Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

1.

Your cell phone rings. The Caller ID injects dread in your heart. MIGHT AGENCY. You have to swallow three times before you find the courage to answer. "Hel--?"

Triumphant music trumpets from your cheap staticy speaker. "Hello Citizen! This is an automated message from your Number One Hero to remind you it's cold and flu season! Remember to wear a mask in public if you or a loved one has shown symptoms, wash your hands, and get plenty of rest! Remember, with proper hygiene, you too can be a Hero!"

Ah. Well, that's very proactive of him. Good. You hang up in the midst of peppy outro music. Good…

"I can't keep doing this," you say to yourself. And you can't. Your voice is lost in the rumble of the city bus, the cry of an infant a few seats away, and the rasp of your own sore throat. You're not sick, thankfully. You have to wear a mask in public to prevent any possibility of that. It wouldn't do for the healer to need healing, would it? You are, however, strained from travel and work. Your quirk is demanding enough when you can stay in one spot. Every day a different hospital, every day a different travel route. Every day a gloomy adventure. "I'm too old to live like this."

At dusk, the bus whines to a halt at your stop. You exit, grateful the length of your skirt disguises a minor abuse of your quirk. Going down the stairs can be a death sentence on an ankle like yours. Your feet find the ground, you find your bearings, and you begin the journey home. You glance at your watch and use the reflection to see who else is exiting. Two others. One, a schoolboy with unruly hair, his ear to his phone, humming along with the theme music of All Might's agency. The other, a man in a dark hoodie and jacket, hands jammed in the pockets, taking your sidewalk path. 

Probably nothing, but a lady can never be too careful. You reach for your phone, dial a friend you're certain will be awake and off the clock, and wait. A click, then a series of rumbling sounds, like the screen of a phone being dragged across bed sheets. "F/N, hey!!"

"Hey Cinder, I'm on my way back. Just calling to make sure plans are still on."

"Huh? That's vague as hell. Do you mean our weekend plans? Or about karaoke on the eleventh?"

You peek behind you as you round the block and, to your horror, the man in the dark jacket is taking the same route. "Y-yeah, great! That's great, I'm pumped." It's probably nobody. Lots of people live in these neighborhoods, you remind yourself. But you can't remember ever seeing him before. And there's something about the way he carries himself. Certain. Jagged. It's familiar in the worst way. 

"What the fuck? Are you high, F/N?"

"Me? No! No, of course not," you say with a laugh that fails you in its last notes, drowns in your ragged throat to betray your fear. "Hey, Cin, doesn't Screech have a new boyfriend? He's going to be there too, right?"

"F/N, I really don't have time for this right now. I'm gonna call you back after I have some coffee or something."

She hangs up on you. You keep the phone where it is, pressed to your ear, pretending it's not over and wishing you had a smarter friend. 

You swear there's breath on the back of your neck. If you needed to use the darker side of your quirk to save yourself, at any second, could you? You're split between saving your breath and carrying on the charade, your only shield. Please think I'm expected. Please think I'm not somebody you can get away with attacking. "I can't wait to meet him," you chirp. "I'll be there any minute." Your other hand is in your pocket, desperate to find your apartment keys. 

After an eternity, you find them. The shade of tall, unlit buildings on all sides chills you. On one side of the street, unoccupied, unfinished structures of cement and iron. On the other, laundry lines and decorated steel railings, homes stacked upon homes. There's a small mirror attached to your key ring, which you direct to peek behind you. It… It doesn't seem there's anyone there. You can't hear anybody coming.

"… Oh, really? That's great to hear, Cinder. She's been pretty sad lately, about her mother? So it's super encouraging to see her--"

Your phone rings. You bring it away from your ear with a trembling hand to see the Might Agency Caller ID again. Flu season.

Wire loops your neck, vices, bites in. Can't breathe. You drop your phone. You wrench against your attacker and choke. 

Pinned, pulled, pressed to the wall, garroted. Can't breathe. Not enough to use your quirk. Not a gasp. The world goes too dark too fast. You loose footing.

"I know who you are," he purrs against your ear. "You couldn't hide from all of us, not forever. You can't hide from him."

Your fingernails cut into your own skin trying to grab the wire. You can't quite feel them. Your fingertips. Your toes. 

"Let her go!"

It's hard to see through the haze of suffocation. You force yourself to adjust your eyes. Stay awake. Down the alley stands the schoolboy who got off at your bus stop, stance wide with mock bravery, trembling. He holds his phone up in the darkness. "I already called the police and Pro Heroes are on their way! Let her go right now!"

You are wrenched to the side and slammed on the ground but you can breathe again. You suck air so hard you nearly vomit. The man flees into the darkness on silent, certain feet.

The kid hurries to you but it's plain to see his legs are as sturdy as gelatin. "Are you alright?" he says with a quaking voice. Everything catches up to you at once. How long you were followed, in the dark, on your way home, by a villain who knew, who *knew* your face or voice or… And the boy who saved your life was a child. A villain tried to kill you in the shadow of your own home, and a middle schooler saved your life. Bless his spindly bones, he was a godsend. "Are you alright?" he asks again when you don't answer. He's on the cusp of tears. You're well beyond.

You throw your arms around the child. "Thank you," you weep against his scrawny shoulder and a chest far too small to contain the heart beating wildly within. "Thank you!" 

He freezes in your grasp, uncertain, processing. Then he hugs back. No words, but many whimpers fall from his lips. You can only imagine how awful it must have been for him to come across the gruesome scene. You pray he won't have nightmares. 

"Thank you. Thank you. Thank you."

2.

Midoriya struggles to both move the enormous, heaping pile of scrap across the beach and speak to his idol. All Might isn't making it easier; he continues to add junk to the pile even as the ropes Izuku relies on fray. But he wouldn't have it any other way. This is the fastest way to improve, and the most meaningful. "Is it true you took down the Tsunami Sundivers with a single punch?"

"Yep!" All Might, small today, flexes his form for an instant to show off the glorious muscles credited with that deed. "Texas Smash, right across the center of their formation, and all of them went down!"

Amazing. All Might is every bit the living legend Izuku dreamed he might be. The Symbol of Peace. The Strongest Hero. Number One. Izuku tosses a broken television in its proper recycling pile, then flexes as his mentor had and wonders if he will ever take out a gang of villains with one punch. That day seems a million years away, but not impossible. 

"Hey!" Izuku looks around, trying to find where the voice is coming from. Failing, he sees All Might shrink to his original form in a puff of smoke and cussing. "Hey," somebody calls out again.

Izuku spots a woman leaning against the railing overlooking the stairway entrance to the Dagoba Municipal Beach. "Oh, hey!" He waves back with double enthusiasm. It's the woman he met last month, the one who was attacked by the fast villain. She heads for the stairs, surely coming to meet them. 

"Young Midoriya, no matter what, I'm not here!" hisses All Might. He crams himself into a shabby, tiny car to hide. The door is shut, but it has no window, so he uses the sun visor to further obscure his face from any possible snooping. 

"Huh?"

"Just don't let her see me, and get her to leave as quick as you can, okay?!"

He hesitates. "Uh... Okay, sure. I'll try. Be right back," he says and goes to meet the woman on the nicer area of the beach. Midoriya notices the graceful way she descends, like a ghost, and the thin, colorful breaths that occasionally puff from her lips as she calls out in greeting.

She's pretty. Izuku isn't sure how old she is, but she's plain and dignified and has a tender smile. "If it isn't my hero!"

"H-huh?! Me?!"

"Yes, you. Don't be so humble about it. I owe you my life and you didn't even stay long enough to give me your name."

"Oh!" He introduces himself in a flurry of bows and stammers. She smiles, pressing a giggle back with knuckles to her lips. Izuku fears he looks foolish, swallows hard, and stands up tall. "Izuku Midoriya. I'm glad you're doing all right."

"Again, thanks to you. But whatever are you doing out here, darling? It's in the middle of nowhere. Do you have a parent with you?"

"I'm, um, I'm here with my personal trainer. He's just stepped out for a minute. To get lunch. What time is it? Two? That's a normal time for us to eat lunch! Because of our training schedule!" His nervous mouth threatens to run off without permission or supervision. 

She nods, peering out at the ocean. "Training?"

"Yeah, moving heavy trash! It's good for the earth and good for my muscles, haha. Ha."

What a smile. It makes Izuku smile back, as if she's sharing an inside joke and giving him all the credit. "My hero is setting off to save the entire world! I'm impressed. And humbled." She looks at the scenery again and this time Izuku follows her gaze. It's a beautiful day, clear, a little cold. The waves are gentle and the wind smells fresh. "It's a shame this place has gotten to such a shameful state. When I was in high school, this was the best place in the city to spend the summer. I think I went here every weekend to meet my friends, look for shells, avoid my reading assignments. It really would be something to see it restored to former glory. Somewhere people can just go without a paywall."

"I'm going to try," he affirmed. "By the middle of January, when entrance exams start, I plan to have this place all cleaned up. It's essential to my training and to my path to becoming a Pro Hero."

"A Pro?" She seems surprised. "Where are you going to apply?"

"W-well, I'm going to try my hardest to get into U.A.."

She beams. It sends a great jolt through his heart. "You absolutely should! You are exactly the kind of young talent U.A. needs to be taking advantage of."

"I am?"

"Yes. You know, I attended U.A.. I was in the Hero program way, way back in the day. I'm not sure it will help you, but I'm going to write you a letter of recommendation, Izuku Midoriya."

"I… really?!" The world tilts on its axis. Hell freezes over. A near-stranger supports his dream. "Do you mean that?!"

She nods.

This is real.

"B-but my quirk… I mean, it isn't… I don't have a very good, um…"

She shakes her head, kneeling down to level with him. "Listen to me. A good quirk is fine, but the bravery to respond to a crisis, even when you're terrified and things might go badly? That's something Hero teachers struggle to imbue in their students. But you've got that instinct now, in your heart, and it's powerful. It's going to take you further than even the best quirk in the world ever could. Listen to me, I mean it. Try your hardest on the test, and even if you don't get into the Hero course, try to get into general education. You can test to transfer in with enough support and field performance."

The liquid freezes in his brain. He nods, vacant, processing, buffering. A Former U.A. student? She believes in him this much? This is… This is…

"And darling? When you're out here cleaning up trash, make sure to wear protective gloves and closed-toed shoes. There are sharp edges and rusty things everywhere. The next time I see you, I want you to be on your way to U.A., not on your way to the hospital." She takes his hands and turns them over, looking for cuts and scrapes, and finds only superficial damage. They were worse before, Izuku thinks. Just talking to her has caused his wounds to knit and the tiny stings to fade completely. "A jacket and pants would be good, too."

"Yes. Yeah. Yeah! Thank you! Thank you so much, miss!"

She gives a final contagious grin before bidding him farewell. Izuku is still standing on the beach, staring at the place she was when he could last spot her, when All Might stands beside him. And then he remembers he was supposed to be having a quick conversation. "Sorry! I was so caught up, I forgot you were hiding."

All Might doesn't respond. He didn't hear, maybe. He watches the same spot, where she was, where she's disappeared. "What a throwback," he sighs.

"Huh?" Izuku knows All Might has a long history. He's obsessed over every available public moment of his Hero's life and knows more of it is mystery than not. Even so, the expression on All Might's face is an unreadable mix of wistfulness and consideration. "Do you know her, All Might?"

"I do." His fist softens and his posture bends beneath heavy shoulders. "That's F/N L/N. We went to high school together."

3.

You are fifteen years old. Too old to be suffering quirk malfunctions like this. Children half your age have twice the control, you remind yourself in your mother's disapproving tone. Regardless of age, this is happening today, of all days. You are trapped on the ceiling. 

One of the many facets of your quirk allows you to float. Or rather, you always float and it takes a great deal of effort (and sometimes weight) to keep your feet on the ground. You never go too high. You've never floated into the sun, for instance. But on days like this, with your back bumping the panels and your fingers slipping around the doorframe, you aren't sure it's out of the question. 

"I overdid it," you whimper. You've managed to get into the hallway, finally, but the size of the windows and their possible flimsiness snap your hopes in half. Kinda like the way that kid with the beast quirk snapped your pencil in half today. On the first day of school. Ass. "I shouldn't have used that much breath. I knew I was going to get light headed. I knew it, I knew it and I got talked into doing it anyway. How am I supposed to get home like this? Freaking teacher…" Classes have been over for an hour, giving you plenty of time to hide upstairs and wait out the issue. But you have curfew to consider. Unless you want to sleep at the school.

Maybe. 

You're crawling across the ceiling while considering if you could break into the U.A. kitchen to feed yourself when you hear a horrible, guttural sob. It freezes you in your, uh, tracks? Ceiling tracks? It gets worse. Somebody else is here and they're crying. A lot.

You poke your head around the corner of a newly familiar hallway. U.A. seems like a labyrinth compared to your middle school. You can't imagine why anybody, even staff, would want to stick around after-hours on the first day of school. Except you, but… Well, you didn't *want* to. But you prefer this to being scooped up by the wind to become a cloud and then a bloody splat on the pavement. 

You follow the noise to an alcove and spot the one person in your class you are certain is having a harder adjustment period than you. Toshinori Yagi, skinny and blond and pale, is the class loser. You have quirk malfunctions? He has quirk non-functions. During practice, Yagi winds up and charges forward as if a great burst of strength will cascade with him. Instead, he falls on his face or rams into fellow students, tumbles through the obstacle course. Your single day of basic, get-to-know-you training let everybody know Yagi was as good as quirkless and very nearly useless. Everything was compounded by your instructor. For a man whose quirk has nothing to do with sound amplification, your teacher sure can scream.

Yagi is sitting on the ground, curled up, spirit as broken as your pencil. There are bruises gaining color on his arms and knuckles, one on his cheek you can barely see with his face buried in his knees. He sniff-snorts in a thick, wet line of snot. Ew.

It would be easy to turn back the way you came and ignore him, but the sight tugs at your heartstrings. You've been that kid more times than you'd like to admit. You've left your pathetic, middle school persona behind. There's no more crying for F/N L/N. And while you didn't come to U.A. to make friends, you didn't expect to spend three years of education without getting to know anybody. 

Plus, he seems tall. Like, tall enough to reach you.

"Psst!"

He continues to cry.

"Pssst! Hey! Pssst! Yagi!"

He does peek up when he hears his name. Then he sees you crawling on the ceiling above him. Then he screams.

"No, no! Cut that out!"

"What are you doing here?!"

"Like…?" You gesture to your situation  with growing aggravation. "Does this look voluntary to you? I'm in a skirt, I don't want to be up here!" You stretch to reach down toward him. You're worried that putting all of your balance on standing legs will crack a panel and send you floating up through the pipes and drywall. Then where would you be? Would they have to call the fire department to get you out? "Wipe your hand off and help me down?"

He does, jittering the whole time. Yagi tugs you to the ground, but your feet threaten to go right back up. You knot yourself around his elbow and try to force yourself to stand normally. "Are… Are you okay?" he asks.

"I'm just having a weird quirk day, okay?! My breath is different than air and sometimes my insides are lighter, so if I don't get the right balance in my lungs, I just… What are you doing here?"

He goes rigid. Thankfully, he is no less interested in anchoring you to the earth. "I… Nothing."

"Pro girly tip. If you want to cry, the bathroom is prime real estate."

"Um… Not for boys? I don't think?"

"It's got to be better than an open hallway, dude. You're lucky it's me here and not, like, Snaggletooth McPenmuncher. That kid would narc on you in an instant and wag his tail doing it."

"… You mean Jaku Kemono?"

"Yeah, that jerk."

Yagi cracks a smile, but he wipes it just as fast. "You're not going to tell anybody, are you?"

"Are you going to tell anybody about me floating to Kingdom Come?"

"No, of course not!"

"Then we're cool. Your normal, human emotions are safely secret with me." You feel a little weight coming back to your toes. Not enough to keep you on the ground, but you can stop clinging to this boy for dear life. Loosening your grip is a process, though, and you barely trust yourself not to go belly up like a dead fish, but midair, and you'd probably smack your nose. "Hey do you think they leave the kitchen doors unlocked around here, or would I have to break a window or jimmy the door open or something?"

"Why?!"

"Hungry. Gotta eat. Also, it would help me gain enough weight to safely walk around again."

He frowns in a bemused way. "I'm pretty sure you would get in trouble for doing that."

"Yeah, but that isn't what I asked."

"Hah. I don't think it's a good idea. How about…" He puts an arm over your shoulder and it allows you to press your heels to the tile floor. The sense of security is unparalleled. "There's a street food vendor not far from here. We could get some takoyaki and try that."

"You realize I would have to go outside for that?" you huff. "Do you like the idea of watching me float helplessly to the moon? I'm not a fan."

"I'll hold you down, I promise. I can even use my jacket sleeve to tie a safety line around you. See?"

"… I feel like a helium balloon," you lament. But your stomach relents louder. It squelches almost as loud as Yagi's sobs had been. "You promise you're not going to let me go?"

"I promise." He's a doofus, but he has the most honest demeanor and smile the world has ever known. You believe him. "You can always count on me to help you down, L/N."

4.

Your phone rings in the evening, startling you from a nap. You rub your eyes a few times, expecting the number and its label to change, to morph into something more mundane. U.A. OFFICES. Oh. Oh, it's probably about the letter you wrote for Midoriya. You shake off your apprehension and answer. "Hello, this is F/N L/N, how may I help you?"

"So quick! Thank you for picking up, dearie."

"… Recovery Girl?" You sit bolt upright. Where are your shoes? "What's wrong?" You have your keys, your purse, your coat ready to go. Where are those damn shoes?! 

"Calm down, dearie, calm down. This isn't an emergency call."

Thank goodness. You sit back down, sighing relief, catching your precious, precious breath. "What's up, Granny Chiyo? I never hear from you unless somebody is dying."

She laughs but it wasn't a joke. Oh well. "I should say the same for you. You've used your credentials to give away all your credit and hide behind every hospital I've ever worked with. If anybody is around exclusively for injury and death, it might be you."

"That's harsh. A woman old enough to be my mother calling me a boring workaholic. I'm wounded, Chiyo."

"Heehee. Anyway, dearie, we were surprised to see correspondence from you. Very happy to see you alive and still supportive of your old school."

"Hey, I saw a student worth supporting and I supported him. It's not more complicated than that."

"Are you looking for a job, L/N?"

"… Excuse me?"

"I'm old enough to be your mother, dearie, just like you said. You aren't a young woman anymore, either. At my age, I need an extra pair of hands around the nursing office just to keep some semblance of order. I should be taking more time off. You would know about that, wouldn't you? It's hard labor for an old woman." She sighs dramatically. You're being guilted and you don't have any choice but to take it. You aren't about to hang up on Recovery Girl. "You see, I need another healer with decent credentials to come be my assistant this year. Healing quirks are in such short order to begin with, and how few Heroes can I trust? I've met you personally. I've trained you. It would set this old, guttering heart so much at ease to know a good, reliable pair of hands would be working beside me at U.A.."

Your head spins. Of everything you were ready to deal with out of the blue, this was not one. "I… I'm not opposed, but I think your faith is misplaced. I could recommend a more senior Hero with a squeaky-clean record. Biopro, he's out of Osaka, he has a mending quirk that--"

"It's a difficult job, L/N. A personal one, especially this year. Principal Nedzu wants to keep things close to home. We need to."

How ominous. "I, uh… For the next school year?"

"At least. I'd like to keep you longer if things work out favorably for you."

"Do you want me to come in for some kind of job training or…?"

"It's a yes, dearie?"

"I mean… Sure, yeah. I'd like to sit down and look at salary and benefits and all that before I say anything officially. I expect to talk to some board members. At least the principal."

"Dearie, thank you. You have no idea how much this means to all of us to have you on board." The static hiss from the phone line kills a bit of enthusiasm for you. This seems unreal. So sudden. "There's one more thing. It's something you have to stay quiet about, but I know you have your strong opinions. It wouldn't be fair to hide this from you, especially because it might make you change your mind."

You fear the worst.

"All Might is going to be teaching this year."

You didn't fear worst enough.

Chapter Text

1.

You get stopped by a puffed up rent-a-cop on your way to U.A. for your meeting. You must have taken the stairs too fast and he noticed, decided to make it his business. "Ma'am, public quirk use is a violation of the law. I'm going to have to write you a ticket." You can tell by his uniform and "badge" that he's private security. "Understand this is a crime. You're lucky you're only being fined this time."

"For going down a flight of stairs?"

"Ma'am, I'm going to need you to watch your tone with me. Please cooperate and show me your identification."

You huff and snap open your purse. He's impatient, tapping his feet while you get your organizer of cards from where it's fallen, underneath the mess of travel and panic. Part of you can't help thinking back on your glory days, your worst days, and remembering you're better than this. You could bring him to his knees with a breath. You could snuff out everything this weasel is or could hope to be with a sneeze. 

But you're a good sport. You aren't that person anymore. You hand him your ID and papers.

He clicks his tongue, rifling through with indecent crinkling until he lands on the big red-and-white card that every spoiled officer dreads finding. "I… I didn't realize you were a Hero."

He stiffly hands your things back. 

"This wouldn't happen if you wore a more visible costume or badge." He ignores you when you point to the Non Combat Medical Hero pin on your chest. "You're free to go with a warning miss Anodyne. Out of gratitude to your profession, I won't report you to my superiors. Move along."

You could do this the legal way. You could demand his ID. Report him to his boss. If that doesn't do it, take things to the Council. Harassment of a Medical Hero is no small matter. He would lose his job and a few hundred-thousand yen, for sure.

You could also do this the illegal way. Faster, more satisfying, and it might eliminate those pesky job interview quivers that have been racking you all day.

Instead, you head on your way, head tucked shamefully low. You are not a coward. You just know better. You can't handle being the center of attention, certainly not for something as trivial as a man with a big ego and a low rung on the company ladder. Not worth it.

The gates of your former high school tower before you. You know better than to touch the bars. When you were young, you thought of those walls as your prison. It's only looking back you realize it was a diving cage, a solid structure that kept you from being eaten by sharks in the roiling, pitch void. The main building is a pillar beyond the gate, gleaming in the sunlight, more proud today than it was in the old days. Legacy brought this place great fortune. They hang tight to the coattails of their most famous alumni still. Perhaps more than ever if Recovery Girl meant what she said. 

A technological apparatus, not too unlike an ATM, blips and bleeps. The screen flashes and asks for a student ID, or an appointment sign-in, or a Hero ID. You bring up the appointment list and search through the times and entries for your name. It's not particularly busy now, but the log suggests there was some noteworthy event earlier in the day. Takes a while. You check the time. You probably won't be late.

Ah, there. L/N F/N, to see Recovery Girl and Principal Nedzu.

The scanner light shines green. The gate opens. You step through the barrier, hear it whine with electric current anew, and zap closed behind you. Security is tight this year, tighter than you remember it being last you passed through. Seems silly. With All Might inbound, U.A. should be safer than ever.

You pause in the shadow of the massive, glass door. Why, you wonder, does All Might need to be here this year? Why are things being kept in a smaller, secretive circle? Had something happened to warrant fear for the lives of the students? A sick squirm in your stomach conjures nightmares of bomb threats, of kidnappings, illness.

You enter.

It is the weekend. The building is empty but lights are on. Custodial equipment is visible here and there. There is an eerie quality to the echo of your feet on the tiles. You know this sound. But better than that, you know the feeling of floating through these air currents. It's well within your rights to use your quirk here. Why not? It will save your ankle some swelling tonight. You know these walls better than you know yourself. It's a homecoming of sorts. 

Do you deserve to be here again? After everything you've done?

Once you've expressed to your potential employers just how undeserving you are, it won't matter. You won't be able to come here again.

You come to the last flight of stairs before you need to veer off for your appointment. The stairway climbs temptingly skyward. Would the roof be unlocked, you wonder? No. No, you don't have time for that. 

Your old healing instructor waves and welcomes you in. Beside her, nearly as short and debatably as cute, stands the principal. You don't know Nedzu personally, but his reputation is stellar and you respect him for working in a field as discriminatory as Hero Education. An animal, but more a man than most of the humans you've spent your life dealing with. "Miss L/N, welcome," he says and gestures toward a stool. He and Recovery Girl struggle up into their own chairs. "Thank you for coming on such short notice. Normally, we wouldn't make an offer and then require an in-person meeting the next day. As unprofessional as it seems, I hope you'll forgive us for that."

"It's not an issue, I'm used to keeping a flexible schedule. I have to admit, though, it did startle me. If U.A. is known for anything, it isn't charging blindly forward."

"At times, blindness cannot be helped and charging seems the only viable option."

You get a very, very bad feeling from the way Nedzu talks. You're almost relieved to have Recovery Girl chime in.

"Dearie, you've got an impressive record of public service. Working with different hospitals, in-home care for Heroes whose families still praise your work. Your spearheading of the Shattered Warriors Act under the Jade Agency should be commended."

"Thank you." You hope the bitterness doesn't creep into your voice. "A shame it never amounted to anything."

"It certainly looks good on a job application," Nedzu chuckles. He uses his fuzzy, squishy paws to pick up a cup of tea on the folding table behind him. They must have been here a while, waiting to talk to you, discussing things. It makes you nervous. This is an ambush. "It's a relief, actually to know your politics so clearly. I can't imagine anyone more dedicated to the safety of Heroes and Heroes-to-be than L/N F/N-- Anodyne, the Deep Breath Hero."

"Thank you, but I haven't gone by Anodyne in a long time. Nurse L/N is fine. F/N is better, actually."

"I see. I hope you're willing to budge on that a bit, however. We all refer to each other by our Hero names very casually around here and it might make you settle in faster."

"About that… It was a tentative yes, not a yes yes. Recovery Girl didn't tell me until afterward that there would be some sort of involvement from All Might? I'm really not sure I'm the person for that. It's um… It's a matter of synergy, really. It's been my policy to never work directly with the Number One, and I would just really, really like to keep my track record on that squeaky clean."

They look at each other, their silence speaking a language you can't begin to follow. Did they prepare for this?

"Dearie. I understand you have some rough feelings about All Might. But you do support him, don't you?"

"Wh- I'm a citizen of this country, and he's the Symbol of Peace. Do you see me kicking his ankles, trying to get him to drop the world and get us all killed?" They don't respond to your fast, upset answer. "Yes, I support him. As much as somebody can support a Hero who is the very embodiment of today's concept of Heroism. Why? Are you accusing me of being Anti-Might?"

"No, no." Nedzu sips his tea, shakes his head, sips his tea again. You realize you've worked up quite a mist. You inhale as much as you can in one breath, which is all but a wisp, to spare them the haze. Your breath may heal, but it is a hassle. "Rather, we are concerned with whether or not you support the man behind the costume. Do you have any ill will against Toshinori Yagi?"

All Might's identity is sacrosanct. That they dare to use his real name means this is serious. "Chiyo, what's going on here?"

"… None of us are getting younger, dearie. All Might least of all."

Your weight on the stool is boulder-heavy. Just hearing this, the ghost of a suggestion, starts your heart on a horrible, rumbling marathon.

Recovery Girl offers you tea but you don't have enough sense to indicate your preference. You freeze in place, staring until she withdraws and sighs. "I didn't think we would have to dance around things like this. I'm sorry, dearie. Let me be straightforward. All Might is going to be teaching here, but we can hardly keep the nature of his health and age secret without extra help. You have a perfect and respectable record of confidentiality with your patients. This is more dire than that. I need to know, beyond all shadows of doubt, you will keep word of this from the public."

You nod.

"Good."

"F/N, All Might is coming up on the end of his career. Physically, he doesn't have a choice. And while Recovery Girl will be overseeing most aspects of his health, it is not out of the question that you might be called on to assist with routine healing. That on top of whatever the students need. This is still a school, after all, and schools do see a bit of scuffing and scraping." Nedzu slides a thick, black folder across the table and into your lap. "Recovery Girl said you'd want financial information prepared. We encourage our staff to talk about their earnings, so please know this is a fair offer and you're welcome to seek confirmation on the matter. Between children, teaching, and Villains, the last thing we need our staff worried about is money."

It's generous. Too generous. If you weren't already aware of the real task hiding beneath the surface, you would call the offer a "red flag". "… Have you considered anyone else for the position?"

"It's you or nobody, F/N. And I don't like our chances if it's nobody."

You swear. You curse. You put your head in your hands. "You know what you're asking of me. You're asking me to compromise all my morals, to bury and deny every speech I've made to the Hero Council."

"We're asking nothing of the sort. It may be beneficial to have a wider array of beliefs to pull from and compare against. U.A. is stronger for its diversity."

It's dawning on you.

You do not have a choice.

It seems like something you can walk away from, but they both know you never will. How could you live with yourself if you were asked to provide care for the man who saved the world, who saves it every day, who brings the sunrise on his shoulder and the winds with his laughter… How could you live with yourself if you refused?

"Ok," you tell them. "I'll do it. I'll take the job."

Nezu and Chiyo are alight with cheer. They congratulate you and themselves.

All you can think about is how badly you want to climb up to the roof and scream your throat raw.

2.

All Might arrives late for his medical appointment, to the surprise of nobody. He holds back a cough and clutches his side, pokes his head into Recovery Girl's office. He expects to get an earful. He deserves it, he knows he does. She warned him he couldn't afford to miss medications, meals, or appointments. Today he missed all of them and it's payback time. Sparks of pain rattle through his insides with every breath.

"Come in, dearie," she says in a chipper tone.

All Might fears for his life. "You're not, uh…" He hacks into his fist. "You're not going to kill me this time, are you Granny?"

"Not this time," she confirms. The little old Hero pats his cot. It's warm and waiting. 

Drawing breath is no easy task, but Toshinori senses something different in the atmosphere when he manages. "Did you put in a new air freshener?"

She shakes her head, ignores his words, and starts preparing her medical instruments. "Put this sensor over your heart, and this one--"

"Yeah, I remember. Thanks." He sticks them on, swears he can see the gunk still on his skin from last time. His scar, searing beneath the surface, stands out on his pale skin like a blooming poinsettia in snow. He struggles to get comfortable on the cot. His feet stick off the end. No helping it. "I don't want to rush you, but--"

"If you do not want to rush me, do not rush me," she warns.

Right. He knew better than to request the painkillers. Maybe if he had the sense to arrive on time and in decent condition, she might be more merciful. Toshinori supposed he wouldn't feel sorry for himself if he was her, either. 

He waits in silence for her to begin. He can't move. Not just because it would disturb her precious sensors, but also because he's exhausted. It sickens him to realize laying in a hospital bed has become a reprieve.

Recovery Girl flicks the bubbles out of a syringe, shakes her head, squirts a little onto her finger. "I see you've been busy today," she says at last. Her tone indicates she's ready to make peace. Her needle jabbing into his arm could have been gentler, though. "So have I. I interviewed a candidate to be my assistant here starting next school year."

Toshinori grimaces. "I'm not looking forward to letting yet another person in on my condition. It's harrowing every time."

"This time should be the easiest you've ever had. She's dealt almost exclusively with end-of-life and terminal Heroes in recent years. I daresay she will know more about your condition than you, mentally and physically, by the end of her first week."

It makes him cringe, the thought of some morbid, death-chasing nurse on his heels. He wasn't supposed to get old. Not like this. He wasn't supposed to need help going downhill. How hard is it to fall down, really? "At least she has your approval."

"Not only that, I requested her personally. She was one of my first interns, you know."

He knows of a handful of her interns. Most are famous doctors, off owning and running their own hospitals. Only a few possible ladies spring to mind.

And only one would cause her to be smug on his arrival when she ought to be mad.

Maybe it was the medication finally hitting, but… "Who is she?"

"L/N."

"… Who ?"

"L/N F/N. I hired Anodyne to help me."

There's panic. He wants to run. Run where? And then it's all too heavy, too tired, too sleepy. He settles again, swallowing a wad of blood and phlegm. 

"What's wrong, All Might? The two of you were close in high school, weren't you?"

"Close? She was my best friend. F/N and I spent almost every day together for three years. Close doesn't begin to sum it up." He shuts his eyes. "She knows me better than all but maybe three other people in the world." He looks at his hand, skinny and calloused and bruised from the work and the needles. There was a time in his life he would have loved to reconnect with her. Would have begged for the chance. But that was in the summertime of life. It is winter, now. Colors faded from vibrant to crusty brown. If there is anybody in the world he doesn't want around to witness the last leaf falling from the tree of his life, it's F/N.

Recovery Girl says something but it dissolves in the muddle of his mind. Breaths don't come easier, but he's not awake enough to feel the agony. It's good enough. "I don't want her to see me like this, Recovery Girl. I want her kept from this for as long as possible."

"That's not realistic."

"Please," he murmurs as sleep claims him for one brief moment. "F/N can't know about this. She can't know I…"

3.

"You again? What, do you have regularly scheduled crying appointments booked in this school or something?"

Toshinori finds the girl with the healing breath quirk trapped on the ceiling of their classroom. He doesn't have the heart to tell her he could see her floundering around and spinning out from a window outside. Most of his sparring practice with Gran Torino, he'd been distracted thinking about her. "No," he says and wipes his nose. He barely cried today. Of course, Torino barely hit him. "Do you have, um… appointments for floating? And not being able to get down on your own?"

"Oh har dee har har. Your Hero name should be Funny Guy because you're hilarious." She makes a grab for a desk, but like a balloon, bumps off of it and ascends helplessly. She gives it a few more chances. She's close. But she never quite makes it. "Are you going to help or just creep in the doorway?"

He startles, hurries into the room, reaches up for her hand. "actually, I came to find you on purpose. I was, um, worried you might be in this situation  again."

"I don't… ugh… I don't need your pity," she says as she struggles to climb down his arm. Her hands are sweaty, he realizes as she slips free of his grasp. She shrieks, then flops against the wall on her way up. "Ok. I may be willing to accept pity. Even yours. Just, this time, hold tighter?"

"Right, sorry." He has to tug her down by the leg and almost gets kicked. 

"Don't you dare look up my skirt!"

"I won't! I wouldn't, I swear! H-here." He sets her on the ground, then shoves his backpack into her arms. Luckily, it's enough to keep her from floating away. They exchange relieved sighs. Toshi opens his backpack while she's still holding it. "My mentor has a quirk kind of like yours. I mentioned you to her."

"You TOLD somebody about this?!" She kicks his ankles. "You promised!"

It hurts, but she's pretty quick and he doesn't have it in him to dodge. "I didn't use your name or anything! She doesn't even know anybody in our class. But she trained with her quirk to be able to go higher at will. She used these to do it. I figure, if they made it a challenge for her to get in the air, they could help keep you out of it." He reveals the ankle weights. They were, however, the heaviest thing in his pack. He shoves one back into her grasp just before she achieves liftoff. "Let me help you get them on."

They snap and velcro. The weights seem secure. Toshinori backs away to give the girl room to test them. She stares at her feet, shuffles, and then jumps. She jumps again. Barely three inches of lift. "Whoa…"

"Better?"

"Yeah! Tell your mentor she's saved my life and I love her!" Hers is a smile that exudes both mischief and earnest enthusiasm. "These are great. I'm gonna… I'm gonna…" she gasps with a sudden, powerful realization. "I'm gonna go up to the roof!" She dashed toward the stairs.

Toshi races after her. "Wait! What if they come undone?! Hey! Hey, wait!" He wheezes. Some of those punches from earlier linger in his gut and chest. "I'm really, really sure we aren't allowed up here! We should go back down before… before…" He pushes the roof access door aside.

They stand beneath a sky that is near enough to touch. He could carve the clouds with his fingertips. The sun ambles homeward, streaming with textures and horizon fog to match the unfortunate healing girl's breath in color. She holds the ledge and leans out to see the world crawling below. "I've never been up this high before," she murmurs. "Well, not voluntarily. As a little kid? I probably made it halfway to mars or something. It was real bad."

The wind slithers against them, through their loose clothes. From here, the smoke and sirens of unending domestic war seem distant. A stronghold, a tower into the heavens. Her breath smells heavily of peppermint, but it mixes with a rush of natural freshness that leaves Toshinori with an impression of the ocean. Waves. Freedom. A serenity that is only still on the surface. 

"So," she begins after a while. She doesn't look at him. "No offense, but you're the last kind of person I expected to meet at U.A.. You don't really fit in here, you know?"

His heart sinks. "Because of my quirk…"

"I mean, I guess. That's not what I meant, though. Everybody else went home. Everybody else found their social groups. Everybody else is avoiding the teacher's wrath. And you… You're a trouble magnet, you know?"

"… Thanks."

"Sorry." She nudges his shoulder with her hand. It makes him shiver. "I just want to know why you're attending this school to begin with. It's been a shitty first week for you. Personally? I would have just come up here, let go, and bid farewell to earth and oxygen."

He presses his lips into a tight, flat line. "I… I want to be a Hero."

"Um… No offense buddy, but that's why all of us are here. Every kid wants to be a Hero. You gotta have more than that."

"I do. I… I just have a hard time saying it. Or thinking it, maybe. Just…" He takes a deep breath, eyes closed, grateful she's being patient with him. "I want to become strong, and create a world where everyone can live in peace. People don't deserve to spend every day in fear, waking up to wonder what disaster is coming, and who might fail to reach them. I… I don't… I'm going to be strong enough to… You know."

"… A riveting speech. Really good stuff," she says. "But let me show you how it's done."

"Huh? Hey, be careful!"

She climbs up on the ledge, takes a deep breath, and shouts. It startles Toshinori, sends him reeling with the force of her passion. "I'm here world, and I'm here to save you whether you want to be saved or not! It doesn't matter if you don't believe in me, if you've given up, or if you hate me! I'll be a Hero that heals everyone, because it's right, because every person deserves dignity and help! I'll fight for the future! And I'll force this world to make room for everybody, everybody to breathe!"

Toshinori watches her, shivers, and understands at last what Nana tried to teach him during their last lesson. Becoming the greatest Hero is not about faking it until you're making it. It's about having a will so iron-strong you can scream a seemingly childish wish to the sky and make it so. Where naivety and idealism meet passion and action, a Hero is born.

He climbs on the ledge next to her. "I'll be a Hero!" he screams. Tears roll down his cheeks. "I'll save everybody!"

"Everybody!" she echoes.

He screams harder and breaks his voice. "Everybody!"

4.

Cinder leans on you, pushing her empty, third glass to your side of the bar. Your coke is still half-full. It is your first and only drink of the night. "Here's to employment!" she says and sips at number four, something that smells like a sour apple candy. "Come on, F/N hunnie, what up? It's a big day! You're gonna be raking in new money, girl! Smile about it, huh?"

You do. It fades just as fast.

Cinder sighs. "Listen, if it's about having to work, and work culture? I get it. Jobs suck. I'm done with that ball and chain. I could totally, totally introduce you to the vast and economically vibble… viazle… ecnon viable world of gold digging. You've still got the goods, girl! You could snag some desperate fool looking for that cougar thing, F/N hunnie, I promise. You want that? You want me to make some calls?"

"Please don't."

"Ok, but the offer always stands. You just let me know." She makes it to the half-way point in her glass. The bartender looks back at her nervously from the group he's trying to serve, no doubt mentally calculating how quickly he'll have to return to his heavyweight customer. 

All of your best relationships are forged on empathy. In your friends, you see some part of yourself that you have no choice but to connect with and understand. Cinder is the granddaughter of an old school Villain, a man who used his yakuza ties to rule the world. Officially, Slag is a toothless, powerless grandfather and organized crime has been dead for a while. Cinder's father, Iron Kettle, is a professional wrestler who lives off the fumes of his father's legacy. His ring attire, his minions, all his stage appearances are stylized with old-school gangster coolness in mind. As Cinder puts it, he doesn't just believe his persona is real. It is real. But nobody wants to accuse a popular, likeable celebrity of ties to organized crime. Not these days.

You wish you could drink away your misfortunes, but Cinder is hitting it back and somebody has to be the designated driver. Besides, one drink too many and your feet have a hard time finding the floor. This isn't the kind of day for floating. "Did you get a chance to ask your father about the man who attacked me outside my apartment?"

"Wh… Oh, oh F/N hunnie, yeah I did. Baby, I'm sorry. He didn't know anything, none of his dumb friends or little brothers know anything, either. Don't worry though, okay? I bitched him out, I said, I said… I said, Daddy, you need to do the right thing or your baby girl will lose all respect for you! So he's sending some of his spooky looking guys to patrol around your place, two times a night, keep things all quiet."

It's relief, yet sour. Your police report went nowhere. No Hero agencies picked up the case. After all these years, the only person striving to really, truly help you is a Villain.

Nothing changes, you realize. You just loop around to the other side and forget the look of your starting place until you return. Like the seasons. Spring? What spring? You've never seen a flower in your life. It's all winter all the time.

"F/N? You ok?"

"Yeah."

"We'll keep you safe. Always. Right?" She nudges you. "You're employed and practically rich. Smile."

You try.

Chapter Text

1.

A month before the beginning of the school year, you attend an orientation meeting for U.A. staff. It's Friday evening. You bundle up to stave off winter's sharp teeth, wear comfortable shoes, and regret every choice you've ever made by the time you reach the ID scanner. 

What if he sees you like this? 

In clothes? Dressed like a normal person and not a spandex-clad purveyor of violence and media hype? Scandalous.

In all honesty, you don't want to go to this. You don't want to be at this meeting. You don't want to risk confronting All Might. You don't want this job.

You don't want to be surrounded by Heroes.

"You must be our new nurse." A sultry voice sets the hair on the back of your neck on end. As you're opening the door, the dominatrix Hero Midnight slinks around you. Rather than her infamous costume, she wears office attire. Her expression, however, is suggestive enough to cloak her entire being in a veneer of sexuality. She slips her fingers between yours on the handle, wrests control from your grasp, ushers you inside on her arm. You are so surprised by her audacity, you don't even think to refuse. Not thinking is a dangerous habit. "Don't worry. I can be surprisingly gentle. I won't press any of our precious, young charges too hard… for your sake, of course."

"I'm- I'm sorry, what?"

"No, I'm sorry. I know to take things slower with a new, pretty face. I should introduce myself properly. Nemuri Kayama." She nudges her designer glasses down her nose, looks you over. "I'm a Heroics teacher, but I also cover Art History and fill any other needs I come across. What I meant to say earlier is, I intend to push my students to their limits this and every year. It will be nice having another helping hand around." She smirks and releases your hand, which you foolishly realize she's had since the door handle. "Especially one with such pretty fingers."

You try to think of words and come up blank. In the past, you've been stuck between a Hero and a hard place and truly, blindly panicked. This feels a bit like that. 

"Midnight, I hate to ruin your fun, but we're trying to keep the new staff this time. Do you really want to begin another year with one of those long, uncomfortable HR meetings?" Vlad King is recognizable outside of his professional attire by his teeth, his groomed hair, his posture and imposing build. Like you, he is dressed for comfort and warmth. He glances at you, gives you a knowing smile. "Don't mind her. She just gets… excited."

Midnight giggles, then winds her way past both of you to the group of waiting staff members. It's a smaller group than you expected, but suspect there are late arrivals to come. Vlad King joins them, leaving you to hover on the outskirts and feign social bravery.

Seeing these people all in one place, all functional, is surreal. You've met most of them before in a one-sided sense. In hospitals, sedated and unconscious, as support during surgeries. In waiting rooms, desperate for news on operations, able to see you only by the function you perform when all their mind is focused on a dying friend. Ectoplasm catches your gaze again and again. All too clearly you can bring yourself back to being briefed on the status of his leg, his chances of recovery, the real fear of a good man bleeding out in the ambulance. His prosthetics seem to be in good condition. 

You've seen their insides more than you've heard their voices, that's for sure.

A spastic wave from Present Mic and the laughter that proceeds it draws you in. He gestures to you, coughs into his fist, and croaks, "Welcome!"

You float over to investigate. A Hero with a voice quirk and no voice was a deceptively bad sign. Was he sick? Was it overwork? Had he injured his vocal cords? "Are you all right?"

"Yeah, yeah, yeah! I'm doing great! Excited to be here, jazzed to meet you. You're Anodyne, right?" He laughs, which breaks into a dry fit. "I know everybody else, so you must be."

"You sound like a dying toad," says Cementoss. "Maybe you should go home?"

"Nahhh." He shrugs. "It's going to be a super short meeting. After all, we only have two new staff members."

You. And All Might.

Grand.

"Hon, please take this," you say as you hand Present Mic some pity.

"Huh? What's this, purse candy?"

"It's a cough drop."

His friends laugh at his expense again, with Midnight chiming in, "She's not even on the clock yet, Hizashi."

The doors fly open amidst the gruff call, "Let's get this over with." Everyone present turns to witness the new arrival, who locks the door behind him, and therefore must be the last arrival. You don't know this man. He's dressed in dark colors, hunches as he walks, but there's a nimbleness. He's faster than he appears.

You smother your internal alarm bells. Everyone who looks like a nighttime prowler is not here to string you up with wire. 

He stands before the group, which you've somehow ended up in the center of, and addresses you all at once. Sort of. He is talking directly to you and pretending not to. "I'm Eraserhead. Vlad and I are co-Heads of the Heroics Department. I'm the one who's been saddled with hosting this meet-and-greet, and because we're doing this my way, we're just going to call it quits here. This is pointless."

"Wow," wheezes Hizashi. "Really professional, Sho."

"… What the fuck happened to you?"

"Police raid. Don't worry about it. It's daytime stuff, you wouldn't know about it." Present Mic grins, as does Midnight. Eraserhead does not share their enthusiasm.

He directs his attention to you. "I already heard everything I need to know from Nedzu. You're a former student, right? You already know where everything is. If you do get lost for some reason, there are maps of labeled classrooms and utility closets all over. You'd have to be an idiot not to notice them."

"And yet, every year," mutters Snipe. "There will be a freshman."

"Sometimes a few freshmen," adds Power Loader.

Eraserhead holds his hand up to silence the banter and get back to the point. "The only thing I need to do is give you this handbook. It contains basic rules and procedures. Know them. If we're ever in crisis, it would be pretty fucking embarrassing for a nurse not to know what to do."

"Sho, chill."

"It also contains a directory with phone numbers and emails. It's online too, so if you somehow lose this and can't get your hands on one of the billion copies I made, go to the school's private site and figure things out yourself. As for scheduling, classes don't begin for students for another month-and-a-half, but certain staff members have to appear for routine drills and things that don't involve the nursing staff. Basically, for the next month you're getting paid to wait around and read the rule book." He folds his hands back into the warmth of his pants pockets, takes a stiff breath, and shakes his head. "That's it. Everybody go back to your lives."

"Hey, wait! We've only got half our new people here. What about All Might?"

"Unfortunately, All Might will not be attending. He called to let me know about twenty minutes ago. Which is fine, because we're already done here."

"Are you fucking kidding me?"

The words escape you before you realize what you've done. Everyone, all of your new coworkers and peers, stare at you in various stages of awe and confusion. It's too late to hold your peace so you let your little gripe loose into the world. "The one person who needs to be oriented more than anybody else in the world, and he skips the mandatory orientation."

For a moment, nobody says anything. Maybe they don't know what to say. But you notice Eraserhead forcing back a smile and he finally, mercifully, takes the pressure from your lungs. "I agree. Let's hope this doesn't set the tone for all of our involvements with the Symbol of Peace." And as quickly as he spares you the group ire, he leaves through the doors that lock automatically behind him, and bows out.

The others turn back to each other, but you get the sense somebody will ask you about your problem with All Might. And you can't handle that. Not right now. Maybe never. "Well everyone, it's been lovely seeing you again. See you next month?" You dismiss yourself in an awful hurry.

"… Did she say ' again' ? Have any of you ever met her before?"

"I don't think so?"

You feel like the biggest idiot the world ever manufactured.

2.

"Come on, Young Midoriya! You've almost got it!"

The broken car lurches, the rope taut, the wheels grinding against sand rather than rolling. It's moving. Inch by inch, just barely, he's certain. 

The rope snaps. Midoriya yelps. He falls in a heap of seaweed, and then yells out again, this time in disgust. 

All Might sighs. Perhaps if he hadn't been standing on the hood of the car shouting encouragements, their line would have survived. "Well, kid, that was the last one. We either have to buy you more rope, or go without it." He looks at the ocean, pondering both the time of day and season. It's growing late. "At this rate, it might be more sensible not to bother. I can't say with any certainty it's made it easier for you to move these things. We might just be making more trash for the trash piles."

After he gets the ocean plants off his skin, Midoriya remains sitting on the ground. His bottom lip bends tightly downward. 

"What's the matter, kid? You didn't hurt yourself, did you?"

"No, it's just…" He looks at the beach, all that stretches out before him.

He doesn't need to say it. All Might understands.

It's too much.

The task is mostly done, but it is not minuscule. The months he spent cleaning amount to many neat, recycle-ready sections and heaps. Low-rung agencies love to send their least combat capable Heroes on tasks like directing the pickup of debris, so getting it off the beach later would be far easier and well out of his young hands. It's everything that comes before that daunts him now. The wall he needs to scale is massive, the height is perilous, the strength required is unfathomable. 

But there is no other way to do the impossible than to commit, drive through opposition, press on.

If Midoriya cannot even move this small, man-made mountain, how will he be able to move all the others All Might knows will spring up before him?

Before he can think of something worthwhile and encouraging to say, a call like the sweetest terror breaks through Toshinori's mind. F/N L/N is at the beach entrance, waving, shouting Midoriya's name as she approaches with that smile. That smile he never thought he'd see again.

He has to hide.

Back into the car, diving through a back window. He curls on the ground in front of the seat. "Young Midoriya, don't let her see me." He fiddles with the lean of the seats, accidentally dropping one on his head in his attempt at disguise. "Politely ask her to leave, ok?"

"I'll just talk to her really fast. I promise I'll be right back."

"No, just ask her to leave! Midoriya? Young Midoriya, please!"

He knows better than to strain himself using his powerful form for mundane reasons. He needs to save his strength for villains and dangers. But he can't help himself. He contorts into a horrible, uncomfortable position to take advantage of his keen hearing and eavesdrop on Midoriya's conversation with F/N.

"I thought I might find you out here," she says. "Hard at work, I see. And still not a trainer in sight."

Shit!

"He's around here somewhere." Bless Midoriya's heart, he's ready to lie about it this time. "Hey, it's kind of late. Are you okay being out here? Do you want me to walk you home?" As much as Midoriya needed the workout and some advice, Toshinori was all too willing to let him get rid of F/N by playing the gentleman role. She would be safe that way, to boot. Though he couldn't imagine why his little apprentice was so concerned about a woman Toshinori distinctly remembered as shaming a serial villain into turning himself into the police. 

"I'm fine, darling, and not so frail that I need to be guarded every day. More to the point, I came out here to bring you these. Ta-da!" 

"Whoa! Ha, thanks." Toshinori strains himself to peek through a rusty hole where once was a window. He sees Midoriya pulling on a pair of thick work gloves.

"Those are the same brand I wore when I was in Hero training. They're fire resistant, warm, and also come with excellent wrist support."

He flexes his fingers in them. "Really, thank you so much! I appreciate it. Um…" Midoriya glances back at the car where his mentor is hiding, causing Toshinori a fright cough that blasts blood everywhere. On his shirt. His face. In his hair. Shit. "Um! So! I…" Midoriya turns away, but he settles back into a coiled, uneasy silence. "Never mind."

"What's up? You worried about entrance exams?"

"… Yeah."

She doesn't say anything for a while, but Toshinori knows that pause. He knows the way she switches her tone. She says, "Worried about your recycling project?" in a way that really means, "Worried you're going to fail at everything and die horribly?"

Midoriya sighs. "Yeah."

A nod. Another deep breath. And then she asks, "Are you going to try your hardest?"

"Yes."

"Give it everything you've got?"

"Yes, of course!"

"And if the worst should happen, and you don't make it in time, or you don't make the cut, is the world going to end?"

He doesn't respond to that one. Not right away. After consideration and with sorrow, he finally answers her. "No."

"And if the world doesn't end, do you get to stand up and try again?"

"… Yes?"

"Yes," she confirms. "The planet keeps spinning. There is no single path to becoming a Hero, just like there's no one way to traverse the globe. You can get there by any route that works for you, and you'll still be at your destination."

Midoriya rolls her suggestion around in his head for all of a moment before his tone shifts to determination and brightness. "Thank you. I'll try to keep that in mind if things go bad. Right now, I think I'd still like to just throw everything I have at this challenge. I can get through it this time. I can. I'm so close already."

Her voice is ripe with pride. "Spoken like a true fan of All Might."

"Me?! What would give you that idea?!"

"The shoes, the hoodie, your backpack, your cell phone cover."

"Oh."

"Your shirt, your belt, your phone charm."

"Oh-- okay."

"Your smile."

Somehow, Toshinori feels like she's found him hiding and punched him in the gut. But no. His secret is secure. She's none the wiser. And maybe, if F/N approves, his instinct to choose Midoriya as his successor wasn't that far off the mark. 

"I can see your mind and heart are set, which means you're well on your way. You've got this, Izuku Midoriya."

"Tha--"

"You don't need to keep thanking me."

"Sorry."

She chuckles and again looks at the ocean from the beach. For the first time in ages, the dock is accessible and safe. The fish are coming back. Plants are growing beyond the sandy swell. "This old place can still dazzle with some hard work, huh? You've put a lot of love into this project. I'm impressed. So, let me take my turn on the pleasantry-go-round. Thank you for doing this, young man."

3.

"We need to stop meeting like this."

"What do you mean? You weren't stuck this time."

"No," you say and hand him a packet of tissues. You've got bandaids ready for him, too, but there are no open wounds today. It's just bruises. It's a hell of a black eye. "I mean about you crying."

"I didn't this time!"

"You totally did, but okay…" You turn his hand over to examine all his fingers. He winces when you bend his pinky. "It's not broken, but we should probably hang out for a while anyway." You shake your head. That's not what you meant. "Because of my breath. Because you'll heal from breathing around me. Because… cut that out!"

He has the biggest, dumbest grin. If he was a dog, he'd be one of those big, yellow, excitable ones that launch themselves off the end of a dock at the first sight of water.

"So… What do you want to do? Sneak up to the roof again?"

"Probably not. I don't want to get you in trouble." He puts his uniform jacket back on. It's funny. You thought he was a gangly, skinny mess when you first met him, but Toshinori has muscle developing. It seems like his strength and physicality haven't caught up with one another yet. But hey, that's puberty. "Why are we always hanging out in the school?"

"Because where else would we be?"

"No, I mean… I know why I'm here. I'm doing extra study to catch up with the rest of the class."

"Right."

"And you're here mostly out of inconvenience."

"Also right."

"But, you haven't been stuck floating since you started wearing weights. Which means you don't really have a reason to be here."

"Uhh…"

"You're not just… waiting around… to spend time with me… are you, L/N?"

"Uhhhh…!" You start to sweat.

The truth is complicated. You've fallen into a comfortable routine where you stay at school too long, sometimes well after even Toshinori goes home. You listen to music on the roof. You play tennis with the wall of the supply shed. You tried swimming, but the lights turn off automatically and things got… spooky . You're more at home lurking around the U.A. campus than you ever could be at home. Eventually, though, you do go back to your house most nights. And you spend the whole time wishing you were at school. Even though your only friend there or in the world is some loser who's probably going to get bullied into dropping out by his own teacher. 

Toshinori has become a highlight of your day. You try to ignore him passing notes to you and gesturing all through the school day, which makes things pleasantly stupid. He's a clown. He wants to make you smile. Or, he's clueless and doesn't mind the world laughing about it. You're not sure how bright he really is yet.

Rather than admit he's your friend, let alone your best friend, you shrug. "Who can say?"

You do have to admit this, though. He's got a handsome smile. If he ever grows into his face or brushes his hair, he might be a real heartthrob. "Do you want to go to the beach?"

"Why the beach?"

"Because the beach is great! It's warm, there's plenty of room, the wind is nice."

"Yeah but like… sharks, bro."

His laughter takes him by surprise. He tries to stop himself but ends up snorting. "Sharks?"

"Pretty sure there are whole movies about the beach being like, the one place you have to worry about those. So maybe not?"

"No, L/N, trust me, the beach is great. You don't even have to go in the water. And either way, I promise I will fight off any sharks that might threaten you." His heroic pose and flex are undercut by that darkening black eye. He pats you on the back to encourage you toward the door. He's heart-set on this. It looks like you're going. So much for rooftop karaoke. "Also, a boat would be another place to worry about sharks, would it not?"

"It's not gonna be on an exam, Toshi. You don't have to ' um, actually ' me about sea creatures."

4.

Girly drinks in a can, the nectar of gods. You would be more wary of the alcohol content, but this is a drinking-to-numb kind of night. The sooner you forget you've signed your soul away, the better. You rest with your back against the ceiling, your phone in your hands and in a case that loops around your wrist. You've dropped too many of these suckers to use anything less. In your other hand, a newly empty can of fuzzy navel. You aim, intending to drop it in a perfect tower, right on top of the others.

Your phone rings, startling you and ruining everything. The entire tower collapses, clink clank, clink clank , and stray droplets of alcohol spill on the carpet.

"Fuck it," you groan. "That's a job for Sober Me." You check your phone, which keeps ringing. It's a few seconds after ten. A weird time for calls.

Might Agency.

You snort to yourself and pick up the receiver. "Is it still cold and flu season?" Or maybe they've got a new public health message this month.

"Uh… I think it is, yeah…" The voice on the other end of the line is not automated. It is baritone, and strained, and deeply confused. "Hi, F/N."

Your blood runs cold, runs backward, runs out your feet and drips down to Hell. It's him. It's All Might. It's Toshinori.

A hundred years of angry, sad, ashamed, fearful words bombard you from within. All the things you thought you would say when the day finally came, everything you prepared, and re-prepared, un-prepared--it jams up at the back of your throat. None of it comes out. An eon apart, and all you can say is, "Hi."

"This is, um… This is All Might, calling from--"

"I know," you say, quiet but sharp. It stops him. "How did you get my number?"

"The U.A. Staff Directory."

Dead air. 

You can't imagine what he looks like talking to you. You hear him but you can barely imagine his voice. The person talking to you doesn't sound like Toshinori and he certainly doesn't sound like All Might. He sounds like a man doing an impression of himself.

Is he waiting for you to say something? "Are you still there?" you ask, hoping for static.

"I am. I… I am here, Miss L/N, to thank you for accepting a position at U.A.! It does our school honor to have an esteemed--"

"Why are you calling me?"

"A-an esteemed Hero like yourself at hand to safeguard the Heroes of tomorrow! No doubt, any and every young Hero would be grateful for your support. That U.A. managed to snag your application first is--"

"Why are you really calling me?"

"…"

He called you not to talk to you. Just to sit there, silent, waiting, and force you to do the same. Why?

Maybe it's the drinks talking, but you shouldn't fool yourself. You know exactly why he's calling. "Does the Might Agency's leader have a professional objection to working with me?"

"No! No, that isn't it."

"Is the agency proposing I withdraw from my contract?"

"No, F/N, this is… The Might Agency states no official involvement or opinion, this is just a conversation between the two of us as people."

"Then I'm going to need you to put away the cartoon voice and talk to me like an adult."

It's quiet. He clears his throat. There's coughing. A lot of coughing. 

Damn. Did you have to be so mean to him? Recovery Girl basically suggested he was dying, right? Stop being a bitch to an old, dying man. What's wrong with you?

"Toshi. Do you have a problem with me working at U.A.?"

He breathes. He waits, but you aren't sure what for. "No," he says at last.

"Okay," you reply. "Then I'll see you bright and early on Monday morning."

He hangs up first. 

Chapter Text

1.

When you go to war, you wear armor. A soldier has fatigues, a Hero their costume. Women, in turn, have makeup. The discreet shield is the one your enemy least expects. You dress professionally for your first day of work, but more than that you wear your best appearance. Smooth your hair down, iron your skirt, wear your ankle brace under a layer of leggings. You are ready for this battle.

On your way out of the house, you get a phone call from Cinder. You clear your voice before picking up. "It's awfully early for you to be awake."

"Early? It's only like, one in the morning."

"Cinder, it's five-thirty."

"Ooof. Hm." She steps near some sort of loud, bass-heavy music. You can't begin to guess the tune. It blasts your eardrums, then fades out and you listen keenly to her again. "Shit, did I wake you up?"

"No, no. I'm on my way to work."

"Today's the day?! Good luck! Also, oops! I forgot that was today, because I might have made a teensie deal on your behalf."

You sigh. These things happen, but it does make you seem a fool to call around and beg forgiveness and schedule changes. "What happened?"

"Daddy found somebody who might know about your wire problem ." You forget to walk for a moment, stand like a fool before a street that's perfectly safe to cross."They said they would look into it on their end, but in return they want somebody to come do a checkup on a medical problem for their guy. He's somewhere in the Big Fish's Pond so he definitely has the authority to like, call off any plans to fish in your neighborhood, you know?"

You know. She isn't discreet enough for her own good. "Why do they need an appointment? Is travel an issue?"

"He's not a social guy. Doesn't trust anybody who might report something."

A paranoid shut-in, one of your least favorite types of patients. To make matters worse, he belongs to a man worth fearing. You hope it's not an especially close relationship. "Any other details for me?"

"Yeah, I've got to tell you to meet a guy in Musutafu at six, and he's supposed to give you real details. I can text you the address if you want?"

"Might as well. I'll be off the clock by then, Musutafu is right at the foot of the school, and it must be serious for them to jump through so many hoops."

"It's because you're discreet, F/N. That's what they're looking for here."

You expect nothing less. "Thanks, Cinder. I'll be there."

A few minutes after the end of your call, while you're on the bus, your phone buzzes. A text and a map. It's an isolated place to be picked up, outside of the bright and social areas most cops and Heroes are comfortable patrolling. But it's not so out of the way you're capable of believing you won't be followed or in danger of a Hero interfering with your work. 

But, if worse should come to pass, and you're murdered or imprisoned, at least you won't have to worry about a second day of working with All Might. 

You arrive at U.A. just behind a bulk of students that take no notice of you. It's the end of a break. Most of them are so happy to see one another, there might as well be no world outside U.A.. So much laughter. So much rough-housing. It's a stark change from the dour, often chilling daily life you have shed. 

Students dash past you on the stairs. It might be nice to focus on bloody noses and stomach aches for a while instead of amputations and impalements. You take your coat off as you enter the nursing office, see Recovery Girl is already there, and greet her warmly. "And so it begins," you say with a tremor in your voice.

She nods. The old healer clicks away at a bulky keyboard attached to a monitor screen that might be as old as you are. Oddly, the actual computer, the tower, looks new. An IT department's vain attempt to accomodate a woman who doesn't like change in a world that's roiling and churning and burning. "Let's get you briefed on your duties quickly before we start having patients come in."

"Patients? On the first day?" You check the handbook app on your phone as the bell goes off. "They just have orientation, announcements, and regular classes today. I can't imagine we're going to see anything more than, oh, homesickness and anxiety cramps."

"You might be surprised," says Recovery Girl as she waves you over. "Dearie, I know a good bit of fluff has been put into the rules and procedures you've reviewed, but put that aside. You are here as my assistant. You answer first and foremost to me, second to the school hierarchy. Nedzu is your next boss, not Shouta Aizawa and certainly not All Might."

"I…" You aren't sure how to respond to that other than nod. She is satisfied and continues on.

"It's not too complicated in my office. When somebody comes in for treatment, we log the time, the reason, anything that might be worth recording about the interaction. This computer will let you pull up information for all of the students and faculty. Medical things. Emergency contacts. Work-study and internship numbers if they involve themselves with that. And of course details about their quirks. It should go without saying, all of this information is classified."

"Of course."

"Mhm. Well, I think that covers it."

"It… does?"

She nods. "And when you aren't treating students, you're going to help me with my clerical work. Transcribing old documents, mostly."

Huh. 

"It's a lot of waiting, then?"

"It can be, yes."

"… Huh."

You take a look around what will be your workspace for the coming year. There are two cots, everything is organized to Recovery Girl's reach and liking. You were fairly certain, however, almost everything is supposed to be digitized. There are physical folders everywhere. You open what you suspect to be a reference for conditions and medicines only to fine treatment logs. Just the kinds she told you that you'd be filling out. Years of them. "Are you looking for an old patient's file or something?"

"Those are going to be scanned and digitized."

"Oh, good."

"Once I figure out how to get this computer to talk to the scanner, of course."

You look at the scanner. It's blinking green, indicating its readiness. "It isn't already hooked up?"

"If it is, I can't figure it out."

You look at the folder nearest to her and, to your horror, it also contains treatment logs. Recent ones. "Chiyo, you aren't still doing these by hand, are you? I'm fairly sure you can enter these directly into the network."

"You can?" She huffs and shakes her head. "Dearie, this program is impossible. I think it's better for everybody if I just do this the old way. Nothing will get lost that way."

You will probably spend most of your down time scanning and logging documents when you're working without her, you realize. It doesn't seem so bad. There are only a half-dozen of these black, two-ring binders. "It should be possible to get these in the computer by the end of the month if we work together, surely."

She chuckles to herself and then says, "Dearie, open the storage closet."

Hesitant, you do.

Before you stretches an entire second room, at least twelve feet deep and far wider than a mere closet. All three layers of shelving on the left hand side are stuffed with matching, black binders. They date back more than twenty years. "We… We aren't scanning all of these, are we?"

"Legally, we only have to do the last four years."

"Oh. All right, that--"

"But this is important to me, so we'll be doing all of them."

Ah fuck. 

You go into the storage room and take a look around. The shelves are a nightmare, but the right side of the room is just one, long, empty counter. Upon closer examination, the table has outlets in it and appears to have once belonged to a lab classroom. You decide to plug it in, and find it functional. You poke your head out and speak again to your boss. "Are we allowed to just use this space? Is this cleared off to hold some kind of inventory or overflow?"

"It's not there for a reason, dearie. Why?"

"W-well… I've been thinking about some things." You clear your voice, a little embarrassed because you know where these suggestions are coming from. You were young once. You survived off what little generosity this school offered. "It would be nice to keep some emergency snacks and juice boxes in hand. Sometimes kids just need to eat, you know? And blankets, emergency clothes for outfit malfunctions."

She smiles. "That is very sweet. I can certainly ask Nedzu and the board about that."

"Ah, we can't just do it? It's your office, your storage, and I thought, maybe, you could just make it so."

Recovery Girl chuckles. "I might think about that. You'll have all day to convince me. I have a patient at seven you can help me with, for instance, if you would like a quicker answer?"

"Oh," you say. "I can't. I've already made an appointment with a patient."

She understands. Or, she understands enough. That she doesn't ask for details is a grace you aren't sure you deserve. 

The door opens. "It looks like we have our first patient," says Recovery Girl. "Come on in, dearie, don't be shy."

In, with guilt and shyness on his face and shoulders, slinks Midoriya Izuku. His eyes are fixed on his shoes. He never sees you coming.

"You did it!" You pull him into a hug, float him and yourself off your feet, and probably scare both him and your boss. But it doesn't matter. Victories deserve to be celebrated. "I knew you were going to make it in! I'm so, so, so proud!!"

"Miss L/N?!" He hugs back, but more than that he's confused and ready to go to the ground. You let him go. "I didn't know you worked at U.A.."

"She just started this year," says Recovery Girl. "My, but what do we have here? What's happened to your finger, young man?" It's swollen, purple, definitely broken. He winces even holding it up to be examined. So much for homesickness and anxiety cramps. "Have a seat, young man, and take a few deep breaths. My assistant's quirk should help a bit, and I'll see to you after I make a log and get a splint ready." She opens the folder and makes, to no surprise, a physical note that will need to be digitized later. 

Izuku sits on the cot, shielding his injury with his other hand, clearly ashamed. But accidents happen. It's not worth giving him a hard time, especially since he looks near enough to tears already. "Have either of you seen All Might at the school yet?" he asks.

"No," says Recovery Girl. "We haven't."

Because she knows you wouldn't be keeping yourself so respectful and together if you'd happened upon him without her. 

2.

All Might avoids the treatment he needs because he knows F/N will be there.

It's a bad day. Yesterday, he didn't eat. Last night, he didn't have enough water. This morning, he stopped a bank heist, three runaway cars, stopped a bridge collapse, responded to a hostage situation, and caught a villain fleeing a stalled cop car. He's sore. More than that, he's raw. Every ounce of strength he had to offer is scraped off his muscles with a merciless, steel edge. 

It's the pain in his side that gives no alternative. He has to go see Recovery Girl early. He has to go ask for help, while in agony, while looking like this. He prays F/N won't recognize him. Maybe she'll mistake him for custodial staff, or an administrator, or anything, anything, anything but himself. 

His hand finds the solid, cold resistance of the door. His heart hammers in his chest. It's been so long. He can't count the years since he's seen F/N. He wanted it to be anything but this.

Dread is outweighed by a sharp, familiar stab. He coughs into his hand but fails to catch much of the mess and ruins another shirt. Fuck. Forehead on the wall, out of options, and one inch from the confession he's been avoiding his whole life.

All Might forces himself to enter the room. 

The only coat on the wall is Recovery Girl's. There is nobody else present. "You're early," the old woman says absently.

Did she… quit? And why does it leave him feeling so cold and hollow to think so?

Because it would be the second time she had to leave the school she loved, and the second time it was his fault.

"My assistant went to see a different patient," Recovery Girl says and shatters his illusions. "It's just you and me again tonight, dearie."

He settles into the cot, not willing to argue. He doesn't have the energy. All of this tension built up waiting for a tragedy that isn't coming tonight. Exhaustion. Nausea. Toshinori tries to catch his breath.

He can still smell her quirk in the room. So faint, but unmistakable. 

"You know, you're setting a bad example for your successor. He was already in here today, can you believe it?"

"Yeah, I saw. Broke his finger. But, still, he impressed me. He didn't do it carelessly."

"So you have been here all day, then?"

"Urk!"

"And you've been hiding. From L/N, I presume?"

He swallows another wad of his insides from coming up past the teeth. "It's… It's not that simple."

"You can't avoid her forever," says Recovery Girl. She readies her lips and a syringe. "Eventually, you will have to stand in the same room as L/N, and you will have to talk things out."

He can't help but suspect this was her plan all along.

As far as Toshinori is concerned, he can indeed continue to successfully avoid her. Why not? She could be gone by the time he needs all his personal work done, and there's not much day-to-day interaction between teachers and medical staff. Not under good circumstances. Maybe they will never run into each other and the school year can just progress peacefully.

He fears, though, that Recovery Girl is right. He may need to speak to F/N. And he never could be sure what F/N would say, even when he thought he knew her.

3.

"Yagi!!"

Toshinori's heart leaps out of his chest every time Gran Torino yells at him, but it's worse now. It hurts. It knocks the breath from his lungs and leaves him standing beside his desk in pure hell. His classmates are staring, already prepared to laugh at his expense. "Sir!"

"During the last police interview of Tyrannus, why was he permitted to wear his armor?"

He hates Villain Studies. He has a hard time reading about crooks and killers, imagining the sort of people he will soon be up against and realizing how frightfully, dizzyingly close they are to being anybody else. Any person might snap one day and become a monster to society. How can he be expected to safeguard a society that fears its neighbor and itself? "He--he wouldn't have looked like himself and… and his under-soldiers wouldn't have recognized him."

Gran Torino allows a beat of silence that carves a hole through Toshinori's gut. Torino exhales. "It never ceases to amaze me just how dense you can be."

It never ceases to amaze Toshinori, either. He read the provided material, he studied it twice. But between every other class, and training with Nana, and training with Torino, and just trying to find a second to breathe, it slips his mind.

"L/N, your hand was up. Go ahead."

"Sir. Tyrannus only agreed to reveal the location of his last five victims if he was permitted to wear his regalia for his final statement and autobiographical piece."

"Good."

Leave it to F/N to know the answer. She really tried to help him this time. Toshinori only wishes she'd had better luck.

"But that wasn't really the point," says L/N. Torino hadn't permitted her to continue speaking, but he does not stop her. It gives Yagi a bad feeling. Torino loves to bait an overconfident foe. "Tyrannus was exceptionally prideful, and he knew his men were going to be watching the televised interview. He wanted to make sure his last appearance before them was one he could die without being ashamed of, and to deliver a message of defiance and strength to his gang. Several of his top members decided to commit suicide rather than reveal any of their former boss's trade secrets." She glances at Toshinori. Their eyes meet, just for an instant, and it flips his queasy stomach the other way. "So, in a way, Yagi wasn't wrong. He just wasn't thinking deeply enough."

Torino nods, hands folded behind his back. It's odd to see such satisfaction on his face. Toshinori is jealous. It's exactly the expression Torino might wear if a certain apprentice to a certain legacy ever managed to land one of the punches he bragged about. "An excellent assessment, L/N. If Yagi could tag you in for his written exams and not just his answers in class, he might stand a chance of passing his midterms."

The class's laughter isn't very loud, but it's deafening. This is the worst. This is worse than the workout coming after school ends. This is worse than dying.

"Sir," says F/N when the giggles fade. "I didn't come to those conclusions using the material provided in your class. I found it by going to the library, where I found it in a collection of the undoctored interviews. Upon inspection, many of the versions you provided for the class were censored, misrepresented, or just completely wrong. With what you gave him to work with, he never had a chance of answering correctly."

It is cold. Toshinori is stone. He stares with wide, paralyzed eyes at F/N, who does not meet his gaze. She's fixed her sights on Gran Torino. And Gran Torino does not wear his face of rage for just any offense.

"Go to the office." Torino points to the classroom door. His arm quivers. 

F/N gets up. F/N walks to the door. She looks perfectly relaxed. Yagi can't imagine how. He would be terrified if he was her. He's terrified and he isn't her.

Just before she shuts the door behind her, F/N turns around, smiling, and says, "Really looking forward to reading the detention memo for this." There is a collective murmur from the other students. Toshinori is still frozen.

The tension in Gran Torino's fist promises vengeance.

4.

You put on a face-mask on your way to the rendezvous. You take your hair, styled so carefully, and tuck it into a bun. You take your scarf and cover as much of your head and neck as you sensibly can. You turn your coat inside out. You check your phone and its map one last time to confirm the street and business names. And then, you take the battery out. There is no way to be too careful when visiting paranoid men who have every sensible reason to be paranoid.

The meeting place is near a park. It's late, but there are a handful of older kids running about the obstacles. They remind you of the U.A.students. You are old, you realize, to have such a hard time discerning the ages of children. The days of bubbly ignorance are not only distant to you. They are foreign. Your best, youthful days were a sliver of light amidst months of unrelenting nighttime. 

That must be your contact. Well dressed--purple vest with matching slacks, black umbrella, an overcast atmosphere. His face is a shapeless, black fog with glowing sections you take to be eyes. You exchange bows and he walks beside you until you are out of view of any potential witnesses. "Come inside," he says. But there are no doors around, nor alleys.

He spreads himself into a tall, wide void. You step hesitantly into the darkness and find, thankfully, solid ground. The darkness recedes, but only just. 

You find yourself in a bar. There are few lights, most of them colored or neon, most of them to illuminate a collection of liquor rather than the patrons. However, there are no customers. There is only you, the cloudy man whose body you passed through and now goes to his master, and a scrawny teenager in a dark hoodie. This third person, your patient most likely, sits on a stool that is at the center of the room to provide light. "Is this the medic, Kurogiri?" His voice is dry and sharp. He knows you can hear him. This is part of a performance, but you can't be sure what purpose it serves yet. 

"Yes."

His hand raises toward his head in a contorted fashion, but he stops short of something, wrenches it back down. "Search her," he says, "before she's allowed any closer."

You make yourself useful by setting your purse on the bartop, taking off your coat and scarf. Kurogiri seems uninterested in searching your purse, which he must realize is filled with mundane things and sanitary gloves. It is while he runs his dark, ethereal hands over your chest that he finds something that bothers him. He takes the Medical Hero badge from your chest and sets it on the table in front of his master. You make no move to stop him. 

The boy toys with it for a moment, turns it in his fingers as they clench and cramp. "… I will hold onto this. She can have it back when we finish here." He tucks it into his pocket. "Tell her she may approach, but her mask stays on. She is not permitted to use her quirk on me. And she will not dare to risk the consequences of defiance."

You come forward. He pulls his hood back, finally allowing you to look at your patient. As you suspected, he is young. You can't guess his age. Maybe twenty. Maybe seventeen. You know all too well that age is not a powerful deciding factor for hierarchy within the underworld. His youth warns of a latent talent or deadly connection. 

In the end, however, none of that matters. You see a pang of overwhelming physical irritation zip through him, body language and facial expression, and you come to your senses. He is a patient. You will treat him because you will treat anybody who asks for your help and often those who don't have the opportunity to. 

"What would you like me to look at?"

He cranes away from you and you see the state of his neck. His fingers lurch to pick and peel dry, flaking, red skin. He stops himself. And then he doesn't. He pulls away again, but his hand lingers nearby in a stiff pose. His body is rigid. 

You get a pair of gloves from your purse, pull over a stool to sit on so you can see him from a more comfortable angle, and return. You place your stool in proximity of your patient, but he shoves it back with his foot. "Don't get so comfortable," he warns you. "You won't live to regret it if you try something, Hero."

He must be terrified, you realize. To come to a point where he's willing to call a Hero. Knowing what he risks if you're a double-agent. You do not envy his position. You sit on the stool at the distance he has deemed appropriate. "May I touch your neck?" you ask. 

"…" He nods, you think, and changes his posture. His eyes flick to Kurogiri for confirmation. You, meanwhile, gently touch the skin that he's been destroying. You feel his swallow on your fingertips. 

"How long has your neck been irritated?"

"Always," he says. "Worse lately, suddenly." His jaw is quivering. He is barely putting up with your contact with his skin. 

"Is there anywhere else on your body where you're experiencing similar--"

"You are here," he warns you, "to do one job. One job. Do not ask about my life, do not test my patience and just, just--" He shoots up from his chair, both hands digging into his neck with reckless need. He growls and scratches, tearing himself into a bloody mess. 

You turn to Kurogiri. "There are sanitary wipes in my purse. Grab those for me?" And as he leaves, you take your hair tie out. You float to your distressed patient with your hands visible and your intentions unambiguous. "Darling, let me put your hair up so it stops touching your neck. You can keep scratching for just a moment more if it helps, but let me start here."

"Fine!" he barks. He's already doubled over, a slave to his fits of discomfort. And you can understand why. His flesh is a searing, hellish red. You put his hair up, push his shirt collar as far from the neck as you can, and guide him back to his seat. 

Kurogiri places a wet aloe wipe directly in your hand. "I need to clean it a little," you say gently. "You'll need to move your hand and let me help."

He shakes his head, still raking into his skin. The worst of his fit has ended but his discomfort continues. He has been suffering for a long time. "I see the judgement in your eyes, Hero," he accuses. "I look pathetic to you. I don't need you to rescue me like some ditzy schoolgirl."

"That's not what I'm thinking," you assure him and try to coax his hand from his neck. In spite of his threats, he pulls his hand away in a frightened flash rather than touch you. You realize when looking at his other hand and mopping up the mess he's made of himself that he never places all of his fingers on the same surface at once. His lips are dry as well and the tremble involuntarily as you clean these wounds that burn so deeply and ceaselessly. 

Touch-based quirks and quirks that destroy. A combination any child unlucky enough to be saddled with might never overcome. There were all kinds of solutions for the wealthy and connected. A special trainer. Personalized equipment. Medication. Everybody else, though, had to make due or die trying. Or kill somebody else trying. 

"Darling," you tell him in a tone you might use with anyone. If anything, it has a scolding edge to it. "Powerful quirks have powerful drawbacks. People far older than you, with quirks far weaker, regularly need help caring for themselves. Learning how to live with yourself is a journey that never ends, and there can be no shame in asking for help from people whose job it is to help you. I don't want you to be upset. I'm seeing you vulnerable. I want you to be proud of yourself for surviving a condition most might find unsurvivable, and I want you to let me do what you called me here to do."

He stops fighting with you, at least for now. You do what you can for his neck but the damage is something you would normally use your quirk to mitigate. That's out of the question today. 

"You have a skin infection. Without doing tests, I can't be certain which condition this is. I can recommend a dermatologist."

"No." He means it. There is gravity to the offense in his voice. "No doctors. It was a big enough risk bringing you here. Understand that."

"I do." You take a memo pad and paper and begin to scribble down everything you can think of as useful. "I have a small amount of antibiotics on-hand that I can give you today, but I don't think it's going to be enough to wipe this out. I want you to take one pill every day. It's your decision when, but try to be consistent."

"Fine," he says dismissively.

"I'm not done." 

They both wait silently for you to write a fairly long list, which you tear from your notepad. "These are products with a good history of helping with conditions that look similar to yours. You're going to want to find a moisturizer and keep up with it. If you get behind on application, you may feel worse than ever. And if you use a moisturizer that isn't compatible with you, if it feels like you're more uncomfortable with it, wash it off right away and don't use it again. Finding one that you like may take a few tries."

He nods, but in a manner that suggests he would like this to be done. You have to hurry up.

"If you take hot showers, try switching to lukewarm or cold. Consider switching to a scent-free detergent. Beyond that, I would like to follow up on this appointment in two weeks. If you aren't comfortable seeing me in person, I'm happy to simply drop off medication somewhere for you or Kurogiri to pick up." You clear your throat as he stares at you with pure skepticism. "Kurogiri, you know how to get in contact with me?"

The shadow man nods. 

"Why, Hero?" Shigaraki reaches up to remove the hair tie you provided. He tugs it, but the little band defies his carefulness and strikes across all his fingers at once. It disintegrates into ash, falls to dust between his fingertips. You cannot fathom the nightmare it must be to live with that quirk. Even using a towel, reading a book, scratching an itch. These little things become massive obstacles to those without the tools to overcome themselves. "You must be thinking you took a huge risk coming here. Is your little stalker problem really so bad you would come to beg at my feet instead of the Hero Council's?"

You smile behind the obscuring safety of your mask. If only the Council cared, it wouldn't have come to this. "If you offered me nothing, I still would have come. As far as I'm concerned, this is a transaction between you and Iron Kettle, and I'm just here to do what I always do."

"Meddle?"

"Attempt to help. There are some Heroes in this world who take their oath and say 'to come to the aid of any and all persons' with hollow tongues. Doctors and nurses do not have that privilege. We cannot choose not to treat a patient simply because we do not like them. You are a person before you are anything else. You deserve access to the services and materials that make it possible to live."

He weighs your words, then turns to Kurogiri and says, "Escort her out. And find a different place to meet her in two weeks. I don't want any other Heroes in our business."

You collect your purse, coat, scarf, and step with dignity through the portal Kurogiri carves from his body. A cold rain falls over Musutafu, soaking your hair and mask. You look back to find no trace of the bar you came from, nor the man that ferried you there. It is only when you're at a bus stop, checking schedules and trying to get home, that you realize he never returned your badge.

Chapter Text

1.

All Might is impressed by his new students, but he isn't sure he's connecting with them. The half-hour he's spent with Class 1-A so far has been a blur of new names, faces, quirks, voices. He's attentive, but retention is all the harder with his aches and wheezes. He is only completely certain of one student's identity--Izuku Midoriya. 

Today, the students train in Ground Omega--a section of the campus walled off and filled with a forest habitat. The majority of the students have had unmistakably urban upbringings and fall behind from the group on the march out to examine various bugs, birds and small mammals. The sun shines over them but morning fog lingers and the ground is cool. They've only had access to their new costumes and tools for a few days, but most wear their exoskeletons with pride. Much deserved. All Might knows how hard they worked to make it here. How much effort they've put in for the honor of learning from the best Heroes Japan has to offer.

If only, he lamented, he was worthy of their valiance. 

Eraserhead turns sharply toward him. "That's another point from the training exercise docked from Rikido Sato," he huffs. All Might forces his focus on the students. Which one is Sato? Whoever just fucked up, presumably, but the situation seems an undefinable haze to his late eyes. The students continue to build a makeshift system of reaching a dummy in a tree. A particularly strong boy and a girl with acidic properties yell at one another in frustration, then apologize, then race off to their next checkpoints. Nothing seems amiss. "Shaking a tree isn't the way to go about rescuing a frightened child. I don't know if they can't imagine the dummies as people, or they think this is funny, or what. But they're not going to like the laps I send them on after this."

"That seems a little harsh, doesn't it?"

Eraserhead's red, angry gaze seizes All Might's heart. "I'm training them to be Heroes, not halfwits." He is prepared to lash out with another biting statement, but their radio screeches from a student's attempt at contacting the monitoring tower. Eraserhead grumbles before he picks up. "What's your status?"

"Aoyama hurt his stomach," says an ashamed, young voice. All Might looks from their high, convenient platform and finds the youth that must be Aoyama. He is blond, laying on the ground, holding both hands over his gut while a pair of young friends take turns holding his hand and fanning him. The girl on the radio is, hm, is that Midoriya's friend? She has a gravity quirk. He can't recall her name. 

Eraserhead sighs loudly. "I'll call the nurse's office and have them send somebody out."

Sweat slides down All Might's neck. "Is it really that serious? Couldn't one of the other students who have finished their course take him there?"

"I've dealt with this enough times to know it's better not to make him get up. Don't talk." He dials something into his cell phone, brings it to his ear, and speaks to Recovery Girl about the situation.

Just as the Symbol of Peace fears, she's going to send F/N.

He looks at his scrawny, sweaty hands. He has only a few minutes left in him, only so much strength left to be All Might today. He planned to use it at the end of class to congratulate everyone on their work and to give a nice little wrap-up speech. What if F/N came up to the observation deck? He would have to spend it, every second and more, keeping up appearances. It isn't the right time, he tells himself. It isn't the right time for her to know about his condition.

It will never be the right time. 

A tree falls down in the training area. Eraserhead makes some quick, scathing note on his clipboard, growls to himself, and then looks at All Might again. "A point from Mina Ashido. Pay attention."

He tries. 

He begins to see what his colleague is upset about. The collateral damage this team has caused while attempting multiple rescues is unprofessional. They're just kids, though. They barely have a handle on their quirks. They need opportunities to make mistakes like these, as well as stretch their abilities, grow. This is just an exercise. Why take it as seriously as life and death, especially on the first week of school?

The last thing he wants is one of his students to feel discouraged. That's how you lose your kids. That's how you see them drop out of school and disappear into the maw of Villainy.

"Rikido--"

"I saw that one," All Might assures. "I'll talk to him about it when I figure out how to phrase things. I understand what he thinks he's doing with his strength, but it's not working. I can handle that lecture."

There is no belief in Eraserhead's eyes. No faith All Might will follow through. And after cancelling so many plans and meetings with somebody who is, functionally, his boss? He can hardly blame Eraserhead for the mistrust. 

He looks past his angry coworker, at the monitor, and sees footage of F/N entering Ground Omega. 

And for a while, he forces himself not to look. Yes, the students doing their rescue course are still at it. Yes. Yup.

The radio buzzes again. "What's your status?"

"U-um, Nurse L/N is here now, Mister Aizawa! Reporting that. That's procedure, right?"

"That is correct. Good job, Uraraka." He takes his finger off the button and puts the radio down, but it continues to broadcast from the student line. They can hear a hubbub of "It's gonna be okay, Aoyama" and "Hi, nice to meet you!" from the youngsters. 

Eraserhead scowls. "Aaaand she forgot to kill her line. Great."

He can't help but overhear. Her voice, even through so many filters, electrifies. "Deep breaths, darling. That's excellent. Is that doing anything?"

"I'm already starting to feel better."

"Your quirk can cause you such pain! I'm astonished you would decide to become a Hero in spite of everything."

"It's just who I am," he insists with a dramatic lilt in his voice. "A true diva knows beauty is painful."

F/N speaks louder, addressing all of the surrounding students. "It's all right to breathe my mist, have no fear. At worst, you may feel a bit sleepy. It's quite healthy for you, actually."

"Wow. You have a really cool quirk, Nurse L/N. I wish I could float like that."

"Is that so? I don't know, I think it would be very handy if I could harness electricity. I wouldn't have to worry about my phone dying."

They share warm, polite giggles. All Might is envious. F/N has such natural charisma with these kids while he feels an insurmountable barrier preventing connection. He can't be himself around them. He can only be a shadow of their celebrity idol, an Imitation Might. 

If he had more time, maybe. If he could retain his form long enough to really talk to them, maybe this wouldn't seem daunting. 

The next round sees Midoriya and Bakugou paired together to rescue the dummies. Quickly, it devolves into Bakugou pitting himself against Midoriya. Of course he will pay special attention to his successor's progress. 

"Have you met All Might yet, Nurse L/N? Are you going to stay until after class to meet him?"

All Might splits his focus.

"Hm. I've met All Might before, and I imagine he must be a busy man. I don't think it's a good idea for me to take up his time."

The electric boy, Kaminari? He chuckles. "It's ok to admit you're starstruck, Nurse L/N. We were, too. I'm sure he won't mind meeting you. He's really cool, actually. And you've got us to introduce you, so you might even get an autograph."

"Is that so? I would rather have all of your autographs, though. Something like that will be worth a lot when you're all famous Heroes."

"Dammit!!" Eraserhead slams his board down and hurries for the tower door, yelling at All Might as he goes. "Pay attention!"

The altercation between Bakugou and Midoriya is escalating. Worse, it's meandering. Their bout moves closer, and closer, and closer to their classmates and their medic. Toshinori grips his chest. One of Bakugou's attacks goes stray, sending debris raining everywhere. He blows himself even closer to what would be civilians. And he doesn't let up, he just prepares for another round of firecrackers. 

"Enough!" Eraserhead uses his quirk to erase the explosions before they can be conjured.

But his gaze, from such a distance, goes wide. Hits other marks. The kids do not rely on their quirks and do not notice.

F/N's quirk fails beneath her and sends her plummeting to the ground.

The agonized scream from her throat burns through him in an arc. It's lightning. 

2.

"No! No, no, no!" F/N's flail is a desperate, vain attempt to swim downward. She kicks her legs, but it does her no good. Her terrified yelps become clouds that sink and dissipate. She continues to rise.

The class gathers at the edge of the track and watches her go. Gran Torino shakes his head, cups his hands around his mouth, and shouts, "Pull yourself together!"

"Help!!"

"Sir, she's too high!" Toshinori feels her fear mirrored in his core. She's going beyond the height of the school roof with no signs of slowing down. Worse, she's caught by the wind, being pulled out over the hillside. What if she ends up over the city? What if she falls?

But Torino is not concerned. "She needs to learn how to control her abilities."

She whirls in the air, kicking helplessly against the sky, calling back toward her murmuring classmates. "Help!!" she screeches again. They look at each other, whisper, consider it. But the very few capable of getting her down are not willing to endure Gran Torino's wrath. They know why she's been abandoned. She challenged his authority.

Toshinori looks from his teacher to his friend, over and over, waiting for the moment she's finally failed badly enough to earn mercy. She keeps going. She keeps crying for help. He continues to watch and wait. "Sir!" Toshinori's frustration threatens to bubble into screaming and tears. Please, anything but tears.

"If she can't keep a cool head in a crisis, what good is she as a Hero? Medical Heroes are held to a higher standard, not a lower one."

"She's having a panic attack! Whatever you think she's supposed to learn, she isn't going to learn it like this!"

Her wails reach a new and sickening stage. Grief. "I don't want to die like this!"

"You want her down so badly?"

"Yes!"

"Then go get her yourself."

Toshinori throws down his jacket. His classmates hum in disbelief, watching him set up for the longest, highest jump of his life. "He can't possibly do it," they say. And… and he believes them. He swallows. He squints against the sun to find her in the sky. She's barely visible. In spite of her screaming, he can hardly hear her anymore.

This is no longer about if he can. He has to.

Toshinori pulls back with everything he has and snaps forward, upward. Thunder at his heels. A whirlwind. A hurricane. 

F/N's distant, squealing shadow is nearer and nearer, encased in blue, swimming in natural and unnatural clouds. 

Her warmth and meager weight reach his arms. She is still screaming when he folds her against his chest. 

The wind eats all sound. He looks at the horizon, the cityscape filled with people and their dreams, the winding road from Musutafu into the lush, green countryside. Cars and businesses. Bright lights and movie posters plastered across industrial signs. The ocean. He has never been so high before, hovering above this gray, emerald, blue, broken, beautiful land. He has never seen so many of its faces all at once. How humbling, he thinks, to be a small creature in a very big world.

And then he looks in his arms, and that same world shrinks away in the void. Her eyes are bleary, wide, terrified. She grasps the collar of his shirt and her hand locks above his heart. "Am I dead?" 

"No." The stillness becomes a slow, downward sink. Her breath streams about in vibrant, violet puffs that smell like a garden. "I promised, didn't I? I'll always be here to help you down." This is the moment, the one Nana told him to be ready for. He smiles, not just for show, but because F/N needs to know she's safe.

There is an indescribable beauty in the landscape below, but even that majesty does not touch him like the melody of relief in her dry voice.

3.

You don't know what happened. One second, you're hovering between Yuga Aoyama and any potential debris kicked up from the ongoing squabble.

Then, you've crashed. Earthlocked. 

The fear hits you first. That's what makes you scream. You know what's about to happen, what sensation is about to catch up with you. It's just a matter of the nerves making the loop between--

"F/N?"

The world is black, it's red, it's shaking on the edges. And then it's sort of blue and yellow and solid against the back of your head. You blink, lurching to sit up. 

You are in All Might's arms. He has, mercifully, gotten you a few meters away from the children. His famous smile, so comforting to those who have never seen the wrong side of it, is askew. You look up from that into his eyes. They are the same compassionate, cerulean blue you remember.

And then the pain. Twisted sparks coil up your leg and jab into your stomach. You clasp your hand over your mouth. Whatever you do, don't throw up on All Might. A great, horrible shiver wracks your body. For barely an instant, you are rigid in his grasp.

"F/N?!"

No. No, not this. You shove yourself out of his arms, find you are floating correctly again, and gasp for air. You just need a second to get yourself together. And if All Might is good for anything, it's blocking a view. You make sure to stay out of visible range of the students.

Eraserhead dives in from above, rushes past his students with a quick command to the class representative to keep things orderly. "L/N, are you all right?"

"She fell--"

"I'm fine," you pant. "I'm all right. It took me by surprise more than anything." You are lying. You are in serious pain. But you can pull it together.

Neither of the men look convinced. "Let me take you to Recovery Girl," says All Might.

You cannot imagine anything you would like less than being carried back to your own office and your own boss by your former best friend. "Really, I'm fine. I'll head there after I finish with the students anyways."

Eraserhead folds his arms. "Practice is as good as over after their little stunt, and everyone else is intact. Let All Might take you to the nursing office."

"You don't have that authority," you say in a haze of fear, frustration, anger, and pain, pain, pain. "I'm not your subordinate. I'll help myself out."

You've surprised him and not in a good way. Eraserhead is confused if not offended. Of course. Who wouldn't want to be whisked away by the Symbol of Peace himself? So exciting. So romantic.

It's All Might's expression that eats at you. "F/N…" 

Don't look at his face. Don't look into his eyes. Don't do this to yourself. You've cried enough over that foolish, grinning mug over the years. Not today. Not now. Huffing and puffing and trying to find the right angle to carry your leg, you float around and head for the forest path. The exit isn't especially far. You'll have some time to be alone, get yourself calmed down. 

You won't.

Warm and solid at your back, wind on your face, the sky suddenly far too close. He grabbed you. That bastard grabbed you without your permission, jumped you into the sky, and intends to take you to Recovery Girl. After you told him not to. Because he never listens. 

"Stop!" You slam your hands against his chest. It does nothing. You're going higher.

Higher.

He didn't need to take you this high.

"Stop!" You cry again. The air is thinning. "I hate this! I hate this! Put me down!!"

You are familiar with pain. You've done your share of damage unto others. You've held knives and used your fists and resorted to far crueler methods than you care to recall. But you did something to him with those words. Something reprehensible. The sorrow in his expression shreds you apart in a way that overshadows every ache your ankle has ever known.

He tucks your head under one hand. You fall. You feel the plunge, the end, the doom of that descent. Your body prepares for death.

But it does not come. All Might touches down, safe, gentle as ever, and carries you from the roof of the school building, inside, down the stairs, and back to work. "I'm sorry," he whispers. You can't respond. You can barely breathe.

He takes you all the way through the door before he finally puts you down before a rightfully horrified Recovery Girl. "What happened?!"

"She took a fall. Eraserhead accidentally stopped her quirk." He offers you a hand to reach proper elevation for the cot, but you manage without him. "F/N, I--"

"Just go!" you wail. You point at the door. "Go!"

He does. He leaves the room backward, lingers a moment, and when you look back he's disappeared. Recovery Girl shuts the door again and you draw in a ragged, suffocating sob.

She tends your ankle, quicker than you'd expect for her age, still as spry as she's ever been. And calm. How you envy the determined serenity of your instructor while you fall apart like a tantruming child in your own workspace. "What is wrong with me?" you ask her from behind your hands and tears. 

"Dearie, it looks broken."

"No! I know. I know that." If only the physical damage was the worst thing about your injury. "I look like an idiot! I look like a moron who can't take care of herself, and can't get along with her coworkers, and can't do her job! And now even the kids are going to think I'm an old, frail burden! Why?!"

"F/N, dearie…"

"All I want to do is the right thing, and every time, he sabotages me without even realizing it! Why?!"

You do not feel Recovery Girl's kiss. It is the exhaustion, which washes over you like a pool of cement. You slump in the cot. She hands you a box of tissues and you go through four before the crying ends and you are as able to hold yourself up. "I'm sorry," you whimper.

"It's fine, dearie. Sometimes, what we really need is a good cry." She shakes her head, already writing something in one of those damn binders. "Other times, rest and aspirin. I'm sending you home."

"What?!"

"Take the rest of today off and tomorrow, too. If you're not better after that, I want to see you again."

"Chiyo, no! I don't need to walk to do paperwork. I can stay here and digitize things, can't I?" She shakes her head and you stubbornly insist, "I don't want to leave!"

But she gives you that look and she says your name with a special clipped tartness. "Dear. Look at yourself. You are disoriented, and crying, and you look a mess. This isn't how you want to present yourself to potential patients, is it? If a child with a serious problem came through those doors right now, what would they think of this sight?"

She's right. You can't risk frightening somebody with your own burdens. Relent, nod as you fold over to rest your head against your knees.

"I'll call you a cab. Sit tight, dearie."

Chapter Text

1.

Class hasn't started yet, but Midoriya is already struggling to stay awake. He didn't get much sleep last night, and by the look of his classmates, he wasn't alone in the insomnia. 

Almost everyone who had time to participate in the rescue drill failed. Those who damaged their dummies or caused undue environmental havoc ended up doing laps around the school during a special detention. Far worse than the ache in his legs was the dread in his stomach. Those who had not managed to finish or even start their drill still had to sit through Eraserhead's lecture. Class is five minutes from starting but the atmosphere is dreary and nobody is really talking. They are already at their desks, for the most part. 

Their teacher arrives at the bell with his sleeping bag tucked under one arm. He finishes his juice pouch, trashes it, goes to check attendance. Mina Ashido raises her hand with desperate concern. "Mr. Aizawa, is Nurse L/N okay?"

His tone is calm. He knew this question was coming. Midoriya planned to ask it himself if somebody hadn't beaten him to it. "She is at home, resting. She'll probably be back in the next couple days." But that wasn't what she asked and it certainly wasn't what the class wanted to know. The back row gossip began, so he has to address the issue again once attendance is taken. "She has a pre-existing injury in her leg and fell on it. It's nothing life-threatening."

"She wouldn't have gotten hurt to begin with if somebody had been more careful."

"Bakugou."

"Shut up! If it was anybody's fault, it was dumbass Deku's. He knew what was going on and he led a fight to civilians."

"Enough!!" The room is silent again, but Midoriya feels the weight of his former friend's accusation. It is his fault. Heroes need to keep people safe, and fighting so close to vulnerable bystanders can have deadly consequences. Aizawa made as much clear yesterday. Class 1-A has managed to collectively get twelve imaginary people killed, and one real one very hurt. "We have other things to focus on now. Thanks to your stunts yesterday, we are officially running behind in Villain Studies, so I'm going to give you your assignments now. Congratulations on earning yourselves one less day to work on it."

They would groan, but the wind has already been knocked from their sails. Who really has the energy to fight about this?

Aizawa writes down due dates and length expectations on the board. "You are to pick a historically significant Villain and give a presentation in front of the class. You will be expected to know their abilities, their influence on modern Heroism, and how they were caught. If you pick one who never was, well… Your job becomes to explain how they might theoretically be captured. I understand most of them will be long dead, this is just an exercise. But, it's an exercise that will get you ready for the real world. Briefings are a Hero's lifeline. Remember that."

Midoriya writes down briefings = lifeline in his notebook. He does feel a little enthusiastic about this. It seems like an assignment he might do for fun, in his own time, were it not for the criminal twist. Which Villain, though? There are so many. Not as many famous ones are there are famous Heroes, but enough to be truly daunting. He daydreams about the possibilities instead of concentrating through the beginning of his first class.

2.

Nana claps and smiles. Toshinori isn't sure what she's said--he can barely hear over the sound of his own haggard breaths. But she's happy. He can tell she's prouder of him today than she ever has been.

He pulls himself up from the impact crater, but dizzy, falls into his mentor's waiting hug. "I knew it was just a matter of time before you got a grip on One for All! Look at you, not losing your strength even once today. That's my boy!"

"Thank yaaah!" He falls backward into the pit of his own creation, but Nana grabs him by the shirt and pulls him back to solid ground. Toshinori coughs and gasps for air. "Th-thank you."

She slaps his back, which sort of helps but mostly hurts. "What changed?"

He looks up at her. His mentor is beautiful. She's strong in ways he isn't sure he can be. Strong enough to punch a hole in the moon. Strong enough to hush a crying baby during a raging storm. When he thinks of being a Hero and saving the world, he imagines her and not himself. "Changed?" he asks.

"Yesterday, you were struggling to keep yourself together, and I could see how much it hurt you to smile. Today, you're doing what you thought was impossible. You're filled with confidence! You're standing up tall!" She takes him by the shoulders. "What made it click, Toshi?"

She brings him back to that moment. To that big, dire leap. "I don't know. I saw somebody who was begging for help, and I had to go. L/N needed me. It felt like this great, big, full-body clench. I didn't have time to think about how I did it, it just happened."

She kisses his forehead. The sensation shoots all the way down to his toes and up through the skull again. If Nana asked him to jump as high as he could right then, for her, he would have launched himself into the sun. "I'm glad for you. And very, very proud."

"I-I…" He coughs and tries to force a smile that overpowers the tears. Too late. "Thank--"

"Oh, Toshi, honey." She rubs his eyes and nose dry with her rough glove. "If you get all sniffly like that, you'll have a really hard time keeping sand and mud out of your nose. Let's do our next workout on some grass so… So… Your phone is ringing," she chuckles and pats his jacket pocket while it blasts some cheesy, popular, pop song ringtone. "Go ahead and answer."

He juggles his phone into his hands and against his ear, forcing himself to not sound like he's a huge wuss and crying over the phone. "Hi, F/N!" he chirps.

" Quasar Falls is showing at the theater downtown! At midnight!"

"Really!?" He has been waiting eagerly since the first trailer. Action packed, stylish, colorful, and filled with Heroes. Rumors from leaks and test screenings suggest Quasar Falls might be the best Hero movie in a decade. 

"I scored tickets! There were only like, fifteen left! Toshi, are you free tonight?! Can you come with me?!"

He winds up to answer with an enthusiastic, overwhelming "YES!" But then he remembers who he's with, the commitment he's made, and he swallows the excitement. "I'm training with my mentor tonight. I'm sorry. You're still going to go, right?"

"I mean… I guess so. Do you not want me to?"

"It's fine, just no spoilers, okay? We can go see it together next week or something. I'll pay?"

"Nah, don't worry about that. Train hard and have fun or whatever. And thank your mentor again for me, okay? I think I might wear ankle weights for the rest of my life."

He chuckles. "But not swimming, though?"

"Especially swimming."

"Please don't. A-anyway, I need to get back to practice. I'll see you." It kills him a little bit to hang up, but he has to do this. He's only just got his quirk in order, only recently found the control his classmates have had for years. There is no time to waste. Deep breath. No tears. He turns to Nana, ready and revved up to go.

But she's the one crying this time.

It completely disarms him.

She is beaming, wiping a stream from the corner of her eye, and puts her hand on his shoulder again. "Toshi?" she says somewhere between laughter and pleasant disbelief. "Did you make a friend?"

He opens his mouth, closes it again for finding himself speechless. He didn't think Nana would want to hear about that kind of thing. 

She huffs to cool herself off and shakes away the few remaining tears. Her eyes are still red. "And here I was, so worried you were going to be lonely. No wonder you've been doing better lately."

"Nana…"

"We can work on this another time. There's always going to be a ground and sky, no time limit on jumping. Working hard is essential to becoming a Hero who can save people, but so is relaxing and connecting with others. Go to the movies with your friend, Toshi."

"Really?!"

"Really."

He almost breaks his phone, so desperate to pull it out and redial. "F/N! F/N, I'm free tonight!"

The sound on the other end of the line, along with a long, celebratory "YEAH!" is unmistakably of F/N falling and many, many pieces of furniture coming down with her. "I'm ok! I'm fine!"

"Be more careful! You aren't allowed to die before midnight. You have the tickets!"

3.

All Might understands these meetings are so late at night for his benefit, but it makes him tired. He gets up in the dark, works all through the day in one form or another, and doesn't truly sit down until it's nighttime again. The paperwork all runs together. The electric buzz of fluorescent lighting bores into the back of his skull. His lung is filled with hot tar. His guts are a twisted knot of frayed meat and acid. The weight on his shoulders is heavier when the sun goes down. 

"Okay. That's the last thing we had scheduled to talk about." Present Mic has some water and adjusts his neck apparatus while he has it off. It's back to patrol for most of them after this. Not All Might. Not even if he wanted to more than anything else in the world. Some nights, he can push through. Tonight, his wounds have the final word. Mic waits for a while but instead of motioning to adjourn, he takes a deep breath. "I guess I'll be the one to bring it up, then."

"What's wrong, Hizashi?"

"One of us should call F/N L/N to check on her. And to show some support. You know?" He shrugs. "I remember my first year as a faculty member being stressful and terrifying, but I never even got hurt. Certainly not on my first week. And you know, she doesn't know any of us like we know each other. Might be a bit isolating."

"She knows Recovery Girl," says Snipe. "Is that not enough?"

"No. She's one of us. If she isn't allowed to feel that way, we probably won't be able to keep her."

Toshinori isn't sure what all the silence is about. What reason could they have to not like F/N? He understands if she hates him, but he can't imagine how anybody could dislike her. She is kind, attentive, and fun. 

At the same time, he does not want to be the one to make that call. Couldn't be him. Would she even pick up?

Are the other teachers looking at him? He feels like maybe they are. His skin crawls.

Eraserhead speaks up, tone annoyed and tired, but when isn't it? "I'll do it. It's my fault she got hurt to begin with so I owe her an apology."

It settles the matter. Everybody starts to pack their things, All Might included. "Motion to end the meeting and go the fuck home," says Midnight.

"Sec--"

"Denied." Everyone turns to Aizawa, who sits sourly in his chair. He wore that expression when he was disappointed in the students during practice. He wields it now against his colleagues, only some of whom are immune. "This problem has gotten out of hand and I'm putting it to bed. Now. We can't choose to exclude one of our core staff members or treat her like an infiltrator or a threat."

What? All Might's mouth hangs open.

"I shouldn't have to remind you that L/N is a Pro Hero, even if she chooses not to use her moniker. Anodyne has worked tirelessly with hospitals around the country, especially to heal Heroes injured in the field. If you've ever woken up in a hospital after a Villain attack went wrong, and you're not sure how you're alive, well… She might be how. She's a respected member of the Medical Hero division, somebody we would trust with our lives and our students' lives. If you have a problem trusting her, you're going to need to take a look at yourself."

All Might stands up. His hand is knotted tight around his pen. "Why is this even a discussion? F/N is one of the most worthy Heroes I've ever met! Moreover, she's a good person. A caring person." He stops himself from getting too upset, stalling his coughs for a while longer. "Who here has a problem working with her?"

His peers look at one another. They are confused, he realizes. 

"Does… nobody want to admit to that?" he asks, pressing the issue again. "Eraserhead is right. If this is a problem at all, it's gone on too long."

"All Might, we were pretty sure you were the one who had a problem with her."

It's like an anvil passing through his soul, crushing all his bones on the way down. "… What?"

"Well," Cementoss tries in his most patient, polite tone. "You skip any meeting she's scheduled to go to."

"And you take the long way around the school to avoid passing by her office," Mic says before Toshinori has a chance to object. "And whenever somebody starts talking about her, you slunk down in your chair. Yeah, like that."

He puts his face in his hands and his elbows on the table. "That's not her fault."

"What were we supposed to assume? She's the only faculty member who you refuse to show your condition to," growls Eraserhead. "Even Lunch Rush knows. And not the person Recovery Girl hired expressly to deal with your medical conditions?"

"That's not why. She loves UA, she's always loved this school. Her application--"

"She didn't apply. Nedzu and Recovery Girl cornered her. The same way Kayama cornered me into this job." He takes a deep breath. "Whatever is going on between the two of you, fix it. The rest of us don't deserve to put up with the atmosphere you two are stirring up. I motion to end the meeting."

"Second."

"Granted. Let's go the fuck home."

All Might stays in his seat and waits for everybody else to leave. He feels like an asshole. He feels horrible, and he barely realizes what he's done wrong. All he wanted was to avoid F/N. He didn't want to hurt her reputation, or her feelings, or any other part of her. He heard her tell Recovery Girl, "he sabotages me without even realizing it" . She was right. That's exactly what he's managed to do. All to preserve his guttering pride. 

It takes time to find strength of will and strength of leg. Ten minutes pass. Twenty. Waiting will not make the problem go away. A half hour after everyone else has gone, he shuts off the lights and begins the short, endless walk to his truck. 

Lights are still on in the library. He peeks through the window, wary of anyone who should not see him here or in his current state.

Young Midoriya is asleep with his head in a textbook. All Might checks the time on his phone. It's late. He won't get home until well after curfew at this rate. All Might sighs, finds his way inside, and shakes his successor awake. "Kid. Hey, kid."

"Hm…?" Midoriya blinks. And then shoots up in a bleary daze. "All Might? All Might!"

"Hitting the books pretty hard, huh? Here's a tip from your mentor. You need to keep your eyes awake to read."

He chuckles and rubs his eyes. "I didn't get enough sleep last night, I guess. We had kind of a rough class after you left. It's… It's nothing. Mr. Aizawa can just be really blunt about things sometimes."

"I know how that is." All Might pries at the edge of Izuku's book to check the title. "Villain Studies, huh? It was a tough subject for me. Most of the time, F/N helped me with those essays. If you need help, she's a great resource."

"Really? I would never have guessed!" He folds the book up and puts it in his backpack. "But, All Might, are you sure she's the same F/N L/N you knew in high school? She looks way too young. She looks younger than Mister Aizawa, I think."

"Oh, I'm sure it's her. The years just haven't rubbed off on her much." He'd been doing nearly as well up until six years ago. Then, his previously stellar health plummeted, hit every branch on the way down, and landed him here, in this moment. He scans the shelves in the U.A. School History Reference section. "I can prove it to you. Let's see..." He pulls a particular yearbook from the bulk. It's getting on in years as well, with a weak spine and some barely-restored pages. He sets it on the table to flip through. "Here it is."

"Whoa…" Midoriya marvels over an old photo as if he's seen the secret of the universe. "That's you?!"

"In Third Year, yup." He is preserved in the snapshot, young and powerful and naive. The background stands out starker in this photo than his memory. The couples dancing. The decorations they all worked to make. The teachers who barely let them have the party. "Our class got together for this celebration a couple weeks before midterm exams."

"You're so tall! Am… Am I going to get that tall?" He gasps. "Am I going to be as tall as you, All Might?!"

"Hm. It's too early to say." He hopes not, for Izuku's sake. The growing pains lasted for years and his balance didn't really settle until just before college. "It could happen, though. So, I guess make sure to budget for new shoes. Those always seem to be the first to go."

"I will! But, um, what does this have to do with Nurse L/N?"

All Might taps the photograph, just to the left of his own stupid, young grin. "That's her." There she is, in that perfect past, with his arm around her waist and her tongue out. He can see the place Yearbook Club had to edit her inappropriate gesture away. And he can remember how hard F/N laughed when she saw the trouble they went through. It makes him smile, but the back of his throat is suddenly tight.

"It is her!" Midoriya gawks. "She doesn't look anything like that anymore."

"Yeah, she was into Guro fashion back then. Probably, hospitals would have a problem with a Medical Hero who comes in dressed like that."

Izuku marvels at the picture, not interested in looking at the rest of the yearbook until, at last, he sees the memorial section on the opposite page. "Somebody in your class died, All Might?"

"… Yeah." At the time, it was on everybody's mind. He hasn't thought about it in years. Not directly. "Kazan Dansa. He was one of the best."

"What happened?"

"…"

"All Might?"

"It's not a pretty story."

"W-well, no. I didn't expect that. But, I do want to know."

He supposes it's fine for Midoriya to be aware. It was so very long ago, and maybe, somehow, this will help shape his understanding of his heroic self. "His parents were a Pro Hero team. Around the time we had midterms, the two of them went together to respond to a Villain attack. They expected an ordinary arrest, but it ended up being one of All For One's top assassins. Somehow, the Heroes won." The whole thing was televised, but only once. Live. He can remember the footage, at first so glorious and suddenly so, so wretched. "The Villain's mask was rigged to explode upon removal. Both of them died in the blast. And Dansa… He overdosed, alone, in their house. Suicide."

Midoriya is horrified. Rightfully so. "But…"

"Saving people can be a ruthless business, kid. When it goes wrong, there's a lot of fallout. Honestly, though? I have mixed feelings about how everything measures out."

"What do you mean?"

"Dansa's death was horrible. It should never have happened. And his parents were good people who didn't deserve to go out that way. But they knew the dangers they signed up for when they took their oath and got their licenses. Furthermore, they managed to take out Reaper Junior. They might have saved dozens of other Heroes with what ended up being their ultimate sacrifice."

Midoriya is troubled. Maybe it was too much for him to digest after all. He is still a child. "Reaper Junior…"

"Mhm. Also called the Laughing Reaper. There was one before them called the Choking Reaper who was confirmed killed by their own subordinates. And one after, the Sandman Reaper."

"I don't know any of those Villains."

"They're all pretty before your time, but they were a big deal in my day. Ah, but I never really was great at keeping track of that kind of thing. And I'd rather forget the one encounter I did have with the Sandman Reaper. Nothing came of it, but I was scared."

"You, All Might?"

"Even me, kid. Once in a while."

"I can't imagine," says Izuku. "You're the bravest person I know. The bravest in the world. There's nothing All Might can't do."

Except work up the nerve to talk to an old friend, apparently.

"Come on, kid. I'll give you a ride home. I don't want your mother to worry where you are."

4.

You are at home. Still.

The whole internet is available to you. There is nothing worth watching anywhere on it.

Your ankle is fine. Sore. No more so than it would be in response to bad weather or too many hours standing. You peer out your window at the passing lights and rough, crude laughter. Iron Kettle's patrolmen. They raise a little stink, make themselves and their territory known, and then leave again. Your neighborhood has been peaceful for everyone, not just you, since their arrival. There are a lot of beer cans around, though. Perhaps you should set out a recycling box for their benefit. 

You eat. You drink water. You take some more aspirin. 

You wait for tomorrow to come.

It's been a long time since you lived like this, tense and wired every night, relieved and happy to be at U.A. during the day. It's the way the seasons cycle, you remind yourself. You've gotten so damn old that you've got nowhere left to go but the places you've already been. Seen it all. Done it all.

And what would logically come after your stint at U.A.? Another mask, another crime? Certainly not. Consider that cycle broken.

Your phone rings. It is Eraserhead, the Heroics teacher. Maybe you're being fired. Maybe you're being called in on an emergency. "Hello?"

"I'm calling to check on F/N L/N."

"Uh, I'm… I'm good. I'm fine, thanks." 

"Good to hear. If you need another day or two to recover, you can take it off."

"No, no. I'm going in tomorrow."

"Good."

He's not much of a talker. How can these Pro Hero men be so bad on the phone? Don't they do phone interviews? But, then, you're not pulling your weight in this conversation, either. "I'm sorry about the way I spoke to you yesterday. It was wrong of me to undermine your authority, especially because you were trying to help me. You were helping me. I just didn't want to swallow my pride. I'm sorry."

"No, I'm the one who called to apologize to you. It was my quirk that did this."

"You were doing your job. Sometimes that goes awry. It's not something you should feel guilty about."

"I do, though. A Pro needs to do better. Regardless… I'll be happy to see you back at school in the morning. The students will be, too."

You doubt that. What kind of child is happy to be around a nurse? "Thank you, Eraserhead." If you want to ask, this might be your only chance. You won't have the courage to pry for information in person. You won't call him again, especially not to pester. "Hey, Eraserhead? Stop me if I'm out of line. But is All Might all right?"

"He didn't say anything at the meeting, so I really wouldn't know."

"No, I mean… Does he seem ok to you? Health wise?" You hate to do this. It's so invasive. And Eraserhead is so very, very not the person to ask. But All Might is technically his subordinate within U.A. and you have to start somewhere. "Recovery Girl… She made it seem like things are worrisome. When I see him, I can't see anything wrong. I don't know what to look for. I was wondering if, maybe, he had told you anything?"

There is a long sigh. You take it as annoyance, but his tone is more patient and somber than expected. "I'm sorry, L/N. It's not my place to say. You're going to have to talk to him yourself."

"Yeah." You swallow. "Yeah. Thank you anyway."

"Get some sleep."

"You too."

Chapter Text

1.

"Dearie, I'm going to step outside and get some air before the day starts," says Recovery Girl, wiping her eyes on the back of her sleeve. She has that hospital smell about her, that late-night, no-sleep, lost-cause kind of scent. You think about how many years of service she has on you and really wish she could retire. She's done more than her share of work for a lifetime, but if she were to stop, everything might come crashing to a halt. Whatever break she wants, she's earned it. It's hers. "Five minutes?"

"Take ten. I'm just going to be here running paper through the scanner. You won't be missing much."

"Famous last words, my dear. Famous last words," she chuckles and shrugs on a sweater. She shuffles out the door, which you leave cracked open.

Beep beep , goes the scanner. And also Rrrrrrr . And chu-chuh, chu-chuh . While the program sorts text into files based on the boxes of the original paperwork, you return the hole-punched pages to their proper position, in their proper binder, then to their home on the shelf. The machine can only handle about seven pages at a time, however. Sometimes that encompasses a week of U.A.'s medical past. Sometimes it covers an hour. You confirm the names and dates registered correctly, then count out the next seven pages and briefly wonder over the case of some young man from twenty years ago who managed to get a milk jug caught on his head. 

"Knock, knock," says somebody as they also tap the door. Both Present Mic and Midnight linger outside your door. They clutch their bags and books, surely on their way to teaching the first class of the morning. "Look who's back on her feet!"

"Well, I'm on one foot." You lift the edge of your skirt to reveal not just your normal brace, but a padded stocking to reduce any possible contact with your aches.

"Shit. Sorry to see that, L/N, do--"

"Do you want me to come in and help elevate it for you?" Midnight coos. Mic jabs her in the ribs with his elbow. "I'm quite talented at keeping legs in the air." He jabs her much harder.

You smile abashedly. "Thanks, but I'm fine for now."

"Let me know if that changes," she purrs, wiggling her eyebrows. 

Present Mic speaks over her, which isn't hard because he's predisposed to being a noisemaker. "Last day of the first week! Happy Saturday, right, right? So, L/N, some of the other faculty members are getting together for drinks tomorrow to celebrate surviving. You wanna come? It's nothing crazy, just beer and some cheap food at a restaurant uptown."

Other faculty members? You tap away at your computer work for a second, feigning it to be extremely important while you invent an excuse to be anywhere else. "I'm… not sure. I'll have to check my schedule."

"It's going to be at six, probably just a couple hours but you can head out any time. There's no way All Might will stay the whole time, after all."

All Might. No. You can't go. "I'll have to check my schedule," you reiterate sadly.

Mic nods along, waves to you, turns toward his class and responsibilities. "Cool! Let me know!"

While he departs, Midnight remains. Her eyes meet yours and, as you feared another woman might, she's read the subtext. "How about we get together for a girl's night sometime? You, me, Thirteen." She winks at you. "Boys can be a little too thick sometimes, right?"

"Sure. That sounds nice. I'll keep my eyes open for a decent day on the calendar."

She departs. You go back to scanning.

Another knock on the door. "Good morning, Cementoss."

"Good morning! How is your leg?"

In the brief moments before first period, you are visited by nearly all the teachers. It's nice at first, but quickly embarrassing. They fret over you, offer to spend time with you, and you can't figure out why. Do they feel guilty about your own misfortune? Do they want something? Do they want to know something? Are they trying to prank you, but you aren't getting it?

The bell rings, which means you should have a few minutes without interruption. You hum some old, unidentifiable tune rattling in the back of your brain. Beep, Beep. Rrrrrrrrr. Chu-chuh, chu-chuh. 

Knock, knock.

"Good morning," you chirp before you even see who it is. You aren't surprised to see Eraserhead lingering in your doorframe. He must have come to exchange the same vague pleasantries as his peers. 

"Hey." He looks tired. Moreso than the other times you've met him. He's slumped, heavy and aching within his own posture, holding his head low with eyes on the ground. "Do I need to fill out a form to get aspirin, or can you just hand it to me?"

"I'm the one who has to fill things out. You take a quick seat while I find everything in the computer."

He trudges in, takes the other rolling chair and sits next to the cots rather than on one. You click through all your program options, a little slow at it because, well, you haven't had to do this for a staff member before. It's always kids. Especially Midoriya. Hell, you're an expert in navigating the student files thanks to the frequency of your little hero's broken fingers. 

In the reflection of your screen, you see Eraserhead's body language change. Contort. What a familiar shade of green. 

You nudge your garbage pail toward him as you get up to shut the door, just in time for him to grab it and vomit violently. When you return to him, gloves on, ready to tie his hair back and take his temperature, he's spitting the taste into your trash. From the look and smell of things, he's only had juice to throw up. "I don't think aspirin is gonna do it for this, darling."

"It's just a migraine," he insists. And it probably is. Once you turn off the main light and blaring computer screen, the bulk of strain leaves his expression. Aizawa continues to clutch the garbage, however. "I've had worse."

"I'm sure you have. But the policy in this school is, if you throw up? You go home to sleep and recover. Or the hospital, I suppose, but…" This doesn't seem serious enough.

He shakes his head, which he regrets enough to clutch and then lose another few liquid ounces into the pail. "Not today."

His body doesn't care what day it is or what's scheduled, but before you have to argue that point, Recovery Girl returns. "What did I say?" she sighs. "It's always when you step away that something decides to happen. Hello Aizawa, dearie."

The casual nature of his wave, in spite of everything, suggests they've performed this song and dance before. 

"I bet you think you're clever for waiting to speak to my assistant instead of me. Well played, dear. You're still being sent home."

"No!" He hurts himself yelling. Perhaps imagined, perhaps genuine, you feel a kindred agony with this man. 

You blow some mist in his face, hoping to offset the smell of his stomach if nothing else, and rest your hand on his. "Why is this such a bad day to be sick?"

"Double Heroics," he grunts. "Two sessions in a row, one classroom, one outside. And All Might is supposed to take the second half." Aizawa glowers, searching to meet your gaze and avoid your boss's. "He's going to be late if he shows up at all."

Recovery Girl grumbles something, and then speaks up in a more pleasant tone than you think she intends. "Yes, what's the worst that can come of twenty unattended high school students?"

You were once an unattended high school student, and all one of you caused damages the school has probably still yet to find and repair. Yeah, you were talented. But maybe the 1-A students will be, too. Can't take that risk. "Okay. Can we compromise? I think you should be on school ground in case All Might doesn't show up, and you might feel a little better in an hour. Keep breathing my quirk, though. Perfect. But you still need a while to recover. Why don't I go to your class for the classroom portion of Heroics just to keep things orderly? Just as supervision?"

He doesn't like the plan, but he looks up and sees Chiyo giving him quite the glare, so he relents. "Problem," he says. "You don't know my lesson plan."

Plans are for chumps and you're an improv queen. "I can handle it." You leave him in Recovery Girl's capable hands and float to the Audio-Visual department as quickly as you can. 

Then, to 1-A. 

There is audible chaos inside. The last-minute exchange of homework answers. Squealing and shoving. You can hear one distinct voice calling out for order and silence and respect. Sounds like an Iida. And then, some crackling explosions. Eraserhead was right to worry about supervision. Deep breath, and then you slam the door open. 

They're so panicked to get into their chairs, you're genuinely worried a few of them hurt themselves. Their terror abates once they see you float in, smiling, waving. You wave especially to those who call you by name before taking the podium. Eraserhead has it set for his height, so you raise yourself in the air to compensate for the difference. "Good morning, future Heroes!"

"Good morning!" they chorus except for one especially sour blond kid who rolls his eyes. Good for him. 

"I recognize some of you, but I realize not all of you know me yet. My name is F/N L/N. I am a nurse here at U.A. and I work as Recovery Girl's assistant. Eraserhead had to step out for an emergency, so I will be acting as your substitute teacher. And I just want you to know, if you cross me, if you act unforgivably in my classroom, I will end you. I will have you abducted in your sleep, from your bed, and harvested for organs. I will send the ashes of your hair and skin to your families. Your mothers will weep. Are we understood?"

There is a profound silence. They are horrified. Except blondie, who has gone from leaning back in his chair to sitting on the edge of it.

"Excellent! And now, movie day!"

It's a rollercoaster of emotions in here. You roll the television in amidst whooping cheers and relieved, shaky laughter. You aren't sure if this is the same setup they had when you were a kid. You can't imagine. Wouldn't it just be dust by now? Regardless, the controls feel familiar in an "I can't believe I used to put up with this'' kind of way, and you manage to get all the wires and plugs in place before the applause dies. As everything boots and the disk-reader hums with effort, you wave the movie box in front of the class. "Who here has already seen Quasar Falls ?"

Almost all of them raise their hands.

"Excellent, excellent. Who has seen the original?"

Only about half as many hands.

"Okay. This is the remake, which I have not seen yet. However, I am extremely familiar with the original film." As the title menu pops up, the orchestral music swells into triumph. The actors that flash by in the dramatic preview are strangers to you, but their costumes are unmistakable. It really takes you back. But you cough into your fist and bring your attention temporarily away from the movie, going so far as to turn down the volume. "This is not a free day. You'll need to get out a piece of paper and something to write with."

The groaning. The disappointment. It is a rush of power to be able to jerk them around like this. You almost let yourself empathize with old Gran Torino. " Quasar Falls is a great movie, but it's famously riddled with violations of legal procedure and uses of excessive force by the Heroes shown on-screen. Being able to separate reality and fantasy is a skill that is essential for you to cultivate not just as a Hero, but as somebody who is living in an age of information and misinformation. Now, I understand not many adults want to foster a sense of critical thinking in you if it would make you critical of the system they venerate. That is, however, a discussion for Ethics in Heroism, which you won't be taking until at least second year, so I will digress. Are there any questions? Yes.”

Iida Tenya stands up tall and proud to ask his question. "Can you please leave the progress bar at the bottom of the screen so we can timestamp any violations we record?!"

The rest of the class hates this. They gripe. Somebody throws a pencil at him.

"Now, now. I admire the initiative, young man. Proper citations can be the difference between a ten-million-yen grant and an agency going under, after all."

The protest shrinks into general discomfort. The realities of the adult world, spoken so bluntly, can be jarring. You will get them used to it. They need access to adults who will speak to them with brutal honesty about any subject they dare approach. If you can't be forward about taxes, how are you going to be forward about discussions of puberty and sexual health?

"Now, I know we have a matter-synthesizer in this class. Miss Yaoyorozu? May I trouble you to make a timer to set on top of the television? It will be less of an obstruction to the view, I think, and should keep everyone on track just as well."

"Of course!" she says and scrambles to pull a clock out of… out of her chest. Hm. You hope it doesn't hurt. "Here."

"Thank you. Okay, again, I have not seen this remake yet. No spoilers or you'll be dead by dawn. Hit the lights."

2.

You have seen Quasar Falls in theaters every night since the midnight release. This is your fourteenth viewing, and your heart pounds just as fast as if it was your first. The main villain, Supermassive, plunges the screen into intimate blackness and holds his hands to the hologram of a dark and puppeted earth. You speak Supermassive's biggest line along with him, mimicking the lilt and drama. "I will have the world and become as God once Quasar falls."

Then, you peek at Toshinori and wonder what he's thinking. You love Quasar Falls. Toshi loves , loves Quasar Falls. He mouths the words silently beside you, and still shivers when he sees that Villain, and still lights up as bright as Quasar himself when the titular Hero hits the screen. 

Probably, Quasar is what he wants to be. A bright and shining example of righteousness feared by the one monster nobody else can defeat. A man beloved by his community and country. A beacon.

Personally, you think Lux is the star of the movie. 

Quasar orbits around his former sidekick for most of the movie, determined to protect a woman who no longer welcomes his protection. "Twin Star," he calls her, but she cuts him off to tell him, "It's Lux now." He nearly touches her shoulder and a literal spark flies between them. It hurts them both and they recoil. Cursed with quirks that conflict and repel, they can never truly be together. Not without destroying everything and themselves.

"You don't know what it's like to be a weak light in your night sky, Quasar. Everyone sees you for who and what you are. But you outshine the rest of us. Nobody wishes on a dim star," you whisper along with her. You lean on Toshi's shoulder and hear his reply echo through the bone.

"I never saw you as lesser," he insists.

"I'm not convinced you've ever seen me at all."

You and Toshinori chatter to each other during the transitions. It's a quiet whisper, but you're in the back and the theater isn't very busy tonight. "If he shoots light, and light pulses out of anything she touches, how come they're always having these conversations in the dark?"

"Because it's cool," you laugh. "And to show off when their quirks are acting up. The audience couldn't see it in the daytime."

"Yeah, but they kind of look like they don't know how light switches work."

You choke back a snort. "Maybe they don't. With quirks like that, why would they ever need light bulbs?"

The plot sweeps across its arc. Time flies when you're enjoying the heart pounding action of two former friends fighting a gang of villains hellbent on inking the sky to achieve ultimate power. But all good things come to an end. Supermassive witnesses the fallout between Quasar and Lux when he tries to save her once more, and she abandons him to salvage her wounded pride. Supermassive kidnaps her. And Quasar, far too valiant for his own good, falls into Supermassive's trap.

You know what's coming. You work your hand into Toshi's, which is already clenched around his seat handle.

You watch Quasar's murder along with Lux and share her grief. The fear of losing him is enough for her to break her bonds and strike the Villain away, but not enough to save the day. Supermassive escapes. Quasar is fallen and nothing more stands between the Villain and zombifying every person who falls beneath his cursed shade.

"All I ever wanted was to be worthy enough to stand at your side," Lux weeps with her hand hovering beside Quasar's lifeless face. "Today… Today I'll shine my brightest. I'll save this world you so love. And I'll be with you again soon."

The actress who plays Lux isn't crying half as hard as Toshi. In the theater darkness, you see his face twisted up in a vicious effort to hold back the tears already leaking down to stain his collar. Every time. You hand him a wad of napkins, which he brushes over his eyes as quickly as he can so he doesn't miss a moment.

Lux kisses Quasar, causing the explosion that blasts away the vile machine, the Villain, and everything that remains of the Heroes. News reporters and citizens and the Heroes who could not rise to this challenge stand on the shore and watch Supermassive's airship explode over the ocean. They see the endless, petroleum night recede beyond the horizon.

"Quasar is gone."

"But so is Supermassive. At last, we have a chance to live. To survive."

"To shine."

The credits begin to play over the final scene, which shows the unveiling of a memorial for Quasar and Lux. Named "Twin Stars'', their statues do what the two Heroes never could in life--they hold hands. 

Toshi is still bawling when you exit the theater.

"Dude, you know what's going to happen. We've seen this like a billion times now. They always die at the end and you always lose your cool."

"I can't help it," he says. "They come so, so close! It's almost unfair."

"I guess. I think it makes the ending better, personally. What was life going to be for Quasar and Lux if they lived? They would just continue keeping each other at arm's length, never really letting go or moving on, hurting each other. And she got what she wanted, so--"

"She didn't have to die for it!" He sniffs. You find him more napkins, but he wads them up and tosses them dramatically in the garbage, resorting to his sleeve instead. "I just know, if they made it, Quasar would do the right thing and turn their relationship back around! It isn't like he means to steal her credit, he just needs to try harder to make the world see her."

"Yeah, yeah. We're going to see it again tomorrow, right?"

"Of course we are! It's the last time it's going to be in theaters!" The crying starts anew. "It's going to be the last time I see them both alive until the physical release comes out!"

3.

The remake is faithful to the original so far. They even kept a few of the speeches fully intact. You get the joy of "when Quasar Falls" tumbling off your lips like poetry for the first time in years. 

There are changes, however. Some are very odd. Supermassive is no longer a big, imposing, mafia don. He is a skinny, Mark Zuckerburg-type. Internet mogul. Dark web criminal mastermind. And they stylized his name SPRMSV, which just looks silly to you.

Some changes are a pleasant surprise, however. Quasar gets more quiet screen time than the original. His current sidekick, never named or interacted with before, now shares an emotional scene with the Hero as he laments the severed connection between himself and Lux. "And I know I could reach her," he says, "if only I could touch her." He runs his fingers through the ghost of her, but longing alone cannot fix things.

And then things are the same. New, but the same. Pretty young faces, new choreography, updated settings. Supermassive gets his hands on all the parts he needs for his vile machine, and you peek at the class. They scribble, some of them furiously and some of them just one occasional mark. Others stare at the screen, caught up in the movie magic, forgetting their assignment. You check your watch. As feared, All Might is late to get them for their drill. But it's fine. Because you'd rather watch this anyway, and it would look very silly to hide around to watch the end of a movie when you ought to do real work. 

Something starts to change.

This time, Lux is not kidnapped as a plan to lure in Quasar. Rather, she finally becomes the one to rescue him, and in the process is helpless and ensnared. Quasar's scream as she's taken away? That's Oscar shit. That actor went for it. 

He fights his way to Supermassive's air base. And, wouldn't you know it, falls into that same fatal trap. Things are back on track, you see, as Lux strikes away their foe and drags her wounded body to Quasar's side.

"All I ever wanted was to stand at your side as an equal. I'm sorry, Quasar. Today I'll shine my brightest. I'll save this world you so love." She leans over to deliver the death kiss.

But Quasar wakes up. He speaks to her, his hand raised just shy of touching her, her own begging to be allowed to hold his fingers. "Do not lose heart, my Twin Star. This night cannot last forever. We… We will bring the dawn together."

It's Quasar that pulls Lux in. He kisses her.

Oh shit. You sit up.

The blast destroys everything, an inferno that sears through the villain and his base. From the civilian standpoint below the air base, the sight is overwhelming. Orange eating black, then golden-white light that outshines the sun. A child cries out, "Look!" And the oft-forgotten sidekick of Quasar flies out above the ocean to catch… to catch…

Lux and Quasar. Unconscious, tangled in each other's arms. Alive. 

"How can this be?" asks a background character. And you'd really like to know that yourself, so you pay close and critical attention.

"It's… it's a miracle. It's as if their quirks overloaded to destroy everything around them, but they were immune to the light itself."

Ok. Bullshit, but ok.

"Supermassive is gone. But after all the destruction he's caused, can we really pick up these pieces?"

"We have to."

It is as the movie reaches its last few minutes that you realize a disturbingly obvious detail, one that has been smacking you in the face, begging for attention for the entire remake. Quasar is All Might. Rather, this new iteration of Quasar is heavily inspired by All Might's career as a Hero. The speeches veer into celebrations of light and peace and unity where before there was only bittersweetness. It took years, more years than you care to admit. But Toshi got what he wanted. Quasar and Lux have a happy ending.

The credit sequence begins over a final, high-energy action scene between the two main characters. Lux and Quasar smile, exchanging blows and tearing up an unpopulated wasteland. Explosions of light burst off their skin at every contact, but they come back for more, and more, and more. Lux tackles her lover into a kiss, and the movie is truly, truly over.

You're still shaking while you pack up the television, careful to turn away from the class lest they see the stupid, sensitive expresion on your face. Who would have thought such a cheesy ending could replace one of the most celebrated tragedies of an era?

"All right!" You flick your paper, which is covered from top to bottom in tight, tiny script. "I found a total of seventy-four violations! What did everyone else get?"

"E… eight," confesses one boy. And his classmates, more or less, seem in the same boat. They look at one another, terrified of whatever grade they'll get for missing almost every point in their assignment. But the joke's on them. You're no teacher. You're not going to grade this shit. They're worried for nothing.

"That's all right, these things take a keen and critical eye to spot. Try again next time you watch this movie if you see it in your own time, but make sure to pay attention to--"

"I AM HERE TO PICK UP MY BELOVED STUDENTS FOR HEROICS DRILLS!" All Might crashes through the door in a cloud of confetti. You do not know where the confetti came from or why he has it.

His students cheer, "All Might!!" with genuine gusto, and he laughs in that deep, booming voice that echoes off your ribs. He pumps them up to attend what will surely be a very short drill session, all smiles, and thumbs-up, and high energy.

And then he sees you.

The surprise in his gaze escapes the notice of the students, who are rushing to get their costumes and tools, but not you. He expected Aizawa. 

You take a deep breath, a puff of your breath sinking to your waist as you float toward the Symbol of Peace. "Hi," you say, quietly, so as not to alert the students. 

His mouth opens and closes, but he says nothing.

You put your hand on his elbow. His skin is warm, almost feverish. Did he run all the way here, you wonder? "I'm staying late in my office. Will you have time to stop by? We should talk."

Oh the fear. The fear "we should talk" conjures in the eyes of a man. "I can do that," he says in a way that does not convince you.

"Thank you. It means a lot to me."

4.

Toshinori does everything he can to avoid being All Might after class. Two-thirds of his day are gone, leaving a scant hour left in his muscle form. At best.

No, he says punishingly to himself. He will make it as long as he has to. As long as this discussion will take. Nothing matters more than keeping his unprofessional feelings from devastating F/N's professional life. 

He avoids their rendezvous for as long as possible. A childish part of him wishes to arrive too late, well past the time she's gone home, and avoid this for a while longer. The rest of him is determined to do better than that. 

After sunset and his phone is dead, he slinks up the stairs of U.A.'s empty school building toward the nurses' office. He aims to get as close as possible without being noticed, find the best moment to slip in as All Might, and leave with an excuse when things get bad. They are going to be bad. He can feel it deep in what used to be his stomach.

Toshinori gets closer than expected. F/N is absorbed in computerized paperwork. She feeds individual papers through something, a fax machine perhaps? And as it processes she bops her head musically and mimics the digital sounds. "Beep, beep," she chirps. "Rrrrrrrrrgh. Chu-chuh, chu-chuh. Ding!"

His heart does the strangest flip.

All around her swirls a thin, glittering fog. Her quirk spills into the hallway without her notice, harmlessly swept away by fans and ventilation systems. Her smell is airy, like candy floss. F/N taps her papers together into a neat stack, then picks up another. She squints at an article, tilts her head. "What in the world is fork lung ?"

Now or never, Yagi Toshinori.

He armors himself, full musculature, full smile. But just as he gets inside, prepared to announce himself in that day-saving way, she turns to notice him. A tiny flinch, then she tucks the papers haphazardly into a folder and sits facing him. "You made it," she says.

He finds some of his nerve. "Here I am."

"I'm almost certain your catchphrase is supposed to be ‘I Am Here’." Age lent her serenity. Her voice, like her quirk, has amassed great strength. Her eyes are a spotlight and he is paralyzed on the dance floor. He should speak. He should do something more than be dazzled by a person he used to know better than himself. "Hello, Toshi."

"Hello, F/N." Her gesture for him to sit in the other chair breaks his trance. He shakes his head. "I'll stand, thanks. Have to be ready to answer the call of justice at any moment! You know how it is."

"I do," she confirms. She's… happy? He doesn't trust it. "I'm sorry if I spooked you in the classroom earlier today. I had to fill in for Aizawa unexpectedly."

"I heard. Is he feeling better?"

"Passed out in the storage closet on our spare blankets for a couple hours and woke up feeling fine. He finished the last couple hours, got some aspirin on his way out, and Mic took him home. And it's a good thing, too. I think Aizawa needed the rest more than he cares to admit."

He agrees. "We're lucky to have you looking out for us."

"Ah, now that's supposed to be my line, isn't it?" F/N fixes her hair as she speaks, a thoughtless action that takes up a great deal of Toshinori's mind. What would her hair feel like now? She used to wear it so much shorter. "All Might. Mister Always-Looking-Out-For-Everyone."

He laughs. It's so fake, but it fills the silence and it's better than anything else he had ready to go. "I do try."

"I'm sorry about the other day, on Ground Omega. I was horrible to you. It was cruel of me to speak like that in front of Eraserhead, and I know… You were trying to help." Always. He spies her ankle, a pillow layer taped around it, and cringes behind the smile. "I don't want you to think you're unwelcome in this office while I'm here. And I really, really don't want our… weirdness to make your job harder. You've got enough on your plate."

"I'm sorry I said Villain lives don't matter," he blurts.

She is stunned.

His mouth outpaces his brain, his aching heart in the driver's seat. "I wanted to take it back as soon as the fight was over, but I didn't turn around, and I never called you, and I thought I was going to see you in class the next day, and apologize at lunch. But when I got there, there was just your note, and I… I didn't want you to leave!" Oh fuck. Oh fuck, this feeling. He remembers that welling sensation, right behind the eyes, pressure beneath the chest.

But Yagi Toshinori hasn't cried in almost fifty years and he's not about to break that streak today. He powers through it, fist clenched tight while F/N stares at him in disbelief. "I was even going to find you after that, and make sure I apologized. But suddenly, I… I…" Lost Nana. Lost everything. "I had to go to America."

"Is… that why you've been so distant?" She rests her head in one hand, just for a second, as if taking the weight off her neck will make something process faster. "You've been avoiding me because of that dumb fight we had at the end of third year?"

He swallows.

"Toshi. I honestly don't even remember that fight. I mean, I remember going off on you about something petty, but… Didn't that happen from time to time? Once or twice a year, when all the exam stress amped up?"

"No. No, that one was different. Because it was the last time I ever… saw you."

She sighs. Her breath, mint and raspberry, comes out in a thick haze. She inhales it again, and her next breaths go back to their nearly-colorless natural state. "I could have sworn I was clear in my letter that my dropping out had nothing to do with you."

Over the years, the words warp in his memory. He isn't completely sure what she wrote. But he remembers how it hurt to read, how it stung worse than even the agony of his nemesis drilling through his core.

"Darling, my decision to leave U.A. was my own, and my family's, and it was… If it was about anything, it was about fear. I wasn't ready to be a Hero yet. I was far too young, and the world was…" She reaches into the wind for words that don't quite come. F/N shrugs. "More importantly, that was about three lifetimes ago for both of us. It's not something we should still be upset about, let alone dancing around. We're adults now. Hell, we're old."

She doesn't look old. She's pristine. But he nods along anyway because she's right, she's always right. This is such an old, faint grudge. She let it go. She let it go and he can let it go, too. He takes a deep breath, stealing most of the fog remaining in the room, and exhales. It's a weight off his chest. "Well. I do feel stupid now."

"Not as stupid as I do, surely."

He doesn't know what that means. 

"I mean, I've been dreading and avoiding being around you because I thought, for some reason, you might have a problem with my professional self, and--"

"No. God, no, F/N. You do great work."

"--and you've just been thinking about high school. I got all jittery for nothing. Honestly, Toshi, do you even know what the Jade Agency was?"

"The…?"

She nods, the patience flashing back to irritation, which she buries beneath tight lips. "I should have figured. You've got your eyes fixed on your target, and I'm a woman who overthinks about the way men under-think." She makes herself more comfortable in her chair and he feels, briefly, as if he might be grounded. Which is odd. Because he is sure Recovery Girl hasn't given her that authority yet. "Speaking of overthinking, can you put my mind at ease about something?"

"Of course! A Hero should do nothing less!"

"How are you?"

How foolish of him to forget. She is a Medical Hero. She is a surgeon with a scalpel. Her cuts are precise and he is helpless to defend himself on her operating table. "I'm fantastic," he says.

"How are you, really?" And this time she tilts her head over one shoulder. 

He swallows. Is this it? Is this where he has to come clean and eat his pride? "I'm getting older," he tries. "I guess they just don't make me like they used to."

She laughs. It's not a very good joke, so he figures she's humoring him. "Man, speaking of not like they used to , did you see they remade Quasar Falls ?"

"I… I didn't! When was that?"  

"Like four years ago, apparently. I watched it with the kids today while covering for Eraserhead. You should see it." She smiles at him. "I think you'll really like it."

Where would he find the time? Moreover, the will? He can barely sit through the original when it harkens back to a time when he still had a best friend, and a mentor, and a bright, healthy future. And like his own story, promises a tragic end. "I'll have to look into that! My, it does make me feel old to think about. We were first years, weren't we? When it came out?"

"First semester of the year. If we spent half as much time studying as we did watching that movie, we might have aced midterms instead of having to attend Torino's extra sessions."

"Oh, I don't know. I ended up doing like, three million college essays on Quasar so it was worthwhile in that way."

"Hah! I can't imagine what I would do if I got an essay from a student about Quasar Falls . Give them an automatic A ? Then put it on and cry?" She folds her hand over her heart. "Oh, but you should hear how badly they botched Lux's speech at the end of the remake. They cut half of it, and I know, because I remember every line of that movie."

"Every line?"

"Every single one. I can't remember the password to my Netflix, but I sure as hell remember Quasar."

He challenges that bold claim. "It can't be that we've come to this. Please, Twin Star!"

"It's Lux, now. Don't fool yourself, Quasar. I've never managed to be your twin anything."

Toshinori thought he only remembered the best lines, the iconic ones, but the longer they recite pieces back and forth, the more bubbles to his surface. He still remembers the inflections, the poses, the sound effects bouncing off tall dark walls, that popcorn and gum smell, and the weight of her head on his shoulder. Sure enough, even knowing it will break his spirit, he feels an urge to watch Quasar fall all over again. To feel that naive hope they might defy the script and find their happy ending.

And then he looks at the clock.

He launches to his feet. "Holy New Hampshire! Look at the time! I've got to get back out there and back to work!"

It doesn't surprise her, or else she's great at hiding how she feels about his sudden exit. "Be safe out there, Toshinori."

"Of course!"

And he zips through the door at unnecessary, breakneck super-speed.

He makes it all the way to his truck, an unassuming, plain model nobody would expect a Pro Hero to own, before his form dissolves. He is sore with effort, but expected to be far worse off. Toshinori rests his head on his steering wheel, checking the dash clock to be certain. An hour and twenty minutes. He talked with her twenty minutes longer than he ought even attempt to hold his body together.

Time flies when you're having fun.

Chapter Text

1.

"Drink up," says Cinder and passes one of her daiquiris to you. "You need it."

She's right, you think. You do need a third.

Cinder sits at your left at the bar, pestering the bartender, spending money on you like it's the end of the world. You aren't sure why. She knows your new job is paying well. "Honey, I want to try that top shelf stuff right there," she says to the barman and points at what might be any of the fancy, intricate glasses above. "One shot for me. And one shot for her. And one shot for--"

"No, ma'am, none for me." Fleece sits on your right, tapping at his phone, snapping pictures of both of you and himself only to be dissatisfied and delete them later. You know his standards. He has come out in a garish, pure white outfit you would think anyone else a fool to wear. Only somebody with a quirk like his could possibly maintain the color quality of an exotic wardrobe. "Just water and juice, remember? I've got to drive you whores home after this."

"Oh yeah," chuckles Cinder.

"Speaking of which, you haven't given me gas money yet."

"For real? Shit, here you go," she says and gives him gas money for the fourth time tonight. He pockets it shamelessly. Cinder claps for the delivery of her shot and peps you up to do it at the same time. "Come on, F/N hunnie! Spending too much time around those stick-in-the-mud Pro Heroes is gonna numb you up and turn you into a tool! Drink to feel! One, two, three!"

You do not need to drink to feel. In fact, you're getting numb and floaty. 

But hell, she's paying.

Fleece laughs, his phone hovering to catch every second of your drunken descent. Both of you come up gasping for air. Other people at this bar are probably giving you dirty looks, but you're so past any point of caring. This is fun. You need to have fun, right?

"So," says Cinder as she wisps over, her vaporous skin cutting through your foggy breath. "I heard a rumor. I heard a rumor that a really special guy is teaching at the school you're nursing at."

"Oh?" 

"Oh hoh?" echoes Fleece, putting his phone away at last. "So it is the same school? I can't imagine you in the same room as the Symbol himself. Like, are you going to murder him?"

"No!" you hiss. "Don't even joke about that! Holy shit, Fleece."

"Sorry-"

"Cut him a break, F/N hunnie! I mean, nicer people have done worse for lighter insults. If somebody destroyed my Daddy's legacy? Well, I, I… I'd do it for sure."

You give her a very serious look, but you're drunk and so is she, and she doesn't understand. She needs to understand. "Cinder, I know you don't see me like it, but I'm a Pro, too. I'm still a Hero. It's not fucking funny to joke about Hero murder. You know what they do if they catch an excuse."

Fleece pats your back to calm you down a little bit. He leaves his arm on your shoulder. You're at risk of floating off, you realize, so you knit your good leg around the leg of your stool to stay put. "Ok, ok. You've got better self-control than us, maybe. But it's true? You work with the Symbol now?"

"… Mm."

Cinder wiggles in her seat, dancing with excitement. Fleece isn't much better. It feels like having an angel and a devil, one on each shoulder, but you can't trust either of them. "I bet he's, like, so tall. Is this the first time you've had to deal with him in person?"

"Oh fuck no. We went to high school together."

"What?!"

"Yeah, I've been dealing with his bullshit since before I was even an adult."

"There is no way in heaven or hell you are that old," Cinder insists. "Lemme see. You gotta prove it."

So, begrudgingly, you find an ID in your wallet. The first to come up is your Hero card, so that's what you hand her, and that's what Fleece starts snapping pictures of. "Holy shit! You're an old woman! And you never told us?"

Why would you tell them? You roll your eyes. "Yeah because you share all your personal information. Speaking of. Your dad put you on a budget last year, didn't he?" You gesture broadly to the many drinks you've had, though the empty glasses are gone now. "Who is paying for this?"

She looks from one corner of the bar to another, slinks in, and whispers for you and Fleece only. "I got a new boyfriend."

"Oh lord," grumbles Fleece.

"Hey! Just because you can't hook a big fish don't mean you get to be pissy when I reel something in." 

"Yeah, but there's a lot more fish to catch in the hetero pond. Stick your hand in and you'll pull up a wad of disappointing straight dicks without having to try."

She snorts. "Ok, whatever. This isn't just any guy. He's fucking loaded . Also pretty secretive about this, uh, literal affair we are having."

"Cinder! You homewrecking slut!"

"Whatever, they're estranged, I don't give a fuck," she says and sips the daquiri you're sure she gave you earlier. "And he's got this dad bod thing going on that is out of this world. Like, does having kids make a man hotter, or what?"

"Ok ladies. Time to go," Fleece says in a tone that is deadly serious. You're caught off guard.

So is Cinder. She whines. "Why? He doesn't mind if I spend this money, he won't even notice."

"Not because of that. Look." He directs your attention to a crew of six people who have just entered. You don't know them, but you know the way they dress and the way they carry themselves. It makes your hair stand on end. "Those guys run with a trafficking group. I restored some art for a buyer they do odd jobs for, and I know it's the same crew. We need to leave. Just in case."

There are no arguments. You scramble to get yourself together and look natural, while holding onto both of your friends to guarantee you don't sail over a table or something. You squeeze your way outside and search the darkness for your path. You can't really make sense of it. You can't really read the street signs. But Fleece has you, and Cinder is holding your hand, and they know their way back to the car.

You remember parking far away. Cheaper. Or rather, safer. This is a neighborhood where wrecked windshields happen, and Fleece's new wheels aren't worth losing. But you save a lot of money not having to repair as often. So cheaper, yeah.

Your head is spinning. "You guys know I have to work tomorrow, right?"

"Aw. You don't wanna go to one more bar? There's karaoke!"

Mmm. Karaoke. "Maybe a couple more drinks," you reason.

Everything goes wrong.

There's police sirens. You, casually, try to move your friends to the far part of the sidewalk. But the car isn't trying to get around you, it's coming for you. Once your friends realize this, they panic.

They run.

"Hey!" The officer is exiting his car. He's pissed. And you know, you just know, he's seen Cinder's smoke.

You think about your friends, the consequences of them getting picked up on Villainy charges. Their careers. Their lives. At any cost, you need to protect them.

You fake a sneeze, blasting out a cloud of your thick, shimmering quirk fog. The cop coughs, swears, and comes for you. He entirely forgets your friends.

Perfect.

Until he slams you down on the sidewalk. Your jaw hits concrete. His handcuffs dig into your skin, his knee into your spine. "This is Officer Yukuda calling in a Villain apprehension on South Emperor Street!"

"Wait!" You cough. 

He yanks you up and your feet don't find the ground on their own. He slams you down again, warning you to stop using your quirk immediately. 

"I'm trying!" you beg. "Please! I'm a Pro Hero! I have clearance to use my quirk in public, please, you--"

You don't even remember how you got in the back of the car. You're shaking. Only when you sit still do you realize your ankle feels aflame. This is bad. This is so bad. "I'm a Pro," you insist, voice weaker now. "Please don't arrest me. I'm a Pro."

He already has your purse, he flips through your wallet, tears it apart a little, and throws the cards one at a time on your lap. "This is a waste of my time," he says finally, and tosses your purse in his driver's seat. The doors are open, the lights are on, the sirens are off. 

Cinder still has your Hero ID, you realize. And you never got your badge back from your secret patient.

This is bad.

"I swear," you say. "Look me up in the system! Right there, that's my driver's license!"

He picks it up again, squints at it, and loses even more patience. "This is fake. You are not fifty-five years old."

"I am! That's me, that's real!"

"Enough, Villain. You're going to jail. Arguing with me is making your case worse by the second, so get smart and give up."

"I'm not lying!" Your breath is spilling out on its own and you struggle to suck it back up before it becomes another violation, another reason for this man to mistreat you. "It's a healing quirk. I'm with the Medical Division. I… If you give me my phone, I can call somebody! I can prove it!" You continue to beg.

"One chance," he warns you. "One phone call." And instead of uncuffing you, he holds your screen in front of your face and makes you use your nose. It's no small task. You are dizzy, and dazed, and trying to see over your own breath.

And you have to figure out who to call.

You could lose your job over this, you realize. Being picked up for public quirk use is more than enough excuse to drop you from the faculty of the most prestigious school in the country. Most of your contacts are your colleagues. They already resent you for your sourness toward All Might. They can't risk their reputation to solve your stupid, drunken mistake. Who would even be awake? Recovery Girl? If she's not elbow-deep in an emergency surgery.

Oh fuck. Oh fuck, you realize. You are out of options. You can't think of anyone else. Why can't you think of anyone else?!

You press the contact you want with the tip of your nose, wait for it to dial through, and let the cop hold the receiver against your ear.

He picks up. "… Hello?"

"Toshi," you say, trying so hard not to sob. "I fucked up really bad."

"Are you all right?!"

"No…" Deep breath, F/N. If anyone can save you, it's him. "I was out drinking with my friends. I… I lost my ID and I used my quirk… Please, please tell him who I am so he'll let me go--" The officer takes your phone away before you can say anything else.

"This is Officer Yukuda. The woman I'm with claims to be a Pro Hero." He waits. "Uh-huh." He waits again, shaking his head, almost smiling. "Nice try, kid, doing an All Might impression to get your friend out of trouble. Nobody is falling for it."

He hangs up on Toshi.

You're fucked. 

You are frozen in the back seat, buckled in, almost bolted down. You can't keep track of the streets you pass. The siren hurts your ears. Are they going to believe you when you get to the station? Are they going to send you to Tartarus? Are you going to die? You know cops who take matters into their own hands, who kill Villains on sight. Is that gonna be you? 

You're never going to be in U.A. again. You're never going to see those kids again. You're never going to get to see Toshi again.

Even All Might couldn't save you this time.

It wouldn't be a first. You've been digging your own grave for years. How embarrassing for you to trip in over a mere night of drinking.

And then you start to look through the window separating you from the man hellbent on ruining your life right now. It wouldn't be so hard. You could get away.

No. He's seen your face. You're on his dashcam. You would have to destroy everything. It wouldn't be as simple as escape.

You're fucked.

Radio chatter. Officer Yukuda gets very angry with somebody or something, but your head is spinning and the only coherent thought in your head is "You are fucked." The car pulls over. Are you here already? You close your eyes and wait for it to somehow, magically, be over. Yukuda gets out of the patrol car.

There are more lights. Backup? You feel sick. Puking in the back of this car is unlikely to help your case. Your ankle hurts. Your back hurts. It's cold.

"You have to be fucking kidding me!" you hear Yukuda scream. "This is bullshit!"

A different man opens your door, this one out of uniform but wearing his badge on a line around his neck. "F/N L/N? Anodyne?"

You nod stiffly. He has a different tone than the other guy, but a cop is a cop. If he's playing the nice guy right now, it might be because he knows his colleague has softened you up with his bastardry. 

"I'm Detective Naomasa Tsukauchi. I'm here to take you home."

2.

The half hour between F/N's phone call and Naomasa calling him back is the longest of Toshinori's life. He hates this helpless feeling. If he were able to be All Might, he could go in person, like a flash, and set things right. But he can't. He can't even force himself into the persona again today unless… Well, unless he wants to try to die. That's what it feels like. It's torture.

The waiting might be worse.

Mercifully, his phone rings. "Did you find her?"

"It's all taken care of. I just dropped Miss L/N off at her apartment. I gave her my number, too, in case this doesn't blow over on its own."

He sinks into the seat of his truck, clutching his phone with both hands. Thank god. "Thanks, Tsukauchi. I can't express how much I appreciate this."

"Yeah, well… I can't go poking around in ordinary arrests all the time just because All Might knows somebody, you know?"

"No, of course. I wouldn't want to put you in that position."

"In this case, though, I'm glad I did. The officer who picked her up was way out of line, especially for such a minor issue. She sneezed out a cloud and floated, and I guess it was enough to scare him."

Toshi clutches his sleeve, finding anything to wring out his frustration. F/N's distress never fails to pierce him to the core. Saps him of his already feeble strength.

"I took a look at her record while I was sorting things out. She's got a long history of dropped public quirk use charges."

"It's not her fault. Hers isn't the kind of quirk that can just be turned off. She actually has to work really hard to appear normal."

Tsukauchi is thinking it over. He and Toshi butt heads over a few political matters, just as a natural extension of their careers. But he's seen enough at this point to understand not all Villainy charges are created equal. "Makes sense. I should have figured you would know about that if you were worried enough to get me involved. You two are close, Toshi?"

"We used to be, yeah."

"So you know about the report she filed a few months ago?"

Report? No. His confused silence is answer enough for Tsukauchi, who fills in some blanks.

"She was assaulted outside her apartment building. Same address I just dropped her at. It doesn't look like any arrests were made, and no agencies took it even though she filed to send it to the Hero Council for review."

That can't be. "What happened?"

"The report is pretty sloppy, but it looks like somebody tried to strangle her. The guy gave up and ran away when a witness showed up claiming to have already called for help. Some middle school kid named Midoriya Izuku."

He almost throws up. The blood curdles in his intestines. "I, uh…" He swallows some air, tries to clear his lung. A Hero should handle news like this better, he berates himself. "Thanks, Tsukauchi. I might look into it on my end. You, uh… You get some sleep, okay?"

"You, too."

Toshinori tries to drive but his mind is running a gauntlet. Why would Izuku keep this from him? That's not the kid's style. He checks his clock. It's not just dark, but actually late. He lost track of time, having to bail so suddenly on drinks with his U.A. coworkers to respond to F/N's arrest. Wasn't it just six?

He knows better than to bother people in the night, especially students, who need their sleep and their family time. But it's not going to end. He will not know peace until he has some answers, and all of them are one call away. He calls Izuku.

The boy picks up on the first ring. "All Might?!"

"Hey, hey, keep it down, kid."

"Sorry."

"I didn't wake you up, did I?"

"No, I was working on, um… homework stuff. Is everything okay? Are there Villains or something?"

Always ready and willing to help, no matter the danger. That's his successor. "Nothing like that. Actually, I need to ask you some questions. The kind that needs to stay between you and me, as a secret."

"O-oh? Okay…"

"How did you meet F/N L/N?" He closes his eyes, tries to remember that first day on the beach where she showed up to speak with him. She didn't even know his name, then. But she called him her "hero" Toshi realizes. "Did something happen?"

"…"

"Young Midoriya?"

"Yeah." He clears his throat. "Sorry. I met her a few weeks before I met you, All Might. Actually, it's the reason I submitted an application to U.A., in spite of my quirk… Because I wanted to help keep that from ever happening again."

"Midoriya?"

"We used to get off at the same bus stop. She wears a Pro Hero pin around, so I wanted to ask, but I also didn't ever want to bother her. I noticed her go home alone a few times. And then, one night… somebody followed her."

Shit. 

Shit .

This was before they met. Before he had a quirk. Before he could even do a real push up. The thought of F/N and young, helpless Izuku, facing sinister forces in the dark stirs the worst in All Might.

"I was worried. I just kept thinking, if somebody who acted like that was behind my mom, what would I do? What could she do? I kind of convinced myself it was nothing, and I would just make sure she got home, and I would leave. But he… He had piano wire, or something, and… He put it around her neck."

It's cold in his heart. In his guts. "Did you get a look at the guy?"

"No. It was dark, and I wasn't very close, and I… I was scared he would kill her. I screamed that Pros were on the way, but I… I hadn't called anyone yet. I couldn't think of anything else. But it worked."

Little puzzle pieces click into place. The letter of recommendation. The gloves.

F/N is alive because of a quirkless young fool.

Toshinori didn't think he could feel any more gratitude for Midoriya Izuku, but the kid has a way of surprising.

"All Might? Is everything all right? Nurse L/N isn't in danger or something, is she?"

"No. I was just following up on something. Hey, kid?"

"Yeah?" He waits, and Toshinori realizes how confusing this must be for him. Such a random, horrible thing to be reminded of on a day when he should be able to relax. "All Might?"

"Nothing. I just wanted to thank you for looking out for her."

"It's what Heroes do, right?"

3.

Toshi knocks on the roof access door, which is already open, before peeking through. There she is. He takes a deep, unsteady breath, then creeps closer, closer, closer. He sits next to F/N, not sure she's noticed him. He's never seen her cry like this before. Not even after Torino let her fly away during gym class. "You okay?" he tries.

She curls up tighter.

The sun is starting to set. According to the weather report, it will be a clear, warm night. But she's shivering. He removes his jacket and drapes it around F/N's shoulders. "You shouldn't listen to Dansa. He has no idea who you are."

"But he's right!" she bawls. "He's right and I hate him! I hate all of them!"

"No you don't."

"Yes I do," she weeps, but the claim is weak now. She doesn't hate her classmates. She just can't get along with them.

Quiet again. The wind blows through Toshi's hair and he realizes how long it's getting. Longer than F/N's, at least in the front. He listens to the waves of her sorrow, finds she's nowhere near done, and so reaches into his pocket to offer a packet of tissues. "You want these back? I think you need them more today."

"Why do I even want to be a Hero?"

"Huh?" It startles him, her distress a sudden chill down his back. "Because you want to help people, remember?"

She shoves him. "That isn't even what Heroes do! All they ever do is pose for cereal boxes, and deliver meaningless press speeches, and fucking kill people!" Her sadness evolves into anger, but the tears fall just as stubbornly. 

"That's not true."

"What the fuck would you know?! People get murdered every month in my neighborhood, and the only time Heroes ever show up is when they're the ones doing it to us! Of course I look like 'poor, Villain trash' to Dansa! That's how he sees everyone who can't afford to rub elbows with his shitty, narcissist parents!"

He couldn't understand earlier why she got so upset at Kazan Dansa's comment. He thinks harder now. About how Dansa is a legacy student. About how he's going to be a fourth generation Hero, and how most of his friends are also Heros' kids. A lot of their class is. A lot of them have money.

It never occurred to him that F/N doesn't, because neither does he. Not really. And while the claim that Heroes are killing people is more than he can swallow, F/N is upset enough already. It's not an issue to press.

"My mom doesn't want me to be a Hero," she says at last, the worst of the sobs subsiding. "We fight about it. A lot. She says, all Heroes end up being bastards and abandoning the people who need them most. It's why you never see them when the slums are flooding with sewage, or there are Villains rampaging in 'lost-case neighborhoods'. They care how they look, and how they're paid. People like Dansa grow up to be Heroes that only save those who they like or who can be useful to them, and fuck everybody else."

"We won't be like that," he promises her. And he reaches his arm around to hug her. And he runs his fingers through her hair to ease the crying that starts anew. He's always wanted somebody to play with his hair while he's sad. "You and me? We're going to be Heroes who help everyone. We made that promise right here, didn't we?" He shakes her shoulder until she looks up at him. Her face is a puffy, red mess. "Everyone."

She's fine for a second, but then her face twists up and her nose runs. Toshi mops her face up with the tissues.

"And don't listen to Dansa. He's just mad because he's a dim star, and we're both quasar-bright."

Chapter Text

1.

He has time and strength to spare this morning. He feels electric, ready to race the tradewinds over the ocean. He might not have slept well, but the determination to pull through a crisis is All Might's coffee. And dammit, this is a crisis.

An hour before school, he thunders into the U.A. main building, announces himself with booming laughter, and slaps the doorframe on his way into the nursing office. "I AM HERE! To check on my second-favorite Medical Hero in the whole world!!"

And there she is, in the chair, at the computer, and she's ok. She's ok. She's ok. "Now, I do wonder what you mean by that," she teases. For the first time in a long time, he can tell F/N is happy to see him and it adds fuel to his fire. 

"Oh? Is Recovery Girl not around?"

"It's my first day flying solo." She folds her hands over her lap, but it's a ruse to move her skirt over her leg brace. Still wearing the extra padding. 

"In that case, I'm here to visit my favorite Medical Hero!" He hopes he's charming her. He hopes she's not going to be angry with him about the conversation that's coming. "But don't tell Recovery Girl, or she might let me die one of these days!"

They share a laugh. A shallow one. Things are on the road, but all the wheels aren't turning at the right speed and angle. There are still years between them. Baby steps. "You're not scheduled to come in today for any classes. Are you sure you aren't here to see Chiyo?"

"I'm sure. How are you? Rough night?"

She pauses with her mouth open, looking down and away, searching for the right words. He hates to put her on the spot like this, but he only has so much time to operate and the quick, cruel method is all he can afford. "Honestly? Or would you like the school-appropriate version?"

He closes the door. It's just them, now. "Honestly."

"I was terrified." Some of that fear remains as bags under her eyes. She's gotten good with makeup. Subtler. But nothing can disguise the expressions he used to know so well. "I can't believe I… I don't think you know how much of a miracle it was for me that you picked up that phone. And then when he hung up… Toshi, I thought I was going to die."

Was it that bad? Tsukauchi mentioned the officer being too forceful. "I would never abandon you."

"… Thank you."

She looks like an ordinary citizen to him. Not a Hero. And while the work she does is dangerous in its own way, it should not come with violent attempts on her life. In the wake of being harmed, F/N seems so much smaller and younger and more vulnerable. She's his high school better-half all over again. "But you're all right?"

"Yes. The worst was the disorientation, not knowing where I was or what was happening. I just haven't been that scared in a long time, I think."

"Is ten months a long time?"

Her sincere, relieved tone shifts. She is perplexed. And then, simply irritated. "Your detective friend passes police files to you?"

"No."

"I hope you both understand how illegal that is."

"No, F/N. I spoke to Midoriya about the incident."

At that, she is more perplexed. All Might knows, just from the way she tilts her head the other way, he's made a misstep. He's lost too many board games and hanafuda matches to that deadly insight. "Why, exactly, are you discussing faculty members with the students? And when would you have had time to do this?" She clicks her tongue. "Did you approach this child outside of school?"

"F/N, this is serious. I need you to be direct with me instead of playing this avoidance game."

She chuckles, but it's not with humor. Whatever she finds funny, he does not follow. She takes a deep breath. He gives her every minute she needs. He has time. He will make time. "If you already talked to both of them, I'm not sure what else there is for me to say. I was on my way home from a hospital call, I noticed I was being pursued but wasn't careful enough, and I… survived, thankfully."

"But nobody caught him," he presses. "Nobody even tried. That doesn't bother you?"

"Why would you assume I'm not bothered? I'm not happy to know there's somebody out there who can get away with choking women in the night."

"You just walk by that same spot every night? You just go home, after that?"

"I live there, so yes."

"Why wouldn't you…?"

"Why wouldn't I…? What?"

Why wouldn't you tell me about this? But he doesn't say it. It's foolish. Why would she--when only days ago she couldn't trust him enough to be in the same room--confess her worst nightmares? "You should consider re-filing your report to the Council. Now that you're a U.A. staff member, and now that Tsukauchi has seen it, it might get traction. An agency will look into things."

"I will take that under consideration." But she won't. That's a dismissive statement. Those quick, lying lips.

She insists on making this difficult. But he's moved mountains. He can handle this. "If you don't have time, I can file it through my agency."

"I want you to stay out of this."

He can tell. But he can't be certain why. "Hero society is built like this to help you, F/N. This will take care of the problem."

"The problem has already been taken care of. There have been no repeat incidents. The neighborhood watch comes by and does an excellent job, every night."

"Neighborhood watch? F/N, that's not a solution! That's a wall!" He tries to illustrate things for her, but her expression grows colder by the second. "There's still a villain out there who meant you serious harm and might try again, and you're satisfied to entrust your safety to civilian neighbors?"

"I do not recall," she articulates sharply, "the man attacking me using a quirk."

She's frustrating him. On purpose. She must be. "Does that really matter? What about everything else I'm trying to tell you? Do you understand?"

"Well, Toshi, I'm not sure I do. Because it sure seems like you're suggesting I levy my privilege as a Hero to label a regular criminal as a Villain for my own benefit. Which, beyond being illegal, would be disgusting." Her breath has that spicy edge to it, tickles his nose. This is no time to sneeze or cough up blood. He keeps himself together. "Is that what you want me to do?"

No. Yes. Maybe. It's so much more complicated than that. She knows. "I want you to be safe."

"I am safe. I promise you. The matter is as resolved as it needs to be."

That might be good enough for F/N, but it isn't enough for Toshinori.

"I want you to let this go," she tells him. "This isn't the kind of case that's better off getting the Might Office seal. It will mean Heroes and investigators invading my privacy. It will mean more cops, and Toshi, I have had my fill of cops. That said, let me reiterate that I am sorry I called you last night."

"It was my--"

"Because if I knew it would turn into you abusing your connections to pry into my life, then coercing information from a child so you could lecture me, I would have just let them take me to jail."

"Fucking… Fucking dammit, F/N! I am trying to help you!"

"You're not succeeding."

Oh no. No, this is happening again. This is his big, dumb mouth ruining their friendship all over again. This is what he was so worried would happen when he talked to her a couple days ago.

Why couldn't this go smoothly? Why couldn't they go back to quoting Quasar ? And laughing? And enjoying each other's presence even a little?

"I think it would be wise for you to leave," she says. She turns to the computer and denies any further eye contact. "You aren't teaching today. It will make both of us look bad if you're found in my office, with us screaming at one another, especially without any excuses."

It was going to be a good day. It would have been such a good day, but things had to go rotten. He leaves without saying anything else and is regrettably rough on the door. Her cinnamon scent lingers in his nose and hair until he launches himself from the lawn and into the atmosphere. Then she's gone, scoured from him by the wind. 

She doesn't understand, he convinces himself. She doesn't understand how vulnerable she is because she doesn't know how little time the world has left to be at peace. He can't tell her, can't stand the idea of showing her how far he's fallen. But he can do what's in her best interest.

As All Might, he can sweep neighborhoods near hers. Make himself known. The more Villains he takes out in that area, the less Villains will dare lurk nearby. And maybe they'll think twice before they attack the citizens he keeps a special watch over.

2.

You digitize angrily, though your emotions don't have any effect on scanning. No matter how much you want to wring All Might's beefy neck, no matter how your foamy fog spills over as you mutter curses and hexes, it's the same beep beep, rrrrrrrrgh, chu-chuh, chu-chuh.

Does he ever listen to himself speak? Can he hear the tyrant waiting to happen? Does he have, anywhere in the unlit recesses of his mind, any clue how bad of a role model he can be? The audacity of that man, ignorantly destroying your life time after time, only to insist he can help by doing more harm. Maybe your friends are right to worry about how much time you're spending around Heroes. You never want that mentality to drive you. You never want to be above the law again.

You ruminate on your rage for a long time, looping back around to the same old sore spots, biting open your stitches for no good reason. He isn't even here to lash out at. You can only possibly hurt yourself. Whether you manage some frail triumph from this bloodletting or not, you are eventually startled back to reality and called to do your job.

"Nurse L/N?" Midoriya peeps his head around the corner.

Oh dear. You suck up your mist, aware this angry scent isn't for everyone. "Another broken finger, darling?"

"N-no, not today, actually. Come on in, she's really nice, I swear."

"But it's… embarrassing!" says a girl hiding behind Midoriya's back. He manages to coax Ochako Uraraka into your office. "Hel-- *hic* hello."

"Uraraka has hiccups."

"Yes, I can hear that," you say and pat the cot. Time to start a treatment log. 

"I *hic* know it's not really a doctor thing. But I *hic* I've had this since yesterday. It's starting to hur- *hic* hurt."

"Oh darling, it's a perfectly fine thing to come to me for. If you're feeling discomfort, I'm here to help." You finish clicking away everything you need in the computer, confirming her quirk isn't something to be cautious about during treatment. "Take some deep breaths. Letting my quirk cycle through your lungs a few times should do the trick."

She nods, pleasant and determined, and sits hiccuping in your office for another ten minutes before you wonder if your breath isn't working. It's colorful, glittery, smells ok. But her little outbursts continue. "Hm. These are stubborn indeed."

"Y- *hic* yeah."

"Lets try a higher dosage. I'm going to blow in your face, and I want you to hold your breath as long as you can. Ready?"

She nods and holds Izuku's hand as she's blinded by one of your thick clouds. "The mint is nice," he remarks, enjoying a lungful himself. Might as well. He's breathed more of your air in the last week than some of your long-term patients do during the duration of their care. "Is it working, Uraraka?"

Her cheeks puff out like a little hamster, and she scrunches her face up in absolute determination to hold her breath. She hits her limit. She gasps.

You wait.

"*Hic*."

"Huh." You scratch your chin. "I've honestly never had to deal with a medical case of hiccups, and certainly none like this. But maybe we're overthinking this. Have you tried all the other methods? Being frightened, for instance?"

"I tried but I *hic* can't scare my *hic* self."

Midoriya folds his arms, joining you in the think tank. "Have you tried drinking water?"

"Yeah. *Hic*. Some."

"Well, let's try it again." You go to the storage room and reach sneakily around the corner into the mini fridge you smuggled in. The school board is welcome to kill you, but they will not be taking your fridge. You've got snacks, ice packs, juice, and even some candy in there. For the kids. Obviously. "Have a drink, darling."

She gives it her best shot. "*Hic*."

"I've heard if you put a pencil in your mouth, and drink water around it, that will work. Here, use one of my pencils."

"*Hic*."

"Maybe try gargling?"

"*Hic*."

"Okay, but this time, drink really fast. As fast as you can."

That doesn't work, either, and you have to sit down to think about this. Midoriya invites himself to your other office chair and pats his friend on the back reassuringly. 

You get another knock on your office door. It's Tenya Iida. "Hello, darling. Are you not feeling well?"

"I am in perfect health!" he blurts. "Merely here to do my duty as class rep and check on the condition of a fellow student." Uraraka and Midoriya wave to him, so you invite him inside. He hears right away that there has been no success. If anything, the hiccups sound stronger. "Do not lose heart, Miss Uraraka! These hiccups cannot last forever."

"They *hic* can't?"

"No," says Izuku. "Because eventually you'll die."

She laughs and kicks him, and you wait in apprehensive silence with the boys. Did that work? Did laughing work?

"*Hic*."

Dammit.

Iida joins your think tank, circling up, scratching his chin. "I have heard that pulling your tongue can be an effective way of getting rid of hiccups."

She doesn't seem convinced, but tries anyway. "Like thith?" she says with her thumb and forefinger pinching down on her tongue. 

"Yes! Is it working?"

"Well, *hic* if the goal wath to make me feel thtupid, then *hic* yeth."

This might be more serious than you thought. The tools available to you may not be enough. Swallowing sugar, perhaps, would work. You've heard of that. Or was it syrup? Milk? "I'm going to go see if I can find something to help us clear that up for you, darling. Boys, will you wait here with Miss Uraraka? I shouldn't be too long. And by all means, keep trying things."

"Can do, Miss L/N."

In your quest for sugar, you find no sugar. Rather, you end up in the Support department looking for Power Loader. The Support students are in general classes at this hour, and you're not overly surprised to find the mechanized Hero working alone on some sparky workshop repair. You knock on the frame of the door to alert him of your presence. "Nurse L/N! This is quite the surprise. What brings you down to my lair?"

"Want of keys, actually. Lunch Rush has already left for the day, and I'm afraid I might need peanut butter for an odd little medical issue. Or sugar. Honey, maybe? A-anyway. Could I trouble you to unlock the kitchen for me?"

"Ah, my role as keymaster comes into play at last," he chuckles. "I'd be happy to. Just let me finish a few tweaks so I don't forget my place when I return to this project."

"By all means." It isn't as if this is life threatening. And maybe you'll get lucky. Maybe the boys will have her taken care of by the time you return. 

He welds together some unwieldy piece of equipment. You cannot guess its function. And you do not envy the mess he puts up with. This workshop is filled with half-finished, half-functional student projects. There's oil and batteries everywhere. A lot more duct tape than you would expect from those inventing tools for Pro Heroes. "You know, I actually suspected you'd come down here to search for your old Hero Course equipment."

"Oh? That never occured to me. I didn't think that was something the school would keep for so long."

"We don't get a lot of healing-type quirks. Your things are a great example of a rare, high-demand project. I've been using it as a teaching tool for years without ever realizing the apparatus belonged to you. Small world, huh?"

"No kidding!" You're glad something good came of your U.A. education, even if not in a manner you expected. "I don't suppose there's any chance you could get it in working order again for me to use in the office? It's awfully old, I suppose. And I wouldn't want to take away something better put to use here."

"Hm…" He nudges his visor up, takes a brief break from welding, and points to a book on a podium by the door. "If you're interested, I could make this into an excellent teaching opportunity. You can put in a work request, just like the kind they'll see from real agencies. I can't promise a speedy delivery, but it will work as good as new. Or it will be new. I suppose it depends on what the students decide, hm?"

How exciting! You fill out a request form, not expecting anything will come of it, but happy to provide an opportunity for U.A.'s budding youngsters. Shortly after you finish, Power Loader peels himself from his work to let you dash into the kitchen. You grab everything you think might help, write a hasty apology to Lunch Rush for disturbing his orderly pantry, and hurry back to Uraraka in your office.

When you get there, she is floating, being spun in circles by Midoriya and Iida. She holds her hands tight over her mouth to prevent any possible vomit from spewing out. Her hiccups continue. "Let's try these," you say, and lay out spoons and foods.

Honey? No.

Sugar? No.

Peanut Butter?

"… *Hic*."

The bell rings as you switch to your desperation move. You shake your hand and give her a cold, wet jar of pickles. "Drink it," you tell her.

"Are *hic* you sure?!"

"It's not going to hurt you. Some singers do it for their throats, I think," says Midoriya. His words do little to reduce her disgust. 

She downs a whole gulp. Her face twists up. She waits. You wait.

It's quiet.

Maybe?

"*Hic*."

As you're starting to consider phoning Recovery Girl for advice, you hear a gruff, unimpressed voice from the hall, looking in. "Are you really still doing that?" Bakugou Katsuki invites himself into your office. But why not? It's a whole round-table conference of sham doctors now. "You've got to be a real idiot to not know how to get rid of hiccups."

Uraraka huffs, both of her friends rising to her defense. "Well, what would you know about getting rid of hiccups anyway?"

He reaches into his backpack. He pulls out an extra tall can of energy drink. He slams it down on the tray in front of Uraraka. "You need to burp."

"H- *hic* huh?!"

"Burp, dammit! Chug this as fast as you can, and just as you think you're about to hiccup, belch! It works every time. Don't you idiots know anything?"

The other teenagers look at you for confirmation, but all you can do is shrug. It's no worse a suggestion than any you've come up with. 

So, hesitant, she cracks open the can. Uraraka lifts it toward her lips. Deep breath. Then, head all the way back, downs all of it in five seconds. Horrifying! Where did this gremlin learn how to chug like a college frat boy?!

She gasps for air and puts the can down. Her eyes wrench shut. She purses her lips. You all wait, fists balled, listening, hoping.

Her belch blasts the papers off your desk.

It echoes out of your office, out into the hallway, up and down the stairwell.

It smells like pure chemical waste.

A few seconds after it's over, as you're all staring at this tiny, feminine, gastric freak of nature, you hear whooping. Teenagers cheering throughout the school. They are amazed.

They have every right to be. That was harrowing.

"S-sorry," she says. "Whooh. That was a good one, huh?"

"Your hiccups!" Iida claps, celebrating. You fear he's too early, but the seconds tick away and she keeps everything in control. 

Evidently, you will need to keep a can of energy drink in that mini fridge. For emergencies, of course.

3.

"So, your mom doesn't want you to be a Hero." Toshi tosses her the tennis ball. He has to be gentle with F/N. It seems like, whenever he puts any real effort into his throws, he hurts her hands. His quirk is getting stronger. "What about your dad?"

"Don't have one," she says and tosses it back.

"Never have?"

"Nah, he used to be around." It goes back and forth a few times as she explains. She bounces it on the ground for her own entertainment, then throws a tricky shot, way to the left of where he was expecting her to aim. No problem. He catches it anyway, just a bit of extra reaching. "He's American. A soldier at the base in Jaku City. He met my mom when he went out partying, but they fell in love and he ended up going AWOL to be with her."

He almost misses that one. "Seriously!?"

"Yeah. But like she says, you gotta be wary of guys like that. If they're willing to abandon their country, they're willing to abandon their wives." She jumps and floats to catch a throw a little above her head. "Anyway, he took off when I was still little. I don't remember much about him, but my mom sure does, and she loves to hold a grudge."

"What do you think you'd do if you ever met him?"

"Ignore him, I guess. If he wanted anything to do with me, he'd have stuck around. I don't have time to jump through hoops for people who will never be impressed with me."

He bounces the ball on the court, watches it sail way overhead, out of sight. The second bounce is also beyond view. The third, he snatches. And then he passes it back to F/N. "Seems like a good policy."

"What about you? You don't really talk about your family."

"I don't really have one to talk about." He smiles, awkward. He's getting good at this mask. If it was anyone but F/N, he might come across as perfectly comfortable. "No parents anymore. It was, um… Villains. But I don't…"

"Oh, Toshi. I'm sorry."

"It's fine. I don't remember much. These days, it's mostly my mentor who checks on me. I guess I kind of think of her like a parent."

"Neat. She sounds rad. It's gotta be nice to have an adult in your life who doesn't suck complete ass."

It is. It's wonderful. "You might have an awesome mentor of your own pretty soon."

"What makes you say that?"

"Are you joking? The Medic Camp! You're signing up to go, aren't you?"

She doesn't catch the ball. It sails across the field, leaving Toshi to chase after it. By the time he gets back, F/N has her hands deep down in her pockets. She shrugs. "I don't know if it's something I'm cut out for."

It's absolutely something she's cut out for. She can be a great Hero. This can be her ticket. "Everyone in a Hero school with any kind of healing quirk is invited, right? It's a summer camp, and you'd get in without having to pay anything. Plus, you'd get to learn from Recovery Girl! Maybe even really meet her!"

Another shrug. "It's a competition. Everyone going is trying to earn her attention and get an internship with her. And, like, I don't blame them. She's been the most in-demand Hero for every agency in the country for three years now, but she stays freelance. She's mercenary, I respect the hell out of her. But like… I'm just me. I'm not going to earn that spot."

"What?! You totally could! And even if you don't, you'll learn things."

"Yeah, maybe. But…" She shifts from foot to foot. She walks ahead of him. "But it's two whole weeks."

"So?"

"So I won't get to see you for two whole weeks."

Oof. What is this feeling? This arrow through his chest? It's not the agony of a promised absence, but the overwhelming, undue honor of knowing she feels this way. Knowing she will miss him. 

But he didn't come to U.A. and aim to be a Hero so he could hold others back. Especially not F/N. He catches up with her, gives her a thumbs-up. "I'll have a hard time without you, too, but I still think you should do this. You've got to think like a Hero. And you need to believe in yourself as much as I believe in you."

F/N rolls her eyes, but she's happy. She's got her shy spots, her insecurities. But she's not the "villain waiting to happen" Kazan Dansa claims she is. She's a good person. She's a future Hero. She's his best friend.

And he hopes to see her become so much more. 

4.

There are more Villains in this area than he expected.

There are less minutes on his internal clock than he counted on.

There are little pains.

And huge ones.

Chapter Text

1.

"Darling, at this rate I will need a ‘ blank days since I've un-broken Midoriya's bones ’ chart. And it will never get past one day."

"I'm sorry."

"I don't want you to be sorry. I want you to be more careful."

He pouts, shame weighing on his already tense shoulders. His hand doesn't shake as badly this time, which either means he's becoming accustomed to the frequent injuries, or his nerves are starting to mend imperfectly. Recovery Girl is not a miracle worker and neither are you. "We just had the same conversation before you came in, dear," says your mentor at her desk. She writes his treatment record by hand, on paper. This boy is becoming a real tree-killer.

He's been lectured already, sure, but you want to make your own point. You have him sit in your chair instead of on the bed and you roll up your skirt. Today, you wear your normal brace without extra protection. "I was not very old when I got this. Twenty-four, if I remember correctly. The damage was severe, but the bones were reassembled, everything moves, I can put weight on it. But darling, I can hardly run. Without floating, I'd be tormented with jumping. Stairs? I've re-broken this old thing on many an unexpected step."

Midoriya's jaw is tense, examining it. It doesn't look bad. It looks like a minor inconvenience. But that is a deception for pride's sake.

"When you break, and re-break, and re-break something, pieces can't always fit back together correctly. You think it's fine to take this damage now because you see it as a mitigated cost to using your quirk, don't you? Better than the whole arm, better than both legs?"

"Y...yeah."

"But you aren't calculating for the long-term damage. At this rate, you'll be in your thirties and have arthritis. It will be a great deal harder to be a Hero and save people in need if you are distracted by your own pain, or completely disabled by it."

Both he and Recovery Girl give you a long, disturbing look. They glance at one another. "Did I say something wrong?" you ask. "I'm not trying to be ominous! I just want you to have a healthy, fulfilling life. Chronic pain is… What?"

His voice shrinks. "It's nothing." 

You must have done something wrong. You plan to ask Chiyo after the kid goes back to class, and in the meantime fetch an ice pack for the boy while his bones knit. Your quirk does not provide instant results. He needs to stay put for a while and keep breathing, and even then he might be sore when he goes back to class. A half-hour, perhaps. No high dose fumes, not even for this kid who must be getting used to the process. You could accidentally knock him out, and injuries like this aren't reason enough to miss class. Especially for Midoriya. He would be sent home almost every day at a school without on-staff Medical Heroes. 

"Mister Aizawa!" Midoriya startles. You hear from inside the storage room. "Sorry I broke my--"

"I need to borrow Recovery Girl." 

That sounds bad. You emerge to find the old woman already shuffling after the downer Hero. "I'll be back soon." But you know that tone. She's not planning a swift return. 

You wonder what that could possibly be about, left alone with Midoriya, when he peeps, "Do you think it's about All Might?"

Why would he think that? "I hope not," you murmur. But his suggestion stings you with its insight. This could be nothing. This could be nothing. 

This could be bad.

You sit with Izuku, holding his hand on the ice pack, pressing his fingers every so often to check how they bend. "… Don't be in such a hurry to master your quirk," you tell him. Something to distract both of you. He looks as worried as you feel. "Strength-based abilities tend to bloom late and they never sprout evenly. One arm will get big before the other, one leg will have growing pains and the other will seem fine. Soon enough, you'll be overshooting and running headlong into fences, and it will be your nose I find myself repairing every morning."

His lip wobbles. "I don't have that kind of time. I need to catch up to everybody else in my class."

"You can't choose how fast you go through puberty, darling. Waiting is required for growth. Patience. And maybe if you stop being so hard on yourself, you'll have an easier time figuring out how to progress. I do not mean to offend, darling, but you have every sign and symptom of being an over-thinker."

"I guess." He sighs. Midoriya knows the routine and turns his hand around for you to check the palm. "Wasn't All Might already way ahead of me at his age?"

"Hm…" Not a chance. But that can't be what he's really asking. "I don't think that's a very fair way of measuring your progress. You aren't All Might, after all. You're you. A totally different Hero with an equally dazzling smile." In spite of your attempt, he doesn't manage a grin. Guilt. This boy holds on to anxiety like a sponge. You puff a little extra breath in his direction.

"He, um… He mentioned you might help me with my Villain Studies presentation."

"Oh?"

"He mentioned… you used to help him with his."

"… Did he?" Time for the ice pack to come off. You warm his fingers on your wrist, pinching and bending as you go. "I suppose it's not really a secret that I went to school here at the same time All Might was a student. I'm a little surprised he'd tell you, though."

A lot surprised. Toshinori seems to have some special interest invested in Midoriya. Talks to him outside of school. Gives him advice on courses he doesn't teach. Gossips about the faculty. You like Izuku very much. You think he's an excellent person, will make a grand Hero. But you don't want to see him become All Might's tool to spy on you or others. Because of course his biggest fan would do anything for his idol. 

Either way, you can't pretend this is still hidden. He knows you knew the man All Might used to be. He will have questions, like any Mighty Superfan. "Do you really want to know what he was like at your age, darling?"

"More than anything." He trembles. He swallows, perhaps preparing to hear how far behind he is. 

You sigh a deep, blue vapor as you recall the image of your gangly, goofy best friend. "He was an uncoordinated mess. After summer vacation, he pulled himself together a bit. But oh… I remember one of our first drills, where his job was to pick up practice dummies and deliver them to me, because I was at the emergency service checkpoint. I was the checkpoint. And the Medic. Well, he tripped, dropped one dummy on another, and it broke in half. There was sand everywhere, but especially in his mouth, since he managed to dive head-first into the whole mess. If you think Aizawa can be mad, you ought to have heard the way our crotchety old teacher laid into him about his 'double manslaughter'."

A few hours later, you were stuck on the classroom ceiling and he was crying in the hallway outside.

You used to be so young.

Midoriya perks up from your story, likely astonished his role model could be so relatably inept. "Really?"

"I swear on my mother's grave. Take it from me--you are on pace. If you want to do something really impressive and go beyond where he was at your age, you could focus on your grades and try to ace Villain Studies. That's a Plus Ultra goal."

"I will. And I'll try to overcome my shortcomings until my body can catch up with my quirk."

That's your young hero. "Now, a little extra tip since you asked for Villain Studies help. You can use your student ID to access the Public Safety Commission's digital archives. If it's related to studying Heroism, you're allowed full access to stored footage and audio, articles, reports. Even if you don't find something new, it will look impressive to your teachers to have those sources and demonstrate you know how to put them together competently."

He nods, logging your advice. Hopefully he puts it to good use. 

There is a murmuring ire approaching from the hall. Recovery Girl is on her way back, so you make sure to tie the conversation off. "And darling? While it's not a secret I went to school with All Might per se, I would appreciate it if you didn't spread that around too much. At U.A., I need to be able to do my job. That's not possible if I'm being pestered with questions about somebody else's personal life all day. Understand?"

"Of course!"

Recovery Girl looms in the office entry, both hands on her cane. Her face is set. She looks a bit at Izuku, then entirely at you. A cold spark creeps up your back. "If Midoriya is feeling better, it's time he returns to class."

He collects his bookbag in a rush. You stuff the ice pack into his still shaking little hand. You weren't quite done. He'll be fine, but a few more minutes might have been better. Recovery Girl ignores your querent gesture and watches Izuku go. The boy stops to speak with her. "Is All Might okay?" he asks.

"He is a fool," she says, "who is dying of his own pride."

You freeze. Ice shards through the chest. "Chiyo!" Not in front of a child. No matter how bad it is, not in front of Midoriya.

She ignores you and speaks a final time, pointing for Midoriya to return to his classroom. "Pay attention to your lessons, child. Go on." It's nothing to alleviate his concerns. If anything, that will eat at the boy. You wait for him to leave, but it's a thin net keeping you from lashing out at Recovery Girl. She beats you to the punch. "I thought you intended to be brutally honest with these children, F/N."

"We can't traumatize them, though! If Izuku didn't already think something might be wrong with All Might, he certainly does now."

She shakes her head. She says nothing until the rage washes up, over and away. "I cannot abide by the darkness he's keeping you in anymore. He had his chance to come clean on his own terms and squandered it." She goes to her desk and opens a drawer. Within it, a briefcase with a numbered passlock. "I remember you being a quick reader, F/N. Is that still the case?"

"I… I would like to think so."

"Good. Take this and read it on your way to the Teacher's Lounge. And when you get there, see if you can keep All Might alive."

2.

You plug your phone into the socket and curl tight against the wall with your jacket as a tent to dim the screen light. It's getting old, not holding its charge very well. It seems to die even when you leave it off. But you can't afford a new one, so it needs to do for a while longer. 

It boots. The jingle is too loud, so you smother it against your chest and hope it didn't wake anyone. You peek up from cover to be sure.

Empty. Quiet. 

The cabins don't have electricity, but there are plugs all over the practice building to accommodate medical equipment. You aren't allowed to be up at this hour, in the pitch black, creeping around. You especially aren't allowed to be on your phone, of all things. 

Back in your tent, you open your messages and see if you have any new texts.

Nothing from Mom.

Seven from Toshi.

-Hey, F/N! hope ur having fun at cmap

-camp

-Im still here at Torinos mercy. WIsh I could b there 2 see recovery girl instead

-Did you get to see her yet????

-Anyway cant wait 4 u to cme back. bought a copy of QUASAR!!! MOVIE NIGHT!!

-Hey F/N you probly cnt check ur phone, it's ok. Still hope ur ok, having lots of fun. Tell me all about it when you get back.

-Three days. Miss you. Torino sux. hope ur ok.

More than anything, you wish you could call him and hear his big, dumb laugh. That would make everything better. It always does. But it's past midnight, and if some silent screen time doesn't get you caught and in trouble, a loud, giggly phone call will for sure. You flip the plastic keyboard out and compose a huge block of text as fast as you can. 

-My dearest Toshi. It has been three days since I departed U.A. for the unforgiving, Medical frontier. We have lost seven girls to wolf attacks and thirteen others to dysentery. The days are long and the nights are longer, all of which are filled with toil. Like Sisyphus, I am damned to Hell. J/k. Recovery Girl is amazing, just as pretty as she looks on TV, way more savage. Pretty sure I saw her get a doctor fired for malpractice or something at the hospital we helped. Working on real people is scary. I like it. Trying to talk to the other kids is also scary but I don't like it at all. I think I might be the youngest here? Shortest for sure. I don't know if I can keep up with them but I'm trying my best. However much you miss me, I miss you more. I think I regret going to this camp. Wish I was there with you watching Quasar.

Send.

You hold your phone until the bottom corner displays a delivery time. Hopefully he sees it. Hopefully he reads it super, super fast. Fast enough that you can actually talk instead of wishing.

There are eleven other students at the camp with you. None of them have any interest in being friendly. They're driven, eyes focused on the job, looking to impress and show off. There's a guy with defibrillator arms who might win the internship. Or maybe the kid with the sewing quirk who does the perfect stitches. Or the girl with x-ray vision. 

Maybe Toshi is already asleep.

You can't stay out much longer. The other girls assume you're using a bathroom. You type out one more message.

-Thinking about coming home early. Would you hate me if I pretended to get really sick or something to bail on this?

Before you have a chance to send, the door of one of the camp offices opens. Somebody walks out and stops right in front of you, surely able to see through your feeble attempt at hiding. Looks like you won't need to feign illness. You're going to get kicked out.

You lower your jacket and shamefully stare up at Recovery Girl. "… Hi…" you whimper.

"L/N? You're up awfully late, kid. You need all of your sleep to keep up with tomorrow's schedule." Even out of uniform, she's beautiful. Who wouldn't want a healing kiss from somebody so adorable and charming? And on that note, who would want a healing cough in their face? The other campers have even taken to calling you Halitosis Girl. You really, really hope that one doesn't follow you back to U.A.. 

"What's wrong? Are you okay?"

You try to answer. You're caught. You lower your jacket and reveal the phone she already knew you were hiding. "I've never spent the night away from home before," you try. You aren't lying, but this homesickness isn't for a bedroom or a parent. "Fourteen days without my mom feels like… kind of a lot."

"Having a hard time adjusting?" You can't imagine why she would care. She's one of the top Heroes in the country, in the world. And you're a whiny child, breaking the rules right in front of her. "You can't cut it as a Hero if you're inflexible."

"… Yeah." This is it. She's going to send you home. But it's fine. It's just the humiliation of being dismissed from an exclusive, nationally-ranked camp because you broke curfew to text a boy. It's just the end of your professional life.

Instead, she hands you a piece of candy from her pocket, winks, and says, "I get homesick, too. It will be our little secret." She leaves, probably to go to bed, leaving you sitting stunned and stupid in her wake.

When you grow up, you want to be her.

You look again at your phone and decide to delete the last text before you finish and send it. You send an alternative message to Toshi, then unplug your phone and scurry back to the cabins under cover of night.

-I don't know if I can do this, but I'm gonna try to stick it out a couple more days. Sleep tight. I'll be back in town, stealing your popcorn during Quasar before you know it.

3.

Gastrectomy. Pneumonectomy. No kidney on the left side to save. Debris removal.

Losing weight. Erratic blood sugar recordings.

Missed an appointment. Missed two. Missed ten. 

Your head spins. You float as you read, shuffling papers, trying to make sense of a labyrinth. How can this be? You've seen him. You've seen him, with your own eyes, but you can't align that image with your data. If he lost that much mass, it would be plain to see. When they said dying, you assumed cancer. You assumed some quiet illness, a creeping condition. This is an atomic bomb. If you were handed this file without context, you would expect to find a bloody splat in the room and no remaining semblance of a patient. 

You slow down as you reach the teacher's lounge. Your hand finds the door, but your courage lags behind.

"--Not like this." His voice. Ragged. Dry. But his, unmistakably.

The other voice in the room belongs to Nedzu. "It's her job. This is what we brought her here to do, after all."

"Can't you stall her? Give me a moment to… to try to make this look any better than it is?"

"Hm." Nedzu, his tone more chipper than expected, pads across the floor. Before he can open the door and discover your eavesdropping, you knock. A few quick taps. Inside, a fit of pained, wet coughs. 

Nedzu slides out, the door never opening far enough for you to peek inside. You look down at him. You should say something respectful to your boss, but everything is a jumble in your mind. What are you about to walk into?

"Recovery Girl has him fairly stable, but if she exhausts him any more it could kill him outright. Your quirk is less demanding on the body, so it does seem wise to send you in. No more putting it off, I'm afraid."

"How bad is it?"

"You'll see for yourself soon enough."

You go in alone.

Denial. The man in the teacher's lounge is not All Might. He is a tall, pale, skeleton in oversized cosplay. He lays across the sofa, one hand clutched over his side, the other thrown in a haphazard mess over his eyes as a makeshift blindfold. His suit is bloody all down the front, and you bet from the stains on his hands and mouth that every drop is his. The room smells of copper and sweat until your fog blankets the ground. You hover, seated but upon no surface, at the side of this strange, visceral creature.

Anger. It is him. These are not new wounds, you realize as you spy the extensive scarring beneath his lifted button-up shirt. He kept this from you. Did he keep it from the other faculty members? Not Nedzu. Not Recovery Girl. Hell, not Aizawa since he was the one to summon Chiyo to begin with. It was just you. You were the one he went out of the way to exclude, even though you are here expressly for his benefit.

A big man. A powerhouse. A demigod. A living legend. All Might, fearless Hero who fights back the dark and smiles through everything.

He's not smiling now. He's cowering from you.

This isn't what you wanted.

You don't want him to be as afraid of you as you are of him.

Without disturbing him or trying to make demands, you blow in his face. You track the mist going in, coming back out. Those are shallow, quick little breaths. Not enough to really heal him. Not unless you increase your concentration.

You have to say something. He's already gotten an earful from Recovery Girl and Nedzu, maybe from the other Heroes. You have no clue what you would say anyway. You aren't mad now. Just… settling into reality.

"Do you want a pillow?"

He shakes his head, a rigid motion partially hidden behind his hand.

"You sure? Might make it easier to breathe."

A nod this time. So we have 'yes' and 'no' communication. It's enough to get things started.

You let your mist linger in the room instead of sucking it up again. You will be here for a while, whether he starts breathing deeper or not. Get comfortable. It's easier to conjure this fog if you talk, and you're babbling for two. "You know, I was just having the strangest conversation with young Izuku Midoriya. He asked me for some Villain Studies advice. It took me way back, thinking about how many nights we spent stressing over oral reports. It seems trivial now. I wish I spent less time studying and more playing video games."

He grimaces. In a dry wheeze, Toshinori says, "You turned into a real slacker by third year."

You laugh. You make yourself believe it's funny, even though it's meant to cut. "And I turned into a real asshole by the time I dropped out. I was so angry at life, the only color I could see was red. I wanted to fight with anyone, just to give myself a distraction from how much pain I was in."

"… You never told me."

"I was afraid to."

He spreads his fingers to peek at you. There are those beautiful, blue eyes. But oh, how the color has dulled and the light settles sallow. You remember when he was skinny, but that slender boyishness is unlike the gaunt figure he has become. It's still unreal. Yesterday, he looked okay. Is he that good at disguising his condition? How?

"Seems silly, doesn't it? I used to be able to tell you anything. I told you about those dumb shark nightmares. And when I needed to vent about work-study? You were always a phone call away, if that. My god. Do you remember when I broke my nose, and I was afraid to go to my job because I would have to tell Recovery Girl how it happened?"

"No." He covers his face again. His breathing is slightly improved, but his voice is weaker. Tired, probably. Chiyo's quirk is draining. After a moment, he sniffs. His grimace shifts. "Wait. Was that the day I hit you in the face with a tennis ball?"

"No, that was the lie you let me tell her. It was the day I hit myself in the face with a tennis ball." You take a tissue and dab at the mess on his collar. "I think I bled twice this much. Ruined a whole uniform."

He's shivering. There should be something better for him to wear than a wet, dirty shirt. This is one more reason to stock spare clothes in the nursing storage room. You should have brought a blanket.

"To this day, you are the only other person who knows how hard I bounced that sucker off my skull. We could talk about every bad grade, every bully's insult, every horror that woke me in the night."

"What changed? What did I do wrong?"

"Nothing. My mom died."

The hand comes off. He sits up, regrets it, and lays back against his elbow. It's clearly uncomfortable, so you take a cushion from the other couch and put it under him in spite of his earlier dismissal. "Why… Why wo…" He coughs hard into his fist, which is bad at first. It's wet. But he inhales hard and he picks up a grand mass of your fresh breath in the process. Some relief. 

"I thought about telling you, but there were other things happening. Finals, work-study, agency offers, crisis calls. I had boxes upon boxes of offers from different companies trying to merchandise me. I was seventeen, and they were sending me proofs for risque statuettes of myself. They wanted to put me on air fresheners. It made me feel gross, and before I knew it, every time I heard 'Anodyne' I was thinking about throwing myself off the roof of the school. I wanted to help people, not sell myself." Even now, you can only share half of the truth. Half of your life. It's nothing new, but it breaks your heart to know the person you were once closest to can never really understand what you were or who you've become. "And you? You won the Sports Festival two years in a row. You had the looks, the grades, the personality, the raw physical power. And you had other friends."

"So did you."

"No, Toshi. I actually didn't. I tagged along with you a couple times, I tried my best, and when you made plans without me I lied and made up a group of buddies of my own so I wouldn't have to admit I was in my room, playing Harvest Valley."

"You mean to tell me there was never a 'Mimi' or a 'Suki' hanging out with you?"

"That's what I named my in-game chickens."

Your distraction is working, but it comes at the price of airing dirty laundry. It's setting a good example, you tell yourself. You need him to be honest about his health and his pain. "I would have picked hanging out with you over every single one of those parties if you just told me that's what you wanted."

"Oh, honey. It was more than that. I'd been in high school for three years, but I still only managed to make one friend, you know? I couldn't network. I couldn't figure out how to connect with the people who were going to be my equals forever. And then I gave up and convinced myself I didn't even want to. I was so fucking tired. I just wanted to lie down forever. You know?"

"About being tired? Yes."

"Depression is rough."

"… Yeah."

"Is it fine for me to ask what happened?" You gesture to him, broadly. You aren't sure where to begin. "Or do you want to talk about something else?"

He stops looking at you, instead staring into your mist as it curls and coils against the wall. "Recovery Girl didn't tell you? You didn't read it with my charts?"

"No, but I'd rather hear it from you anyway."

"About seven--going on eight--years ago, I had a bad fight."

Seven years. Jade Cannon is rolling in their grave, their spirit roiling within you, lamenting for a safety net that could have been. But when you vote against seatbelts, and you don't use your damn brakes, you're fated to eventually crash through the front windshield. "I can't imagine just anybody going through you."

"That's because it wasn't just anybody. It was… one of the worst."

You know the worst.

You suspect.

But you can't be certain.

And you can't ask, because then he would start to unravel the threads leading to your landfill of dirty laundry. 

"I lost most of myself that day and in the surgeries since. It could have been worse. I can still tough it out and suck in my gut, appear as All Might for a few hours every day. About three. Or, it was. I got sloppy and took some heavy blows, here, directly to the weak side. I didn't have the time or sense to go get help right away."

Oh no. "This was yesterday? When I was the only one working here?" Would he have gotten help if it had been Recovery Girl in the office?

"Yes. I managed to transform this morning, but barely. I could hardly hold it for ten minutes. And by the time I got here, everything just fell apart. And if--" He stops himself, swallowing hard. More deep breaths. "If I can't manage to shift again, it's all over. The world isn't ready to lose the Symbol of Peace yet."

So that's where he's at right now. You nod, puzzling things out. "What do you feel is holding you back from being able to transform?"

"The strain. It's hard to hold, like clenching down with everything I have and not being allowed to stop or everything falls apart. And even when I do manage, it's not how I used to be. I'm not even half as strong as I was, F/N. Not even a tenth." It's both hands over the face again. He's shaking again. You hope your fog isn't making him colder. "It feels like I'm trying to keep a fire going through a storm, but I've been out of fuel for ages and I'm waiting for a light that never comes. All I have to block the wind is myself. This self. This pathetic, feeble shell. No matter how hard I try, I'm not going to make it to the dawn."

"So you've talked to doctors about this. You have an estimate on how much time you have left?"

"This year or the next."

Fuck.

Fuck.

Fuck.

What can you say? You've worked with terminal before. But this is All Might.

More importantly, this is Toshi.

Nobody is ready to let him go.

You settle on, "How are you handling that?" He doesn't respond. "Do you have your estate in order? Do you have plans for what happens after?"

"I started. But I think I started too late."

"Are you okay with the arrangements you've made?"

"I don't… I'm…" Back to displays of yes and no, he shakes his head.

"Or are you just not ready to think about it yet?"

A head shake means nothing this time, but he's still listening to you. 

"Can I make an observation?"

Yes.

"You're trying to juggle chronic pain, physical mutilation, depression, and two different lines of work. You are emotionally and mentally exhausted, which is something I expect of any Hero who has seen too much time in the field and too little in counseling. This isn't a sustainable lifestyle."

"It has to be!" He swallows. "I have to. I have to keep it together, or millions of people are going to die."

"Do you have to be in pain to save them?"

"I don't have any other options."

"You do."

"I'm not retiring!!" 

You hush him a few times, shaking your head, renewing the vapor cloud by his face. "That isn't what I meant. I was going to suggest we start picking up all the pieces we have to work with. According to these charts, and Recovery Girl's notes, you haven't managed to keep up with all your appointments and medications. Do you want some help with that?"

"No, F/N. It's not worth trying. Nothing helps, sometimes it makes things worse. I just… I just have to put up with this a while longer."

You reach over to adjust the angle of the pillow, which eases his head into a good position for rest. "What if I make an easy-to-follow system for you? It will help you keep track of when to eat, when to take your pills."

"I don't need help remembering medicine. I need medicine that works without laying me out. And for the kind of pain I'm in, what gets prescribed… I'd rather be in agony than bedridden."

"At this rate, you'll be both." His poor hair. It's been healthy and shiny for so long, but now it is dry and brittle. "Are you dead-set on going down with this ship?"

At this, there is some spark. Some fire left within him. "Yes," he growls. He will not go gentle into the night.

"Then let me do repairs as you're sinking. You don't want to fold too early and leave these people in peril. You want every minute you can get, and you want to spend them where it counts. Let's keep All Might around as long as possible."

"Let's work absurdly hard just to fail miserably. Let's waste our energy."

"Hm. I was thinking, you let this old slacker do the absurdly hard work while you reap the benefits. And darling, I can't fail. I can only buy you time."

He doesn't say anything after that, even with prompting. You spend another five minutes filling his lungs with medium-strength healing breath and fogging the room to last as long as he remains inside. He falls asleep with his arms crossed over his face, and you drape his yellow suit jacket over him for warmth and to obscure the blood.

Then, you slip out of the teacher's lounge, go to the roof, and cry.

Chapter Text

1.

In your dream, you are on your way home from working at a hospital in Musutafu. The bus has no lights and you have to use your phone to light the way. Something must be wrong with your screen. You can't read anything on it. At first, that seems normal to you. Of course the lights might be broken, remarks your sleeping brain. Of course you would end up on the last bus home during a blackout.

You hear the Might Agency jingle from your phone, which is not connected to a call. There is somebody else on the bus with you, and the same tune plays from his phone. Midoriya stares at his screen and seems to have no problem reading. He smiles, calm, probably sleepy. There are splints on his fingers.

The bus stops. You get off, but the boy doesn't, so you call to him from the bottom step. "Midoriya, darling, this is where you get off! Midoriya, is this your stop?!"

He hums the song, oblivious to your call.

"Izuku!"

"You need to go." You know the bus driver, but you aren't sure from where. Not from this line of work. "Go home," he says and shuts the door. 

No choice, then. You need your phone light to get home. Something is wrong with the street lamps and the apartments are dim. Is it the power grid? It's a clear night. Where are the stars? Where is the moon?

You're nearly to the corner when you hear the bus door open again. Midoriya must have finally gotten himself together, you think, and meander back to see if he's gotten his face out of his phone.

That's not Midoriya.

A shadow. A behemoth in black and red, teeth bared.

You need to go home.

You hurry along on your feet, wary of any possible floating. You haven't done anything wrong, you remind yourself. He has no reason to come for you. You haven't done anything wrong in a long time. 

There's more sound coming from your phone. You raise it, trying to light your way while listening to a conversation that seems one-way. " Do you have visual on the target ?"

" Negative ," comes an even more garbled reply. " The haze is too thick. Seeking permission for lethal protocols ."

" Not yet ." 

Is this some accidental call? Is this police chatter? You bring it to your lips and ask, "Hello?"

"I know who you are. You couldn't hide from all of us, not forever. You can't hide from him."

You look ahead. Between you and your apartment stands All Might, his Bronze Age costume stretched over a form that seems too hulking to be contained. He crouches, ready to jump. At you.

"Seeking permission--"

" The Villain is right in front of you! Do it now!"

He's here to kill you.

You wake in a tangle of blankets and sheets, clinging to your pillow, gasping for air. The clock reads 4:03 and your phone, still on the charger, confirms. Three hours of sleep. 

It will have to be enough. 

You turn all of your lights on to get dressed and packed for work. There's time to make a run to the convenience store, pick up some essentials and some supplies for the coming few days, before you drown your weary mind in old paperwork. 

2.

"Mister Aizawa, sir?"

He grunts, looks up from his sleeping bag and his juice. "There's another ten minutes before class starts, kid. Can't this wait?"

"U-um, I guess it can. Sorry."

"Forget it, I'm already awake. Just say what you came out here to say and get it over with."

He takes a deep breath to steady his nerves. Nobody else is listening in, so if this is rejected and his grades tank, at least nobody else will know for a while. "I've been working on that Villain Studies presentation, but I ended up going down kind of a rabbit hole. I, um, I picked the Laughing Reaper as my project."

"Mhm." He raises a juice pouch, hidden in the folds of the sleeping bag, to his lips. "So you should narrow your report to focus on body searches and device removal protocols."

"A-actually, I wanted to expand my report to include the other two Reapers. They're supposedly studied as a lineage at the college level, and I happened upon some interesting details and theories while searching for information. It's coming together okay, but I don't think I can get it done by tomorrow. And… and I was wondering if I could get an extension?"

He grumbles and mutters something to himself while Midoriya dies inside. It was asking too much. Aizawa never shows mercy. He should just give up and narrow things down, cut most of the report and try to salvage something. Oh man. Oh no. 

"Fine, but you're presenting on Monday. I expect this to be worth the delay, too. I won't be as lenient with your work as the rest of the class's, so make sure to cut down on grammar mistakes and make it look professional."

"Yes sir! Thank you, sir!" He scurries into the classroom with his heart still hammering. Every assignment feels like life or death on the Heroics track. He wants to go melt into his seat, but Bakugou and Kirishima are playing some kind of hand-slapping game, and the last thing he needs is to be in range of an explosive backhand. He stands with Iida and Uraraka while waiting for the rest of his classmates to file in and the roughhousing to abate. "He said yes."

"Good for you, Deku!" Uraraka slaps his arm, careful of her fingertips. "I told you Mister Aizawa was nicer than he pretends to be."

Iida shakes his head, chops the issue up with his gestures. "Having an extension is no reason to take things easy! Make sure to be diligent and use your time to make a sound argument, or you may end up with the worst grade in class."

Midoriya tries to laugh it off. "I'm not too concerned about that. I really believe it's coming together fine, but I tried to cram everything in last night and ended up passing out on my keyboard at two in the morning."

"Aww, Izuku…"

"I just kept finding more I wanted to add. It got out of hand, maybe. B-but I've got this!"

"Yowch!!"

Kirishima exclaims, "Shit, dude! I'm so sorry!"

"Watch where you're waving those things!" Bakugou yells back. He holds his shoulder. The sleeve is sliced and bloody. "Fucking dammit! I just ironed this jacket!"

3.

You are interrupted from the unending digitization process by Power Loader and one of his students. "Good mor-" you begin.

"Prepare to be dazzled and delighted!" says his student, a girl with pink hair and complex eyes. "If you weren't already seated, I'd tell you to sit down, because this is gonna pull the rug right out from under you, Nurse Lady!"

There is no rug under you, and that's not your name, but okay. You smile along and nod, glancing at Power Loader. Even without most of his face visible, you can tell he wants this experience to end. 

"Ta-da!!" she says, and presents you with a sturdy rucksack. "Introducing the Anodyne Medibag, Mark Two! Now, I know you were thinking about getting that old model back up here and working, but lady, you're in for a treat because I've tweaked and improved essentially every aspect of your equipment."

She looks awfully young to make such a bold claim, but you doubt Power Loader would bring her up here without a good reason. Or maybe he wanted her checked for a concussion? She is a bit erratic. "Oh?" you ask and turn it in your hands. It's sturdy, fitted with some internal shell that leaves a natural shape but a secure storage space. There are an awful lot of pockets here, and they seem filled. "Would you give me the grand tour, darling?"

"I thought you'd never ask! Because nobody ever asks, and I insist on doing this anyway. Bam! Right here, here, here, and here I installed hookups for your respirators. No more being stuck giving direct care to one patient at a time, you can daisy-chain these fuckers in an emergency!"

"Hatsume, language."

"Whoop-- Sorry, I got a little excited there. Working on that. Gotta get market-friendly." She opens the main flap. It's not as empty as you thought. In fact, every piece of equipment is secured in a fitted slot. "In this big pocket, we have your masks for others and the big one, the one that goes over your face! It also pulls over, so you can wear it while the rest is secured on your back and you're on the go! It's hooked up to this big pump system here, which you can read the capacity for on your bag straps!"

"Capacity?" You run your fingers over the pink indication bar, just above the adjuster for strap length. "How long does it go between charges?"

"Oh like thirty days, but that isn't what that's for. It measures how much of your breath is stored, whether or not it's full! I have no clue how long it will take you to fill it up, but your old one had this pathetic, dinky little storage chamber that only held, like, half a liter of fog. Lame, right? This sweet baby holds six! And! It puts your quirk to work! Take a look at this pocket!"

She snaps it open and you see several canisters, all screwed into the same tubing that leads to the main pump. Did she have a prototype for this handy? Did she have something in mind before she even saw your order? You can't fathom how anyone managed this much work in just a day and a half. 

"Your old, lame Medibag was filled with squeeze bags to give out for emergencies, right? But those pop, or tear, and they're just a pain to store. These, on the other hand, are sturdy! They fill up with your concentrated breath thanks to the compressor down here under the main pump. And when these are full, you pop them out, and you grab one of these from this pocket here!"

A different flap, this one filled with little plastic inhaler mouthpieces. She demonstrates how the pieces snap together and apart again, easy as can be. You have to hand it to her. This is spectacular. 

"This pocket is a repair access so it won't need to be pulled apart if something inside goes wrong, plus it's where you charge it. This pocket is filled with spare canisters. This one gives you access to the emergency lights and all their different settings, so you'll be super visible in the dark!"

"What about this pocket?"

"That's just a regular pocket."

"Oh." Your head spins a little. Again, you look at Power Loader. This time, his expression is all pride and you understand why. This took hard work, insight, and a mania for creation bordering on madness. "This is truly Plus Ultra, Miss Hatsume. I can only imagine how many lives you've helped me save with this miraculous machine."

She slides in next to you, smirking. "I know, she's pretty great. Maybe when your high-end, Medical Hero colleagues see her, you could happen to lean down just a little bit…?" She tilts it to reveal the underside, which bears a sewn patch and what must be her inventor's signature. "The Mei Hatsume brand guarantees repairs, but also warns we might get carried away and blow your mind every time you come back by making things way, way cooler."

"All right, Hatsume, all right. You've got to get to your next class."

"Awww," she groans. "But you said I could do the pitch!"

"No, I said you could come in person to give it to her. Save the sales for later. And maybe let the customer get used to their product before you coerce them into shilling for you?"

She snorts. "Boo."

"Darling, I'll be sure to mention you to anybody who remarks on my gear with interest," you promise. "It shouldn't be hard. And I imagine this Medibag will become a collector's item once you're a famous support engineer, thanks to this lovely patch."

Her grin returns. "I like you lady. You get it. All right, I'll go back to class. But you better be ready with another project when I get to the workshop this afternoon," she tells Power Loader. "I need to science!!"

He ushers her off, and you wonder if he's going to follow until he doubles back and holds the door partially closed. You can't help but hold your new toy close and reverently as you float over to him. "She's exceptional."

"She's a pain in the ass. But she's going to shoot the moon, I'm telling you. I love having students like that around." He clears his throat. "But she does get carried away. I checked your original Medibag and everything stored with it before I let her take the wheel. I thought I might find some spare parts, but it was mostly old homework I'm not sure you ever turned in."

"Oh. Haha."

"And also this. I, uh… I figured this was something you'd want back." He hands you a folded piece of paper. You un-crumple it and your heart sails away, right out your mouth. "Even if you don't, the kids probably wouldn't understand if they stumbled across this."

This photograph was taken your second year at U.A.. A costume party to celebrate Hero Appreciation Day. On the left, you, floating two feet off the ground, posed in mockery of drama. On the left, Toshi, fallen perfectly into a pose of fortitude. You are dressed as Lux. He is Quasar. And you are both so, so young. You bite your lips together. 

"Did he, um…" Power Loader peeks outside the office. "I heard yesterday was bad. Did he tell you about his, um…" How can he say it? How can it be said?

You nod, stuffing the picture away into your pocket so you don't start tearing up at work. Enough of that. "He did."

"Sorry we had to keep that from you. The rest of us, we had a meeting just before you were hired, where he uh… Well, where we saw him."

"Ah. I was wondering if maybe the teachers didn't like me working with them or something."

"No, no. I'm sorry if it came off like that. But you know how things are with All--"

"Nurse L/N, I hurt Bakugou really bad and I need help!"

"Stop being such a fucking drama king! I'm not dying or anything, it's just blood. Damn."

Eijirou Kirishima pulls Katsuki Bakugou into your office. You sigh. Class 1-A always manages to give you something to do during the school day. "Come in and have a few deep breaths, darling. We'll get you bandaged up in just a moment."

Power Loader can't help chuckling. "Back to the grind for both of us, then. Anyway, I just wanted to say you shouldn't be too hard on him for keeping secrets. In his position, I wouldn't have had the courage to tell my ex-girlfriend, either."

"Girlfriend?!"

4.

Any minute now. Any minute now the bus will pull in and F/N will be home. Toshinori is riddled with aches and pains, the evidence of his time spent with Nana and Torino while other students were on vacation. It's been difficult. A few days ago, he could barely find the strength or drive to get out of bed.

But then it was only five days until F/N would be back.

Four days.

Three.

Two.

Tomorrow.

Any minute now.

He sees a bus, yellow and blue, creeping around the corner, stuck behind traffic. He checks his watch before he gets his hopes up. It's been a false alarm before. Twelve-fifteen. That could be it. That has to be it.

He stands up tall and ready. He has to look strong for her and not like he's barely slept. All of the gravel in his face, all of the knees in his gut, all of the empty aspirin bottles are about to be worth it. The bus is stopping. She's coming home.

F/N trudges down the steps, clinging tight to the rail. She waves appreciatively to the driver, who shuts the door behind her and goes off to deliver the other Musutafu-local campers to their appropriate stops. Then, she sighs deeply, bends under the weight of her backpack, and begins to drag herself up the street.

"Uh? Hey, F/N!"

She startles so badly she floats, her feet go over her head. Toshi rushes to grab her down and right her balance. He can't help laughing at her open-mouthed shock. "Surprise! I came to meet you!"

"Holy Nebraska, who the heck are you?!" She looks over both of his shoulders, behind his back. "And where is Toshi?"

"Hah. F/N, it's me."

"Did you eat Toshi?! Did you eat my best friend? Villain scum!" She laughs and wraps her arms around his neck, kicking her legs and for once happy to be in the air. Her backpack weighs more than she does. "How did you get this much taller in just two weeks?"

"I don't know what you're talking about. I'm exactly the same height I was." But maybe she's right. He's been walking into a lot of low archways lately. The cereal is easier to reach. "You shrunk."

"No! Don't say that, I'm already puny!" She groans and relaxes in Toshinori's embrace. Her arms remain tethered behind his neck. "Please tell me it's movie night. I need television."

He dangles a plastic bag of convenience store groceries in one hand, the other fine to hold her in place. Wouldn't want her to float away, right? "I already have popcorn. But first, I want to hear all about camp. Was it great? You said something about Recovery Girl letting you do a whole procedure by yourself?"

"Yeah… I can't even think right now. I need Hollywood violence and sugar to brain better."

"Do you think you got the internship?"

"No way," she says. But she's not upset. "Maybe I'll be ready when they do a camp next year, but this time? Not a chance."

"You're going again next year?" She enjoyed it! She learned things! And at this rate, Recovery Girl will take notice and remember her! It's going to be the beginning of great things for his best friend, Toshi knows it. If he can tap into some of her luck? He's sure to be a Symbol of Peace someday soon. 

F/N groans. "Stop making me think about how long I had to spend without you and carry me to TV, Toshi. Rescue me from digital deprivation."

"Consider yourself saved. Onward, to my place!"

"My hero!"

5.

"I saw you on the news today," she says. Her voice is a million miles away but he tries to pull himself in. "You managed to be All Might for a while. Did it take a lot out of you?"

"Not much more than usual."

She reaches her hand through the fog to invite him inside. Toshinori shakes himself from the daze, or tries to. It's better to be sleepy than fatigued, but neither lends itself to looking professional. "Recovery Girl is already gone for the night, so I'm afraid it's just me here. Don't mind the mist. I got a new tool and I got carried away playing with it."

"It looks like a cloud made of cotton candy in there."

She laughs. It settles his guts a little to hear. At this point, he doesn't care if it's F/N or Recovery Girl waiting in the office to treat him. He just doesn't want to be yelled at. "It won't hurt you. I'll suck it back up as I go."

There's no reason for that, he thinks as he enters. Her quirk leaves a bouquet of mints and sugars wherever it settles. He greatly prefers it to the sterile, hospital smell. This lets him imagine he's in a candy store instead of the ICU. "Yesterday, I couldn't muster the power to shift at all. Today, I held out for two hours, forty-seven minutes. Still a loss, but nowhere near what I expected."

"Does putting yourself on a timer help to keep track of your endurance?"

"It helps me frame it, think about it better. In truth, there's some wiggle room. If it's a crisis and I have to tough it out, I will. But…"

"But you pay for it later."

"Right."

She floats around him in a wide circle. She's thinking, searching for something. "Hm…"

"What?" He looks about himself. Finally, he realizes he must look ridiculous. His golden age costume sags off his skeletal frame. He looks like a scarecrow in a colored sack. "Oh, did you want to see how it happens? I can do it now, that's not an issue."

Little breath. Pressure in the diaphragm. Clench. Hold.

She tumbles backward in the air, then scrambles to right her skirt. He didn't see anything. Her knee, perhaps. He wasn't looking, either, he reminds himself. "Goodness, that is a difference. Don't strain yourself for my sake, Toshi."

It's not even a relief to drop the load. It comes with its own pain, though little is physical. "Thanks. I've got maybe five more minutes in me, in case something happens. Hopefully it's enough. Someday, it won't be."

"As long as I get to help keep that day off your calendar for a while, it's fine."

"About that." He clears his throat. "I appreciate your offer to help, but you should focus on these kids. They're gonna need the attention more."

"Why is that?"

"Well, because I don't think Nedzu and Recovery Girl really hired you just to tape me back together when I break myself apart. It's to help these kids when I'm gone. I've been their teacher, so, navigating the trauma might be…" It's been on his mind. She put it there herself, thoughts of 'what will come when you're gone?' He isn't ready to face the full brunt of this reality. He can't admit he's about to hit rock bottom. But he can try to make things easier for F/N, for her sake and the sake of the coming generation.

"I'll keep that in mind. They're fine right now, though. And you are less so." She reaches into her skirt pocket, shaking her head, clicking her tongue. "Do you want to see what was in my old equipment bag? The one I left here?"

The photograph stings him.

F/N is identical, past and present, to his eye. Just as beautiful and sarcastic and vibrant. If anything, she's better now. This picture is the preview. Today is her heyday.

And then, the Toshinori that used to be. The naive kid with dreams in his heart and light in his eyes. Look at how strong he used to be. Look at how happy he was. Then, upon the man as he truly is today. A cicada husk stares at the life it used to house, watches it fly away as everything goes brown, and dry, and dead.

He hands it back. "What a throwback," he mumbles.

"What? Remembering the wedgie that costume gave you?"

Hah. He shakes his head. "Thinking I should have enjoyed being young. Thinking back to a time before all these aches and pains." Though, they fade as he cycles her quirk through his body. The worst pangs ease back. They will return, but not while he's breathing her air. "You would probably still fit in that costume."

"I would not!" She pinches her sides and thighs. Wh… Why? She looks great. "Look at all this ass I've picked up. I'd rip the spandex trying to slide it up my leg, for sure."

He almost asks to pinch her, just to prove that's not true. Or maybe to see if it is true. Or maybe just to have an excuse to touch her. "You haven't changed."

"I've changed a lot, I think. Hopefully for the better."

He would say so. Stronger quirk, steadier voice, lovelier than ever. "I wish I'd been as lucky." He pinches his side, mimicking F/N. "A little extra weight would be nice, actually."

"… Toshi, may I ask something? It's been bothering me for a long time."

"Of course."

"When you're wearing that costume, where do you keep your phone?"

It's such a departure, it surprises him. "Why did you have to say it in such a serious tone?"

"Well, it keeps me up at night! I've seen all kinds of memes suggesting you pull it out of your ass. That can't possibly be true, can it?"

He smiles, holds back a chuckle. Toshi leans down to show off the seam of his boot, where there is a concealed pocket. He slides his phone out, shows it to her. She claps and says "ooooh" like a little tourist, so he spins it like a western gunslinger before holstering it back in his boot. "Satisfied?"

"Do both boots have pockets?"

"Yup."

"Perfect!" She disappears in her fog, leaving Toshinori clutching the sides of the cot. It's a thick, blinding haze in here. The lights cause eerie, ghostly shadows. He exhales everything, then sucks in as hard as his one lung can manage to see if he can clear the room as efficiently as F/N. In spite of his best five efforts, the atmosphere is unchanged. She returns and tosses a plastic wrapper at his chest. "Keep this in your other boot so you don't have to worry about missing meals when you're on the go."

A protein bar. He doesn't recognize the brand, but it has all kinds of "This is Healthy" branding on it, and if a Medical Hero is handing it out, it must be fine.

"Thanks," he says and slides it into the other hidden slot with no intention of eating. Somebody else might want it, though. The bar won't go to waste. "And thank you for today and yesterday. I don't mean to take up so much of your time and effort."

"You don't succeed, either. This is easy so far. I look forward to really digging my claws into this project, one talon at a time."

He fears her ambition, not because she might harm or cross him, but because she might get her hopes up.

Chapter Text

1.

Hanta Sero turns around to sit backward in his chair. "Hey, you guys have spent a lot of time in the Nursing Office, right?"

Midoriya has, and the friends who have remained with him after the end of class shrug casually. "I've been there a few times," says Uraraka. "Deku is there a lot."

"W-well, my fingers," he says and pulls his sleeve over his knuckles.

"So you've talked to the Nurse? The pretty one who substituted for Mr. Aizawa?"

"Nurse L/N, yeah."

"Do you know who her ex-boyfriend is?"

"Huh?"

Sero looks around, but any chance to be sneaky dissolves as Momo Yaoyorozu and Kyoka Jiro invite themselves into the conversation. Everyone else is happy to leave for lunch, so he speaks at a normal volume. "According to Kirishima, when he took Bakugou there the other day for the cut on his shoulder, Nurse L/N was talking to Power Loader. And Power Loader said something about how she should forgive her ex-boyfriend for keeping secrets from her."

"That's horrible!" says Jiro. "Why do guys think they can get away with that kind of stuff? Keeping secrets in a relationship is wrong no matter what."

"I don't know," says Sero. "She's a Pro Hero, right? And that means she dates other Pro Heroes, right? Wouldn't it make sense for them to hide dangerous things from one another?"

Iida slams his hand down on the desk. "A healthy partnership is built on respect and trust! Lying and keeping secrets is intolerable!"

The small group argues a bit more about whether or not such a theoretical man could be worthy of forgiveness, but Midoriya can only think 'This makes more sense' . All Might avoids her at every possible opportunity, yet calls in the night to ask about her safety. They were in school together, she helped him with homework, she knows and remembers stark details of their youth together. All Might showed him a picture from third year, but L/N told a story about their first week as classmates. They must have known one another that whole time. But neither of them is forward with details. A bad break-up perfectly explains both of their behaviors.

"What do you think, Midoriya?"

"H-huh?!" He snaps out of his daze and realizes he's being stared at. 

"Yeah, you've spent more time around Miss L/N than anyone else here. Do you have any guess who her ex is?"

He cannot divulge these secrets. He clams up, shakes his head, and prays they don't connect the dots he's managed to assemble so quickly.

"Figures. Well, she looks like she's about the same age as Mister Aizawa, so maybe Midnight or Present Mic will know?"

They get up at last, off to eat their lunches. But Midoriya can't accompany his friends today. He already has an appointment with his mentor.

2.

"You're setting yourself up for disappointment, dearie."

What can you do but shrug and continue entering treatment logs? Behind you, Recovery Girl finishes her lunch and makes time to enjoy her tea. "I've become an expert at pestering over the years. I fancy I can put those skills to good use here. I'll have our Patient Yagi on track with medicine and keeping a food log before you know it."

She laughs at you. "Do you think I've spent the last six years trying nothing? Can you remember me ever being lenient with a patient the way I am with Toshinori?"

"Not presently."

"He's worn me down like no patient ever has," she says, shaking her head, sipping her hot, green beverage. "You think you can reason with him now, but give it a month and you might be as jaded as I am."

"Well, Chiyo, that's the difference between you and me. You argue with your problem-people because you don't have any choice left. You hate it when things come to blows because you're a good, kind, empathetic person who would rather kiss the problem away than have to take out the belt."

She reclines. "And you don't see yourself that way?"

"No, ma'am. I'm a rude bitch who lives for the mortal suffering of my foes. Verbal smackdowns and guilt-traps are my favorite." And on that note, you finish out the binder. This one goes among the other five completed specimens in the storage closet, where you grab everything you need before heading for the office door. "I'm off to war. Farewell, my mentor, my teacher. I fear I shan't see your radiance again in this wretched life."

"Have a nice lunch break, dear."

You hike your purse over your shoulder and float off. You don't plan to leave the campus to eat, but you can't go a fourth day in a row without getting your midday meal because you're surprised by an injured child. Food can always wait. It waits until you forget it and by the end of the day? You're hungry.

You are on your way to one of the roof access doors when you see the door to the teacher's lounge open. And out comes Midoriya Izuku. "Thanks All Might," he says. "I'll try harder to--"

He sees you.

He gasps, ready to scream.

You shake your head, madly whip your hands around to beg silence. Please don't yell! Hush, hush.

Panicked, he glances back at the lounge, then at you. And then he fakes a sneeze.

"Bless you, young Midoriya," says All Might from within the room.

Midoriya laughs nervously and starts toward you. "Thanks, gotta go, thanks for everything, bye All Might!" and once the door is shut and he's on his way toward you with hunched shoulders and quivering hands, you hear him say, "Shit."

How interesting. You were right to suspect there was a connection between the two of them after all. Did he see the Symbol of Peace as he truly is, or is Toshinori wasting his precious, limited energy to keep up a charade for his biggest fan in U.A.? It seems somehow more insidious to you, the way Midoriya fears what you will ask him next. He quivers and avoids eye contact. "What were you doing in there with All Might?" you ask.

"Having lunch." He's nearly whispering. He knows you want an explanation, but offers none.

It concerns you, but it could be nothing. Toshi is dying. Midoriya has a strength ability. Maybe this is him trying to be a mentor just as the Shimura woman had once been for him, even though he's stretched thin. "Darling, you aren't in trouble," you assure Midoriya. You cannot promise the same for his idol.

Especially once you see what he has clutched in his left hand.

"What is that?"

"Th-this? It's a Flex Bar. All Might gave it to me." He swallows. "Nurse L/N, I didn't know I wasn't allowed in there, I'm really sorry."

"No, no. If All Might invited you for a private conversation, that's your business. You're fine, darling. May I see that protein bar, though?"

He surrenders it and, sure enough, it has your initials on it, along with your sharpie recording of yesterday's date and time. You keep it, and speak sweetly to the boy a bit more. Whether he likes it or not, he's about to become your counterspy. "Thank you. But what I really need to know, darling, is whether or not you saw All Might eat anything during lunch?"

"Huh?"

"His food. He invited you, and you ate, didn't you?"

"I… I did, yes." He thinks, turns back to look at the door, and then shakes his head. Innocently, he says, "I didn't see him eat anything, actually."

That dumb bastard.

You've got him cornered.

You smile because you're as happy as you are angry, but all of the joy is directed at Izuku who just handed you some nuclear codes without knowing it. "Thank you. I'm sorry to pry, but I worry very much about his health. It's a Medical Hero's curse, I suppose."

"You still care a lot about him."

You close your mouth without finding a proper reply. Of course you do. But caring about All Might and caring about Toshinori Yagi are two different disciplines. When Izuku speaks of this man, he is a single person, wholly worthy of special attention and your relentless effort. He cannot be one person to you. You do not love both halves.

You sigh and reach into your purse, dropping the Flex Bar in exchange for an inhaler. "Darling, can I beg your help with an experiment? These came with my new equipment, but I haven't lent them out to anyone yet. You have a tendency to get scraped up."

"I've been holding back lately and trying to be careful."

"That's good. But in the event you do get yourself hurt and I'm not around to help, take this. It has a hit of my quirk concentrated within. I don't think it will be enough to mend bone, but then, I'm not sure how efficient it really is. Hold on to it, and if you use it in an emergency, let me know the results?"

He nods and tucks it into his backpack. You hope he will put it on his utility belt. One of these days, he's going to snap a finger right off, and god help him if you and Recovery Girl aren't there to put him back together.

"Off toward class, darling. Study hard."

He goes on his way, still looking a bit ashamed. 

You knock on the door to the lounge, then invite yourself in. Toshinori is rigid until he sees it's you, somebody already allowed to know why he looks so unlike the icon. "F/N! I didn't expect to see you in here."

"I'm sorry. I wanted to eat my lunch while I still had a chance, and if I stay with Recovery Girl, I'll end up bandaging and juggling ice packs instead." You invite yourself to sit across from him and set your bento box out on the table. "Would you like any?"

"No thank you. I already ate."

"Oh? That's good, I don't want you burning calories you don't have. Especially after all those arrests this morning. Was that bank robber as tall as he looked on the news?"

He smiles and rests his weight against the back of the couch. Posture relaxes and opens. "I have no idea, I didn't see him from this side of the screen. I think most of that extra mass came from the multiple arms, though."

"Makes sense. So what did you have for lunch? You're not still hungry?"

"Nah. I had a meat bun. Some steamed rice."

Liar. But you nod and play along, nibbling your own meal. You tip your drink over, spilling just a bit, then hastily clean it up with a disposable napkin. "Whoops."

"It happens." He invites himself to breathe your mist, though it's a thin stream at the moment. You aren't here to treat him so you aren't putting much effort into conjuring. "So, since you're here now, I'll give you the jist. Easier than having me come in for another check-up tonight, right? I guess the other day was one bad blow, and it ended up being an isolated incident. I'm back up to my three hours as All Might."

"Mmm. That's good." And it also doesn't constitute any part of a check-up. If you took patients at their word every time they claimed to be better, the graveyards would be crowded. You take your napkin and float to the waste bin to get rid of it, confirm your suspicions, and sit back down across from him. "A meat bun, huh? The kind from the convenience store on White and Sakura Street?"

"Yeah, but that isn't--"

"Did Midoriya take your garbage out for you when he left for class?"

He spits up blood all over himself. You surrender each and every one of your napkins trying to get the mess up before it sets. But his saggy Might costume has some kind of super-science scotchgard. Everything comes out fine. Toshi coughs into his fist a few times, his other hand stuffed with wipes. "Er… You saw that, did you?"

"Oh, I saw him pass by and had a suspicion. But that's not really my business. I figure you must have a pretty good reason for giving him extra attention. He certainly does feed off of every word you give him. And since he's been going through such a frustrating rut, well… It's fine."

His relief is shallow. He knows you're holding other cards. "Ah."

"How was the protein bar I gave you the other day? Was the flavor all right? If it's too disgusting, I can find something else to keep in the office for you."

"No, no. It was just fine."

"Yeah? Which was it that I gave you, again? The strawberry one? Banana?"

"I… I couldn't possibly recall. It didn't have much of a flavor."

"Maybe you'd taste it better if you put it in your mouth," you say, holding it up from your purse.

He looks from it, covered in your signature and timestamp, to you. He takes a deep breath. Toshi lets his shoulders settle and seems even smaller. As if he could sink between the cushions and be gone forever. "Okay, you caught me. But you don't understand. Eating is… Half the time, I end up regretting it."

"Not having a stomach means you need several small meals paced throughout the day. If you feel a lack of energy, part of the reason is poor nutrition. You need to feed your body in a manner it can process."

"I don't have time to stop whatever I'm doing to go figure out food."

"That's why I gave you a Flex Bar."

"I'm not even hungry," he protests.

"You aren't feeling hungry because you haven't been taking your Vitamin B-Twelve." You take a bottle out of your purse since you've come prepared and slam that down next to the Flex Bar. "You haven't picked up your prescription in almost a year. Take one of these every night."

"I… I can't possibly keep that up regularly. I can never even be sure I'll be home at night, or all week."

"That's fine." You take out your last secret weapon, a syringe, which you flick and uncap. That's a big, sharp needle. "It also comes as a monthly shot, which I can give you right now. In the butt."

His jaw tenses. "… You wouldn't."

You would. 

3.

He expects to hear two voices delivering Supermassive's villainous monologue— the actor's and F/N's. It's just the antagonist's words tonight, echoing in the dark apartment while rain pours outside. Toshinori looks up from the movie to find F/N fast asleep next to him, slumped forward into the pillow balanced on her knees. She's been talking about seeing Quasar Falls again since it left theaters. Camp must have really taken it out of her.

Light and orchestra blast from his television, startling F/N awake. She blinks, blinded and disoriented. He can see by the way her head dips low that she's going to pass out again, so he nudges her closer. Her weight rolls against him. She rests her face against his ribs and he drapes his arm around her.

The movie races by without Toshi looking up to enjoy it. It's been too long since he saw her face and heard her laugh. It's the first time she's slept near him. Are all girls this warm? Is this that cuddling thing they're always talking about in shows and films?

It's nice. It makes him feel too big for his body and too small for this world all at once. She sighs in her sleep and nuzzles her way between his jacket and shirt. He smooths her hair back, runs his fingers through to get it off her face and neck. Her sleep deepens. Her yawn produces a lumpy, pink puff that smells like licorice. Is she dreaming of candy?

He realizes in one cold, harrowing sweep that this feeling in his chest isn't friendship. It's not innocent. If he had his way, he might pull her onto his chest, wrap them together in a blanket, and keep her there forever. Never again surrendering her to two-weeks camps or long weekends stuck with her mother. He might press his lips to hers and taste her quirk at the source. He might ask her to put her hands on his body, anywhere, just to know she's near.

It's a crush.

He tries to watch the movie, but as Lux and Quasar go down in flames, she whines and kicks in her sleep. "No more catheters… I'll write the essay instead… That will teach Torino… to fuck with cows…"

It takes everything not to laugh and wake her. 

His chest hurts. He can't come clean about these feelings. If he loses F/N's friendship to his own foolish longing, he will never forgive himself. He would rather suffer silently at her side than open his mouth and never see her again.

4.

Recovery Girl leaves early to see a hospital about a wounded Hero. You are alone for the final minutes of the day, when Shouto Todoroki finds his way into your office. You turn to greet him, but stop short when you see how pale and ice-covered he is. "Oh, darling… Come in and defrost. Have a seat."

He drags himself in, rigid, shivering. You feel the chill he carries and see how it casts your fog heavier and lower on the ground. He is wearing his gym clothes still, which are between soaked and frozen. You fetch spares and blankets from the storage closet, leaving them on the cot beside him before drawing the curtain. "Get changed. I'll be back in a moment and we'll have you back to a proper temperature."

You hurry out and manage to catch Midnight just before she exits the building for the night. "Already gasping for air?" she teases. "I haven't even touched you yet."

"May I borrow your hair dryer?"

She fishes it out of her purse, no questions asked, and holds it out to be taken. But when you pull, she keeps hold and drags you in closer. "I might let you take it, but you'll have to do something for me first."

"Oh?"

"Drinks. Tomorrow night. I'm taking you and Thirteen to Moon Butterfly to break both of you out of your shells."

You cringe. "I don't know, Midnight. Last time I went drinking was with my younger friends, and things got extremely out of hand. I almost got arrested."

"No kidding?" She beams. "Maybe you should invite your friends! They sound like fun!"

You should not, under any circumstance, allow your underworld friends to meet your coworkers. These parts of your life are compartmentalized for a reason. "Nah," you laugh, nervous. "I, um, I can't keep up with these young folks. So maybe drinking with you and Thirteen will be a little easier. If it's just one or two glasses, I'm sure it's fine."

She lets go of the hairdryer, winks at you, and says, "I'll be expecting your call tonight. If I don't hear from you? You'll be in for quite a spanking on Monday."

She… probably doesn't mean that literally. You hurry back to your patient and try not to wonder why, exactly, Midnight insists on bringing her whip everywhere. Should you be worried?

You plug everything in and Shouto pulls the curtain back on his own. He's still shaking, but he's already dryer and probably more comfortable. You brace his head against one arm to keep him steady and start getting the ice out of his hair. "Did you misjudge the amount of energy you had left, darling?"

"I guess." You can see his breath. White-toned puffs, nothing like your complex hues and scents. Still too cold.

"Are you going to be able to get home okay?"

"My sister is picking me up."

Good, good. You'd hate to have him pass out on the bus and miss his stop. But then, he's a Todoroki. Has he ever taken public transit? With money like that, you doubt it. "Do you want to try eating something? It might help."

He shrugs. You give him a protein bar without expecting he'll try it, and he stuffs it into his pocket. Todoroki looks up at you with his mismatched eyes. It's quite a scar over his left side, but the damage is superficial. "Did you used to date one of our teachers or something?"

You nearly drop the dryer. "Huh?!"

"Power Loader said you had an ex, right? I thought maybe it was somebody who worked here, and that's why you don't want people talking about it."

"I… I have no idea where you've gotten this rumor." You clear your throat, focus on your job. He makes it harder, watching you with expectations of answers he really shouldn't get. "There's no truth to any of that. I barely know most of the faculty."

"Seems like kind of a defensive answer. The kind you might give if you were covering up an affair or something."

Fuck, kid, where did you develop this colorful imagination ? You shake your head. "Honestly, you kids. You see one old picture and you start coming up with conspiracy theories."

"What picture?"

"Never mind. Turn your head the other way, darling."

5.

Toshinori does not trust the food to stay down. It's a mistake he's made before, one that ruins nights and mornings. It's not that he dislikes food. He has his taste buds, he enjoys meals and flavors as a concept. The aftermath, however, is rarely kind. More comes back up than stays down, the things that stay down sting, and then it passes like a nightmare. He's All Might. He laughs in the face of evil, wrangles the sun between his hands, and banishes the night. He is the adored and revered, picture-perfect, eternal posterboy for justice.

That image is incompatible with the miserable nights he's spent locked in his bathroom. More than the pain and mess, it's shame that food promises now. Not immediately. Two hours later, maybe. Longer if he's lucky.

But tonight, for the first night in months, he was hungry. So he bit the bullet.

Or rather, the chicken cutlet.

He sits at the table, a habit he hasn't been in for some time. When Recovery Girl still bothered to force her routine on him, she said he ought to wait a few hours between eating and sleeping. It's just as well. He's not tired.

No, Toshinori reminds himself. He is tired. Were it not for Villains and danger, he might sleep clean through the weekend. Monday might be better. The kids have a way of bringing him some enthusiasm, involving him in their jokes and looking to his wisdom. He finds himself especially eager to check in on Midoriya, no doubt because Midoriya will always be happy to see him.

And F/N. He'll be glad to see her, too. Safe at U.A., barriers and combat-efficient Heroes between her and whatever still lurks the streets of Musutafu. She's back at her apartment now, he thinks. He hopes. He goes to find something to do other than mope and stare into space.

It can't be a mistake that Quasar Falls catches his eye. Both versions, available to stream. How convenient. He remembers the agony of waiting once it left theaters. Kids these days will never know the throttling joy of being in the convenience store, only to realize by chance your favorite movie can finally come home with you. He wonders if he still has his copy from back in the day, but abandons the thought. He doesn't have a machine to play it on anymore.

In spite of F/N's endorsement, the remake has a lower rating. The original has four-and-a-half out of five stars but deserves six. The newcomer is barely pulling a three. They don't make movies like they used to. He chooses the original, then dims the lights and settles into the good chair.

Fictional Polaris City glitters, restored and vibrant in HD. Isn't it beautiful? Shot in America. Hollywood magic. 

And oh, these actors. They're not around anymore, probably not a single one. The lead died, the one who played Quasar, when Toshinori was in college. Dave couldn't understand because he'd never seen the film. And Toshi wasn't ready to watch it again. There he is, though. Young again, in his prime. And Lux hasn't changed at all.

Sure. Let's go down this road again. Let's fight to the end, just to say goodbye .

Has Midoriya seen the original? If he's only beheld the remake, he ought to witness these scenes himself. "My rays will pierce the blackness, and never again will you fear the night," he mumbles along. "I will never abandon this city."

His words break and fall apart in an empty home. This nostalgia stings because all the things that made moments stick around in his soul are gone now. It's like finding a great drink that you thought went out of production, only to taste they've changed their formula. 

For want of anything to take up the time between eating and sleeping, unsatisfied with Quasar for the first time in his life, Toshinori texts F/N.

-Did you get home in one piece?

"I will have the world and become as God once Quasar falls," seethes Supermassive. Toshi avoids looking up for that scene. There's something about the way he holds himself that's too true to a real-life counterpart. The memory makes his sides ache, right where key organs used to be. 

Ding-ding . F/N still texts. Better, she's willing to still text him.

-Two pieces. Had a whole arm crack off and had to carry it, nbd. What about you?

-Just finished dinner.

-NO LIQUIDS! ALLOWED! for TWO HOURS!!

He rolls his eyes, but he does manage a weak, dry smile. She's going to get sick of this. Maybe it will take a week, maybe it will take a couple months. But it will happen.

-Ok doc.

She leaves his message as read. No little dots. He didn't give her much to work with, he supposes, so he tries to think of something else to talk about.

-Do you have any weekend plans?

-Got roped into drinks with Midnight. Some place called Moon Butterfly?? Worried about it, tbh.

-She won't let you float off, don't worry. Midnight really went out of her way to make sure we were home safe when I went with the teachers last weekend. 

He hesitates, and then adds,

-If you're concerned, you can always call me and I'll come get you.

-Thx. Don't want to be that girl, tho. I'm not here to make your life harder.

-It's no trouble.

-How does your butt feel?

He sighs. This isn't exactly the direction he wanted their conversation to go. He's not sure what he expected. 

On his television, Quasar swoops in to save Lux before a missile can strike her. She berates him for leaving his checkpoint, risking citizens that might have been targeted to come to her aid. They are fine. So is she. But that isn't the point and Quasar doesn't understand. She's supposed to be on her own now. She shouldn't need his rescues.

He ought to tell her that he needs her as badly as he thinks she might need him. But he doesn't. Never does. And she turns her back on him for the last time. But now in HD. 

-It's fine

-You know I had to do it to you. You didn't leave me any choice.

-Ok

-You text much better than you used to. I haven't had to decipher any gibberish yet!

-I finally have a keyboard big enough for my thumbs.

-Lol!

Okay. He turns the movie off before the big ending kiss and changes his chair's position. He lays, cracking his back along the way, groaning, sighing, settling. It's time to attempt sleep, and with any luck, he won't wake needing to race to the bathroom. 

His phone buzzes a few more times, but he lets it lay there for a while before accepting sleep's distance and checking F/N's responses.

-Used to be a chore, trying to figure out what you meant with limited minutes. Everything works so different now, but not really? Still paying a monthly phone bill, after all. So odd. 

-Sorry, I'm sure you're not interested in late-night ramblings about my phone bill.

-It's pretty late, actually. You might be good to get some sleep. Can't save the world without recharging your batteries. 

Nothing else. She must be going to bed, too, he thinks. He closes his eyes.

One last message. He peeks at it.

-I just want to let you know, I'm amazed with you. You've held out this long and I'm here to help you keep your grip, so don't hesitate to tell me if something isn't working or you want help.

The old movie never changes, it just gets updated for clarity. The Hero never gets to hold her, and he's going to leave her heartbroken in the end. 

Chapter Text

1.

Cinder calls you at six in the morning. You set your tea aside and mute the news. There's been no All Might this morning, but it's also been quiet. Maybe the criminals of the world are taking a day off, too. "Good Morning, Cinder. How are you feeling?"

"Ugh." Hungover, you suspect.

"Have some water."

"I will, but I gotta do this networking thing for you first."

"What's the matter?"

"It's the patient Daddy connected you with, the one from the Big Pond. He wants to move his follow-up appointment to today. It's some place in Yokohama. They're being pissheads about this, too--blowing up my phone for like an hour."

"Did you get any details? Is something wrong with him?"

"Other than being an asshole? I have no idea. Just tell me if you're in or out."

"In. Send me the address." You finish your cup of breakfast tea, and before she can hang up, you raise your voice to stop her. "Cinder, I need my Hero I.D. back!"

She swears. "I'm so, so sorry F/N hunnie, I didn't even realize I had it until I looked in my coat the next morning. I'll drop it off to you, myself. I wouldn't trust one of Daddy's dumb gorillas to get it to you without folding it up and creasing it or something. When can I get it to you?"

"Well, I need it by tonight. I'm going…" You stop yourself. No, no. "I'm staying in and doing paperwork."

"Ooh, where are you going tonight, F/N hunnie?"

"Nowhere special. Just a little get-together with teachers. Sure to be boring."

"I'll spice it up for you."

"That's not necessary."

"Unnecessary things are what make life worth living! Besides, I know who you work with. I've always wanted to party with Pros!"

"We are not partying."

"Not without me, you aren't."

"Cinder."

"Oh, come on! You're no fun." She whines and sighs, finally mewling into her phone. "Ok, party pooper. I'll just drop your card off really fast and go away. All I want is to peek at them, just a little bit. Please?"

You need your ID, so you have to negotiate. "All right. It's some place called Moon Butterfly, eight at night, and I want you to call or text me when you get there. Don't just invite yourself in and make a huge scene or something."

"I would never dream of doing something like that," she lies. It's what she does for a living. Getting attention is Cinder's real quirk, and Vapor Body is just a pleasant byproduct. "I'll see you at Moon Butterfly tonight. Have fun nursing."

You shower and dress. But the time you're clean and ready for the day, the time and exact location of your meeting wait in the message box. After comparing bus schedules and discerning a route, you realize you'll make it there long before the appointment, and you have time to visit the Hero Cemetery. You should. And you should get flowers. No, they never did care for flowers. You should get a can of that terrible, Peppermint Beer they loved. 

You do not have your Hero ID yet, and you aren't likely to get your badge back until after treating your secret patient. In the interest of not accidentally floating and getting into trouble, you strap on some ankle weights. Better to be in a little pain than in a lot of trouble. You assemble your medical supplies into a kit in your purse, then set out into the beautiful, spring day.

The train ride into Yokohama is crowded with people on their way to and from work, with kids enjoying their day off from school, with people in Hero merchandise. More so than usual. It's only days before Hero Appreciation Day, you realize. That must be the source of this sudden flood of colors. Red, white, and blue with gold. Fire-orange and stubborn navy. Shades of tan with electric green. Denim. You hold a handrail and squeeze between large and small businessmen in pressed suits so you don't miss your stop.

This district of the city is pastoral, dedicated to parks and government buildings. There are embassies here, as well as a handful of agencies. The streets are pristine, the lights are new, the grass is green, and the security is tight. You are glad to be wearing weights. The security guards do not care about you, you aren't worth looking at, but you're paranoid of their glances anyway. If they stop you on your way to this meeting, the consequences could be catastrophic. Perhaps you should delete all of your messages now, since you have the spot memorized?

You veer away from the intimidating structures and toward the Professional Heroes of Japan National Cemetery. This place has an unnatural stillness, as if the wind dies to let you listen for the voices that can't call out anymore. You weave your way between the stones, briefly greeting the people you used to know, and apologizing to the ones you couldn't breathe life back into. Finally, you find them, tucked away in the back but not forgotten. Never again.

"I think you should be happy to know, I pulled myself together again. I've got a real day job again, almost like agency work, but I'm a school nurse. Can you even picture it? My sour attitude, my bloody knuckles, wiping snot and kissing boo-boos?" You take the peppermint abomination from your purse and set it on the stone surface that bears your former boss's name. "I bet you could. You always saw me in a better light than I deserved to stand in. If--"

"Hey lady!" yells a very angry young man charging at you from across the cemetery. "You better not be fucking littering!!" Two other young men chase after him. All three are armed with garbage bags, trash-pokers, and work gloves. You stay where you are, surprised and delighted to be confronted by Bakugou Katsuki, along with his friends Eijirou Kirishima and Denki Kaminari.

Kirishima holds Bakugou back from a tirade. "Whoa! Hey, Nurse L/N! We didn't know it was you!"

"I don't care who she is, I just finished picking up this section of the fucking graveyard! Keep it clean!" He snatches the can off of the grave and shoves it into your hands. "Put that shit somewhere else, damn."

You can't help but laugh. "I'm sorry. I didn't realize I was being wasteful, I just wanted to pay tribute to an old friend. I hope you can forgive me, darling."

He folds his arms and looks pointedly away. "Whatever."

"Don't mind him. We're here doing community service for our school requirements, but I think Bakugou is starting to get hungry." Kaminari puzzles over the grave marker but it's Kirishima who asks. "You knew this Hero? Jade Cannon? I've never heard that name before."

You nod, examining the stone and its new inscription, a massive improvement over the original. It says, We aim for the sun. We rise and fall together . "I knew them very well," you sigh. "I've never loved or respected a Hero the way I did Jade Cannon."

The boys exchange concerned, confused glances. Kaminari clears his voice. "Were the two of you, like… married?"

You laugh. The idea is outlandish--a hilarious, mismatched madness when you try to conjure the image. "Goodness no! Jade was some twenty years older than me. Jade was like the parent I always needed. They were like that for everybody in the agency. It seemed like they had a knack for finding the outcasts and failures of the world, putting us on our feet, and helping us shoot for the stars."

"Whoa."

"You don't look like an outcast, Nurse L/N."

"No?" Not anymore, maybe. The years and judgement dulled your fashion flare in favor of sensibility. You no longer want to stand out from the crowd or make yourself known. You wish to hide and be left to your business. "I went through a rough patch in my twenties. Got injured. Lost my job. Lost all of my money and any means of making more. And I didn't have anybody I could turn to. Jade found me, overdue on rent and undeserving of mercy, and risked their reputation and resources to put me back in the Hero game. I would never have become a Pro Hero without Jade Cannon."

"They sound rad. That's the true essence of manliness, picking other people up and fighting together to make the world better." Kirishima throws one arm around Bakugou and one around Kaminari. The electric boy laughs and allows it, but Bakugou struggles to free himself. "I'll do an extra clean-up of Jade Cannon's grave for you at the end of the day so we can leave it especially nice."

"I just fucking finished cleaning it!"

"Me too," volunteers Kaminari. "I'll pull some weeds."

"Fucking dammit you dumb motherfuckers! Do you not have eyes?! Don't you see I already took care of it?!"

You chuckle and pull some Flex Bars out of your purse, one for each of them. "Thank you for your service. Cleaning trash is not glorifying, but it does make me feel like there's some kindness in the world. I think Jade Cannon would have been honored anybody took the time to consider them. Still, make sure to drink plenty of water and get out of the sun after a while. Have a real lunch."

"We will, Nurse L/N! Thanks."

You bid them farewell, peeking over your shoulder once you've left the cemetery to see the boys arguing over who gets to put the food wrappers in their trash bag, and who ought to go fuck themselves. 

You follow the parks and ponds back to their channels. The manmade lake is on a higher terrace, decorative and utilitarian bridges scattered to allow passage. You leave the sidewalk and go wait beneath one, in the shade. The artificial river flows peacefully. Little fish dodge ducklings. Birds bring bugs to the nests crammed in the supports beneath the bridge.

Kurogiri materializes from the shade, this time without an umbrella, this time dressed plainly. "Right this way," he bids. You slide through his warp gate, shivering at the difference in temperature. 

As before, the young man with gray-blue hair sits under the good light. For all your underworld snooping, you haven't been able to confirm anything but his call name— Tomura Shigaraki. You can tell he feels better than he did last time because his voice is a sarcastic hiss. "No disguises today? This change of venue was to preserve your identity and ours. Get careless, Hero. See what it costs you."

You set your purse on the bar, making a point of ignoring his nasty little comments, while you put on gloves and take out your supplies.

"Don't get comfortable. Kurogiri ."

The void-dark gentleman goes through your things, though you doubt he could tell a dangerous medication from a safe one. In the meantime, you're masking up to keep your quirk out of Shigaraki's face, and going to look at his neck. He wears his collar close to the skin, so you cannot have answers without touching or asking him to remove some clothing. "I'm pleasantly surprised you've let me help you again. Quite the sudden change, though. Is something wrong?"

"I have plans tomorrow that would have conflicted with our arrangement."

Fair enough. You motion toward your own neck in the hopes he will mimic and let you start your job. Kurogiri, meanwhile, painstakingly returns every element removed from your bag to its original place. Such a polite man. "How has the irritation been?"

"Ch." His hands are half-way in his big pocket, the pinkies splayed wildly and probably cramping to avoid ruining his clothes. "Better. Not better enough."

That's precisely where you expected him to be, but you nod without giving too much away. "Then it's time for me to get back to work. Take off the hoodie, darling, and let me see what stage we're at."

"I told you not to get comfortable," he warns even as he obeys. "Don't order me around. And I am not your darling ."

You take the kit away from Kurogiri before he can figure out how to jam it back in your purse, thanking him briskly, and return to Shigaraki with a new hair tie. Even without lifting his hair, you see improvement. The horrid, fiery red is gone, though pink flecks remain, and the skin is as dry as before. It bears fresh scratch marks, new scars and old. "Have you found a decent moisturizer yet?"

"No." You can tell, but it was worth testing the water. He doesn't seem interested in discussing details.

"That's all right. I brought you a prescription brand to try, and I wrote the generic name on the back in case it's the one. But today, I would like to identify the worst spots and focus there. To do that, I fear you may need to do some pointing and touching. And I thought that might make things complicated."

"Do you think I'm some kind of idiot?" He holds his hands up, fingers all spread. "I can touch whatever I want, including you."

You chuckle, not taking him seriously as a demonstration of your will, and you open the kit. "I realize that. Right hand, please."

He isn't sure what to make of that. He glares at you, at Kurogiri, back at you. He does eventually let you have his hand, but he folds half of the fingers away from you and tries to tug back when you make first contact with his withdrawn little finger. You take two plastic tubes, one for the pinkie and one for the ring finger, slide them on for him, and then use little utility bandages to secure them in place. "These little finger condoms are made for people who have touch-based limitations. They're popular with dentists and chefs, so you can buy them online or at certain upscale grocery stores. I have two boxes for you here, and I recommend keeping them in your bathroom to make your morning routine easier. Left hand, please."

He growls, stealing his hand back, looking at the little pink band aids with great offense. "Ridiculous." To test your seemingly stupid solution, he rests his hand on the plastic box full of things you've brought for his benefit. It does not, however, disintegrate. Not even after he slaps it a few times. "Do you expect me to put on butterfly stickers every day, too?"

"That's entirely up to you, darling." You finish with the left hand, leaving him free to touch and scratch with three of five fingers. He takes immediate full advantage. A few flakes peel away under his fingernails, which could use trimming. But that's a job for a different day. One thing at a time. "Take as much time as you need. Is that the worst spot, there on the left?"

He grunts rather than respond. He continues scratching. You take out some more aloe wipes and, once he tires of his attempt, you clean the area off. "I brought your next round of antibiotics as well. Same as before. By the time these are out, you should be free of infection. My, that's a horrible scab." As you rub the hard shell, you feel him swallow and his resistance fades. He allows you to put his head on your chest for balance.

It is silent for a while. You clean his neck without any protests. The bar lights buzz. Kurogiri stands by, watchful, perhaps curious. 

"I took the liberty of looking into your strangler problem," Shigaraki says at last. He does not look up at you or disturb your work. Perhaps the relief is worth looking vulnerable, so long as you don't suggest there's vulnerability to be seen. "He's not associated with us, unfortunately. No idea who it was. No idea why."

So you're back to square one. "Thank you for the attempt, then."

"I find it interesting that a Pro Hero gets attacked at night, and immediately assumes the culprit is All For One. He wouldn't waste his game pieces on just anyone. And you probably know that, don't you?"

Satisfied the wipes have done as much as they can, you move on to applying moisturizer for him. It's cold, so you keep it on your fingers until it adjusts to the temperature of your hand before painting his skin. He shivers regardless. "That's very astute. You're right. I shouldn't assume he has the time or energy to target me."

"Or," Shigaraki chuckles, "are you worth more points in this game than you're letting on?" He tests the limits of his quirk, snapping up to grab your arm. But you are fine. Your meager shields hold, and he seems somewhere between relieved and disappointed. "Not even a flinch."

"I need to be on my way, darling," you tell him, going so far as to shake his perilous hand. He locks you in his grip, his thumb twitching across your fingers. "What's wrong? If you need something else, I'll happily stay longer."

"You meant it when you said you weren't like other Heroes. We checked. You go to prisons to treat Villains. You do house-calls for their families. So tell me, isn't it a pain in the ass when those violent, abusive barbarians that call themselves Heroes put people in your care? Aren't you sick of patients dying under your hands because of self-proclaimed saviors?"

This sounds like a recruitment pitch, which you did not come for. But you do remember being that age, full of truth and rage. It festers. It scars and you do not always manage to cover the old wounds. "If I had my way, darling, there would be no more violent Heroes. Only mundane ones who keep their heads down, and try to keep the world turning for the sake of the things and people they love."

"If somebody gave you the opportunity to help kill All Might, would you take it?"

A chill in your gut. Something about this is very wrong. But the conversation is theoretical, as it always is among the radical youth when they speak of toppling the Symbol of Peace. You've barked and howled at this moon before. 

But you've seen the other side of that moon, now, and found its darkness a pitiable thing. 

"No," you tell him. "My days of challenging All Might, or any other Top Hero for that matter, have long passed. Everything I did trying to change the world has crumbled in their hands, along with my zeal, and along with my faith. There's no fight in me, I'm afraid. I'm a toothless old woman."

He sighs, long and theatrical, then shrugs. "You can't teach these old dogs any new tricks, and they refuse to perform the ones they knew as puppies. Fine, then. Kurogiri, let her out."

You stop yourself before you exit the warp gate. Shigaraki tilts his head, perhaps hopeful you changed your mind. "I left my badge with you last time I was here. May I have it back?"

He shakes his head. "What a shame. It seems I accidentally turned it to ash." As you're leaving, you watch him tear the finger strips off with his teeth and spit them on the bar floor. 

2.

"We ended up helping with the vaccine drive all day. A couple people fainted when I poked the needle in. One of them was this huge, huge guy with a lion head. Got one look at the needle, begged to hold his wife's hand, and squirmed the whole time I sanitized his arm. As soon as I line things up, bam, out. I didn't even get to do the vaccine, a nurse took over because he was so anxious about it."

"Sounds like you were busy."

You were. You find another suitable rock on the beach, scoop it up, and put it in your pocket. "What about you? You keep asking about all the stuff I did at camp, but it was just technical, nursing-type things. Most of it was either boring or gross." He slows down for you, finds a rock of his own, and reels back to throw it in the water. It spins and skips, slicing through the waves thanks to his budding super-strength. How powerful will he become? He watches the stone fade into the distance, long after you've lost track, long after it's probably sunk. "What's wrong?"

"I guess I've just been thinking of some weird stuff lately."

"Yeah? Weird how?"

He continues down the beach and you chase after. Sand in your sandals, scraping your toes, grinding into your heel. "Like 'embarrassing' weird," he says. "It's adult stuff. It's dumb."

"You wanna talk about it?"

"I'm worried if I tell you, you won't want to be my friend anymore."

You laugh at him. This dumb bastard really thinks you can afford to lose him. "Dude, unless you're thinking about eating babies or something, I'm pretty sure it's fine."

"Well… what if that was what I was thinking about?"

You shrug. He's been avoidant before, but this is something else. "I guess I'd try it, too. Like the leg or something."

"F/N!"

"You asked!" You check your surroundings, then float up to pat him on the shoulder. You have a hard time reaching otherwise. The stones in your pockets make it harder to achieve that height, but once you have a hold of him, you can stay there as long as it pleases you. "What's up, Toshi? I promise I'm not going to stop being your friend, no matter what."

"… Okay, well… I've been thinking about guys a little lately."

It's not what you expected. Grades, you thought. He's thinking about switching classes or going out for sports. But this is fine. "Like, exclusively?"

"No. More like, in-addition-to."

"Oh. Neat."

"… Neat?"

"Yeah, man. I don't care." You shrug, climbing your way up onto his shoulders to get a better view of that ocean. So vast and deep, a greater thing than any human eye can behold, than any mind can wholly conceive of. It conceals and sustains life, much of it stranger than we understand. Much of it never to be discovered. And when beneath the waves are hundreds of miles of the unknown, who are you to say what is and is not natural? "I think about girls sometimes."

"Exclusively?"

"Nah." Mostly, you think about a certain tall, strong, dumb blond boy who can carry you like you're feather-light and laughs at your jokes like you're his favorite person in the world. "Mostly, I think about food."

He laughs. "Me too," he says, relieved to be off the topic.

"Here," you say and hand him a flat stone from your pocket. "See how far you can throw this one."

From on his shoulders, you feel the way his muscles move. They whip. They seize and snap. His charge tosses you from his back and you float down, disoriented but fine. The stone is gone but the wind follows its ghost. He turns to you, amazed at himself, pointing. "Did you see that?! I've never done that before! It went so, so far!"

If you were brave, you would take his face in your hands and kiss him. But you're a coward. So you high-five him instead.

"Ow!"

"F/N, I'm so sorry!"

3.

"What are you thinking about, L/N?" asks Midnight. You hurry to put your phone away again, trying to be respectful. "I brought you here to loosen you up, not to get you all hot and bothered."

"Oh, I'm just waiting for my friend to drop by. She promised to drop off a card I left with her on accident."

The atmosphere is stuffy and it's all your fault. It can't be the venue's fault because it's amazing. Moon Butterfly is a themed bar and cafe, crowded with otherworldly plants (which you think are fake?) and blue lights and running water. Realistic sculptures of animals are hidden among the flora, along with a pond containing real fish. Midnight has you in a booth somewhere in the back of the establishment where you are insulated from the public and given special attention by the wait staff. That might just be because you're here with Midnight, however. The young men ogle her shamelessly, admiring the X-Rated Pro in her rope-back dress and tall, black boots. Thirteen blends into the background somewhat, still in Heroic costume, drinking nonalcoholic beverages through a straw that leads into the suit headpiece. 

After a moment, Midnight scowls. "Oh, honestly. This is like hanging out with grandmothers, and not even the fun ones who were strippers to pay for college."

Thirteen apologizes. You try to do the same. Midnight groans, regretting the invitations no doubt. Perhaps you will be allowed to leave early. How merciful.

"F/N hunnie, I found you!"

There is no mercy and there is no God. 

Cinder throws her arms around you, inviting herself into your booth. "I've been looking all over for you since my phone battery died!" Liar, liar, liar. You doubt she even put it on silent, but you can't call her out on it now. She sees who you're with and she squeals. "You're hanging out with the Midnight?! F/N hunnie, you bitch, how could you not tell me?! I'm such a big fan, oh my gosh, hi!"

Midnight perks up. "Is this the young friend you mentioned?"

"Oh, I see my bestie has been gossiping about me. All good things, I hope. I," she says, spinning herself into a short-lived tornado and coming to a halt standing on the table in her signature pose, "am Cinder." You are mortified. Midnight is delighted. 

Thirteen laughs nervously. "You look familiar, actually. Are you a young Pro?"

Cinder giggles. Before she can say something horrible, you make her sit down like a normal person and you say, "She's a professional wrestler."

"Maybe you've seen some of my Daddy's matches on TV? I make appearances with him sometimes. Been in a handful of story-lines." She does the steamwhistle gesture, turning her hair into a flurry of smoke as she chirps, "Toot, toot!"

Midnight grins. "And here I thought L/N was just some stick in the mud old lady. Why didn't you tell me you hang with the Iron Kettle's daughter?"

"Because she's trouble."

"Because she's shy!" Cinder laughs. "And because she totally is an old lady! She's going to have her fifty-something-th birthday next month!"

Midnight and Thirteen both spit out their drinks. That's especially rough for the rescue Hero, who now has juice all over the inside of their suit. They press a button and tiny wipers pop up to diminish the damage. "She can't possibly be that old."

"She is so! Here." Cinder hands Midnight your Hero ID before you manage to snag it back, leaving both coworkers to gawk. 

Midnight hands the card back to you and you don't miss the quiver in her fingers. "I thought they were joking when they told me you were part of that generation. How? What's your secret?"

You don't have one. It's your quirk, probably, that leaves you well preserved. Or maybe all those drugs you did as a young moron have you preserved like canned corn. "I eat a lot of carrots, I guess."

She tilts her glasses down on the edge of her nose and looks you over. "Carrots?"

"Y-yeah? Yeah."

"Carrots… Hm." She shrugs and reaches over you to shake Cinder's hand. "You wanna stick around and help me loosen these bitches up a little? This job looks tough enough to require double-teaming."

Cinder squeals, delighted. You and Thirteen exchange concerned glances, but there's not much either of you can do to stop this. While Cinder scoots over you to sit next to her new best friend and cackle, you take a spot closer to Thirteen. 

After clearing their throat, the Rescue Hero murmurs to you. "I did some reading. I didn't realize you were the co-writer of Shattered Warriors."

You clutch your glass, suddenly very eager to drink. "Yeah."

"I'm sorry how things turned out. I was greatly in favor of the act passing."

It strikes you, suddenly, that Thirteen is only twenty-eight, barely older than Cinder. Shattered Warriors and the Jade Agency would have been one of the first things to dominate politics and Hero minds when they debuted. And then, one of the first catastrophic disappointments. "Thanks."

"What are you two moping about over there?"

"Nothing!" Thirteen peeps. "Or, um.. I'll tell you later. You guys wanted to drink, right? I'm driving. You should go nuts!"

Cinder waves down a waiter and hands him a black card that makes his eyes go wide as dinner plates. "Honey, I wanna try that top-shelf shit. Two shots for me, and two for she, and two for she… and another nice virgin drink for they?"

"Yes, please."

You take your shots as Midnight and Cinder compare outfits and the young wrestler fawns over the schoolteacher. "I've always wanted to do ring gear inspired by your fifth-anniversary suit, but my Daddy throws a huge fit any time I show more skin than this. I mean, what's the point of me even wearing clothes? I'm made of smoke, Daddy! Naked is just better."

"Clothes are so dumb. What we really need is to start a nude protest against costume requirements and show the boys what they've been missing out on since they forced me to put the girls under lock and key."

"I… like wearing clothes," says Thirteen. 

"Me, too."

"That's because you're still sober. Drink!"

You do.

And you do.

And you do.

And then you realize, at some point, they stopped drinking and just started handing you shit. So you, full of suspicion and bubbles, nudge the booze aside and squint at them. Awfully smiley. Awfully giggly. 

You wish you felt smiley and giggly. But you don't.

You feel sad.

"What's wrong, F/N hunnie? Your tummy hurt? You want a snack?"

"No," you whine and try to hold yourself up with a hand and one elbow propped on the tabletop. "It's just thinking about the kids. And worrying they're gonna get hurt while there's no school. What if they have to go to the hospital, but I don't hear about it until Monday? They're my kids, man…"

They're definitely looking at each other. Nodding to one another. The fuck?

You clear your throat. "And you know, they're gonna… they're gonna all become such good friends with each other. But by third year? Everything falls apart." You wipe your eyes. "I'm not ready to watch these kids lose their friendships with one another! Growing apart and going to different colleges and never talking again… Fuck, man."

"Aw, L/N? Is that what happened to you? Is that why you and All Might don't like each other any more?"

Cinder laughs at Midnight's suggestion. "She doesn't like All Might because he torpedoed her agency."

Midnight is flabbergasted, but Thirteen cuts in trying to save the night. "Hey, we don't know what the future holds for these kids! They might be tight-knit forever."

"Yeah… Yeah, hon. They're so young, and virile, and sassy right now. It's part of the overwhelming rush of becoming an adult." Midnight takes your remaining drinks away, downing them herself. Did she out-drink Cinder? You can't tell but you fear them both. Where do they put it? "Be excited! Soon, you're gonna see them become young couples!"

You slam your head down on the table.

"Did I say something wrong?"

"No," you insist, sniffling.

Thirteen speaks up again, but their tone is clear and no longer aimed at conversation. "These Villain attacks are really picking up. It's probably time we get you three home."

"Those two," Midnight corrects. "I'm still alert and good to go. I'll help you take everybody where they need to go, first. Cinder, do you want a ride?"

"More than anything! In a car with three Pro Heroes. Wow." She helps you up and, this time, she's careful to keep her grip on you. No need to worry about cops. No need to flee the scene. Midnight goes the extra mile by making sure you have all of your belongings, in your purse or on your person, while Thirteen escorts everybody to a vehicle you are super disappointed to find looks nothing like a moon buggy. You hoped they might have a spacecraft, or even just some rockets strapped to the back of the car. Sadly, no. 

Before you know it, you're safely in the warm car, falling asleep listening to quiet radio music. You tune in and out of Cinder's jabbering with Midnight. "And then he said my quirk made me stink! Can you believe it?"

"You should have dumped his ass right then."

"Right? But he's kind of my wallet right now so, eh, better not. Instead, I told him it was his own stinky trash quirk giving off those fumes, I told him he should shave, and if he wants to appreciate how much maintenance I do to make this coochie pop for him, he ought to wax, too."

"Ladies, we have an incoming Villain report." Thirteen hands a phone off to Midnight, whose demeanor becomes immediately serious. This is work. She can change her tune instantly, the mark of a professional. "Two citizens in combat, quirks in use. It's coming up on our left."

"We should stop and help take care of this," says Midnight.

Cinder squeals.

"We have two passengers, one of which is a citizen and one of which is drunk. We should focus on getting them home."

"No," you say and lean forward to check the phone. You can't make out the details, but you can hear the catastrophe approaching, then repeated a few seconds later over the screen. "If you two are sober enough, we should stop. All I need to do to heal somebody is breathe if they're hurt, I can wait at the car if you need me. And Cinder will wait with me."

"Hell, no! I might not be a Hero, but I can get rowdy with the best of them! I'm a side-bench. If you need me, tag me in."

They won't because that's illegal and immoral, but they humor her because she's cute and drunk. Thirteen wheels the vehicle around, leaving you clinging and bracing for balance. Everything screeches to a halt and you file out of the car to get a look at the situation. 

The Villains, one male and one female, are both mutant types with sharp, aggressive features and hulking strength. Midnight is fearless, tearing her dress open and readying her whip. She distracts them from each other and the citizens trapped on the other side of the street by their bout. Her scent, sickly sweet, hazes over the ground. The male falls asleep.

The female starts chucking rebar and benches and concrete debris at the X-Rated Pro. She dodges, nimble and aware, leaving Thirteen to suck up the dangerous projectiles with her black hole before they hit anyone in the crowd. It's not a sustainable fight for Midnight, you realize. She will be tired, or make a mistake, and soon. There should be other Pros here.

"Where is everyone?" you ask Thirteen.

They shake their head, preparing to catch half of a motorcycle. "There have been tons of calls tonight. The patrols must have spread themselves too thin, or focused somewhere else."

"Somebody needs to call in a backup request before-- Cinder!"

Iron Kettle's moron daughter has her coat and leggings stripped off. In her ring gear, she runs full-force into the fray, becomes a smokescreen, and wraps herself around the female Villain. You panic and try to go to her, but Thirteen holds you back. Midnight takes full advantage of the unexpected help. When Cinder steps back again, you see Midnight's bullwhip lashed around the Villain's neck and arms.

Cinder tries to help pull their opponent down, but the whip snaps apart. The Villain charges.

Bam .

All Might.

The roar of the crowd is almost louder than his blow, but he is a hurricane incarnate. The fight ends, both criminals laying senseless in the street.

"That was close!" he thunders, laughing, getting the crowd to join in. Fear evaporates. It's always a party when All Might shows up. "Just thought I'd lend a hand while I was in the neighborhood!"

What a day for Cinder, who got away with using her quirk in combat, in public, and is punished by getting to shake hands with All Might. Midnight exchanges some brief thank you with the man, who brushes it off to search for you in the crowd. Thirteen waves. He waves back. 

He winks at you.

And then, like a dream that breaks the sound barrier, he is gone.

You wander back toward Thirteen's car, muttering as you go. "I wish I didn't love that man."

Chapter Text

1.

You wake up at five-thirty and force yourself to call Recovery Girl. Your phone bleeps against your ear, trying to dial through while you make tea in the dark. 

"L/N?"

"Chiyo," you rasp. "Hey. I might be a little late for work."

"Good lord, dearie, what happened to your voice?"

You sip some tea. Chamomile. Doesn't help much. "I went drinking above my belt level. I'm a yellow-belt at alcohol at best. Midnight is a triple black--" You cough into your fist and give up on being funny. "After that, I helped respond to some Villain calls and did some spot healing for the public. I must have really overdone it with my quirk. I don't remember much of it, really." But you got home safe, woke up in your bed and in pajamas, cozy as can be. Better luck than you've had lately.

She sighs. "Best you stay home today. I'm already at the school and I was considering calling to ask you not take public transportation."

"What's wrong?"

"A surge of Villain attacks, all through the night and into the morning. They look to be dying off, but I've been wrong about these things before. I came here straight from the hospital."

"You're overworked. I should just come in."

"I can tell from the way you're hissing at me that you wouldn't be much use in the office, anyway. Stay home today. It will all blow over. Oh, and dearie, I do have to apologize for being so resistant to keeping bedding in the storage room. As it turns out, an on-call room is exactly what we needed."

Damn. That woman deserves to retire. "Take it easy. I'll get better as fast as I can so you can take a real day off."

"Ah, what a nice fairy tale. Goodbye, dearie."

She lets you go. You curl up on the sofa with your drink to watch the news. Sure enough, there are a lot of incidents. All of them are minor, but they're constant and adding up. But this is nearing a major shift change for most agencies, so there will be fresh soldiers on the field in mere minutes. You watch All Might himself in a clip from last night, but not from the same incident you wound up at. He's still at it. That fool, surely overdoing it before he has class today. You decide to text him before you lay down for an extra hour or two of sleep.

-I won't be at the school today. Wrecked my throat healing after alcohol. I think Midnight got me to drink gasoline or something.

-Regardless, please be safe and pace yourself. There's water and snacks in the nursing office. Don't have them at the same time or you'll have a hard time digesting.

-Blankets, too. Tea. Take a nap. I'm about to.

You can't think of anything else to add, so you rest your head and watch the lighter news stories flash by.

2.

Ochako and Iida give Midoriya enthusiastic gestures of approval as the lights dim for him to give his presentation. Behind the podium, his legs tremble relentlessly. He prays his classmates cannot tell. He knows his teacher can. Mr. Aizawa huffs and rolls his eyes, eager to get this over with. He has every reason to doubt his mercy was worthwhile.

The projector comes on, blinding him. Midoriya takes his note cards and ducks out of the way, rubbing his eyes. Mezo Shoji apologizes and nudges the apparatus with his leg to line everything up with the whiteboard. The blood rushes through Midoriya's ears and he can taste every individual drop of his spit. It takes an eternity to load. What if it doesn't load? What if it corrupts, somehow, and he looks like a fool, and fails automatically?

But after a few sound clicks, his first slide comes to view. Deep breath. "My report is on the Reaper Family," he squeaks.

"We can't hear you!!" shouts Bakugou, whose feet are up on his desk.

Izuku makes himself calm down, checks his cards, and makes himself do this. He didn't practice all weekend for nothing. 

Within organized crime, there existed a lineage of assassins. Whether or not they shared a common bloodline is unconfirmed, but their similar quirks, matching names, and aesthetics suggest a link the police were never able to confirm. The first of these assassins was the Choking Reaper, who haunted Japan some sixty years ago. Izuku provides snapshots from old newspapers, glancing at Aizawa. His teacher, to Midoriya's relief, is absorbed in the information. Or maybe too tired to keep glaring. He can run with this.

He describes the very little known about Choking Reaper, who was only seen by Heroes, police, and the public in the dark. Witnesses report having a difficult time seeing the Villain, as if their image distorted. Anyone who got too close never got the chance to report anything again. Choking Reaper killed an estimated seventy people, twenty of whom were Pro Heroes. And while it might have been nice to see justice done to such an evil person, they suffered no legal punishments. They were murdered by their own underlings, who could no longer stand living fear of somebody they could defeat together. 

Years after, a second Reaper took up the title and mantle. Equipped with a quirk that emitted noxious gas and disoriented those who breathed it in, the Laughing Reaper made a name for themselves by assassinating several members of the Hero Council.

Midoriya clears his throat and looks to Aizawa before going to his next few slides. "The Laughing Reaper was apprehended by a married team of Heroes, Glass Petal and Reverse, and there was a news crew there. However, the unmasking went wrong because the Villain was wearing a collar bomb that nobody noticed. It was rigged to go off if the Reaper's identity was at risk. The blast killed both Heroes and several members of the news crew. I actually did find the video in the Public Safety Commission's archives, and I have part of it in the next slide. I cut it just before, um…"

Eraserhead nods. "That's fine."

Midoriya almost wishes he denied them the nightmare. He's seen it already, all of it, but Midoriya now sees the disgust and horror on his classmate's faces as they see the last few frames of several lives. A few of them gag. "Counting those lost to the bombing, Laughing Reaper killed fifty-three people, five of whom were Pro Heroes."

It's time to move on.

The last of the Reapers reigned over thirty years ago. The Sandman Reaper came to power when they assassinated twelve Heroes, ten of whom were the heads of their own agencies, at once. The Pros had gathered together for a regular meeting, only to be ambushed and euthanized.

Of all the Reapers, the Sandman had the most striking appearance. Unnaturally tall, as if on stilts, with a black robe that covers all visible skin, and a thick, leather plague mask. Midoriya plays footage of the Villain in motion, a rare sight even from a distance, but it reveals few details. All around the feet of the criminal is a toxic, red mist. The Poppy Field, as Sandman Reaper called it. 

"Sandman Reaper is the only one of the three to have fought All Might," says Midoriya as he prepares another video clip. "Actually, this was one of the first Villains he had to prepare for when he came back to Japan from training in America. Also unlike the others, the Sandman was an extremely outspoken Villain who regularly communicated to other Villains through web rallies. This is one of the most studied clips of the Villain, where they specifically call out All Might."

In a digitized voice, filtered through something in that hefty mask, the aged tones of Sandman Reaper. The footage is in desperate need of restoration. Some of it, Midoriya had to subtitle himself. But even with words missing here and there, the impression is one not soon forgotten. Sandman Reaper has unnatural, angry, spastic movements at the height of emotion. They twist, perhaps within their own skin, looking foul and aggressive.

"Welcome home, Hero. Did you enjoy your time at American University? While you were partying in sunny California, I was hard at work rocking your friends to sleep. I hated to do it to them, but naughty children need to be put to bed. And they weren't playing nice." They twist and roll, shuttering. "Neither are you. Such violence. You've come back to Japan more American than ever, doused in brutality and patriotic excuses. I bet… I bet you've killed more people than I have, All Might. I bet you're every bit the monster my soldiers say you are.

"Prove me wrong. Let's have a chat. Just you and me. Come speak to me in my Poppy Field. And once we're face to face, Hero? I'll surrender. I'll let you take me to Tartarus and throw me in the dark with everyone else you've forsaken, everyone else you don't love enough to rescue. All you have to do? Watch and listen."

The clip ends, and Midoriya moves on to the home stretch of his presentation. "The Sandman Reaper did arrange a time and place to meet All Might. However, once he was in range, Sandman began to remove their mask. All Might attacked before a collar bomb could go off, and backup was called in, but Sandman Reaper managed to escape in the chaos. There was never another appearance of this Reaper, and no successor in decades. At the time of their appearance, Sandman killed twenty-five people, all of whom were Professional Heroes." He clears his throat. Time to do or die. "While this assignment was to theorize how the Sandman Reaper might be caught, very little was ever discovered about how their quirk worked. I didn't manage to suggest much more than most college professors already land on, which is to keep to ranged tactics and wear as much protective gear as possible to minimize contact with the Poppy Field. 

"I did, however, come up with a theory that I didn't see in the Commission's archives or the detectives' notes. Sandman Reaper's creepy, contorted movements might be a side-effect of a quirk enhancement drug called Short Fuse." 

He compares a video clip of a Short Fuse addict with selected moments of Sandman Reaper footage. It's not a perfect fit, for the Reaper's covered legs do not move or give the way the example-man's do. But it is similar. "Short Fuse stopped being produced after most syndicates and criminal agencies switched to Trigger, which has fewer side-effects. Short Fuse remains in the user's system for a long time, especially with extended use. If this connection had been made at the time, hospitals and police stations could have been on the lookout for anyone in Short Fuse withdrawal, since it stopped being available shortly before the Reaper's confrontation with All Might.

"The long-lasting consequences of Sandman Reaper's work have mostly dissolved. Acts and missions targeting organized crime purged the last truly loyal Reaper followers, but probably were helped by the Villain never being heard from again."

He trips over his ending, he realizes, but as the lights come up, Aizawa talks to him with unexpected satisfaction. "Good work. Get the parts about your Short Fuse theory organized into a Council report and submit it. You should seek credit on your Hero file for that suggestion."

"R-really?!"

He did good. No, he did great! Midoriya is relieved to return to his seat, patted and acknowledged as he passes his classmates. Bakugou looks livid, however. Midoriya can't imagine why. Did he not like the sloppy wrap-up? Kacchan has higher standards. 

"Everyone get your gear and go to the bus. We're heading to the Unforeseen Simulation Joint for rescue training."

3.

"Back to school tomorrow," says F/N. 

Toshinori groans. "I don't feel like I even got a vacation. I still had to see Gran Torino every other day, and I still ended up having to do a bunch of extra reading. Ugh… We need to do something fun, fast. Before it's too late."

"Like what?"

He has no idea. He looks down at her, shrugs. "We could go see a movie?"

She turns her pockets out. "Don't exactly have a movie budget."

"Yeah, me neither."

They adjust to sit in front of the fan as it oscillates. Her breath is refreshing to him, like an extra chill on his skin. He lets her sit in front of him on purpose to take advantage of her quirk. And, perhaps, to watch the sweat drip down her back. He would never admit such a thing, not even to himself. "We could go to the beach?"

"We could go cook to death at the beach, sure, and get more sunburn and more sand in my shoes."

"Ok, ok. What about the aquarium or something? I don't think that costs money."

"Sharks," she says.

"See, we've talked about this. They're on that side of the glass, and you're on this side, and they can't get you."

"I don't know, Toshi, I'm a pretty tasty treat. It's gonna take more than a few see-through panes to keep a predator from munching on my sweet ass."

He tosses his book at her as she laughs. He wasn't looking at her butt, he convinces himself. And she didn't notice. She's just being funny. It's a joke.

This will be easier with school, with some distraction between them. Spending too much time together only illuminates for Toshi just how little self-control he has. How many times in the last week has he found an excuse to pull her hair or throw her around? Eventually, she'll figure out something is wrong. What if she doesn't want him touching her at all? What if she finds him creepy?

"Oh, I know." F/N rolls onto her stomach and faces him, her head resting on her arms. Those eyes are big and beautiful and dangerous. She must know how cute she is. "Let's make a blanket fort."

"… For real?"

"Yeah! I can't do it at home, I'll get in a ton of trouble. Who are you going to get in trouble with? Your landlord?" She hops up, already peeling cushions off his couch and trying to stack them into something unstable. 

Their construction project yields a lumpy tent of bedsheets, kitchen chairs, cushions and quilts. Toshi puts the finishing touch on their flimy castle by dragging the fan inside. A cool breeze, mixed with F/N's breath, shrouds both teens. A relief from heat. She lays belly-up and stretches for comfort. "Ah…"

And then the power goes out.

"Aw man."

"Hang on, let me get my phone out. There."

"Uh, Toshi… My phone has no signal." She taps her screen. "Like, none."

To his confusion, neither does he. "That's… probably nothing?"

4.

You awaken to the news, flashing in red and white, the low volume blaring in spite of the limits you've set. You rub your eyes. The nausea is gone, your throat is starting to improve. Sleep did wonders for you. You turn up the volume, trying to make sense of whatever nonsense dared stir you from dreams of bunnies and warm weather.

"Twenty Villains have been arrested so far in relation to the attack on U.A. and All Might."

The chill that shoots through you is agony, pure pain. Your lungs snap away in your chest, leaving you a breathless husk. You clutch your blankets. This cannot be.

"Two staff members were seriously injured in the attack, along with one student. At this time, U.A. has not disclosed further details."

You call Chiyo. She doesn't pick up.

You call All Might. He doesn't pick up.

Your hands shake, trying to find Aizawa's number. He always knows what's going on, he always keeps everyone organized. You are relieved when the line goes through. "Eraserhead, what--"

"This is Present Mic. Shouta is…"

No. No, no.

This can't be. This simply can't be. "What happened?!"

The voice Hero needs a moment, and you give it to him even though you're shaking and sick. "A group of Villains ambushed the kids, Thirteen and Aizawa at USJ. According to the kids, they were there to kill All Might. But he wasn't with them at first, and showed up later… They've taken Shouta and Thirteen to Musutafu General, but they might need to transfer them. It's bad, L/N. It looked…" His voice, ever-grand, fails him.

"I'm going to the hospital right now," you say and throw your day clothes on. Anything. You don't care if you look stupid, you don't have time to waste. "What about the student?! The news said one of the kids was hurt?"

"Midoriya Izuku."

"Fuck!!" You tear the receiver from your mouth too late, the grief washing over you. Of course. Of course it has to be him. Please, please just be a mis-report and a broken finger. And please let the damage Present Mic thinks is so horrid be superficial, be fixable and fine. Please, please. "How?! Who the fuck did this?!"

"We don't know. There was a leader, covered in severed hands or something. Skinny, angry. A disintegration quirk."

No.

"He was with a guy who could open portals and had some kind of dark, cloud body."

No, no. 

"And they brought a monster. Something they called Nomu."

This is your fault.

This is your doing.

You hang up. 

You call Cinder. "Get your father on the phone!"

"F/N hunnie? Bitch… Bitch it's noon, let me just sleep."

"Get Iron Kettle on the phone right fucking now!" you scream. The tears bubble over in your already raw throat. "Tell your father he needs to condemn the attack!"

"What are you talking about?"

"Right fucking now, Cinder! He needs to condemn this or they'll do it again! Somebody else is going to see it, and they're going to try again, and it's going to get children killed!"

"Stop yelling at me! What the fuck are you talking about?!"

"God fucking dammit, Cinder, you stupid slut!" you wail, sinking to your knees in front of the news as they repeat how they know nothing, nothing, nothing. "Can't you ever be sober when I call you?! Every time I need you, you fuck me over! Just call your goddamn father!!" You hang up on her and throw your phone across the room. You almost hope it's broken.

You need to get to the hospital. You need to fight through this panic attack and get to the hospital.

Get it together.

You did this. You killed them.

Fuck, fuck, fuck!

You plunge your face under the coldest water your sink can conjure, tearing your mind from the loops upon loops of torture. You can have a meltdown later, after you've done your job. You grab your phone, which seems to still function, and race out the door.

Chapter Text

1.

The sun's final rays wither behind the Musutafu cityscape. The lanterns flick on beside you, sensing the darkness. Faster , you bid your feet, your wicked ankle. It's only a bit further. Faster . The hillside melts. You reach the gates to find a police vehicle, all lights off, and a cop escorting two passengers gently into the back seat. Before it's too late, you use your dry, ragged throat and scream, "Midoriya! Wait!" Two green-haired individuals halt for you.

Blearily, Izuku waves to you. He is on crutches, and one of his hands is wrapped up past the wrist. You skid to a halt, wanting with every fiber of your being to hug this reckless, lucky, mad young man. Alive. He's alive. "Nurse L/N," he mumbles, his smile a weak, warped crescent. 

"Oh, darling!" You hover low, examining the extent of the damage. "Is it painful?"

"No, Recovery Girl gave me something. I'm just tired." He is far too proud of himself for a child who narrowly survived an assault on his school. "I'm sorry I didn't use your inhaler. I had to give it to, um… to somebody else."

"Don't worry about that." Although, you do wish he'd mitigated some of this damage. He was supposed to be working on preserving himself. How far will this trauma set him back? "Go home and sleep, remember to drink plenty of water. If you need aspirin, you can always see us in the Nursing Office."

"I know," he yawns. He thanks you and is ushered into the back of the car by both the officer and a woman who looks as tired as you feel.

You clear your throat. Not much voice left, but this is important. "Excuse me, but would you happen to be his mother?"

"I… yes." She bows to you. "I'm Inko Midoriya."

You hope you're far enough from the boy to avoid being overheard. He's had an emotional enough day, you bet. "Forgive me, I just wanted to tell you… Your son saved my life last Fall. You have raised perhaps the most considerate, kind, brave child I've ever met. And thank you. Thank you for…" You don't know what more to say, motioning to the air around this horrible day. Thank you for coming to get him. Thank you for being a parent who loves your child. Thank you for not coming unglued when, in the same situation, you would not have shown the same grace.

You hug her and she cries, very briefly, into your sleeve. "Thank you for helping care for my son," she whimpers.

You make sure both of them are in and comfortable, and even work up the courage to nod at the officer in a sympathetic way before you part ways. There goes a future Hero, if only he can survive long enough to get his license. There goes his mother with the patience of a saint. 

You sprint into the school, cross the barrier, and abuse your floating skills to shoot up the stairs. It's urgent. You must hurry. You must get to your office. 

Your fingers lock around the frame and you nearly fall inside, wheezing, trembling. "Chiyo?"

"Shh." 

Your old mentor, in her coat and yesterday's clothes, pressures you to leave the office before you really enter. You peek inside, noticing the curtains partially drawn over one bed, and a pair of long, gaunt feet propped up on the footboard. Once you are both in the hall, she shuts the door. "I just got him to sleep now that Midoriya is gone. Best to let him have it, every second. He needs it more than ever."

If you had taken that rotten boy's Hero-killing fantasies seriously, this would never have happened. Your chest is filled with hornets, biting their way up your throat and tongue. "How bad?" you manage. It's an unintelligible hiss, but she reads your lips or she simply knows your fears. 

"He took serious damage to his vulnerable  side. In addition to how far he'd pushed himself already, it's made a mess of the man. He's convinced he's lost significant time in his ability to transform and I don't doubt him. It's a miracle we didn't lose All Might all together this time."

And next time? Will he be so fortunate?

Let there be no next time.

Let there be no mercy. 

"You need to go home," you tell her.

"Young lady, I am your supervisor. You are not mine." But she adjusts her shawl and rolls her shoulder. "I'll be back tomorrow. We all will be."

"You can't be serious."

She keeps eye contact, shaming you for cowardice.

"There was an attack, by dozens of Villains, on school grounds… and class is in session tomorrow? We just plow forward, ignoring this? What about security?!"

"Detectives have crawled over every inch of this place and they're certain it won't be done again. The strongest message we can send is that this did not deter us, we are not scared, and we will continue on as normal."

You want to argue with her but you hold your tongue. Inside, you are deterred. You are scared. This is anything but normal. But she needs to be home and you need to be here, keeping some sort of watch over Toshinori while he recovers what little strength he has left. "Then I'll see you in the morning," you rasp.

"Good night, dearie."

"Good night." She goes, step by step, her themed cane clicking on polished floor tiles. Tap. Tap. Tap.

You wait a few moments before opening the office door. Just an inch. You listen. Heavy, slow, steady breathing. You open it further, not enough to activate the squeaky part of the hinge, and peek at Toshinori. His eyes are closed. He is settled on the bed, against fresh sheets, with an IV in his arm and bandages all around his torso and shoulder. He's been through hell, through a war.

And where were you?

Taking a nap the day after aiding his enemies.

You close the door again and slink up to the roof. 

The moon is bright and clear, but lonesome. Velvet coats the sky, not a fleck of starlight to be seen. You walk to the edge, leaning on it, watching the world turn. Waiting for the worst part to come. Suffocating silence deafens, the thoughts occupy you. This tranquil night deserves to be somebody's last.

You are old and out of practice, but you can bring yourself back to your volatile state with just a thought. Even stripping the meat from your neck, the marrow from your bones, will not stop you from giving your soon-to-be-former patient his eternal rest. You'll make it nightmarish. You'll take his obedient dog down, too, assuming he breathes. And if he doesn't? He will be unlucky if he does not have lungs. You will carve open a cavity where some might perfectly fit, how is that?

Will the big, bad wolf take notice of you culling his piglets? Oh, you hope so. You fucking hope so. Because if he wants to come have a word in person, you'll gladly give him a few hundred lungfuls. And a scalpel in the side to let it all leak back out.

You need to slow down, pull back, return to reality. You are suggesting murder. You've been down that path before, and you know it never leads anywhere you want to go.

Just this once, though? Just this once, you should do it. You should remind the world there are certain obvious guidelines that must be followed. Remind them there are consequences even for demons.

"I thought I might find you up here."

You freeze. You never heard the roof access door open. Toshinori, in slippers and spare, hospital pajamas Recovery GIrl must have given him from your storage supply, staggers to your side. He braces some of his weight on his hands, against the same ledge you're leaning on. Musutafu's golden-brown haze is splattered with flashes of neon and white. It swells in the center and spills over, creeping past the border a little more every year. You don't know if he sees it in the same light. You don't know if he sees it at all.

"It's been a long day, huh? I'm sorry I missed your phone call. By the time I got to it, you weren't picking up."

You rasp, "I was in the hospital."

He nods, not looking at you, not moving closer, but stalwart. "You went to help Eraserhead and Thirteen."

You thought you were exhausted this morning. Thirteen managed to come out of this disaster with wounds from their own quirk. Whether every nerve will function properly again or not, only time can tell.

And Eraserhead… You rest your forehead on the building and wish Toshinori was gone so you could scream without guilt, without somebody seeing how the grief bloodies your neck and spills off your lips. He will live, but you can't be sure he will live well. His eyes. His precious eyes, smashed. Reconstruction went miraculously well, but whether that will let him retain his quirk? You don't know. You fear he will lose his sight, and then what might become of him? Once, you had plans to keep everyone from ever having to worry about the aftermath. Once, you tried to guarantee peace of mind even to those who might die in the morning. And now, here you are, unable to promise anything to anyone. 

Somehow, he is steady. He looks for the spot where the dawn will come, fearless.

You try to speak, but everything is a whisper now. "I know we haven't been friends in a long time. I know I can't ask you things the way I used to when we were young. But--"

"Why not?" His voice, a whisper to match your own, is painfully near. He puts an arm around you, tucking you against his less wounded side. This man has less mass than he once did, but the warmth remains. "I want to listen. Tell me anything."

"I don't know if I've ever been this… upset before. I can't even identify what I'm feeling. I'm so angry, so beyond hatred. And yet, there's this awful hollow spot. Terror eats through me. And I need you to talk me out of doing something foolish because, Toshi, more than anything, I want to turn this pain into something reckless."

His deep sigh fills the space between you. You aren't sure how you end up with your head on his chest. You aren't sure this moment is real. "I can't imagine how hard it is, to always arrive after the danger has ended. You're always tasked with putting the pieces back together. But you never get to start with yourself."

"Look in a mirror. When have you ever, ever, ever thought about yourself first?"

He laughs. Toshinori rests his head on top of yours, but only for a moment. He lifts himself and tries to get you standing straight. "I know you must be horrified because all you've seen is the damage and the wounds. But F/N, if you saw what I did? You would be so proud of them. You would be overflowing with hope and trust in this coming generation. Every single one of our students fought with everything they had to preserve themselves and each other. They rescued their teachers. They rescued me."

"They should never have been put in this position."

"Of course not. But they were. And they rose to the occasion. These kids have proven themselves more worthy of the title 'hero' than some Pros do in a lifetime of work." Every word resonates, emboldened by his tremendous passion. This version of him, rendered thin and tired, blooms with a vitality you rarely expect in dying men. In this moment, he pushes through his inner darkness to lend you his light. He is not in the recesses of his mind. He is here. He is at your side. "And besides, it isn't as if we never faced horrifying odds at their age."

"Not at the school. Here, we were safe. I understand all bets are off in the streets, but they're supposed to be untouchable behind these walls."

He shakes his head. "They aren't here to hide. They're here to learn. And today? They didn't just educate themselves. They taught the world not to underestimate how strong the young and righteous can be."

2.

"All right. It's good to see you've all managed to make it to class today. I understand that wasn't easy with the situation in Musutafu." Gran Torino adjusts a series of mirrors to project light into the classroom. The sun rises on the opposite side of the building from your classroom, and there are too few candles to go around. "The school's backup generators are fully functional, so you'll still have access to water and our security features work, but most of the computers and networks are down, and we've been encouraged to save electricity wherever we can. Make due."

"Sir, do you know what's going on?"

"I haven't been able to get the news anywhere. Was this from a Villain attack?"

Torino hushes the teens before their rabble grows out of control. Tensions are high. In this heat, many have had to go without showers and fans. "There was an attack on the power grid, yes. It looks to be a controlled strike, but no organizations have come forward to claim credit. As for when electricity will be back? Hopeful estimates stand at three days."

They chatter among themselves, disgusted and annoyed, worried and afraid, angry and frustrated. But nobody hates this situation the way Toshinori does. You can see it in his balled fists, and in the way he glares at his desk, and in the tug at the corner of his lip. It does that before he starts bawling, but you don't think he's going to cry. You think he's going to scream.

He's been like this ever since he popped out yesterday to ask his mentor about the outage. Toshi was as light on details as Gran Torino, but you figure there isn't much more to know. This was intentional. This was an act of terror and cruelty. This could kill people.

"Get your books out, turn to chapter seven."

You read without absorbing one word of information. Your half of the room is dim, straining your eyes, straining your patience. It's hot. There's sweat running down your thighs. You adjust and find your legs sticking to the seat, so you have to peel your skin away. Another attempt to get through these passages results in staring at paper thoughtlessly.

"This is stupid!"

Everyone looks up, but nobody is as surprised as you are to see Toshinori Yagi stuffing his papers back into his bag before standing beside his desk to face Torino's ire head-on. "We're not helping anyone by sitting in here. People are out there right now, scared, waiting for answers and water. We should be organizing! We should be filling water bottles here and giving them to the public, and using batteries to get essential electronics charged, and escorting the elderly and vulnerable to cooler environments."

Gran Torino scowls, surely about to discipline your best friend for suggesting the class, god forbid, go do the right thing. You shoot up, floating by your desk with one hand locked on the corner. "I agree! The Heroes who are out there now are overwhelmed with the work they do every day. The least we can do is keep everyone informed and together."

Of all people, Kazan Dansa is the third to join your crusade. He combs his hair back with his fingers as he speaks to Torino. Toshinori, overwhelmed by the support for his idea, stares dumbfounded. "I, for one, can't possibly focus on math or literature while the public panics at our doorstep. We cannot look like respectable Heroes if we sit cowering in the dark. Water and batteries is a good start."

It's only a moment before all twenty-odd teenagers in the room are clamoring to throw their gear on and race into the streets. Toshinori stands at the front, staring his teacher down, putting aside all the fear you know he still suffers to rise to this occasion. 

Gran Torino scoffs. "You little shits think you're going to help anybody? Not as you are now. You're sloppy idealists, every one of you." But after an adjustment of his neck and shoulders, he smiles. None of you have seen that before. Not even Toshinori, you suspect, for his mouth hangs open at the sight. "All of you! Get in your costumes, then grab a radio. Today, you're going to learn firsthand what it takes to be Plus Ultra."

3.

Above, the glittering stars suspended in a wine-dark ocean. Below, the reef of civilization, blazing and blaring. Here, a quiet truce to a cold war. Your hand finds his. You slip your fingers between his as best you can, every bit of you eclipsed by him. At his weakest, his strength still awes.

Your hand remembers the perfect way to curl into his. It's a homecoming decades in the making.

"Are you going to go home?" You turn his forearm. This man is adept at removing his IV, his skills seven years in development. "You should get all the rest you can."

"I'll go back to the nursing office to lay down if I need to. What about you?"

"I don't know if I'll ever sleep again."

"Do you want to stay here tonight?"

"I already planned to."

"F/N, you should get something to drink," he says, pitying your voice. 

You should, you suppose. You fling your purse off without letting him go and pick through, wondering if you have any juice pouches left. You scowl, for you have no such luck, and set the can of peppermint beer out on the ledge. It's warm. "I hope I don't get in trouble for having this on school grounds. I forgot I had it with me. I didn't get to leave it with my former boss, like I'd planned…"

He squeezes closer to you and takes the beer, looking it over with apprehension. "Is it any good?"

"No."

"Hah! That bad?" He steals his grip from you so he can open it, and he smells it. "It has a nice bouquet."

It does not. It has a mouthwash-and-piss bouquet. "Please don't drink that. You'll make yourself sick."

"I can have just a sip, that won't do anything." He lifts it, pausing as you gasp, loving your horrified reactions. "I'll just try a little."

He does.

He hums, nods, puts the can down next to you. Swallows. You gag a little.

But Toshi only chuckles. "You know, it's not bad."

"You're kidding! I can't get you to eat a protein bar, but you'll drink chemical-x right in front of me?"

"Hey, I mostly like it for the peppermint. It tastes how you smell."

He stops himself too late. You stare at him, your mouth open. You smell like toxic beer? The taste your quirk leaves on his tongue is that abominable? No wonder they called you Halitosis Girl at camp, damn.

Toshi clears his throat. "I didn't mean it like that. I mean, it was a compliment! And I don't… If I could taste you, I… How about I go grab you some juice from the nursing office?"

He's running away. It will be a miracle if he comes back with that juice instead of bailing through a window and heading for the hills. "Yeah, that sounds wonderful. I need to make a quick phone call while you're gone. I had a bit of a meltdown this morning, after I saw the news, and I said some wretched things to a dear friend. I need to apologize."

"I'll take my time, then. Be back in a moment."

Yeah, he's not coming back. He shuts the door and you suck up your pride, find Cinder among your contacts, and call. It rings a few times, enough that you think you'll be sent to voicemail. She might be too angry to deal with you right now, and you wouldn't blame her. You crossed lines.

On the fifth ring, she picks up. "F/N? Hunnie?"

"Cinder, I'm so sorry about what I said this--"

"Oh god, F/N, no! I need to apologize to you! I feel like such a horrible, stupid bitch. I saw the news right after you hung up, and I… Daddy broke his phone yelling and had to use Papa's, and Papa practically came out of retirement he was so angry. He melted the carpet. Mom is still trying to get them to be rational because Daddy is threatening to cut ties and boil the whole ocean over this."

You trusted Iron Kettle would be mad at the endangerment of children, but you didn't expect such a visceral reaction. "It sounds like you've had your hands full."

"You don't know the half of it. I would have called you earlier and told you how sorry I was, I really meant to— but I had to deal with four people having meltdowns at once."

The math doesn't quite work for you. Kettle, Slag, Red River… " Four ?"

"My boyfriend's kid was one of the students who was in the class that got attacked! His kid isn't even the one who got hurt, but he's distraught over it. I've gotta let you go pretty quick, actually, so I can go be a mom and make sure he and the kiddo are eating."

Whiplash. "Wh… Y… Who is your…?"

"I'll talk to you later, F/N hunnie. Don't worry, Daddy knows what to do about this. Night-night."

Long after she's hung up, you are left staring at your phone and wondering who the hell Cinder is fucking. A parent of a 1-A student? Who?

"Hey, are you alright? Did your phone call go okay?"

Toshinori's return startles you, leaving you juggling your phone, almost flinging it over the edge of the roof. "Nothing! I mean good . I mean yes ."

He has pillows and blankets tucked under his arm, along with some juice and snacks. He tosses all of them on the roof, up against the wall housing the stairwell door, and invites you to come closer. "I figured we could stay up here and enjoy the sky for a while. The weather is beautiful, clear. Stars everywhere." He looks heavenward, scanning, reverent. "I won't get to see many more like this."

You lay beside him, wishing to close the distance again, to find his fingertips. His hands are laced together on his chest, rising and falling with his breath. You've little breath left to share in this state, but after a drink you puff out a healing mist. Anything you can offer, it's his. 

Thoughts of death hang around his head like your cloud. "You'll stick around after I'm gone, won't you? Especially for young Midoriya? I think he's going to handle this the worst of everyone."

You think so, too. "That boy has a special place in your heart, doesn't he?"

"…" Which star is he looking at? You ponder over all the brightest ones, all the blues and whites burning to death for billions of years, trillions of light-years away from you and each other. 

"He reminds me of you. When we were young, you were just like that. So earnest, and thoughtful, and ready to grow."

"He's not exactly like me," Toshi insists. "For one, he needs to stop crying so much."

You howl with laughter. You roll over and slap the roof, gasping up your clouds, accidentally spitting up a banana-yellow fog.

"What?! Why is that funny?"

He doesn't see it? What fucking delusion is he living in? You wipe the tears from your own eyes, roll onto your belly, and stare at the clueless Symbol of Peace. "He doesn't cry much more than you did."

"Wh-- he does! It feels like every time I turn around, he's just… just consumed by some wave of great emotion."

"I carried tissues everywhere I went for three years because you used to well up at everything."

"That isn't true."

"Toshi, it's completely true."

He frowns and looks down, as if into his mind, as if he can examine himself if only his eyes could pivot in the sockets and get a better look at his brain. "Is it really? I… I can't imagine. I haven't cried in years."

"You liar."

"I mean it. Not even when…" He runs his hand over the massive scar, the site of his worst agony.

That cannot be true. You know All Might is all smiles and joy, but Toshi has always been sensitive to every emotion. The idea of him keeping a stiff upper lip through being ripped to shreds does not comfort you. It kills you. What has he done to his psychology? "When was the last time?"

After a moment, he settles on something. He does not share his thoughts right away. He watches the stars. "Just before college."

"You're kidding."

"I'm not. After my mentor was killed, I… I promised myself I was done with that. No more tears. Because it's what she would have wanted, you know?"

You don't. You met the woman a few times, briefly, but you never knew her. Not like Toshi did. However, you suspect she would not approve of her beloved pupil emotionally numbing himself to this degree. She loved him like her own son, after all.

"F/N?"

"Yeah?"

"Today, during the Villain attack… I showed up late because I'd already used up all my time to be All Might. Like a fool, my mistake nearly cost all of them their lives. And we can't say how Eraserhead and Thirteen will come out of this. Things got bad, fast. This monster they had with them, Nomu… It managed to match me in raw physical power."

You can't imagine. You can't fathom what his limits are, for they tower so far above you. "How did you defeat it?"

"I nearly didn't. It caught me in the side, thanks to the help of some dirty tricks from its friends. I was bleeding in front of those kids, seconds from dropping my form and blowing everything, losing everyone. But then?" He reaches into his pocket, takes the little object, and drops it into your waiting hand. It's an inhaler from your Medibag. "Young Midoriya threw me this."

"I… Did it work?"

"It worked enough. I went from feeling like it was over to deciding I had another ten, maybe twelve minutes left in me." He tests the sensitivity of his reopened wound, winces, and arranges himself to lean on his other side. The solid roof isn't the most comfortable place to rest, and he would be better off in a cot downstairs. "I ended up needing nine. And once I dropped into this form, there was no going big again, so I guess I lost out on those last three minutes or so."

"You really shouldn't measure everything in 'All Might Time'."

"It's hard not to. I wait all day and night just so I can feel like myself for a few seconds."

"Hey. You are always yourself. You don't suddenly become nobody when you stop smiling and remove the suit."

"I might as well." He groans. "You should hear the way people talk when they see me, not even knowing I used to be better-looking. I get a lot of stares, and then a lot of… pity, I guess."

"Toshi, I don't think you understand your own gravity. How everything you say and do can have so much weight, even when you're nowhere to be seen." You know that crushing power all too well. You have been on the receiving end of the drop too many times to deny its existence. 

He's blind to his influence. He's wearing All Might colored glasses and whines, "I wish I could be invisible whenever I'm not All Might. At least then, I wouldn't have to look at this every morning in the bathroom mirror."

"I don't know, Toshi. You've got a face I'd happily wake up next to every day."

His knuckles brush yours. You don't hesitate at the chance to interlace. "I'll probably be the first thing you see tomorrow."

Good. It's been too long since you had a sleepover with your best friend. And just as he said, he doesn't have many nights like this left.

"… Did you see any news this morning, from before the USJ incident?"

"No. Why?"

"Shock and Awe are retiring. It's their gift to themselves to celebrate thirty years of marriage."

"Really?" He rolls the thoughts and memories around in his mind. "Good for them. They deserve to enjoy their golden years together."

"They're five years younger than we are."

"… Are they really?"

"Mhm."

And in a different life, that could be you. You could be celebrating three decades of bliss with Toshinori, waking up next to him in the morning, kissing him and forcing him to suffer your morning breath. Breakfast, then just each other. Just this warm, safe feeling you get in his hold. So in love. So far from lonely.

Here in reality, you lay back down and watch the sky next to him. You squeeze his hand, but your grip is so much weaker than his, and you doubt he notices. "Heroes never really retire. They just sit on the bench for a while and wait for an excuse to make their comeback."

Chapter Text

1.

"Good morning." 

It's been a long time since he woke to somebody's voice. It reminds him of being hospitalized, of hearing the routines of his loved ones without any ability to respond to them. He flings his hand over his mouth, sits up too fast, and grunts. No breathing tubes, he realizes, but his side aches.

Yesterday's madness floods him. The Villain attack, the wounds, the night spent sleeping on the roof next to F/N. No wonder his back hurts. The sun has yet to rise, just a copper necklace on the horizon. Leftover sleep stings his eyes and the process of waking leaves him coughing and disoriented. If this was his car or his bedroom, or even his office, he would be more comfortable. His whole body feels bent slightly to the left and stuck out of shape.

"Have some water." But then there she is, and it's not a bad morning at all. F/N hands him a cold bottle, and sets to work getting him on his feet. He doesn't need it, but the extra balance is nice, and the sensation of her tucked under his arm is wonderful. "Let's head down to the nursing office and get you into something daytime appropriate. And check your stitches while we're at it."

He would protest, but his ribs know better than his mouth and put a hasty stop to prideful decisions. "Let me help pick this up."

"It's not going to rain for a while, I'll come back and get the blankets myself later. I'm sure it will be fine for a bit," she says and opens the door. He slips in after her, watching her hand graze the rail as she floats down. The ankle, he supposes. She didn't take her brace off to sleep, and he hopes that doesn't bother her. 

He finishes the water off, and tosses the bottle into a recycling bin. Perfect shot! Still got it. "Thanks, I needed that."

"Any time. You know where to find me if you get thirsty again."

"All Might? L/N?"

Both addressed turn to see Vlad King, the co-head of Heroics and homeroom teacher for Class 1-B. Toshinori waves, glad to see they aren't the only ones up bright and early, but confused why he's so shocked. F/N is early most mornings, isn't she? No surprise to see your co-workers at work. "Hey."

"… There's a meeting," he says, gesturing toward the conference room. "Nedzu wants you there, All Might. Twenty minutes."

"Of course. I'll be there, just need to change… clothes…" Oh, that might explain the weird look. Spare pajamas. Right. "I, uh, I spent the night here under observation! I didn't bring another outfit, so I had to make due."

"You were here under observation?" He points to the stairwell. "Then, what were you doing on the roof?"

"Getting a breath of fresh air." 

He glances to F/N for help, but she only shrugs. Vlad nods along, clearly not believing his claims and All Might can't imagine why. "I'll see you in twenty minutes. Nurse L/N, good morning. I'd like to talk to you later, in private."

"Of course!" she pips. "I'll be in the office all day, assuming nothing catastrophic happens to call me away. Not that I'm expecting that to happen. I'm not. Everything is fine." She starts floating toward her office, abandoning Toshinori in conversational limbo with Vlad King. "All day, I'll be there! That's where you'll find me!"

Toshinori offers his fellow teacher an awkward grin, to which Vlad shakes his head. "I see you took Eraserhead's advice and got into L/N's good graces."

"I… I did, I suppose."

He gestures toward the conference. "I'm gonna go. You should… dress."

He should. Embarrassed, he hurries after Ann, following her trail of little wisps. He finds her rapidly juggling tasks, putting out clothes for him while gargling mouthwash and booting the office computer. After spitting into the trash, she remarks, "Sorry for the morning breath."

"Oh, you don't need to apologize. I like it," he says, enjoying the scent of fresh lawn clippings. 

She laughs, nervous. "That's a weird… Anyway, there's a track suit here that should last until you get to your agency. Maybe you'll want to consider keeping spares here, in case there's ever another overnight."

The grim possibility cannot be allowed. All Might will not permit the kind of danger that happened yesterday to befall this school again while he still draws breath. Never.

Even so… he does spit up a lot of blood. An extra shirt or two may prove convenient. 

2.

Your Medibag mask seals nicely to your face, the indicators blip to let you know it's filled up, and you stop blowing. It's a marvelous little invention, but it has limitations. You can pack your quirk, tight and concentrated, into portable containers for others who might not be near you when the time arises, and you can give direct care to anyone close enough to tether to the bag. But like most machines, it can't handle the upper register of your quirk— when you start charging up and outputting dangerous dosages. You can't fit enough of your quirk into an inhaler to fully heal a broken femur, of course. Just enough to, maybe, set it in place and wait for medical transport without being in searing pain. Attempting to force the cannisters past full breaks them, letting plumes of breath flood out.

Today, you haven't broken anything. Yet. You set the Medibag aside, hung on the door by the storage room, and check the clock. Recovery Girl is running later. Maybe she overslept. You hope she sleeps through the entire day, for her own sake. 

Yesterday feels like months ago, but last night still clings to your clothes. The stars fading, clouds growing and yawning at the birth of dawn, and the softest snores you've heard in ages. Toshinori doesn't smile much when he's out of his superhuman disguise, but at least the scowl abates when he's asleep. More peace might do him well. More sleep definitely would. Were it not for how important school is today, you might have stayed there with him indefinitely. 

No knock, but your door slams against the wall and whips back as a student enters. Bakugou catches it before the edge wacks him in the face, but his expression suggests something worse got to him first. "You got any aspirin?"

"I do," you encourage, gesturing for him to sit on the cot. He stands instead, pressing one thumb to the left side of his head, and a few fingers over the bridge of his nose. "Headache?"

"Ch."

You take that as a 'yes'. Once the digital form is as filled as you need it to be, and you've double-checked the listing for his quirk, you wheel around and get some gloves on. You tilt his head to and fro, placing pressure where he kept his fingers. When you speak, he glares at you, but not right in the eye. Just sort of toward you. "How long has it been hurting?"

"Since this morning. I didn't get hurt in the attack, if that's what you're griping about."

He has you figured out. You should have figured. You nod, then go to fetch some aspirin and a drink from your fridge. "I know it's not a healthy, doctor-approved suggestion, but caffeine will help this kick in faster."

He takes the pill with a gulp of Crimson Energy. You expect him to leave immediately for class, because of every student you've gotten to know, Bakugou strikes you as the least willing to put up with pleasantries. You are happy and surprised when he sticks around, though you wish his pain could fade faster. The little puffs of your breath in the air will help. "Do you get a lot of headaches?"

Again, he makes a point of giving you that look when you speak to him. "The hell does it matter to you?"

You can't help it, he makes you smile. He's bold to accuse a medic of not having reason to care about a patient. "Would you like the school-nurse answer, or the real-world Medical Hero answer?"

"Do I look like a fucking baby? The real answer, damn!"

"I have some concerns about your quirk causing you subtle, long-term physical damage. Your body is uniquely equipped to withstand your own explosions, but that doesn't mean you're immune to their force."

"Of course I know that! I know how to manage debris and I know what my limits are better than you do."

"I don't doubt that. But you…" Once you realize what it is that's bothering you, it stings all the more. "You remind me of Jade Cannon, whose quirk involved having a lot of powerful blasts close to their head, often. Years of it. And while there was never any one explosion we could point to and blame, the damage added up. They lost hearing on their cannon side, and even before that there was evidence of subconcussive impact damage."

He frowns, confused by something, so you slow yourself down. "They're like micro-concussions. Alone, not enough damage to be considered or seen as a real injury. But eventually, you still experience concentration and memory issues, mood swings. And if you aren't careful about managing this damage now, when you're young, you could develop Chronic Traumatic Encephalopathy as young as seventeen. That's the rest of your life with depression and other brain-chemical problems, and it can lead to early onset dementia."

Maybe you scared him too much. It's not as if you're certain about this diagnosis. He should see a family doctor, and there should be some real tests done. The kind you don't have access to here at U.A. unless Recovery Girl wants to request a specialist to come in. Bakugou doesn't say anything, but he finishes his drink, crushes it, and tosses the can deftly in a recycling bin out in the hall. "I'll keep that in mind," he says. He folds his hands into his jacket pocket, glances at the clock. It's another ten minutes before school starts. He stays put. "When was Mister Aizawa supposed to be back?"

Ah. You definitely didn't need to frighten him with the threat of chronic pain when Eraserhead is on his mind. These poor students. "It's hard to say. Doctors and surgeons are confident he's going to recover enough to come back to teaching, but it could be months. I doubt it will be long before the hospital lets him have visitors, though, so you'll be able to ask him yourself soon enough."

"… No, I mean, was he supposed to be back already? Because he's in the teacher's lounge."

"Excuse me?"

Katsuki points with his thumb toward his homeroom. "I passed him on my way here."

Oh hell no.

You float through the hall, past several classrooms, fuming with premature rage. And there he is. Like a mummy, with both arms in slings, with his entire face bandaged, shuffling toward 1-A. You block his way. He glares at you from between strips of gauze. "How did you get here?" you ask him. "Who knows you're here?"

"I checked myself out and took the bus."

"Wh-What?! You can't do that!"

"Too bad, I already did." He tries to slide around you. You have no trouble blocking him again.

You clear your throat. "Allow me to rephrase. I will not allow you to do this. I know for a fact you are in no condition to be working, let alone out of bed."

He nudges you aside and you bounce off the wall. "You've got some gall to think you have any authority to stop me. You're not in charge of me or my health, L/N. I'm not about to get behind schedule on this stupid fucking curriculum just because some cloud pixie thinks she knows my limits better than I do."

He's high. He's high on painkillers and he thinks he's invincible. "Eraser, I don't want to sedate you, but I--"

He uses his quirk on you.

You fall on your ass, thankfully not your ankle this time, gawking as he flees. The nerve! He makes it all the way to his classroom and shuts the door, probably locks it, before you can catch up. Which means this is officially out of your hands. As much as you want to charge in and kick his ass, you're not about to whoop on a wounded educator in front of his traumatized students. And he probably knows it, the clever fuck. 

Fist balled, you return to the nursing office and are regrettably glad to find Recovery Girl inside, removing her jacket and switching from walking shoes to slippers. When she sees you, she jumps. "Dearie, what is wrong?!"

"Eraserhead is here."

"…" She looks around the nursing office. "No? He isn't?"

"In his classroom. Teaching."

"No, he isn't."

"Yes, he is. He claims to have left the hospital all on his own."

In all of an instant, your cold rage becomes hers. She adjusts her posture, both hands on her cane, head tilted ever so slightly, and says, "Really?" Which is how you know Aizawa is in for the beating of a lifetime once Chiyo gets her hands on him. "I'll be making a few phone calls to Musutafu General, then. F/N?"

You clear your throat. "Yes, ma'am?"

"I thought you said you enjoyed being vindictive and forceful with patients. I'm a little disappointed I'm the one who has to deal with this."

You are, too. You're an old woman, but your mentor is still around to shame you for passing your work. It seems a bit unfair. "If it wasn't in front of the kids, ma'am, I would tear him a new asshole."

She nods, but her mood is shot, and she waves for you to give her space. "Go take a break. You've been dealing with All Might all night, I imagine you must be tired. I'd rather sort out this issue with Eraserhead than suffer another twelve-hour shift of his protests and whining."

Ah, shit. Last night. "Thanks," you mutter, and hurry toward the roof access door. You forgot all about cleaning up the bedding from last night, and you need to get everything off the roof before it rains. A sour plummet to what had been a lovely morning. 

It gets worse.

You hurry toward the blankets and find Vlad King standing among the sheets and pillows, holding his meeting notes, shaking his head at you. "This looks like more than 'a breath of fresh air' to me."

Ashamedly, you begin picking up your mess. "Looks are deceiving. We spent some time stargazing because I didn't want to be inside. That's all."

"Look, I don't really care. I doubt any of us do— it isn't like we don't turn the other way with personal lives from time to time. But if the two of you are involved with one another, you shouldn't--"

"We are not." You stand up, clutching the bedding, feeling the heat on your face. You pray he sees your stern expression and knows better than to keep digging, but he won't. Nobody gives you the benefit of the doubt when it comes to Toshi, and nobody ever has or will. "There are a lot of things I would do for that man. I would drop everything to heal him. I will keep horrible secrets for his sake. But I will never, ever, make the mistake of loving him." When he doesn't reply, you shrug toward him, fed up, ready to go. "Is this what you wanted to talk to me about in private? You wanted to accuse me of an inappropriate relationship with another faculty member?"

"No." He puts his hand up, a sign of surrender. He shakes his head, glances at his watch, clicks his tongue against a fang. "Sorry. I didn't mean for it to come off like this. Tensions are high enough right now without me butting in, so really, I am sorry. I wanted to ask you about Quasar Falls ."

"I… Why?"

"Because ever since my kids found out you let Aizawa's brats watch a movie in class, they've been bitching to get the same treatment. Even when I told them it was actually a legal work assignment, they kept insisting." He scratches the back of his head, making a point of no eye contact. You feel just a little bad. Probably, he didn't mean to have such a blunt confrontation. Probably, he just came up here to finish his coffee before going to class and trying to explain to his students what happened to their peers the day before, and how things will proceed after an attack by Villains. "I figured you had some kind of guide or answer key. I tried watching it myself last night, but I only made it up to, what, forty-odd violations?"

"I don't think they ever got graded with any real weight. I just gave passing marks to anybody I thought tried their best, since it's not something they'd know how to spot at their training level." You didn't fail any of them, though there were a few truly bizarre answers deserving of red pen and question marks. "If you want to turn it into a lesson, I can list everything out next time I watch it. I don't really have time right now."

"Yeah, I'll bet."

"Don't you need to be getting to class?"

"In a minute. My Class Rep can handle attendance and picking up papers. She's responsible, and unlike Aizawa I can trust my kids on their own. I can't imagine how much trouble Mic is going to have as their substitute for Heroics."

"About that…" Before you can answer, your phone dings. Message. Message, message, message. "For fuck's…"

All of the texts are identical, and all of them read:

-Anodyne. Meet for an emergency appointment. Five-thirty. Musutafu Public Library Gazebo. From: Kurogiri.

3.

You come home from school in the dark, using a flashlight to get through your door. You wonder what the rich kids in their fancy houses, with electronic passcodes and keys, are up to. Are they locked out of their homes thanks to the blackout? You can't help hoping so, just because it would be funny. It would be funny if, for once in his life, Kazan Dansa was screwed out of options and left bawling like a bitch on his own doorstep. That would suit him right.

Inside, you call out, "I'm home!" but receive no answer. There's a glow from the kitchen that lets you know you aren't alone. You move in, rest your backpack on a dining room chair, and watch your mother light her cigarette on a tall, wax candle. There are a stack of them in a basket on your table, alongside piled-up mail, unclean dishes, and takeout menus. The smell of spoiled food in the fridge is faint but dizzying. You use your flashlight to find a trash bag in the cupboard. "I brought home water and junk food. You want some chips?"

"What kind?"

"Salt and vinegar."

"No." She blows smoke across the room, her quirk chasing the ring like a pale dart.

You bag up the bad food and toss everything by the door. Better to take it to the dumpster before you get comfortable, but also better to make just one trip. Might as well clean a few other things first and fill a second bag. "Teacher says it's going to be another two days like this. The power station in the southern part of the city basically blew up. Do you think it was the Gunner Girl Gang?"

She snorts at your naive suggestion. "Please. This was Amp Major's doing. The only reason he hasn't taken credit is because he knows this inconvenienced his boss. Once the master finds out? He's fucked."

"How can you be sure it was Amp Major?"

"Because this is the fifth time he's used that same technique. Just the first it's been at a big junction. Same shit that happened two summers ago, but since this affects Heroes and other uppity pricks and not just us, they give a shit this time." She accepts the bottle of water you offer, takes one sip, goes back to smoking. "And because somebody put a bounty on him without giving a reason or the source of the big reward. Whoever turns him in is going to be a lucky bitch."

"Yeah?" It makes your skin crawl, the way she smiles thinking about the money to be made flaying other people. "How much?"

"The guy I talked to this morning said five million, but he's a lying piece of shit. If you find a better middle-man, I bet it's closer to ten."

Amp Major is as good as dead. You wonder if the police would be more merciful to him, if perhaps his best option is to go to Tartarus and be locked in solitary. This extended outage is killing people, and professional Villains take vengeance for less. You help yourself to some chips by candlelight. "Sounds dangerous."

"I heard your school sent you into the streets to play child soldier for the afternoon. Did you have fun with your badges and guns while the rest of us roasted?"

"We handed out water and transported the elderly and disabled to temperature-controlled buildings. No soldier-ing. We're here to help, not to hurt people."

She rolls her eyes, accusations of naivety on her silent lips. Your mother stops herself to gesture with her lit cigarette to the walkie-talkie strapped to your backpack. "What the hell is that?"

You hold out your hand to prove you've removed the batteries. "I killed it already. I just need it for class. We have to be able to communicate over long distances in case supplies dip or there's an emergency."

"…" She points to the police scanner in the corner, hooked up to a car battery but quieted for the night and smothered under a book. "You know which channel I have that set to for emergencies?"

"It's twenty-five, the one that's always screaming to keep other people from using it. Makes my ears hurt."

"Good girl. And what do you do if you see Amp Major while you're playing with your shitty little friends?"

You frown, glancing from the radio to your mother's scanner. "I… I call for backup? There are procedures already in place."

"I don't give a shit about your pedantic Hero rules. If you know where Amp is, if one of your friends finds him and you know where? You call into twenty-five and tell me where."

"Mom, that's terrible."

"Fuck that. Fuck that attitude." She swats you across the ear, not hard but enough to get her point across, and then puts her cigarette out in the bottle of water you just gave her. "Do you understand how much better our lives would be with five-million in the bank? With ten?"

"Yeah, but that's if you murder him."

"Somebody is going to do it. Why the fuck not us? We don't deserve that money any less than everyone else gunning for Amp. And if we do the work, we should get the reward. In this world, you have to use everything at your disposal to survive. That includes your shitty, facist school." She taps the table, fumes pouring from her mouth in such thick waves it makes your head hurt. If you were not her daughter, if you were not immune, her quirk might kill you from this conversation alone. "Twenty-five. I'll be listening."

"Listen all you want," you tell her, getting up and taking your snacks with you. "I'm not going to call you."

4.

"You must think I'm a fool, or else you've mistaken my kindness for subservience." You loosen your coat and scarf as you walk through the warp gate, but do not set your things down. The bar is as before, but Shigaraki is not seated in the center of the room. Rather, he is propped against the back wall, sitting in a pool of blood, breathing hard. He rakes at his neck with one hand, which cramps and bleeds, and must be viced between his knees to stay in place. You don't feel sorry for him today. "You don't get to commit an act of terror and then come crying to me because it fell apart on top of you."

"Watch your tongue," he seethes. He glares up at you. There's nothing on his hand to prevent his quirk from activating, so you have to assume he can kill you even in this feeble state. "Heal me," he demands. "Use your insufferable quirk if you must! But hurry up, before I die!"

You tear your mask off and puff at him, hoping he dislikes the irritating, cinnamon spike to your usually sweet quirk. You hope it burns his nose. "I ought to let you die. And I very gladly considered it, even before you so boldly invited me inside."

Kurogiri is rigid behind you, no doubt wondering if this is his mistake. If it's already too late. You wave dismissively at him, then point that he should sit and listen to your lecture as well. He's as guilty as his master, though neither seems appropriately afraid just yet. 

"Be grateful. I may not be a young assassin anymore, but I'm more than capable of suffocating you both if it pleases me. But you're lucky and I'm petty. I think the embarrassment of losing should sting you worse than death. Seventy of your underlings at once, along with your Frankenstein's Monster, all because of twenty children, two Heroes who don't even specialize in combat, and a washed up false-savior." You almost laugh, though there's not one thing funny about this. If you were him, you would kill yourself before Sensei catches wind of such abonimable failure. But you aren't him. And you never, ever failed your master so egregiously. "Pathetic doesn't begin to describe your attempt. How about desperate? How about stupid?"

"Shut. Up."

"Know your place. You want to be healed? Respect your healer." You suck all of your quirk back in, the scent of anger probably doing more to bother you than your patient. 

He clutches his legs, grits his teeth, doubles over. "Dammit!" The fibers crumble to ash around his fingertips, leaving a massive hole in his clothes and revealing the gunshot wound. Snipe is a talented marksman. If not for how suspect it would look, you might get him a bottle of wine to celebrate his successful wounding of Shigaraki. "Fine," he hisses. "Babble like an old woman for all I care. But just… just…"

You allow him a thin mist, though you are ever tempted to tear your lungs asunder with a killing breath. Kurogiri holds an ice pick, thinks he has it out of your view by keeping it behind his body. He's ready to leap at a moment's notice. If he does, it will be his greatest mistake. "You want to go after Heroes? Fine. You want to devote yourself to killing All Might? Try it. But the moment you targeted children is the moment you fucked up beyond salvation."

"Children? You mean Hero-lings?" He spits on the bar floor, which Kurogiri sighs at in an aggrieved manner. "They gave up any protection they might have been worthy of the moment they signed up to go to U.A.."

"Wrong." You fold your arms. You blow a ring of fog around his face and offer nothing further. "Clothes or costumes, they're still children until they turn of age, and they're still civilians until they have licenses. And may I remind you, it's not just the righteous and lawful that have children. Villains have families, too. Criminals can love their babies. And god help you if you'd managed to take somebody's baby from them, Tomura Shigaraki, because I will all too gladly forsake my Hero's code to annihilate every shred of you from this universe if you try again. This is your first and last warning. If I ever find out you hurt a kid? This red cloud will be the last thing you ever see."

You snap your fingers at Kurogiri, and point at the exit. You are ready to go, one way or another.

"Wait!" Shigaraki tries to force himself up, leaning against the wall for balance. "You haven't finished healing me."

"You're done bleeding. Your life is in no further danger, for the moment. Find somebody else to pull the slugs out."

5.

Kurogiri leaves you at a park near the library. You walk home, grappling with your emotions along the way. There is a high— a nervous, paranoid, rush— at the knowledge you've put a bad pup in his place. There is a low— a dreading, hollow pit— at knowing you've accomplished nothing. If you rat on Shigaraki, you have to come clean about how you know him. You will be undone. If you turn a blind eye, he'll do something worse, and you might not be left with any pieces to pick up. This is the way of the underworld, the promise of mutual destruction that serves as loyalty in place of shared dreams and ideals.

But being in Shigaraki's good graces was a valuable safety net. One you have burned. You realize this fully as you come to your apartment and find your front door open.

Somebody broke into your home.

Chapter Text

1.

He parks outside F/N's apartment complex, across from police vehicles. Their flashing lights blink red and blue against a peach sunset. Clothes flap in the breeze, strung on lines between windows at every level but the ground. He turns off the engine but continues to grip the steering wheel.

Toshinori scans the commotion for F/N and finds her between Tsukauchi and his assistant, and a group of four suspicious looking local men. Tattoos, cigarettes, hair dye. He's fairly sure he sees knives in their jacket pockets, except for one, who has a mouth full of razor blades for teeth. When Toshinori gets out of his truck and approaches, the brutes edge nearer to F/N and cast belittling glances toward him. F/N notices him when Naomasa breaks away to have a final, passing word with the incognito Hero. "Nobody is hurt and nothing was stolen."

"Somebody broke into a Pro's home, Tsukauchi, and the day after an attack on her workplace. It's not something we can afford to ignore."

"I'm not ignoring it," he assures, a hand on Toshi's shoulder that squeezes before letting go. "But getting her to call you was like pulling teeth. You say she's your friend, but you could fool me."

He tries to smile, but the effort dies behind his teeth. F/N values privacy and lawfulness. While communication between himself and Tsukauchi is beneficial, she sees it as overstepping. She's a good Hero, too good for her own benefit. And too solitary as well. "It's complicated."

He nods. And he shrugs toward her, mingling with her dangerous neighbors, dwarfed by their shadows. "She's all yours."

The likely Villains say otherwise with their body language. Toshi would bet anything one of them is responsible. It's always like that in these neighborhoods, a small ecosystem of crime and suffering. "We ain't taking visitors to this part of town tonight," one growls at him. "Pack it up and turn around, old man."

"No, no," peeps F/N. "He's here for me."

"Eh?" The young thugs spread out, two still at her side and two flanking him. Hands in their pockets, hackles up. Toshinori wishes they would try. Even like this, he bets he could snap their arms. They'd regret it. "This creep? You gotta be kidding me! If you wanna top suspect for your invader, that's him right there!"

"I am completely sure he isn't the one who did this, darling, but thank you for your concern." She squeezes past the man and comes to Toshinori. She's bundled up tight in everything she's been wearing for two days. He holds his hands out, inviting her to hold them. She doesn't reach back. "Don't mind the boys. They feel responsible for this, I think, and it has them edgy."

He can imagine why they'd feel responsible, all right. "Are you okay?" he says in a quiet, low tone.

"I'm fine. I wasn't home at the time, I simply came back to discover my door forced open. Whoever did it, they knocked a few things over, but nothing was really taken or destroyed. Even my mail is undisturbed," she says, showing him a fist-full of letters shoved into her coat pocket. In spite of her claim, she doesn't look fine. She looks tired. "I have a locksmith coming tomorrow to upgrade my security, and my landlord has to worry about the frame. It's all water under the bridge."

"Water…? F/N, whoever did this might have come here to hurt you. What if this is related to the USJ attack? What if it's the strangler again? Nobody has been caught, so you aren't safe, and it isn't over."

She sighs, casting a glance back at the thugs. They're still watching, although one has split off to find a windless corner to light his new cigarette. "Regardless, this isn't really a problem for you to deal with. You're not an investigator. You are a bruiser."

"I'm a Hero, and that means I'm flexible enough to adapt to any emergency."

"What do you know? So am I." She pats his arm. He doesn't realize how tense his fist is balled until she runs her thumb over his knuckles. "I'm not going to stay the night here until I'm sure I'm secure. I planned to take a bus or cab uptown and get an unlisted hotel room. Your detective friend suggested I call you instead."

Toshi is glad she did. "A hotel is fine. Would you prefer to stay at my agency for the night? We have rooms."

"I would prefer to go back to U.A.." She rubs the dirt and irritation from the corner of her eyes. "I managed to pack some clothes and other necessities for myself, but everything else I might need is already at my office in the school. And I feel safer there than anywhere else, anyway."

"Can I drive you there?" He points toward his little truck— the unassuming, silver thing. 

"… I would appreciate that. A lot."

2.

"If nobody holds off that Villain, the people in that building will die before they get a chance to evacuate!" Toshinori tears free of Kazan Dansa's hold. "Do you suggest we do nothing?!"

"I suggest we do what we've been told and call for backup! This is a job for actual Pros, not us! Yagi! Yagi! !" But his classmate's cries fall away in the wind. Toshinori obeys only his thundering heart, his feet hammering against the pavement. He has to hold the Villain off. He has to buy them time to get out.

He throws a chunk of pavement at the Villain with all he has. It slams against the electric barrier and bursts, stones flying and breaking glass. It doesn't do any damage, but it takes his attention off the citizens hiding and pinned behind him. The criminal wheels around, his jaw hanging crooked and his eyes wide. Toshi watches a lightning shiver pass up the man's spine.

"You shouldn't have fucked with me, kid," he hisses.

He charges forward. The Villain rams Toshinori into a wall, burning him with electric arcs, knocking the breath and blood from his lungs. So fast. How could he be so fast?

Not finished, Toshinori kicks out and rolls away. He holds his chest, clutching as if his hands can calm the internal spasms. It shouldn't be so hard to catch his breath. He shouldn't be this dizzy. 

The Villain comes in for another swing, but Toshinori is ready. He dives aside. He doesn't need to defeat this monster, but he has to lead him away and buy time. He glances aside to confirm the citizens are escaping. A little longer.

He snatches Toshinori by the hair and whips him back against the concrete wall. Toshi tastes a jolt between his teeth. His tongue burns. He pulls himself up just before taking a blow that would have crushed his head.

Toshinori's radio, strapped to his shoulder, squeals and buzzes with Kazan Dansa's voice. "Attack at the Grandwater Complex! It's a Villain with an electric quirk! There's a student down, we need help out here!" Said Villain grabs Toshinori by the shirt and tears through him with lightning. The radio whines, then explodes. Plastic shreds needle his face. A storm ravages his heart and lungs.

Is he screaming? Toshinori wants to, tries to, but every muscle is locked as the world fades from vivid to white. As the spit boils on his tongue, he cries from within. 'Fight back. They need you. You can't die here. You need to be a Hero. You need to become a symbol of strength. Don't die. Don't die. Don't kill me.'

The shocks end, replaced by crushing weight. Not as bad, Toshi realizes, and heaves in the biggest breath he can. He doesn't come to his senses before being yanked aside. "Run, dammit!" screams Dansa.

He bolts, not sure which direction, no plan, no sanity. His classmate's hand takes him by the cape and pulls him aside before the Villain rams again. Toshi rolls to the left.

Dansa does not get as lucky. He tumbles, skids, and is kicked. The Villain has a new target.

Toshinori yells and runs, everything he has behind the punch he throws. He won't let his fellow student get killed, and especially not when it's his fault. Kazan should have run. He could be safe, but he came back. They're leaving this fight together, alive.

Maybe not.

The electric barrier throws Toshinori back. It feels like his whole body quits for an instant, fails on him before rebooting. He's on the ground, prone when he gets bodily control back. The Villain's boot hovers over Dansa's head. "Heh. Nothing personal, kids. Haha. You just didn't have what it takes to survive in a real man's world. Haha! Hah!"

Dansa coughs, but then Toshi realizes he, too, is laughing. The Villain stumbles back a step, holding his ribs, assailed with giggles. The air smells strangely sour, Toshi realizes, as an involuntary chuckle rises from his own throat. 

"What? Hah… What is this?! Hahaha! One of you brats?! Ahhh! Hahaha!" He clutches his throat and chest, suddenly struggling for breath. He can get it out, he can laugh, but no inhale comes without a labored wheeze. The Villain falls on his knees. 

Now or never. Toshinori takes a deep breath, rushes in to grab his unconscious classmate, and flees toward the open street and air with every ounce of strength his legs can offer. He skids to a brief halt, glances back at the battleground. There's somebody else there. A Pro, come to the rescue?

No. No, there aren't any Pro Heroes that dress like that.

Faster. He runs faster, faster, further. "Don't worry, Kaz. I'm getting you to help. You're going to be okay." Thank heavens Dansa is passed out and can't hear a word of his promising, because Toshinori is ashamed of the terror in his voice.

3.

Their otherwise silent drive through Musutafu is undercut by the truck radio. On a national talk show, hosts and educated guests speak in serious, dry tones.

" The drug Legasol became available to the general public the following year, marketed as a vitamin supplement for pregnant women. The makers of Legasol claimed their product could increase the chance of a child being born with a powerful quirk. At a glance, their data seemed to prove the claim. Several individuals with multi-faceted quirks were produced by the drug's trial run.

"Later studies cast doubt on the viability of Legasol. While the drug was cited as a prenatal supplement in several quirk-fortunate individuals, many of whom went on to be Pro Heroes, it was also linked to a higher rate of children being born quirkless. The final nail in the coffin came one year after Legasol was pulled from shelves, when the rate of babies born quirkless in Japan shrunk from twenty-five to just twenty percent."

A second speaker chimes in, livelier but with the microphone adjusted further from the mouth. " Many people today still advocate for Legasol, and it's seen demand in the black market especially among conspiracy groups. Many such individuals believe Legasol, given it's narrow time of availability to the general public and the nature of the quirks mutated with its use, was a key component in achieving All Might's mystery quirk. While we observe incredible super-strength from our Number One, it's entirely possible this effect is achieved through a combination of different, smaller abilities composited together. This closely resembles numerous findings from studies of Legasol, wh--"

Toshinori switches the volume off, uninterested in hearing speculation about himself. F/N is on her phone, flipping through something in the darkness, illuminating the bags under her eyes. "Are you a Legasol baby?" she asks, absently. Toshinori is glad somebody filled the silence. His engine is starting to sound rough, and it makes his skin crawl to imagine having to find time to deal with that on top of everything else life throws at him in a day.

"No idea. I didn't exactly get a chance to ask my mother about it." He brakes at a light and prepares to take a gentle left. The streetlights, neon shop signs, and headlights bleed together across his wet windshield. He gives in, flips on his wiper blades. The rain is here to stay. "What about you?"

"Mhm. My mom swore by it. In my case, I guess it worked out." Her breath, though thin for visibility's sake, fogs her window. She draws a little bird on the pane. "Although, there are days like this, when I think I might have been happier if I was born quirkless. Who would bother targeting me if I wasn't saddled with this gift?"

He opens his mouth to disagree, but closes it without saying anything. As much good as F/N has done the world, as many lives as she's saved, he does understand how she feels. Life is infinitely more complicated for Heroes, and somebody born with an ability like hers will always be encouraged down that path. "If you were quirkless, I might never have gotten to meet you. So I'm still glad you are who you are."

"Thanks."

It can't be easy. He only has a vague idea of how Medical Heroes live, and most of it from listening to Recovery Girl's ramblings during his semi-lucid visits. They can't register personal information on the Hero Network or be requested through the same channels as most Heroes. Their rarity makes them vulnerable targets, a temptation for particularly vengeful Villains to kidnap or kill. Who wouldn't want to be healed on demand? Even without the possibility of hacks leaking their addresses and locations, it makes little sense to allow requests from any agency at any moment to the Medics. Including F/N and Recovery Girl, there might be seven or eight other true healers in all Japan. The demand would overwhelm them.

Isolation, even for safety and health, comes with burdens. F/N is a bright and caring person, somebody who overwhelms him with her compassion and infectious mood. But in many ways, she's as much an outsider today as she was in high school. He aimed to bring her in from the cold, but somewhere along the way the storm swept her out of his hands.

"Are you okay?"

"Do you want the gentle answer, or the real one?"

"You know which I want."

"I'm angry." She turns her phone off. The darkness flashes over her features and the outside world glows faintly past the rain-beaten windshield. "I'm tired. I feel like I've gone a million years wide awake, burning in a rage I can't continue to fuel. I want to sleep."

Rest will come soon. He pulls onto the street leading up the hill to U.A., but gives his truck less gas. It's greedy of him to covet these last few seconds with her here, safe and warm next to him, calm and quiet. "Do you want to borrow my umbrella?"

"I'll be fine. It's not very far to the door."

"Do you want me to come in with you? Nobody would blame you for not wanting to be alone right now. Honestly, I would feel better if--"

"I think that would be a bad idea."

He doesn't know what he did wrong. Last night and this morning, things were fine. She got along with him, leaned on him, laughed with him. What happened to snuff out that precious, fragile ember? His foot is lead on the brake. Toshinori puts his truck in park. "I'm sorry."

She gives him a strange look and stays inside. She flicks on the overhead light, perhaps to make sure she has everything in her arms before she departs. "Why are you sorry?"

"I… I know you want your space. I don't mean to barge in. I just want to help."

"It's not because I need to be alone, Toshi. I think it's a bad idea for you to stay the night with me again because… because…" She takes a deep breath, leaving her peppermint mist all over his floor and in his cup holders. "Because I didn't manage to clean up the rooftop mess before Vlad King went to investigate, and now he thinks we're having sex."

He chokes, tugs desperately at his shirt buttons for air. Too late, for the blood spews out, all down his inner elbow and through the sleeve. He coughs, tense, locked in his posture and wondering what that horrible, loud, blaring could be.

"Toshi."

"I'm fine," he says, and then repeats louder, over that fucking noise. Damn, but his chest is filled with needles and tacks.

"Toshi, you're leaning on your car horn."

"Fuck!"

She weaves a tissue between his fingers, which is too little too late, but he is grateful. Toshi pads his lips and chin dry, the smell of copper thick beneath his nose. "I'm the one who's sorry," she says and passes him a little packet of kleenex. "I promised I'd take care of it, but I got sidetracked by a student, and then Aizawa, and… I talked to King about it already and I think I set him straight, but I'm not sure. Because he isn't the only one who suspects things of us. Power Loader, too. And Midnight, but maybe she thinks of everyone like that?"

Toshinori swallows the remaining gunk back down, back the way it came. "None of this was my intention. I promise, I'll explain things at the next meeting with the other teachers. You don't deserve to deal with that."

"Please, please do not air dirty laundry in front of our coworkers. If they don't think we're being inappropriate, you insisting we're innocent will convince them of our guilt for sure. And it's not all that bad. Adults can be reasoned with individually if things get odd. It's children that can't keep quiet about things like this. And thankfully, I don't think any of the students suspect us of misconduct."

4.

"Welcome back, Deku!" Uraraka hugs him at lunch, her first chance to speak with Izuku since he came into class a bit late. "How are your legs feeling? All better? Did you sleep good on your day off?"

Iida slams into the seat next to Midoriya, piling his friend's tray with healthier food choices before he's even said hello. "You need extra calcium to support your bones!"

Just a little sleepy, Midoriya is happy to be back at school. Tsu and Aoyama sit across from him, also asking general questions about his health. "I just needed a day to sleep. I feel a lot better." Being home, wondering if everyone else was okay while he's drained and helpless, is the worst torture. All Might would never let an injury slow him down. He'd fight through the pain to get back to his job, no matter what, and never let anyone down. "I'm just upset I missed out on the volunteer sign-up sheet for Hero Appreciation Day. All of the good stuff is gone."

"All of the bad stuff, too," says Tsu. "I didn't get a slot in time, either. Mister Aizawa said there would be an update in the middle of the week with more assignments, but I bet they're going to run out."

"You should seek an opportunity through private sources," says Iida. "I'm accompanying my family to a charity event, so I didn't put my name on the school sign-up, but I'll still be getting credit so long as I get the paperwork filled out."

"Yeah, but… I don't know any Pros or agencies that are looking for help this weekend. I don't think so, anyway."

Of all people, Shouto Todoroki invites himself to sit next to Tsu. The froggy girl stiffens, not out of unkindness, but because this is a first. Todoroki has been sticking to himself since the first day of school. "I think I've figured it out."

"Where to get a volunteer opportunity for Hero Appreciation Day?"

He gives Uraraka a perplexed stare, as if she's said the dumbest thing he's heard in his life. "About who Nurse L/N's secret Pro Hero boyfriend is."

Izuku almost chokes to death on his milk. "What?! I'm pretty sure we shouldn't gossip about this kind of thing! It would be wrong, right, Iida?"

But Tenya is leaning in closer than anyone to hear Shouto's theory. "Do you think she used to be with the Defibrillation Hero: ReVolt?! Because I think she used to be with the Defibrillation Hero: ReVolt!"

"Iida, quieter!" hisses Uraraka.

"Besides," says Tsu, "I'm pretty sure ReVolt is married with kids, so the timeline doesn't make sense. Not unless Nurse L/N is some kind of homewrecker."

"No way, there's no way! She's way too sweet for that!"

"I don't know," says Kaminari, inviting himself to squeeze into the conversation. His entire table group, consisting of Kirishima, Sero, and Mina, migrate to hover around Todoroki for potential news. "I'd let her wreck my home, for sure."

"Gross, Denki."

"When I asked her about it, she got especially defensive when I suggested her ex-boyfriend was another staff member here at U.A.," says Todoroki. He glances from side to side, checking for outsiders who might not be welcome to this information. Or perhaps just looking dramatic. Midoriya can't imagine this is going to stay private. "She also mentioned something about an incriminating photograph. I think she's been with one of our teachers."

Kirishima nods. "Yeah, Power Loader totally handed her some kind of picture. I didn't see who it was of, but she made a big fuss hiding it from us."

"Oh man. I wonder where it is. Do you think she kept it in the nursing office?"

"It's been really nice having lunch with all of you, so sorry to run all of a sudden, but I really have to be going!" Midoriya scrambles to pile the group's trash on his tray before he leaves, to have every excuse to flee this conversation. Should he warn All Might? Should he warn L/N?

He makes it into the hallway, but Iida catches him. "No running in the halls!!"

"You're running a lot faster than I was," Midoriya mumbles, slouching in shame. Uraraka, breathless and confused, chases until she, too, is beside him. 

They hold him back, asking if he's okay, telling him he should return. "Does it bother you that much to talk about Nurse L/N? We promise we won't do it anymore if it's so horrible, but I really wish I knew what was wrong! Is it just that you don't like us being disrespectful to the Pros and their personal lives?"

"You're too good of a person, Midoriya! I should strive to be a better Class Rep and follow your example!"

"No, it's not that." He clears his throat, takes a deep breath. The weight of knowledge is heavy. He wishes not to carry it alone anymore, and hopes this isn't a huge mistake. "Can you keep a secret?"

"Of course! Whatever is wrong, we won't breathe a word. I swear."

"Me, too."

He nods, and then begins to walk towards the stairs. They still have some time left in this lunch hour, and he's lost his appetite. "When I was working on my Villain Studies project, I went through a bunch of yearbooks in the library. And I found pictures of Nurse L/N as a student here."

"What?! No way! You have to show us!!"

"Okay, but… You really, really need to keep this a secret."

"We swear!"

Chapter Text

1.

Document scanning numbs you, so ordinary you do it in your dreams. There is a cluster of finished binders on the uppermost shelf in what has become the nap room. You did not sleep well last night, so you turned the lights on and filed until your eyes got heavy, then passed out on the beanbag chairs. You got up, cleaned yourself in the nursing bathroom (which you swear not to make a habit of, because that's just a little too unprofessional for your tastes), and went back to digitizing. You consider going to get coffee, but there's no Recovery Girl today, and you expect to have your hands full after homeroom ends.

In spite of attempts from hospital staff, Recovery Girl, and even Present Mic, there is no way to keep Eraserhead from escaping the hospital. The deal is, he gets to teach his homeroom, and he gets to teach his Heroics class, and in between he's to sleep— preferably under observation. His Hero license exempts him from being handcuffed to a hospital bed, which irritates you in that special, gnawing way, right in the back of your stomach. What is the point in putting your everything into saving a life when he's going to go tear himself up again, right away, right before your eyes?

That's why Chiyo is frustrated with All Might, you suppose. She must have been around for the beginning of the fall, taken the helm in this typhoon and tried to steer him to shore while doing the patch-work, the re-fueling, the navigating. All while he keeps punching new holes and inviting new monsoons. You have no idea how she managed this long. And with such grace. She probably never had to call him in the dead of night because she's being arrested, or her home has been invaded. Why are you like this? Why do you still have to rely on him?

Your office door opens. You expect it's Eraserhead barging in, since he's gotten good at opening doors with his elbow. You rub the sleep out of your eyes and spin in the chair to say good morning.

In the frame stands a third year student, a young man with dark hair and pronounced ears. He is on the verge of tears. His arm is wrapped over his face and he trembles. "Hi," you coo, floating nearer. "Come in. How can I help you?"

He says something, but it's terribly quiet and muffled by his forearm. 

"I didn't quite understand, darling."

He winces, and then the sobbing starts. You hurry to get the door closed and get him away from the hallway, lest somebody hear. "Can I have tissues?" he weeps.

"Of course!" You hurry to snatch some out of the cabinet, shaken by how upset this kid is. You expect the younger ones to be unsteady yet, the occasional meltdown from social drama at all age ranges. But in the middle of the school day? At his age? You hope he isn't sick or hurt. You offer him the wipes, and he accepts them, but holds them crumpled in his free hand as he continues to cry. "What's wrong, darling?"

"Can… Can I use the bathroom?"

Maybe he needs to throw up. You lead him to the little washroom. He yanks the door shut and locks himself in. You expect to hear vomiting, but there's only sniffles. For safety reasons, you have a key to get inside. But it sounds like, maybe, he just needs a minute. "What's your name, darling?"

You hear "Amajiki". You think. So you pour through the computerized database to confirm his identity and check for any known health concerns. His quirk is interesting, very digestive, but nothing else has been noted in his file. Not surprising. If a memo exists, it's probably stapled to something in a binder you haven't reached yet. You fill out the beginnings of a treatment log, but hear him weeping in the restroom. "I should just give up and drop out."

Oh no.

You return to the door and sit low next to the handle where you suppose he'll hear you best. "Darling, are you okay? Are you hurt?"

"I just… I can't do it. I keep pushing as hard as I can, but nothing ever gets easier. I'm kidding myself. The last thing somebody like me should be is a Hero."

"Darling, that can't be true. Everybody has bad days and rough patches. Whatever you're having trouble with, I'm here to help. We'll work together and take some weight off your shoulders, how does that sound?"

"It's pointless," he whines. "You'd just be wasting your time."

You try to come up with something reassuring to say, but your office door opens again. Eraserhead limps in, grumbling and growling. He invites himself to sit on the bed nearest the exit. You rise to stop him. "I'm sorry, but I have a distressed student in here, and I really can't have you overhearing this kind of thing."

"Cool," he huffs, shuffling toward the door. "I'll sleep in Hizashi's car."

"No, no. This way," you order, hooking him by the back of the shirt and pulling him into the on-call room. "Excuse the slight mess. Feel free to make yourself…" He flops down on your beanbag, groaning into a deep sigh. "… comfortable. And put these on." You take your headphones off the shelf and put them over his ears, knowing he's helpless to remove them unless he rubs them off against a wall or flails, and that he's not willing to lose the crook he's settled into. He glares at you as you turn them on, along with your tablet, which resumes Aprons ! where you left off last night. You hope it's not obvious how comfortable you've made yourself. Before Eraserhead can gripe at you, you blow a peppermint cloud into the room for his sake, close him in, and go back to talking to Amajiki through the bathroom door. 

"Are you still there?" he asks. "It's okay if you left."

"I had to take care of something really fast, but I'm back and I'm happy to listen. Talk to me, darling. What's been making life so hard?"

"You're going to think it's stupid. It's not worth bothering you with."

"I promise, I will not think your problem is stupid. If it has you upset, it's worth my time to try and help."

He takes a long time to summon the courage to reply, so you pull your rolling chair up and get seated by the door with a clipboard in case you need to make notes. Finally, he murmurs, "I get nervous."

"What kind of nervous? Like, you think Hero work is intimidating? Or you have a hard time speaking in front of the class?"

"All of it!" More sniffling. At least he has toilet paper to use if he runs out of tissues. "Any time somebody looks at me, I feel like I'm going to throw up. And if I try to talk, I can't, and my chest hurts, and… And I should be better by now, shouldn't I? I've tried so, so hard to get brave, but I can't do it! I'm a coward and a pathetic loser, and I can't be a Hero. I can't."

"Sweetheart, that sounds like social anxiety. That's not being a coward, it's a chemical imbalance in your brain." Poor kid. You inhale, calm yourself down now that you know he isn't dying. "How long have you had trouble socializing with others?"

"Always. It's been my whole life, and it's going to be the rest of it."

"Hey, that's not true. There are options and treatments that can help. Have you ever talked to a doctor or psychiatrist about your anxiety? Medication might help."

"I… I tried, but medicine interferes with my quirk. And if my quirk doesn't work, I'll let everyone down…"

The cruel reality of modern medicine is, as far forward as we've managed to get for the bulk of people and problems, there are new setbacks and blindspots everywhere. Quirks are unique to every individual who has one, demanding specialized education, creating singular complications. One man's miracle drug is another's poison.

"Darling, I know you think you should quit, but it doesn't sound like you want to. It sounds like you do want to be a Hero, you just can't imagine succeeding."

"… Yeah."

"You've already come so far. Being in U.A., still, three years into Heroics? You're probably better trained and more ready to take the field right now than most Pros are when they debut."

You get a knock at the door. Of course things get busy when you're alone and overwhelmed. "I'll be right back after I help whoever is here, all right, darling? Take deep breaths." You float to the entrance and greet another third-year boy, this one blond with narrow, blue eyes and a glamorous smile. "How can I help you, darling?"

"Hello, Nurse L/N! I'm Mirio Togata, nice to meet you in person. I'm not actually here for myself, though. You wouldn't happen to have seen my friend Tamaki Amajiki come this way, would you?"

You nod and clear your throat, motioning for Togata to shut the door behind him. He picks up on your signals, and even points knowingly at the bathroom. "Do you know why he's so upset?" you ask. "I can't figure out what set him off, but he's awfully blue."

"Yeah, I was worried about that. We were doing presentations in class, and it was Amajiki's turn. He had a hard time standing still at the podium, but he was doing really good! Until he sneezed. Right into his elbow. He made this face, must have realized it was a huge mess, walked out into the hall… and didn't come back. We waited for a while, too."

All this over a snotty nose. Poor kid.

"Amajiki, darling? Are you ready to come out?"

"Hey Tamaki, it's me! I'm going to come in and check on you," says Mirio. "Is that okay?"

"… Yeah."

What a nice friend. You fumble with your key ring, and when you turn your attention back to the bathroom door so you can unlock it, you find no Mirio Togata. Only his clothes. "Wh…?"

"There you go, buddy," you hear from inside the restroom, along with what you sincerely hope are friendly slaps on the back. "Guess what, your presentation still wasn't the worst, even though you left before you could finish! Kuraka didn't even do the right assignment. He did a powerpoint about the theoretical government enslavement of garden snails, so he's probably going to fail outright."

"Oh. I guess that makes me feel better. But it also makes me a bad person that it makes me feel better."

"No way! You're a great person, Tamaki. And you're a great friend. You give these perfect hugs, see?"

"I just… wish you weren't naked for these so often…"

High school never ceases to be a dramatic, awkward mess.

2.

"Toshi. Toshi, you gotta drink slower than that."

"I'm dying," he wheezes. He flops down in the shade, breathing hard, dumping the bottled water on his sunburned face in a feeble attempt to chug everything. He coughs some water up, coughs too hard, turns on his side, clutches his hand over his mouth.

You sigh. "I've been telling you for three days to drink water and keep out of the sun, and this is why. Heatstroke is no fun, is it?"

"I'm dying," he repeats.

"You're not dying. You're just dumb." You sigh a cloud over him, aiming for a refreshing mist even though you're running a bit warm, too. From here, you can see the coming and going of your fellow classmates. Alpha squad swaps places with Beta squad, Ceta Squad and Delta continue to rest. There aren't many supplies left to give the public, but luck is on your side. "Gran Torino says the power is going to be back on tonight. Hang in there a little longer, and you can fall asleep in front of a fan with a cold drink."

He moans in feigned arousal. "That sounds so good."

You recline against the tree, almost as eager for rest as Toshinori. You've done your share of delivery and message-running, but the bulk of your fatigue comes from healing. Dansa should be fine, in spite of his run-in with a Villain. Thanks to you. "Hey, Toshi… I heard you ended up having to fight somebody. Are you okay?"

He stiffens, then his demeanor changes from uncertain to faux-confident, complete with cartoonish smile. "Of course! I had everything handled."

That's not what you heard over the radio, and not what Dansa told Gran Torino when he regained consciousness. You can't imagine why the demon teacher isn't coming unglued at Toshi for his recklessness. He almost got fried by Amp Major, one of the most dangerous criminals in Musutafu. In all Japan. "I'm glad you got away safely."

"…"

"What's wrong? Sip more water."

"It's not that. We escaped because another Villain showed up suddenly. I didn't get a clear look but… I remember how the air felt, and how it burned my lungs." He clutches his throat.

Shit. "Hey, you need to take deeper breaths! My quirk can help, but you've got to suck it in! Toshi, you really should tell me when you get hurt."

"I'm okay, really." He lays flat for a moment, bathed in sparkling, pale blue. Your scent mixes with his sweat and the lawn, and the wind from the city. He manages a few more gulps of water, but you knock it away from his mouth before he can flood himself. Rehydration needs to be done slowly. "Your quirk always makes me feel better. It's cooling off my face."

"It's healing your sunburn."

"It's so good, though. F/N, please be my air conditioner until the electricity is back. I'll die without it." He feigns choking to death, then lays on the grass with a smile on his face.

You snort. "Toshi, you're such a goofball. You need to be more careful, though, because I have no idea what I'd do if I lost you. Kill somebody and take revenge, probably."

"How are you going to get revenge with skinny noodle arms like those?"

You gasp, offended, and slap him across the nose. "Like that! And this! And this!"

"Ow. Ow. Ok. Ok. F/N. Ok. Stop!"

"I'll annoy your murderer to death. That's my plan." You give him a moment to catch his breath. Or your breath. Either way, it's something special to see him calm and still like this. Toshi gives you a sense of peace that clings to your insides and grows like a tumor. Isn't he cute like this? Isn't this an adorable sight? You should say something and ruin it before your heart bleeds into your guts. "Hey, since my quirk involves puffing out these huge fogbanks, maybe when I'm healing you, I should start saying that I'm giving you a blowjob."

He vomits water all over his chest.

3.

"I am here! With lunch!"

You drop your binder. Papers spill out in a disastrous pile, sliding under the chair, under the desk, over both cots. "Oh no," you sigh, picking up the cracked, plastic folder. You begin the long, tedious task of recollecting documents.

Toshi's hand finds a page just before yours. "Sorry for startling you," he says. "Let me help pick this up."

"No, you don't need to do…" You look up, into his eyes. His image has taken a beating, but you take one glance at that blue, at all the compassion behind his gaze, and you melt. He's handsome. Or you've got a weak spot for a certain tall, blond disaster. "…that." But while you zoned out, he's scooped up most of the mess already. He makes a stack on the desk, beside the computer and a convenience store pre-made meal. "You didn't have to bring me lunch."

"I know, but I was in the area, and I remember this being a favorite of yours. It seemed like a good idea to keep your spirits up."

"Is it that obvious I'm dragging myself through the day?"

"Not at all. I just know what it means when you start floating low to the ground like that." He pulls both chairs up to the table, and piles the binders against the wall to make room for socializing. "I hope you don't mind that I'm not eating. I had something earlier, and it's going to be a while before I'm clear for more."

Somehow, you don't believe him. "You want something to drink?"

He reaches in the bag and pulls out a pair of cold, canned teas. "I can't finish it, but I brought my own. And one for you."

"Thank you for not getting one of those horrible minty beers," you say, fiddling with the lid to your food. It smells great. You've been subsisting on snacks, unable to find the time to even go to Lunch Rush today. "Thank you, really."

He sinks into the other chair, which is set far too low for him. You stifle a smile at the way his knees hover just below his armpits. Eventually, he finds the lever and changes the settings Recovery Girl left for her chair. You ought to fix it before she sees, or hurts herself trying to climb into the seat. "Has your locksmith been by?"

"He left me a message. There are fresh house keys waiting for me with a trusted neighbor." Delicious. He really does remember what you like. You wash your food down with a sip of peach tea before you speak again. "It will be nice to use my own shower again. Sleep in my own bed."

"About that. My offer is still open, regarding Might Tower. We host international Heroes and guests for conferences all the time, so there are secure rooms. Hell, you'd be welcome in the penthouse."

"Thank you, but I, um…" You would rather die than be spotted publicly accepting his pity. You would rather rot on your doorstep than share a bed with the man who ruined your life and humiliated you out of the Hero world. "I'm not comfortable with that."

"Ok. I didn't mean to overstep. I just… worry, I guess. If you'd rather stay here, I'm more than happy to pick up groceries or clothes for you."

"Toshi, I can't live the rest of my life hiding at U.A.. It's not set up for that, and I'm a grown adult who needs her personal space and privacy. I can't have that here." You should ask him which store he got this from. If it's along any of your potential routes to school, you'll get this every day. Maybe it's because you've had nothing but Flex Bars and juice boxes for the last two days, but this may in fact be the single greatest dish to ever be crafted by a human being. "When Chiyo isn't here, I can barely find the time to leave the room. I had one kid in here earlier, oh Toshi, I felt so bad for him. It wasn't even a condition I could give him anything useful for. Basically, I had to tell him if he ever gets overwhelmed and upset, and just needs a place to hide and decompress, he's welcome to come here. It felt like I offered him nothing. And then, almost as soon as he's gone, I had to treat a Heroics class injury, a Support kid who welded his belt-buckle to a chair on accident, and a General Education girl with an upset stomach. I swear, I should just replace that thing with a revolving door for all the traffic this place sees with one nurse present."

"It's a lot to ask of a person. Thankfully, it's not every day. Most of the time, you can rely on each other."

"But then I start thinking about other Heroes, and about how dizzying it can be. How it drains a person to be in the field alone, or not have immediate backup, or even just not have somebody they can trust to take over if they need a day off. And I think about you." You reach into your pocket, finding the one piece of mail you can't decide between keeping and shredding. "And I think about my old agency, especially today, since a former Sidekick is trying to get in touch with me."

"Hey, that's a good thing, isn't it?" He tries to smile— a pitiable, fake thing. You wonder if the word alone irks him, with how he's separated from his previous Sidekicks. You have no idea what happened between him and Nighteye, but you do know Sir's agency has avoided any official work related to his former boss. It would be a big deal in the tabloids if that situation changed. You imagine there are some hard feelings. "Not about anything bad, I hope?"

"About Hero Appreciation Day. She wants to host a ceremony in her agency building, and invited a bunch of us to come. But I haven't looked any of them in the eye for, what, eight years? I don't know." Can you stand the weight of failure, crushing you, standing next to those who thought the most of you before you crumbled before their eyes? Why on earth would they want to see you again? Are the occasional holiday cards not enough? "I'm not up for it. I'm tired from work."

"I think you should go."

"I think you don't know what you're talking about."

"F/N, it's Hero Appreciation Day. You're a Hero, even though you don't treat yourself that way very often. If there's no catastrophic breakup keeping you apart from your friends, you should set aside time to see them. You never know, right?"

"Never know what?"

"Well… It could be the last chance you get to see some of them. And if you don't take it? That's it. You know?" The quiet follows him, his long stare into his open, untouched drink, growing world weary. "Sorry. I didn't mean to get so serious all of a sudden. How's your food?"

"Amazing." You swallow. Hopefully, he hasn't noticed just how much you're stuffing your face. You've gotten used to eating a lot in a hurry, being in a rush, digesting on the go. Getting out of the habit is an impossible task. "I've been hungry all night because I started watching Aprons! on my off time. I know it's marketed to be about the love story and the relationships between the characters, but I love all the cooking."

"I've never heard of that show."

"It's a scripted drama about a competitive reality show where chefs try to create dishes around different themes and limitations. But the host is this mysterious, charming guy who everyone is fascinated by, and it kind of turns into a dating competition. They all try to outdo each other and get his attention, but he doesn't manage to see anybody outside of their chef persona. At the same time, he has an assistant, and she was born without a sense of taste or smell."

He nods. "So he's obviously going to end up with her, right?"

"I mean, that's who I'm rooting for. They have good chemistry, but I think he might lose her to his charismatic best friend, who quit a high-end restaurant to run a food truck and travel across the country while following his passion." As you recall the plot and nuances of the show, you freeze, and your blood runs as cold as peach tea. "I forgot about Aizawa."

You get up, not explaining yourself, and hurry to the on-call door. You peek inside, into the darkness.

Out of the void, two red eyes, glowing, glaring. Your tablet, still playing episodes of Aprons !, casts a shimmering, gray light over his bandaged face. Remnants of your fog remain in the room, creeping in corners and basins. "Close the door," hisses Eraserhead. You do.

"Are you okay, F/N? What's in there? Is it Aizawa?"

"It's a demon."

4.

You are so brave. So very brave.

Brave leaving the U.A. barrier behind.

Brave reaching the subway station.

Brave sitting at the bus stop.

Brave walking down the street, a couple blocks from home. So nearly home. So nearly safe.

You are so brave.

Until you aren't.

Without ever picking up your keys, or trying your doorknob, or making it to the complex, or anything, you turn around. Maybe you forgot something at the school. Maybe you should be there in case of any late-night emergencies. It's closer to the hospital than your apartment, anyway. 

Coward.

You sign back into U.A., ashamedly more comfortable when you hear the barrier charge up behind you. You creep through the dark halls, automatic lights shifting on and off with your motion. You return to your office, your paperwork, your beanbag chair and your snack fridge.

Coward.

It's just one more night, you promise yourself. You'll work up the courage to go home tomorrow.

But, god, how many times have you told yourself that lie before? How many times have you found nooks to sleep in around this school? How is this still the place you're most comfortable letting your guard down?

Coward.

Chapter Text

1.

You float in circles around your office, four feet off the ground so your ankle doesn't knock into anything, and turn your phone volume high. The cheap, wired headphones blare and buzz, then ring with heavy metal. Cries the ringmaster, " Gaze now upon the tournament of demons and champions !" The in-stadium crowd goes wild and you struggle not to cheer along with them. 

Once every year, the Humanity Unleashed Wrestling Federation holds an event of epic proportions. People love Heroes and they love the U.A. sports festival, as well as international competitions, because the rules that shackle everyone's full potential are lifted. When quirks are in legal use, anything can happen. It's thrilling. It's also dangerous, expensive, and not a good use of the time Pro Heroes should be using to benefit the citizens around them. So to scratch that itch in the meanwhile, many people watch Pro Wrestling, where scripted use of quirks is guaranteed. And even though the fights are planned out, the athleticism and storytelling come together to create something that brings out the ancient, gladiatorial pride in fighters and viewers alike.

This year's Tournament of Nine Hells is special. You have inside knowledge that one of the most popular heels of all time is going to make an appearance. And he's got something big to say, something that has you too nervous to stay on the ground and too excited to stay still. 

But, as is your luck, there is a knock on the office door. You hurry to turn off your screen, hopefully pause to catch up with the live footage later, set the whole thing on your desk in a hurry. You open the door and find not one, not two, but three first year students waiting for your attention. "Gracious, are all of you feeling unwell?"

"No, er…" Denki Kaminari is prompted to step forward by both Mina Ashido and Eijirou Kirishima. "Do you know how to get hands unstuck from, like, jars and stuff?" He holds up his right arm. From the elbow down clings a thick, Crimson Riot limited edition thermos. To demonstrate the problem, Kirishima gives it a yank. All of Kaminari comes along with the effort, almost knocking him off his feet.

You let them in, testing the thermos's hold with a little twist. It's really on there. "Why would you put your hand in there to begin with?"

"That was my fault," says Ashido. She struggles not to laugh, clearly not feeling too guilty about the ordeal. "I dared him to do it because I thought his hand would get trapped, and he bet it wouldn't happen. As you can see, I am the superior intellect today."

"I don't see why you couldn't use your own water bottle," sighs Kirishima. 

"Uh, because there's no way I could have fit my hand in it. Have you seen that thing? It's super narrow."

You roll your eyes and go to look for some vaseline, in the process catching your headphone cord on the edge of your sleeve. They pop out, your phone clatters onto the ground, and Humanity Unleashed Wrestling plays at full volume. You flounder to go grab it up, shut it off, but you are far too late. "Whoa! Nurse L/N, you watch wrestling?!" Kirishima tries to peek around your arm at the screen, and he gasps. "Is that the Nine Hells Tournament?! It's on right now?!"

The kids corner you, all trying to sneak a peek at live programming when they ought to be focused on school. "Is this like some kind of big deal?" asks Ashido. "That's a really dramatic name for a bunch of guys in costumes pretending to punch each other."

"That's not what wrestling is at all! It's super cool and manly, filled with lessons about determination and strength. The Nine Hells Tournament features the nine strongest competitors in the company facing off against a mystery opponent that's been picked specifically to defeat them. If they win, the push they get is immense. Sometimes, winning a Ninth Circle match is a bigger deal than winning a belt."

"Yeah, and what's with the belt thing, anyway? Nobody ever wears pants, so I don't see the point."

Kaminari shushes her. "Can't you just enjoy things without trying to understand them? Cold Lightning is about to come on, that's his theme music! Isn't it great?!"

Ashido isn't sold on the program being watchable until she sees Cold Lightning himself. Big attitude, bright colors and goofball smile. More importantly, though, Cold Lightning has an amazing ass. The camera zooms in on his logo, plastered across those vacuum-packed cheeks, and the pink U.A. student says, "Maybe I should give this a chance after all…"

You hand your phone off to Kirishima, hurrying to shut the door. "Ok, ok, if you promise not to tell anybody about this, you can stay for a while and watch. I have a feeling I won't be able to get this thermos off easily, anyhow." You can only imagine what your coworkers would have to say about you watching this kind of thing, especially during work hours.

"Deal!"

You begin with some basic lotion, but only the very edge of Kaminari's skin feels like coming loose. He doesn't seem to notice your work or mind when you apply pressure, wholly absorbed in the match with his friends. You glance over from time to time, but the man you've been waiting for hasn't come yet. It's not his fight.

"So, tell me more about this Cold Lightning guy. You said he's supposed to be strong or something? What's up with that crazy flash effect that's coming from his hands?"

"That's his quirk. If he hits somebody with that, he can freeze them for a few seconds."

"He's strong, but he's not that strong. He's only been in the company for two years, but he's risen fast. As far as faces go, he's probably going to end up a favorite in the next year or so, since they're giving him a battle here."

"Face?"

"Yeah, and the guy he's fighting is a heel from Mexico!" Kirishima gets the phone taken away by Ashido, because he keeps punching and mimicking the movements of the actors, and it makes it too hard for them to watch the screen. "He's a luchador, which is super bad for Cold Lightning, who prefers to fight big, slow opponents."

"What do you mean heel? He's wearing regular shoes as far as I can tell."

"A face is a hero, a heel is a villain."

"Why don't they just say that?"

You go through the closet looking for other options to get Kaminari's arm free and find a can of WD-40. Perfect. You give it several good shakes, and as you return, you hear the ring announcer shouting and see the look of shock on their young faces. "Damn," murmurs Kirishima. "I didn't think they'd take it that far. Holy shit…"

"Aw man, he was really cute, too."

"Not any more. Unless he knows a really good dentist."

The program follows the chaos of Cold Lightning being taken away in an ambulance, blame being placed backstage, and the wicked standing supreme over good. This match goes down in favor of the demons. 

You get the little plastic straw between the canister and the student's arm and spray. "That's cold!" he shouts.

"Sorry, darling. Are you all right?"

"Yeah, it just surprised me. Uh, hey… That feels like it did something!" He wiggles his arm. Nothing gives, but you trust he has a better idea of what's going on in there than you. You continue to apply spray, going around to hit as much surface area as possible.

Out comes the next challenger. Amidst the wail of string instruments, the banshee scream of electric violin that collapses into electric guitar, appears a gentleman. He drips with ego, his hands raised to gesture that he welcomes the crowd's sneers and boos. Kirishima trembles in rage, fist balled and teeth barred. "That's Faux. He's been part of an alliance of faces, but last month… Out of nowhere, he stabbed all of them in the back. He betrayed his own brothers for a chance to get into this tournament. They say Paz is never going to be able to walk again."

"I can't believe he would do that to the man who took him in after his car accident. That's super not cool, man. Faux is a dick."

"You guys do know this is all fake, right?" asks Ashido. "Like, they didn't really cripple a guy. I'm pretty sure."

"That's not the point!"

You start tugging and find the thermos almost ready to give. Excellent! Now it's just a matter of…

His music starts to play. You drop everything to take your seat and watch the tournament. Your heart races. It's time. It's happening.

They hear that cue, they see the steam rising in the darkness, and they're struck into awe and silence. "Who is this guy?" asks Ashido. "What's going on?" But she must be able to tell from the way the crowd stops dead, not believing their ears, that this man is something else entirely. And once they see his face, once he starts to walk down that ramp, it doesn't matter if nobody can hear his theme music. Everybody knows it by heart, and everyone there in person is screaming the lyrics. 

You can't blow me down. You can't blow me out. Steam engines screaming through the night.

The Iron Kettle takes the stage, rockets into the ring and spills over with plumes of hot steam. He forces Faux out before the match even begins, the junior wrestler looking like a pathetic coward to anybody who doesn't know who this man is.

Kettle is a legend. Kettle is a master. He's been the company's ace in the hole for decades, but his appearances dwindle year by year. He has family to think about, and his own health. As his matches become scarce, they also become rare, and they escalate to ever higher heights. It's been three months since his last in-ring appearance.

And last time? He burned the ring down with his boot on his opponent, laughing as security tried hopelessly to save a man marked for hellish punishment.

Iron Kettle takes a microphone. His voice booms as he points at Faux, and the stage is his. The world is his. Kettle knows how to fill any room he walks into, no matter the size. "Do you think I'll let you run away after what you've done?"

Sure enough, the exits are all blocked by shady looking men in business suits and sunglasses, their lapels decorated with Iron Kettle's colors. His soldiers. His loyal dogs, ready to bite if Faux should be foolish enough to flee the fight he's been begging for.

"I'm no young man, Faux. I'm no fool. Sometimes to get ahead in this world, a man needs to throw his scraps aside and charge forward. Charge through them. But… But… You went too damn far, you rotten weasel." His shoulders, metal pipes, armor, spill hot steam in every direction and the light shutters red. Hell has come. "The moment you involved Paz's children is the moment you signed your own execution order! We don't threaten kids, Faux! Consider yourself terminated from the Brotherhood of Steam! And prepare for a second, much more painful termination…"

There it is, the dog whistle. So loud and clear it could bleed the ears of the underworld. From the single most influential, televised Villain in Japan, comes the message that even Heros' children are children, and they're off limits. You hold your hand over your heart, feeling a particular arrhythmia finally settle after days of apprehension. "I love that man," you titter.

"Iron Kettle is amazing," says Kirishima. "He's not always a great guy, but he always sticks to his morals, no matter what. Plus, the way he loves and respects his wife, the way he celebrates her? That's the way real men should be toward their partners all the time."

Iron Kettle is relentless to Faux, catharsis for the abused. You doubt it's a mistake they put him against Faux, who is thin and pale and a character amalgamated of fraudsters, leeches, cowards, and traitors. It's a biting insult. This is how the underworld sees Shigaraki now, the man who led a legion of violent fools to failure in an attempt to hurt literal children.

You hear a wet pop, followed by a loud, metal clatter on the tile floor. "Sweet, the thermos fell off! Here you go, man."

Kirishima sniffs it. "Uh… Wash it first."

2.

"What has you down, Midoriya my boy?"

"It's stupid. Not a big deal," he says. He pours tea for himself and for his mentor. After he sips it, he looks up to find All Might still concerned, still interested. He swallows his pride. "I was absent when the listings were posted for Hero Appreciation Day volunteer work. I didn't manage to get anything lined up. It's tomorrow, but…"

"You don't get many long weekends at U.A.," encourages All Might. "Perhaps this is a sign you should use the extra time to study and rest. Especially after so many injuries, you might need to give yourself time to recover."

"But I feel fine. And it means a lot to me that I be able to help somehow. Heroes do amazing work, all the time, putting their lives on the line. Sometimes people forget they aren't just there for show. I've always done something for Appreciation Day." He sets the tea aside, unsatisfied with the flavor but unwilling to tell All Might, who seems to like it. It's a little too earthy. Tastes like dirt. "I thought about asking to help at Might Tower, but maybe that would be more of a burden than anything."

All Might reclines on the sofa, scratching his chin, considering something. "No, I don't have anything for you to do for me. Besides, I already know you appreciate me, my boy. You don't need to go out of your way for that."

"Yeah, but…"

"There is a job you could do for somebody else, though, as a favor to me. I'll even sign off on your volunteer sheet for it."

"Really? Of course, anything you need!"

"Nurse L/N has an agency reunion to go to tomorrow. Could you escort her there and back?"

It sounds easy, deceptively so. Midoriya wants to agree immediately because he idolizes his Hero, but the mention of F/N L/N gives him pause. 'Friends in high school', that's what he insists their relationship is. But the pictures, the way they talk about each other, the way he's clearly worried about her outside of school? It's adding up to be more than Izuku can deny. Maybe, just maybe, they really did date in high school. Maybe they're dating now.

That would explain so much, wouldn't it?

"Yeah… I can do that, no problem. Is she okay? Is this because you're worried about… the thing we talked about, on the phone that one time?"

Something dark shifts across his face. In his smaller form, All Might rarely smiles— but rarely, too, does he look so uncomfortable. "Because I've asked you to protect her, I will let you in on this. But you can't talk about it to anyone else."

There's been a lot of that ever since he agreed to inherit One For All. "I promise."

"Somebody broke into her home. It was the night following the USJ attack."

And then Izuku understands something new. He understands the dread his mentor is feeling. He understands the fear. Even if L/N is truly just a friend and coworker, the threats upon her life must make him feel helpless and angry. If somebody broke into his home, Midoriya knows he wouldn't be able to sleep for worry about his mother. And so soon after her workplace was under attack? It could be a coincidence, but that should not be trusted.

Nurse L/N's apartment isn't far from his. Midoriya supposes he ought to check by her place more often. If it helps even a little, it's worth the effort.

3.

It's time for another monthly check-up with Recovery Girl. After school ends, when there are no students around to catch him, he goes to the nursing office hoping to find the elder Medic. Instead, there is F/N, typing diligently, nose crinkled in focus and determination. She squints over something on the screen, mouths the words she's reading. Toshinori can't read lips, but he's staring and trying to decipher her curiosity. The faintest ghost of her quirk twirls from beneath her tongue, only to fizzle away an inch from her chin. Purple. What combination of thought and emotion makes for that hue, he wonders? What effect might her quirk have on the taste of those lips?

He knocks, gentle, knuckles on the metal frame. "Chiyo didn't force you to take over my appointment, did she?"

She shakes her head. "No, she's going to be here. Running late is all. And once she arrives, I promise to be out of your hair." At last, F/N glances over at him. "Have a seat, get comfortable. Eraserhead is gone already. It's just you and me for a little bit."

Toshinori shuts them in and looks around. The nursing office is clean and organized, with binders no longer waiting on the table to be sorted. She must be stashing them elsewhere, or have the shelf organized. The room smells nice. It smells like her— sweet and crisp and refreshing. There's a brightness, but he doesn't know what to owe it to. "Something in here is different," he murmurs. He sets his teaching work on the table and finds the spare office chair, still puzzling, still clueless. "Did you change the curtains, maybe?"

"No, I can't say I have."

There's a book under one table leg to balance it better. The window curtain's cord has been tied in a bow. There's a strange new variety of pens and pencils in cups around the office. Little touches everywhere. Tiny things that make it feel homey, lived-in.

Lived-in .

She's been spending more time here, he realizes. Has she been home? He isn't sure how to bring it up without upsetting her, especially since she's so hard at work. Her little fingers click away. Probably, she doesn't have that problem he suffers from, where he hits three keys at a time going for just one. Big hands come with big disadvantages. "I hope you're still planning to go to your agency's reunion."

"I sent an email letting them know I'll be there. Can't chicken out if I know I've already got it in stone on my calendar."

"That's excellent! In that case, I hope you don't mind that I arranged to have a student accompany you."

She stops typing. Fuck. She's mad.

Of course she's mad. Toshinori feels like a moron having ever assumed otherwise. She got so upset about how he invaded her privacy with Tsukauchi, and F/N has never liked feeling vulnerable. She doesn't trust him to lift her up, why did he assume he could get away with assigning her a babysitter? A child babysitter?

"That's fine," she says and goes back to typing. "It's good for the students to meet a variety of Heroes, and I know my former Sidekicks love to meet upcoming talent. Hopefully, Terex doesn't try to use me to snipe the students she's interested in for internships." Click, click, click . She highlights something and erases all of it, back to square one. "What about you? Any plans for Hero Appreciation Day?"

He shakes his head, then realizes she can't see him if she isn't looking. Can't expect her to stare at him the way he stares at her, he supposes. "Not really. These days, I like to just be ready for anything. I don't commit to many plans."

"You aren't going to call Sir Nighteye? Let him know you appreciate him?"

"… I think that would be a bad idea."

"You're here encouraging me to speak with my old Sidekicks, telling me about how I might never get another chance and regret it. But I'm not exactly terminal. You, though?" She hits the enter key a few times, then flips the monitor off and swivels to face him. F/N has to get out of the chair and push it in order to roll to the table. "You really wouldn't regret never talking to him again? I can't pretend to know what happened between the two of you, but it's pretty obvious there's bad blood of some variety, and you used to be really close."

Close. It's strange to think he knew Mirai Sasaki longer than F/N, almost two years longer. They got along, they worked well together, they were good friends. And then there were complicated things. Work things. Knowing each other too well things. Knowing too well how to hurt the other's feelings things. In spite of time, he never got close with Mirai the way he used to be close to F/N. But he sure fucked up the relationship just as spectacularly. A hidden talent of his, one that hits harder than One For All. "I don't think he really wants to know how I am. Last we spoke, it was an argument about my health, and him pushing me to end my career. And I… Well? I am here, still. I will be until the bitter end."

"If that's the position you took, I can understand why his feelings might be hurt. It's not easy to watch somebody you love deteriorate and know there's nothing you can do about it."

"Do you agree with him, then?" He pretends to open his papers to the right point, but he doesn't have a clue. He's not reading or paying attention. His mind is a million miles away. "Do you think I should have just retired and robbed the world of the Symbol of Peace? When people were afraid and needed me?"

"No, but I disagree less out of concern for the populace and more out of concern for you. I think you'd do poorly in retirement." She picks through his work for him, and he surrenders all of it. It's a headache, this whole curriculum. He doesn't know where to start, how to start, how to find the time or focus. "I think you'd be bored, and feel guilty, and dry up like an old spider in the sun. We'd find you belly-up, all curled and crinkley."

Apart from the spider comparison, he agrees.

Because F/N gets it. She understands him, somehow. Occasionally better than he understands himself.

She whistles, remarking upon the stack. "This is an awful lot of information to pour through. What's it all for?"

"Since Aizawa is hurt, I've been trying to pick up some slack in the 1-A Heroics course. I use half of my time to do Hero work, half to teach. A few minutes of wiggle room here and there, but it's tight. These are all of his notes, curriculum goals, drill layouts… And I think most of them are way out of my ability to pull off." He sighs, resting his head in his hands, not sure he feels relieved to admit this shame. "I can barely keep track of their names and faces. Eraser, meanwhile, is already trying to figure out what type of advanced training each student might need come summer session. I'm in over my head here."

"Eraserhead is the leader of the program, I can hardly expect you to keep up with what he had in mind. You're only teaching for the first time. You should focus on what you can bring to the table that nobody else can, instead of trying to be Eraserhead."

"Wonderful. I will shower them with my mysterious absences, and outdated taste in music, and inability to understand their memes. It will go over so well." It's overwhelming. He knows he needs to do better than this, to be a better teacher for all of them, Midoriya included. But where is the time? Where is the energy? Where is his spirit, passion, fire? "I feel like a stranger to them, and I know I don't have enough time to spare to get to know them all personally. I want to make these huge, great impacts on their lives. As All Might: Hero, I do. I fight, I protect, I stand for something. As All Might: Teacher? I can't even tie my own laces. I feel like a moron."

She nods along, always listening, always thinking. He expects the day to come where she calls his concerns stupid and petty. Tell him to stop complaining about his job at the best school in the nation, teaching the brightest Heroes of tomorrow. "That is quite the conundrum."

She briefly returns to the computer, producing a black binder and flipping through it to finally put all the papers in the rings. Must be done getting scanned, he supposes. How many has she finished? How many are there?

After a bit, she remarks, "I've been thinking about posting information pamphlets about gender and sexual orientation among the other health booklets, so the students can take them if they have questions they don't want to ask about in person."

"That… came out of nowhere. But okay. That sounds like something to look into. Why bring it up?"

F/N shrugs. "We have a few hundred students here. Statistically, some of them are going to be different. Hero society doesn't like to talk about being gay, or trans, or ace, or any of it. But it's filled with people who are, and who hide parts of themselves, sometimes forever. Even if it's not a journey these kids want any of us to share in, we should provide them every means we can to figure out who they are and support them as they grow into their own skin. Because it's not very fun, is it, to feel like you're burdened with a massive, painful secret that you can't share with the world? Because you might be judged and scorned? Because you might disappoint the people you love and who love you?"

Of all the conversations he expected, this isn't it. And that's exactly how F/N has always been. A dangerous left jab, a hook out of nowhere that knocks him off balance. "I, uh… I guess I do remember an article a few years ago that got under my skin at the time. About how Hero Appreciation Day rings a bit hollow when… Anyway, yes, I think it's a good idea to post pamphlets. I can bring it up at the teacher's meeting for you, if you'd like."

She looks at him for a long time, as if she expects him to say something else, something more dramatic. He shrugs. He has no clue what she expects of him. He's just a withered man, after all. He's just a dead legend, still swaying on that last leg.

And at last, she beats him to death with her point. "Toshi, I can't force you to come out of the closet, but you and I both know you're bisexual. You seem to think your only value comes in what you can physically do for others, and you forget that you, as a person, as a figure, are beloved. You've helped people laugh through their fear, you've helped them sleep through the night, and you have always, always, always led the way for the rest of us without realizing it. We're chasing that comet trail you leave behind, always looking first to you when we want to discern wrong from right." When she slides forward, her hand wraps around his. Both of them. She squeezes his fingers and Toshi wonders if something in her quirk has spilled over, because he feels like he's floating. He feels dizzy, lifted off the ground. "How much would it mean for some kid, who has never felt safe admitting who they are to themselves, to hear All Might say, 'I am your ally. And you, too, are precious in this world, no matter what.' How much would it have meant to young Toshinori to know that Yoshie Kuesa was pansexual?"

"Quasar was pansexual?!"

She laughs. "The actor who played him in the original film, yes, identified as pan."

"Wow…" It's so strange, but she has a point. When he was fifteen, and having his first crisis, and paranoid about the perceptions of the world? It would have been nice to have somebody to look up to. A guidepost. A symbol. "You always amaze me with that insight. You amaze me with everything."

The compliment rolls off of F/N, who finishes clipping her binder together and starts to collect her coat. Not her purse. Recovery Girl will be here soon, but she's not packed to go permanently. "I'm nothing special. I just care too much about too many people."

"Of course you do. ‘I'll save everyone’, remember? You're always trying to, just like me."

"Let's not compare tin to gold. Next to you, I haven't accomplished anything worth celebrating."

But that isn't true. F/N has always been exceptional. He hates himself for not speaking up and saying so, but Recovery Girl arrives, and the conversation comes to an abrupt close.

"Tell me he didn't adjust my chair settings again."

4.

Toshi can tell Gran Torino missed having electricity based on the number of fans running in their classroom at once. Five. It's a struggle to keep their papers from flying away and their books on the correct pages, but nobody is complaining. If they never make progress in another textbook as long as they live, at least they'll be cool.

When the lecture reaches a lull, there's a knock on the door. Torino sighs, snaps his book together, and goes to answer it. But whatever annoyed answer he was going to give, it evaporates, and there is only startled silence for several seconds. "Hello?" he settles on, which makes Toshinori curious. He's never seen anything throw his teacher off like this.

"Hi! This is Class A, right? I'm looking for F/N L/N."

"She's…" Torino wanders back in, just a few steps, and points at the back of the room, at F/N. All eyes flick to her. She's made to come to the door.

Is she in trouble? Toshi worries. F/N must be worried, too, because she nudges his hand as she passes. The look on her face tells him she's as lost as he is. 

And when she sees whatever is in the hall? She, like Torino, freezes. The stranger greets her, taking her away from their view as Torino struggles to get the door closed and his class back in order.

"Recovery Girl?! What are you doing here?!" they hear F/N say from outside.

"No way." Kazan Dansa rises from his seat, already next to the other exit, and presses his ear against the wall. "There is no fucking way."

"Sit back down!"

But most of the class has already taken Dansa's lead. They scramble up, climbing over one another to get a good eavesdropping location, to slide the other door open and peek out into the hall. Toshi tries to shove his way through, but it's no good. Is this real? It can't really be the top healer in Japan in their school, can it?

But then he hears it. That squeal. That joyous, unbelieving scream.

She did it, he realizes. She got the internship. His whole chest lights up and aches, thinking about how hard she worked, how happy and proud he is for her.

He can't wait to tell her all about the look on Dansa's face.

Chapter Text

1.

Izuku considers wearing his Hero gear to the meet-up, but decides against it. This is an escort mission, but it's also meant to be kept discreet. Nurse L/N will be safer with less attention drawn to her movements. He dresses down, plain colors and unimpressive fashion, and waits for her to arrive at the platform where All Might promised she'd be. Sure enough, as the noon sun reaches its peak, he finds her stepping off her bus and waving toward him. He helps her down the stairs, remembering her ankle injury all too well. 

"I suppose I should have known it would be you, darling. Thank you for the help."

"No problem! I'm happy to be here. I can't wait to meet the Heroes you used to work with!" He figures they must be other medics, but then she hands him the invitation and address. "You worked with Crane Arm Hero: Terex?!"

"Goodness, I hardly expect you to know her. Her agency only opened this year, as far as I can remember."

As they begin on their way, Izuku spills over with excitement. "Of course I know who she is! She's one of the most versatile Heroes in Musutafu, so she gets called out to all kinds of emergencies. I've seen footage of her in combat, catching and restraining the Sour Water Villain. And I've also read about how she was able to rescue three dozen people on her own from a chasm that split open after an earthquake, all before emergency services could even find her location. And her zip-jump! She reached the top of the Heaven's Needle building in ten seconds!"

He fumbles his backpack off, checking to make sure he has his notebooks. The one that features Terex isn't with him, but he figures he can transfer paper later, or redo his information section entirely. "I'm pretty sure she's ranked at one-twenty-three this year. Do you know what the maximum reach of her arms is? Or how strong the wires really are? Is she as tall as she looks on television?"

"You'll be free to ask her all that and more when we arrive. I'm sure she'll be delighted to tell you." The city shrinks and scatters, merchant businesses giving way to organizations and agencies. Big fountains, fancy, eye-catching installations, imported trees. Some of the offices tower overhead, suggesting myriad employment. None of these are Terex's building, however. How long does a Hero have to work to afford a place like these? Making commission based on response and rank, it might be possible the first year if somebody managed to become Number One. Garden flowers and food delivery services draw his attention. There aren't many pedestrians at this hour besides himself and L/N, in spite of the holiday. 

The parades, he realizes. Other Heroes are at big events. Whatever this is, it's a small and intimate party, probably for close friends. It feels secret. Exciting. "Who else is going to be at your reunion?"

"I'm not sure who will make it other than myself and Terex. I suppose we'll just have to see. Midoriya, darling, may I ask you something?"

"Mhm." He checks the address card again. It must be much further this way, but they're on the right street. There's no hints about other guests on the invitation.

"Do you know something about All Might that other people aren't supposed to?"

He realizes she's waited until nobody else was around to speak to him like this. He realizes there was probably a shorter route to Terex's agency. "I…" He realizes he's in trouble. He can't betray All Might, but he also isn't sure how much she knows, or is allowed to know. "What do you mean?" He's sweating. He hopes it doesn't show through his shirt.

"Well, you're a very observant young man. You pick up on details, you investigate, you collect information and do your math. You also spend an awful lot of time around Tosh… around All Might. The kind of time that might suggest a more personal relationship than teacher and student."

Oh no. Oh shit. What is he going to say? How can he answer this without getting in trouble? Should he call All Might? What if he's wrong, and she doesn't know about his health, and All Might intends to keep it from her?

"Darling, it might sound insane, but are you blackmailing All Might?"

"Wh… WHAT?!"

"Shh, shh." She stops him and covers his mouth, expression deathly serious. "Be honest with me. You know about it, don't you?"

He opens his mouth. Closes it. Looks around for help, as if some Hero might come out and rescue him from an interrogation. But that won't happen. He has to face this on his own. "I… I'm not blackmailing him."

"But you know. You know about his…" Her hand, subtly, rests on her left side, tracing the spot All Might showed him. The scar from that terrible battle.

But she doesn't know about One For All. If she did, it's something All Might would have told him by now. She has no idea how they know each other, except this theory she's come up with. And Izuku doesn't blame her. It makes sense. Somebody with inside information like the Symbol of Peace's weak spot could levy for a spot in U.A., for private interviews, for anything in All Might's power to give. "Yes," he murmurs. "But I promise I'm not blackmailing him. I would never do that."

For now, this answer satisfies her. She nods and they continue on their way.

Terex Agency is among the smaller, humble headquarters. And it's still massive. Five floors, a building that encircles a courtyard of some variety. He and Nurse L/N wait in the lobby, where Izuku admires an elaborate pond filled with a variety of small fish and exotic plants. The gleaming, white walls are decorated in framed certificates, awards, all manner of achievements worth bragging about. The high ceilings are far out of reach— he would have to use his quirk if he wanted to touch a panel. His feet are the only thing making sound on cold, polished tile— Nurse L/N is floating now that she's on private property.

"One… two… three Sidekicks," muses Nurse L/N, looking at the directory on the wall, as well as some employee portraits behind the front desk. "Good for her."

Izuku peers over, trying to recognize the faces.

Something snaps around L/N's waist. It yanks her back. She shrieks.

He whips around and tries to catch the attack, tries to grab the wire but— too slow. She's all the way across the room.

It's not an attack, he realizes. Looming above L/N is the Crane Arm Hero herself, a mischievous smile across her dark lips. Her hand and forearm— on the end of high-density wires— retract back into her elbow. With her quirk hidden, Terex is the very picture of elegance, clad in black with lace fringes. "You look like you needed your back cracked, old lady."

Nurse L/N huffs and puts both hands on her waist. A little red cloud froths out, but she swallows it just as Izuku jogs back to her side. "I would chew you out for scaring me, but that did end up feeling nice. Ahem . Terex, this is Izuku Midoriya, a student in the U.A. Hero course. Midoriya, this is Terex."

Terex is nine and a half feet tall, two feet taller than All Might when he's standing in his best posture. She towers, her fair features melding with her warlike ones. Izuku is dizzy and trying to hold his bravery under the gaze of this giantess. Her smile, a sliver, sends electricity down his spine. He's barely tall enough to look squarely at her belt buckle. Midoriya bows in a hurry, worried he's already offended their host. "It's an honor to meet you, ma'am!"

Her hand lowers to lift his chin and initiate a handshake. "A pleasure, Mister Midoriya." Looking into her eyes makes his heart race. She's gorgeous. "U.A., though? Is he your Medical apprentice, F/N?"

"No, no. I'm a nurse at the school. Midoriya is accompanying me as volunteer work, as none of us should be alone or unaccounted for following… You understand." USJ, that's what they must be talking about. Terex doesn't know about the break-in, and Midoriya bets L/N hasn't said anything about the strangling attempt either. 

The giantess tilts her head, inquisitive. "You're working at U.A.? Isn't that--"

"Midoriya happens to be a big fan of All Might," interrupts L/N. "He has a somewhat similar quirk, and much of the same determination and kindness. It's been a dream of his to work with the Number One himself, and it was actually All Might who suggested somebody walk me across town."

Why bring that up all of a sudden? Whatever the reason, Terex's body language changes. She's tense, or maybe annoyed. Perhaps it was a bad idea for him to come after all. "I'm sorry if I'm interrupting a private ceremony or something. I… I can wait outside."

"Aw, let the kid stay," says a man approaching from behind. Everyone turns to the doors to witness the entrance of a gentleman with salted hair, wearing a neon pink eye mask with civilian clothes. "It's going to feel too lonely around here if we don't add a few extra faces to the crowd."

"You're Drunktank Pink!" yells Izuku, unable to contain his surprise. "The Weakening Hero! You— you're an amazing combat-support Hero!"

His smile and laugh are weary. "Amazing? I don't know about that. Thanks, kid."

Midoriya fumbles through his bag, finally remembering his notebook. "Is… Is it okay for me to get all of your autographs?"

Terex chuckles. Her fine control over her limbs is astounding. She snags his pen, flips it in the air, and writes her name all in one bold stroke. Wow. He hopes, when his quirk has really settled into his body, he'll have that kind of body awareness. "How is that?"

"Perfect! Thank you so much!" Once Drunktank has finished hugging L/N, Izuku passes his notebook to the Weakening Hero. There's no reason for Drunktank Pink to be so humble. His quirk allows him to produce a wide sheet of varying length and width. Anything stuck to or wrapped in said sheet becomes fatigued. His track record for captures is impressive, and he's never had to seriously injure a Villain in his whole career. His abilities are best utilized in a team, which is fine, because the Forbidden Colors agency is close-knit. Midoriya supposes they have to be. The industry hasn't been especially kind to people who are too different, whether it be because of their appearance, their love, or their quirk. "Thank you," he says after he has the autograph. 

"Any time. Ah, I was going to apologize for being late, but I see we're still waiting on a few."

"I'm surprised you made it," says Terex. "I thought your group would have plans for Hero Appreciation. I even gave my Sidekicks the day off so they could join the festivities."

"Oh, you know the Council and Commission. They're 'just not comfortable sharing a day of triumph with your kind of people '. You know?"

"I'm sorry, DT. I didn't know--"

"It's fine. We've decided to be petty about it and have our own parade tomorrow."

The doors open and two more arrive at the Terex Agency. An ordinary looking man, somebody Midoriya can't discern a special identity for, pushes a woman in a wheelchair. The woman, though, is recognizable at a glance. Her head is crowned with translucent tentacles and a bioluminescent parasol. The Aquatic Environmental Hero: Moon Mane has jellyfish features, lives on a research vessel, and almost never comes to shore. Controlling jellyfish overpopulation has become her full-time job, as well as combating pollution, and collecting data from the ocean surrounding Japan. It's a surprise to see her limited to a wheelchair on land. Izuku has seen plenty of footage of how she moves underwater. She's fast, flexible, and creative. 

Moon Mane waves and calls her former coworkers in, threatening to rise from her chair out of sheer excitement. "Look at all of you! Oh my goodness, hello everyone! This is lovely! And what a beautiful pond you've set up for the ceremony, Terex. Color me impressed."

"Thanks, but my designer deserves the praise. I gave him basic instructions and he went wild, so I'll be sure to let him know you approve."

"I do, I do!" She beams at Midoriya. "Who's the little cutie pie? F/N, is this your son?"

Son? "I-I'm Izuku Midoriya, a Hero student! I'm here to help Nurse L/N. You're--"

"Aww!" Moon Mane reaches out and pinches both of Izuku's cheeks. The subtle venom on her fingertips makes his skin numb where she touches. "A tiny bodyguard! That's so sweet. Hello, Izuku Midoriya. I am Moon Mane. And this is Relay!"

The man behind her, still holding her wheelchair's handle, smiles briefly. Then he excuses himself. "I need to go get the tanks out of the van. I'll be back."

While Midoriya tries to get Moon Mane to sign his notebook, Drunktank Pink claps his hands together. "That leaves one more. Once Launchpad gets here--"

"He's not coming." Terex folds her arms, shakes her head. "He let me know by mailing the invitation back in shreds. I think it's safe to say he's not in the mood to make any public appearances."

Nurse L/N sighs. "I can't say I blame him. But it's Hero Appreciation Day, and if leaving him alone is what will make him feel appreciated, he's entitled to it."

"But it's so sad. It's not the same without him." Moon Mane droops, her blue glow fading to betray heartbreak. "He used to be such a happy kid. I made sure to find the perfect fish to represent just that personality."

After a mournful pause, Terex gestures to Izuku. "Since he's here, we should let Midoriya release Launchpad's koi. He's a fitting substitute. Has the spirit."

"That would be adorable! What do you think, could you do that for us?"

Midoriya nods, not sure exactly what he's agreeing to. Koi? Release? Once Relay returns, it starts to make sense. He has a cart, and in tanks that he wheels in are several especially beautiful fish. Their flashy patterns match the color schemes of the Heroes present, and a few that aren't. Under Moon Mane's instruction, each person in attendance is made to pick up a fish and transfer it to the big pond. "A new home for old souls," she says to Terex. "So a piece of all of us will be with you as your agency grows."

For Terex, a black fish with flecks of gold and orange and white stray scales on its side and belly. For Drunktank Pink, a faintly sakura-colored koi that tries to jump out of his hands. Relay places a beige fish in the water, but its whiskers are especially long and thick. Moon Mane dons gloves to move hers, which is blotted with blue specks, and looks like it's eaten more than its fair share of fish food.

Izuku figures the fish he's handed must represent Launchpad, a Hero he's never heard of. It's yellow and orange, a beautiful but small koi, with a pale belly and golden-white fins. It's slimy and it struggles. He fears equally dropping the fish and being too rough with it, so he's very fast about the transfer. Terex grabs him by the collar so he doesn't fall in along with the excitable animal.

L/N releases hers next, a fish that is the whitest of all, with a single, pink line perfectly down the spine. It swims slowly, calm, perhaps used to this treatment. She doesn't even get splashed.

One final creature remains. It is a green koi, its tail unusually long, its scales gleaming like gemstones hidden among moss. "Which one of us should release Jade's?" asks Moon Mane. "Terex, would you like to?"

"I… It feels wrong of me to do that. It's not my place."

"It's your agency, though."

"Yes, but… It should be F/N," she says.

Nurse L/N doesn't seem to agree. She wipes her hands on a towel provided by Relay. "I don't think it matters all that much, darling. You ought to put the poor thing in its new water and close out the ceremony."

Terex shakes her head, adamant. Izuku isn't sure how L/N can stand to argue with somebody almost three times her size. "I wasn't the one who carried us to the end. After Jade, it was you. As our leader, you should be the one to finish this."

"I'm nobody's leader. I was the head of the agency for a month. It wasn't important enough to--"

Drunktank stops her, takes her by her newly dry hands, and brings her to that big, green fish. "Hon," he says. "One last time, you need to help us let go of Jade Cannon."

Moon Mane is crying, Midoriya realizes. So is Relay, though he's better at hiding it. The Hero student isn't sure he understands quite what's going on between all of them, or who Jade Cannon was. Somebody they knew couldn't be here, he supposes. With her own tears threatening to spill over, Nurse L/N wrestles the big koi out of its temporary tank. It flops in her arms, nearly knocking her over. But she floats against it, heaves, and drops it into the pond with a mighty splash. It darts away, out of sight to some distant corner of the enclosure.

Nurse L/N clears her throat. "We aim for the sun."

All of the other Heroes, in time with Anodyne, say, "We rise and fall together."

2.

You catch up with Toshi after school, all too aware he's in need of band-aids and healing smog. He tries to open his bruised eye, but you slap a cold can of grape juice over it and focus on his busted knuckles. "You gotta stop letting Gran Torino hit you like this," you tell him, not for the first time.

"I know. We're working on dodging, I'm just not good at it yet."

"Yeah, I can see that." You'd like to give him some advice, but you have no idea what he's actually going through. These practices are private, which makes them worrisome. It seems like the kind of thing that should be reported to the school, or to police, but Toshinori always ignores that suggestion and returns for more pain. Since he won't end this by going over Torino's head, he ought to at least be willing to fight with dirty tactics and get his face kicked in less. If it was you? You bet you could take Gran Torino out. It would be nasty and unfair and you'd make an enemy of him, but you'd get it done. "What do you wanna do about this, Toshi? You're going to lose teeth at this rate."

"No, I'm okay. I really am getting better. I think."

Thanks to the frequency of boo-boos you've been patching up, you have too. You can tell your quirk is stronger than it was at the beginning of the year. You can feel your special, internal organs swollen with extra heat and muscle. If only you didn't need to be around disaster to gain experience.

He's not going to let you fix this and he isn't going to do anything about it himself. You might as well find a way to distract him and yourself from the pain. "So… what do you think about going to InterCon and watching the quirk competitions?"

Toshi sighs dreamily. He lays back in the grass and looks at the clouds. "Wouldn't that be great? Someday, I want to get front-row seats to an International Hero Convention's arena, really see how the Pros from around the world do it. I heard there's going to be a ton of American Heroes there this year, and some of them are so cool." His tone turns blue. "It's too bad tickets are so expensive. If I win a lifetime supply of ramen and I don't need to worry about feeding myself for a month, maybe then I could afford a ticket."

You reach into your purse, pull out two strips of laminated paper, and drop them on Toshi's chest. "I mean, what do you think about going to InterCon with me ?"

He sits up, holds the tickets, gawks at them. "Are these booth-access? How did you get these?!"

"Well…" You clear your throat. Damn, this makes you nervous. It would be one thing if you were using these to ask him out, but this is just between friends. It shouldn't inject butterflies in your guts. "My internship with Recovery Girl is paid. And since I'm making my own money, I figured I could afford to have some fun with it. Plus, my mom got something like a promotion. New boss has her doing different work, and it pays better."

"F/N, are you sure about this? I mean, I would love to go with you! But… But these tickets are probably worth more than I am, so maybe you should… I don't know. Should you take your mom instead?"

"I think I'd rather rip them up than subject myself to that torture. Seriously, Toshi, I want to go with you. What could be better than going to InterCon with my best friend?"

He clutches his heart, all drama, all play. "Best friend," he chuckles. "I'm so touched."

"Yeah, yeah. Let me see that eye again. You're not going to have as much fun if you're watching the games half-blind."

3.

Once out of Terex's agency, you are happy to answer all the small, random questions Izuku didn't get a chance to ask your former coworkers. "Relay's quirk allows him to pick up on signals. Radio, cell phone… anything auditory, I think. He mostly works dispatch these days."

"What about Launchpad? The guy who didn't want to come? Who is he?"

"He…" You aren't sure who he is anymore. You can only tell Izuku about the person you remember, and that wasn't somebody who would ever have torn up an invitation to see his friends. "He was the youngest sidekick at our agency. Very passionate, very excitable. He looked up to all of us like we were far greater than we were. Actually, he was also a huge fan of All Might."

Until he wasn't.

"Everyone was really nice. Thank you for introducing me to them. I know I got assigned to guard you, but this ended up feeling more like a fun field trip than work."

"I'm glad to hear it. And thank you for helping with the fish, darling."

"Was Jade Cannon the name of the Hero who used to be your boss? The Agency's head?" He's a smart kid, he pays attention when you wish he wouldn't. You weren't hiding the past, but you don't love the idea of dredging it back up, either. "I don't know if I've ever heard that name."

"They were a little before your time. Nothing to feel guilty about."

"What were they like?"

"Jade? Let's see…" Where to begin? There are too many things you could say about your old boss. Most of them sting to think about, let alone form words around. "Jade always put action ahead of thought. If there was something to be done, if there was an attack or an emergency, it didn't matter how ill-suited to help Jade was. They would be there and they would help. They fought harder than anybody, all the time, for everything they ever got. And even though that should have been exhausting, Jade was also always the first to stand up and fight our battles with us. They loved controversy, and combat, and justice. They were… a bit like your classmate, Katsuki Bakugou, if I had to make a comparison."

Midoriya cringes. "In that case, they sound pretty intense. I don't know if we would have gotten along."

"Jade Cannon would have liked you fine," you assure. And it's true. This skinny kid, dopey looking, just a little pathetic? Jade would have tried to adopt him, probably, and then gone to war against anybody who tried to shake his faith in Heroism or bump him off his path. 

You miss Jade Cannon. 

As agencies fade and regular office buildings spring up, you see a crowd gathered. Something is amiss. Midoriya notices as well, and begins to take a position between you and the busy street.

Police vehicles gather, dozens of them parked with lights on and sirens off at the base of a twenty-story structure. You notice a few company cars as well. There are already Heroes present to deal with whatever is going on. But you can't help being curious.

Midoriya's keener eyes spot the problem. He freezes in the middle of the sidewalk, takes your hand to stop you, and points at the top.

Somebody is threatening to jump.

"… Darling, help me get over to those other Heroes. I want to see if they need backup."

He nods. Midoriya is not brave about shoving people aside, so when the crowd in front of the police tape grows too thick, you have to go on ahead of him. You prepare your ID, sail over the civilians, and present your qualifications to the first Hero you see. "I'm Anodyne, a Medical Hero. Can you brief me on this situation?" Midoriya finally manages to catch up to you, wheezing and disheveled from being squished. You take him by the hand so others know he's with you, allowed to cross the line. 

Death Arms returns your ID and gestures to speak further ahead, away from eavesdroppers, next to those who are already familiar with the emergency at hand. "We've got a Villain who locked themselves on the roof. Some kind of argument broke out between them and a supervisor in this office building, got out of hand. Nobody is seriously injured. Yet."

"How long has this standoff been going on?"

"More than forty-five minutes now."

Too long. At any point, this person could panic and leap. That's why the police haven't gone up there, you figure. And maybe out of fear. "Is there anybody who can get to the roof without setting things off?"

"We requested help, but all of the flight-based Heroes are unavailable." The streets are blocked, choked with cops and Heroes who can't help without making things worse. Combat specialists. This isn't the kind of problem you can punch your way through. "The Villain has a dangerous quirk, though. Shoots thorns like bullets out of his neck. Even if we got somebody up there, they'd get hurt."

"If nobody goes up there, there's only one way this ends. Aren't there any negotiators? Anyone to talk him down?"

"Lady, if you've got a better idea than holding our ground and keeping people back, you're welcome to suggest it. We don't have any good options here."

Not only do you have a better suggestion, you've decided to go through with it even if you don't get approval from whatever fuckstick is running this operation. You strip off your purse and coat, hand both of them to Midoriya and say, "I'm going up there."

"What?! Nurse L/N, that's a terrible idea! What if you get hurt?!"

Death Arms raises an arm to hold you away from the building. "Listen to the kid. You're a Medical Hero, so you getting hurt up there would lead to more problems, not less. You aren't expendable."

"Nobody is expendable," you say. And you mess Izuku's hair to reassure him. You know what you're doing and you aren't afraid of the possible consequences, however painful. "There's a person up there who is distressed and running out of time to make the right choice. The longer we apply pressure, the longer he's going to consider jumping. We need somebody to bring him down safely. That's me."

"This is a Villain we're talking about, not some ordinary civilian."

"Are there prior charges on his record?"

"… No."

"So this is the first time he's ever used his quirk inappropriately? Over an argument we don't have details on? Even if this does end up being a dangerous person who needs to be set away from the bulk of society, I'm not about to abandon him. Even Villains are people."

"Let somebody else do this."

You would, but nobody else is doing this. "Do we have a name for this man?"

"Lady, I'm telling you! I'm not letting you go up there!" Death Arms stands in front of you, ready to block and shove and hold if need be. You know he's trying to do the right thing, and he's concerned for somebody he considers one of his own. But he's an obstacle to you right now, not an asset.

"Give me the name."

"Stand down and wait with the ambulance where you'll be useful."

"It's Choze Narami," says Izuku. You're surprised, and so is Death Arms. "I heard the officers talking about it." He meets your eyes, determined. "I'm certain."

That's a good kid, getting into good trouble. You're going to eat any consequences the authorities try to saddle him with. "Ok. Mister Narami and I will have a talk, and I'll be right back."

Before the big Hero can again forbid you, before he can call in his backup, you blow a massive, pink smokescreen over the entire street. Alarms go off, there's confusion. But you escape his grasp, no problem, and achieve an advanced liftoff. With effort, you float closer to the building.

This is very high. You try not to look down or think about it. You try not to think about what would happen if you lose control of your breathing and stay too light, overshoot. This is no time to need a rescue. You gain altitude by expelling heavier fog, your body retaining the lighter chemicals and gases. Higher. Higher. Please, not much higher. You drag your fingers against the glass for a sense of balance in this empty space. If the wind picks up, you could be in trouble.

"Don't come any closer!"

There he is. He's close enough to talk to, which is the first step. "Narami? Choze Narami?"

"I told you not to come closer!" In spite of the cry, you hear little anger and no conviction. This man is frightened. To you, he looks like an ordinary office worker. Glasses, humble clothes, an old belt. His shirt and coat are torn open to reveal a mutant quirk, a series of small gun barrels down his center, each one fit to fire nothing larger than a needle. "Everyone needs to get the hell away from me! Tell them to back off!"

You hold your hands up and try, though you know you will fail, to stay at one steady height. "Choze, darling, are you hurt?"

"No! I'm fine!" But he's shaking, he's sweating. "I'm not going to prison for this! I won't do it! I'll jump before I go to a Villain prison, I swear!" His voice cracks. Fat tears roll down his red cheeks.

"Darling, I'm not here to arrest you. I'm a Medical Hero. I don't even have handcuffs, see? I just want to come make sure you are okay, and talk to you."

"You'll turn me over to them."

"Not if I don't have to. Not until you're ready and we can all be reasonable. I promise."

"I don't believe you!" He rocks forward when he yells at you, nearly slipping. He corrects, but you know he's tired. This is too much stress, and he's bound to tumble eventually. "If… If you're really here to help… You can come up, but don't come anywhere near me. You don't come closer than that, got it?!"

To the best of your ability, you meet his terms. They're bad. You can probably work your way closer a little at a time, but if he gets wise or falls too soon, you won't get a single grab. It's better than nothing. It's some faint progress. He's willing to talk, so all is not lost. "Darling, tell me what happened."

His eyes are on the ground. The crowd is a lot bigger than you thought, or else it has amassed in the minutes you wasted arguing. Lights, sirens, bodies, cameras, concrete. 

"Choze," you try again, inching while his focus is split. "Choze, talk to me. What happened? Tell me this is a huge misunderstanding." Tell you anything, just speak, and stay here, and buy time. Time for more Heroes, useful Heroes, to arrive. Time for you to come up with a better angle or plan. "If you cooperate, I can help smooth all of this over. But if you don't tell me what happened, all anybody is ever going to hear is the version of the story the people down there come up with. I want to know the truth, and I bet this isn't your fault." Even if it is, you don't care. If sympathy will win him over, keep him alive, he can have it right now. 

He chokes up. "Listen… Listen, I didn't mean to do it. My boss is a dick, but I didn't mean to…" Choze struggles to breathe evenly. You edge closer, but he snaps up and fires a pin at the ground by your feet. It sticks into the building. If you get hit, it's going to hurt. A lot. "Don't!"

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry. I just worry. I know what it's like to have terrible bosses. What did he do, darling?"

"It's not… It's not one thing. It's everything! I work all these long hours, I try so hard, and nothing is ever good enough for him! I passed up on every vacation chance I had this year because he swore he needed my help and it was important! I lost my girlfriend because of him! I sabotaged my whole…" He wails, rage and grief pouring from his eyes and nose. "And then he didn't even use anything I contributed! He called me stupid in front of everyone, like I… Like I…"

"That was horrible of him. You're too good to work for such a miserable person, Choze."

He wipes his eyes. "I just meant to shove him, and I shouldn't have done it, I know I shouldn't have done that. I was just so angry. But he threw me against the wall, and I panicked. I had to get away or he'd crush me, they'd all hurt me! And now… and now…"

"Choze, listen to me. What happened in there was a mistake, but it's not going to be the end of the world, okay? I know so many amazing lawyers who would be happy to take on your case. Even if you get in trouble, it's not going to be in a Villain prison."

"You can't know that! You can't promise that, I know you can't."

"Darling, do not die without fighting this. If you're labeled a Villain at death, what's going to happen to your loved ones? Do you have family Choze? What about your girlfriend? What is she going to feel if she hears you ended things so painfully?" Come on. Just a little closer. You can make a run for him and drag him back if you can just get a little closer. 

Choze shakes horribly. Again, he looks at the dizzying descent, the promise of a messy demise. "I just want to go home. I just want to go home and never, ever come back here. I want all of this to go away and be over."

"Do you have any pets, Choze?"

"A… a cat…"

"Who will feed the cat if you jump?"

"… Fuck." He sobs. His shoes slide, but he's pivoting to get off the edge and stand on the rooftop instead. It will be so much easier if he does. You can just walk down. Everything can de-escalate. "Okay, I--"

He falls. 

He falls backward, an accident, bad traction on his shoes.

You dive for him.

It's a flurry of fabric in your arms, you darting to find something solid, find his body. You can't save him if you only have his jacket, dammit!

Choze grips you for dear life, both arms snapped around, fingers digging into your left shoulder. With every ounce of strength you have, you take in air. All of it. Past your lungs, to those other organs, all of it. You need to be light. You need to float for two. No more heavy. Heavy must go!

Your fall speed is reduced drastically. Choze screams and cries, his feet dangling over nothing, and you hold him back as hard as you can without sacrificing your quirk's range. It hurts. It feels like your lungs will explode. But you can do this. You can break this fall. It's going to hurt both of you, but it won't smash you into pulp.

You forget to calculate for that damn ankle.

When you come to, Choze is laying on top of you, still trembling, still gripping. But there's ground under you. The police, the Heroes, you see them starting to rush in. Nobody is faster than the EMTs, though. Good. Behind them, a swollen crowd screams and cheers. Have they been this loud the whole time? A minute ago, all you could hear was the rush of blood behind your ears. "I'm so sorry," Choze whines.

"Sorry?" you wheeze. "Darling, I'm just glad you're alive."

You are more than a little relieved to find Terex among the gathered Heroes, as well as Relay. The tall woman uses her prodigious height to muscle her way past Death Arms, kicking him aside with the regard a child shows a cheap, unwanted toy. It is Relay who reaches you first, however. He's checking vitals for two, all while explaining, "Every once in a while, I do love being able to hear the scanners. You okay, boss?"

Choze continues to cling to you, and you hug him while patting his hair. Once you're sitting, though, the dull ache rises into a piercing agony. You grit your teeth and force yourself not to acknowledge your ankle. And your back. You are too damn old for this. "I've been better, but I've also been much worse. All the same, I don't think I'm in the right condition to accompany this young man to the police station. Would one of you?"

"I have this," Terex assures. "We'll follow through for you." You would be grateful, but you know she's hungry for ranking, and the credit goes to whoever files their paperwork. 

Honestly, you'd rather be free of the limelight. She can have the commission. All of it.

"I'm going to check in on you later," you murmur to Choze as he starts to find the will to let go of you. "You're not going to get lost in the system, I promise I won't allow that. It's going to be okay. Not right away, but it's going to be okay."

"Thank you," he weeps.

You are forced to go to the ambulance, which is a wise call, while Choze is diagnosed as injury-free and hurried through the legal process. Most of the police are busy dispersing the public, getting them to move on from what must have been quite a thrilling scene. It will take a while, and you're out of sight in the meantime. 

Midoriya catches up with you. You smile and gesture for him to come in closer, shocked to see him pale and wavering. The boy stumbles into your arms. "You did it." He stains your bruised shoulder with tears. "I thought he was turning around. When I saw you jump, I…"

"Shh…" You pat his back. The paramedics are kind enough to give you space for this conversation, probably relieved this has turned out to be relatively easy work for them. Apart from giving you something for the ankle, and checking all of your vitals, they're free to gawk at some of the local Heroes. "I'm sorry, darling. I didn't mean to scare you."

A few minutes pass, but he doesn't really calm down. It's bothering him immensely. You try to puzzle through why that might be. Is it because you got hurt when All Might assigned him to protect you? He helped you, though. He helped you get that man's name so you could do this. Maybe, you consider, it's something a little worse. Maybe it's something gnawing and personal. "You want to know how I knew what to say? To make him change his mind?"

Midoriya squeezes you tighter.

"Because I've had scary days before. And I remember all the reasons I decided not to go through with it at the time." You smooth his hair down, but it fluffs again, forever unruly. He tries to smother his own weeping, but you wipe his eyes and hold his cheeks. "Have you ever had scary days, darling?"

He swallows hard without answering. "It's not going to happen anymore. Because now… I like things about myself now, so…"

Damn, but being young is rough. Being alive can be rough. You dry more of his tears on your sleeve. "Sometimes, it seems like there's never going to be another joy worth living for. But when you push through, when you keep going, you're eventually going to reach a moment that you're happy you were around for. Just like this one. I'm happy I'm alive, because I helped somebody and because I'm spending time with a young man I have a great deal of respect for."

He collapses back into your arms, crying harder than ever, and you let him. He's a good kid. He reminds you of Toshi when he was naive and young. He reminds you how the hopeless idealism of a schoolboy can reach the moon. "If you never learn another lesson from me, darling, learn this one. Sometimes, the most powerful move in a Hero's arsenal is a hug."

Chapter Text

1.

Your phone buzzes against your side. You grapple for it, your hand sliding to some wrong blanket layer. The ringtone is louder when you undo yourself from the knot of blankets, and it’s a professional chime instead of a song or sound byte. Work related, so you fumble around and struggle to answer before your voicemail kicks in.

Midnight is calling you. On a Sunday morning.

How bizarre.

“Hello?” you grog into the receiver.

“I need to see you right now. It’s an emergency.” Her tone drips with dread. 

With a dire twist in your gut, you summon a pleasant speaking voice. “ Bedside manner ” is an essential skill, even over the phone. “Can you tell me what’s wrong?”

“Not right now, I’m in public! Can you meet me at the school? In twenty minutes? I’m in a hurry, L/N, this is no laughing matter.”

“I can be there,” you assure.

“Good!” Midnight hangs up on you.

Getting to the school is no issue because you are already there. You have, once again, slept in your office like a vagrant coward instead of going home. Heaven knows last night was your best opportunity to get safety into your apartment. Midoriya offered to walk you home and everything, but you made up an excuse about paperwork and wound up here instead. Shameful, but at least this is going to be convenient.

You don’t know what kind of emergency to expect from Midnight, but you worry. You worry very deeply about the sort of trouble an “R-Rated Hero” might get into. Fearing the worst, you hastily put yourself together and set out fresh medical instruments. If you’re going to have to do something unspeakable, you might as well do it as sterile as possible.

To be safe, you pull down a box of the extra-long gloves.

The door whips open, rebounds off the wall. A woman heaped in layer upon layer of bougie clothing shuffles in, then leans against your door to slam it behind her. Behind the wide-brim hat, two scarves, a fur coat, and the biggest pair of rhinestone sunglasses you’ve ever seen is Nemuri Kayama. She quakes, then slides down to the floor in a manner so burlesque, you are certain she practiced it before she arrived. “It’s terrible. This is the worst thing that could have happened to me, L/N!”

You don’t consider yourself a devout person, but you silently, fervently pray you won’t need to send her to the emergency room. “What’s wrong, Kayama?”

“ This! ” She throws aside the big sleeve over her left arm and shows you her hand.

It’s orange.

She flings off the coat, the glasses, the hat, and drops them in a heap. From head to toe, every inch of her skin is orange. You seal your hand over your mouth in horror as she tries to scrub and nothing comes off. “It’s horrible .”

“It… It might not be as bad as it seems. How did this happen? Did you get hit with some kind of quirk?”

“I don’t know! I have no idea! I woke up this morning and… and…” Nemuri sobs into her hands. “This can’t be happening. Of all the people in the world, of all the days in time, this had to happen to me today?”

You offer her a box of tissues and have her sit in your chair. You take her temperature, her blood pressure, listen to her heart. All normal. If she’s dying, she’s not dying very fast. “This happened this morning?” you say sweetly, helping dry her eyes. “Do you feel weird or unwell in any other way? Does anything hurt?”

She shakes her head. “It’s just… just my skin, I… What if this is permanent?! I can’t get away with a major rebrand at my age! I look like a traffic cone!”

“Noooo, no. It doesn’t look that bad,” you lie. “Besides, we are going to figure this out. Something caused this, we can do something about it. Have you been anywhere unusual lately? Encountered any Villains whose quirks might have done this to you?”

Nemuri swallows hard, thinks for a moment, uses a half-dozen tissues, and then shakes her head. “Nothing,” she sniffs. “Nothing is different. I cut down my Hero hours to get extra sleep. I went to the gym every morning and looked fine until now. I’ve been extra careful to be extra healthy these last few weeks because… because…” Her sobs flow anew, more violent and grief-filled than ever. “And now everything is ruined!”

“Darling, darling, it’s going to be okay. Maybe it’s just not something you’ve thought of, but somebody else might have noticed if you were showing these symptoms sooner. Have you been hanging around with anyone especially lately? Drinking or eating at the same place?”

“I think so. Yes. Yes, Hizashi and I went to some underground restaurant after his radio set ended on Friday night. Maybe… Maybe he would know?! Could this be from bad sushi?! I didn’t even eat any of the fish there!”

“It would be the first I’ve ever heard of this kind of side-effect, but, with a quirk like yours where so many chemicals have to exit via the skin? I suppose it’s possible. Can you call him and pick his brain while I try to think about this?” You start pulling down medical textbooks from the top shelf, over the jumbled computer mess. Recovery Girl can’t reach any of these, so you have no idea why they’re here.

Nemuri frantically thumbs through her phone, then holds it out on speaker. It rings a few times, before an abrupt click and a loud, “ Yooooo! ” splits the atmosphere. “You got Present Mic, out here chilling on patrol and surfing the airwaves. What’s good?”

“Please tell me you’re, like, banana-yellow or something. Please, please, please.”

“Uh… I am banana yellow or something . Aha. What’s up, Kayama? You sound kind of stressed out.”

“ Do I?! ”

You clear your throat and speak into the phone. “Good morning, Mister Yamada. This is F/N L/N. I’m here with Miss Kayama, who isn’t quite herself today, and we were—”

“Oh shiz! Nemuri’s sick?!”

“ What’s going on ?” says another voice in the background.

Midnight groans. “Why are you with Eraserhead right now? You’re supposed to be patrolling!”

“He was bringing me lunch,” Present Mic insists. “Don’t worry about that! Kayama, what’s wrong?! Are you okay?”

“No, I’m not okay! Do you think I would be calling you if I was okay ?! I would text you, Hizashi; I’m an adult!”

“What kind of sick?” asks Aizawa, muscling into the call. No matter how close he gets to the phone, Hizashi always sounds closer and louder. “The flu?”

“No, she’s not experiencing anything like that. There’s some sort of pigmentation issue, however.”

“Pigmentation? You mean like coloration, right?”

“Not, like, some kind of skin rash?” huffs Aizawa. “No offense, Kayama, but you aren’t always careful who you get involved—”

“It’s not there!” she screeches. “I… I mean it is there but it’s not about that! Ugh. This isn’t a sex thing. Yamada, please, have you felt weird since eating at that place on Friday? It’s the only thing I can think of that might have done this to me.”

“Done what to you? I still don’t understand.”

“I… My skin turned a weird color.”

After a chaotic, indiscernible conversation on the other end, Hizashi asks, “Can I video call you? So I know what you’re talking about?”

“ Hell no .”

“Darling, I hate to push you into agreeing to this, but we need all the information we can get, as fast as we can get it. If this is some kind of liver problem, we have to figure it out fast or you might suffer serious consequences. I’m already thinking about having you rushed to a hospital. The video chat is a good idea.”

She grits her teeth and closes her eyes. “... I’m going to hang up and call you back over the app,” she rasps. She silences Hizashi in the middle of a corny outro, and with a trembling hand, dials him with different settings. 

“ Yooooo! This is Present… Mic…?”

A profound silence settles across the digital array.

Kayama’s bottom lip quivers and her chin wrinkles. “Don’t laugh. Don’t you dare laugh about this.”

“No! I wasn’t going to, I… I was only going to say that you look like… You’re almost the same color as…” Aizawa attempts to hold the conversation and the phone on his own while Hizashi dips out of frame. There is an unmistakable snort, and there can be little doubt Present Mic is on the verge of hysterics. “Could it be… sunburn?”

Hizashi wrestles the phone back and shakes his head, grinning. “Yo, Nemuri! You’re like the same color as that nasty carrot-juice cocktail you ordered at the bar!”

She stiffens. Kayama thinks about it, glancing up at you. “You don’t think it was poisoned or something, do you? I ordered that damn thing because I’ve been on a health kick.”

You get the feeling this is the best lead to chase, but it’s not poison you suspect. An allergic reaction to an ingredient, maybe. “You mentioned before that you’ve been on some new health plan or diet. How long has that been going on?”

“I’ve been working on it for a little under a month. It’s because of this… this photoshoot. A girl has to look her best.”

“Right now, a girl looks like candy corn.”

“Hizashi, knock it off,” warns Aizawa.

“You’ve been dieting for a photoshoot, but you still went out to drink with Yamada?”

“I… The photoshoot is supposed to be today! I figured I already looked my best, so... I came to you for help with this turning orange problem, not so you can judge my moral failings, you know?!”

“Sorry, sorry. It’s just, sometimes a change in diet can have strong effects that don’t show up right away. What have you been eating lately?”

“Let me think. Lots of greens. Lettuce, celery. Especially carrots- Don’t roll your eyes, Yamada! You’ve done weirder diets, and don’t make me pull out the receipts to prove it.”

“When she says carrots, she isn’t kidding. You’ve been having carrot juice, carrots as snacks, carrot cake.”

“Come to think of it,” Eraserhead mumbles. “Didn’t I see you mix carrot-flavoring into your water bottle?”

“Wait. How many carrots have you been eating, and for how long?” you ask.

“I don’t know, just a few. They’re being dramatic. I probably have like… ten, fifteen a day? For the past couple weeks?”

“Why would you do that?!”

“Because you said to stay young, you ate a lot of carrots! So I just figured--!” Kayama flusters, scowling into her phone’s front camera lens. “What is so funny? Why are you giving me that look?”

“Nemuri, eating too many carrots turned you orange.”

“What?! How?! Since when is that a thing?!” 

By now, Aizawa is left holding the phone and his image is shaking badly. “Ok. Well. Since that’s figured out.” He clears his throat. “I’ll let you go so you can, um… Good luck.” In the split second between him announcing his farewell and actually getting the call to end, there is a demonic squeal of Present Mic laughter that nearly pops the phone’s tiny speaker.

Midnight sets her phone aside. Her hands are still trembling, and she reaches for more tissues. “How long?” she sobs. “How long am I going to be hideous?”

“You’re only orange,” you assure her. “And it should clear up in a few days, maybe a week, with a normal diet and fluids. I, uh…” You can’t help feeling a bit guilty. You lied about eating carrots on a whim to duck out of having your age pried into. You didn’t think it would end up getting her so scared. “Darling, it’s going to be fine. There’s no major adverse health effects with carotenemia.”

“It’s not that,” she sniffles. “It’s the photoshoot. I can’t possibly show up like this. It would be humiliating.”

“It’s not something that can get rescheduled?”

“It’s a fashion promo with Best Jeanist and it's today. There’s no chance in hell our schedules will line up again. It was pulling teeth just to make this happen.” Nemuri pulls her knees up and rests her forehead against them. She looks, and you do try not to laugh, like a pumpkin squash in a wig and bondage gear. “Is this seriously common knowledge? Am I the only one who didn’t know it was risky to eat carrots?”

“Well, people don’t normally eat that many at a time. I wouldn’t say it’s common knowledge, but it’s knowledge. I’ve heard tomatoes are another one to be careful of.”

“I feel so stupid.” Her eyes and nose run, tissues barely able to mop up the ugly mess. “And I look even dumber than I feel.”

“It’s not that bad.”

“I look like a cheeto with tits!”

You cough to subdue a laugh. For a while, you just sit with her and let her have a cry. She needs it. She goes through almost a whole box of wipes before finally tiring out, leaning back, and sighing. “I suppose I should call and cancel. I’m not going to go back to normal in the next two hours.”

No, she isn’t.

On the other hand, she might not need to.

“For photoshoots like this, are you allowed to bring in your own hair and makeup team?”

“Well, you can but it would look a little snobbish. Especially since this is Best Jeanist we’re talking about. Why?” She gasps and shakes her head at you, as if to shame a naughty pet. “You can’t possibly be thinking of trying to disguise yourself to take my place. Nobody would fall for it, even if you do have the body of a twenty-seven-year-old.”

“I do not,” you say, uncomfortable to the core. “And that wasn’t at all what I was thinking. I have a friend who works in high-end cosmetology. He uses his quirk to do color correction on scars for people all the time. I was thinking I could give him a call, see if he’ll meet us there, and give you an emergency make-over.”

“You…” She peers up at you, her eyes red and puffy. Her face is almost radish colored when she blushes. “Do you think he would? Would you really do that for me?”

“I can’t exactly make promises,” you say, already searching through your phone. So many contacts, so much clutter. Aha. 

It rings for a long time, almost long enough to go to voicemail, and then picks up. The line is jumbled with background noise. Fleece shouts at you to hear himself over whatever disaster zone he’s found his way into. “F/N! What’s up?! Are you out here somewhere?! Are you, like, looking at me or something?!”

“What? No. Fleece, are you available for an urgent beauty session?”

“Oh my god, honey, what happened? Did you try bangs?! Tell me you didn’t try bangs!”

“No, this isn’t for me, thankfully, and hair isn’t the issue. I have a Pro Hero who was, um… An unfortunate Villain’s quirk dyed her skin just two hours before a Best Jeanist photoshoot, and—”

His gasp sends static waves of hissing through the phone.

“And I was hoping you could meet us at the shoot to help Midnight out before this becomes some kind of scandal?”

“Tell her I’m there. I’m fucking there, I’ll meet both of you, I’ll be there in fifteen minutes. Scratch that! I gotta make the most of this. Twenty minutes! I can’t leave this Pride event without getting a single phone number, and I’m gonna need one hot second to operate.”

“You’re at Pride?” Ah, that’s right. You remember Drunktank mentioning the Hero Commission pushing recognition of LGBTQA+ Heroes aside, and that the Forbidden Colors had an event set up for the day after. “You really don’t mind leaving for this?”

“I’m leaving a gay event to go to a photoshoot starring a male supermodel and a woman who regularly poses with strap-ons. If that isn’t serving the homosexual agenda, I don’t know what is.”

2.

Getting across town in Midnight’s rental car is less of a challenge because of the rush, and more because she’s in too many layers to properly see or be seen around. It looks like a snowman is in the front seat, whipping around, losing and reattaching clothing as she speeds to the Jeanist agency. You hold on for dear life, wishing you had ten more seatbelts, praying that the airbag is good. Other drivers veer aside to avoid the vehicle with Hero lights flashing, being piloted by a madwoman.

“Why did I have to come?!” you scream over the roar of her engine and frantic rock music. 

“Because you’re the one who knows what this beauty guru looks like. And because I need a hair and makeup team . One person does not make a team, L/N.”

“But I don’t know how to do anything helpful! I can barely put on my own face!”

“Just be my entourage and stop resisting! I promise I’ll repay you for this later.”

Whatever she has in mind to thank you with, you are almost certainly better off refusing.

Her car swerves and drifts into a streetside parking spot. Midnight grabs you and pulls you in close. “Is any skin showing?! Tell me you can’t see any skin!”

You chuckle. “You look covered to me. And just the other week, weren’t you griping that we should make clothes illegal?”

“Mock me later,” she warns. “When I have my whips and paddles.” Midnight shuffles out of her car, gesturing for you to follow, and the two of you race to the back entrance of the agency hoping to be unseen. Really, this suspicious behavior seems more likely to get you caught. She looks around the various lots. “Do you see his car?”

“Oh, I can never spot any of his vehicles. He has them re-colored all the time. I gave up on trying to track him that way years ago.” You peek through the entrance and see one of Best Jeanist’s sidekicks is approaching to check on your arrival. Once Midnight sees, she starts to freak out, grabbing the brim of her hat and pulling it down to disguise herself. It can’t possibly work.

“Hello?” a confused and well-dressed young man folds his hands behind his back, subtly blocking the inner hallway. “Do you have some kind of appointment or…?”

“Hi, this is part of Midnight’s personal cosmetology team. I assume you have a dressing room ready?”

He blinks. “Oh, um… Yes, right this way. Is Midnight going to be here soon?” he asks. “Not that we aren’t the very picture of patience, but these lights are hot and there are about a million other things we need to see to today.”

“I’m sure she and the rest of the team will be along shortly. Stuck behind Pride Parade traffic, I think,” you excuse, pushing Midnight past him as fast as you can and stuffing yourselves into the room he indicates. 

“Ah,” says the Sidekick, a bit more warmly. “That would make sense, come to think of it. We have most of our monitors tuned in to watch the live feed of it, and it does seem to be getting pleasantly crowded.”

“Uhuh, uhuh,” you agree numbly, only able to really pay attention to Midnight, who is trying to hide in the background.

“Once she’s here, head up to the second floor. Follow the yellow arrows, and please refrain from exploring. We have a lot of modeling to get done, and only today to finish this up.” He fluffs his hair distractedly as he leaves. 

You close the door and check on Midnight. She’s frantically trying to make her hair presentable, all while disgusted with her appearance in the illuminated, vanity mirror. The R-Rated Pro, who prides herself so much on her beauty, must be having an exhausting day. And it isn’t even noon yet. “Fleece should be here any minute.”

“Do you really think he’ll be able to help? This is just… so much.”

Fleece, sometimes going by the moniker Golden Fleece, is an artist, art dealer, cosmetologist, and master of forgery. His Villain life is fairly mundane compared to the world of blood and gore just outside his studio walls, and he’s always been wise enough to keep the law disinterested in his work. He makes friends in high and low places, maintains a stellar reputation on both faces, and knows when to keep his head low.

You’ve seen this man create a dizzying labyrinth out of a mapped parking garage, all by skewing perspective. You’ve seen him change his entire wardrobe, underwear included, from sable-black to pearl-white in under five minutes. He made a perfect copy of the Mona Lisa on a woman’s left butt cheek just because she argued with him about whether or not Da Vinci intended to give her eyebrows. 

“If anybody can fix this, it’s him.”

A series of coded knocks on the door announce his arrival. You peek to be sure, and Fleece throws himself through the entrance. His miraculous hands swirl in the air, fingers loosening up for what he immediately pegs as a big job. “Oh honey, what did those bastards do to you? You look like the mascot of the Philadelphia Flyers.”

“... The…? What?”

“The Flyers? Hockey?” He sighs. “Girl, you look like their big, furry, orange mascot: Gritty.”

“Midnight, this is Fleece.” Anybody might have pegged him for a beauty guru, though. He always dresses as loud as he can. Today, his theme is royal purple and gold in a style you might describe as 'overlord of an office in gay Hell'. “What do you think? Is there a chance you can get her looking her best before Best Jeanist finds out and calls the shoot off?”

“Her best? Pah. I’ll have her looking my best, and I can get it done in a flash. All I need is to set up my reference image.” He pops open his inner coat pocket and unravels a poster. “Luckily, I found one of these being sold at a booth for Pride. Lovely lesbian couple gave me a discount because I explained I was in a hurry, and because I bought some handcuffs.”

“What is it?”

“This is a collector’s edition Midnight Debut poster. And ma’am,” says Fleece in a warning tone as he plasters it to the wall nearest Kayama.You glance at it, but then avert your eyes. That is entirely more naked than you’ve ever wanted to see your coworker.  “I am going to want this signed.” To make a point of his quirk’s ability, he eyeballs the skin tone of the young, poster girl Midnight, then rests his hand across the real Kayama. Her skin stains its original hue everywhere he touches, creeping just beyond the span of his fingertips. 

Midnight squawks, joyful and relieved. “I’ll sign anything you want.”

“That’s what I like to hear. Now strip.”

“Huh?” You back into a corner. “Is that necessary? With me here?”

“Don’t be a prude,” Kayama scolds. “I have to model a few swimsuits, so I can’t exactly afford to be shy right now. Besides, you’re bound to see every inch of me eventually, F/N.” She winks. Her confidence is returning with the promise of her beauty being restored, but it still looks a little like you’re being flirted with by a muppet.

“I think I’ll stand over here, and watch the television, and not turn around for a while,” you say. The remote is attached to the wall, likely to prevent loss and theft. You use it to tune into the live feed of Pride, all while trying to ignore the scene unfolding behind you.

“You women and all your weird, squishy parts. Yuck. But since I’m down here, do you want me to bleach—”

You turn the volume up.

The scene is vibrant. Balloons and streamers cascade through the wind. Drums and cymbals crash, their rhythm echoing with the jumping, buzzing crowd. They look like confetti poured on a blaring subwoofer. So much color. So much diversity. But all people. All dancing and celebrating, and making the day theirs to live free and proud. There are no shortage of masks and disguises throughout the parade and its onlookers. No shortage of cooky, eye-catching weirdos. But that’s part of the fun. And heaven knows, the world needs more innocent fun.

Several very impressive floats have come from agencies around Japan. The Wild Wild Pussycats have shown up in a big, coordinated, cat-themed apparatus. The fake cats along the side are adorable, and probably far larger than television makes them appear. 

“I’m pretty sure I look even younger than I did before! My skin hasn’t been radiant like this in years!”

“Once we finish this part, I’m going to give your hair a once-over. We’re getting rid of every gray hair, permanently.”

“Oh my god. I love you. Can I keep you? I’m keeping you.”

At the head of the parade is the Forbidden Colors, in a fairly plain but respectable, regal, float. All of the gender and sexuality flags are flown together across the back. All four key members of the agency are onboard. You strain your eyes to find Drunktank Pink, standing at one side, waving demurely. He doesn’t look especially thrilled to be there. But, you suppose it’s been a while since you’ve seen him very happy for anything. At the helm is Stygian Blue in a deep, navy dress. She wears a stern, serious expression. Luminous Red is opposite Drunktank, a little more enthusiastic, but not partying with the public. Of all of them, Hyperbolic Orange is the only one who seems thrilled to be at the party. They bounce around from side to side, waving with both hands, occasionally snapping up in a bolt of charged light to grab trinkets thrown at their float.

The feed of the Parade takes a sudden turn.

Everyone looks up, having heard something your tiny television’s volume isn’t high or rich enough to produce. You try to turn it up and figure out why everybody is staring, only for the entirety of downtown Musutafu’s wild, celebratory joy to blast through the speakers.

“It’s All Might!”

“All Might is here!”

Sure enough, like lightning from the sky, he’s landed to stand on the Forbidden Colors’ float. Based on their expressions and battle stances, it’s safe to say they weren’t expecting him. He’s grinning, and not just in a brand-loyalty way. You know the way his eyes wrinkle at the corner and his chin gets that tiny dimple. You know it means he’s honestly excited about something. 

Stygian Blue says something to him, but absolutely nobody can tell what. The crowd is still losing their minds. After a few seconds of bewildered exchange, the float speakers squeal to life and All Might is holding a microphone.

“HAPPY PRIDE, EVERYONE!”

His booming voice, his passion, it sets the world on fire. Screaming. Crying. The camera crew for this livestream struggle to keep everything in view, split between watching the Symbol of Peace make an appearance at their event, and being swept away in the collective revelry.

“I know it’s belated, but I wanted to come here today to extend my gratitude and well-wishes to some colleagues of mine. I don’t know a lot of Heroes here personally, but I do know they all work just as hard as the rest of us to keep the world turning. In spite of that, they don’t always get the kind of thanks they deserve. I just want to say, to all the Heroes here and watching this today, that I appreciate everything you do, every day. It’s an honor to live and work alongside some of Japan’s finest and bravest.”

A chant breaks out among the onlookers. The parade, floats and all, stall to a halt. “ Thank you, Heroes! ” You don’t know for sure, but you think Drunktank might be crying behind the arm he’s using to shield his face. Luminous holds him near, beaming, staring at All Might in the purest disbelief. “ Thank you, Heroes, ” the people say again and again. “ Thank you, Heroes !”

“And to everyone else here! I’m here to thank you, too! Thank you for being yourself.” All Might clears his throat, but it’s not far enough from the mic to go unheard. You hope he’s feeling okay. “It’s moments like this, when I get to see so many of you becoming yourselves, living happily, and loving to exist as you are… It’s moments like this that remind me how honored I am to be a Hero.”

His sentiment finished, he hands the microphone back to Stygian Blue, who he pats on the shoulder. Hyperbolic Orange, crying openly, tugs on his costume at the knee. Laughter. That classic, All Might laughter. And then he hugs Orange. He hugs Blue. And Pink and Red. A whole dogpile of emotions, blocking the street, almost obscured by the amount of confetti being launched into the air.

“Wow.” You turn and find Fleece has finished his work and is taking in the most recent minutes of the broadcast while Midnight flaunts in front of every reflective surface she can find. “All Might the ally,” breathes Fleece. “I never thought I’d see the day.”

You chuckle. “Did you assume he was some kind of homophobe?”

“For my own safety, I assume everyone I don’t know personally is a homophobe.”

After a series of impatient knocks on the door, Best Jeanist comes in. You tense and stay as far away from the high ranking Pro as you can manage, wary of the way he sighs. “So you are here,” he says to Midnight. “And here I’d been told it was just your makeup team.”

Kayama grins. It’s a dangerous expression, ripe with the delight of Narcissus. “You can’t expect a girl to look her best without showing up fashionably late. Bam! Bam!” She shakes her hips into sultry poses. She fluffs her hair like a music video backup dancer. She slaps her own ass.

“Are you glowing?” asks Best Jeanist. He seems genuinely impressed, and gives Midnight a long appraisal before being startled by Fleece’s repeated throat clearing noises. “Oh, forgive me. And you would be her beauty specialist?”

“I would be a lot of things,” purrs Fleece. He smirks and reaches out to touch Best Jeanist’s chest with the tip of his index finger. “Oh dear. It looks like you have a mis-dyed thread.” Fleece drags his forefinger down the Fiber Hero’s torso, ending a millimeter shy of his belt loop. “You’re welcome.”

The temperature in this room is rising, and you need to find an excuse to get out before you cook to death.

3.

Intercon is taking place at a truly massive domed stadium. F/N sticks close to Toshinori, going so far as to hold his sleeve while he surrenders their tickets to be scanned. He adores it, but he doesn’t understand the behavior. F/N is never this clingy at school or when they’re alone together. If there’s a secret formula for getting her to hold his hand every moment of the day, he has to know it. 

“Are you hungry?” He points to the array of vendors. “There’s all kinds of food here. Tons of American stuff. What’s a tor-till-a?”

“That’s tortilla . And no, I’m not hungry.”

Weird. F/N is always willing to eat. “I’m hungry,” he insists. “I think I want to try… everything.”

“I think you would die, very painfully, if you tried to eat even a tenth of the things here.”

“I think I’m going to start with a deep-fried Oreo.”

“Prepare for blocked arteries in three… two… one…” 

Toshinori chuckles and opens up his wallet. He’s been saving ever since F/N got the tickets so she wouldn’t have to worry about buying anything else. He plans to get her something, even if she doesn’t ask. “Do you want something to drink?”

F/N doesn’t answer. He looks down and finds her distracted but glancing back at him. “Huh?”

“Thirsty?”

“Oh. No, I’m fine.”

She’s probably put herself on a budget. Toshinori knows how it is. He also knows if he gets too much, she’ll be happy to share. It’s a plan that’s worked at least a dozen times so far without F/N catching on. “I’m going to order. Are you coming?”

“Where are you going? To that place there?” She looks back at whatever it is that’s been grabbing her attention, but Toshinori can’t figure out what she sees. To him, it’s an endless swarm of busy people, shoving their way toward different seating pavilions. Occasionally a Hero will walk past, but he doesn’t see one right now. “I’ll wait here.”

Disappointment creeps up on him. He had been enjoying that bit of hand-holding and coat-clinging. For now, he nods along and goes to get something to eat. All the while, however, he’s glancing back at F/N, and trying to figure out what she’s doing. She doesn’t go anywhere. But she’s staring at something. Somebody?

He turns away for less than a minute to get his order slip, and when he searches for her again, F/N isn’t there.

Her timing on his inbound heart attack was off, but boy, was she right to predict chest pain.

Toshinori jogs to where he left her, looking around frantically. She’s small. She’s so much smaller than the average person here. If somebody grabbed her and shoved her down, he might never see her.

“F/N?!” he shouts.

“Over here!”

He hears her, and she doesn’t sound distressed, but he can’t see her at all. Toshinori spins around twice trying to get a sense of direction. It’s only when she calls out to him again that he notices a little hiding cubby has been created between the wall and one of the stadium’s massive, hinged doors. F/N waves to him from behind it, then disappears from view again.

It’s far too odd to ignore. He hurries over, concerned about why his friend has been acting so strange. “Is everything… okay?”

“I’m sure your mom can’t be too far away,” F/N coaxes. She is kneeling down in front of a young, crying child. The kid sobs and hugs some odd, beloved stuffed animal. Like the child, the doll has three antennas. “This is my friend Toshi. He’s going to be a Hero someday, too. Can you say hello to him?”

“Hell-hell-hello,” the child manages, then sniffs in a big wad of snot.

Thank goodness F/N is safe. Toshinori breathes a sigh of relief. “Hello.”

“Can you tell us what your mom looks like?”

“She’s tall. And pretty. And she has long hair. And she has three ‘tennas, just like me.”

F/N gets the kid to come with her, up into her arms, and all three of them go to the vendor area together. “It’s okay. Toshi will use the power of being extra, amazingly tall to look around while we head for the service counter. He might even see her. And he’s also going to protect us from all the scary bad guys because he’s crazy strong, and all Villains are afraid of his muscles.”

“You promise? He won’t let anybody eat our faces?”

Good lord. “Not a chance,” he vows with a smile. “I am especially good at defeating face-eating Villains. That’s my specialty.”

“It’s true. And you know he encounters a lot of those, since his own face is so delicious. Absolutely scrumptious.”

They come upon the service counter, where there is a woe-begotten, wailing woman sobbing into a poor attendant girl’s scarf. She has long hair and three antennas. What are the chances? Toshinori makes a wider path through the crowd for F/N and the child to squeeze through, his hand on one of her shoulders so he can’t lose track of her again. “Excuse me, ma’am? Are you missing a—?”

“Kimiko!”

“Mommy!” The kid launches out of F/N’s arms and toward the relieved, still-sobbing mother. Everyone at the service counter breathes a sigh of relief, and several come to extend their honest gratitude.

But they can’t stick around long.

“My order!” Toshinori remembers. “We have to go pick up my food and get to our seats before the opening event!”

“Let’s go,” says F/N, who lets the kid have a final goodbye hug before she’s back to latching to Toshinori’s hand and squeezing as close to him as possible in the crowds. They scurry from place to place, Toshi struggling to balance everything, F/N doing what she can by holding his drink. They manage to tumble into their very nice, very expensive, front-row booth a few minutes before the ceremony is scheduled to begin.

“Oh my god,” she says. “How much food did you order? You can’t possibly plan to eat all of this! Are you a bottomless pit?”

“Of course not. I have you to help me.”

“Seriously? How do you think I’m going to make a dent in this? My stomach is only about this big, Toshi, and it’s already full.”

“Full? I haven’t seen you eat or drink anything all day.”

“I haven’t. I can’t. It’s full of, like, butterflies and moths.” She takes a deep breath, smooshing herself into the booth seating and his side, in spite of how much room she has to spread out. “This place is huge, and there are people everywhere, and it’s confusing, and loud. All I can think about is my mom saying, ‘keep your head on a swivel’ and telling me about everyone who's ever tried to mug or kidnap her.”

“That’s… That’s rough.” He isn’t entirely sure what to say. He assumed she was having a good time. He’s been having a good time, just because she’s with him, and this is such a cool place to be. But now that he’s really taking stock of things, F/N seems pale, and shaky, and tired. He takes his arm out of his jacket sleeve on the side she’s leaning against, and folds her into his coat. She tenses for a second, then snuggles into his side and winds her arm through his too-long sleeve. He uses his free hand to keep her close. “Feel safer?”

“I do,” she admits, but without looking him in the eye.

Toshi sips his drink. The stadium is filling, but their little alcove is first-class. There shouldn’t be too many people coming by to bother them. “You’re on high alert, huh? I guess that’s why you managed to notice that kid.” He smiles at her. “It was adorable. I admire the way you can talk to children.”

“There’s nothing there to be reverent of. More than anything, I was the one feeling scared in that room. I only spotted the hiding spot behind that door because I was thinking about using it myself. But then I thought, no, I’m fine. Because I’m with you.”

He tucks her closer, his fingers curled around her shoulder. Perhaps he squeezes too tight, because she puffs out a fine, pink cloud. “I’m still glad we managed to help. And I’m still impressed with you. I couldn’t have done any of that without you.”

“Thanks.”

“Are you hungry yet?”

“Yeah, but not for food,” she laughs. “I’m hungry for your delicious face.”

The stadium lights go black, and then the arena lights flash brilliant white. Music blossoms from every corner, and the audience surges to their seats, knowing it’s all about to begin. Toshinori’s heart is racing. He doesn’t know if it’s because he’s finally at InterCon, an event of legendary size, or because F/N is holding his hand with both of hers.

4.

All Might fans himself to cool down from his mad dash around the city. He didn’t need to go in so flashy, and he could have shortened his appearance. He expects he’ll regret the time he wasted today by tomorrow morning.

But right now?

He’s happy.

Weirdly happy.

There was something special about going to that Pride event. He hasn’t gotten a hug like that, from people so genuinely amazed to see him, since he was a young Pro. He had no idea he was craving the rush. The rush of helping somebody who honestly never thought he could or would come to their aid. The rush of risking controversy, of being overjoyed to confront something social. The rush of… of…

His hands are still shaking. It’s a good tremble. A high. A sliver of that old, golden euphoria he used to live in every day.

Such a simple act. But it’s made so many people so happy. It was worth every second he spent transformed into All Might.

Toshinori takes a seat against the railing on top of an old, unused building. His shoe starts to vibrate. He slips his phone out of the pocket, taking a deep breath, almost certain this is going to be a call regarding his most recent appearance. Storm clouds love a lightning rod.

It’s young Midoriya.

He clears his voice before picking up. “I am here! On the line. What’s up, my boy?”

“I just saw him, All Might. I’m on my way south from Dagoba Beach right now.”

“ Him ?” Toshinori doesn’t like that tone. He doesn’t like the fiery way Midoriya is talking. “Who did you see?”

“I never got a chance to see his face, but I know that leg quirk and I’m certain about this. This is the guy who attacked Nurse L/N last year.”

The strangler.

“Midoriya, you need to call the police and report this.” He doesn’t have the time left in All Might form to respond. It’s all the way across the city, and he’s at least a few minutes past his safety limit.

“I’m not going to let this guy get away again. I’m going to follow him and figure out where he’s going.”

“What?! No, young Midoriya. You need to call and report this! Midoriya?” He hung up. He ignored All Might and hung up. “Shit.”

Chapter Text

1.

Subtly metallic, the feet of this suspicious man go tang, tang against pavement. It’s a faint note, but one that shakes loose a memory. Izuku has been having strangely vivid dreams lately, and in sleep he’s revisited the night many times. Fuzzy details become clearer with review and meditation. He knows what’s going to happen in the dream, since he’s had it before, so he can calm down and think about what he’s actually observing.

He heard this man on the day of the attack. He heard his feet on the bus.

Traffic all around Musutafu is derailed to accommodate yesterday’s Hero Appreciation Day parades, as well as today’s Pride event. The man Izuku has been following adjusts his hoodie, and Midoriya confirms, heart racing, that he has wires in his pocket. The strangler’s heels chime as he rounds a corner.

Izuku creeps out from behind the shade of the shop. He isn’t sure how much further he can follow this man without getting caught. There are fewer and fewer people around, fewer excuses to be going this direction. The environment is a bit hostile, as well. He’s never been in this part of the city before. He’s never seen so many shabby buildings in one place, and all of them in heavy use. Rancid smells rise from the alleys and dumpsters. Sidewalks and roads bear rough gaps. Telephone poles and wires show signs of major infrastructure neglect. 

And on one of those poles, climbing the utility ladder using only his special, chiming feet— is the strangler. Izuku ducks behind a trash mound. Has he been spotted? Did he go to that height for a vantage point because he knows he’s being followed? There’s no way to be certain without paying attention, so Izuku finds the best angle he can to both watch and go (hopefully) unseen.

The wires in the man’s pocket are attached to a hand-computer and a headset. He inserts the wire jack into the pole’s utility box, whistling and typing away on the keypad. Midoriya has never seen anything like this before. He can’t begin to guess what the man is up to.

Ding. Midoriya checks his phone to find another text from All Might, but he can’t spare the time to look at it right now. This strangler is fast. He’s seen it before and he knows he risks losing him if his attention slips for even a moment.

After a while whistling and listening over his headset, the man on the pole chuckles. “Well, well. You were a lot closer than I expected.”

Izuku’s stomach flips. Is this it?

The Villain unplugs and descends, still using only his legs. Are his feet magnetic, perhaps? Or is he just that skilled at this kind of work? Midoriya prepares to run or fight, but he isn’t approached. Rather, the Villain continues down the street and takes a hard left at the next available alley.

Izuku bolts after him. 

He can’t lose track of the bastard now.

He can’t risk somebody like that staying on the streets.

When he turns the corner, the wire Villain is gone. He sees instead, two people. A woman with long, greasy hair, styled to sweep over one eye. She leans against the wall, playing a video on her phone for the other person to see. This one is almost inuman— a swarm of insects concentrated underneath a long coat. They only glance passively at Izuku at first, but when he enters the alley in search of the Villain, both of them stride over and block his way.

“This isn’t a kid-friendly zone,” warns the woman. “If you’re looking for the playground, it’s back the way you came. Get lost.”

“Sorry,” Midoriya stammers, shrinking back from them. “I will in just a minute. I was looking for somebody, though. Did a man come through here just a moment ago? In a navy pullover?" 

The two glance at one another. The trench-coated individual starts moving to the side, not to be friendly, but because they’re trying to surround him. Izuku realizes he’s not going to have anywhere to go if he doesn’t back up now.

“And what if he did?”

“I…” Izuku looks behind him. It’s too late. This is bound to get nasty if he acts up. Maybe he can still slip out of this in one piece, call the police like All Might told him to.

But he’s so close.

Midoriya doesn’t say anything. He balls his fists and maintains the stare-down with this alley-guarding woman. He is going to be a Hero. Heroes don’t cower.

“What a little tough guy,” the swarm buzzes, amused. “What’s wrong? Did Forks steal your arcade credit PIN or something?”

“What if he did?” Midoriya tries. He doesn’t sound half as brave as he hoped he might. “Is that his name? Forks?”

“I’m going to tell you this the nice way just once,” says the woman. She lowers herself to his eye level, teeth bared, one visible eye narrowed upon him. “Go away.”

“Listen to her, kid.”

Instead, Midoriya raises his fists just a tad, swallows, and sets his jaw. “I’m not leaving until I get my answers.”

Behind him, the swarm grows in mass, leaking from their clothes, foregoing any semblance of human form for advantage. Izuku flinches away, toward one wall, expecting this one to be the first to attack. Instead, the voice from the myriad, shimmering, black flies says, “Go easy on him. We don’t want to get caught hurting a kid.”

When he looks back at the other Villain, it is directly into a bright, piercing light. Her other eye, he realizes too late. She has her hair aside to reveal it, and he falls into a Medusa-like paralysis.

With her eye still illuminating Izuku, she says, “Stand on one leg.”

Midriya does. Not because he wants to. His body is not his own to command.

“Start hopping.”

Both Villains giggle as Izuku is forced to obey. His leg muscles hurt from the tension of fear, and carrying out this task against his will worsens the ache.

“Hold your breath.”

Oh no .

He can’t breathe. It stretches on and on, him hopping on one foot, losing oxygen, growing scared, unable to do anything but think about struggling without even one finger following his orders. His vision clouds at the corners. They keep laughing. She keeps blinding him with her vicious, quirk-eye.

His vision is red.

Then black.

Smack .

Izuku draws in a deep, ragged breath, then spits out the liquid he’s just sucked in. His own blood, he realizes when he reaches up to assess pain on the side of his head. The boy coughs, not sure yet if this dizzy, collapsing feeling is from his skull bouncing off the ground, or his tortured lungs.

“Don’t swing out of your league, kid.” The two Villains turn him over with their boots and nudge him toward the street, then go to head to their spots, to resume life before the boy ever bothered them. “Dumb brat.”

Dumb indeed. Izuku struggles to his feet. He wipes his head and checks his hands. Everything is coming back into view, so he figures he isn’t hurt too badly.

These two know something, and he has to get to the bottom of this. This man isn’t some ordinary thief. He’s violent. “I want you to tell me who Forks is,” he demands of them. 

“You should have stayed down.”

2.

They were right.

He should have stayed down. 

Midoriya feels himself bashed against the wall again and again, but at this point, it’s more of a gentle thump. Background noise. It doesn’t hurt much more than some of the things Bakugou put him through.

But Bakugou would always eventually stop.

This time, there’s no end in sight. Nothing he can say or do will satisfy these opponents.

Midoriya snaps back to his mind. His body. The eye Villain can’t go forever without blinking. He manages a flick of his finger. It breaks. The swarm scatters.

A chance.

A chance to run.

His legs fail beneath him. Izuku’s chest hits the pavement, whacking the air from his lungs. He crawls. He wills himself to stand, begs himself.

He gets stepped on. Izuku gasps, a mouthful of street dust on his tongue. He vomits, but it’s barely anything. He doesn’t have anything left to surrender.

“What is up with this child’s freaky fingers? That’s three times. Hurts like a bitch to get hit with that air current.”

“Whatever it is, he’s hurting himself almost as bad as we hurt him. We should end it here, Cypress.”

“Yeah, I guess.” She flips Izuku over onto his back with her boot. “But I bet Forks will wanna know who this brat was. Does he have a wallet on him?”

“Hm… Yeah, here we go. There’s a school I.D. here.”

Midoriya reaches fruitlessly toward his things. They read his name and school aloud to him, then sprinkle everything on his chest and over his broken hand. “Don’t come around here again, Izuku Midoriya. Or else—”

At the far end of the alley, bathed in streetlight and the sunset’s orange glory, stands All Might. Both Villains tense, holding their ground, waiting for their minds to confirm what their eyes have claimed. “Shit,” she murmurs.

“Step away from the boy,” All Might demands. “It will go a long way toward earning you some undue mercy.”

And just like that, there’s hope. “ All Might ,” Izuku wheezes. He trembles with relief and allows himself to put his aching head down for a second. Finally. Just for a second. Finally.

“ Missouri Smash !”

The wind whips above and against him. Midoriya feels himself dragged by All Might’s blow, along with the Villains. But his mentor uses the attack to get nearer as fast as possible, seizing Izuku by the shoulder and supporting the boy against the gale.

Izuku cherishes his first good breath. He coughs. “All Might, be careful of—”

“Hush, kid. I am here, and everything is going to be okay now.”

And Izuku believes that.

Until, like a plague, a swarm of flies descends upon them. Thick and blinding, they zip past and away. Is the Villain escaping? All Might whips his hand to disrupt the flight, cutting the swarm in half.

But in turning aside, lands directly in the other Villain’s gaze.

“All Might…?” Izuku nudges his mentor’s side. The Symbol of Peace is frozen in place.

“Did you…? Did you seriously just capture All Might?!” The swarm laughs, more disbelieving than elated. Midoriya’s blood runs colder and colder. “We need to get out of here, fast.”

“Yeah… right…” Staring down her victim with adamant strain on her face, the Villain manages to grin. “Nice of you to come and get the kid, All Might. Pick him up.”

All Might turns to Izuku, grabs him by the back of the shirt, and hauls him off the ground like a stray kitten. Izuku weighs nothing to this man.

“He won’t be able to chase us if he’s busy trying to rescue the brat.”

“Exactly. All Might, punch this kid into the next city.”

In his Hero’s eyes, Izuku sees nothing. Hollowness. His smile is unwavering and he seems to not see the boy at all. Just looks past him, shrouded in darkness, untouchable. 

“No!” Izuku whimpers. “All Might, please, you have to resist!”

His mentor’s free hand draws back to his side.

“ Detroit …”

3.

Ring. Ring. Ring.

Click . “Hello?”

“F/N! I need you to meet me at U.A. right now!”

“What? Toshi, what’s going on? Are you hurt?”

“Not me. It’s young Midoriya. He’s… Shit, shit, shit!”

“What?! What happened?!”

“There were Villains… I… F/N I fucked this up so bad, I don’t know… Kid, come on! You’re going to be okay. I’m right here. You’re gonna be okay.”

“I’m almost at U.A. now. I can make it there in minutes. What happened to him?”

“He was hurt when I showed up. Two of them had him cornered and he was bloody. F/N… F/N I fucked up so bad.”

“Where are you? You’re with Midoriya? Did you call an ambulance?”

“A Villain took temporary control of me. I… Stay awake, my boy. Help is going to be here any minute, I promise. You need to hang on a while longer. I’m right here.”

“What did you do?!”

“I hit him.”

“You what ?!”

“I didn’t want to! I tried not to! But my whole body, my mind, everything was completely out of my control.”

“How hard?! What did you do?!”

“I punched him in the chest. I thought, for a minute, he was going to be okay. But he’s gasping for air, I can’t keep him conscious, I… I… I’m already here in the office. Isn’t there anything I can do for him right now?! I swear his lips are starting to turn blue, and I don’t know if you’ll make it here in time!”

“Shit… Okay… Okay… Listen to me. In the corner of the room, on the wall next to the coat hangers, do you see a backpack with a pink and white cross?”

“I have it.”

“There’s a tube set up on the left side, and it leads to a transparent mask with elastic straps. Do you see it?”

“Yes, I have it. The… The narrow part is for the nose, right? It goes this side up?”

“I can’t see whatever you’re doing, darling, but that sounds right. Try to get it on him, get as tight of a seal as you can. Tell me as soon as you have that.”

“I think I do.”

“Press the switch on the left strap, next to the pink indicator. There should be a green light, and you’ll see fog moving through the tubes and mask.”

“Okay…”

“... Toshi? Do you have it?”

“It’s working! He’s… I think it’s working. He’s not gasping as hard. It’s okay, kid. I’ve got you. Is that helping?”

“Good… Fuck… I’m going to be there soon, I swear. I’m coming up to the hill right now.”

“Thank you.”

“What about you? Are you injured? Are you in serious condition, too?”

“No, I’m fine.”

“Cherish that feeling. Because when I get up there, I am going to kill you.”

Click .

4.

Lightyears stretch between Toshinori and his own hands. The world orbits beyond him, steady like clockwork. Silence leaves his ears ringing. He stares outward, at nothing, at anything, at the IV in young Izuku’s arm. He is holding the boy’s hand because F/N said that was the most useful thing he could do to help while she does the real work. 

She is a storm. Effortlessly, she fits the boy with needles, all these sensors, monitors, machines, checks her books, administers medicine. All while pumping a heavy, multicolored smog through her medibag and into Izuku’s mask. All without saying a word. It’s so complicated. It’s a beehive of needs assigned to just one person.

He closes his eyes.

He wishes he could be half the Hero F/N is.

He wishes he could be anybody else.

Toshinori has made mistakes before. He typically sends the wrong colored forms to the wrong drop-boxes. He asks his friends to bend the rules for him and gets scolded. He gives advice only to have his insight end up worthless. But this?

Somehow, he will make this up to Izuku. He has to. This is his successor, his responsibility, his failure to address. It won’t be easy. Apologies can’t un-break ribs. The look on Izuku’s face when he picked him up again to get him to the U.A. nursing office was sheer terror. All Might has seen Villains fear him before, and he’s accidentally intimidated the occasional baby. This is something worse.

He didn’t just let Midoriya down. He shattered him.

Somehow, Toshinori will fix this.

But he can’t do that if Midoriya doesn’t survive. “Is he going to be okay?” he asks when F/N is at a standstill, carefully watching data on a monitor he isn’t positioned to see.

She meets his gaze. 

She turns back to her work without answering.

Toshinori squeezes Midoriya’s hand. Perhaps only a reflex, the boy echoes his press. His grip fades again. Midoriya lapses between consciousness and sleep, his eyes never open for more than a few seconds. The old Hero lowers his head against his pupil’s raw knuckles. “He tried to warn me. He tried to warn me to be careful of the Villain and I ignored him.” Not for the first time. Didn’t Izuku also try to clue him into Nomu's ability during the USJ attack? To no avail, since he ended up having to learn from his own mistakes, even after arriving nearly too late. Toshinori swallows. “Kid… I told you to call the police. Why couldn’t you just call the police?”

Midoriya tries to answer. His voice is a ruined croak. He doesn’t manage to make any words, and just the effort sounds agonizing.

F/N puts her hand on Midoriya’s forehead, then pins his bangs out of his face so she can get a look at the wound on his head. It already looks better than when Toshinori found it, but he suspects much of that is due to her having cleaned it. He can’t tell if her quirk has managed to help this injury yet. 

“Izuku, darling, if you can hear me, squeeze All Might’s hand.”

He does. Toshinori nods to her, but she doesn’t look at him. 

F/N slips a larger mask from the medibag, the one she feeds her fog into, and holds it tight to her face. “Perfect. I’m going to have you do that twenty more times for me, and I’ll count backward as you do it. Ready? Twenty… Nineteen… Eighteen…” She flips a switch on the medibag’s inner panels. A wild, orange mist tumbles from her lips and down the tubes, into her patient’s mask and mouth. Izuku’s squeezes keep up until fifteen, then begin to fall out of rhythm. “Ten… Nine… Eight… Seven…”

“He stopped,” Toshinori yelps. “Is that bad?!”

“Six… Five… That’s enough.” F/N changes the medibag settings once more. Her fog’s density decreases within the tubes, and Midoriya’s breathing becomes steady. “He’s asleep. It’s a side-effect of my quirk. I’m surprised he managed to hold on past eleven.”

Toshinori continues to hold the boy’s hand. If there’s the slightest chance he’s still awake and needs support, his mentor will be here. He knows all too well how disorienting and frightening it can be to be stuck half-conscious in a hospital bed. “Is he going to be okay?”

“I don’t know. And I don’t know when I will know. I’ll be spending the night using my quirk on him. Sometimes patients respond very well to constant breath treatment.”

“And when they don’t respond well to it?”

She shakes her head. “Recovery Girl will be here in the morning. And I can almost guarantee she will insist he go to a hospital. I’ll have to report everything.”

Toshinori shuts his eyes, unbalanced and dizzy from the wave of anguish that hits him. “What a nightmare.”

“You should have called an ambulance instead of expecting me to clean up this horrible mess for you.”

“I know. I’m sorry.”

“You almost killed him.”

“I know. I…”

“Let me guess. You’re sorry?”

He swallows. He’s more than that. He’s revolted with himself.

“This,” she seethes. “Shit like this is why I’m almost excited for the day you can’t be All Might anymore.”

“Don’t say that. Please don’t say that.”

She huffs. “Why shouldn’t I? Izuku isn’t the first person you’ve laid out with one of your State-sized attacks, he’s just the first you’ve regretted hurting. I’ve treated people you’ve hit that have been in far worse condition than this, and you didn’t bat an eye over it. Kept smiling that big, famous smile.” She clicks her tongue against the roof of her mouth, floating away from Izuku’s bedside and to the middle of the room where she paces in midair. She stares Toshinori down the entire time, like a caged panther. F/N is ready to sink her teeth into him. “You owe me.”

“I… I do.”

“I want the truth, Toshinori, and I want all of it. You’re going to tell me who this boy is to you, why you keep butting into his life, what business you have. I have no idea what happened tonight, but I can tell from the pity-party you’re throwing yourself in the corner of my office that none of this would have happened if it wasn’t for you.”

She shouldn’t be involved in this.

Toshinori has spent his whole life, since he was a kid, trying to keep F/N ignorant of the shadowy half of his life. He aimed to protect her from the darkest truths. It’s all wasted effort now.

Toshinori takes a deep breath. “The truth is… Izuku Midoriya is my successor.”

Chapter Text

1.

You brace your forehead against the heels of both hands, fighting yourself. Mind is pitted against Body as your blood courses hot and cold, hot and cold. There are so many temperatures of hatred to choose from, and tonight it can’t settle. You can’t settle. “Say it again,” you demand, you dare. A wiser man would keep his mouth shut.

A wiser man would never have fallen into this position.

“I…” Toshinori’s voice is muffled by his own hand. He’s folding again. Curling up like an armadillo. But there is nowhere for him to hide from you now, not on Earth, not in Heaven or Hell. “I gave my quirk to Izuku Midoriya.”

It’s a high pitched whine, an endless tone stretching on in your mind like a flatline warning. Its countermelody is the incoherent, babbling roar of a million half-buried demons. It’s more than you can process all at once. You would have adjusted faster if Toshinori had just punched you in the face. You wish he’d done that instead of this. “How?” you manage to rasp. “How can that be?”

“It’s in the nature of the quirk. We’ve named it One For All . It stockpiles power, holding the quirk of whoever owns it, and then takes that power along when it’s passed to its next holder. All of the strength that used to be mine is his now. But he can barely contain it, let alone control it.”

You’ve observed as much. His broken fingers. The backlash of using All Might’s strength is far too grand on Izuku’s young body. “When? How long ago?”

“I agreed to pass One For All to him almost a year ago now, but…”

“But?”

“He’s only had it since the day of the U.A. entrance exams. I only gave it to him that morning.”

A typhoon howls within you. “Why?” Your voice is ever closer to becoming a hiss. Venom is waiting behind your words. You don’t know what you will say yet. You have no clue. But it will not be kind. You may never be able to be kind to Toshinori again. “Why would you do this? Why would you even want somebody else to be as strong as you’ve been?! Couldn’t he just be allowed to live his own life, without you swooping in and… and using him?!”

“I had to, F/N. I’ve told you before that the world isn’t ready to lose All Might. It’s not the ordinary, everyday criminals that will surge when there isn’t a Symbol of Peace anymore. It will be… It will be somebody far worse.” He raises his hand to cover his mouth and coughs into his palm. Once he’s breathing steady again, he rests both hands on his lap and dares to look you in the eye. He wears the expression of a kicked dog. You have not begun to dig your cleats into his mangy hide. “This quirk is the only thing that can truly act as a weapon against All For One.”

The notorious moniker makes your heart shudder. It’s been decades since you last heard his voice or saw that face, but still he haunts you. His influence follows you. No. It is merely everywhere, far-reaching and looming above, forever casting his shade over the world.

“When I got myself injured all those years ago, it wasn’t because I was fighting an ordinary adversary. It was him . I threw everything I had at him, and even at the heavy price of my body, I thought I’d won. But he got away, F/N. He escaped. Until he’s really gone, Japan can’t be without One For All.” Toshinori reaches over to hold Izuku’s right hand. His left is full of swollen, snapped fingers. His forehead is scarred. His ribs are broken. It never would have happened if Toshinori could learn to stay in his lane. “I know you’re angry, but please try to understand. I had no choice.”

“Explain to me how you’re any better than All For One.”

He is horrified by your words, immediately offended. “What is that supposed to mean?!”

“You barged into this boy’s life, amazed him with your godly power, and dangled a quirk like a treat in front of his nose. You’ve coerced him into agreeing to something he can’t possibly begin to understand the consequences of, haven’t you?”

“I… He’s a smart kid. He’s going to be able to handle everything when the time comes to tell him all the details.”

“You’re lying to him! You gave him The Power of All Might without telling him about the responsibilities that come attached! How do you not see how revolting and sinister that is?! You sold him a house that’s rigged to explode!”

“It isn’t like that. Somebody had to become my successor. Midoriya… You’ve seen it for yourself. He was always meant to be a Hero, but he couldn’t have accomplished that without an impressive quirk, so I—”
You slap him. You cut him across the cheek and you know from the sting and reverb that it was a good hit. “Say that again.”

He stays in his chair and turns slowly to look at you again. Toshinori takes a deep breath. He swallows. “Before One For All, young Midoriya was quirkless. But he dreamed of being a Hero. It would have been impossible for him to become a Hero if we hadn’t—”

You hit him again. And again. “You ableist, quirk-supremacist, child-manipulating, violence-worshiping bastard!” You whip him across the cheek for each of those mortal sins. “Who the hell are you to say he wouldn’t have done it?! Who are you to say this boy couldn’t have been the first?! Do you even know what a Hero is?! Do you live on a different fucking planet?!”

He rubs one of his cheeks, ducking away from you. His chin is wrinkled and his brow furrowed. “You and I have both seen how dangerous this job is. Not having a quirk isn’t just not having an edge in the rankings. It’s bringing an empty toolbox to a worksite.”

You are sick. You are disgusted. “Who the hell are you?!” You float away from Toshinori, lest you tempt yourself to strangle him with surgical tubing. “Whoever you are right now, I don’t know you. Have I ever known you?”

“F/N, please…”

“Don’t you dare victimize yourself in this argument. This boy is brilliant. Do you know how many times I begged Jade Cannon to hire a Hero-coordinator? I’ve seen Midoriya break down the core mechanics of a quirk in his notebook over the course of ten minutes. There are Heroes in the Top Ten who can’t do that in ten hours!” You try to soothe yourself but end up pulling your own hair instead. You could burst. You could start frothing up blood-red fog and plunge this entire room into a state of eternal slumber. You could tear the face off of this man who doesn’t deserve his pretty smile. “Do you know how many times I’ve needed to do a transfusion in the field and been fucked for lack of available blood types?! Quirkless Type-O blood is the safest, best choice for a universal donor, and there’s almost nobody left in the entire world who has it. And wouldn’t you know it, because of you there’s one less now.”

“He… I know he’s special. I know. But I…”

“Why did you have to pick him ?!” Your voice breaks and tears roll down your face. Of everyone on this big, blue planet, why did he have to pick the boy with the stars in his soul? Why did he have to come along and corrupt somebody so wholly, selflessly kind?

“Please don’t fight.”

You startle. Toshinori is as surprised as you are. It shouldn’t have happened this quickly, but Midoriya is awake. He lays with his eyes closed, breathing a little hard, clutching All Might’s hand in an attempt to pull himself up. “Relax, my boy,” Toshinori murmurs, helping him ease back against his pillow. “Did we wake you up?”

As you hurry to dry your eyes and make yourself presentable, you float closer and listen to your patient’s raspy words. “Please don’t be mad at All Might,” he tells you. “This was my decision, too. I would have agreed to help him, and to have a quirk of my own, no matter what. He entrusted me with One For All. He didn’t trick me.”

He heard a lot of this scuffle, then. Dammit. You clear your throat but it doesn’t help much. “Darling, you’ve had a long day. Don’t wear yourself out. I can get another dose of the thick fog brewed up so you can rest.”

“Nurse L/N, it’s my quirk now. I wouldn’t go back on this if I could. I know that I can control it, I just… I don’t know how… I did it before. But I can’t figure out how.”

You prepare the input mask on your medibag. Midoriya’s mask is still on properly, so you start exhaling. The tank ran out already? You aren’t sure if that’s right, but you don’t have the energy to fumble with this machine right now.

“Nurse L/N?”

“Yes, Darling?”

“Please don’t be mad at All Might. He cares a lot about you.”

“Kid, come on… She doesn’t need to hear that kind of thing.” His voice is a husk, devoid of all its joy and warmth. “We’re just worried about you, that’s all. It’s not fighting. Everything is fine.”

“But she hit you.”

And he deserved it, too. You hope those hand prints stick around for a while. “I did,” you tell Midoriya as you raise the pump settings. He should still be high on the fumes and sleep. Getting him back into unconsciousness should be easy. “It wasn’t a very nice thing to do, was it? That’s not how grown adult Heroes should solve their problems.”

“No, it isn’t,” slurs Izuku. “That wasn’t the right move to use at all.”

“It wasn't. What move should I have used?” you coo, watching him still squeezing Toshinori’s hand in little bursts as he slips away.

“The strongest one...A hug…”

2.

The moment you think you’re safe, all of your mother’s horror stories are proven true.

You warned Toshi not to eat all of that suspicious American food, but he didn’t listen. He’s been gone for a while. You suspect he’s throwing up. “Maybe I should call Recovery Girl for advice, ask her if she thinks he’ll need his stomach pumped,” you mutter, flipping through a handful of programs provided by event staff. Mostly it’s briefings about different Heroes that are guests today and their agencies. You managed to find a pamphlet all about Medical Heroes abroad. There are so many strange, interesting looking gadgets on their belts. It seems like everything doubles as a flashlight, too.

InterCon is over, but the stadium is still busy. Heroes who don’t have to travel home right away stick around to meet international fans or challenge their local counterparts. After so many brutal competitions, you expect them to be more tired than they are. It must be the excitement. Someday, you hope to have cool friends all around the world. Or at least some that take your advice and thus choose not to devour radioactive sludge. 

Somebody bumps into you, pushing you aside. You fumble to catch all of your papers. It was probably an innocent mistake, so you don’t say anything.

But then there’s a hand around your wrist.

“Uh… Excuse me?” You pull back, but the man towering over you doesn’t let go. You recognize him from the programs. He’s one of the American Heroes, but you aren’t sure of his name. Leap… something? He smiles at you and he says something, but you can’t decipher a word of it. You’ve never heard an accent like that before. “I’m sorry, I don’t speak English.” Is it English?

There aren’t many people in this pavilion. You came here searching for Toshi, since it’s on the way to the bathrooms. The American Hero kneels down next to you and babbles something as he points at your papers. He glances at you, smirks, and tries, “ Autograph ?”

“Oh, you want to sign the program? Okay, um…” He releases your wrist and you flip through the papers until you find his face. Dune Leaper. You hand it to him, and he uses a pen from his belt to scrawl his signature just below the photograph of him posing with a captured Villain. “Thanks.” 

He tugs on the lapel of your jacket. “U.A.?” Leaper flicks the metal pin bearing your school’s insignia. “Wow…” And then it’s back to things you can’t understand. 

Enough of this. You pull away from him. “Goodbye,” you say stiffly and turn to be on your way.

He pulls you back by your hair and clasps a hand over your mouth before you can shout. “Shh, shh,” he insists. He leans in so his face is next to your ear. “Pretty girl. You maid service? You hentai?”

No matter how hard you struggle against him, this man is bigger and stronger. You can’t get loose. His other hand is on the small of your back.

Bam !

Toshinori wrenches Dune Leaper off of you and throws him into the seats. He stands firmly between you and your attacker, pointing and yelling in flawless English. At least, to you it sounds flawless. It sounds like a miracle.

Leaper gets up and brushes himself off. He glares at Toshinori, but that’s the end of it. He slinks away, toward the private hallways that neither of you have passes to use. 

Toshi holds your face in one hand, your shoulder with his other. “F/N? Are you okay?”

You… aren’t sure.

He didn’t get a chance to hurt you, but…

Did you take too long to answer? Toshinori pulls you up off your feet and against his chest. “Are you okay?” he asks again, quieter.

“I’m ready to go home.”

Your mother was right. This was a stupid idea. A foolish place to go. A waste of your money. You should have stayed home, where everything is predictable and safe. You should have stayed in and studied with snacks. You should have been paying attention.

You feel dirty. Your wrist and face, everywhere he touched, you want to scrub.

“Here,” says Toshinori. He zips you under his jacket. You are packed tight to his chest, almost too warm, as he walks for both of you. With your quirk, you weigh nothing to him. He’s getting so strong. You bet he would carry you just the same if you couldn’t float. “Do you want me to pull the zipper over your head?”

“Only a little. I… I still need to breathe.” He doesn’t stink, but his scent is strong. It’s thick enough to smother. He locks you in up to the forehead.

The walk to the rail station is long. For a while, he says nothing. One of his hands is steady on your back as he meanders through the city. If people are looking, you don’t want to know. You stay huddled in his coat. 

“So,” he says at last. “Today was a little harder than expected.”

You pull yourself down further, a turtle instead of a person. Turtles don’t have to make small talk about assault.

Toshinori pats your back. “You’re making me look fat, you know?”

You swallow back a few tears. “No, the pizza did that.”

“Aha… Speaking of which, can you do me a favor while you’re down there? Can you put your ear to my stomach and see if you can hear it?”

“Hear it? Hear the pizza?” You pop your head back up, only slightly, to confirm you understood correctly. “What do you think the pizza is going to sound like?”

“Regret.”

So stupid.

You cough.

You chuckle.

You laugh and cry at the same time.

Today wasn’t great, but Toshinori has a magical way of improving every moment you spend with him.

3.

“Darling, you need to stop waking up like this,” you murmur, supporting Izuku’s head for a moment while you turn his pillow and check his injuries. Normally, your quirk manages a knockout even with patients who are resistant to airborn treatments. You know it is healing Midoriya. The worst of his breaks have mended and there’s not a patch of open skin to be found. But, it’s not keeping him asleep, though that’s what he needs.

“I’m sorry,” he croaks. “I’m trying. It’s just so quiet… I normally have something on somewhere in my room, like a movie, so it isn’t this quiet…”

That’s an easy enough fix. You go to the closet for your tablet. Once you’ve managed to fold it out, you set things up so Izuku can watch and fall asleep to the Quasar Falls remake. Something he’s seen before and won’t have to concentrate on. Noise.

Even before the opening credits crawl is finished, you see a difference. Izuku’s eyes flutter and his head bobs a few times, ultimately resting heavy and slumping slightly toward Toshinori.

You continue to ignore the man. He continues to sit in the corner, holding the boy’s hand, looking like a sad gargoyle. 

Now that he’s actually sleeping, you can’t make an excuse of fussing over Izuku anymore. It isn’t in you to do real paperwork at this hour, either. You peek out the window and see the moon swimming alone in darkness. If not for that pearl crescent, you could convince yourself that you live in Polaris City, and this is the world under Supermassive’s eternal night. There is no dawn in sight. You sit down with a clipboard, pen, and paper to watch the movie and make a proper answer key for Vlad King’s class.

It’s too easy.

You can do this sort of thing in your sleep. It comes from experience and a lifetime of analyzing every detail in your environment to survive. Apart from timestamps, you remember all of the major violations you found in your first viewing. That makes it easier for you to excuse yourself and focus on checking Izuku’s vitals from time to time. It also makes it easier for your attention to drift back to Toshinori. 

He’s watching the movie.

You can’t help searching his expression for reactions.

You wish you liked him enough to talk to him right now. You wish you could chatter away like a dumb, excited child. Don’t you like how the new version of that line sounds? Don’t you hate how they cut out the part where Supermassive culls his own minions? Do you remember that secret handshake we made up based on this scene?

You wish he was still your friend.

The movie does its job, which is lulling Midoriya. He doesn’t react a bit when you drop your pen and it clatters against the tile floor. It seems he’s slumbered through the first act which is a longer session than you managed unaided. Perfect.

The next time you glance at Toshinori, your eyes meet. You look away in a hurry. This answer key is important, you convince yourself. You really need to get that done.

For the bulk of the remake, you resist the urge to look at Toshinori again. But come the finale, you can’t hold back. Without fail, every time you watched that movie together, he used to cry at the end. He claims he hasn’t shed a tear since he graduated. Maybe, you think, this will shake something loose.

“ This night cannot last forever ,” says Quasar.

And that kiss. Oh, it still electrifies you. You glance over.

Toshinori looks… unimpressed.

Unimpressed with the kiss.

Unimpressed with the explosion.

Unimpressed with the last scene.

By the time credits roll, he is shaking his head. You hear no comment, only a long, low sigh.

“You didn’t like it?” you ask, trying not to be too loud. You need to find something else to occupy the role of keeping your patient calm. You go to the beginning of Aprons! and let it autoplay. You’ve caught up, thanks to your time sleeping in the beanbag chair. “I’m surprised. You used to talk a lot about how they deserved a happy ending.”

“Did I? I suppose I do remember that.” He scratches the back of his head. Toshinori makes no further attempts to look at you. He stares at the floor, his shoes, the door, the office computer’s blackened screen. “Thematically, it doesn’t make sense for them to live. Quasar and Lux are supposed to be Orpheus and Eurydice.”

“Are they? I’m not sure about that. In the last act, maybe.”

“The last act is a microcosm of the larger event and their relationship as a whole. Quasar’s first action of the movie is chasing after Lux, who is figuratively dead to him and literally consumed by the task of bringing down Supermassive. Supermassive, in that sense, owns her the same way that Hades owned Eurydice’s soul. The last act kicks off with Quasar failing to save Lux because he didn’t heed a simple instruction. It’s Orpheus turning around even though he was told not to and warned of the consequences.”

You set your paper aside. Suddenly, you remember you are in a school. “That’s a rather academic take. And here I was expecting you just didn’t like the new dialogue.”

“I uh… I took some film and mythology courses in college thinking they’d be easy credits and ended up having to write a lot of essays. I also didn’t have time to take in much new material since I’d started Hero work and had other classes. I stretched Quasar Falls about as far as a reference can be stretched.” He manages a crooked, somber, almost-smile. “But I do also prefer the old dialogue.”

“It certainly sounds like you’ve done your research. It makes sense for a new tragedy to really just be an old one in fresh clothes. But I have to say, I still like this new ending better.”

“Seriously? You used to defend the tragic ending as ‘meaningful’ and ‘perfectly performed’.”

“Hey, now. I think the new guy did a great job.”

“He’s no Yoshie Kuesa.”

“Who said he had to be? In a lot of ways, this young man does a better job as Quasar. He goes further out of his way to express his opinions of Lux as a person, and not just Lux as an extension of himself.”

Toshinori’s response is a shrug. He leans back in his chair to stare at the ceiling. He looks as tired as you feel.

“... Did you eat recently?”

He shakes his head.

“You should have something.”

“No thank you.”

“How about some cold tea?”

“Sure.”

You rise and float about, restless and exhausted all at once. You can’t keep up with all these surprises. The long weekend has you in need of another long weekend to recover, and you aren’t going to get one. You aren’t going to get one minute.

Neither is Toshinori and he needs it worse than you do.

You go before him and hand him the chilled can. He accepts it and thanks you without looking up. The last time you were in this spot, you slapped the daylights out of him. You stopped feeling proud of yourself a while ago. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine. You’re allowed to like terrible actors and bad movies.”

You sigh. “No, I’m sorry I lost my temper. I should know better. All I managed to do was make things worse.”

“I’ve been hurt worse by the insects I run into while moving at high speeds. Don’t worry about it.” His actions don’t match his words. You managed to wound his ego somewhere. He holds the cold tea and lets it dangle in his big, bony hand until it starts to warm.

“I don’t really think you’re a bad person. And I don’t think this whole event is enough of a reason to want All Might to disappear. I just…” You can’t figure out how to talk to him right now. You don’t know how you can express yourself without making things worse again. You just didn’t think you could be so disappointed in him. But that’s a conversation for a different day, when you aren’t teetering on the edge of a meltdown and he isn’t hours upon hours overdue for his essential meals. “Do you want a hug?”

“... Yes.”

You float into his orbit and wait for him to pull you in, but he doesn’t. You take the tea he doesn’t intend to drink out of his hand, set it aside, and hold his head to your collar. Toshinori is stiff. But then you comb your fingers through his hair. Muscles in his jaw and neck twitch against your skin. He leans into you. 

Toshinori whispers, “Is he going to be okay?”

“Izuku is going to be okay. He just needs time and support.”

He nods, but keeps his face tucked lower from your view. You put both of your arms around him, your sleeves a decent blindfold, your chest a makeshift pillow. The longer you brush through his hair, the calmer he becomes. “How am I ever going to make this right?” he asks, grief-stricken. “Everything feels like it’s falling apart. Am I losing my mind?”

“You’re tired, hungry, thirsty, and you had a really bad day. You’re not going crazy, Toshi. You’re just overwhelmed.”

He hugs you, but his hand claws into your back. Does he want you closer? You snake your way against his chest so you are supporting his chin with your shoulder. “You can’t tell anyone about One For All. Please, promise me you won’t say anything. F/N, please.”

“I promise.” You can’t help settling against him. You’ve missed these long, tender hugs. You’ve missed falling into his gravity. You can’t will yourself to leave this hold. “But I’m not taking oaths for free. You need to make some promises to me, too.”

“Name it.”

“First, we need to really train that boy. This kid needs so much more time to adjust than he’s going to get. The least we can do is get him comfortable enough with your abilities to do great things without taking great damage. At least a half hour every day, okay?”

“You’re going to help?”

“Of course I am.”

“Thank you.”

Chapter Text

1.

“How does your head feel? What about your ribs? Take another deep breath for me.”

“I’m fine, Nurse L/N, really.” Midoriya rubs the sleep out of his eyes and gently shoves her stethoscope off of his back. He wears a faint, unconvincing smile.

F/N whirls around her office, stuffing snacks and bandages into his backpack, offering him aspirin he doesn’t accept, and finally forcing him to pocket a pair of her special inhalers.

Toshinori is no less busy, though his position is stationary. “Let’s make sure we all have our stories straight,” he says. He does what he can to fix Midoriya’s hair over the bandaid on his forehead, as well as straighten Izuku’s uniform. His tie is a mess. Toshinori does the knot up properly for his successor, but leaves it loose for fear of irritating bruises. “None of us spent the night here. We arrived in the morning, separately.”

“And I came to the nursing office after I fell down some stairs on my way to school.” Midoriya yawns. “After this, before class, I’ll study in the library so it just looks like I wanted to get a head start on my homework assignment.”

A Phone Call Is Here! A Phone Call Is Here!

Toshinori reaches for his phone, but the call isn’t for him. It’s coming from Midoriya’s device. He looks at the screen for a while, rubs his eyes again, forces a brighter grin, and answers. “Hi, mom!”

The adults glance at one another. F/N continues to rummage around her office for things to shove into the kid’s bag and pockets, busying herself while listening. Toshinori can’t hear Inko Midoriya’s voice very clearly from where he’s seated, but he would need to be a deaf man not to recognize the sobs of a worried parent. “I’m sorry,” Izuku says, the ghost of a laugh on his cracked lips. “I spent the night at a friend’s house. I ended up having so much fun, I guess it totally slipped my mind to call you. I’m sorry, mom. No, of course I’ll be more careful. Yeah. Yeah! I’ll be home tonight, don’t worry. Hotpot sounds amazing. You’re the best. I love you, too.” Without missing a beat, he ends his call and puts the device away. 

It makes Toshi’s heart ache to hear how easily the kid lies to his mother. To keep secrets seems so much darker than he expects of sunny, young Izuku. But then, Izuku has been doing just that for him all this time. Maybe the blame is his. Maybe he’s cultivated this habit of dishonesty in service to loyalty. “No training tonight. It doesn’t make any sense to start before you’re feeling better. Spend the night recovering at home, and have a good meal. Nothing does a body better than quality time with loved ones. Well… well, maybe F/N’s breath, but that’s not the point I was going for. Ah… This is why I should always write down and practice my speeches,” he mutters, fussing with his own unruly bangs for some sense of grounding. This is already turning out to be a rough morning.

“Thanks, All Might. I will. Thanks, Nurse L/N.”

She forces a pair of hot packs into his scarred, little hands. “Just try to stay awake through class, darling. I doubt Aizawa is the sort to extend the kind of mercy he’s been giving himself.”

Midoriya nods, dragging his feet out the door and meandering toward the library and study rooms. Toshinori watches him go, every little footstep a reminder of how much smaller and younger Midoriya is than the grown Hero he’ll soon have to become. “I have no idea what I’m going to do with that boy,” he murmurs.

F/N stuffs a hot pack between Toshinori’s fingers. His muscles, twitching and cramping from anxiety, start to unclench. He winces, but she is there to hold his hands steady and press away the worst of the pain. “He definitely needs more oversight. Training might help.”

“I hope so, but…” No. He stops himself from dragging her down into his mind vortex. This isn’t the day. She’s been working off the clock, all because of him and his mistakes, for almost twelve hours. The last thing she will want is to hear him make excuses for regularly missing training sessions that have yet to even begin. Health or no health, he will find a way to be there. That’s the least he owes Izuku. “For now, I think we should meet at Dagoba Municipal Beach. It’s clean, but it still doesn’t see much tourism. We all know how to get there. It’s not far from home for either of you.”

“Sounds like a good idea.” But her tone is flat. Toshinori can feel F/N is still angry with him. He doesn’t blame her. He’s been growing less pleased with himself every second for seven years with no end in sight. There is plenty here to dislike. “Are you going to be okay?”

“I’m fine.”

“You have to teach today, and you didn’t get any sleep. You should try to rest while you still can.”

“Thank you, but I’d feel better if I went and got some fresh air instead.”

She clicks her tongue, sighing a shimmering cloud around his head like a halo. “Which means you’re going to patrol for Villains. That’s hardly a restful activity.”

“I disagree.” He rises, inhaling all of her spare quirk that he possibly can on his way up. There’s a wicked ache in his knees and back. His shoulders are in knots. Toshinori stretches with his fingers to the sky, brushing the ceiling tiles, before snapping into All Might form. Flexing and posing to test his strength, as well as the conviction of his mask, he says, “Nothing makes me feel better than a little bit of justice in the morning.”

2.

You aren't thinking. You're staring at the screen, going through prompts and commands without reading or contemplating. Every box you click, every file you transfer, every task is mindless. There is no brain in your skull, only wind passing through chambers to create a faint, sad sound— not unlike a seashell.

“Dearie, you’re sighing again.”

“Sorry.” You shake your head until some thin excuse for thought comes loose. 

It isn’t fair .

Izuku deserves a childhood. Yes, he wants to be a Hero and yes, U.A. is demanding. But he is entitled to the last vestiges of naivete that childhood offers. He shouldn’t be wrapped up in All Might’s world, drowning already in politics, deceit, peril, agony… He’s fifteen, but at the rate he’s burning his candle, he’s going to be dead well before graduation.

It’s Toshinori’s fault. All his fault. He should have kept his hands off of this situation and just let the boy grow toward the sun, like nature intended.

It’s too late now. It can’t be undone.

Everything is coming undone.

He’ll be dead soon. He’ll be gone in less than two years, maybe less than one year. Toshinori will be gone, and he’ll take with him All Might and everything All Might promises. He expects somehow, within months, Izuku will accomplish what he needed decades to master and hone. Toshinori expects the impossible of this boy.

“Dearie?”

“Sorry,” you say, quieter this time. “I’ll try to quit fogging up the room. Or I’ll smother myself. That will end it.”

Is that what was happening between Toshinori and Gran Torino and that Nana Shimura woman so many years ago? Was she grooming him to take from her the quirk that eventually found its way to Midoriya? All the sneaking around and secrets… You assumed he was somebody important’s bastard child, or in a program for low-class kids with promising abilities, or any other more likely excuse to have Pro Heroes tutoring him under the table. He spent all of high school, maybe even some of middle school, preparing to carry the torch. He knew from the start how dark the world, how dire the task, how impossible the odds. Success, perhaps, has warped his perspective on probability. Just because All Might can shoot the moon doesn’t mean anybody can. 

You let your guard down and you allowed yourself to like him again. Huge mistake. All Might is as horrible a person today as he was a decade ago, two decades ago. And the Toshinori you knew and loved in high school? He's been dead and gone ever since he first donned the colorful cape and boots.

If only you could let this go. If only you were the kind of person who knew how to let go of your anger.

You aren't.

You only know how to let rage take the driver's seat. It rarely takes you anywhere satisfying. It usually just sends you hurdling off the road, through the safety walls, directly into more trouble.

There is nobody you can hurt, or threaten, or kill that could possibly make this situation better.

"Dearie," Recovery Girl tries again, this time tugging your sleeve to get your hand off the keyboard. "You have a visitor."

You scramble to catch up with the world outside your head, spin in your chair to turn around, and find Midnight waving for you from the office door frame. "You must have been really in the groove." She grins. She's in office attire, but Kayama is slightly overdressed for an ordinary day of teaching. Nice jewelry, time-consuming up-do, flashy eyeshadow and shiny, new boots. "Do you have time to take a lunch break? I'm itching to get off of school grounds for a hot minute."

You hit the screen's power button to preserve electricity and sensitive data, then glimpse your reflection in the monitor glass. Makeup is a day old, your hair is tossed into a sloppy knot, and you're wearing spare, not-quite-matching clothes. "Oh, I… I'm not…"

"That's a delightful idea," says your boss. The old healer hands you your purse and overcoat. "You should step out for a while, dearie. I can tell you need a break."

"I haven't done anything but scan all morning. I'm fine."

More hostile, she smacks you on the knuckles with her cane to force you to grab your coat. "Don't take that tone with me, young lady. I've known you plenty long enough to tell when you've hit a burnout. I'm prescribing you a lunch break and half a day off. After this, go home and rest."

"But—"

"I'll get her where she needs to go, Recovery Girl," winks Midnight. "How about it, F/N? I owe you big for yesterday. Let me take you for a ride?"

"... I'll send some aspirin and finger condoms with you," says Chiyo, already shuffling off toward the supply cabinets.

"No! No no! That's not necessary. I'll be going now. To lunch. Just lunch." You clear your throat and collect yourself. In a hurry, you leave the office and shove Midnight out with you. "You don't actually need to take me home after. I'm perfectly happy returning to the school."

"I heard Recovery Girl loud and clear. I'm not going to get in trouble with her by disobeying an order. She might remember this and let me die on purpose some day."

Chiyo would never, but that isn't your problem. You don't fear your mentor's wrath half as much as you fear going home. It's built up in your mind for too long, perhaps. You let yourself be daunted, you ran away and continued to run, and now you're more comfortable living like a vagrant than a renter. 

It's all in your head. There's no danger there, no more than usual at least. You have new locks waiting for you. You have thin walls and jumpy neighbors. If there was somebody out to hurt you, help would come right away. 

Except that one time it didn't, and you would have been murdered if not for Izuku.

Izuku who takes much more after Toshinori than he should.

Toshinori who keeps finding new ways to disappoint you.

You don't know what to do.

There is nothing you can do.

"You're really zoning out today."

You blink yourself awake to stare headlong into food you don't remember ordering. It's still warm, nudged but uneaten, paired with a peach drink that clings in your mouth. Midnight is nearly done with her own meal, a salad with a pair of small meat buns served on the side. Not a carrot in sight. You don't recognize the restaurant, but you're seated near enough to a window to look at the businesses and signs outside, and you're familiar with the area. "Sorry. I guess I didn't get enough sleep last night," you say. Your voice is flatter and drier than you intend.

Nemuri shrugs and smiles amiably. "It happens. You left in such a hurry, I figured it had to be some sort of unpleasant, Medical Hero emergency. It seems like you're always racing around to help others."

Yesterday feels like the distant past. You've aged by centuries since the photoshoot. "Most of the time, it's my pleasure."

" Most ? I didn't take things too far, did I?"

"No, not you. Yours was a pleasant diversion, however odd."

"But whatever you were up to last night wasn't."

You say nothing. When you examine your sleeves, you swear you still see flecks of that boy's blood even though you've changed clothes.

"I figured. All the more reason I'm happy to take you out to eat today. Seriously, I can't begin to express how grateful I am that you introduced me to Fleece. I look fantastic. I feel fantastic. I made like, three follow-up appointments so he can hit my old costumes and whiten my teeth." Midnight grins, unashamed of her pearly chompers. She combs through her long, loose hair to show the quality of its raven sheen. “You didn’t need to keep him your dirty little secret, you know. A woman has to do everything she can to keep her image pristine in this industry. I certainly don’t think any less of you for using quirks to keep your edge in beauty.”

“Thank you,” you say, stirring your drink with a straw and watching the ice cubes dissolve. “I’d appreciate it if you didn’t mention him to many other Heroes. He’s busy enough as it is, and I wouldn’t be able to forgive myself if it put a burden on our friendship.”

“Of course. I’m not one to divulge.” She winks at you and picks at her food a bit more. You attempt to do the same. To your surprise, you are very hungry. You’re struggling to swallow too big of a bite when Midnight says, “So, how long have you been going to him for corrective work?”

“To tell you the truth, I don’t see Fleece for that kind of thing. We’re drinking buddies, mostly.”

She’s astounded, and maybe a bit disappointed. “No kidding? So you’re just naturally like this? You look like you could be my sister, but you’re old enough to be my mom.”

Oh that comment makes your skin crawl in the very strangest way. You try to laugh it off, but the attempt dries into a cough. “It’s not as convenient as you seem to think it is. People see me as younger than I am and assume I’m a junior in my field. I have my identity questioned a lot when my paperwork doesn’t align with my photo. I got carded at every bar and club I went to well into my forties.”

“That sounds like a dream come true,” she mewls.

To each their own, you suppose. You finish your entire meal before Kayama, in spite of a late start, and then sip on your drink. The peach mingles with your natural mintiness, leaving you refreshed.

“How did you meet? At a bar, maybe? I have a hard time imagining you as a naughty little barfly. Especially after you were so demure at Moon Butterfly.”

It does bring a little smile to your face to hear how far off the mark Midnight is with her assumptions about your life. You are a master of disguise. “I met Fleece when I hired him to cover up my tattoos.”

Her eyes go wide. Kayama takes her glasses off, wipes them clean, and then puts them on again but further down the bridge of her nose. She leans in to look you over. “ Shut up . You? You had a tattoo?”

“I had tattoos, plural. All up and down my legs, past the knee. Both of my arms were covered. I had a large back piece as well, but it never got fully colored. I started it in my twenties, quit in my mid-twenties and got a respectable job, and let it stay an outline until the day it got wiped away. There’s a good reason I’m always wearing full sleeves, turtlenecks, and long skirts or pants in my old agency photos.”

She gawks. “I would never have guessed. You seem like such a— and please don’t take this the wrong way— stick in the mud. You seriously had that much ink? And you just got rid of it? Wasn’t it expensive?”

“Of course it was expensive! I blew so much cash in my twenties on things like that, trying to affirm my identity or just feel alive. I didn’t think I would be a part of respectable society again after I dropped out of U.A., but…” But here you are, thirty years after your biggest, ugliest fall from grace. Here you are with some good friends in your life, and a lot of kids growing strong with a bit of your help, and your childhood friend back in your life after missing him for longer than you really knew him. “There are things in this world worth changing for. I held on to the past for a long time, but it only ended up inconveniencing me. Couldn’t wear swimsuits, or even short sleeves in summer. No shorts, either. In my own way, I had to do what it took to preserve my image, like you said. Respectable Heroes don’t have ink. That’s just how it is. It might always be like that.”

After a while staring out the window, Kayama takes her glasses off, folds them, and sets them on the table. She pinches the bridge of her nose. Rather than really looking at you, she stares just to the side of your face for a while. “Hero Society can be rigid. It took some prompting from Thirteen, but I did eventually remember where I’d first seen you. You were one of the people behind that massive Hero Reform Bill from eight or nine years ago.”

And there it is, another piece of your past your wish could be erased. “It’s not something you should waste your time worrying about. It didn’t pass, and the world hasn’t ended. So it would seem my detractors were proven correct. Simple as that.”

“No, it isn’t. I… Dammit.” You haven’t seen her this uncomfortable since she was a carrot. Even then, she never squirmed the way she is now, as if her own skin is too tight. “I want to apologize.”

“What for? Everything is fine, Kayama.”

“No, it’s not. I… Eight years ago, when Shattered Warriors was presented through the Council, I voted against it. I saw the body-cam requirements it laid out and thought about how it would end up being used to control my costume customization even more and—”

“I really don’t want to hear this.” You hold your hand up and shake your head. This conversation needs to be done. “It’s fine. I’m not angry at you for your vote, and I never was, and I never will be. There was only one person whose vote I really cared about and wanted. Needed. And he…” He found a new way to disappoint you.

“... Oh.” She folds her hands together on the table. The plastic stems of her glasses click and clatter as she fidgets with them. “That’s why. That’s why you and All Might… That’s why you two were avoiding each other.”

“It’s one reason. But that doesn’t matter any more. Shattered Warriors is water under the bridge. I’m over it.”

Kayama frowns. “Are you? Really?”

No.

And you never will be.

3.

Toshinori is almost relieved to see Midoriya passed out under a tree next to young Kaminari. Heaven knows the boy could use some extra rest. But he worries about Aizawa’s temper, and what the head of the Heroics department might do if he catches his students napping while they’re supposed to be observing their classmates’ exercises.

Clear, warm weather has the kids restless. They’re all over the field, barely paying attention to the display of Tokoyami and Hagakure navigating a semi-collapsed tunnel system. He has to wrestle with his mind to pay attention to the lesson rather than drift off for a stretch and a daydream.

Focus.

Focus.

Focal.

Folk lore.

Bigfoot.

Oops. He shakes his head and makes himself come back to reality. Evidently, his morning work wasn’t enough to properly stimulate. He still has a lot of energy. He’ll be blowing off steam after school ends, looking for those rotten Villains who cornered Midoriya yesterday.

Kaminari snores, startling Midoriya awake. The other relaxing students giggle, amassing in pairs. Uraraka and Asui, Sero and Shoji, Kirishima and Ashido. Toshinori allows his attention to drift, but only sideways. He’s paying attention to the kids. Just supervising. Doing his job.

“Man, he really fried his brain this time. Do you think we should take him up to the nursing office?”

“He gets this way all the time. Just give him a while to chill out,” Kirishima encourages. He wads up his gym jacket and stuffs it under the sleeping boy’s head. “If he doesn’t feel better by the end of class, I’ll take him myself.”

“That’s very responsible of you,” remarks Asui. “You’re a good friend, Kirishima.”

“I am? You think? It’s not because he’s my friend, though— I’d help anyone if they need me. What about you, Midoriya? You look a little green. Do you need to see the nurse again?”

He shakes his head, all while fishing through his pocket. “She already gave me this. I guess I better use it, actually.” With some difficulty, his fingers sore from the practice, he manages to push the capsule into place and inhale the contents. He winces and holds it for a second, then exhales a few loose, greenish sparkles.

“Wow, that smelled nice! Is that Nurse L/N’s quirk?”