rolled through him, lighting his insides on fire again and he gritted his teeth, desperately trying not to start screaming in front of the kid again.

Breathe. One after another.

Only this time he might as well have been breathing water. His…his lungs must be giving out. And shock…shock was probably settling in. On top of whatever other damage Decay had done to him…his body was shutting down.

“Bakugo—” The boy startled like he hadn’t realized that Tenko was conscious, looking down at him with wide eyes. Tenko hardly recognized his own voice, hoping he was loud enough over whatever wind was blowing in his ears…or maybe that was his own breathing. “G—go get th—paramedics. N—now.”

Bakugo resumed his frantic shuffle, dragging Tenko around another low wall, the sounds of sirens and the roar of a nearby fire growing slowly louder as they cleared a corner. Not fast enough. “I’m taking you there now! Shut up you shouldn’t…shut up!”

He was quieter than he should have been for someone who was shouting less than a foot above Tenko’s head. The pain was quieter now, too…that…that wasn’t a good sign.

“Bakugo. Go.” Tenko inwardly pleaded for the kid to just listen for once in his life…if he wasn’t going to make it, he didn’t want this kid to have to see that. That was one thing he did not want to put on the teenager whose breaths had become rough and panicked, jostling Tenko’s limp head with their erratic rhythm.

“Hey…hey don’t close your eyes! Hey!” Were his eyes closed? Kid was right…he couldn’t let go now…he couldn’t sleep, not yet.

Tomorrow was his day off…he was going to take Fuyumi down by the river for a picnic…he couldn’t just leave her waiting on him like that…she’d be worried…

“Somebody help him! Hey! Help him!”

“His lips are blue!”

“Grab a stretcher!”

He could faintly feel hands scrabbling over him, feathery like the wind he was sure would be cold on his skin if he could feel anything.

“Oh my gosh…his chest is—”

He should open his eyes.

“Out of the way! Get him in the ambulance now!”

He…he still needed to take Izuku to the zoo…

________________

Shota’s heart stopped as the nomu charged at Izuku, the boy flinging himself out of the way a hair before he would have been crushed against a support pillar. The nomu crashed through it with such momentum that it bounced through several massive computers on the other end of the large hall, making the walls tremble, disappearing underneath the pile of rubble it created.

“Gonna leave him to die like you left me too?”

Shota whirled around, stumbling back to find—nothing. Only empty air where Oboro’s cheerful voice had echoed next to his ear.

Another crash.

The kid rolled onto his side, scrambling for the fingerprint lock as the nomu exploded from the pile of rubble charging at him on clumsy legs—it was fast, but it was unfinished. Izuku sprinted for the keypad console in the middle of the chamber as the nomu flung itself at the closing door. And Shota slammed a fist against the sealed door dividing them.

His eyes met the terrified round green gaze as Izuku shouted something that was lost in the nomu’s hunting call, his expression frantic and pleading.

Shota, move! It’s coming down—

For a second Izuku’s lank black hair was fuzzy and blue, almost white, the cut across the kid’s nose a breathing strip. He reached for Shota with bloody fingers, throwing himself forward to enter the code at the middle console as the nomu cleared the first door the second before it closed.

He blinked and Izuku was back, twisting as the nomu snagged the edge of his shirt, sending him just off balance enough that he fell, the dozens of mouths on the nomu howling in unison as it reached for the teenager who now scrambled toward the closing door.

When had it opened? Why was he just standing there?

Shota saw the moment the kid realized he was not going to make it. The fear, the calculations flying wildly through his eyes as they locked onto Shota’s face again. The resignation.

“Eraserhead run!”

Run? He couldn’t run. All he could do was stand in frozen horror as the building rained down around him.

The nomu’s mouths all shrieked together in triumph and the bonds holding Shota in place shattered as he abruptly came back to himself in time to see Izuku close his eyes, an arm flying up in a useless last effort in defense.

No. Not while he was still breathing.

Shota lunged for Izuku, reaching—closer, closer—his hand clapped around Izuku’s bloody wrist and he yanked them both backward hard enough that they pitched to the ground as the door snapped shut, shuddering under the weight of the nomu throwing itself against the panel, but it held.

Izuku was panting, reaching a shaky hand, scraped knuckles leaving a small smear of blood across his forehead as he stared at Shota, mouth agape. He looked like a lost child, and Shota wasn’t even sure if Izuku was seeing him with how it felt like the kid was staring through him in equal parts of shock, fear and awe.

“Y—you… Izuku swallowed, eyes filling with tears that began to leak out almost immediately, dripping down his cheeks. “You didn’t…you…you grabbed me.”

Satisfied that the kid wasn’t bleeding out or otherwise sporting broken bones, Shota nodded, hissing as his body protested when he stood, offering a hand to Izuku take. “I told you kid, we’re both getting out of here today.”

Izuku slowly pushed himself to his knees, hesitantly letting Shota help him up and flinching as the nomu renewed its frenzied attacks on the door, but turning to watch it. “I—it can’t get out of that. It’s built strong enough to hold All Might. Sensei told me himself.”

Shota nodded again, looking away from the creature and toward the narrow staircase that led to yet another damn door. At least it looked like a regular ass door. About time. They needed to hurry. If a few moments ago was any indicator Shota wasn’t sure how much time he had left before he was non-functional. He blinked as his vision went briefly blurry, the sweet scent of sakura petals reaching him, reminding him of something he couldn’t quite—no. He had to fight whatever this drug was doing to his head.

A co*cktail meant to erode the subject’s hold on reality.

Even now his heart was still racing, and if he tried to focus he could hear soft whispers just quiet enough that he couldn’t make out the words…and he’d heard Oboro, just a second ago. Words he’d only heard in nightmares he thought he’d left in his adolescence. And before in that white room, he’d thought he’d stepped into one of Oboro’s clouds again…he was losing time here and there, seeing things, hearing…they needed to go before he couldn’t protect anyone. Or worse got himself and the kid captured again because something told him Izuku wouldn’t just leave.

“Okay. We’ll leave it here then and send someone else back to contain it later.” Preferably someone like Endeavor or All Might. Not a drugged underground hero and a twig masquerading as a teenager. “Lead the way, kid.”

Izuku nodded again, wiping away a few more tears and shooting Shota a timid glance that he could not quite interpret before hurrying for the stairs, and what Shota prayed was the way to freedom.

____________

Izuku led Eraserhead down the hallways, through the kitchen where he could usually find Dabi lurking like a bat after a midnight snack, past the dining room where they only ate if Dad wanted to have a family dinner, hurrying around the corner into the hallway where Izuku’s room was, the door still slightly ajar from when Kurogiri got him the day before. Or had it been longer?

Eraserhead said they were leaving. They. As in him and Izuku. Together. Like Izuku had a future as anything other than a villain. Like he had a future at all. He didn’t know. He couldn’t know what Sensei would do to Izuku for this. How even if he left the compound there was no real way out for him. Sensei would find him. Sensei would know that he had decided to betray him. And then Sensei would kill him the same way he’d shown Izuku all those years ago with Tanahashi-san.

But if it meant that Eraserhead could go free…that just once, even if he couldn’t win, he could make sure that Sensei didn’t win either. The flame in his chest still burned hotly alongside the terror and adrenaline in his system, savagely triumphant that while he couldn’t beat his father, he could make things a lot harder for him. Slow him down. Maybe buy enough time for someone else to do what Izuku could not.

Of course he was scared.

But it would be worth it. It was already worth it.

Two more elevators later and he halted, turning to Eraserhead, swallowing his nerves.

“This is…I—I think we’re close but I don’t know anything past this. S—sensei’s office is on this floor. If…if there’s a way out I think it would be this way. Sensei likes to watch things so he—he would probably put himself where he had that option nearby.”

Eraserhead blinked, swaying slightly and staring at Izuku for a few seconds, one of his hands rising to wave through the air a few inches above Izuku’s head before he shook himself hard.

“Right. Are there windows in his office?”

“I…I don’t think so.” He’d been in Sensei’s receiving office a few times, but the only thing he’d ever seen covering the walls were—Izuku froze. “But we n—need to get into his office. It has a bunch of tvs that are connected to the cameras. One of them has to show the entrance. He meets with guests there so it’s not one he locks.”

Dad liked to show his guests that he knew everything that happened in this compound, or if he wanted to be subtle, a panel descended to cover them. But it wasn’t a real office—his actual research was kept in his private lab below them. Even Izuku had only seen it once.

But Eraserhead only nodded, letting Izuku lead them to the tall double doors to the office. He stopped, fingers trembling on the handle for a second before he pushed it open. He wasn’t going to see Sensei.

A stronger vibration shook the floor and Izuku stumbled a step or two. An earthquake? Or could it be whatever Sensei was called away to deal with? But they needed to hurry. There was no telling when he would come back.

But there it was, the wall of monitors showing cameras all over the compound—the living room, the kitchen, the halls, a few less secret lab rooms, approximately eleven monitors showed nothing but static and another three seemed to have some kind of thick smoke blowing past and then—there!

That had to be it. The door was nondescript, but two cameras were pointed at it from either side of the hall, ensuring that nothing could come in or out without being noticed, and Izuku had never seen that door. He recognized the pattern of the orange and gold carpet leading up to it though.

“There. I—I think that’s it.” Eraserhead dropped a hand onto his shoulder as a larger quake shook the building, sending them both off balance.

“Good, let’s go.” He gave Izuku a little shove, glancing up at the ceiling in worry as a few pebbles dropped down beside them. Izuku swallowed. The frequency with which the shaking had been occurring was increasing alongside the strength. Whatever was happening, it was big. But Izuku refused to move, rocking in place at the motion. He couldn’t quite believe it had been so close. All this time. It had been right here.

Eraserhead stopped, turning to fix Izuku with frown. “Kid?”

“I—It’s through here.” Izuku stepped softly over to a door on the far side of the office that he had never really paid much attention to, where a rich orange and gold rug disappeared under into whatever the next area was. He’d always been so focused on Sensei…on surviving whatever fresh lesson he had to learn that he had never really noticed it.

The handle was cold as he tugged the door open and stepped across the thick, soft carpet into a small antichamber with three doors. One he just came through, shuffling aside for Eraserhead to follow, the other was an elevator and if Izuku had to guess it was for regular henchmen to go in and out of the compound—there were several elevators he did not get access to so that would make sense. The last door, straight across the room, was flanked by two cameras on either side, just barely catching the end of the carpet in their frame.

His mouth was suddenly dry, and unable to speak, he pointed wordlessly toward the final door, stumbling after Eraserhead’s purposeful, if not slightly winding stride.

The hero reached out to grasp the doorknob and Izuku held his breath, but it easily turned, not even locked, and Eraserhead pushed it out into a cacophony of sound and smoke drifting across a purple night sky, making Izuku’s eyes water as it drifted inside. To the right, half a building spat fire from the windows, the other half mysteriously missing, and the wail of sirens was an almost deafening chorus.

The hero stumbled against the doorframe as another distant boom sounded and the ground rolled in response, almost sending Izuku to his knees. Then Eraserhead took another step and was walking away into the night. Izuku stared, hardly daring to believe his eyes. It was…was it really that simple?

He took another step forward, his bare toes just on the cold metal threshold, watching Eraserhead’s retreating back.

He could feel his thoughts racing, so quickly that he couldn’t discern one from the other. The hot flame inside him was raging now, painful and wild inside his chest, feeding off of the reluctant hope that blossomed inside him at the sight of the night sky and the distant skyscrapers he now recognized as downtown Mustafu. So the compound wasn’t in the wilds of Hokkaido or somewhere else in the far regions of the world. It was right here all along. The city looked so close that Izuku felt like he could touch it, struck by the strange beauty of artificial stars on the horizon from the skyscraper lights even as the heat kissed his skin from the nearby buildings.

The world was terrifying. And it was so beautiful. Even as it burned around him, Izuku couldn’t help but think that it was so beautiful.

He…he wanted to live. Not just to breathe but to live and see a future. To build his future with his own hands.

A tear slipped down his cheek.

He wanted to live.

One step.

Then another.

Izuku’s feet left the soft carpet of the compound and brushed against the cold, dusty concrete of the rubble strewn alley.

Another step.

And another, quickly this time as he broke into a run to catch up with Eraserhead.

Snap.

Izuku felt the crack of something invisible break somewhere between his shoulder blades and without warning, agony rained down through him—settling in his stomach, spreading until it wrapped around him like a blanket, stealing his breath as he collapsed like a puppet with its string cut, dust and gravel and ash digging into his cheek, mixing with the blood he could feel sprouting from his nose.

There was a loud ringing in his ears, drowning out the sounds of the sirens, the sound of his own breathing, his vision flickering and blurring with tears, his head in a vice grip.

Oh.

He didn’t think it would happen so quickly…

Vaguely he could make out a dark shape dropping down beside him, gentle hands turning him over as hot blood started to leak from his eyes and ears.

Hands reaching, grasping onto Tomura but not Izuku.

The portal snapping shut, leaving him all alone. So terribly, horribly alone.

Stay with me.

The dark shape solidified.

Eraserhead came back.

He blinked slowly, red washing his vision again as the hero’s pale face briefly came into view, mouth moving frantically with words Izuku couldn’t quite make out, their urgency dulled like he was deep underwater.

He blinked again, the world going reddish pink with his tears for a moment.

Stay with me.

Run!

Eraserhead’s hand shooting out and yanking Izuku back a split second before the nomu’s teeth would have ripped him apart.

He’d been prepared to sacrifice himself for Eraserhead to escape—that was his priority. Izuku was already a dead man walking—he had accepted that. He knew heroes weren’t coming to save him anymore.

He hadn’t…it had never crossed his mind that Eraserhead might come back for him until he felt the hand close around his wrist and yank him from the jaws of death. He had been five years old again for just a second, seeing around All Might’s burning eyes lock onto him as he dove forward and snatched Tomura from the wide mouth of the portal—leaving him behind.

But he’d opened his eyes and Eraserhead was holding onto him like nothing could have made him let go. Kind of how the grip on his shoulders was tightening right now. It made him feel…safe. Yeah, that was the word. Safe. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt that.

Izuku stared dully at the hero’s face, wondering dimly what he was saying. He looked upset. Izuku tried to speak, to choke out his gratitude, to reassure him that it was okay, but his lips were numb, only a few flecks of blood rising to pepper his lips.

It was getting harder to hold onto consciousness through the wash of pain flowing over him, spreading from his navel out like ripples in a pond.

He really…he wished he could thank Eraserhead properly. Tell him it was worth it…that he saved Izuku already, and this was always going to happen sooner or later…

His eyes found the night sky again, a shooting star streaking across—no wait, a helicopter. Oh well. Close enough. Izuku had never been lucky enough to see one anyway. But the helicopter was enough.

“No…no no no…you’ll be okay…keep your eyes on me.”

The night was still beautiful.

“Oboro…come on help’s coming. Please look at me! Help! Somebody help! Please!”

Izuku’s eyes slid shut.

“Stay with me…”

____________

All Might stared through the glass, observing the scrawny, sickly pale boy lying still in the hospital bed, the rising and falling of his chest barely visible through the blankets. He still had not woken, but the doctors were confident it would happen soon.

So young.

With all the tubes and monitors trailing from him, he looked so much younger than the fifteen years he knew Midoriya Izuku to be. But staring at him, Toshinori was painfully reminded of another young boy he’d watched just like this—the only difference was that one was spitting fire, while this one…this one was just embers clinging to life after eleven years alone with All For One.

But embers could be fanned back to life. If Aizawa was to be believed, the boy had acted in express defiance of his father and saved Shota’s life. The Hero Commission was implying that the boy’s rebellion, even if it was genuine which they did not believe it to be, was insignificant in the grand scheme of his involvement with the USJ attacks. Toshinori knew that to be absolutely ridiculous. The amount of terror and fear All For One inspired, in addition to his mastermind level manipulation tactics, made any act against him, no matter how minor, especially from one as young as Izuku, no small matter.

He must be a truly exceptional child to have retained so much of himself while learning about the world from his father’s knee. Not that he had escaped unscathed—on the contrary, Toshinori knew that Izuku would have a very long road ahead of him to escape the shadow of All For One.

The only problem with this line of thinking was that Aizawa tested positive for approximately a dozen different drugs when the paramedics brought him in and he had only just regained consciousness a day ago. The commission would use that to try and discredit his testimony in Izuku’s favor.

And they did not know if Izuku had inherited his father’s quirk on top of that, hence the quirk suppressing band he could see on the boy’s wrist. A precaution, he had been told, one that he knew was necessary until Izuku opened his eyes and confirmed that he was not a threat.

However, Toshinori was inclined to believe that Izuku’s rebellion was not engineered as a ploy by All For One, and he had suffered the consequences of it. A quirk bioengineered to send his internal organs into failure set to a specific trigger. Eraser said it happened just after Izuku had crossed the threshold of All For One’s stronghold—it must have been acting almost like an invisible fence. It was cruel. And the quirk worked slowly enough to cause debilitating pain but not immediate death if dealt with quickly, which implied that Izuku would have been retrieved and brought back underground had he done this at any other point in time.

No, Toshinori’s instincts were all telling him that this was not a trick, and Izuku was not a threat—it would just be a matter of convincing the Hero Commission, too.

And Tenko—Toshinori’s heart twisted painfully, glancing down the hall where his son’s room was—Tenko would help.

If he woke. No, when he woke.

Tenko was still on life support in a medically induced coma while he healed, entombed in a sanitized chamber while the doctors worked multiple times a day to repair the damage dealt to his lungs and chest cavity. He was too weak for Recovery Girl to step in, but the hospital was a trauma center for a reason, and Toshinori knew Tenko was in good hands with the small army of doctors attending to him.

But it was hard. Nobody could touch him except for the doctors who entered for treatment, thoroughly sanitized so as not to introduce any more contaminants he was too weak to fight off. He was already battling a raging infection from his initial injury and could not afford to get another. Toshinori had been with him since the paramedics cleared him four days ago, only stepping away now to give Fuyumi some time alone with Tenko, feeling her understanding eyes follow him out the door as he felt every other eye in the building catch on him when he passed.

He wasn’t quite sure when he decided to check on Izuku, but he was relieved at least to see that the boy really was in one piece and still breathing. He would have to tell Tenko. The doctors had encouraged him to talk with him even when unconscious—it would be nice to finally share some good news.

Thankfully nobody in the secure ward commented on his current form. He felt…strange…being able to walk around as himself and hear the murmurs of “All Might” in his wake.

The embers of One For All were still there…and he could still fight and serve as the symbol of peace, but that fire was weakening and now the whole world knew it. He had pushed himself so far beyond his time limit that there was no going back to his former strength.

Semi-retirement…

He looked back as Izuku shifted, but the monitors surrounding him remained steady and he fell still again.

Embers. No wonder fire metaphors were on his mind.

But it was worth it.

All For One was rotting in Tartarus.

He would get to hug his son again, and that was a blessing he feared he’d lost when he’d desperately ripped All For One off of Tenko. Dabi had escaped along with the rest of the league of villains. The battle was far from over, and it was time, Toshinori knew, for him to get serious about finding a new bearer of One For All. Someone new to carry the torch forward. Not just for peace, but for hope.

But for this moment he let himself breathe. He refused to let All For One steal this one victory from their grasp.

They were alive.

They were here.

And that was no small thing.

Chapter 18: Chapter 18

Chapter Text

Contrary to popular belief, Shota did not like cloudy days much. He liked being able to find a quiet place out in the sun, away from the chaos that usually engulfed his house where none of the kids could find him, and take nice naps while soaking up warmth of its rays. He loved listening to the quiet breeze hissing softly among the leaves of the ginkgo tree in the abandoned park near the apartment, the quiet calls of birds chattering among each other and the distant strains of the local high school’s brass band practicing his only companions. Unless of course he got lucky and Ebi, the scrawny, shrimpy stray who lived in the area decided to come and nap curled up neatly on his chest, her tiny tail flicking as she watched the birds above them in the ginkgo tree.

So no, Shota didn’t like it when there were no warm patches of grass, perfect for napping in the park. That did not, however, mean that he desired to live slightly north of the actual entrance to hell, slowly and miserably building a swamp in his lower back from sweating in the merciless summer heat. Anything would be better than this. He could practically feel his skin burning…the back of his neck was going to blister at this rate…he had never envied Hizashi and his natural ability to tan more than he had in this exact moment—

A shadow passed over him, blocking out the rays of the sun and almost immediately lowering the temperature around him by a few degrees. A light mist started to drizzle on him a few seconds later and Shota looked up to find a cheerful grin and a shock of bluish white hair peering at him from the small cloud that now hovered above him in the otherwise cloudless day.

“Can I help you?”

Shirakumo’s grin widened. Shota could only see his head peeking down through the cloud, but he could practically feel the other boy shrug.“If I didn’t do it then you would have attracted your own soon enough with that expression. Not a sunny day guy, huh Aizawa?”

Shota scowled. “I like the sun just fine. I just don’t see the point in spending time in an oven when there’s a perfectly good park ten minutes away. With trees. And shade.”

If anything, Shirakumo’s grin widened. “Then why’d you come?”

That really was a great question.

Why did he come?

He came because these two idiots hadn’t left him alone since he’d joined the heroics course after summer break and they’d worn him down. And maybe, just maybe he could admit that he liked that they treated him like any other heroics hopeful, and talked enough for all three of them so he didn’t have to unless he had something to say.

Friends.

The realization hit Shota more abruptly than it should have considering that his mother nagged him enough about how he needed more of them.

He came because they were his friends.

Shota looked back to where Hisashi was enthusiastically chasing a seagull through the shallows of the waves. “Because Yamada acts like a kicked puppy if he doesn’t get his way.”

A skeptical hum from above him drew Shota’s attention back up to Shirakumo, who was eyeing him with an intently raised eyebrow, grin still firmly in place. “You sure it’s not because you like us around?”

Shota rolled his eyes, looking away to hide the heat on his cheeks that had nothing to do with the summer day. In fact, he was pleasantly cool now under the mist and shade of Shirakumo’s cloud. “I already told you I’m not here to make friends.”

There was a bright, warm laugh above him. “Well I am, and I like you, Aizawa! Even if you won’t admit it, I’m glad we’re friends–ha! I can see you blushing–I knew it! You do like us around! Just wait until I tell Hizashi–actually we should wait until we’re at school or he’ll blow our ears out–”

Shota buried his now burning face in his hands. “Oboro would you just shut up–”

“Oboro??? Keep digging, Sho-ta! You can’t deny we’re friends if you’re calling me by my name now.”

The mist was now turning to rain as Oboro’s control slipped with his laughter, but even with his embarrassment Shota couldn’t quite find the energy to get angry or deny it longer. It would be an illogical waste of resources in this heat.

He really was glad they were his friends.

“Shota…”

What did Oboro want now?

“Shota?”

He flopped an arm up blindly, hoping to discourage Oboro from poking him as he pried open gummy eyes to gaze blearily up at the yellow blur hovering over him.

“Shota?” The voice cracked a little at the end, and Shota blinked hard a few times, his vision slowly coming back into focus. What happened? His head felt like it had been split open and sewn back together again at least three times, throbbing angrily, his confusion only growing with the dawning, persistent worry that something was definitely out of place.

“...zashi?”

He didn’t have more time to ask questions as arms wrapped around him, dragging him upward into a crushing embrace, Hizashi letting out a long, shuddering breath into his neck.

“You’re safe. You’re safe I’m here. It’s…you’re safe.”

Shota’s brain took that moment to abruptly snap back into gear and he felt himself going stiff in Hizashi’s arms.

“The kids–” Shota barely managed to choke the words out over his dry throat and the raging panic that flared inside him as images of the past few days (had it been days?) rushed back to him. The summer camp. All of the injured students. All For One. Tenko’s mysterious sensei. The truth behind nomu. He still hadn’t found Bakugo–and Izuku was–

“They’re alive. I promise. Everyone’s…” Hizashi swallowed thickly. “Everyone’s alive.”

Hizashi sat back to arrange the pillows behind him with one arm before gently leaning Shota back against them, looking him up and down critically. He looked awful, bright blonde hair dull and oily in the bun that currently held what Shota was certain was a rat’s nest of tangles back. There were deep bags under his eyes and the nails on his left hand, which brushed a strand of hair away from Shota’s eyes, were jagged stumps.

“How…how long was I…what happened, Hizashi?”

Hizashi eyed him carefully, the look in his eyes reserved for the rare times when Shota was woken from a night terror–seeing it in the bright hospital lighting set him deeply on edge.

“How much do you remember?”

Shota frowned. “The training camp was attacked and they kidnapped Bakugo and me. All For One–Tenko’s sensei was there with his kid, Izuku.” Beside him Hizashi stiffened. “I think I was a target, too. He’s been…those nomu were people, Hizashi. Or at least they started like that. He wanted to make me into one and he would have if Izuku hadn’t helped me get out. Then the second we got across the door…” Oboro’s bloody face flashed across his face, green eyes locked trustingly on him as they slid shut. But Oboro’s eyes were blue. And he died fourteen years ago. He looked back up at Hizashi. “I was high out of my mind wasn’t I?”

Hizashi’s smile didn’t reach his eyes. “Pretty much, yeah. You tested positive for around a dozen different hallucinogens and stimulants when they brought you in. You were out for a few days, woke up just long enough to give the bare minimum of what happened and then it was like a second wave of whatever they gave you kicked in. You’ve been in and out of it since but you haven’t really…been yourself until now.”

Shota nodded slowly, letting out a long breath and rubbing his eyes with the heels of his hands. “Bakugo and Izuku.”

“Izuku went into organ failure but they managed to stabilize him. Toshinori tells me the doctors say he should wake up sometime this week–”

“He went into what?” Shota gaped up at his husband, his mind finally processing what was coming out of Hizashi’s mouth. He could recall flashes of pleading with Oboro–no–no that had to have been Izuku. A co*cktail meant to erode the subject’s hold on reality. sh*t. That wasn’t a total hallucination at all. sh*t sh*t sh*t. He rubbed his temples, feeling Hizashi slip a warm hand into his.

“They think it was a quirk that caused it, so now that the effects were triggered and have passed, there shouldn’t be any danger of it happening again…in all likelihood it was something set up by All For One as insurance. Or if you ask the HSPC, a very elaborate scheme to gain our sympathy.”

Shota scowled. “That kid was as a much a prisoner as me. All For One–the guy Tenko called Sensei when he was a kid, was basically waging psychological warfare on Izuku with me in the middle and I bet he’d been doing it before I showed up. And they would have made me into a nomu if the kid hadn’t stopped it. Trust me he’s not–” His throat chose that moment to close up, remembering how dry it was as Shota broke off in a coughing fit. A cup of water found its way to his face a couple moments later and he gratefully took it, refraining from downing it in one gulp.

Hizashi was staring, a small frown painting his face. “Yeah, you said a few similar things when you first woke up just less…coherently.”

Shota scowled, rubbing his eyes and taking another sip of water. “Well I’m saying it now, too. And I’ll say it again when they come to get my testimony. It was…the poor kid didn’t even know where the front door was. He wasn’t allowed to.”

Hizashi grimaced, a small flash of anger crossing his face before it settled into something close to sadness. “I believe you, Shota. Something’s felt off about this since he first emerged–we both felt it, but this actually explains a lot, if you think about it. All the little things that didn’t quite add up when you compare his attitude and actions over the past few months. I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t still a little wary–even if he was a prisoner, Izuku did try to kill you, but I’m willing to give the kid a fighting chance if he saved you.”

Shota slumped back against his pillows in relief. He’d been prepared to argue Hizashi into seeing reason but that didn’t mean he wanted to have to first thing after waking up from what must have been the worst trip of his entire life. Thank goodness for brilliant, intuitive, kind Hizashi and his open heart and mind. “That’s all I need. The kid can do the rest himself when he wakes up. And if the HSPC doesn’t believe me then we can get Tsukauchi to interview him when he wakes up. At the very least that can settle the bullsh*t idea that the kid’s a plant.”

Hizashi’s frown stayed in place. “I hope you’re right…it’s just that…you know what nevermind. Not here.”

A distant alarm bell sounded in the back of Shota’s head, but one look at Hizashi told him that whatever it was he would not be getting it out of his husband today, even if his head wasn’t already pounding. Whatever it was, Hizashi would tell him when he was ready. “Okay. And Bakugo?”

“He got released the day after we rescued you. A minor concussion, some surface burns and a few bad bruises are all. We have Tenko to thank for that. They fixed him up and he’s home with his folks now. And now that you’re awake, that means most of the drugs must have worked their way through so we might get to go home soon.”

Hizashi’s phone beeped softly and he glanced at it, a small, anxious look crossing his face as he glanced back at Shota.

“What is it?”

Hizashi picked up his phone. “Oh, it’s just Toshinori. He’s asking me if I could sit with Tenko for a few minutes while he talks to Tsukauchi. Fuyumi got caught at work.”

The hairs on the back of Shota’s neck prickled. “...sit with him?”

_____________________

Someone was humming. A soft, wordless tune that was both gentle and sweet. It reminded him of something…something that used to happen a lot, a long time ago. Someone used to sing to him all the time with a voice just like this one. Maybe there were words, maybe there weren’t…but all that mattered was that he didn’t want the voice to stop. He wanted it closer…closer and safer, cocooning him in a world of quiet, gentle sound where nothing else existed. Nothing else mattered.

He tried to shift closer, the sound coming from somewhere nearby, but a crackle of pain echoed through him, sharp and jagged, while at the same time the voice cut off. In the hushed silence there was someone breathing, a quiet, soft groan that bordered on a whimper split the silence, barely audible and somehow deafening.

He wished the voice would come back. The pain wouldn’t matter so much if the voice was there because that meant everything was going to be okay…that’s what it always meant before, after all. Why would it be any different now?

He grit his teeth, at least he thought he had teeth, it was hard to tell in the nebulous darkness that was seemingly endless but that wasn’t important now, what he needed was for–there it was, starting up even closer to wherever he was.

Closer.

Closer.

The crackles of pain were meaningless in his quest to find the peace the voice provided–he bumped against something solid. He must be solid too, then.

But then the solid something moved, and there was a hand in his hair, fingers lightly caressing the curls, brushing against his scalp and sending cascades of pleasant chills down his spine, pulling him ever so slightly more into his own body.

He could open his eyes and see who was so gently brushing their fingers through his hair, but then again…they might stop, or it might be a dream.

The voice was humming again, just above him, now, wrapping him in warmth and safety once more, and he felt the crackles of pain receding until all that was left was peace.

It was warm and he was so so tired.

He could feel himself sliding peacefully back into the inky void that was now his home, but that was okay.

He was too tired to pull himself out of the peaceful darkness just yet, his thoughts floating aimlessly, painlessly along to the current of the song.

He didn’t even notice when he slipped back into a deep sleep.

_______________

Izuku finally went still, the furrows in his brow smoothing out as he nestled closer to her hand, like a puppy searching for warmth. Fuyumi smiled at the uncanny image even as her heart broke just a little.

She kept humming quietly, a tune Mom used to sing to her that she’d in turn sung to Shoto when he was little, and now Izuku, who had restlessly started tossing about half an hour ago, small, pained noises slipping out of him when his tossing twisted him in odd ways that hurt his internal wounds.

Tenko told her a lot about Izuku, once he’d finally told her that his adopted brother existed. She knew that he’d idolized All Might as a child, that his favorite color was green like his mother’s hair and that he hated pickled ginger.

She knew that he roped Tenko into playing pretend even when he was being groomed as a weapon. Sometimes she wondered if she had the child before her to thank that Tenko held onto himself long enough to be rescued at all, if he was the only one who saw another boy and not a weapon.

But that was all speculation.

Fuyumi knew that Izuku was a kind child who loved easily, stubbornly, even, if he attached himself to Tenko at that age. She could well remember how prickly Tenko was when they first met, and even that had been after Toshinori had taken him to extensive therapy to help him heal from the damage Sensei wrought.

But the teenager now cuddling against her like he hadn’t been touched in years, body pressed against the rails of the hospital bed, cheek smooshed against her palm while her other hand played in the lank strands of his choppy, uneven haircut, had not had that chance. His childhood had undoubtedly been marked by the distinct lack of being a child.

She could understand that. She’d watched it. She’d lived it. But that made it no less heartbreaking to see it laid out in front of her.

Shoto cuddled in his sleep, too, in the rare times when he fell asleep against her on the couch nowadays when Dad was away for a long job. It was then that she wondered if she’d failed him, seeing how tightly he clung when he was not awake enough to hold up the walls he’d built to keep everyone, including her, out. Dad was the focus of all his anger, but he did not reach out to her or Natsuo the way he had when he was little during the rare times they were allowed to play together. She knew she was a child when everything happened…knew he was a child, and she’d done her best to protect him as much as she could but it wasn’t enough, and her heart ached for her little brother.

Dad had never hit him outside of sparring, of that she was certain. If that day came, Fuyumi would freeze their father to a wall herself. But even so, she knew Shoto had never been allowed to be a child like the rest of them, even before what happened with Mom. He was too young to remember that it hadn’t always been like this. She couldn’t blame him for being angry. But she did not know how to fix this. To be a real family again…not whatever this was now.

Tenko had helped a lot, actually. More than he realized–and even if Shoto wouldn’t outright say it, Fuyumi knew that he looked up to him. Her brother wouldn’t exactly cling to the her boyfriend, but he did hover in proximity whenever they were in the same room so she knew. He had also insisted that Tenko be allowed to come to his birthday dinner–which she still wasn’t sure if it was for her benefit or his. But that was Shoto–her little brother was undeniably still the kind, sweet little boy she remembered even if he was hiding behind an impenetrable shell.

Izuku stirred again, but it was smaller than last time, only a slight turn to press more of his face into her palm. She kept her fingers playing with his hair–Shoto loved that when he was a kid, too. Though when he woke maybe Izuku would let her or someone even out whoever had butchered what she was sure must have been the most lovely little curl pattern if some of the longer strands were any indicator.

Her fingers paused on a strand of black hair that faded into grey and then green an inch or so off of his head…that was odd. It didn’t look like a quirk induced hair change that looked like a hastily done…really bad dye job. She’d had a friend in high school who did as much every other week because her quirk could remove artificial pigmentation so she didn’t care whether or not her newest experiment looked good.

Mai had actually struggled a lot with such a mundane sounding quirk because she kept accidentally bleaching spots of her own clothing since it was touch based. She was a fashion designer now.

But it looked like someone had hastily applied black dye and cut off Izuku’s hair. Maybe in the same session, if she had a guess. She wondered why, but that was a minor mystery in comparison to what was swirling around him.

She wasn’t privy to the hushed meetings between Toshinori and Tsukauchi, but she wasn’t deaf and the shouting match Detective Tsukauchi got into with a Hero Commission representative had been difficult not to hear.

So far Izuku was still officially in Mustafu police custody, with All Might as the acting hero on his case, and until he woke nobody would be able to move that custody since he could not exonerate or implicate himself. Still, they didn’t know what quirk he had, so the quirk suppressing band on his arm stayed in place until they knew whether or not he would be dangerous.

Technically speaking, Fuyumi was fairly certain she did not have the clearance to visit him, but there was surprisingly low security once you got past the initial security checkpoints that were at the entrance of the hero’s ward. And Tsukauchi was turning a blind eye when she gave Toshinori time alone with Tenko and ended up here.

She was grateful for that.

Tenko…Tenko still wasn’t awake. She was almost glad for that just because she knew he would be in so much pain if he was but even so…

She really wanted to see his eyes.

She couldn’t touch him.

It was horrible, sitting so close and not being able to help him at all. And she knew Toshinori felt the same way by how he gently squeezed her shoulders and told her to eat. Toshinori was a mother hen, and while it had taken some time to get used to having someone fussing over her when she first started to get close to Tenko, she’d come to respect and rely on him. He had helped keep her sane the past week.

Well, him and Shoto, who would show up unannounced with containers of soba and a round eyed stare until she ate with him. She loved her baby brother. She loved Toshinori.

She loved Tenko.

She hoped he would be well enough to wake up soon.

But until then, she made sure to check on Izuku, too. Tenko wouldn’t want his long lost baby brother to be alone in this either. And now looking at him, Fuyumi didn’t want to leave him alone to face the world when he woke either. He clearly needed someone. He needed someone like Tenko. Like Toshinori.

Someone strong and solid as a rock.

She was none of those things.

But she would have to be enough until her rock could come back to them.

And she would be.

Izuku shifted again, but it was even smaller than before, the relaxed lines of his face highlighting the freckles on his round cheeks.

Fuymi kept singing.

______________________

Someone was talking close by, a deep voice with a cheerful, almost lilting tone. That did not sound like Kurogiri’s voice, so who was it?

“...and then can you believe this next part? They hid the lighting bolt on him the entire time! I should have seen it coming–no wonder so many monsters were attracted to them while they were on that quest…” The voice broke off into a soft chuckle, a sigh coming from somewhere to his right.

His entire body ached, inside and out, like he had been wrung out like a sponge.

Where was he?

A sudden fear gripped Izuku as flashes of his run from the compound returned to him. Where was Eraserhead? Did they make it out? How was he still alive and had Dad…had Sensei decided to keep him alive?

Why?

He opened his eyes, hearing a soft beeping racing alongside his heart and he found himself staring into the bright blue eyes of a skinny man with wild yellow-blonde hair. He looked about as surprised as Izuku felt, setting aside a well-worn copy of a book.

A quick glance around and it looked like there was a hospital bed and lots of monitors, a door with key carded lock, curtains blocking the view in or out and a quirk suppressing band around his wrist.

A hospital?

Izuku’s growing panic grew another tick, burning through the haze in his mind, adrenaline giving him clarity.

Not all of Sensei’s traps started in cells.

The man watching him leaned forward, hands carefully folded in his lap. Nothing in them, not reaching for him. Izuku gulped, wincing when his dry throat protested. For a moment neither of them spoke.

Izuku blinked.

The man blinked.

Then he smiled.

“Well good morning, young Izuku. I’m glad to see you’re finally awake.”

“Who–who are you?” Izuku’s voice cracked, unable to keep the fear he was feeling from bleeding into his voice.

The man’s smile faded a little, his eyes softening. Izuku couldn’t help but relax just a little when he spoke–his voice was quiet and reassuring. “My name is Yagi Toshinori. I’m Tenko’s dad. You’re safe and in the hospital. Eraserhead brought you here. All For One is in prison.”

Safe?

Prison?

Tears started to leak from his eyes, dripping down his face.

What?

What did that even mean?

It couldn’t be real.

It was almost like Toshinori heard his thoughts, repeating softly but firmly. “You’re safe. This isn’t a trick.” He held out an arm, with small grin. “You can even pinch me if you aren’t sure. But I promise nobody will hurt you here. You’re safe.”

Izuku wanted to ask more questions, his mind racing, but he was so exhausted from his initial panic that all it did was spin in place like a stuck tire, mired with confusion and painful hope, too overwhelmed to form a coherent thought or question.

It was all he could do to focus on Toshinori’s voice as he repeated himself again in that same calming, firm tone. Steady and certain.

Izuku could feel the world rapidly becoming distant again, his strength giving out as the adrenaline faded.

He didn’t want to sleep.

Not now. Not so soon.

Safe?

But he did.