Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Izuku sat in the centre of the studio floor, legs spread wide. Lichtenberg hands pushed against scarred shoulders; bringing the green haired teen forward, bare chest millimeters from the ground. Izuku gave a deep exhale, stretching until he was flush with the floor's cold surface. Denki let go of his shoulders and Izuku slowly returned to a sitting position. Reaching for his right foot, Izuku stretched his sides as he touched his nose to his knee. Switching feet, he repeated the action while deeply inhaling and exhaling. Slowly, he worked through each muscle to ensure he didn’t cause injury to himself while he performed. 

My body has taken enough damage over the years . He thought quietly to himself while bringing his arms above his head and bending one at the elbow; arms rippling with taught muscles as he reached between his shoulders. As he switched arms Izuku’s mind recalled his recent villain encounter. 

Having entered his final year at UA, Izuku felt like he was running into villains every other day. This particular villain had possessed an interesting quirk - Sensory Deprivation. Unlike most individuals who would have targeted their enemies eyes, blinding them in battle, this villain had targeted Izuku’s hearing. Their mistake. Being hard of hearing since middle school, Izuku had trained to adjust for the inevitability of losing his hearing completely. The sudden absence of sound had been a surprise at first but Izuku was quick to recover; focusing on the fight at hand. If anything his lack of reaction to the sudden sound deprivation seemed to set the villain on edge, allowing Izuku his opening. The fight had ended quickly without casualties or damage to the city. 

Afterwards Izuku had spent several hours alone in his dorm room waiting for the villain's quirk to pass. Things as they were, he still hadn’t made public what was happening to him. Outside of a few members of the faculty and a couple of close friends, Izuku had told no one about his hearing loss. How could he explain to his peers that behind his smile was a man falling apart at the seams. Between the hearing, the broken bones and the new quirks that seemed to crop up over night Izuku was starting to lose faith in himself as a hero. Hero’s took care of people, and he could barely take care of himself. 

Izuku let out a groan as he continued to stretch his limbs, warming up various muscle groups. Tight sinew rippled under scarred flesh as he pulled his limbs across his body in careful motions. Perhaps that was the reason that he loved to perform. A means of escape and self expression that wasn’t dependent on the public’s opinion. It was his way of coping with what was beyond his control - his way of feeling less broken.

As Izuku stretched, Denki quietly observed the expressions that crossed the green haired teens face. Each change of expression caused sharp pains to run through the lightning bug's chest. As much as he wanted to say something - to put Izuku at ease - there was nothing that he could say. At least, nothing that wouldn’t make things worse. Sometimes Denki wished that Izuku hadn’t corrected his habit of mumbling; a habit that had gotten Izuku in trouble during a fight eleven months ago. There was nothing Denki wanted more than to listen to his classmates ramblings, just so he could get some inkling of the issues that the teen was facing. Since a verbal window into the teens' thoughts wasn’t happening any time soon, Denki did what he did best. Talked.

“Izuku?” Denki asked, interrupting his partner's silent torment, “You okay man...you seem a little more lost in thought than usual.” A look of concern spreading across the brow of the electric blond, a crooked smile settling on his face. 

“Ri...right! Sorry. That’s my bad Denki.” Izuku said, absentmindedly thumbing a scar that spread across his nasal bridge, spilling onto his left cheek. “I’ll stay focused on rehearsal. Sorry. I got distracted. It won't happen again. My mind is officially a no hero zone for the next three hours,” smile spreading across his freckled face.

“Okay...that’s not quite what I meant man, but I appreciate the new sense of focus.”

“Oh...uh. Sorry. What did you mean then?” Izuku said, letting his head fall to the side. Several small forest green braids fell over his shoulder, as he looked towards Denki in bafflement.

Denki sighed, hiding his internal frustrations. “You know...we can talk when things become overwhelming. I mean, yeah, I...I know we agreed on no hero talk at the studio, but if something is bothering you, I’m always here for you.”

Izuku glanced at his classmate. His smile was a shadow of the previous brilliance he had shown Denki a moment ago. 

“I’m okay. Things will work out.” Izuku’s tone sounded hollow; as if he was trying to convince himself and failing miserably.

“It’s fine if you don’t want to talk too. You know where I live and my doors always open. Okay?”

Izuku nodded silently before turning to look away. Somehow Denki could always tell. Careful idiot, your mask is slipping. You’re causing problems for others. Focus. Izuku thought.

“We should probably start practicing,” Izuku stated quietly. 

“Yeah, sure.” Denki agreed. 

“Especially if we want to be at a hundred percent for the competition this weekend!” Denki quipped, providing Izuku with one of his famous hundred volt smiles as he sat down beside him on the studio floor. “I just need some help with my last few stretches if you don’t mind?” 

Izuku nodded, agreeing to help with the stretches, as Denki had predicted. He spread his legs out and waited as Izuku pulled himself off the floor to assist in much the same way as the blond had assisted Izuku earlier. Scarred hands pressed against Denki’s shoulders, the blond reaching his darkened fingers and Lichtenberg arms out across the studio floor. Afterwards Izuku joined Denki on the floor, legs spread out as they helped one another with their final stretch, pulling and pushing one another with their arms as they restrained themselves with their legs. Each in turn pulled the other forward as they loosened their shoulders and stretched their backs, head hanging in a straight line between their outstretched arms. 

“You good?” Denki asked.

“Yeah. You?”

“Definitely, so let's get this going before we run out of time. Eight o’clock classes come fast, even if it is only five-thirty right now.”

Izuku nodded in agreement, “You seem enthusiastic today Denki.”

“I’m pumped man, how can you not be? We get to compete in both categories for each division this weekend, you know how rare that is?” his tone one of near disbelief. Excited eyes stared at Izuku.

“That’s true. It’s not often that they host both divisions in one competition. They usually separate the quirked from the quirkless.” Izuku mused, a small smile spreading across his face as he quietly recalled his competition days in the quirkless category. Unlike many who competed without using their quirk, he had never had a quirk. Yet another way he had been broken.

Denki nodded, his excitement uncontainable. “We should seriously focus though, before we run out of time.”

Agreeing, Izuku walked over to the far right side of the studio and prepared his music; taking special care to ensure he could feel the beat of the bass from the device adhered to his right pectoral. Mei had been great about collaborating and creating assistive devices Izuku designed; she’d become a valued friend and confidant over the years. Among all the people at UA, Mei was the only student who knew about and regularly attended their competitions. In addition to the bass plate on his chest, Mei had also created a small device molded to the shape of his right ear. Its purpose being to block out certain frequencies to ensure he didn’t cause any unnecessary damage to what remained of his hearing. He had no need of a second device, having lost the hearing in his left ear eleven months ago. Sighing, Izuku pulled himself out of his head, and turned his focus towards the task at hand.

Two pieces of smooth crimson silk hung a perilous twenty-two feet above the ground. Grasping one of the pieces with his thumb Izuku twisted his arm, wrapping the silks around his left palm, wrist, and elbow continuing up to his shoulder, leaving gaps between the wound fabric. The muscles in his arm became taut as he tested the strength of the silks, ensuring everything was equally distributed. Entwining the silks around his right arm, as he had done with the left, Izuku took a deep breath and centered himself beneath the silks. Phone on the floor next to him, he tapped the play button with his toe - an act in which he had become quite proficient - waiting as the music bled into the quiet of his mind. Izuku kicked his feet into the air, twisting and turning his body, strategically wrapping his waist and his limbs with the lengthy silks as he ascended higher and higher. 

Meanwhile Denki had reached his own set of silks on the far left side of the studio. They were the only two who came for early morning rehearsals; after school rehearsals conflicted heavily with their schedules. Denki was grateful that their instructor was comfortable with them rehearsing alone. He’d worked up the nerve to ask why once and her response had been blunt but simple.

“If you can run headfirst into a life or death battle against villains, I doubt there is little my silks could do to you so long as you recall your training.” 

She had a point. Denki shook his head, breathing deeply as he sank his mind into the headspace he needed for his routine.

“Hey Google, play track 8” Denki called.

“Playing track 8,” came the voice of the small device just off stage. A song with a memorable beat began to play on the small speaker. Denki stepped forward, grasping the silks tightly with both hands, entwining one ankle in the silk. While pulling himself upwards, he released his ankle, always rewrapping it higher in the silk before continuing to climb. When he reached the highest point, he began to wrap his body in time to the beat of the music, occasionally releasing the tension and sliding through the fabric towards the floor.

Both bodies suspended by silk, climbed higher and higher off the ground. Waists wrapped in sheer fabric, arms loosening restraints, freeing themselves as legs found purchase in the silks. 

As he worked through his routine Izuku found himself lost in the feeling. His mind wandered back to the first time that he had participated in an aerial silks lesson. Originally Izuku had been enrolled in a dance class, a pastime he had been curious about pursuing. He had quickly come to the realization that he had no talent for hip-hop. It wasn’t that he hadn’t tried, so much as the fact that Izuku hadn’t really been given the chance. 

Kacchan, whom he had originally enrolled with, usually found issue with all of the little mistakes he was making. The dance instructors had been the other issue. They were less than thrilled with the idea of teaching someone quirkless, often neglecting rather intentionally, to help Izuku when he was struggling. So Izuku decided to quit dance class and found an alternative hobby. It had taken a while to discover the aerial arts but one day in his internet explorations - trying to find a video of Eraserhead in action - Izuku had accidently stumbled across a video of a man in tight pants soaring through the air like the heroes he had come to admire. 

Tight pants . Izuku chuckled to himself as he loosened his hands on the silks, falling several feet towards the ground, turning left and right picking up speed with each rotation. He gripped the fabric, stopping abruptly, upside down and swinging gently. If I recall, I thought it looked like a superhero costume.

It was true, young Izuku had seen the videos and immersed himself in studying the artform. First visually, taking notes in a special notebook just for the extra-curricular activity; then after several months of research he had brought the topic of lessons up to his mother. 

Inko had looked at her son with concern, she knew how he was when he had a goal in mind. She’d questioned him endlessly about whether he would stick to this hobby or if his lack of quirk would be a concern. Izuku had explained to her that there was a local studio that was run by a married couple. One of whom had a quirk, one of whom did not and that all interested parties were allowed to attend the classes. This did little to calm Inko’s concerns, but she had scrimped and saved up enough to pay the entrance fee and after Izuku’s first lesson when he was ten, she could see that there was no going back.

I’ve been with the Simple Silks Aerial Company almost eight years now. Can’t believe it’s been that long. Izuku thought as he slowly released the silks again, spinning quickly towards the floor, and stopping in time to the final beat of the music. His face was a mere foot above the blue mat that rested on the ground below him. Carefully he unwrapped himself, brought himself out of his final position, and set his feet on the floor. 

Denki was to Izuku’s left, completing the finishing pose of his own routine.

“Think you’re ready?” Izuku asked.

“For the competition? Absolutely!” He grinned, instructing his device to stop the music before the next song could start. “What about you?”

“Definitely! Though I’ll probably run through the routine again in my head another dozen times or so before Saturday.” admitted the green haired teen with a laugh.

Denki laughed in kind at the other boy's in-character confession. It was exactly the behaviour that he had come to know from Izuku over the last six years. He recalled the first time he had visited the Midoriya’s house after a competition and discovered the large pile of notebooks detailing each of the routines he and his fellow aerialists had performed since they started with the studio. All the journals had been stored on their own shelf in the small room that was covered head to toe in All-Might merchandise. Honestly, he’d been a little weirded out at first but he soon came to learn that Izuku was just as dedicated to the art as he was. Even if Izuku had been at it two years longer than himself. 

“Do you want to go over the other routines?” inquired Izuku, snapping Denki out of  his small reminiscence. The green haired teen threw him a small towel with which to wipe himself down.

“Have we got the time?” Denki asked, catching the towel gratefully as he pressed it against his brow and down his neck.

“Yeah, it’s barely six. We could run through all the routines a few more times honestly. Just have to finish by seven so we can shower and get to class.”

Denki gave a sigh. “Why do we come to practice so early if we know it doesn’t take us the entire three hours?”

“Because we never know if we’re actually going to make it to or from practice. It’s probably the only downside to being in the hero class. Gotta love having that target painted on our back.” Izuku remarked, finishing his reasoning in a heavily sarcastic tone.

Ambushes and villain run-ins had happened several times over the last two and a half years. Most of which had been quickly handled, others which had prevented rehearsals from happening at all. Being provisional heroes, they were always stepping in and assisting where they were needed. 

“That’s fair, I just wish we could get a few more hours of sleep.” whined Denki

“Then stop staying up late, daydreaming about who you’re going to date next!” Izuku shot back, a chuckle escaping him.

It seemed like every other day Denki was mentioning a new crush on some cutie he’d seen. Come to think of it though, Denki hadn’t really brought the topic up recently. Leaving Izuku to ponder aloud, “Unless you are seeing someone and you just can’t keep your hands off them?”

“Whaaat, naw man. I’m not seeing anyone.” Denki covered his face in the towel, pretending to rub at his brow again. Deep red flushing across his cheeks. Just hopelessly pining away for the one person that likely hates me. Fuuuck.

Denki changed the subject, “That’s no fair Izuku. You can’t hold a personal life against me. Besides, it’s not my fault you aren’t interested in dating right now!”

“I didn’t say I wasn’t interested. I just don’t know how I’d balance that out. I mean, between classes at UA, and sneaking out of the dorms to get practice in with you, not to mention the constant villain interruptions. I’m swamped. Thankfully Hero Work Studies don't start until next month, otherwise I doubt we’d even be able to compete without worrying about being called in to fight off some villain.”

“Izuku…”Denki called, trying to interrupt the ongoing speech of his friend. Secretly pleased in the successful change of topic. “IZUKU!”

“Yeah?”

Denki gave Izuku a look that spoke volumes, and Izuku realized he’d gone on a small tangent again.

“Sorry”

“No worries. We are definitely two busy dudes, but we've gotta find down time too. Not healthy being crammed in a classroom or a gym all day. Even if we do enjoy it.” Denki gave a slight groan, “Ugh and graduation is in a few months too. Jeez Izuku now you’ve got me stressed out!”

Izuku gave Denki a guilty look and apologized again. “Sorry. Should we get back to practicing our routines before we have to pack up?”

Denki gave a nod and threw his towel over beside his bag, Izuku doing the same before heading over to the blue silks stationed at the center of the studio. Calling to his device again, Denki requested a different track from before, Izuku syncing the device to his ear piece. As the music began each of the teens grabbed a silk in hand, wrapping it around their right arm - giving themselves a running start in a counterclockwise circle. Denki reached for Izuku’s waist as they pulled themselves from the ground. Silks trailing behind them as they performed a series of skills. Bringing themselves closer together they rose higher into the air, sometimes holding onto the silks with no more than a single limb. 

After practicing the duo routines several times, they practiced their remaining solos before finishing up, grabbing their bags and hitting the showers.

“That was great!” Denki hooted excitedly, trying to catch his breath, his slight but muscular frame glistening with sweat. He clapped a hand on Izuku’s back as they dropped their bags by the lockers. Izuku stopped to remove his earpiece and the patch on his chest, tucking them both safely into his bag. 

“How are the devices working out? Are those the new ones you and Mei developed?” Denki asked bluntly. 

Izuku was often appreciative of the fact that Denki didn’t tiptoe around his hearing. “The prototypes, yeah. I’m hoping to hear from Mei before Saturday, so keep your fingers crossed!”

“You got it man. Fingers, toes, eyes - all crossed.” Denki chuckled, winking at Izuku who rolled his eyes in response. 

The two heroes in training left their bags and made their way back towards the showers. Izuku knew he’d worked up a good sweat, he could feel his hair matted to his forehead and the nape of his neck. Beads of sweat dripped into his eyes and down his spine, resting in the fabric of his waistband.

“As for practice,” Izuku began, circling back to their earlier conversation, “we’ve definitely improved. Our first time performing together was a disaster ! Remember?” Izuku chuckled as he stepped into his shower stall and stripped off his training gear - a calf-hugging pair of white pants and a simple pair of gray boxer briefs. Denki did the same - stripping off a pair of red boxer briefs and a matching pair of pants in black. 

“How could I forget? We were barely thirteen years old; it was our first time doing a duo performance. I’d only been doing aerial for a year and with the exception of the lean muscle we’d made through practice, there was barely any muscle between the two of us. I nearly broke your arm! Thank god we weren’t very far off the ground or we would have had a serious problem!”

A slight grimace crossed both of their faces as they remembered the incident. Instructor Vasha had been furious and her students had learned early on that making her mad was a poor decision for all parties.

“Thank god for that; like I need a longer history of broken bones.” Izuku shouted over the sound of the shower heads. Hands slowly working a bar of soap across his scarred muscular form, ridding it of the slick results of their hard work. 

“Hey Izuku, go easy on yourself. Your quirk is complicated. The fact that you haven’t broken more bones, or that you didn’t seriously injure yourself the first time you manifested your quirk is a blessing. Besides, it’s not like you shut down an entire city block when you sneeze.” Denki shouted back, rinsing the conditioner from his hair. Sure he’d improved exponentially, but one wrong power exertion and he knew how much of a problem he could cause.

“True, but don’t count yourself out either. You’ve improved over the last two and a half years. We both have. Besides, that only happened once.” Izuku stated as he stuck his head face first into the warm water, scrubbing the hair around his fringe and running his fingers over the short, stubbly hair on either side of his head. He pulled out the elastics that kept his hair bound in their braids and ran his fingers through each, detangling and washing them clean.

“Heh, thanks man.” Denki said, turning his shower off with a chuckle as he recalled the Christmas parties he had shut down last year because of his cold. Not his proudest moment, not his worst either. Shaking the memory, Denki grabbed his towel and wrapped it around his waist.

The shower Izuku was using was also turned off as the green haired teen stepped out of the stall, towel wrapped around his waist. His six-pack was apparent to anyone with a set of eyes and a well maintained treasure trail carved a path through his abs towards his groin. Scars of every size scattered amongst a smattering of freckles. A sleeve-like scar covering his right shoulder and running down the entirety of his bicep.

Denki realized he was staring. “Sorry.”

“No worries. It’s not like we’ve never seen one another naked. Between aerial and the school change rooms over the years we probably know one another's bodies better than we should. Besides, I have nothing to be ashamed about. Neither do you.” Izuku said, feigning self-confidence while eyeing the blonds chest. Several beauty marks danced around his shoulders. Denki’s hands were darker than the rest of his skin tone and lightning shaped lichtenberg scars trailed up his arms to his shoulders. Each scar was a testament to the hours of training and the hard fought battles Denki had faced.

“True.” Denki remarked with a wink, giving a small flex.

Izuku rolled his eyes at the blond and continued towards their bags. 

“So I believe you mentioned earlier that you were interested in dating someone.” Denki quipped, eyebrows wiggling seductively. 

“Not what I said,” Izuku’s tone was flat.

“Uh-huh. Got your eye on anyone at school.” 

“Maybe I do, maybe I don’t but I’m not answering that question Denki and you know it.” Izuku smirked before sticking out his tongue. Piercings catching the light.

“Oh come on! You never share the fun bits. Pleaaase!” The blond begged half heartedly, familiar with Izuku’s close to the vest attitude.

Izuku ignored him as he pulled on the various pieces of his school uniform. “If you don’t get dressed we’re going to be late.”

“Oooo change of topic. Wait, are you seeing someone right now?!?! You better not have gotten yourself a partner and told me nothing about it! Come on Izuku, I want DETAILS.” 

“All-Might help me! I am NOT seeing anyone!” Izuku fumed. “But,” Izuku continued cautiously, a small blush falling across freckled cheeks, “I MIGHT...have a...small crush on someone and regardless of how much you pester me I’m not saying a word about him! I already told you, my life is too damn busy as it is. Now get dressed!”

“Mmmm...him huh?” Denki knew how to push all the right buttons to get the gossip he wanted. Granted Izuku was always difficult to read and to pull information from, but Denki took what he could get. Izuku was beginning to regret having said anything at all.

Ignoring the blond Izuku grabbed the last of his discarded clothing and used towels and threw them in his gym bag. Heading to the closest mirror he ran a wide toothed comb through his long mossy locks, adjusting the strands so that everything fell over the right side of his head. Revealing a buzz cut on the left side, while covering up the hearing aid he wore on his right while he was participating in classes. A series of piercings adorned his upper left ear and on his off school days a long chain style earring generally adorned his lower lobes on both sides. Satisfied that he had pulled himself together on time, Izuku retrieved his hearing aid from the side pocket of his gym bag, sliding it into place on his right ear. He triple checked the mirror to make sure it wasn’t visible, double checked that his tie was done up properly and headed for the door shouting a five minute warning to the blond.

Denki, unlike Izuku, took longer to preen himself. The uniform was easy enough, but he had to make sure every hair on his pretty blond head was in the right spot. First towel drying it, then blow drying it, then styling it. Ridiculous. Unlike Izuku, Denki had a single eyebrow piercing over his left eye, and wore a long chain necklace. Jewelry was expensive when you had to make sure it wasn’t going to conduct electricity, so Denki had developed a healthy interest in tattoo’s instead. Beneath his uniform were detailed line work and bold colors that intermingled over his rib cage and down towards his hips. Taking one last look in the mirror, Denki applied a thin strip of eye liner beneath his golden orbs and blew his reflection a kiss. 

A good fifteen minutes after Izuku, Denki emerged from the change room, shoulder length hair perfectly quaffed into a low ponytail at the back of his head. His bangs with their signature black lightning bolt hanging loose in front, reaching down to his chin and framing his face. Without stopping to acknowledge that Izuku had waited for him, he strolled directly past, motioning to follow along as he tore open a melon bread and started to chow down. The two teens sent a quick wave and a passing farewell to the front end receptionist before leaving the studio.

Chapter Text

Thursdays. Thursdays meant that when the boys got to school they would be able to relax in the classroom for several minutes before homeroom. Thursdays started out with a lecture and course work and the sparring portion of the day wouldn’t take place until after lunch. Denki was particularly grateful for Thursdays, as nothing exhausted him more than two back-to-back workouts, he just didn’t have the same level of energy as Izuku. Regardless of the fact that his quirk centered around electricity, Denki doubted anyone had as much energy as Izuku Midoriya. 

Walking from the studio to the school had easily become the norm over the last several years. They’d grown accustomed to the company and it made the walk pass faster. It also simplified things if they ran into any villains along their various routes. 

Sneaking out of the dorms in the wee hours of the morning while trying to avoid the other early risers - something which hadn’t always gone according to plan - was another common occurrence for the two teens. More than once they had failed to escape their classmates' prying eyes and been subjected to a series of questions. The majority of the time their early morning excuse was that they wanted to get in more sparring practice, and then they would run off before giving their classmates any reason to question them further. Their classmates had tried tailing them in the past, but the two teens had memorized all the shortcuts and hiding places. Besides, Izuku wasn’t above lifting Denki up bridal style and jumping rooftop to rooftop or flying off if needed, they’d done that a handful of times already.

The two heroes in training weren’t ashamed of their aerial art abilities, it was simply a matter of wanting to keep it to themselves. A secret piece of quiet personal paradise. Izuku in particular was the center of enough attention and Denki was a close enough friend that he’d willingly decided to go along with it. He had known Izuku longer than most of their classmates - the one exception being Katsuki. Denki had even been the first person Izuku told about his hearing. 

Aerial was an integral part of their relationship and it went hand in hand with music, so when Izuku had started making mistakes and missing certain cues in the music Denki had pestered him until the green haired teen had been worn down. When he’d finally dragged the truth out of Izuku he’d had to watch his friend slip into a massive panic attack. Denki had always known Izuku was strong, that he played things close to the vest, but he had never once realized how much pain and fear his friend had been masking. While Denki respectfully kept Izuku’s secrets, the electric hero in training often wondered if he was just encouraging Izuku to self-sabotage. The two had found ways to manage everything of course, but it hadn’t been an easy adjustment for either of them. Like anything, the adjustments had taken time and patience.

Conversation shifting as they neared the school, the boys began to discuss their impending graduation while allowing themselves to fall into their regular ruse.  Something Izuku and Denki had seamlessly become accustomed to - calling each other by their last names when they were outside of the studio or a one on one setting. It was easy enough to do. Most of the class was friends with one another, but the two teens still tended to hang out in different social circles. They easily shifted into referring to one another as Kaminari and Midoriya and just as they rounded the final corner to the school, Kaminari shot out ahead and took off through the large arch towards the main doors leaving Midoriya behind as they had always done.

A simple means of ensuring that they never reached the classroom at the same time. Their classmates were already suspicious enough about the “extra sparring” and generally had an alarming number of questions for them when they arrived together. Some of their classmates - Jiro and Sero specifically - even suspected that the two of them were secretly dating. A thought that made Izuku chuckle as he doubted that Denki would be capable of keeping quiet about such things. Not that he should be so quick to judge; Denki had managed to keep their aerial arts training a secret for nearly three years. 

Of course, Kaminari and Midoriya, unbeknownst to their classmates, had dated briefly in their second year. Experimenting when they could find the time. Curious about one another's wants and needs. It hadn’t taken them more than a couple months to come to terms with the fact that they were not what the other was looking for in a partner. While they had a lot in common, they had different tastes in regards to...other aspects. Thankfully, the split had been mutual, which was good because it would have been awkward to remain an aerial duo if they hadn’t felt comfortable together. The other blessing was that their classmates were none the wiser for it, and were only beginning to form an inkling of a relationship almost fourteen months after the fact. 

While lost in his musings about the past, Midoriya arrived at the classroom door. He straightened out his uniform, checked that the laces were tied on his usual red sneakers, and subtly checked to make sure that he had put in his hearing aid. Amidst reaching towards his ear he was greeted by a terse, “Out of the way, damn nerd” from a rather disgruntled blond. 

Midoriya startled, snapping his hand back down beside his waist. Realizing it was Katsuki he gave a slight chuckle allowing an amused smirk to adorn his features. Over the last several months Midoriya had gained the confidence to banter with the haughty blond.

“Good morning Mr. Blasty Hands.” he countered, wiggling his fingers. “How is our walking train wreck doing this morning?” His voice turned semi-babyish at the end.

Katsuki rolled his eyes, facial features hardening into a displeased expression. He wasn’t particularly fond of the fact that Deku had begun to use those epithets to refer to his person. Third year students had reputations to maintain - god fucking forbid that a first year overhear the stupid nicknames. Katsuki had worked hard to build the reputation he had. Not the easiest achievement considering his temperament. 

The explosive teen had also tried extensively to rebuild his friendship with Deku. After eleven months and one long, traumatizing screaming match, he was pleased to say that they were improving. Being in the same class, training side by side, and facing life or death situations together had helped in some ways too, though there were certain moments even he prayed he would never have to live through again. They even had a standing arrangement to meet up every second Friday and talk things out, tomorrow being one of them. Of course, if that information was ever made public, he’d deny it.

“GOOD MORNING” Midoriya repeated loud and slow, drawing out each of the vowels. 

Katsuki grunted, attention snapping back to the present, “Morn’n. You gonna move or what?” His voice now unencumbered by its usual tone of frustration.

Midoriya gave a small smile and opened the door to step into the classroom, Katsuki not far behind him. 

“Good Morning Midoriya!” came a steady, firm voice. 

“Good Morning Iida, how are you this morning?”

“Quite well, thank you for asking.” Iida responded in his usual semi-robotic way before turning to great Katsuki in the same manner. 

Midoriya left the former class rep to his own devices. Making his way through the rows of desks, Midoriya flopped down in his seat, turning the chair sideways so that he could have a conversation with the individual at his back. Behind him sat a tall, quiet, purple haired individual. His head nestled in a combination of capture scarf and pale palms. Eyes slightly closed, exhaustion evident on his face he gave a monotone, “Morning Izuku.”

“Morning Hitoshi, did you have another long night of practice with Aizawa?” Izuku pondered aloud, knowing his friend’s exhaustion was usually due to one of two things: training with Aizawa or his insomnia.

“Not at all, just difficulty sleeping. Same as always. I couldn’t help but notice you were also up quite early this morning. Anything you’d like to share?”

“Nothing new. More training, same as always. You know me, I can't stop moving!” Izuku remarked, his facial expression nervous and his smile strained. He had always been a horrible liar and he doubted Hitoshi would say anything to his classmates, but Izuku was determined to tell no one.

“Indeed,” Hitoshi responded, disregarding the fact that Izuku had lied again. The green haired teen betrayed by his own features. If the man didn’t want to share, Hitoshi wasn’t going to pester him, but sometimes poking the bear was necessary. Today was a day of necessity and so Hitoshi continued to pester, “Five o’clock seems a tad early for sparring practice though.”

Izuku paused, his eyebrows furrowing in concern that his purple haired companion had been observing him so intensely. Especially considering Hitoshi hadn’t moved into the Class A dorms after successfully passing the exam - already living in the teacher dorms with Aizawa, Yamada and Eri. Izuku was so surprised that Hitoshi had been watching Denki and himself leave, his only response was an unintelligible “uuuhhh…”

Hitoshi lightly chuckled at the freckled teens' lack of response. “I hadn’t realized that my schedule was being so closely observed,” Izuku noted, a slight edge to his voice, having regained some small sum of composure. 

“It’s not , five o’clock is just early for most people,” Hitoshi responded, emphasizing the ‘not’. His eyes skirting to the side, attention quickly returning to Izuku. Mind exploring the possibilities about what the two teens got up to during their ‘extra sparring’.

“Oh?” I wonder if Hitoshi likes Denki. Izuku wondered, his chest clenching tightly.

A slight blush fell across Hitoshi’s cheeks. “What?”

Midoriya had followed the slight glance Hitoshi had made, eyes falling on the loud blond that sat in the corner talking to the rest of the Baku Squad. Grin plastered across his face as the others laughed. It wasn’t the first time Izuku had noticed, he’d caught Hitoshi watching the lightning bug before.

“Don’t worry about it,” Izuku whispered, “your little secret’s safe with me.”

Hitoshi stiffened a bit. “Secret?” he responded straight faced, “What secret?”

Questions falling unanswered as the movements and conversations in the classroom began to quiet. Hitoshi had no choice but to store the questions he wanted to ask Izuku in the back of his mind for later as he watched the class representative stand at attention. The rest of the students had already found their seats.

“Please rise,” Yaoyorozu stated loudly as Aizawa entered the classroom. Students standing at their desks, patiently waiting for their next set of instructions. “Bow.” Everyone bowed.

“Morning,” Mr. Aizawa responded glibly, “please be seated and we will begin.”

With that, the class sat back down in their seats and the day's lessons began. Time passed quickly as Aizawa reminded the students there would be special guest lecturers tomorrow. The same lecturers would be staying on at the school to help with a specialized training regiment for the two graduating hero classes. He chided those who had yet to hand in their required paperwork and reminded everyone to be on their best behavior. Several hours later the lunch bell rang and everyone was dismissed - a final message trailing behind them about afternoon training being in Training Room Beta. 

Hitoshi, Izuku and several others were still tidying their areas when Izuku felt a light tap on his shoulder. Turning in the direction of the physical contact, Izuku saw Hitoshi signing the gesture for food and motioning between the two of them. Izuku responded with a quick and eager, “‘ Yes, please. ’

Gathering their books they headed towards the door. Izuku glanced over at Denki before leaving the room. Catching his eyes while the blond chatted with his friends. For a split second Izuku could have sworn he saw Denki’s eyes shift over the figure that was walking behind him. 

Denki was still gathering his notebooks and cleaning up his desk while he chatted with Mina and Sero. Focusing on class had been difficult for Denki now that Midoriya had provided him with the smallest bit of personal information. The majority of the class Denki had been looking around the room at all their male classmates trying to figure out if one of them was Midoriya’s crush. Every person he looked at came with any number of pros and cons. He’d watched each of them, studying their movements to see if they were sneaking glances at the freckled teen. Denki even looked Shinso over as he and Midoriya left the classroom. It was getting to the point where Denki was beginning to wonder if the student was even in 3A. Maybe, much like himself, Izuku’s crush was a student from another class, but judging from the way Shinso was standing behind Izuku, Denki doubted that was the situation.

Izuku brushed off Denki’s once over of Hitoshi as nothing of concern and as he stood there temporarily lost in thought the violet eyed teen pushed at his shoulder, informing him that he had stopped walking. Izuku quickly resumed the motions and headed out the door towards the cafeteria, curious to see what delicious food Lunch Rush had whipped together for the day.

When they arrived at the cafeteria Izuku was delighted to discover that today’s lunch was Katsudon. While nothing compared to his mothers - Katsuki’s taking a close second - it was still Izuku’s favorite thing to eat. The day could not possibly get better: a great routine rehearsal, morning lecture had flown by, sparring practice was taking place later and now his favorite meal. The perfection of the day made Izuku a little apprehensive, but he was still excited. 

Hitoshi nudged Izuku, who had taken the seat across from him. The two had found an area against one of the far walls, away from windows and high amounts of foot traffic in an attempt for privacy. A grin was plastered on Izuku’s freckled face, spread wide from ear to ear, pulling at the vertical scar that ran across his upper and lower left lip. Getting the green haired teens' attention Hitoshi resumed signing. 

“ You good ?” He asked, a single eyebrow raised skeptically.

Izuku signed a quick, “ Yes, ” gesturing in an up and down motion with a closed fist. “ Just lots of positives today. ”

“Cool. ” Hitoshi hesitated before continuing to sign. “ Can I ask you something? ” 

“ Always, what’s up? ” Izuku replied before stuffing some food into his mouth. 

“ Earlier in class...before Shouta came in... ”

Izuku nodded again, used to Hitoshi’s familiarity with their teacher. He could tell that the purple haired teen sitting across from him was nervous about even having the pending conversation. It was times like this that Izuku was grateful they could both sign. Hitoshi usually got quiet, hiding his face in his capture scarf when he was nervous, which tended to make following the conversation difficult for Izuku.

Izuku maintained eye contact with Hitoshi as he ate, waiting for the teen to continue. When he didn’t Izuku prodded him a bit. 

“ Is this...about the extra sparring again? ” he asked, eyebrows drawing together in annoyance.

Hitoshi groaned, a small nervous blush spreading across his cheeks. He hid his face in one hand while begrudgingly signing, “ Somewhat ” with the other.

Izuku gave him a minute knowing that Hitoshi wouldn’t be able to see him sign his response. As he waited he soaked in the small blush on Hitoshi’s cheeks. Too adorable to describe and a look he wanted all for himself. Quit it Izuku. Izuku found himself growing just the tiniest bit jealous about the possibility that this conversation was about the lightning bug. Unaware that Hitoshi was hiding his face in his scarf because he didn’t want to give himself away staring into Izuku’s eyes. 

It probably would have been okay to resume the conversation with Hitoshi verbally, but even after being friends for the better part of a year, Izuku knew that Hitoshi disliked talking aloud outside of the classroom. The main reason Hitoshi preferred to sign, as he had disclosed to Izuku some time ago, was because of the treatment he had received from his peers in the past. People who hadn’t bothered taking the time to learn about Hitoshi or his quirk. A quirk which was harmless unless Hitoshi consciously made the decision to target someone specifically. People, even other heroes, feared the sound of his voice. Izuku didn't understand how someone could hate such a smooth voice, one which he personally found to be calming.

Tapping the violet eyed teen’s arm to get his attention, Izuku gestured, “ What do you want to know? ”

Hitoshi hesitated, eyes boring holes into his partially eaten meal. Izuku nudged his knee with one of his own, prodding him to continue.

“ Are you...dating Kaminari. ” And there it was, the awkward question. The question that could easily shift Izuku’s dynamic with his two best friends. Izuku’s heart sank into the pit of his stomach as he tried to hide the pain that flashed across his features.

Izuku tried his best not to, but he gave an annoyed sigh as he responded with his hands. “ No, we’re not dating. ”

“ You’re not? ” Hitoshi’s face expressed both surprise and relief. The brief flash of pain that had crossed Izuku’s face had not gone unnoticed either.

Izuku gave a crooked smile. “ Yeah! Trust me. People keep asking, but the answer’s still no. ”

Hitoshi paused, relief flooding over him. Izuku and Kaminari were not dating one another. Alternatively, he now had a growing suspicion that his crush was getting the wrong idea about the questions he was asking, but Hitoshi was willing to let that slide for now. Working up the courage to fight through his insecurities and ask Izuku the question he’d really been wanting to ask him for months was going to take him a bit more time. Hitoshi furrowed his eyebrows and gestured to Izuku, asking the emerald eyed teen in a less than subtle change of topic, where he kept disappearing off to with Kaminari.

Izuku choked on his Katsudon, forcing the rest down with a few gulps of water. “ It’s nothing. Specialized training. I told you that earlier. ” 

Hitoshi knew that Izuku was still keeping some kind of secret. In the year and a half that they had gotten to know each other he had yet to determine what it was - the excuses had ranged from poor to poorer. More often than not falling back on the “specialized training” or “extra sparring” excuses. Of course he valued his friendship with Izuku too much to push the issue, so for the second time that day, he decided to let it slide. Something he hoped Izuku was well aware of, and for which he hoped the green haired menace was grateful.

Izuku tapped Hitoshi’s arm again, bringing his focus back to their conversation.

“ He’s single, ” Izuku signed, not making eye contact with the teen across from him, as he knew was proper etiquette. When he did look up, it didn’t escape Izuku’s attention that Hitoshi was blushing again, trying rather pathetically to hide it in his scarf. Instant regret flooding his system. He shouldn’t have said anything. Stupid!  

Hitoshi groaned. He hated that he was giving Izuku the wrong idea but he still took solace in knowing his intent hadn’t been discovered. What he really wanted to ask the emerald eyed beauty was if he was seeing anyone. Hell, he didn’t even know if Izuku was into girls or guys. They’d never really talked about those sorts of personal details. Usually when they were hanging out they talked about their hero work studies or one of their various hobbies or they sat in the common room watching movies with the rest of 3A. On occasion Hitoshi would bring Eri so that she could visit her ‘other big brother’ and Izuku was so good with her that it made his heart hurt in a way he couldn’t  describe. Hitoshi could feel the blush deepen in his cheeks and travel to the tips of his ears - regretting having cut his hair short.

Izuku looked at Hitoshi again, spotting the deep crimson flush on his cheeks and the tips of his ears; begging the gods to leave it there long enough that he could memorize every detail. When he realized he’d been staring at Hitoshi too long he fought to keep a blush from his own cheeks, and made the motion of pulling a zipper closed across his lips. Placing the imaginary key on the table in front of his friend. Hitoshi followed suit, pretending to pick up the key and put it in his blazer pocket. The conversation ended there but Hitohsi’s internal monologue was running rampant, wishing he could use this invisible key to unlock his own lips and speak his truth.

As the boys finished up their lunches a few of their classmates wandered over and joined them at their table. The flow of the conversation quickly changed as they spoke with each other. Hitoshi’s signing being translated by Izuku as needed. The others were used to the muddled combination of speech and sign that often occurred in their conversations. Tsu and Uraraka knew a few basic phrases and Iida had been determined to take lessons just to make Hitoshi feel more included. Tokoyami and Sato knew how to finger spell which was a start. They were trying though and that’s what Hitoshi appreciated - not so much for his sake, but for Izukus’. 

Hitoshi’s mind wandered away from the current conversation and back to the first time he had tried to sign after arriving in the 2A classroom; he’d avoided it entirely with the general studies students. No one except Izuku had known what he was trying to do, which had been an embarrassing experience. He had assumed with the number of voice quirks in existence, that there would have been at least a few students or teachers that would know sign language. 

Shouta knew sign language - mostly from working alongside various heroes and from the rare emergency situation where Present Mic’s vocal regulator had been broken in combat. Hitohsi recalled being somewhat surprised about that when he’d discovered them signing in the staff room beside a sleeping Eri. Whether he had been surprised about the sign language or the fact that Yamada actually knew how to be quiet was the bigger mystery. 

Izuku had been the biggest surprise though,  and for the longest time Hitoshi hadn’t asked why he knew sign language. It was information that Izuku didn’t offer freely. After several months of asking, Izuku had come in one morning with a look of determination on his face. He had looked Hitoshi dead in the eyes, motioned the sign for ‘hard of hearing’, and sat down facing the front of the classroom. It had caught Hitohsi off guard and he’d had to ask Izuku to repeat himself. When Hitoshi had tried to gather more information Izuku had brushed it off and dodged the rest of his questions. There were more questions than answers after that, and he still didn’t have all the details. He wasn’t entirely sure if the others in class knew either. They’d made fast friends though and hung out at every available opportunity. 

The sudden loud echo of the school bell caused Hitoshi to jump, snapping him out of his reminiscence. Eyes around the table stared at him, his response nothing but a blank stare.

“You good?” asked Uraraka.

He nodded, “Just lost in thought. We should get going though, we still need to change.”

Izuku quickly translated and everyone around the table nodded in agreement as they cleared away their trays and left, heading towards the gymnasium.

When everyone arrived at the gym, they were quick to change and meet in Training Room Beta. Hitohsi and Izuku were still carrying on a small conversation about nothing in particular. Aizawa arrived in his usual tired fashion and paired them off to practice sparring. Much to his disappointment Hitoshi was not paired with Izuku. Instead, being paired with the unwitting root of his personal problem. 

Kaminari strolled over to join Shinso on the sparring mat, watching as Izuku was paired off with Bakugo; sending up a silent prayer that the two didn’t get reckless before the competition. 

“Ready to get started?” Kaminari queried cheerfully. 

Shinso nodded, raising his hands to guard his face, slowly encircling the mat. Kaminari bouncing around like a boxer, hands raised to protect his own face, feet in constant motion. An attempt to reach towards Kaminari’s uniform was made but the blond quickly stepped back, fabric slipping through Shinso’s fingers. When he was out of reach Kaminari brought his left leg up in an attempt to make contact with Shinso’s stomach. A miss. Barely.

Slowly circling the mat, Kaminari made the first move. He was quicker this time, lashing out with a right hook, then a left. Raising his right knee and kicking out, he made contact with Shinso’s ribs. The dreary teen grasped Kaminari’s leg, pulling him off balance. Reaching for the fabric of his uniform again, trying to find leverage. Succeeding he gripped the cloth near the blond’s shoulder, bringing him to the floor in a solid toss. 

Kaminari let out a gasp, a deep groan following as his lungs slowly tried to remember how to breathe. Perhaps he should worry less about Izuku being injured before a competition and focus more on himself. When he got his breath back he opened his eyes to find a concerned Shinso standing over him. “You okay Sparky?

“I’m good, just surprised you can throw so hard. You're secretly ripped under there, huh?” Kaminari chuckled. 

Rolling his eyes, Shinso extended a hand to his winded classmate, who was still sprawled out across the mats. Kaminari grinned, happily accepting the assist, watching as his classmate lifted him with ease.

“And I’m obviously not as strong as I thought I was or your entire frame is made of muscle. You’re heavy for a skinny guy. Must be all that specialized training you and Izuku do.” 

Kaminari smothered a small laugh, “Maybe it is, maybe it isn’t,” he teased, making a mental note that Shinso was on a first name basis with Izuku, “I’m not sharing details.” The look on the blond’s face blank, leaving no clues for Shinso to decipher. 

Shaking his head Shinso resumed his fighting stance, Kaminari joining not long after, resuming their sparring practice.

Izuku gave a chuckle, watching the sparring match between his friends while carefully observing the movements of his own opponent.

“What’s so funny, nerd? You should be keeping your eyes on me!” The explosive blond shouted. 

Izuku dodged, avoiding Katsuki’s usual first punch from the right. Small explosions popping from the ends of his ungloved fingers. Today’s matches were supposed to be quirk free, a pure focus on hand to hand combat. The faint sound of popping caused a tightening feeling in Izuku’s stomach. There was no more damage that could be caused to his left ear, yet his body still responded to the potential for pain. 

“I am paying attention Kacchan, you’re just predictable,” Izuku shot back, knowing it would only frustrate and infuriate his sparring partner more. “We’re supposed to be fighting quirk free too Kacchan, or can you not take me on in a fair fight?”

Izuku knew that the angrier Katsuki was the better he fought. A sad truth, but a truth nonetheless. It was a flaw that Izuku pointed out frequently after matches or during their Friday conversations. The angry blond usually rebuffed the statements or changed the subject. Some things hadn’t changed and Katsuki wanting to be the best with as little help as possible was still one of those unyielding constants. 

Katsuki growled at the green haired bastard before him. The first year of school Deku’s abilities had been a joke. Constantly breaking bones and wearing down joints, but two and a half years into hero training had paid off and Katsuki found himself facing off against a worthy rival. Deku’s appearance had changed a lot since middle school too. No longer did he look like the simpering weakling that Katsuki had constantly targeted as a source of his personal aggression. Now the scarred, emerald eyed hero in training was just over six feet tall, slightly shorter than Katsuki. The nerd’s frame was still slender but every inch of him was covered in a thick layer of well toned muscle. As much as Katsuki hated to admit it to himself, Deku could probably bench press twice what he could - no quirks involved. The thought pissed him off.

Katsuki swung his left arm, then his right. When his punches failed to make contact he tried to strike the green haired bastard with his legs. “Damn Deku,” he grunted, swinging his fists again.

“We talked about that word Kacchan,” Izuku chided. Each of the strikes that Katsuki attempted to land, Izuku stepped from the left to the right, twisting and turning with finite control over each muscle in his body. One of the few skills that transferred over from aerial silks training had been the practical application of muscle movement. Izuku knew exactly which muscles to tighten and loosen to get his body to move around the mat the way he wanted. 

Izuku continued to dodge the strikes, waiting for the perfect opening. There! Izuku struck, wrapping his arms under his opponent's shoulders and hoisting him off the ground. Bending backwards until the blond’s head struck the mats beneath them. Katsuki growled as Izuku released him and righted himself. 

“Again!!”

“Sure thing Kacchan, we can go toe to toe as much as you like.”

The sparring matches continued through the afternoon. Two hours of intense one on one matchups, partners being swapped every ten minutes to keep the students on their toes. When the class drew to a close, almost everyone hit the showers before heading home. 

Izuku waited outside the gymnasium doors for Hitoshi while he thought about the upcoming competition. Mentally reviewing each of his moves Izuku got lost in thought, mindlessly moving and twisting his body as he visualized each skill. 

“What are you doing?” Hitoshi asked, eyebrows drawn together in curiosity.

Izuku startled, “Nothing, just some stretches. Always good to stretch after a workout!” His voice cracking as his panic stricken face attempted to avoid making eye contact. 

Hitoshi just shook his head from side to side, watching as the teen tried to regain whatever composure he could muster. Quickly regathering his thoughts Izuku grabbed his bag from the lawn and followed after Hitoshi. It was a quiet walk back, the air peppered with an awkward silence. Internal monologues filled with embarrassed groans. It took a few minutes, but before the arches to the dorms came into view Hitoshi tapped Izuku on the shoulder. 

“Want to come over this weekend? Watch a movie? ” His heart was beating a steady pace in his chest.

“Can’t. Family weekend. Sorry.” Izuku dropped his signing hand from his chest. Guilt flooded through his system as he lied to his friend again.

Hitoshi shrugged, signing a simple, “ Okay .”

As they approached the archway that led towards the dorm grounds the two signed a quick goodbye and parted ways. Hitoshi heading towards Aizawa’s apartment in the Teacher’s Quarters; Izuku heading towards his room in the Alliance Dormitory.

Arriving at the dorm, Izuku headed up to his room on the fifth floor. He had some studying to do and while he appreciated that the majority of the class liked to study as a group, he found he functioned better on his own, without trying to keep up with nineteen other conversations. Turning the corner to the stairs, Izuku darted up to the fifth floor, took a right and walked to the room at the end of the hall. Throwing his bags towards his desk and locking the door behind him, Izuku gave a deep groan before flopping backwards onto his bed. Stretches?! What the hell were you thinking you idiot. He thought to himself, upset that he had been seen. By Hitoshi no less. Careless!

Looking around his room in an effort to distract himself, Izuku took in how much had changed. The teen had packed away most of his All-Might merchandise leading to a slightly more mature look for the space. He still had several collectible pieces scattered about - his autograph on the wall, a picture of the two of them, a statue or two on his bookshelves. The other items were packed up and stored in the bottom of his closet, where he could easily switch them out for one another if he felt like a change. It had been difficult to keep the man’s face plastered across every inch of his room after his death last year, so this had been his compromise.

Eyes settled on the back of his bedroom door where a simple black hoodie was hanging. Shinso had left it there some time ago and he had yet to return the article to its owner. Izuku let his mind wander for a moment, closing his eyes as he thought about the day. Each event played over in his head: rehearsal, class, lunch with Hitoshi, the blush on Hitoshi’s cheeks. God that had been adorable. The way the pink crept across the pale creamy skin of his classmate. He wondered what Hitoshi had been thinking about to give his cheeks such incredible color.

If that was the pink of his cheeks, Izuku wondered what else could turn pink. Perhaps the crook of Hitoshi’s neck, always hidden beneath that scarf. The thought of trailing small kisses across his jawline, down his neck, following the flow of his collarbones. Small pecks on his shoulders, stopping to leave marks - pink or maybe a deep purple. Darker than his eyes. Izuku imagined his touch, the feel of Hitoshi’s calloused fingers on his own skin as his hands roamed Izuku’s body. Izuku could feel the tightening bulge in his pants, the build of tension in his stomach.

Running a firm hand over the outside of his trousers, he moaned slightly startling himself. Bad idea. Feeling the pressure he applied to himself through the fabric, he pushed with his hips trying to gain more friction, feeling the first drops of pre-cum leave a wet mark on the inside of his boxers. Forcing his eyes to stay shut, Izuku attempted to keep his mind focused on his imagined perception of Hitoshi.

First Izuku thought of Hitoshi’s chest, at which he was constantly sneaking peaks in the change room. Then he thought about the feel of his tattooed musculature beneath his fingertips and the shivers Izuku could incite breathing next to Hitoshi’s ear. The tight sinew of muscle that wrapped around his hips and down his v-line. 

Popping the clasp of his uniform pants, Izuku slipped his hand past the elastic of his boxer briefs. The garment pushed down past his well toned ass and around his thighs as Izuku shifted himself until his erection was free of the fabric constraint. Grasping at the base he squeezed roughly before moving his hand slowly up the sensitive skin; running his fingers over the head of his cock, smearing the liquid secretions around the entirety of his swollen erection. As his fingers fumbled over warm skin, he bucked his hips into his hand. 

Izuku’s thoughts wandered to images of Hitoshi’s back. The tightness of his shoulders, the build of muscle along his spine. The trails of kisses he would leave in his wake and the way Hitoshi’s back would arch as his ass was presented for Izuku to take. His toes curled at the thought, grip tightening around the head of his shaft as he rocked his hips into his hand.

Imagining the tight feeling of Hitoshi’s ass, he squeezed again, increasing his pace. Pushing his heels into the foot of the bed Izuku bucked into his hand harder. He envisioned the feel of being sleeved in Hitoshi, chest pressed to his back; he pumped again - losing himself in his imagination. His ministrations increased, harder, faster, a moan escaping his lips as he imagined the sultry voice of the man beneath him calling his name,  Izuku . The final thought pushed him over the edge, with several strong strokes and a final buck of his hips Izuku let loose a moan as the tightness that had built in his stomach released and he came in floods over his fingers. 

Izuku took a moment to catch his breath before reaching for the box of tissues he kept close for such impromptu occasions, cleaning himself up the best he could. Groaning when he realized where he had let his mind escape. He hadn’t realized how possessive he was becoming of the violet eyed teen. Usually his form of escapism revolved around the reversal of roles. Izuku’s ass on display and Hitoshi eager to fuck him. Izuku was in over his head and he knew it too. 

On top of things he had made a mess of his uniform jacket, which he shed and threw into the laundry basket. Proceeding to the bathroom, Izuku’s mind plagued him with negative thoughts. I have to stop doing this. Hitoshi doesn’t view me romantically. He’ll never see me like that; we’re just friends. This has to stop, it needs to stop. I’m being disgusting. Izuku turned on the shower, got in and rested his head against his outstretched arms as he leaned into the liquid warmth. Besides, he thought, no one wants someone as broken as I am anyways. I have to stop letting my mind run away from me. A small sob escaped as he tried his hardest to stop thinking of the violet eyed phantasm that plagued his mind.

Having somewhat calmed down during the shower, Izuku toweled himself off and threw on a pair of pajamas. Making a quick trip downstairs he threw in a load of laundry, grabbed a plate of food from the kitchen and returned to his room. He placed his dinner on his desk, dug through his bag, grabbed his textbooks and set to work on the last of his assignments for the week. There was no time to waste. Tomorrow being Friday, Izuku knew his evening would be filled by his usual meeting with Katsuki and the weekend would be filled because of the competition. There was no time to think about anything except school. With that decided, he removed his hearing aid to block out the excess white noise and set to work. 

Chapter Text

Light shone through the nearby window, streaks of warmth streaming across Izuku’s face as he slept atop his collection of journals. Alarm vibrating against the surface of his desk, Izuku scrunched his face in displeasure and groaned at the stiffness in his neck. Yet again he had fallen asleep at his desk, spending one too many hours grinding over the details of his assignments, followed by a thorough step by step review of all six of his routines for the upcoming competition. Izuku picked up his cell phone and looked at the time - seven o’clock. 

Noticing a text from Mei, Izuku went into his messages.

~ Lady Wizard ~

R U up?! 

UR prbly not up...it’s 3! 

My babies r finished!

U can pick them up 2day! 

Whenever UR ready! 

The texts continued on, but Izuku got the gist. If anything he was grateful that Mei had been able to create what he needed - not that he should have ever doubted her. The woman was a genius.

I’ll stop by sometime around lunch today.

Get some sleep. Something tells me, you need sleep.

A genius never sleeps! I have too many ideas. To many babies to create!

C u @ lunch.

Izuku rolled his eyes. Even if he kept texting her he knew she wouldn’t sleep until she was physically forced too. Just one of the many things that made Mei, Mei. 

Recalling his actions last night Izuku let another groan escape, resting his forehead against the cool surface of his desk. After his private escapades he always found it difficult to look Hitoshi in the eyes. He knew his face was a dead give away; he wasn’t ignorant to the fact that Hitoshi and the others let things slide when they could tell their questions were making him uncomfortable. His friends weren’t above teasing him either.

Stretching at his bedroom desk, Izuku threw his head back and sent up a small prayer to All-Might. Please, please let this day pass quickly.  

No such luck.

Hitoshi awoke in a tangle of sheets. For the first time in several weeks he had somehow managed to secure a healthy eight hours of semi-solid slumber. A rarity considering the thoughts that were constantly racing through his head, and the irregularities to his sleep pattern that were caused by his insomnia. The dreams had been a pleasant change of pace, especially if the mess in his boxers were any indication. Now if he could remember more of the dream than just the flashes of emerald eyes and scarred lips maybe his morning could get off to an even better start. 

Stretching, Hitoshi got out of bed and walked to the washroom where he stripped and showered. He had just begun to close his eyes and let his mind wander back to the memory of forest green curls when a metallic clicking came from the door, followed by a few loud bangs. 

“Hitoshi! Unlock the door, I need the washroom!” Yamada shouted. 

“I’m in the shower. What’s wrong with your bathroom!”

“My husband"" Yamada spit with dramatic venom, "decided this morning was a hair day. It’s occupied.”

“I’ll be done in a couple minutes, go away.” Hitoshi groaned. So much for that ‘better start’ but that’s what he got for living in a house full of people, though he doubted the dorms were any better. Shutting off the water, Hitoshi toweled down, grabbed his dirty clothes and headed for his room. 

“All yours Pops.” Hitoshi called down the hall. He didn’t have to call twice, Yamada bolted down the hallway slamming the door behind him.

“Breakfast is on the table. Be out soooooon,” his voice trailing from behind the door. 

Rolling his eyes, Hitoshi closed his bedroom door behind him and got ready for school. Please let something interesting happen today. Anything but villains and awkward conversation. Just this once. He prayed quietly.

His prayer did not fall on deaf ears. 

Once Hitoshi was dressed and he had everything packed, he headed for the kitchen. As usual Yamada had over done breakfast and made enough food for a dozen people. On the kitchen island there sat eggs, toast, waffles, English muffins and more. Not to mention the one, two..five different beverages. Who does he think eats this much food?

Grabbing a travel mug with one hand, and a coffee pod with the other, Hitoshi set to work making his usual morning beverage - black, dark roast coffee. Even the smell was enough to get him going in the morning. As the coffee tended itself he grabbed a plate, filling it with food and set it down at his usual seat at the table. After doubling back to grab his coffee, Hitoshi sat down and began to eat.

Shouta rounded the corner, toweling his hair dry as he walked towards the coffee machine to make his own cup. Turning and leaning against the counter he looked towards Hitoshi.

“Morning”

“Morning. Heard it’s a hair day?”

“Spur of the moment decision. Woke up with a bit of extra energy, thought I’d treat myself.”

“Suuure.” Hitoshi chuckled, “Definitely not revenge against Pops for last week. Right Dad?”

Shouta’s mouth curled at the corner ever so slightly. “Not at all,” he quipped, recalling that Yamada had pulled the same stunt last week making Shouta late for a parent meeting at the school. 

“Any luck with the problem child?”

Hitoshi closed his eyes and groaned into his coffee. Shouta, the master napper, knew exactly how to get to the point. Why Hitoshi had told Shouta anything about his crush baffled him, and yet he was glad he could talk about it with someone.

“I’ll take that as a resounding no.” Shouta said, looking across the island. “Tell you what, how about you join me this weekend. Principal Nezu’s got me doing a protective detail and I wouldn’t mind the company. Take your mind off the boy. Nothing major, but it should be interesting. Good experience.”

The offer piqued Hitoshi’s interest. “Uh...yeah, sure. I don’t have any other plans. Izuku’s got a family thing this weekend.”

Shouta chuckled, “Oh?”  

Hitoshi tilted his head, eyebrows drawing together at his dad's remark. The idea that Izuku was spending time with family shouldn't have elicited such an unexpected response. Though the more Hitoshi thought on it, the only family Izuku ever mentioned was his mother.

Without elaborating, the dark haired hero pushed himself away from the counter, grabbed his cup of coffee and headed back to his bedroom to prepare for work. Shouta knew exactly what he was doing, well aware of the odd standstill happening between his son and Izuku. As 3A’s homeroom teacher he was also beginning to notice the number of secrets Izuku was keeping from his friends. While everyone was entitled to their secrets, there was such a thing as keeping too many and since the death of the problem child's mentor he had receded into himself in ways Shouta had not previously thought possible. Of course, Shouta couldn’t just corner the green haired child and demand he spill his secrets to him or his peers. What he could do was orchestrate events in a way that would encourage these things to happen naturally. Principal Nezu had given him the perfect means to help move things along. Hell, Principal Nezu probably knows exactly what he’s doing. Damn mouse.

Hitoshi had just finished eating his breakfast when he heard the click of the bathroom door opening down the hall. Yamada’s done, time to wake up the gremlin. With that thought in mind Hitoshi put his dishes in the sink and walked down the hall to Eri’s room, opening the door slowly so as not to startle her. 

“Eri, time to wake up.”

“Nooooo,” a quiet voice droned into a pillow. “F.ve..m.r...m.n.ts”

“Can’t do five more minutes, it’s already ten minutes later than normal.”

Eri shot up in bed. “What?! Why didn’t you wake me on time!”

“Don’t blame me, Pops was using our washroom. Now get up or we’re all going to be late.”

“Fiiine.” Eri resisted the urge to flop back into her pillows, instead getting up and grabbing what she needed as Hitoshi left her room. She scurried to the washroom and did everything one would expect of a typical nine year old: face, teeth...hair. She was going to need help with that last one. Quickly dressing in her outfit, a simple long sleeve blouse with a navy blue dress pulled over the top, Eri headed to the kitchen in search of her big brother. 

“Hitoshi?” She called.

“Yeah?” His response resounded from the living room. 

She wandered over with a comb and hair ties in hand. “Can you do my hair...please.” A wide set grin spread across her face.

Hitoshi chuckled, “Sure, just grab some breakfast first and then tell me what you want done?”

Eri darted over to the couch, dropping her supplies in Hitoshi's lap before running back to the kitchen to grab a small plate of food. When she returned, peeking around the entrance to look at her big brother, he motioned with his hand to come sit in front of the couch. 

"What are we doing today?" He pondered aloud, having adjusted to the daily routine of styling Eri's routine. It had become calming and familiar to the teen.

“Mmmm,” she thought for a moment, “Two French braids? Please.”

Nodding, Hitoshi set to work slowly plaiting the hair. “What are you doing today?”

“Papa is taking me to the grocery store because his classes don’t start until after lunch! Then I get to hang out at the school with Ms. Midnight, learning lessons until you and Daddy are done.” 

As he continued to braid her hair he hummed his responses. Eri kept talking as he worked, filling the empty space with the sound of her excitement and anticipation. She spoke about all the different subjects Ms. Midnight was teaching her and about what she was learning about her quirk. Tapping her shoulder with the comb, Hitoshi signaled he was finished. Trailing her hands gently over her hair to feel the braids, Eri giggled excitedly and turned to give Hitoshi a hug. 

“Thank you!”

Yamada walked around the corner, smiling at the two. “Let’s get this show on the road my little love bug!” 

Releasing Hitoshi, Eri ran to her papa and prepared to leave. 

“Stay safe,” Shouta called from the kitchen, having returned at some point during the morning.

“You too babe,” Yamada called before closing the door behind him.

“We should also be going,” Hitoshi said as he walked into the kitchen, holding the small plate Eri had left behind.

Shouta nodded at the violet eyed teen, rising from the table to tidy the kitchen before they headed to the school.

At eight o’clock everyone bowed, took their seats, and allowed the day's lessons to begin. Izuku was frustrated. Every time he looked at the clock the time seemed to be moving backwards. The lesson was boring and Izuku wanted nothing more than for the lunch bell to ring so he could go see Mei in her lab. When Aizawa stood at the front and introduced their guest lecturers Izuku nearly had a panic attack.

“For today’s final lesson, I would like to welcome our guest lecturers and future coordinators of your upcoming specialized training, Mr. and Mrs. Hashima." He motioned towards the two individuals standing beside them. A large yawn resounded as Aizawa walked away from the teaching podium and returned to his nap nook in the corner of the room. Izuku was doing everything in his power not to self-regulate before the black at the edge of his vision could creep any further; rubbing the palms of his hands against the top of his legs.  He wanted to scream at the people standing at the front of the class.

The man, Mr. Hashima stood about six feet four inches tall. He was slender with a muscular build. Bright orange hair was cropped close to his caramel skin and forest green eyes looked out over the sea of curious students. He was dressed in a simple white tank top and a pair of plain denim jeans - the cut of which sat perfectly against a well toned ass. Beside the man stood Mrs. Hashima, who based on the introduction and the matching silver wedding band wrapped around his finger, could only be the wife of Mr. Hashima. 

She was the stark opposite of her husband, standing only five feet three inches. She too was of a slim build, with an average chest and thick toned thighs. Her waist length hair was parted off to the right side, the left side buzzed short, a unique shade of aquamarine mixed with patches of white, braided down her back. Her eyes were a stoic silver in contrast. The clothing that adorned her figure was simple and similar to that of her husbands: a simple white tank top and a pair of black joggers. Protruding from the back of her joggers was a slender four foot tail - a small sleek tuft of the same aquamarine hair at the end. Mr. and Mrs. Hashima wore two other articles of clothing: simple black sneakers, and matching white track jackets with black detailing and blue lettering that read Simple Silks Aerial Company .

Izuku had managed to calm himself down enough to focus on their introductions. His breathing was still somewhat unsteady as his eyes darted between the guest lecturers.

“Hello Class 3A! Thank you so much for having us.” Her voice was loud and attention drawing, “This is my husband Ryukin Hashima and my name is Vasha Hashima. Feel free to use our first names. We own and operate a local studio called Simple Silks Aerial Company where we train people in aerial arts and acrobatics. I’ve been performing with silks since I was eight, my husband specializes in hoops and has trained since he was twelve. Between the two of us we have over fifty years of experience. Please don’t think too hard about that. We’ll have owned the Simple Silks Aerial Company & Studio for nearly sixteen years this summer.” Vasha concluded. 

“Before we delve into any further details or explain what we will be working on with you for the next several weeks, were there any questions?” Ryukin chimed from his spot at the front. Voice deep and smooth.

Hands all around the classroom shot up to ask questions of the new arrivals. Izuku was still trying to hold it together. His fucking instructors were standing in front of his entire class. Desperately Izuku tried to assess the situation without retriggering the start of a panic attack, slowly taking in deep breaths one after another, palms continuing to rub against the tops of his thighs. His eyes continued shifting between the husband and wife duo, this time in an attempt to capture their attention. When he finally caught Ryukin’s eye, he was already walking over to Izuku’s desk. Why is he coming over here!?!  He’s going to draw their attention to me. He froze, hands unmoving, shoulders stiff.

Izuku was greeted calmly and unfamiliarly. “Young man, is everything alright?” Ryukin asked, a single eyebrow arched in concern. 

Young man. Young man...okay so then they must know. Oh god...please say nothing please say nothing.

“Fine sir. Thank you.” Izuku’s smile was tight and controlled. A fragile mask engulfing a collection of internal screams. 

Ryukin nodded, “Have you got a question for me or my wife?” 

Izuku hesitated, trying to form a question that sounded like something he would normally ask. Think, think god damnit!  

“Will we be doing the training Aizawa sensei mentioned here at the school or will we be visiting your studio. Sir.” Izuku was careful to tac on the ending. Just because he was trying to disappear into his chair didn’t mean he was going to risk being rude.

“An excellent question!” Ryukin stated, hand thumping against Izuku’s desk. “All training will be completed here at the school. There are several reasons for this of course. The first being that we are unfamiliar with your quirks and would prefer not to cause damage to the studio. Second, your principal has agreed to modify two of the training gyms to fit our purposes wonderfully!”

Pleased with his response and the looks on the students’ faces, Ryukin returned to stand at the front of the room. As students tracked the lecturer with their eyes, Izuku took the opportunity to peek at Denki in his peripherals. Instantly Izuku was jealous, mainly because Denki was either really good at masking his emotions or because he had short circuited upon seeing the guest lecturers enter the classroom. Regardless, Izuku wished his face shared the same lack of emotion that Denki’s did, he was beginning to feel like everyone was looking at him. Izuku knew better, but the feeling persisted nonetheless.

As Izuku continued to focus on his breathing and calm his nerves, the instructors were answering the students' questions. Several students asked about the aerial arts and what kind of work it would entail. Others asked less relevant questions, like their ages - which had received an eye twitch and an intimidating crack of knuckles from Vasha. 

One student even had the gall to ask about Vasha’s skin; a combination of brown and white patches which seemed to correspond to the white sections in her hair. Despite the invasive question Vasha had calmly taken the moment to explain vitiligo and how her body’s immune system was attacking the cells in her skin that produced pigment.

Sero was brave enough to ask the tough question, “What does aerial sport have to do with becoming a hero?”

“Well,” Ryukin said, jumping in to answer, “In the aerial arts you need to have an unparalleled level of muscular control. Being in tune with the way your body moves and interacts with itself. A quirk is like a muscle and if used correctly and in tandem with the rest of your body, your quirk can do unique things. Does that make sense?”

Blank eyes stared back, several students nodded slowly at the lecturers. 

“Basically, you've spent the last two and a half years building muscles and building quirks independent of one another." He stated bluntly as he gauged the room before continuing. "While those are two excellent areas of focus, we can take it a step further. If you understand every part of your body; your arms, legs, chest, hips, and quirk. You can use them together to create a new level of ease and fluidity in your movement. It can strengthen certain quirks too. I’ll be honest though, this is no walk in the park. It's why we only teach third year students.”

The students slowly nodded their heads again, some giving a deep sigh. They had hoped for simplicity, but they should have known better - this was the hero course. 

That’s when Bakugo stood up, slammed his hand on his desk, and opened his mouth. “If this shit can strengthen quirks, then let's see yours in action! I want to know what the hell I’m doing with my time! Cause I sure as hell ain’t wasting it doing any self expression bullshit.”

Izuku flinched, turning to stare at Katsuki. Even Denki had snapped back to reality and locked eyes with Izuku before subtly wincing. Poor social interaction skills were normal for Katsuki, so was the swearing. What caused Izuku to flinch was the way he had spoken to the lecturers. Personal experience had taught him that Vasha didn’t put up with that behavior under any circumstance. 

If you were to question the students of 3A later that day, none of them would have been able to tell you how Vasha had gotten from the front of the class to directly in front of Bakugo's face. What they could explain was that they had blinked and she had disappeared; that when they had opened their eyes she was inches from Bakugo’s scowling face, her eyes aglow in orange light. The students would even be able to tell you that Bakugo’s temper, in comparison to Vasha's, was like dealing with a toddler having a tantrum.

The entire class had grown quiet. “You want to know about our quirks? Want to see them in action so that you don’t waste your time?” she was barely speaking and yet the sound spread throughout the room, reverberating off the walls. “Too bad! I don’t answer the questions of snot nosed little punks who don’t know how to respect their elders. You would do well to mind your manners when speaking to me and my husband. The way this is going, I’m starting to think training you would be a waste of my time.” Her mouth snapping around the last few words; a glistening pair of white fangs on display as she leaned further into Bakugo’s personal space.

Katsuki had already sat down in his seat. Jaw clenched and eyebrows furrowed in a confrontational expression. What he wanted to do was yell at her, but found he couldn’t open his mouth to speak. In fact, he couldn’t move at all aside from the involuntary shaking in his hands.

Vasha walked back to the front, tucking a strand of hair behind a pointed ear. “I will make this abundantly clear, assuming I have not already. If you want to learn from us, then you treat us like any other teacher at UA. If you want to exist within your own built up ego that’s okay too - so long as you don’t mind us destroying every ounce of self worth you think you have. I’m not here to babysit and play games, I’m here to train the next generation of heroes. So listen closely, because I do not repeat myself. Respect is a two way street. If you don’t give it, you don’t get it. Is. That. Clear.”

“Yes...ma’am,” the class mumbled. 

Vasha stared out towards the students, eyebrows raised in disbelief. 

“YES MA’AM” the class repeated loud and clear.

“Better. Now allow us to explain what you should expect in the coming weeks.” 

Walking to the chalkboard, Ryukin picked up a piece of chalk and wrote down the itinerary as his wife went through the motions with the students. Stopping here and there to allow for questions or clarifications.

Without giving it much thought Izuku copied the information into one of his journals, breathing steady at the familiarity of taking notes.

Hitoshi tried his best to focus on the lecturers but he was having trouble paying attention with Izuku fidgeting in his seat. The green haired teen had tensed up when the lecturers entered the room and he hadn't calmed down until he began taking notes. Hell, Izuku made it difficult to concentrate most days, but this time was different. Izuku was on edge and Hitoshi couldn’t figure out why.

When the woman had moved to stand at Bakugo’s desk he had noticed Kaminari was out of sorts; no dumb smile plaguing his face. Vasha’s voice had been something else too, he would have bet on a voice quirk but the speed with which she seemed to move made that an unlikely option. A voice that echoes, eyes that glow and incredible speed...Do these two really only teach aerial arts and acrobatics? If this is her power, what about her husbands? Hitoshi thought as he continued to observe the two at the front of the room.

Once Ryukin had begun writing out notes Hitoshi had found his thoughts drawn to the protective detail that he would be doing with Shouta over the weekend. His dad hadn’t mentioned any specific details like location or target. Was it only the two of them or would there be others? There was an entire host of questions he wanted to ask the man. Looks like I’ll be spending lunch talking to dad. Sorry Izuku.

When the lunch bell finally rang the entire class seemed to breathe a cohesive sigh of relief. Shoving his books in his bag, Izuku headed straight for the door avoiding the crowd of students gathering around the Hashima’s to ask them questions. Normally Izuku would have explained to Hitoshi where he was going but he still couldn’t get last night's exploration out of his head. Furthermore the less time he spent in the classroom with his instructors the better. To avoid any later awkwardness he retrieved his phone and shot Hitoshi a text message.

~ Hitoshi <3

Had to run. Meeting Mei.

Text me later?

No worries. 

Need to talk to Shouta.

Definitely. *winky face*

Winkey face? What the hell...that’s new. Izuku thought as he raced off towards the labs. Without giving it any additional thought, Izuku sent a quick reply and pocketed his phone.

Awesome. Ttyl. *smiley face*

Hitoshi’s phone vibrated in his pocket. Looking at the screen he saw Izuku’s message and noticed the returned emoji. An irregularity to the messaging he normally received from the other teen. Another blush crept across pale cheeks as he put his phone back in his pocket and headed towards his dad’s desk. Hoping that soon the crowd of eager students would take their conversation elsewhere.

Izuku’s phone vibrated again. Assuming it was Hitoshi he looked at the screen, instead finding a message from Denki.

~Sparky~

Duuuude that was tense!

We need to talk. Call me ASAP.

Meeting Mei.

Chat after school?

UGH

Fine.

My room or yours.

Yours.

With yet another thing added to his list of shit to get done, Izuku shoved his phone in his pocket and hurried along.

Nezu sat in his office, a small pile of paperwork set off to the side of his desk. Tapping a small button on the underside of the desk’s edge, the wall to his right folded into itself revealing a series of screens. Each screen captured a location on the UA campus, but the one that held his focus was of Izuku Midoriya running down the halls in a rush to reach support class 3H. The intellectual critter watched the screen, curious about the teens actions, while simultaneously recalling his conversation with Aizawa the previous evening. 

The weekly staff meeting had just ended and Nezu had a pressing matter to take care of before the weekend. Normally he would spend his upcoming weekend observing the extracurricular activities of two of his students, this time he had to deal with the Hero Commission. Meaning he needed to recruit a member of staff to attend his students function. The result of which was Nezu calling out to the one teacher he knew would likely have no plans for the weekend. Thus being free to oversee the protection detail he would need done. 

“Mr. Aizawa, may I speak with you for a moment?” he requested before the man could leave the room. “Please?”

Aizawa had stopped short of the doorway and held in a groan he deeply wished to exhale. Biting his tongue he turned to the creature he called his boss. “What did you want to speak to me about, Sir?”

“As you may or may not be aware, I have taken on a particular role every few months since All Might’s passing last year.”

“I was not aware.”

“I see.” Nezu said, bowing his head and choosing his next words carefully. “I am regretfully unable to fulfill these obligations this weekend and would be ever so grateful if you could take on a protection detail in my absence. The protection detail is for two of your students, Mr. Aizawa.” Nezu continued, “They have an event this weekend and as we both know your students are far more prone to villain attacks than any class we’ve taught.”

Aizawa’s eyebrows knit together in confusion, “Two of my students, Sir? I was unaware any of my students were leaving school grounds for anything other than school work.”

“Yes. It was not relevant that you know of their activities until now. As I mentioned, Yagi Toshinori was the one who attended everything in the time he was with us. This was all at the behest of the student's mother. Before he passed he explained the situation to me, not that I had not been aware previously, and asked that I continue to let these students participate in the out of school extra-curricular.” Nezu watched Aizawa carefully, studying his reaction. Almost disappointed when the tired hermit made no fuss about being left out of information pertaining to his students.

“You’ll be on protective detail for Denki Kaminari and Izuku Midoriya. They’ll be competing at the Performance Hall in Nagano City.”

“May I ask what they will be competing in, Sir”

“You may ask, but I will not provide you an answer. It's doubtful you would believe me if I told you.” Nezu stated. “Now shall we go over the finer details? Assuming that you accept, of course.”

“Of course Sir. I accept.”

With Aizawa’s consent to take on the job, Nezu reviewed the finer points of the protective detail. 

“Midoriya and Kaminari are not aware that you will be attending. They have their own means of travel to and from the competition site. As per the usual, please check back every hour on the hour using your ear comm. You will be running protective detail alone, though you may choose to bring someone with you, if you so wish. I’ll remind you that although this is not a school run function it is not a vacation either. I want you at your best.

“Understood Sir. Since I can bring someone along, may I request Hitoshi shadow me during the protective detail?”

“I see no reason why that would be a problem. So long as he adheres to the same rules and expectations I’ve set out for you, then I consent. You may brief him yourself when you see fit.”

“Thank you Sir. Anything else?”

“Not at the moment, Shouta. You are dismissed. Thank you.’

Aizawa gave a nod, exited the meeting hall, and headed straight home. 

Nezu brought his thoughts back to the present. Humming a simple tune to himself, he took a sip of his quickly cooling tea and returned his eyes to the many screens. This time he focused on Shinso - the Class A transfer student. Familiar with the situation going on between Midoriya and Shinso, Nezu hoped this would help clear the air. The intelligent white creature was aware that involving Shinso in the detail might change certain dynamics, but he was eager to see the results. While he had told Aizawa that the boys were not aware he was attending, he had failed to mention - intentionally - that young Midoriya was well aware of the fact that Nezu had been watching his performances for the past eleven months.

Watching Midoriya was always interesting, but this year Nezu could tell that the child burdened by the epithet ‘Symbol of Peace’ was failing to communicate his needs to the people around him. Secrets were being kept, the kind that poisoned pure intentions and damaged connections. A young hero cutting himself off from his friends simply because of a series of circumstances beyond his control was unnecessary. Nezu would have none of that, he’d promised Toshinori as much. 

Eyes settling on a third screen, Nezu caught glimpses of Denki Kaminari. Rather than heading to the mess hall with the rest of his classmates, he broke from the group and headed down the hallway towards the 3B hero classroom. Approaching from the other side of the hallway was another student and as they walked past Kaminari their lips moved, the conversation inaudible to the cameras.

“Interesting,” Nezu said to himself, “Perhaps more than one person will find themselves unburdened by the end of the weekend.”

Twenty minutes after class dismissal the students in 3A had cleared out, the instructors turning to thank Aizawa for the class’ time before leaving of their own accord. When Hitoshi was finally able to ask Shouta about their plans for the weekend, he had received little information. Apart from what he had been told that morning, Hitoshi now knew that they would be spending Saturday and Sunday at the Performance Hall in Nagano City. Shouta refused to tell him the names of the individuals being protected, or why they were going to a performance hall. When he had tried to argue, stating that he needed to know in order to complete the work successfully, Shouta had blatantly admitted that he couldn’t give information that he didn’t have. 

Surrendering to the sounds of a growling stomach, Hitoshi decided to drop the argument. Since Izuku was visiting Mei, he decided to see if he could find Yamada and Eri in the dining hall. A task that shouldn’t prove too difficult considering the little gremlins personal fan club. 

He had been correct in that matter. When he arrived at the dining hall Eri was surrounded by the girls from class 3A who were complimenting her hair and her outfit. Eri had done well over the last year and half to improve her socialization with the various students at U.A. Walking towards the small group, he sat down beside Yamada and waited for Eri to notice he was there. It didn't take long and soon the silver haired child was dropping herself into his lap, giving him a squeeze as the rest of the group let out soft 'aww' sounds. Hitoshi rolled his eyes before asking Eri how her morning with Yamada had gone.

"It was fun! We picked out all kinds of cool food and fun snacks. I got to push the cart around this time!" She beamed at him. 

"I'm glad you had fun. You'll have to tell me more about it when we get back tonight. I'm going to grab lunch, have you eaten yet?" 

Eri's head bobbed from side to side as she shook it. Hitoshi nodded and got up to grab them some food. 

"Are you going to tell him about your surprise?" Yamada asked Eri.

"Nope! He can find out tomorrow. Then he can have a surprise too!" A cheshire grin setting across her features, mirroring the smile that sat on her papa's face.

Denki was walking towards the mess hall with his friends when he caught a familiar face coming out of the 3B hero classroom. Quickly coming up with a little white lie, Denki mentioned to his group that he needed to use the washroom and that he would meet them in the mess hall. They waved goodbye and when the others were out of sight he made a beeline for the other student. 

Knowing full well the other student could see him, Kaminari stopped and waited to be acknowledged. When the student walked by with no acknowledgement, Kaminari turned to them and stated bluntly.

“We need to talk.” 

“No.” Their voice was quieter than normal, almost a whisper. The opposite of their usually loud and obnoxious tone.

“Please, we have to talk sometime. Last weekend was...was…” but Kaminari couldn’t find the word he needed to finish his thought. 

“We are not talking about that at school .” Tone sharp, yet measured. The other student gripped the bridge of their nose in frustration.

“Out of school?” Denki asked.

“Tonight. Eight o’clock.” They sighed, “I’ll email you the address.”

“Or you could text it to me,” whispered Kaminari, hand outstretched with a scrap of paper between his fingers. 

The other student grabbed the slip of paper, refusing to meet Kaminari's eyes and stormed off towards the mess hall. 

Kaminari could feel butterflies in his stomach, or maybe they were knots. At the moment he couldn’t really tell but he was hoping that tonight’s conversation would clear things up. He'd been trying to talk with the other student for every day for nearly a week.  At least they talked to me. That’s...a start?

A short jingle met his ears and Kaminari retrieved his phone from his bag, noting the unknown number notification on his home screen. 

Unknown Number

Jericho Dinner.

8pm

If you’re late. I leave.

C U @8

Your spelling is atrocious.

With that out of the way Denki quickly uploaded the number into his contact list. Neito Monoma. Thinking twice he erased the name and put C.C instead. Please let tonight go smoothly. Tucking his phone back in his book bag, Denki headed towards the mess hall to meet up with his friends. 

Izuku arrived at Mei’s lab and found it empty. No Mei. No Power Loader. It was strange and somewhat disconcerting. He wandered around the lab, checking corners and under tables in case Mei was simply out of sight, but she wasn’t there at all. Pulling out his phone, Izuku called her number to no avail. This was not something he needed right now. All he wanted was to come talk to Mei, grab the items she made him and go. 

“Mr. Midoriya?”

Izuku turned around to see Mei walk into the lab, Power Loader walking beside her. Each had a tray full of food from the cafeteria. 

“Thank God! I thought you forgot...or...or maybe you’d been kidnapped. You’re never not here.” 

“That would be my fault Mr. Midoriya. After I discovered Ms. Hatsume hadn’t eaten since yesterday. I was rather insistent that she get some lunch.” Power Loader said as he walked past the freckled teen and set his tray down on the work counter.

“She pulled an all-nighter too.” Izuku stated without hesitation of Mei's wrath. 

“Really? Well then Ms. Hatsume, you best finish your food, settle matters with Mr. Midoriya and then find a comfortable cot in the back. You won’t be touching any tools again until you’re well rested.” 

“But...but...my babies, they need me!” Mei whined. “Izuku how could yooou!”

“We both knew this was coming, Mei. Now before we get too far off track, where are my items?” His eyes cautiously observed Power Loader for any indication he knew what was going on. 

“Here!” Mei chirped, pulling a small box out from under the nearest work table. “I’ve included all of the modifications you requested and I think I even solved the issue with the adhesive.”

Izuku nodded, watching the box on the desk. Rather than open it and show him the devices, Mei slid it across the table. Picking up the box and removing the lid, Izuku inspected the contents. Inside was a black piece of fabric about half an inch thick, a small plastic square fastened to the center. Flipping it over in the box he poked the adhesive side with his finger and found that it felt no different than his current bass plate. Beside the bass plate were two small clear containers, each containing a black device that looked similar to his hearing aid. Rather than the thick cartridge, like the one hidden behind his ear currently, these were flatter. Mei had mentioned finding a way to alter the amplifier and the microphone so that the device felt less bulky. 

“These look great Mei, but why did you make two? I only need one.”

Mei looked towards Izuku, shifting on her feet as Power Loader watched the two teens' interactions. “Oh! I didn’t tell you?! Silly me I must have gotten so excited about making it that I forgot. The one with the blue dot on the container is specifically for...uh...fuuun. The one with the red dot, that’s the new one! It does both so you don’t have to keep switching one out for the other.”

“What exactly did you create, Ms. Hatsume?” A curious Power Loader inquired. 

“Uuuhhh” Mei hesitated, “Only what Izuku asked me to...Sir?”

“Hopefully nothing for use outside of the school. You know that’s against school policy. We’ve talked about this before. School resources are not for personal use Ms. Hatsume.”

Izuku quickly chimed in, “Mei has permission from Principal Nezu for these particular devices, Power Loader Sensei.” 

“From Nezu you say...odd he never said anything to me about it. You know I’ll check into this?”

“He wouldn’t have said Sir, the matter involving the items is on a need to know and rather private basis. You are more than welcome to double check with Principal Nezu.”

Power Loader waved his hands in the air, somewhat exasperated with the entire situation. “I  do not need your permission to do my job Mr. Midoriya. Now, I suppose I should leave you to discuss the items without prying eyes.”

Mei released a long, loud breath she hadn’t been aware she was holding. “Yes, please! I’d love to know that everything is working the way that it’s supposed to and it’s difficult to do so without having access to a full vocabulary.”

Power Loader picked up his tray, gave a gruff goodbye and left. Mei rushed to lock the door behind him. 

Izuku turned the box upside down on the table, spilling the contents so they could review each of the items in detail. Without hesitation he removed his blazer and unbuttoned his shirt in a way that allowed him access to his chest. Picking the bass plate up he looked towards Mei.

“You said you fixed the adhesive issue? Do I still apply it as I normally would?”

“Absolutely!” Mei beamed, watching as Izuku placed the self adhering item onto his chest. He pulled each corner and edge out one at a time, ensuring that it laid flat on the skin. 

“Now normally, you said that the adhesive starts to release itself after you’ve been wearing it for an extended period of time, correct?”

“Right. I normally have to remove it between performances during competitions. I’d prefer to wear it for the entire day without being concerned it’s going to fall off.”

“Great! So when you brought that problem to my attention I tried a wide variation of different adhesives and nothing worked the way I wanted it to so I made my own. It’s not so much an adhesive per say, so much as it is a form of nanotechnology. See the hard plastic square in the center of the patch?”

Izuku looked down at his chest, and returned his gaze to Mei. 

“Pick a finger and hold it over the patch! Pick carefully though, it will always be the same finger.” 

Somewhat confused, Izuku did as he was told and pressed his left middle finger over the square on his right pectoral. After several seconds the device blinked green.”

“Okaaay…Explain”

Mei was beaming, fingers interlocked in front of a wide grin. “The nanotechnology in the adhesive of the patch communicates with the microchip in the scanner. When you scan your fingerprint and verify that the device is on, the adhesive recognizes your DNA sequence and stays adhered to the surface of your skin until you scan your fingerprint a second time to deactivate it. Go ahead! Try and peel it off!”

Nodding slowly, Izuku tried to grab at one of the corners and lift, but the adhesive stayed flat to his skin. “How in the...when did you even have time to gather a sample of my DNA”

“I didn’t,” Mei said, blinking innocently, “When you scanned your finger, it also read your biometrics and adhered to your skin. If you were wearing it and I tried to remove the patch using my fingerprint, nothing would happen.”

“That’s...extreme.”

Mei puffed out her cheeks. “What do you mean extreme? My baby is perfect. You wanted it to stick and it does!”

Izuku chuckled nervously and pressed his middle finger into the plastic scanner again. This time the light flashed red and when Izuku grabbed at a corner the adhesive separated without putting up a fight. 

“Thank you Mei, now can you explain these?” his hand gesturing towards the two small devices on the table. 

Mei nodded excitedly as Izuku pulled his hair up into a messy bun using one of the elastics he kept around his wrist. Normally he would leave his hair down, but considering that Mei knew everything he was slightly more comfortable exposing his hearing aid. 

Mei grabbed the container with the blue dot. The one she had described as being for…’fuuun.’ Izuku assumed that meant it was specifically for aerial training. 

“Before you put this one in, let me explain how it works. Unlike your current device, I’ve modified this one to focus only on music. It’s basically a Bluetooth speaker that functions like a hearing aid. What makes it unique is that while it’s in use, you will be unable to hear any background interference. It is only for music.” Mei was careful to emphasize the only. “Even with the hearing you have left in your right ear, you won’t be able to hear anything except what you have synced to the device. It can’t be used for phone calls either. As I said it acts like a Bluetooth speaker, but it is not a Bluetooth speaker. I’ve coded it so that it can sync to a single device.” 

Listening intently to Mei’s explanation, Izuku nodded. To ensure he had a clear understanding, the teen repeated the important pieces back to Mei.

“It can only sync to one device, I will have zero background interference, and any hearing I do have in my right ear will be blocked off while the device is in use. Like a soundproofing headset?”

Mei nodded. “When you aren’t using it, you’ll still be able to hear conversations and background noise, but only at the capacity you can hear without your hearing aid. I thought it would be useful for rehearsals or just for music in general.”

Izuku nodded sheepishly. “It would be nice to listen to music without having to wear a pair of bulky headphones over my hearing aid. Thanks Mei, wish we’d have thought of this sooner. Can I give it a try?”

Mei enthusiastically shoved the device into Izuku’s hand, suppressing a squeal as he removed his hearing aid and took the device from its plastic case. Carefully Izuku placed the bulkier piece of the device behind his ear, bringing the tone hook over the top and pressing the earmold into his ear canal. 

“Does it fit okay?” Mei yelled. 

Izuku heard her muffled question and gave her a thumbs up. Retrieving his phone from his pocket, he paired the device and selected a song. When the music began to play Izuku could hear it clearly. It was as if he were wearing his hearing aid and listening to music at the same time, but instead of having all the technology digging into the side of his head it was a single piece of plastic that fit comfortably over his ear. Pausing the song and removing the device, Izuku shot Mei a smile. 

Izuku replaced the musical device with his previous hearing aid, “Awesome Mei. Absolutely genius. Thank you!”

Mei beamed back at him, rocking onto her heels. “We aren’t done yet!” She said, her tone lilting as she wiggled the other clear case between her fingers.

“Alright, how does this one work?”

“Essentially? Identical to the other, except this feeds the music AND the background noise simultaneously. Meaning as you perform your routines on stage, you’ll be able to hear the audience. It also means you won’t be constantly changing your device between performances so that you can communicate with the people around you.”

“So it’s basically your standard hearing aid?” Izuku asked, smirking.

“Don’t be a smartass Izuku. You know my baby is different.”

Izuku did know, he just liked to tease Mei when he could. He was well aware of the fact that the standard hearing aid could only process sound. It could not be synced to a phone or stream music like a set of headphones. The work Mei did for him was appreciated, he just didn’t want it to go to her head.

“Sorry, sorry. Just teasing,” he chuckled. “Will you be coming this weekend?”

“Of course! I need feedback and field data on my babies. I’d never dream of missing a chance to see my darling devices in action.”

“I meant to watch Denki and me.”

“Oh, yeah! That too.” Mei giggled.

Izuku rolled his eyes at the pink haired mastermind and carefully put the devices back in the box. “Thanks Mei.” 

“But of course! Just glad I could help.”

Putting the small box into his large, worn yellow bag, Izuku pulled the female teen into a tight hug. “I really can’t thank you enough.” he whispered.

Mei squeezed back, rubbing her hands over the green haired teens shoulders. “Don’t need to thank me. Just kill the competition tomorrow. Okay?”

Nodding into her shoulder, Izuku took a deep breath and released her from his grip. 

“See you tomorrow?”

“Convenience store on Tsuba Street. Six a.m. Wouldn’t miss it.” Mei gave him one last smile as he pulled his hair out of the messy bun, redressed, unlocked the classroom door and headed out into the hall. 

There were few people who knew what Izuku Midoriya did in his spare time, fewer yet who knew about his personal situation. Mei made everything seem normal; she never asked questions she didn’t need answers to, and she was always open to finding new ways to help. She might not be the friend he sat around cafe’s telling the latest bits of gossip to, or the friend that he called when shit hit the fan, but Mei was a good friend with solid priorities and an unwavering desire to help. Izuku was lucky to have her. Without Mei, he would have had to quit competing, he probably would have had to quit hero work too. There were no words he could ever use to express his gratitude, no matter how much he thanked her and he wondered if she knew that.

Of course, there was no guarantee he wouldn’t have to give up these things in the near future. As long as he was careful, Izuku should have been able to keep his hearing until graduation. Maybe even a little later. If he was careful.

The rest of the day passed uneventfully. Izuku had missed lunch, which was unfortunate as it meant his energy wasn’t where he wanted it for rescue practice that afternoon.  His group had done well, they had saved everyone. Time wise they had placed somewhere in the middle. At the end of the day everyone hit the showers and headed home. Hitoshi had stayed behind to talk with Aizawa, which Izuku was a little jealous about - he had hoped he would get to have at least one conversation with the violet eyed teen before leaving for the weekend. Denki and Izuku had even managed to last the week without any debilitating injuries meaning they were in peak condition for the competition too. Things were looking up, which was a refreshing change of pace.

When Izuku returned to the dorm he bounded up to his room, dropped off his bag and headed down to Denki’s on the third floor. When he came out of the staircase Denki was just getting off the elevator. Izuku called out, waving a hand in greeting as he stopped in front of the blond's door. 

“Hope now is okay. My list of activities for the night kind of filled up faster than expected.” 

“You and I both, man.” Denki responded, fishing his key out of his pocket and letting them both into his room. Locking the door behind them, the two teens sat across from one another on the floor.

“What did you want to talk about?” asked Izuku.

“DID YOU KNOW RYUKIN AND VASHA WERE COMING TODAY?!?!” Denki screeched, electrical charges running up and down his arms.

Izuku’s eyes widened, somewhat surprised by the sudden outburst. “No,” he replied calmly, “but a heads up would have been appreciated. Do they even know that we haven’t told anyone about what we do in our spare time?”

Denki’s face seemed to pale, his mouth flopping like a fish out of water. The only indication he had heard Izuku was the shrug he gave in the green haired teens direction. 

“To be honest Denki, I'm concerned about the whole situation. How are we going to pretend like we don’t know what we’re doing in front of the rest of the class? I can perform half my routines with my eyes closed. It’s second nature. On top of that there’s the competition this weekend and now that the other students know about aerial acrobatics, what if they see an online video? What if they see us? What if they see the bus tomorrow morning? Denki, I’m losing my mind just thinking about all the what if’s. They talk about respect, and then they pull this stunt?! We’ve been with that studio almost a damn decade and they couldn’t even tell us they were going to be at the school? Of course it’s not like we can say any of this to Vasha, you know how she gets. Just look at what happened to Katsuki today! The woman barely had her quirk activated and she had him sitting there paralyzed in under a minute.”

Denki was surprised to hear Izuku talk for such an extensive length of time. It was nice to see a small glimpse of the old Izuku for a moment. Holding his hands in the air, palms out, he gestured for the emerald eyed teen to stop talking. When he did, Denki cut in.

“I agree. A heads up or some kind of pre-warning would have been nice. I know Vasha likes to keep us on our toes, but Ryukin could have sent us a text or something. We were literally at the studio yesterday and even Oriko didn’t say anything on our way out.”

Izuku nodded along, agreeing with everything he was hearing.

“If I wasn’t so familiar with Vasha, I’d probably be laughing about Bakugo. It was nice to see him put in his place for a change. It’ll be interesting to see how he comes out of this training.”

“Agreed. Katsuki has an attitude problem but Vasha is on an entirely different level.” Releasing a guttural sigh Izuku looked towards Denki. “We’ll have to talk to them tomorrow when they pick us up. There are definitely a few things that need to be cleared up.”

It was Denki’s turn to nod in agreement. “Definitely.”

For the next several minutes the teens sat there in silence, contemplating the events of that morning. Trying to discern what they were going to do come Monday when everyone was stuffed into the training room. 

“Mei reached out?” Denki asked, breaking the silence.

“Oh! Yeah, she did. She finished everything this morning. I picked it all up at lunch today.” Izuku gave a shy grin. “Everything’s great.”

“Is she still coming tomorrow?”

Izuku just nodded, as he picked at his nails. 

“Cool.”

Leaning his head against the wall, Izuku released another deep sigh and closed his eyes. It was going to take a better chunk of the night for him to process everything that had happened today. 

“So about your crush…” Denki began.

A groan escaped the other teens lips, “Deeenkiii! I’m not talking about that with you. I’m not!” Izuku knit his brows together, glaring at the blond.

“Okaaay but I think I figured it out. It was kind of obvious after you mentioned it yesterday.” 

Another groan. “Drop it.”

“But Izuuu,” Denki whined.

“I don’t want to talk about this. We have enough on our plates.” Besides, he likes you Denki. Not me. Izuku’s thoughts screaming in his head.

“Well I do.” The blond pouted, folding his arms over his chest. “You’re no fun.”

“If we talk about my crush, then we have to talk about your crush. You really want to do that?” Izuku reasoned. 

Releasing a groan of his own, Denki shook his head. “No, but I’m not crushing on the teacher’s kid so mmm” he said, scrunching his nose and sticking his tongue out at Izuku.

“Nope, just a stuck up prick with a superiority complex and a deep seated hatred for our entire class.” Izuku shot back, trying to hide the blush on his face.

Denki was back to gasping for air, not even trying to deny the statement his partner had just made. “B-b-but h-how did…” he trailed off, not even sure how to finish his own sentence.

Looking over his arms Izuku gave Denki a blank stare. “We all went to the bar together. I don't drink. When I get bored I watch people. You were quick to follow him out. It was mostly a guess, but your reaction just now speaks volumes.”

“I thought we weren’t talking about this,” Denki chided.

“We aren’t.”

“Good.”

“Good.”

The room grew quiet again between the two teens. Each sat on either side of the room with their knees pulled up to their chest, arms braced against their knees. 

“We’re fucking hopeless.” Izuku laughed, tossing his head back. 

“Completely.” Denki laughed too, the sound reverberating around the small bedroom. “Look Izuku, I don’t know what you saw last weekend, but you can’t say anything. Please. They’ll never speak to me again.” His voice grew quiet.

“I won’t. You keep enough secrets for me. I think I can manage one of yours. Besides, if I spill the beans, you’ve got plenty of ammunition to fire back at me. Just don’t say anything to Hitoshi.”

“Don’t think I have to.” Denki said. “Pretty sure he’s got a crush on you too. You’re just oblivious.”

“Trust me, it’s not me he’s crushing on. I’m not that oblivious.” Izuku sighed, resting his head in the palm of his hand. 

Denki arched an eyebrow, giving him a curious look. From the pained expression on his face, Denki could tell that Izuku didn’t want to discuss the matter further, so he let it drop. Pulling his phone from his bag he checked the time; 4:52 flashing in white numerals across the screen. Three hours.

“Study group starts in eight minutes. Do you want to join us tonight?” Denki asked. 

Izuku shook his head no and made to stand up from the floor. “Finished everything last night. I’ve got some personal matters to attend to tonight.”

Denki nodded and got up from the floor. Grabbing his book bag and heading towards the door. Izuku followed him out, wished him a good night, and headed back to his own room. When he arrived he opened the door, set an alarm for six-thirty p.m. and curled up on his bed to take a quick nap. As he drifted into slumber he thought about Katsuki and the first conversation they’d had in the abandoned room eleven  months ago.

Chapter Text

As Izuku fell asleep he began to dream of the night when things changed between Kacchan and himself. Class 2A had just returned from their final and most brutal escapade against the League of Villains. Yet again Izuku had ended up in a hospital bed, where he received news from Recovery Girl that sent him spiraling. On top of that, the blow to the head he had taken in his fight against the League had resulted in permanent loss of hearing in his left ear. What he thought would take years had occurred far quicker than he had imagined and he wasn’t entirely prepared. Izuku was holed up in bed for an entire week with nothing but his thoughts and the occasional visitor. On several occasions he had tried to sneak away and check on All Might, but his efforts were met with failure and several lectures from Aizawa about taking the time needed to heal.

So Izuku had laid in bed contemplating what he would do when he was out of the hospital, dwelling on and partially analyzing the series of events in his life that had led him to this moment. Thoughts of his middle school years, of being bullied and beaten; the attack on the USJ, and the several recurring battles that had occurred with the League of Villains afterwards weighed heavily on his mind. Izuku thought about the people he had managed to save and about the ones he had lost. After a week in bed with a mind that did nothing but overthink everything, Izuku had reached a conclusion that displeased him. It was time for a conversation with what, or rather who, he believed to be the core of his personal problems.

When he had finally been cleared to return to the dorms, Izuku had gone on the hunt for his target. From the other end of the school medical wing, Izuku laid eyes on his victim. The angry blond was leaning against the wall, phone in hand, mind occupied by whatever he was viewing. Izuku didn’t stop to question why the blond was there, instead he took his opportunity where he could find it and stormed over. No speech, no greeting, just eerie calm as he waited for Katsuki to notice the fact that he was standing there.

“Whaddaya want ya damn nerd?” He remarked gruffly. Eyes glued to the screen.

“We need to talk.” Izuku’s tone was cold, almost angry, but calm. Not calm like Izuku was when he was on missions or when he was in tense situations. A different kind of calm. The kind that settled over an area before a storm struck. Katsuki was put off but replied the best he could without involuntarily letting his voice waver. “Yeah? ‘Bout what?”

“Everything,” the emerald eyed teen seethed.

Izuku jabbed a piece of paper into Katsuki’s chest, turned around and walked off. Whether Katsuki decided to come or not was his decision but Izuku had done his part. It was time to find out if this dilapidated bridge they referred to as friendship was ready to be mended or if it was time the two of them burned it down for good. Izuku needed answers and he was done with waiting for the emotionally constipated blond.

Katsuki stood there looking like an idiot - a feeling he often despised as it reminded him of his youth. With a returning glance at his phone, Katsuki noticed the small white object in his peripheral vision. In the place where Deku had jabbed him sat a small folded piece of paper. As Katsuki attempted to collect the paper, it tumbled from its resting place on his chest and floated quietly to the floor. Do I really want to waste my time with this ? He thought to himself before recalling the tone of Deku’s voice. An unwarranted and irrational shiver slipping down his spine. Katsuki bent to pick up the paper, and opened it while he remained crouched above the floor. 

“West Wing, 6:00pm. Unused room on the fourth floor. TONIGHT” he muttered under his breath. What the hell, he wants me to meet him in an abandoned dorm room? Katsuki looked at his phone screen, 5:50pm flashed in bold white numerals across the front. He wants me to meet him in ten minutes!? What the fuck, Deku!

Izuku walked back to the dorm quickly. It felt good to walk around for the first time in several days, but he had given himself barely enough time to drop his bag off in his room, throw on a pair of comfortable sweats and head to the place he’d asked Katsuki to meet him. The short notice had been intentional, preventing him from having enough time to talk himself out of the situation he was about to cause. His hands were already shaking at the thought of being alone in a room with Katsuki.

Katsuki was speed walking through the courtyard. Phone screen reading 5:58pm. He groaned, knowing he didn’t even have enough time to drop off his book bag. There were any number of items Izuku wanted to talk to him about. None that warranted the tone of voice he’d heard earlier - except maybe All Might’s condition - but that didn’t stop Katsuki from running over every other possible problem in his head. He thought they had improved over the last year; rivals in training to become heroes. Maybe that was only his thinking. Katsuki groaned, rounded the corner to the stairs and bolted to the fourth floor where he popped through the entrance into the hall. He had no idea what he was in store for, but he sure as hell wasn’t going to be late.

Reaching his destination Katsuki grabbed the doorknob and threw open the door. The room that was laid out before him was dark, the window on the opposite wall had the curtains drawn open, revealing a thin layer of dust over the few pieces of furniture that were present. Furniture which did nothing to provide any semblance of comfort. “Deku? You here yet?”

A small nervous sigh escaping his lips, Izuku answered quietly, “Yeah, I’m over here”.

Katsuki took several steps away from the door and turned to see that Izuku was standing against an old dresser. A couch was across the room sitting in the opposite corner. 

“Where the hell’d all this damn furniture come from?”

“Huh?” replied Izuku, temporarily confused by the unexpected question, “Oh, I think it's Yaoyorouzu's?” He shrugged.

“Right. So, whaddaya want?” Katsuki said, hand shifting through his hair as he dropped his bag on the ground and proceeded to flop on the sofa. Dust billowing around him.

“To talk.”

“I gathered as much from our earlier encounter myself, dumbass. Talk about what ?” Katsuki grumbled, getting more and more frustrated with the individual standing across from him.

“About us. I want to talk about whatever the hell the two of us keep dancing around but refuse to  acknowledge.” Izuku’s voice raised slightly at the tone the other teen was beginning to take with him. “I want to know why after a year of training, team building and heading into a whole host of dangerous situations together you still can’t be bothered to talk to me while looking me in the eyes.”

“Eh?! That’s what you want to talk about? Why?”

“Because, damnit, I need to know. I need to know why you hate me!” Izuku said, raising his voice.

Katsuki was a little taken aback at Deku’s tone of voice. Did Deku just...swear? “I don’t hate you.” Katsuki mumbled, crossing his arms over his chest.

“What? Speak up.”

“I DON’T HATE YOU!” Katsuki snapped.

“Bullshit! Could have fucking fooled me.” Izuku’s eyes narrowed.

Nope, Katsuki hadn’t imagined the swearing, a supposedly rare occurrence for the green haired teen. 

“Bullshit what Deku? I don’t even get why I’m here ! I don’t know what the hell you want from me but I have better shit to do with my free time than sit here and play mind reader with you all night!” Exasperation and frustration quickly becoming apparent in the blond’s voice. Katsuki lifted himself from the couch, bag in hand as he made his way back towards the door.

Izuku saw what Katsuki was doing and grabbed his wrist, pulling him back towards the couch with more force than was necessary. Green slowly surging to life around his fingers as he shoved the red eyed teen back into his seat.

“Damnit Katsuki, did you even stop to think that this conversation wasn’t about you!” Katsuki flinched at the sound of his first name on the freckled teens lips. 

“Why the fuck are you not capable of understanding that we were friends once! I don’t know what the hell happened though, because you changed Katsuki. The only conclusion I’ve been able to come to since you started treating me like your own personal fucking punching bag, is that your mom and my mom were friends. That’s it! That’s the only conclusion I’ve been able to come to since we stopped hanging out with one another when we were seven. That’s eleven years of questions Katsuki. Eleven years ! We both know that growing up you hated my guts. I followed you everywhere god damnit, and you wanted nothing to do with me. You still treat me like some kind of freak and I have done everything to try and make nice. At first I thought it had to do with my quirk, or lack thereof, but now I’m just like you and you still hate me!” Izuku’s voice rose several octaves, tears threatening to fall from his eyes. 

The blond looked at the other teen, rubbing his wrist absentmindedly. He was surprised to hear Deku sound angry. Surprised to hear Deku yell. Katsuki could not stop himself from spouting his own malicious response in defense to the accusations, “You have never been anything like me!” 

Izuku paid little attention to the teens’ words, continuing to shout at him, “Instead of being friends, I’m constantly fighting a battle against myself and my thoughts get darker on a daily basis while you get to run around acting the hero. What is your problem ?!?!”  Izuku screamed furiously, green energy surging around him as he shoved his hands against the sides of his curly green head. Tears streamed down his cheeks as he gasped for the air to continue yelling at the blond, who had settled back into the couch across from him.

Katsuki glanced around the room checking the windows and the doors. Distress formed a pit in his stomach, worried that a classmate passing by would hear the commotion in the room and stop to see what was happening. He’d never thought Deku was capable of such anger, and the crackling energy he was giving off was causing Katsuki concern.

“If I hadn’t asked you to come today would you have ever bothered trying to talk to me?” Izuku inquired, taking another deep breath. His scarred right hand rose to wipe the tears from his eyes. “Would you have reached out to try and help if you thought something was wrong?! Or if I hadn’t talked to you first?!”

“Of course I woul-.”

“Don’t you dare fucking lie to me!” Izuku seethed, “I know you Katsuki Bakugo. You don’t think that after spending more than half my life chasing after you, that I don’t know what you would and wouldn’t do?  I know everything about you, I always have. Not once in all that time have you ever tried to talk to me about something that didn’t have to do with hero work or All Might -- or - or how fucking amazing you thought you were.” Izuku was pushing his hands through his hair, his expression growing pain filled with each word he spoke. Power filled the room as he tried to get control over his breathing and calm down. Izuku hadn’t expected all of this to just come flooding out, it was supposed to be a conversation and he was screaming.

“I’ve looked up to you since we were children, followed you around everywhere. I was never trying to annoy you, it was me admiring your strength, your conviction. You were so sure you were going to be the next Number One Hero and somehow deep down I knew I couldn’t be a part of that the same way as everyone else in your life. All I’ve ever wanted was for you to succeed and as we got older all you ever wanted was to see me dead !”

“What?! No! Deku where the fuck is this coming from? I --” Katsuki was growing frustrated. Everything that Izuku was talking about sounded so wrong and yet the pit of dread in his stomach seemed to grow, acknowledging internally what he’d been refusing to acknowledge to anyone - self included - over the years.

“Katsuki !” Izuku’s tone was cutting, “You told me to jump off a goddamn roof! Told me I would never amount to anything. It’s because of you that I’m fighting to keep what little bit of hearing I have left! Perhaps you fail to realize what it’s like to look around at the world and realize that one day you may never hear the sound of your friends laughing, or your mother crying, or that you’ll never get to hear the sound of your lover telling you they love you. That you’ll have to find an alternate way to follow the dream you’ve been fighting for because a deaf hero ? Who the hell wants that ?!” 

Izuku was beginning to lose his train of thought, his mind grasping desperately at everything he wanted to say to Katsuki after all these years. Mind reeling from the news that Recovery Girl had given him earlier in the day, the news that had prompted him to finally stand his ground against his childhood bully. Izuku knew he needed to hear Katsuki say it, to hear it explained in the other teens' own words, rather than delving down his usual mental rabbit hole. Now he just hoped he could keep himself together long enough that he didn’t black out or punch a hole through the wall.

Katsuki was sitting in stunned silence, trying - and failing miserably- to find the words he needed to get the glowing teen to calm down. This hadn’t been anything like he was expecting when Deku had shoved the piece of paper into his chest. Anger was Katsuki’s thing, the freckled teen was supposed to be the optimistic, happy go lucky one. When did Deku change? 

Izuku had blamed himself for not having had the strength, for being tired of listening to his classmate’s chauvinistic attitude. Somehow he found the mental fortitude to continue ripping into Katsuki, laying his torment bare before his once childhood friend. “No one wanted me around when I was quirkless. Why would any of this be different ?!?” Izuku wailed. A small shockwave dissipated through the room, his energy leaving him, as his knees gave out beneath him and his body curled into itself on the floor. Sobs ripped from his chest and tears pooled into the carpet that his head was pressed against.

Katsuki’s face grew pale, his jaw muscles tensing, tears began to prickle at the corners of his eyes as his brain fought to process everything Deku had yelled at him. Their friendship over the last eleven years had been strained, he realized this, but was it really this bad. Had he truly caused so much suffering for a single person. What kind of hero was he if the person who had always been there for him, regardless of his behavior, was in this much pain? He knew he’d treated Deku like a disposable toy, but had he really been the reason the teen was tearing into him with everything he had right now?

The first question that rose to the surface of his mind, as he continued to process the information, fell from his lips, “You’re going deaf?” Tears threatening to fall from his own eyes. Get it together Katsuki. You don’t cry.

“Is that th-the only thi-thing that you hear-heard?” Izuku sputtered between sobs. His voice was quiet and raw; shoulders shaking.

“How?” Katsuki asked. He was sure that he knew the answer, he’d spent enough of his time beating up Deku, but he needed to hear it from the source. 

“One too many explosions. One too many blows to the head. One too many fights where I couldn’t protect myself properly. Take your pick, but it was our last battle against the league that tipped everything over the edge.” Katsuki glanced over at Izuku’s form, still huddled on the floor.  The green haired teens breathes unsteady, his body shuddering.

“I’m sorry.” Katsuki said. He knew it wasn’t enough. It would never be enough. The freckled fool had saved his life more times than he cared to count, and he’d only just learned now that Deku was suffering in his own private hell. “When did it start?”

“Oh, I’ve had problems with my hearing since middle school.” Izuku stated flatly. Sitting up from the floor to lean against the wall. “Turns out, all that childhood trauma and being the target of the League of Villains was the opposite of what the doctor ordered.”

“Will you...uh…” Katsuki paused, unsure how to ask the question. Unsure if he wanted the answer.

“Will I what?”

“Will you eventually...go…”

“Go deaf?” Izuku snapped. He took a deep breath. Eyes burning a hole into the floor. “I’m already more than halfway there. There’s no guarantee I’ll lose the rest of my hearing, but chances are high and they know they can’t fix what I’ve already lost. The internal damage to my left ear is too extensive. If I decide to stick to Hero Work there’s a higher risk I could lose my hearing entirely.”

“Why not quit?” Katsuki queried. Regret flooded his chest before he even asked the question. Katsuki already knew the answer. It was the same as his, it had always been the same as his.

“Being a hero is the only thing I’ve ever wanted out of life. It’s my reason for getting out of bed, my reason for breathing. Hero Work is my reason for living.”

Katsuki cringed, tears slipping from their perilous perch.

“I should be the one crying.”

“You're probably right.” Katsuki choked, hiding his eyes with his hand as tears ran silent paths down heated cheeks. He knew he had no right to cry. That he had been the one who hurt Deku, but he couldn’t stop the tears once they had started. Couldn’t deny the fact that being screamed at by one of the most gentle people he knew had sent his mind back to the nights at home with his father. Couldn’t help the fact that somehow he didn’t feel as alone in his own helter-skelter life.

Both boys sat quietly in the dark. The only light in the room coming from the setting sun that was slipping from sight through the window.

“I just never understood,” Izuku began again, quiet and soft, “I never understood why you changed Kacchan.” The old nickname resurfacing for the first time in a long while.

“Being friends with the quirkless kid wasn’t easy, you know.” Katsuki said quietly. He had calmed down, wiping his damp cheeks against his shoulders. 

“Wait?! Are you seriously blaming me?”

“You weren’t the only kid who was trying to deal with a bunch of shitty ass problems they had no control over either.”

“You are blaming me! What the fuck Katsuki?!” 

The red eyed teen held up a hand as he continued, “It was survival of the quirked Deku and I wasn’t going to sit around and let the goddamn world eat me alive! So, I did what I thought I had to and made you the center of everyone's attention. As I got older, I figured if all the eyes were on you, then they didn’t have to be on me. I could finally find peace and escape from the shit I had going on. I never meant to hurt you, not at first, but I fucking lost sight of everything. As the years went on I stopped paying attention to what I was doing to survive. I lost sight of myself. I’m sorry.”

Looking towards Izuku, red eyes met green. He could tell that Izuku had listened to what he had said, though he doubted it would make much difference in the long run.

“What are you even talking about Katsuki?” Green brows furrowing, “Yo-you had everything growing up. A great quirk, parents that loved you, friends that followed you everywhere. What could you have possibly wanted that made you so cruel.” Izuku speculated, the shine in his eyes darkening as he tried to understand what Katsuki was telling him.

“My family’s always been good at keeping up appearances. That shouldn’t come as a surprise to you. As you said, you know every goddamn thing about me.”

“Don’t turn this around on me.”

“Look. Are you willing to let me explain? Or would you rather I just leave? I imagine you told me what you brought me here to tell me. It’s clear now that whatever friendship or rivalry I thought we had, was just some fucked up figment of my imagination.” His voice caught again in his throat. It hurt to admit that the person he viewed as a friend , as a rival , hadn’t been viewing him the same way. That the one constant he thought he had, was ready to abandon him to an unforgiving abyss from which he’d been trying desperately to escape.

Izuku gathered what strength he could and pulled himself up from the ground. Steadily he walked towards the couch Katsuki was sitting on and sat across from him. Bringing his knees to his chest, he rested his head in his arms and waited quietly. 

The blond gave a low huff, “You always were too nice for your own damn good and we both know that I don’t fucking deserve the chance to explain, so thanks.” Katsuki said gruffly as green eyes reconnected with red. Izuku said nothing, simply stared and continued to wait.

“You’re right, when we were kids our friendship started because of our mothers. To be honest there’s not a lot I remember from the beginning, but when I turned four and started manifesting my quirk I thought anything was possible. I was excited for any number of reasons, but what I wanted more than anything was to show my best friend first.” Katsuki looked up from staring at the palms of his hands. He found himself hoping that Deku was watching him, listening, but instead Deku had his head curled up in his arms. Legs pulled in close.

“Do you remember how excited you and the others were the first time I showed you? We spent months after that waiting for you to manifest, but it never came.” 

Katsuki gave a deep sigh, a rare sound - almost as rare as the tears he had shed earlier, or the thanks he’d given Izuku. “Did you know that my mom was the first person Auntie Inko called when she found out about you?”

Izuku’s shoulders tensed, his fingers digging into the fabric of his sweater. “No,” he whispered.

“Well she was. I could hear Auntie crying over the phone, saying your name. My mother had cried along with her, but when she hung up the phone you should have seen her. She was a mess. My father got so upset at the news, that he forbade me from even talking about you. No Bakugo was going to have anything to do with the quirkless, god forbid the media got wind of the situation. Mom still tried to visit Auntie Inko at every opportunity, with me in tow, but once dad found out a few years later, he got mad, Deku. Really fucking mad. My father was more concerned with his company's reputation than about me or my mother’s emotional state. Seems like such a trivial thing for him to react to now. Back then I didn’t understand what was going on. My mind blamed you for my father’s behavior and I hated you for it Deku. Hated you and your lack of quirk.” 

“Did that...really happen?” Izuku asked, resting his chin on his arms. 

“What possible reason would I have to lie about shit like that? Huh!” Katsuki chuffed. “It didn’t stop there either. Things got worse at home. Dad kept putting pressure on me to succeed and Mom didn’t put dad in his place until I was nearly twelve. By then my entire personality had become warped. I was - am - angry all the time, but the counseling Aizawa set up for me helps.” Katsuki squirmed uncomfortably. He hated talking about his personal life. School was school, and home was home. There was no reason for the two things to mix, but he felt he owed the freckled nerd an explanation.

“I felt hopeless and then you were just there. Somehow when my life felt like it was falling down around me, you were there following me around with this moronic smile spread across your face. Always trying to help, not knowing that I hated everything you stood for because I thought you were the reason my mother was always upset and that my father was constantly cruel. It just didn’t seem fair Deku. You never once left me alone and it made me angry. When you weren’t there, and I thought you abandoned me, I was just as angry. There was no winning.” 

Looking across from him, Katsuki could see that Izuku was watching him. His emerald green eyes swimming behind a fresh set of tears.

“Don’t you dare cry Deku, we both know it wasn’t actually your fault. I was an ass. I had - have - problems and you were my way of escaping from a shitty home life and a bunch of medical bullshit that I didn’t know how to fucking cope with, okay? If I’d realized sooner, maybe I would have changed my attitude but to be honest it’s not a conversation that I ever thought I was going to have with myself - let alone anyone else.”

Wiping his eyes on his sleeve, Izuku looked at Katsuki and could see he was fairing little better than himself at keeping the tears at bay.

“We both know I was cruel. I went too far while trying to prove that I was better than everyone else. I had a one track mind. Hell, I still do. Number One Hero Katsuki Bakugo. That’s the dream - I didn’t care who I had to step on to get to the top. Now the only people I talk to are Shitty Hair and the other extras in our class. On top of that I’ve hurt you in ways that I can never truly reconcile. I could say sorry every day for the rest of my life and I’d still never be close to worthy of your forgiveness.” Katsuki hid his face as silent tears slid down his cheeks. 

“Hell Deku, I told you to take a swan dive off the school roof. I can’t even... I ca-can’t even imagine what would h-ha-have happened if you’d listened to m-me.” The flood gates broke as Katsuki choked on his sentence. The fear and pain of his past actions, evident in his eyes.

Showing such raw emotions was against everything he had learned growing up. It was a sign of weakness and Katsuki wasn’t weak. He knew he wasn’t. There were no tears shed when Deku had injured himself, when the League had kidnapped him, when they’d lost friends in futile fights. So Katsuki was confused, he didn’t understand why he couldn’t get his tears to stop.

Katsuki pressed the back of his hands to his eyes. The weight in the couch shifted and without warning he found himself wrapped in the toned arms of the green haired teen who had been sitting across from him.

“I’m sorry Kacchan,” Izuku whispered into his shoulder. 

Katsuki hesitated before he wrapped his arms around Deku’s waist and pulled him in, hugging him deeply. “For what, you damn nerd. I told you. This is my fault, not yours.”

“Doesn’t matter, I’m still sorry.” 

“Ya, me too Izuku, me too.”

Izuku loosened his grip around Katsuki’s shoulders, “What did you just call me?” 

Katsuki tensed, realizing he’d used the nerd's actual name. “Nothing.”

Izuku hid a small smile as he returned to his spot on the other side of the couch. They sat in silence for several minutes before Katsuki began fidgeting with the breast pocket of his blazer. “There’s one more thing you should know,” he said hesitantly as he retrieved whatever he had been digging for inside the pocket. He reached across the couch and grabbed Izuku’s hand pulling it towards him, waiting for him to unclench his fingers. When Izuku finally laid his hand flat, Katsuki placed the items in the other’s palm and curled the scarred fingers closed again.

Confused but curious, Izuku brought his hand back towards himself and opened it. A small look of displeasure on his face as he glared at Katsuki.

“Is this some kind of joke to you?” He asked, upset. “You overhear the doctors talking and think this would make some kind of a good gag? I actually thought we were getting somewhere for once. I fucking believed yo--”

“They’re mine.” Bakugo bit out bitterly, turning his head into his shoulder.

Izuku paused, frozen while he let his brain draw its own conclusion from the new information. The realization set in soon after and an expression of horror spread across his face. Was this the medical issue he mentioned earlier? How long has he had these? Why have I never seen these before? His brain churned out questions one after the other.

“I’ve had mine since I was little, fucked around too much when I was learning to handle my quirk. Turns out my hearing and my quirk aren’t the most compatible. The only person who knows about them is my mom.”

“Oh.” Izuku responded, not realizing he had asked his questions aloud. It was a habit he was going to have to break. “I’m sorry Katsuki. Your - Your dad doesn’t know?”

“Tch. Don’t apologize for something that isn’t your fault - and no, my dad doesn’t know. He would see it as a sign of weakness. There’s a reason we don’t talk.”

Izuku sat quietly, rolling the hearing aids back and forth in his fingers before handing them back to the blond. His head returned to its resting place on his arms, which sat atop his knees. 

“I’ve never seen you wearing them,” Izuku said quietly, unsure of where to steer the conversation or of how the red eyed teen would react.

Katsuki gave a soft grumble, “I’ve never seen you wear yours either. Stupid Deku.”

“Touche. I only have the one, hidden beneath the curls.” He shrugged, like it wasn’t a big deal. “I don’t wear it in the dorms or the classroom. I - uh - I  don’t want the others to know.”

Izuku’s eyes gazed towards Bakugo and waited patiently for the blond to explain.

“I don’t really wear them. Don’t get me wrong, they help, I just find them uncomfortable. It’s a pain in the ass to take them out and put in the ear plugs too.”

“Ear plugs?”

“To prevent further damage…during training...obviously. Aren’t nerds supposed to be smart?” Katsuki scoffed, rolling his eyes with a small unexpected chuckle.

The green haired teen nodded in understanding, ignoring Katsuki’s remark. He knew exactly what the blond meant about uncomfortable. “So only your mom knows? None of - of the teachers?” 

Bakugo nodded hesitantly. It was odd to discuss this with someone after such a long time keeping it to himself. “None of their damn business.” He eyed the other teen suspiciously, raising his eyebrow. “What about you?”

“Oh--uh--well, my list is a little more extensive. Especially...especially since what happened with the league.” Izuku mumbled, his eyes falling to stare at the dust bunnies that covered the couch cushions. “Our teachers know, but only the ones that teach our class. Principal Nezu and Recovery Girl know too, for obvious reasons. Mom and then A-A-All M-M-M-Mig--.” 

The tears set in and Izuku found he couldn’t finish his sentence. His mind was reeling as realization struck him. While he knew All Might was in the hospital, only now had the memory resurfaced in Izuku’s mind of Recovery Girl mentioning something about All Might having slipped into a coma as a result of his injuries from the fight. A fact he had failed to recall during his various attempts to visit the retired pro. Izuku’s form crumbled in on itself again and he could feel Bakugo wrap his arms around him. 

The red eyed teen knew there was nothing he could say that would comfort the boy in his arms. There had been a lot going on over the last several days and he had also found himself lost and confused with the news of his hero's condition. So he sat there hugging Izuku, running a hand up and down his back; unlike the awkward warm hug earlier, this hug felt cold and empty. 

They sat there in silence until Izuku’s breathing leveled out and he pulled away from Katsuki, apologizing again as he rubbed at puffy red eyes and wiped at his nose in desperate need of a tissue. Instead of addressing the state of their favorite pro-hero they settled into a conversation riddled with small talk and as the hours stretched on they spoke of home, and childhood memories, whispered about future dreams and goals they had set for themselves. It made for a long night and an early morning but they finally started repairing that aforementioned dilapidated bridge.

As often as they could, Katsuki and Izuku met in the abandoned dorm room to talk with one another. No walls up, no blame placed on either teens shoulders. They just talked. The night All Might passed. They cried. 

Izuku woke to the vibrations and alarm of his phone. His hands wiping at the fresh trails of tears on his cheeks. As he sat up in bed his eyes wandered towards the photo that sat on his desk; All Might’s arms wrapped around the shoulders of a grumpy Katsuki and a beaming Izuku after they had successfully completed their first year at U.A.

After making his way to the washroom, Izuku looked at himself in the mirror - eyes falling on a familiar reflection of tear stained cheeks and disheveled hair. Eleven months had passed since then. They’d completed their second year and were close to finishing their third. Izuku had to bite back tears as he retrieved the face cloth from the bathroom cupboard. Katsuki would be less than thrilled to see that he was crying again. Izuku wet down the cloth and wiped at his face. When the evidence of his slumber was gone he changed out of his uniform, throwing on a set of joggers and a loose white t-shirt that read ‘Broccoli’. Stomach grumbling, he headed down to the kitchen for supper.

Thankfully cooking was not one of the tasks for which Izuku was responsible. The entire dorm had learned that he was a terrible cook after the macaroni omelet incident their first year. To prevent a repeat Katsuki had traded his cleaning shifts for Izuku’s cooking shifts. Izuku had been more than willing to oblige, to the unabashed relief of his dorm mates. 

Tonight it was Aoyama’s turn to cook, which meant supper was likely some kind of cheese related dish. As Izuku approached the kitchen he could smell grilled cheese sandwiches and soup. Not the first thing he thought of when he thought of Aoyama’s refined pallet but he wasn’t going to complain. He was surprised when he rounded the corner and found Uraraka and Tsu cooking. 

“Hi Midoriya” Tsu croaked. “Hope you like grilled cheese sandwiches and mushroom soup, Aoyama had an upset stomach after practice today so he’s resting.”

Izuku nodded in understanding, “Not a problem Tsu. Anything I can do to help?”

Uraraka and Tsu stole a glance at one another, “Uh...we don’t need any help cooking. Thank you for offering though.” Uraraka said with an awkward smile.

“I was thinking more along the lines of doing the dishes,” Izuku stated between giggles.

“Oh! Sure, that would be great. Thank you.”

Izuku nodded and sat down to eat. When everyone was finished he tidied the kitchen and cleaned the dishes. Afterwards Izuku headed to the main lounge and plopped himself down on one of the couches. A few of his classmates greeted him before carrying on their conversation. Izuku just sat there watching them interact with one another, he hadn’t taken the time to hang out much this year and felt awkward when he tried to include himself in dorm activities. Besides, tonight was a Katsuki night, and he was looking forward to it. Over the last month he and Katsuki hadn’t had a chance to catch up; between the Hero Work Studies and their constant run-ins with various villains their schedules were either too full or entirely non-compatible. 

Izuku felt his phone vibrate in his pocket. Reaching to grab it he saw a text from Katsuki.

Kacchan

C U in 10?

Feeling a smile stretch across his scarred lips Izuku replied in earnest, fingers sailing across the small touch screen.

C u in 10!

Good. 

I...I have a surprise.

A surprise?!

See you in 5!

A laugh escaped him as he put his phone away and headed for the fourth floor. He swore he could feel the confused glances of his classmates on his back, but he ignored the feeling.

Katsuki tucked his phone into his pocket, left his dorm room and headed out to meet Izuku. He was looking forward to the night's impending conversations. It was nice to spend time with a friend other than Shitty Hair and the Bakusquad. Besides, Katsuki had a surprise for Deku tonight and he was excited to show him.

When he returned from his Friday night conversation with Katsuki, Izuku fell into bed, a large grin plastered across his face and exhaustion setting into his limbs.

They’d talked until the late hours of the evening. Katsuki had greeted him in sign language and worked hard to keep the conversation going for as long as he could. Izuku had been so surprised he’d nearly started crying for the second time that night, to which Katsuki had quickly put an end. According to Katsuki, he’d been teaching himself to sign since Izuku had told him about his hearing. He hadn’t wanted to say anything on the off chance that he had learned to form his signs incorrectly or that he had learned a different form of sign language than Izuku. Katsuki had, of course, managed to learn every swear word known to man. All in all though, Izuku thought Katsuki had done an excellent job. A little bumpy at first, likely from nerves, but he could tell how hard the other teen had studied to surprise Izuku. What the green eyed teen enjoyed most was the eye contact that Katsuki was forced to maintain. Strangely, it filled an unexpected need in Izuku, almost calming him somehow.

Panic suddenly set in. Wait a minute...if Katsuki can sign then does that mean that - oh god how long has Katsuki been able to understand what Hitoshi and I have been saying in the halls and the cafeterias when we thought no one was watching. Has he been watching us as some strange way of studying?

Izuku pushed his head into the mattress groaning. He made a mental note to inform Hitoshi when he saw him again, but at the moment he had no time to let his mind wander with semi-petty concerns. In seven hours he had to be awake, showered, dressed and packed - which he’d already done - for the competition so that he and Denki could meet up with the studio bus and catch a lift to the performance hall in Nagano City. With that in mind, Izuku got ready for bed and crawled between the sheets. With his alarm set and a quick reminder text to Mei about getting some rest and meeting the boys in the morning, Izuku soon fell asleep. What little dreaming he did, was almost entirely of violet eyes and aerialist routines. Almost.

Chapter Text

If there was one thing they hated doing, it was dressing as a woman. They’d spent enough time trying to escape their female identity and somehow in a single sentence their parents had dragged them straight back into the hellscape. The gender dysphoria today was extreme, every time they caught a glimpse of themself in the mirror they had to remind themself that what they were wearing was a costume. It did little to dissuade the sense of discomfort they felt in their own skin, but they were trying and that had to count for something.

On top of that they were tired, they’d spent several hours talking at the diner last night about shit, that frankly, they hadn’t planned on confronting for a while, let alone the night before having to deal with family drama. It got the lightning bug off their back though, and technically their front, so that was good. Right?

In the end, it hadn’t been as bad as they had expected it to be. Kaminari had been polite and understanding, which had been rather endearing but unanticipated. They had expected the evening to be awkward and filled with tension - which it had been, but for entirely different reasons. Neito had spent months watching the electric man short circuit every time he caught a glimpse at where Neito was sitting, or talking, or reading. At first it had been insufferable until Neito had caught themself watching the other back. They had stolen glances in between parts of conversation and they had observed the way the yellow eyed teen interacted with everyone. Watched until they found that on the days where they couldn’t locate the other, they were crankier and more boisterous than usual. Their friends had noticed too, and teased Neito mercilessly. 

After having observed Kaminari for months, Neito thought they knew him well. Knew he was loud, fun, flirty and energetic. Knew that he worked hard, trained harder and was grateful for what he had earned. Neito wasn’t stupid, they had also observed the young man’s innate ability to gossip about anything and anyone. Which is what made it difficult to talk to him. They had secrets of their own, secrets they didn’t want shared around the cafeteria table like the latest trending hero video. 

Neito had thought that Kaminari was a horrible secret keeper, then they’d learned last night amid burgers, fries, and conversation that it was a poor misconception on their part. It was even more apparent when Neito, as they watched for their younger sister’s bus, unintentionally spotted the blond exiting from another bus in the same lot. They had done a double take, then a triple, and began to wonder if they knew anything about the man at all outside of what they had learned about him from school. 

That was when Neito spotted a new problem, a pair of problems, a green problem and a pink problem. Two problems that complicated Neito’s weekend beyond it’s already stretched limitations. It was one thing if Kaminari accidently saw them dressed as they were; they’d discussed a wide variety of topics the previous night and had shared certain details. It wouldn’t be hard for the boy to put two and two together. It was an entirely different problem if All Might’s personal pet project and his cotton candy coloured companion saw them too. The last thing Neito needed to worry about was being questioned. God if there’s one thing Midoriya knew how to do, it was to ask streams of never ending questions. Hatsume’s no better.

Neito excused themself, citing the washroom as an excuse before heading towards the performance hall. Inside of their head they were screaming at themself, telling themself they should have come up with some lame excuse not to attend the competition today. While somehow, simultaneously telling themself that these outcomes were not their fault. How was I supposed to know that anyone from the school would be here today? The sign for the washroom hung in the hall like a beacon summoning Neito forth and they found their pace increasing. As they rounded the corner into the washroom, they dashed towards the nearest unoccupied stall, slammed the door closed behind them and leaned back against the cold metal surface. 

Fingers pinched at the bridge of their nose, trying to fight off the early signs of a headache. This is a literal nightmare. I should have lied and told my family I had the flu, I don’t even have a reason for being here. Neito hated spending time with any family aside from their older sister. The family treated them like some kind of two headed creature from a dank lagoon. When they were in public, everything looked fine as they plastered fake smiles on their faces and played pretend, but Neito knew better. Knew that they were the family black sheep and that the family was waiting for the moment to lead the sheep to slaughter. Neito had tried everything to avoid their family, and aside from occasions like this - these small family events - they had succeeded. Why did the brat need to take up a new sport anyways. Every damn year she picks something new.  

Neito focused on the clammy feel of the stall door against their hand, listened to the sounds of the empty washroom and heaved a heavy sigh as they set their mind back on track. At the moment their family wasn’t the problem, Kaminari’s friends were. As they tried to build their confidence up, the thought occurred to them that there was an entire crowd of people out there, they doubted anyone would notice a single blond. No one from school had ever met their family and while they were well-to-do they were by no means famous, so there was no reason anyone looking at them with their parents wouldn't just assume that they were two completely different people. What exactly am I trying to convince myself of?

Taking a deep breath in, Neito slowly exhaled. If they had been at school they would have simply screamed across the lot, drawn everyone's attention to them and put on some kind of strange little show as they shouted about their class's superiority. They also would have been wearing the male school uniform, which would have prevented the entire collection of problematic scenarios running through their head. This isn’t school . I have no reason to draw anyone's attention to me, and I’m dressed as a woman. They inhaled another deep breath, found it did nothing, and followed it with another, and another, and another. Once they had calmed down enough to think rationally they exited the bathroom stall and washed their hands in the sink. 

Neito kept glancing at themself in the mirror. As they stood back, they took in their appearance, growing slightly more confident that anyone from school would not recognize them, while simultaneously cringing at their outward appearance. The clothes were fine; they were wearing a pair of knee high white socks, tucked into black mary janes. They wore a black skort with aqua detailing and a knee length skirt. A small fashion blessing, but one that Neito was personally grateful for at the moment. Today they had needed to opt out of their binder, so a small bit of cleavage showed through the opening of an aqua blue button up blouse; the most uncomfortable part of the outfit outside of the extensions. The platinum blond extensions that seamlessly melded into Neito’s normal short hairstyle created a false length that ended just above their hips.

I should be fine. They thought . No one will recognize me like this. I’ll be fine. Just don’t act like I would at school. Don’t act like myself. Don’t be a cocky little shit. Don’t be a cocky little shit. Neito repeated the phrase over and over in their head like a mantra. Taking a few more deep breaths, they calmed down enough to return to the unloading area where they had left their parents. When they reunited with the family they noticed their sister’s bus had arrived and dropped the little darling off. When she caught sight of Neito she squealed in excitement, a false smile gluing her little cherub cheeks into place. “Sister you came!” she cried.

“Of course!” They cringed inwardly at the use of the word sister. “I wouldn’t miss it!” Neito spoke effortlessly, an equally disingenuous smile plastered on their features. “Where is the rest of your team?” 

“Already inside, I really must get going. You promise to watch my performances today? All of them?” Her eyelashes fluttered as she put on one of her cute little acts.

“Dearest sister, I live to watch you perform. I can’t wait to see you on stage. How many routines this year?” 

“Two! Singles Quirked and Singles Quirkless today, Duo’s are tomorrow but I won’t be participating in those.” 

“Then you best run along, I would hate to see you late for a performance.” 

She smiled at Naito before bidding her parents goodbye and running to find her company. When their mother commented that they should go in and find their seats, their father agreed wholeheartedly and Neito followed begrudgingly. To their utter horror, their parents had reserved seats near the front of the stage, on the second level. Neito felt like they were suddenly on display. On any other given day they would have loved the attention, today they felt like every pair of eyes around the room was staring daggers at them. Today they wished they had borrowed the powers of that invisible 3A student, just so they could disappear. Not that they needed any help from 3A.

As Neito and their family sat quietly, others began to enter from every direction, filing into their seats, preparing for the routines to begin some time in the next twenty minutes. What the blue eyed teen had earlier referred to as a stage, was in fact several times larger and far more encompassing. 

The performance hall had an open floor plan and a coliseum style seating arrangement. There were seats available on several different levels, the performance space viewable from every angle in the room. While Neito and their family were sat centre stage they were still several levels above the ground. From what Neito could make out, it appeared that the various aerialist clubs sat in the ground floor area. Without meaning to, they found themself searching for the distinctive hair of one individual. Upon realizing what they were doing, Neito gave a deep sigh and let their mind drift back to the previous evening's events while they waited for their sisters' turn to perform.

----

Why they had ever agreed to meet Kaminari, at night, in public was beyond them. They had really only wanted to shut him up before he said something he shouldn't have. It would be no effort to turn around and head back to the dorms, it was a ten minute walk at best, even if it was colder than a witch’s tit. For some reason they found that their legs continued to carry them towards the Jericho Diner. When it came into view, Monoma immediately noticed through the large glass window that Kaminari was already sitting at the counter, arms crossed in front of him as he bobbed his knee up and down.

It isn’t even eight yet. Why is he so early ? Monoma thought to themself, as they paced back and forth in front of the diner doors. You can still leave, you don’t have to stay . Right? Right! They didn’t have to stay, but again their body betrayed them as they walked through the front doors towards the counter and the fidgety blond.

“I’m sorry, I’m saving that seat for someo...”

“It’s me dumbass,” Monoma hissed, as they took a seat on the stool next to Kaminari.

“Oh hey! You’re early. Glad you decided to come, thanks for not bailing.” His grin was electric, his right hand making a little finger gun towards the smaller blond.

Rolling their eyes, Monoma gave Kaminari a stare that spoke volumes. “ I’m early? You're early! What the hell are you even doing here?” They continued to whisper.

“I...uh...got nervous. I’ve been here since six.” Kaminari admitted sheepishly, the slightest bit of red permeating his cheeks. “Didn’t want to get started on anything and lose track of time.”

“You didn’t want to lose tr--. Wait, did you say six?” Monoma gaped, temporarily mortified at the others' confession. “You’ve been waiting nearly two hours!? Why didn’t you text me?”

Kaminari nodded, refusing to meet Monoma’s eyes. Cheeks flushing a heavier shade of red. “Don’t worry about it, like I said, nerves. I figured you had better things to do.”

Monoma studied the yellow eyed individual, curious about why he was acting so timidly. Shaking the feeling, Monoma started to talk again. “So, what did you want to talk about?”

“Uh...before we get to that, are you hungry? I haven’t eaten yet. Also I asked for a table at the back, in case you were concerned someone would see us.” 

That was sweet of him. I am pretty hungry...no! No! You only came to talk. They thought to themselves, as they refused to question how someone who sat in a diner for two hours had not ordered food. “I could eat. Table at the back sounds great.” What the hell!

With minimal effort they flagged down the waitress to inquire about their table. The waitress gave the two teens an odd look, and told them to follow her. Kaminari and Monoma did as instructed and followed her to a small booth at the back, away from the windows and began to look over the menu.

“Can I get you two anything to drink?” The waitress inquired, eying them both strangely. 

“Water for me, Monoma?” 

“Same. Thank you.” 

The waitress bobbed her head, a small smile on her features and walked away from the table. They sat quiet and awkward for several minutes before Monoma spoke up.

“Are you going to tell me or do I have to drag it out of you?”

“Drag what out of me?” Kaminari asked, a confused expression flitting across his features. 

Monoma gapped, “You can’t be serious, I literally asked the question before we walked over here. What are you, a goldfish?!”

“Oh. Uh...no I just thought you wanted to wait until we weren’t going to be interrupted by the wait staff. Make things a little less awkward; no prying eyes or strange ears listening into our conversation.” Denki flushed again, resting his head on a gloved hand. “If you want to start now though, we can do that too.”

“No. Umm, well, no. You’ve made a good point.” Monoma stopped talking, lifting the menu to block the glouer on their face from the other teen across the table. 

It was then that the waitress walked up and took their order, eyes yet again staring at the two. It was beginning to irk Monoma, Kaminari paid it no mind. They quickly placed their orders, handed over their menus to the waitress and waited. Except, this time the waitress wasn’t leaving. 

“Can we help you?” The blue eyed teen asked tersely. The other teen’s brow arched in surprise at the tone.

“Oh..uh, well you see.” She said as she turned towards Kaminari, “I thought you were w-w-waiting for a-date-and-I-was-wondering-if-maybe you-were-free?” She mumbled quickly as she locked eyes with Kaminari. 

The blond man knit his brows together, frustrated by the actions of the waitress. Her audacity was in a league of its own. “I’m flattered.” He said flatly. “I’m also not interested. Maintain some professionalism, please.”  

Monoma’s eyebrows rose. That was...blunt. Blue eyes darted between the electric teen and the waitress. They could see the hurt in the young woman's eyes, but she simply nodded in understanding before leaving the two to themselves. Now that the pair was without their menus, they were forced to look at one another, which they refused to do, so they stared at the table instead.

“You can be quite curt, I’m surprised.” Monoma stated as they raised their eyes to glance at Kaminari and took a small sip of water.

Kaminari rubbed the back of his neck with a gloved hand. “Eventually you get tired of people asking for shit. After you start doing hero work you wonder who's a fan and who isn’t and it just makes things awkward as hell. If I was interested I’d ask. You know?”

“Entirely too much, though I’m surprised you turned her down. Your reputation at school makes you out to be a bit...eh.” Monoma paused to wave a hand back and forth in a so-so gesture. 

Kaminari rolled his eyes, “My school reputation can go die in a ditch somewhere. I’ve only ever dated like two people, I don’t know how those rumors started. Besides that’s not exactly relevant at the moment, is it?”

Monoma shrugged with a slight flush, “Everything is relevant eventually.”

“Sooo how are classes going?” Kaminari asked in a poorly disguised attempt to change the topic. Real subtle Denks. Just the smoothest. He thought, groaning inwardly.

Monoma didn’t answer immediately, stealing a small glance towards the blond across the table. 

“Not too bad. We’ve had the same expectations since our first year, we’ve just taken on more responsibility. It should be easier now that our Work Study is finished.”

“Hehe yeah, I guess that’s true. Maybe I just have one too many extracurriculars on my schedule.” Kaminari gave a small smirk as he dropped his eyes back to the table.

“Extracurriculars? I thought we had to get special permission to leave the campus, how are you doing extracurricular activities?” Monoma inquired indignantly.

“Oh!” Kaminari groaned, forgetting for a short moment that he wasn’t supposed to be sharing certain details about his personal life. “Uh, nevermind, forget I said anything.” He pressed his hands together in a prayer gesture. “ Couldn’t tell you if I wanted to anyways.”

Naito scoffed and raised an eyebrow as he stared Kaminari down from across the table. He’s the one that wants to talk about last weekend, and who let details about his personal life slip, moron. “Whatever.”

Not being one to beat around the bush, Monoma crossed their arms and leaned into the table. “You seem kind of nervous. Not that I’m worried, but are you okay? You’ve been bouncing that damn leg of yours since before I got here.” They asked.

Kaminari nodded, pressing his lips together. “Yup. Fine. Nervous habit,” he croaked. 

The platinum head across the table shook in disbelief, “You are an appalling liar.”

“Am not.”

“Are too!”

“Am not!

“Yes you are!”

“No. I. Am. Not” Kaminari grumbled, his voice lowering.

Surprise spread across Monoma’s face as they slouched into their seat, rolling their eyes at the other blond before they broke eye contact and looked towards the wall, a small blush building along their neck.

Monoma watched from the corner of their eye, as the lightning bug ran a gloved hand down his face while releasing a deep sigh. Kaminari kept looking out over the restaurant with what looked like desperation for an interruption. Why the hell is he wearing leather gloves in a restaurant? I thought he was going to take them off, but they’re still there. They’d noticed them when the teen had made the weird finger gun motion earlier and hadn’t thought to ask.

Before they got the chance, their food arrived and was placed on the table by a different server than the one they had been helped by earlier. Monoma waited patiently for the new waitress to leave before picking up their burger and digging in.

“So about last weekend,” Kaminari began, “I haven’t told anyone. Just so you’re aware. Full disclosure though, Midoriya saw us leave...or rather saw me leave and put two and two together.” 

“He what…” Monoma inquired, tone flat, face emotionless.

“Saw me leave the bar after you did...through the back door.”

“How did he even notice? Who has he told?”

“Well according to the source himself, he doesn’t drink and when he gets bored he watches people. He hasn’t told anyone, I trust him when he says that too. Izuku was just observing from a distance.”

“Remind me to never drink again,” Monoma whined as they took a bite out of their burger.

Kaminari chuckled.

“W..u..?” They asked through a mouthful of burger. 

“Nothing. Just think you might be worried over nothing. What exactly do you think happened?”

Swallowing their second bite of burger, Monoma eyed the lightning bug carefully. “Well, I remember leaving with everyone and heading to the bar up the street. We did a round or two of shots, I had a cooler and danced for a while. Then everything gets a bit fuzzy. I think I went to the bar for another drink, but then I was getting dizzy so I stepped outside for some air. When I woke up I was in my dorm in different clothes, and you were on the floor in your boxers.” A deep flush spread across their cheeks as they finished their recollection of the previous Saturday’s evening in a whisper. 

Kaminari stared at the blond across from him blankly, not entirely sure where to start. The majority of Monoma’s recall was fairly accurate, except for that last bit. “Where do you want me to start?” He asked, hoping the other teen could offer some guidance. 

Monoma paused, unprepared for the direction in the conversation. “What do you mean? You wanted to talk about this, I just want to forget it ever happened.”

“I don’t think...You know what? I’m just going to start at the beginning. That seems like the easiest thing to do.” 

So that’s what Kaminari did, he started off with how the night began and walked Monoma through each of the events that had transpired.

“We left for the bar around eight in the evening, just as we planned. Our class met up with your class outside of the school gate. The night was supposed to be one last celebration before beginning our final Hero Work Study next month, but if we’re being honest I think all of us just needed the break.”

“I remember this part, Kaminari. My memory isn’t that bad after a few drinks.”

Kaminari released a chuckle and continued. “We got to the bar about quarter past eight and found a few tables in the back that hadn’t been occupied yet. Most of us dropped off our bags and our coats so that we weren’t lugging them around all evening. Midoriya and I slid into one of the booths and spent most of the night observing. As I mentioned before Midoriya doesn’t drink and I try not to drink the week before a com...uh, nevermind. Anyways, as I said we spent most of the night watching everyone. At some point or another I left the booth to dance with a few friends, afterwards you all grabbed a few rounds of shots. Mina and a few of the girls came back to the table with me and we sat down to chat. Probably an hour later I saw you go over to the bar for that cooler you mentioned.”

Monoma nodded again, motioning with his index finger in a circular motion that told the other he needed to hurry up.

“When the girls got back on the dance floor you grabbed your second drink and sat down with your classmates. About a half hour later, the bartender brought you another beverage and if I heard him correctly he said it was from some random dude sitting at the bar.”

“Wait what. I don’t...I don’t remember that part.”

Kaminari watched the small blond’s expressions before continuing again. “You accepted the drink and made quite the scene when your classmates started teasing you.” Kaminari pulled out his phone to show Monoma pictures of the night in question. One particular photo showed the blue eyed teen with a single leg hiked up on the table like they were some kind of pirate. They looked to be laughing maniacally and Monoma couldn’t help but let out a groan. 

“That gifted drink didn’t seem to go down as smoothly as the others; when you stood up you seemed unsteady on your feet and excused yourself to step outside. I thought one of the others would go with you, but no one offered. When you went out the back door, that’s when I realized what was going on.”

Long pale fingers wrapped around the water glass tightly. “What do you mean?” 

“When you left, one of the guys at the bar got weird. He followed you out and it didn’t sit right with me so I waited a few minutes and followed him out of the bar.” Kaminari paused, not sure if Monoma wanted him to continue.

“And!?” 

“Well, when I came outside he was standing over you. I’m not sure how you ended up on the ground, but your front was covered in vomit. I acted without thinking when I s-saw where his h-hands were.” Kaminari’s brow was drawing together, his eyes darkening as he gritted his teeth. 

“W-what? W-w-where were h-his h-hands. You’re freaking me out Kaminari. Quit pausing.” 

Glaring at the table, Kaminari resumed the story, his voice taking on a deeper tone, “When I saw him, his hands were working at pulling down your pants. So I electrocuted him, nothing deadly, but probably stronger than he needed. All I know is I knocked his ass out . Afterwards I fixed your pants and tried to wake you up, but you were out cold. I was worried, so I took you back to the dorm, using your phone to send Tendo a text that said you weren’t well and had taken a taxi home. Which wasn’t a complete lie, we did take a taxi back to the dorms.”

“Oh. Um. Thank you.” 

Kaminari shook his head, waving his hands in front of his face. “No, don’t thank me. Heroes are supposed to step in when they’re needed. I was just doing what I was supposed to be doing.”

“Heroes don’t observe people in bars instead of enjoying themselves and taking a hard earned break.”

This time Kaminari flushed, dropping his gaze to the table. “I was enjoying myself, at least up until that last little bit.” 

“Oh.” The smaller blond said, eyes widening in surprise. “Uuuhh…okay.” Mumbling quietly Monoma tried to move the recollection of the nights’ events forward. “So then how did we both end up u-u-undressed in my dorm room?”

Kaminari released a deep sigh and picked up the story where he had left off. “It’s not what you think. We got back to the school and I thought it would be better to take you to your dorm room, rather than waking up somewhere unfamiliar. I fished your key out of your pocket, read the number etched into it and took you to your room.” The blond shrugged. “When we got upstairs I changed your shirt. I d-didn’t think you’d want to w-wake up covered in vomit. I’d gotten your s-shirt off before I r-realized you were wearing a b-b-b...”

“A binder. They’re called binders.” Monoma groaned into their hands, frustrated that they even had to explain this. 

“I know what they’re called.”

“What?” They asked, not completely taking in that piece of information. 

“I know what a binder is, I’ve got a friend that wears them. What did you think I was going to say?”

“Bra.” They said plainly, shrugging their shoulders as they looked across the table at Kaminari, studying his face for signs of disgust or confusion. Finding none of that, Monoma sat quietly waiting for Kaminari to continue explaining what happened.

“When I got your shirt off and saw the binder , I’ll be honest, I panicked. I know you aren’t supposed to sleep in them and I highly doubt you’re supposed to sleep in them drunk. So I blindfolded myself with one of your ties and carefully removed it. Then I put a blanket over you so I could dress you in a new shirt. I left your pants because they didn’t look like they had anything on them.”

“That explains my state of dress, but not yours.” Monoma stated bluntly. Their tone was firm, while masking what sounded like relief. 

“I’m getting to that.” Kaminari huffed. “When I took you out of the bed to pull the covers back, you vomited down my back. Despite what you may think, I’m not exactly used to being covered in bile.” Kaminari gagged, recalling the experience. “Sorry. Anyways, I put you to bed, took a shower and washed my clothes in the tub. The only option I had for sleepwear was my boxers as they hadn’t needed to be washed and I couldn’t leave until my clothes dried. On top of all that there were obviously roofies in your system so I didn’t want to leave you by yourself for the night. Instead, I stayed up most of the night making sure you kept breathing and didn’t get sick again. I must have fallen asleep at some point which is why you found me on the floor. I’m just grateful you let me grab my clothes before you screamed bloody murder and kicked me out into the hallway.”

“Wait. So...that’s it?” 

“That’s what I’ve been trying to tell you for the last week. You kept ignoring me in the hallways. It’s why I’ve been so nervous about tonight. I needed you to know that nothing happened .” Kaminari stated firmly, emphasizing his statement with his hands. 

The table fell silent for a moment, Kaminari biting into a handful of fries. The sound of empty sucking noises coming from one of the beverages in the restaurant.

“Nothing. Happened.”

Kaminari nodded.

“But you did see my binder.”

Kaminari nodded again.

“You haven’t told anyone what happened.”

“Correct.”

“Midoriya saw us leave.”

“Also correct.”

“But nothing happened.” Monoma said, repeating themself for a third time.

“Are you okay?” The lightning bug asked, reaching across the table to squeeze the smaller man’s hands. His face awash in what Monoma could only assume was genuine concern.

“I...I don’t know. I’m not entirely sure that I’ve processed everything you’ve just told me.”

“That’s alright. I’m certain the majority of what I said must have come as a shock.”

“Did...did you just make a joke?” Monoma asked, stunned at the teens' insensitivity.

“Ah! No, not intentionally. I just meant that you’ve been through an ordeal and it can be a lot to take in.” He said hurriedly, rubbing the back of his head with his unoccupied hand. “Sorry if it came across as a joke. Definitely not my intention.”

Monoma pursed their lips. “You sure were watching me closely the other night.” The corner of their mouth twisting into a small smirk. “Any particular reason for that?”

Kaminari sat frozen for a moment, quickly withdrawing his hand from Neito’s, face flushing ever so slightly. “N-not particularly. No.” 

“So the only thing you wanted to get off your chest today was an explanation for Saturday?” They asked teasingly.

“Yup,” Kaminari squeaked. His gloved hand fidgeted with the necklace he wore around his neck. Unsure of where the sudden shift in atmosphere had come.

It was then that Monoma stopped and took in exactly what Kaminari was wearing. A deep blue button up shirt with the first few buttons loosened; his chest and collarbones slightly exposed. When Monoma took a quick peek beneath the table they noticed Kaminari was also wearing black slacks and a simple pair of dress shoes. Taking a moment, Monoma thought carefully before deciding if they wanted to ask their next question. It is fun to see him squirm...

“Did you dress up for this?”

Kaminari’s face turned several shades redder. “M-maybe. Why do I look b-bad?”

“Not at all. I’m just surprised. I didn’t know you knew what dress pants were. Though I will admit I appreciate the effort, even if it’s a tad unnecessary.”

Monoma watched as the blond’s shoulders seemed slumped. Is he upset? That was supposed to be a compliment. 

“I might have had a question or two for you, but it’s not really the best time to ask with everything you’ve learned tonight.” Kaminari admitted awkwardly, shifting the conversation again, his fingers still playing with the necklace around his neck. 

“Honestly, I think I’m okay. I obviously jumped to an incorrect conclusion about what happened and I was lucky nothing too serious seemed to have taken place. So, ask your questions.” Monoma lifted his head, locking eyes with Kaminari.

“I dunno. They’re kind of personal and I feel like I’ve invaded your personal space enough for one evening.” 

“Ask. Your. Questions.” Monoma stated more firmly.

“W-why were you wearing a binder?” The blond stumbled.

“Oooo that is a personal question. Before I go spilling all my secrets, take a guess first.” Monoma couldn’t help but chuckle ever so slightly at the electric teens discomfort. It was nice to make other people squirm over questions they got asked far too often. It was no one's business why they did what they did, or wore what they wore. Their body, their rules. But Kaminari had done them a pretty big solid, so they’d let the personal question slide. Just this once.

“Could be just about anything. Mental health, having gender dysphoria, being trans, being non-binary. Not really my place to say or assume anything.” The blond gave his shoulders a slight shrug. He really didn’t want to guess. “If you don’t want to tell me, it’s your business. I was just curious.”

Monoma was surprised. More often than not, when people asked questions they came off as uneducated or awkward, but Kaminari just seemed genuinely curious.  It was difficult to explain. 

“That’s...refreshing. Most people don’t seem to understand the uses for binders, though there are several more than you listed. I’m trans, at first I thought I was non-binary but I’ve always felt more comfortable dressed as a man than as a woman. Please don’t share that information by the way, as far as my classmates are aware I’ve always been a man and I don’t plan on playing twenty-questions if you catch my meaning.” Monoma eyed the lightning bug carefully. Kaminari nodded in understanding. “Now...since you got to ask a question, may I?” Monoma inquired, tone smooth and level. 

“That seems fair.” Kaminari responded, just one more small question first.

Monoma gave a deep sigh, but waited for Kaminari to ask his question. 

“What are your pronouns?”

For the umpteenth time that night, Monoma was surprised by the taller man. “Oh, uh, they/them preferably. Most of my classmates use he/him, but I prefer gender neutral terms.”

Kaminari nodded, flashing his classic thousand watt smile, “Good to know. Thanks.”

“Thank you for asking. ”Monoma paused, looking at the table to hide the tinge of pink dancing on their cheeks. “Do I get to ask my question now?”

The larger blond chuckled nervously before shrugging his shoulders, “Shoot.”

“What’s with the gloves?” 

Kaminari inhaled sharply before he hid his hands under the table out of habit. “Nothing, I just wore them cause they looked good with the outfit.”

“That’s a blatant lie and you know it. Fair is fair Denki Kaminari, you know one of my deepest secrets.” The blond glared at the man across from him. 

Kaminari squirmed in discomfort before he slowly brought his hands back above the table. “The sweet and short answer is that they cover my scars.”

Monoma’s brows furrowed as they bit down on their lip tentatively. “Scars?”

Kaminari groaned. “Don’t freak out, they’re a little unusual. People get uncomfortable when they see them so I keep them covered in public.” He slowly tugged at the end of each leather clad finger.

“Wait!” Monoma shouted, somewhat louder than they had intended. “I-if you don’t want to show me, you don’t have to.” They knew what it was like to feel uncomfortable and Kaminari had been far more accepting than most.

Kaminari shrugged. “Fair is fair.” He continued to pull at the fabric until one of the gloves fell loose. As he slid it off, he heard an audible gasp from Monoma and subconsciously hid his hand back under the table before he realized what he had done and placed it back on the table's surface. He hated how self conscious he was about his scars. Outside of hero work and his aerialist hobby, it was rare that he wasn’t coving his hands in some capacity.

“How? ...er...What caused this?” Monoma inquired quietly.

“My quirk. That’s another story thou…” Kaminari stopped, cutting himself off with a slight gasp. The blue eyed teen across from him was gently running their fingers over the darkened skin, tracing the small streams of lightning that danced along his wrist. “They’re pretty.” Monoma whispered. Kaminari struggled to hold back another gasp as Monoma traced his scars further up and under the sleeve of his shirt.

“I,” Kaminari tried to steady his breathing, inhaling sharply, “Need you to stop.” 

“Hmm?” Monoma asked, drawing his gaze to lock eyes with Kaminari. His eyes slightly hooded over a darkened gaze, breathing uneven.

“Stop.” He said breathily. 

Eyes widening, Monoma quickly withdrew their hand from the other blond’s arm. A rush of colour filling their cheeks as they broke eye contact. “S-sorry. W-what was the other question? You had another, right?”

Kaminari took several more breaths in an attempt to calm himself, quickly slipping the glove back into place. “Definitely not the time to ask that.” His voice was huskier than expected.

Monoma gazed at the teen’s face, intrigued. “Ask anyways?”

Taking another calming breath, Kaminari looked at Monoma. “You gonna keep me here if I don’t ask the question?”

“Maybe.” Monoma smirked.

Kaminari's breath hitched for a moment. That hadn’t been his anticipated response, he had been sure the other would have said no. “Then maybe I shouldn’t ask the question.” He spoke without thinking, voice calm and collected with the insinuation that he had no intention of leaving. What the hell am I saying?!

“Oh?” Monoma hesitated. This took an interesting turn. He couldn’t possibly... “Why’s that?” Monoma asked, leaning in closer, tucking their legs under themself so they could lean on their elbows above the table. 

“Perhaps I’m enjoying the company.” Kaminari said, leaning in to mirror the smaller blond’s posture.

It was Monoma’s turn to catch their breath - heart fluttering against their chest. Oh! They glanced at the yellow eyes across from them, their view dipping to catch a glimpse of the others lips. Fuck it. Monoma threw caution to the wind and tugged at the blond’s shirt pulling him in closer. Their faces inches from one another, before Monoma replied in a whisper. “Me too.”

Kaminari didn’t need a clearer invitation as he closed the gap between them, capturing Monoma’s mouth in a gentle kiss. Monoma’s grip tightened against Kaminari’s shirt, as they felt the larger man bring his hand up to cup their cheek.

*AHEM!*

The two teens shot apart, returning to their seated positions in the booth, eyes looking everywhere except one another. Kaminari looked over at the waitress, who rolled her eyes and handed the boy his receipt. ‘We’re closing in five minutes. Cash or Card?” 

“Cash.” Kaminari stated flatly, as he pulled out his wallet and withdrew the required sum. Leaving a slightly larger tip than normal as an apology. 

“Ready to go?” He asked, looking towards Monoma who was trying rather poorly to hide their face behind the sleeve of their cream coloured cardigan. They shook their head yes in response to the question and got up from the booth. Kaminari grabbed a leather jacket off the hook next to the front door.

Making a quick exit the two soon to be heroes began their walk back towards the school dorms. An awkward silence hanging between them. The conversation didn’t resume until they neared Monoma’s dwelling. 

“Look about the diner, I uh--” Kaminari hesitated. 

“Liked it?” Monoma inquired, looking up beneath their lashes, a small flush still lingering from earlier.

“Oh, yeah. No. Definitely! I just don’t, I don’t want to force you into anything. You know? I mean. I’ve...I’ve watched you from afar for a while now. Sorry, that sounds creepy. I just...” Kaminari groaned, covering his eyes. “What I’m trying to say is, I like you. A lot. I’m not, I’m not looking for some casual fling.” He ran a hand through his hair and blushed as he looked away from the small blond.

“You might have been observing me, lightning bug, but you sure didn’t catch onto a damn thing.” Monoma stated bluntly.

Kaminari froze at the base of the steps outside the dorm for 3B. “What?”

Monoma gave a chuckle before stepping in front of the taller teen. “I said you watched, but you didn’t observe. I’ve been watching you too, guess I’m just better at it.” They smirked. “Typical 3B, always better.” Monoma reached up to guide Kaminari’s chin forward before pulling at his shirt, standing on their tiptoes to kiss Kaminari tenderly. The taller teen inhaled sharply before closing his eyes, grabbing Monoma’s waist and deepening the kiss.

Without giving it much thought, the shorter teen wrapped their arms around Kaminari’s neck, pulling themself up and closer, as the other grabbed Monoma’s thighs, lifting them effortlessly. 

Monoma let out a small gasp as they wrapped their legs around Kaminari’s hips, regaining their composure quickly. They licked along his bottom lip asking silently for entrance. Happy to oblige, Kaminari parted his lips and let Monoma explore, moaning softly at the sweet taste of their tongue. Monoma let their fingers wander through the others' hair as they explored the mouth of the man beneath them. Slowly retreating and placing small kisses along his jaw. They could feel Kaminari’s gaze as they reluctantly pulled away to lock eyes.

“I would invite you upstairs, but I’ve got a family outing tomorrow.” Monoma said, breathing heavy. 

“I’d have to decline. I’ve also got plans for the weekend. I wouldn’t mind a date when we’re both back though. If you’re interested, that is.”

Rolling their hips against the bulge beneath them, Monoma answered the dumb blonds question, while enjoying the sharp hiss their action elicited from the other man. “Interested is an understatement.” 

Kaminari grinned down at the blond, kissing them again. Pulling away slowly, he carefully lifted them off his hips and placed them back on the ground.  “Damn straight. I’ll call you.” He said confidently.

Turning to walk into their building, the blue eyed teen shot one more look over their shoulder. “You’d better.” They called as they disappeared beyond the double glass doors.

---

Denki sat and half-listened to Mei ramble on about the ‘babies’ she’d been working on lately, a flush across his cheeks as he recalled the previous evenings events and the semi-difficult walk back to his dorm room after his unexpected, but much enjoyed, kiss with Monoma. It hadn’t been the first time he had been accused of being dense, but had he really been so out of it that he hadn’t noticed Monoma was just as interested? As he tried to keep his mind from wandering too far, he peered at his performance partner asleep on his shoulder.

He watched as Izuku’s chest slowly rose and fell, occasionally releasing a light snore. The poor guy had looked like shit this morning, bags under his eyes and his hair tangled and unkept, which had been unusual considering Izuku was the definition of a morning person. Denki had tried to ask if he was okay, but Izuku had dodged the question and prattled on about the competition venue and the length of time they would be stuck in the bus. Every now and again Denki would hear Izuku whimper as he lay against the blond's shoulder and it pulled at his heartstrings. 

As the trip progressed and they neared the competition centre, the green eyed teen had begun to cry in his sleep. Denki made the only rational decision he could think of and woke him. Once Izuku had woken up, Denki had insisted that they style each other's hair before they got to the performance hall, ‘to save time’. Thankfully, Izuku had agreed, gathered the material needed to braid his hair, and switched seats with Mei so that he could sit in the aisle while Denki styled his forest green locks into several tight braids. 

Denki’s favourite part of styling Izuku’s hair, which he had become quite proficient at, was the part where he got to place all the hair jewelry into the braids. It was fun to pick different pieces, or create small patterns. When he finished styling and placing everything he got up and switched spots with Izuku who quickly plaited two braids through the sides of Denki’s hair, leaving the top loose and pulling everything into a small, tight bun at the top of his head. As the two teens worked, they could hear Mei in the background continuing to talk about some of the features she was thinking about including in certain designs. 

As long as they remembered to nod occasionally she generally maintained a steady flow of self supported conversation. Usually Izuku would have jumped in and suggested several things, but aside from sleeping, the emerald eyed teen had remained quiet. It was beginning to eat at Denki that Izuku wasn’t talking to them as they had discussed before, so when his hair was finished Denki had resumed his position in the row of seats and turned to his friend. 

“Izuku?” The teen turned, acknowledging that he had heard Denki. “I know it’s not my business, but you’re beginning to freak me out. This morning you looked like shit, which I say with love, but you’ve also been really quiet. What’s going on?”

With a soft thunk, Izuku laid his head against the back of his seat and turned to look at Denki. He could tell that the lightning bug was genuinely concerned about him, so he didn’t put up a fight. 

“I had a nightmare.”

“Okay. Not you’re first, not mine either. We definitely all get them, so why has this one got you in such a funk?” 

“This one was about All Might.” Izuku said softly, his voice fragile. 

Denki nodded his head and waited patiently for the other to continue.

“It’s almost been a year since…” Izuku’s gaze fell to his hands, where his fingers picked at the scars that wrapped around his palm. Denki could see that his partner was trying his best not to cry at the mention of his mentor's unwanted one year anniversary. A leather clad hand reached out and gripped Izuku’s hands, a gesture which stopped him from picking at his scars and offered a small amount of reassurance. 

Mei had stopped her self propelled conversation and leaned in to rest her hand on Izuku’s shoulder. She had barely known All Might outside of his reputation, but she knew that Izuku had been closer to the pro than any other student at UA. There were no words she could muster that would help improve Izuku’s mood so she sat quietly, her hand having moved to his back where she rubbed small soothing circles through his studio’s tracksuit. 

Izuku glanced at each of his friends, offering them a small smile. “I’ll be fine. I just wasn’t expecting a year to go by so quickly. You know? I miss not having him here and I just wonder if I’m doing him proud.” 

“Of course you are, man. You stuck to your guns, mastered I don’t even remember how many new quirks, and the League of Villains no longer exists. It’s normal to miss people who are gone, Izuku, it’s a natural feeling.” Denki said, as he saw Mei nod in agreement.

Izuku sniffled a bit, still fighting back tears. “Are you doing anything special for the anniversary?” The yellow eyed teen asked. 

“Yeah. Kacchan said he’d go with me to visit his grave, then we’re gonna watch some old biographies.” 

Denki gave Izuku’s hands another squeeze, “That sounds great Izu. Just let me know if you want extra company and I’m there okay?”

“Same here Izu!” Mei piped in.

The green head bobbed again, “M’kay. Thanks.” 

“Anytime! You know we love you Izuku. You’re like family to me!”

“Hey! Me too Mei. Izu is my family too!”

Izuku couldn’t help but chuckle at the two as they fought about who was whose family or who had known each other longer. They were being ridiculous but he appreciated the distraction. When the two had finally ended their playful bickering, Mei reached out and tapped at the device wrapped around Izuku’s ear. 

“How’s my baby handling the outside world?” Her grin was wild and contagious. Izuku couldn’t help but smile back at her as he responded.

“So far so good, but we’ll see how it holds up during the competition. Speaking of which, I need to check on something with Vasha.”

Izuku quickly rubbed at his eyes to ensure they were void of tears, rose from his seat and walked to the front of the bus where Vasha and Ryukin sat; their three children in the seats across the aisle from them.

“Vasha. I just wanted to double check that all the extra paperwork was filed for my devices in the competition?”

“Yes Izuku, you’re fine. I filed everything weeks ago.” She said, waving a bi-coloured hand in front of her face. 

Izuku nodded, “Thanks.” He hesitated before returning to his seat.

“Is there something else?” Ryukin asked as he watched the teens' fingers clench and unclench at his side.

“Uh, well, sort of, yeah.” 

Vasha made a small gesture with her hand that insisted he should get to the point.

“Denki and I were kind of surprised to see you at school on Friday. You never told us you took on a job with the school and we wanted to know why you didn’t tell us anything about it.”

“Ahhh,” Ryukin sighed in understanding. “I did intend to send an email originally, but seeing as you and Denki are both in the hero course we decided it would be best for you to deal with the unexpected. You were far more tense than we expected you to be though.”

Izuku’s eyebrows knit themselves together in a look of disbelief. They definitely succeeded in surprising us with the unexpected.

Vasha gave a hearty laugh, “It’s fine Izuku, you and Denki did great. Though I had hoped the two of you would be a tad more excited to see us.”

“Surprised would be the better word. It’s just that Denki and I couldn’t remember if we had told you or not.”

“Told us what?” Ryukin inquired.

“That we haven’t told anyone about what we do in our spare time.”

Vasha gave another hearty laugh, “Izuku, you’ve told us on several occasions. We’re not going to say anything about it unless you’re comfortable about sharing that part of yourself. Though I do wish you’d stop keeping it a secret. You’ve been training hard for years. You deserve to show off your abilities; Denki too.” She looked up at the boy beside her, a soft smile tugging at her lips. 

Izuku blushed at the compliment from his instructor and thanked her before he returned to his seat. He explained to Denki that Monday would be slightly less stressful than originally expected. The blond’s shoulders seemed to relax at the news and Izuku settled back in his seat to join his friends in conversation until they arrived at the performance hall. 

When the bus finally pulled into the parking lot Vasha and Ryukin stood at the front to gather the attention of their students. 

“Welcome to the Nagano City Performance Hall, where you will be competing in several categories. While you are here you will be representing the Simple Silks Aerial Company. I do not expect perfection from you, I expect you to expect perfection from yourselves. You have all trained hard to be here, if I did not think you were ready I would not have allowed you to come. As I complete the roll call, you may exit the bus. I expect you to be on your best behaviour, do not disappoint me.” Her eyes were set in stone, as her husband stood behind her, hands on his hips with a grin from ear to ear. 

“Do your best!” Ryukin shouted.

“Forget the rest!” Cried the students on the bus. 

As Vasha called out each student's name, going by age category, they exited the bus. First Denki, then Izuku, Mei followed them both out despite not officially being on the roll call sheet. She thanked the instructors for the ride as she walked past. 

The students separated outwards, heading for the dressing rooms. It was not the first time that they had performed at this location, so they were familiar with where they needed to go and how to get there. As they approached the main set of doors a voice called out to the group.

“Izuku!!! Denki, Mei! Over here!”

It was easy for the group to recognize the voice, she attended every competition and was usually the first person to spot them. How she did it, every time, they did not know, though they appreciated the effort.

Izuku was the first to spot the green haired woman waving to them in the distance and called out to her as he waved back. “Hi mom!”

The trio made their way over to Inko, approaching through a packed crowd. As they got closer they noticed she was standing next to Denki’s mother and another pale blonde woman. 

“Auntie Mitsuki?” Izuku asked. “What are you doing here?”

“You’re mom invited me along.” The woman answered gruffly. 

Izuku nodded slowly, looking towards his mother for a better answer. 

“She wouldn’t take no for an answer when I explained I had plans for the weekend, so I had to explain where I was going. As much as I love your Auntie, you know how strong headed she can be. Where do you think Katsuki gets it from?”

“Wait, Katsuki?” Denki asked, cutting into the conversation. “Like Katsuki Bakugo? Our Katsuki.”

“Last I checked I didn’t fucking belong to anyone Dunce Face.” A terse voice responded.

Izuku had never spun around so quickly in his life, eyes falling on the form of his tall blond friend with whom he’d had a lengthy conversation with the night before. Incapable of forming words the emerald eyed teen just sputtered incoherently for several moments while Denki’s wide surprised eyes looked between the blond and his mother.

“There's no way you're his mother.” Denki said, “You look way too young.”

Mitsuki laughed. “Aren’t you sweet? Despite that, I can assure you that little pain in the ass is my son. Can’t you see the family resemblance?” She asked as she threw her arm over Katsuki’s shoulder and reached up to ruffle his hair.

Denki was surprised to see that Katsuki didn’t fight back, crossing his arms over his chest instead of blowing things up like he tended to witness at school. 

Finally regaining the ability to speak, Izuku looked at Katsuki with watery eyes. “Why are you heeereee!?!” 

“Tch, don’t look at me like that. I didn’t know you were going to be here ya damn nerd! The old bat told me I didn’t have a choice.”

“Oh come on now! When was the last time we got to have all four of us together?!” Mitsuki asked. “It’s been ages!”

“Dear,” Ms. Kaminari interjected with a slight twang, “there are six of us here, thank ya kindly.”

“Seven!” Squeaked Mei.

“Sorry Sweetie, you’re right, there are seven of us here.”

“Mama,” Denki whispered, his voice taking on a slight twang of its own, “that’s not the point.”

“Mooooom!” Izuku whined.

“Oh Izuku, it’s just Kacchan. I don’t see what the big deal is if he sees you perform.” 

“Wait, what?” said Katsuki, as if taking in the appearance of the two teens for the first time. Both teens stood in matching white track suits with black detailing and blue lettering. Why do those tracksuits look so familiar. Duffle Bags thrown over their shoulders. “I thought you and the extra were just here to watch the show.”

“Extra?! You better not be referring to my darling baby boy!” Ms. Kaminari called.

Denki ran a hand down his face, “Mama, you’re not helping’ anything. Leave it alone!”

Izuku gave an airy laugh, “Uh, no, w-we’re competing all weekend. Denki and I.”

Realization dawned on the grumpy blond’s face. The rumors around the dorm, the two leaving together early in the morning. It all clicked.  “Secret training my ASS! HA! You little shits have been leaving to practice.” Katsuki barked, bending in the middle as he laughed.

Frustrated, Izuku punched Katsuki’s arm. “It’s not funny Kacchan! We didn’t want anyone at school to know what we were doing. I just wanted some privacy! I don’t know why you’re laughing so hard, I’ve been doing this since I was seven and you’re only just figuring it out.”

Katsuki froze. “You did this through elementary, middle and high school?” And never mentioned it once. He thought. 

The green haired teen nodded indignantly. Pleased to put the loud blonde in his place for once. 

Katsuki glared at Denki, “That true dunce face?” 

“Dunce face! Oh no you ---” 

“Mama! Stop!” Denki cried, “My god, just stop okay. Yes, Bakugo, we've been performing together for a long time, but don’t worry. Kacchan is still Izuku’s favourite friend.” He couldn’t help but tease the explosive teen.

“Tch, don’t call me that.” Katsuki chided. “So, are you two any good or am I going to be bored out of my skull?”

At this the two aerialists looked at one another and grinned. “You’ll just have to watch. If there’s anything you don’t understand you can ask Mei, she’s a wealth of knowledge!”

“Mei?” Katsuki asked dryly.

“Hey~ I’m Mei, but we’ve met before Bakugo-kun. I helped design the upgrades for your hero costume last year. I hope my babies have been doing a good job.”

“Huuh!!” Katsuki bulked, “Are you saying the tech support bitch knew about this before me?” 

Izuku paled a bit at Katsuki’s response to Mei. He had meant to tell Katsuki about his extracurricular hobby, the topic just never seemed to find its way into their conversations about psychologists, medical appointments, school gossip and other topics. He had also needed to discuss it with Denki first, but had never gotten around to it.

Denki chimed up from his spot beside his mother, “Oh! Look at the time, we really must be going. Things to do, people to see, routines to perform. Keep your eyes on the stage! Bye-bye!” 

With that said Denki grabbed his duo partner by the shoulders and steered him through the doors. They stopped only once to wave a quick goodbye before making their way into the building. Izuku gave a deep sigh of relief. 

“Nice save Denki. I owe you one.”

“Great, you can write my obituary for me after Bakugo discovers we don’t actually perform for at least another several hours. Now where’s the registration desk.”

Quickly reaching registration, the two boys signed in, gathered their lanyards and in the case of Izuku, had his assistive devices checked. When the officials were satisfied Izuku put his hearing aid back in and locked his Bass Plate to his right pectoral with his middle finger. 

“Welcome to the 7th Annual Nagano City Aerialist Competition gentlemen. It’s a pleasure to have you back. We wish you the best of luck in the competition Mr. Midoriya, Mr. Kaminari.”

“Thank you.” The two teens chirped in return. 

“How many competitors this year?” Izuku inquired.

“At last tally, one hundred thirteen. That’s inclusive of all divisions in all eight categories.”

Thanking the officiants, the two teens rushed to the change room and got ready for their routines. Despite the fact that they would be competing against one another today, they were excited and raring to go. 

“May the best--” Izuku started, holding up a single scarred fist,

“--performer win!” Denki finished, bumping his own ungloved fist against Izuku’s outstretched one. 

Chapter Text

Hitoshi had never regretted a decision more in his life, than sharing a grueling four hour car ride with Yamada and Eri. All too often people likened Hitoshi to Shouta in regards to their demeanor and attitudes, but what many people never got the opportunity to observe was how similar Eri was to Yamada. Something that was becoming all too apparent as the violet eyed teen sat behind Yamada listening to the man belt out the lyrics to every song on the radio while Eri chittered endlessly beside him. 

Originally Hitoshi had agreed to do the protective detail with his dad and he had been expecting it to be a quiet drive, with a relaxed atmosphere where they could occasionally switch drivers while the other napped. What he had not expected was to be crammed into the backseat of their tiny ass clown car with the gremlin beside him conversing endlessly about the flier she had shown him after he’d gotten home yesterday night. 

A flier which, according to Yamada, the nine year old had refused to leave the store without. Eri had been unwilling to let anyone else near her paper treasure, hoarding it to herself like a miniature dragon. From what Hitoshi could discern, there was nothing special about the flier. It was a simple piece of paper, the silhouette of a slender woman held high in a twist of tight red fabric. In all honesty, the only thing Hitoshi knew about the flier was that it was for an acrobatics competition being held in the same hall that he would be surveying. 

What Hitoshi had yet to understand was the reason they were providing a protective detail for some unnamed individuals at an acrobatics competition. Who the hell spent their free time suspended in the air, twirling around in colorful fabric when they had such a copious amount of work assigned by UA?

Letting the question slip to the back of his mind, Hitoshi released a content sigh and let his body melt into the seat, head resting against the car window as he observed each of the people in his makeshift family. Sure, the noise was, well, noisy, but it was nice to spend time together. When he tried to recall memories of his previous life his mind was met with a hazy fog that seemed to dull his senses, pushing him away. It was always like that, a feeling of familiarity and not a single memory to explain why. Yet instead of being filled with concern, Hitoshi pushed it from his mind and watched the people he loved as the time edged on. 

Pops continued belting out every song that came over the radio, genre be damned, and laughed with joy each time Aizawa joined in with a familiar chorus. He was dressed in a pair of black jeans with stone studded pockets, a red text-free t-shirt and a pair of black loafers. Yamada still wore a leather jacket, but it was bulkier than the one he wore with his hero costume. Around his neck was a small black choker that served as his vocal modulator in replacement of his hero costume piece which was in the trunk of the car as he wasn’t working today. His hair was separated into two parts - the top tied into a bun with the bottom half hanging loose along his shoulders. The cheshire grin that adorned his face was a powerful testament to how much he was enjoying himself.

Aizawa abruptly announced that they had reached the halfway point of the trip and that it was his turn to drive. Upon pulling over and quickly switching places with Yamada, Aizawa promptly shut the music off, following the age old rule of driver picks the music, shotgun shuts his cake hole. Hitoshi smirked as Yamada looked at Aizawa, whining about no longer having any tunes, but Aizawa maintained eye contact with the road ignoring his husband's complaints. Like his husband Aizawa was dressed casually, a similar pair of black jeans hugged his frame, the shirt he wore was a soft maroon knit sweater. His scarf was wrapped around his neck, as it always was, and he wore a plain pair of black sneakers. Hitoshi knew both men wore a wedding band on a necklace tucked beneath their shirts, though the chain hung low enough that it wasn’t noticeable to anyone in a public setting.

Between the lack of sleep the night before and the non-stop end of noise coming from his family, the poor teen was glad for the decrease in decibels and as they drove, Hitoshi found the noise soft enough to lull himself into a light sleep.

When the car jerked to a sudden stop Hitoshi awoke to discover that they had arrived at the performance hall. There was a sizable crowd around the front door and several small buses were parked side by side, teams coming off in steady streams of matching tracksuits. Studying each group closely to familiarize himself with the numerous faces, his eyes fell on a familiar image. Hitoshi thought about it for several minutes but could not discern why the white and black tracksuit - nor its blue cursive writing - gave him a strange sense of Deja Vu.

“Damn. That's a lot of people.” Hitoshi muttered under his breath. 

“Yeah! Based on the flier this is some kind of annual competition. Can’t wait to see all the little listeners doin’ their thang!” Yamada quipped, a grin spreading across his face. 

“I bet everyone is gonna look so pretty!” Squealed Eri, as she hugged the flier to her chest. Her eyes nearly forced shut from the sheer size of her smile.

“Is that the only reason you wanted to come?” Hitoshi asked jokingly. 

Eri shook her head no as her eyes got wide and she launched into her explanation. “Nu-uh! It’s so pretty ‘Toshi! I looked it up on our computer when we got home and they looked like they were flying! The way they wrap themselves up in the pretty fabric reminded me of the time Izuku-nii carried me on his back.”

The car was dead silent as Yamada turned in his seat. “Hey Munchkin, that’s...uh...not the only reason is it?” 

Again the girl with the carmine eyes shook her head no, silver curls bouncing. “I wanted to go cause it looked like fun. We all get to go together too!” 

“That’s an excellent reason Eri,” Aizawa said, the timber in his voice carrying into the back seat. “Don’t forget that Hitoshi and I are going for work though, okay? So we won’t all be sitting together.”

She giggled, wriggling in her seat. “I know daddy! We can talk about it at the hotel though, right? Can we get out of the car now?”

The three men laughed at the young lady's excitement. It was difficult to believe how quickly two years had passed by, two years since she had been held hostage and used as a lab rat because of her quirk. She’d adjusted to a wide variety of circumstances since then. Aizawa and Yamada had taken her in, not long after they had been joined by Hitoshi and she had quickly come to terms with having a third older sibling - already having claimed Izuku and Togata. It was heartwarming to see how the two siblings interacted with one another on a daily basis. 

“Okay, out we get. Hitoshi, don’t forget to grab anything you might need from the trunk. Since it’s a protective detail for the school, we won’t be in our hero costumes, but we can still take our support items.” 

As he explained, Aizawa popped the trunk of the car and took out his goggles. Hitoshi reached in grabbing his voice modulator and placed it around his neck where it nestled inside his scarf. Next he removed a set of tonfa from the trunk and harnessed them so they sat snuggly against the base of his spine, the straps of the harness tight against his hips. He promptly pulled his loose gray sweater over the weapons to hide them from civilian sight and nodded towards Aizawa, who slammed the trunk closed. 

“You two stay safe, try to have some fun if you can. Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do!” Yamada said, waving towards the two boys as he took hold of Eri’s hand. They headed towards the entrance leaving the two sleep deprived heroes to go over the final details. 

“Run me through the main points of a protective detail.” Aizawa stated. 

“We observe the location and the assets at all times. We do not interact with the assets unless necessary. If we detect a threat we inform all parties immediately, secure the assets and try to keep things from escalating.” Hitoshi spoke clearly and confidently in his word choice.

“That about covers it. Now details for the assignment.”

“We are protecting two assets. These assets are not aware that we are here. We do not know who they are, only that we’ll know them when we see them; they are competing in the competition and attend UA as third year students.”

“Good. That will do for now.” Aizawa nodded, a small smile tugged at the corner of his lips. Hitoshi had studied hard over the last several hours and it showed. He did, however, feel somewhat bad about the fact that he had lied through his teeth about the assets, but Aizawa would deal with the fallout for that later. The underground hero doubted that Hitoshi would have come with him had he been informed that Izuku Midoriya was one of their assets. Aizawa was also tired of dealing with the fact that neither boy seemed to know what they wanted and needed them to figure shit out already. A little nudge here and there never hurt anyone. Right?

Aizawa wasn’t an idiot, he knew work came first and that his son's romantic interests came second, but he was and would always be a meddler. Once Hitoshi and he were ready, they headed towards the building across the parking lot, made their way through the front doors and headed to the sign in table, where Aizawa stood silently and waited to be noticed by one of the men sitting there. 

“Oh! Hello, welcome to the 7th annual Aerial Silks Competition. I’m sorry to say you are an unfamiliar face, which company are you attending the competition with sir?” The man behind the table inquired with far too much pep.

“We are not competing, Nezu sent us.”

The man behind the table whose nameplate read ‘Steve’, gave Aizawa a curious look before turning away to speak with the other man at the table. Clearly frustrated, the other man rolled his eyes at ‘Steve’ and handed him two all-access passes. “You’re here for security purposes?” Steve asked, his face radiating further confusion.

“Something like that. Me and the young man behind me.” 

As if news of a second person was unexpected - despite the fact that he was holding two passes - Hitoshi watched as Steve’s face peered out from around Aizawa’s thin waist.

“I see. Here are your security passes. The entire building is dedicated to the competition, though we ask you to avoid the stage and change room areas as much as possible. Aside from the two main entrances there are no other exits in the building. We do have several security cameras located throughout.” said Steve, as he fiddled with his fingers after handing over the passes.

“Understood. Thank you.” Aizawa said curtly, before handing one of the passes to Hitoshi. Both tied the passes around one of their pant loops keeping them out of the way of their scarves.

“Hitoshi, you’ll monitor the entrances for now. Do you have your COMM?”

Hitoshi pressed his finger to his ear in confirmation, remaining quiet around the patrons. It didn’t happen often, but on occasion he would be recognized from the televised UA tournaments each year, which meant they were familiar with his quirk. 

“Good, I’ll cover the stage area for now. Check in every hour, we’ll switch locations a quarter of the way through.”

The tired teen nodded his head, parting ways with Aizawa as he began to do an initial sweep of the area, familiarizing himself with the various exits and people; looking for any recognizable faces.

Katsuki was confused, frustrated, and emotionally lost. Despite the fact that he and the nerd had secretly become closer over the last eleven months, Katsuki was pissed. How could he hide this shit from me? We tell one another everything, the dweeb knows about my psychologist, and my crush on Kiri and he couldn’t be bothered to tell me about his stupid circus sport. The blond growled, his forehead resting against laced fingers as he sat forward in his seat, waiting for the competition to begin. 

When he felt a light punch hit his shoulder he looked towards the cause, finding his mother with concerned eyes and an optimistic smile. 

“Come on brat. I know that face. What the fuck’s eating you? Today was supposed to be fuuun. Live a little!”

“Tch. Whatever.” He chided, leaning back in his seat as his mind chased after itself. Did I upset him again? Did I do something wrong? What about Kaminari? Why didn’t he say anything? Maybe I shouldn’t have teased them or laughed at them so much at school. Maybe I said something to them without thinking. God damnit, why are they keeping secrets from me? I can keep a fucking secret!

The questions kept gnawing at the back of his mind, building on each other until the blond was asking himself questions to which he knew he did not want the answers. Does Denki know about All-Might? What about Izuku’s hearing; was he wearing his hearing aid? Can he hear the music? Why was I the last to know? Will they still talk to me? Is this going to change things again?

If Katsuki could shut off his brain and sit in silence, he would happily do so, but the voice in the back of his mind wouldn’t shut up. You really did it this time Katsuki, they’ll never speak to you again. They hate you, it’s the only logical answer. Katsuki knew his brain was feeding him lies, but they still seeped in, weighing heavily on his mind.

Mitsuki’s fingers were still rubbing small circles into his shoulder as he breathed a deep sigh and tried to focus on answering some of the questions that plagued him, only to discover that without talking to Izuku or Kaminari there weren’t many answers that he could provide himself. 

Another deep inhale, another long smooth exhale as he tried to relax. The seats were beginning to fill and the lights above the audience were beginning to dim until the only patch of light covered the performance area and a single set of bright red silks. A woman walked out, microphone in hand and looked around the auditorium. “Welcome, members of the audience to this year's event, the 7th Annual Nagano Aerialist Competition. For our seasoned viewers, welcome back! For our first timers, thank you for joining us this weekend. Allow us to review some of the basic tenets of our audience expectations.” 

The woman walked across the floor, eyes surveying the crowd in every possible direction - an easy feat considering she had several more than the average person. “While a performer is on stage we ask that the crowd maintain silence. What these athletes are doing takes focus and we would hate to see something jeopardize the athletes due to audience participation. We ask that you remain in your seats until intermission periods, which will occur between each age category - of which we have six. Junior, Senior Men, Senior Women, Masters Men, Masters Women, and Doubles! Today’s competition includes four categories - Quirked Silks, Quirkless Silks, Quirked Hoop and Quirkless Hoop. A one hour intermission will be given between the Silk and Hoop competitions to allow for the equipment to be switched out. Now allow me to…”

Katsuki sat in his seat listening to the woman drone on about all the information and requirements. When she finally finished explaining and introduced the judges, Katsuki was annoyed and ready to blow something up. Why a sports competition needed a twenty minute introduction he did not know, nor did he care. He barely wanted to be here, so the damn nerd and dunce face needed to get their asses on stage. Better be fucking good at it too. 

The announcer introduced the first Division, Junior Quirkless Silks. 

“Is this the nerds group?” He whispered towards Mei who sat on his opposite side. She shook her head no, leaning in to whisper back. 

“It was last year. This year Izuku and Denki are debuting in the Senior Men's Division.”

So I have to watch a bunch of kids wrap themselves in fabric. Katsuki couldn’t stop himself from rolling his eyes as he leaned back into his seat, crossing his arms across his chest. 

When the first competitor walked onto the stage, standing in the corner of the mat, Katsuki observed carefully. If he watched how the others performed he would at least have something to compare Izuku and Denki to when they got on stage. 

Music filled the space and the teen began to move. Flipping and cartwheeling across the mat on the floor, as a stern looking woman stood at the end of the mat. When the performer approached the silks, Katsuki observed how they wrapped their arms before being lifted off the floor. Watching as they turned and twisted. Watching as they let the silks loose, climbing higher until they were wrapped and closing in on the tops of the silks. Having reached the top of the silks, Katsuki caught himself wondering how the performer was going to get down, when he saw their hands slip from the fabric.

He stood up from his seat only to feel Mei grab at his wrist and pull him back down. Transfixed and fearful he watched as the performer fell backwards the silks loosening and pulling away when suddenly they stopped, body dangling by the ankles with their arms outstretched in an upside down ‘T’. 

The blond released a breath he didn’t realize he was holding before turning to glare at the giggling girl beside him. “When their hands slipped - I - I just thought.” He tried to explain.

“It’s a type of Drop. One of the Dynamic Elements used to earn points.” Mei replied quietly. “Silks have a wide variety of maneuvers which are collected under four elements - Flexibility, Strength, Balance and Dynamic. The performer needs a specific number of elements in each performance. Competitive Individuals need 10, Competitive Doubles 5 and they must have at least one element from each of the four types.”

Katsuki sat, listening carefully. “There,” Mei pointed towards the performer several levels below them, “That’s a Balance Element.”

The performer was upside down, legs in a full split with their left foot knotted in the silks.

“They have to hold the pose for two seconds while maintaining a specific degree or angle. This one needs a full 160 degree split or more. They’ll lose points for their arms since they’re bent instead of fully extended.”

“Tch. It can’t possibly be that specific.” Katsuki huffed quietly.

Mei looked towards the blond, staring down carmine eyes. “Bakugo, this sport is so specific it provides the athletes with a comprehensive list of the performance with notes on their execution. Every imperfection is put on a piece of paper to help the athlete improve.”

Turning back to watch the aerialist, Katsuki thought about the level of detail in each move he saw on the stage. As much as he laughed about it earlier, this sport was far from simplistic and he could see how Izuku became so enamored with it. The nerd was constantly writing notes and analyzing others and this sport gave him an outlet to self-analyze. 

The music stopped and he observed the performer walking off stage. Katsuki watched as each aerialist came on stage, did their performance and exited to the sound of applause. Before he knew it, they had reached the end of the Junior Quirkless Division and were in their first intermission. Several times throughout he had turned to ask Mei questions which she had been all too happy to answer. 

After intermissions the Senior Men's Silk Division was announced next on the roster. The woman from earlier appeared next to the stage again, welcoming everyone back before announcing the first competitor for the Division.

“Denki Kaminari!”

“Fucking finally.” Katsuki whispered under his breath.

Neito had been bored out of their mind until their sister had performed her routine. It hadn’t been anything to write home about, she’d slipped twice and didn’t know how to execute a split but she’d finished the routine. Once she had walked off stage the announcer had called intermission, so Neito had gotten up and walked around for a few minutes before returning to their seat to watch the next division. Knowing nothing about how the divisions were divided, Neito had been disappointed about not seeing Denki perform. 

“Denki Kaminari”

When the announcer walked out and introduced the next aerialist Neito couldn’t help but sit up in their seat. Wait, Denki? So he is perform— But before they could finish their thought, the man they had kissed only yesterday walked onto the performance floor clad in what Neito could only describe as a second skin. 

The fabric clung to Denki in every place that counted, a black sleeveless unitard with simple yellow detailing that mimicked the scars that ran up his arms. Neito took notice of the absence of Denki’s gloves, even from the height at which they were sitting. They could feel their face flushing as they observed the tall blonde man below. When they heard the music begin, it was a familiar song, though it took a moment for Neito to recall the song’s title; Billie Elish’s CopyCat .

Neito sat starstruck as he watched the difference between Denki and their sister’s performance. They observed each measured twist of the man’s hips, the strength of his arms as he pulled himself upwards. Each time Denki dropped, Neito’s heart followed in quick succession. Blue eyes tracked the languid motions of his legs, switching between vertical and horizontal splits, feet bound in fabric while hands released to balance at his sides. On several occasions Denki reached the top of the silks, waist and legs wrapped tight; Neito had gasped as he descended, twisting and turning in quick, smooth, steady circles towards the end of the silks. Without realizing how much time had passed, Neito found themself confused when Denki hung above the ground, legs in a full split, arms fully extended. The music had stopped and Denki slowly brought his legs together to stand, bow and exit the stage. A rip-roaring applause filled the performance hall. 

What in the actual fuck was that. Neito wondered to themself. Compared to his sister's performance, Denki was on an entirely different level. They knew the man could move, they’d observed as much during joint sparring sessions between the classes. Didn’t realize he was so damn flexible though. Neito drew in a deep breath in an attempt to calm themself. They could feel a flush forming across their cheeks and were less than pleased to consider the idea that their parents may return to find them a simpering mess after watching Men’s aerial silks. 

Aizawa stood in the shadows of the stage's feeder hallways that was used by the performers and watched as his student performed feats of which even he had never thought the electric hero was capable. The twists and turns and the mere strength with which his student moved in the air was incredible. I definitely haven’t been pushing him hard enough in his physical training. Kid doesn’t know what’s comin’ to him. 

He hadn’t expected his student to perform in the Quirkless Division, and he was curious about how the competitors were prevented from using their quirks as some were often harder to spot than others. A smirk tugging at the edge of his mouth and a small sense of pride blossoming in his chest. If, as the announcer had explained, this was the Quirkless Division, Aizawa wondered what his students performance would look like in the quirked division. There were some concerns that flitted across the back of his mind as he kept watch of Denki; his scars were far more extensive than he had originally thought and he was curious if they extended further than the young man’s shoulders. 

As the teens performance came to an end and he exited from the stage, Aizawa couldn’t help but wonder about Izuku’s performance. The stoic underground hero continued to stand in the shadows, observing his surroundings, watching as other performers came to the stage and performed their routines. Various levels of applause rippled across the audience as each performer finished. Unlike the previous division, the performers in the Senior Men's category seemed to range from eighteen years of age until well into the late thirties. Yet another unexpected piece of knowledge that Aizawa absorbed as he watched the competition. 

“Izuku Midoriya” called the announcer.

The underground hero straightened up, interest peaked now that the core cause of his weekend outing was walking across the stage. Unlike the surprise that Aizawa had felt at seeing the extent of Denki’s scars, Aizawa’s stomach fell and a deep feeling of regret clutched at his chest. Scars ran in every direction across his students arms and hands. Though he was hidden well enough not to be seen from the performance floor, he was close enough to tell how deep several of the scars ran. Close enough to see the edges that started on his shoulders and above his neckline only to plunge beneath the dark fabric of his leotard. 

Unlike most of his students, Izuku had sustained so much damage to his body in the first two years of his time at the school that Aizawa and the other faculty members of UA often found themselves talking about if the young hero in training would make it to the end of his academic career with his body in-tact and functioning. Aizawa was well aware of Izuku’s difficulties with his hearing, though he had not been informed of the exact causes or the extent. He’d never seen him with a hearing aid before, but had spotted it immediately upon the teens entry onto the performance floor. 

The music began to play and Aizawa watched carefully as Izuku began to move. Before he had even reached the silks, the hidden hero knew that he had greatly underestimated the abilities of Midoriya too, and looked forward to seeing how the class would handle joint training with 3-B as they practiced this skill set with the Simple Silks Aerial Company come Monday. Aizawa also knew that he was going to need to find a way to make the training valuable to his two problem children.

It was difficult to sit still through the second set of performances. Katsuki had watched Denki perform, surprised by the sheer difference between the first age category and the second. When Denki had come out on stage and gone through his routine, Katsuki had sat stunned and silent. Damn, Dunce Face can mooove . He’d thought, as eyes tracked the movements of his friend. If this was how the blond performed, what was Izuku going to be like?

Though it had been difficult to sit still, knee bouncing impatiently as the other performers completed their routine, Katsuki had managed to take the opportunity to ask Mei several more questions about what was happening on the performance floor. She’d explained quietly, not wanting to pull the attention of the other audience members around her or to get in trouble for speaking. The Senior Men’s division was for ages eighteen through thirty-nine. Katsuki had inquired about why the older men in the division seemed to perform at different ability levels, which the pink haired genius had found humorous before explaining that not everyone started at the same age as Izuku and Denki. That, like every skill, sport, or extra curricular activity people joined at different times and different ages. Some started young, others older. Some dropped out after a year or two, while others stuck with it for life. 

Katsuki had listened carefully, chastising himself as he heard her simple, common sense answer. As he continued to ask her questions under his breath, she continued to answer until the familiar sound of Lewis Capaldi’s Someone You Loved emanated through the performance hall speakers. Several times Katsuki had gone to study with Eijiro and heard the song coming from Izuku’s room. He must have been visualizing . It was something they often did in hero training, visualizing the movements of their opponents and of themselves - a mental training exercise. 

He’d missed the first several movements of Izuku’s routines, cursing himself silently as he watched the remainder with diligence. Arms wrapped themselves in spirals of silk, body pulled up, toes pointed towards the sky. The scarred muscular frame that Katsuki had come to associate with clumsy, accidental strength switched between languid flowing motions and quick jolts of movement as Izuku switched between splits and drops and poses. At one point Katsuki nearly jumped from his seat again as the freckled teen removed his hands from the silks, descending backwards until he dangled from a single ankle. 

The lyrics of the song swept slowly over Katsuki, tickling his mind with their meaning as he watched Izuku climb the silks again, this time reaching the top. Before he could predict the next movement, Katsuki watched as the teen let go of the silks again, this time expecting him to dangle from a different limb until he realized that Izuku wasn’t knotted to the silks. This time he was falling, flipping, reaching and then swinging ever so slightly as he refastened himself to the fabric. Katsuki didn’t realize he was standing again until Mei and his mother tugged gently at the back of his shirt, prompting him to return to his seat, which he did with hesitance. Again, Izuku was spinning, wrapping his waist as he maneuvered with practiced ease. The nerd’s gonna get a piece of my mind . All thoughts of his earlier concerns and frustration temporarily forgotten.

Is every protection shift this fucking boring? Hitoshi thought as he made what felt like the thousandth round of the hall. It was an empty question, he’d spent his first Hero Work Study with Aizawa. While the nights had been dull and somewhat boring, even they had held an excitement that wasn’t present in his current position. Checking with Aizawa for the umpteenth time that morning, Hitoshi began another loop of the performance hall, checking his watch to see if he could determine how much longer it would be until he swapped positions with his dad. They’d arrived just before ten that morning and it was noon now, so hopefully only a few more hours. So for several hours Hitoshi circled the hall, navigated the small lunch area and kept his eyes out for anything suspicious.

After an additional two hours Hitoshi finally got a break in the feed of his communicator. 

“Eraserhead to Siren, I’m preparing to switch locations.” 

“Understood.” He returned. “Everything is clear on my end. Which exit?”

“Exit Three.”

Hitoshi gave a sigh of relief and quiet gratitude that he would at least be able to observe the performers, which meant time might travel faster than it was currently. As he finished his last loop of the hall Hitoshi found himself trying to figure out for the umpteenth time that day, which  students would be performing in an Aerial Silks Competition, especially since they were the same year as himself, but that left nearly 200 students to consider. Making his way to the hall marked exit three, Hitoshi opened the door and unceremoniously collided with a petite blond. 

With a gruff, “Sorry” Hitoshi proceeded on his way, paying the other individual in the hallway no mind. 

When he reached Shouta, Hitoshi tapped him twice on the shoulder and waited for a response. 

“ How’s your security detail been so far? ” the seasoned hero inquired, a single eyebrow raised in question.

“ Professional Answer? Or Personal Opinion?” Hitoshi fired back quickly. Eyes watching the coming and goings of the people around him. 

“ Either is fine, though your need to ask first speaks volumes.”

“This protective detail is almost as exciting as watching paint dry. ” Hands moving in quick motions while Hitoshi maintained eye contact.

Shouta gave a slight huff of amusement before turning to walk towards the exit from which Hitoshi had just arrived. Before exiting the hall, Shouta threw a few words of wisdom over his shoulder, “Stick to the shadows, don’t let them see you.”

No shit . Hitoshi thought to himself before leaning against the wall and waiting for the next performer to take the stage. Instead of a performer, a young lady with several eyes walked on stage with a microphone and began to speak. 

“That concludes our Quirkless Aerial Silks Division, let's give our competitors one last round of applause.” She spoke with clear articulation and a sweeping of her arms as the audience burst into a series of whistles, applause and cheers. “We now continue on to our Division - Quirked Aerial Silks! We begin again with our Junior aerialists and wish each of the competitors the best of luck.” 

Hitoshi had never watched the Aerial Silks before, he knew Eri had spent the last several hours watching videos of various performers on the internet, but he had opted to spend his time studying and ensuring all of his homework was completed. As he watched the first contestant walk onto the stage he was surprised by the individual's age. The young man looked to be around thirteen or fourteen years old with a literal head of flaming hair. Another Todoroki? He mused to himself as gentle music began to flow from the speakers, the volume building as the young man twisted and turned in the silks. 

Kind of reminds me of my training with dad. I used to get tangled up and knotted in my scarf all the time . The memory tugged at the corner of his mouth leaving a small smile upon his lips. 

For some length of time Hitoshi stood and observed as each new performer came to the stage and then left. One age category finished before the next began, a somewhat exasperated sigh escaping him as he looked at the time on his watch and calculated the approximate time until lunch in his head. We left around six this morning, a four hour car ride. Competition started at ten, it’s been two hours. Sooo…lunch should be in about an h-”

Before he could think about it further, his head shot up with the announcement of the next performer. 

“Izuku Midoriya!”

What the actual fuck!

Chapter Text

Izuku walked off stage after his performance in the Quirkless Division, his first routine of the competition finished. Taking in deep even breaths, he waited for the adrenaline to dissipate from his system. Something about performing on a stage in front of dozens of strangers always filled him with an intense thrill that he’d never been able to put words to, but it just felt right. The freedom of expression without words, letting his body do the talking for him. It was like escaping an invisible cage.

The freckled teen laughed gently at the thought of his classmates discovering he preferred not talking; that his talkative nature was simply a coping mechanism for stressful situations and awkward social interactions. He doubted anyone would believe that, even if it was the truth. Performing was the one part of Izuku’s life that made him feel completely free, which was a redundant thought considering a vast majority of his issues stemmed from keeping it a secret. 

All morning, Izuku had struggled with the fact that he had run into not one, but two people that now knew how he spent what little free time he had to himself. It bothered him to know that his mother had been incapable of keeping up the farce that she’d managed to maintain for several years. Of course, Izuku had no room to complain, he hadn’t told her about the issues with the bullies growing up until Katsuki had let it slip to his mom, and Auntie Mitsuki had informed Inko. That, however, was last year's problem. Over, done with, and preferably forgotten by all involved. Izuku was also willing to admit that Auntie Mitsuki’s headstrong nature played more than a small part in his secret being dragged into the light.

As Izuku wandered down the hallway to the room reserved for warm ups and cool downs he couldn’t help but let his mind linger on the issue of Katsuki knowing. He’d always intended to tell Katsuki eventually, but it had never come up in conversation and Izuku had never once spoken to Denki about it. On top of that, if Izuku had spoken to Denki and the blond had said no, then Izuku wouldn’t have been able to tell Katsuki anyways. If Denki had been okay with sharing it, he probably would have asked to share their secret with someone he knew too. Something which only expanded the slowly growing number of people who knew. Izuku exhaled another sigh as he contemplated how this whole thing had started.

Wanting to keep his hobby as an aerialist a secret had begun simply enough. Privacy. The quirkless kid who just wanted the social liberty to participate without judgment from those around him. An easy enough feat at first, since Ryukin was just like Izuku. It was impossible to stay a part of the Simple Silks Company if you were bigoted towards the quirkless and Izuku had spent two glorious years practicing and performing in local soloist competitions before Denki joined the company. 

Being of the same age, they had discussed a wide variety of topics and became fast friends, discovering they shared the same dream of becoming a hero. At first Izuku had been hesitant, Katsuki and he had bonded over similar interests as childhood friends, only for Katsuki to turn around and burn Izuku for being quirkless - figuratively and literally. Izuku still had the scars to prove it.

 After spending several months bonding over common interests with Denki, Izuku had explained that he was quirkless. A feat which had involved mustering every ounce of courage Izuku had in his twelve year old body. Much to Izuku’s surprise, his energetic acquaintance's response was to shrug his shoulders with a grin and tell Izuku, ‘You’re still you.’ A gesture which Izuku had rarely experienced outside of the studio. Izuku may or may not have shed tears. The two had been friends ever since.

When the boys had officially gotten into UA Izuku had asked if Denki would mind keeping their extra curricular activity a secret from their classmates. Denki had asked a few questions about the matter and Izuku had lied through his teeth about how his quirk had manifested late. Playing the late bloomer card was effective, but it also made everything socially awkward. Denki had accepted the excuse with a degree of hesitancy and everything had slowly gone downhill from there. They’d had to dodge questions and gossip from their friends, and curious looks from their teachers. To say the last two and a half years had been awkward would be an understatement.

Before they’d attended their first day of classes the boys had mentioned the matter of keeping their involvement with the Company a secret to their instructors, and although Vasha was irritated she had promised to keep it to herself. Seeing her at school the other day had dealt serious blows to Izuku’s nerves. From what he’d been able to gather, Aizawa brought Vasha in to teach at the school every year. A small fact that she and her husband had never mentioned, which was curious. Izuku was sure that if they'd mentioned their studio’s involvement in training UA students their enrollment count would skyrocket with newfound interest. The problem with that however, was that they would have painted a target on their back. 

What piqued Izuku’s curiosity was how Vasha and Ryukin had been invited to coach the students of UA in the first place. How had Aizawa met them, and why had he invited them to the school? It wasn’t lost on Izuku that the arrival of his coaches was going to complicate matters. Besides having to deal with the Bakugo's, Izuku was going to have to discover some magical method of preventing his aerialist abilities from being discovered during training. It was highly doubtful that his classmate would chalk it up to natural ability. Of course, all of this wasn’t going to make a difference if Mina so much as caught a whiff of potential gossip. 

As Izuku leaned into his next stretch he let out a deep groan, even he was unsure if it was from the relief of the stretch or in realization that Mina was going to be his biggest obstacle and she wasn’t even here. Quietly working through the last of his stretches, Izuku contemplated what he was going to do about everything that was piling up before him, only to be pulled from his thoughts by a rambunctious blond. 

“Izu!!” Denki called from the doorway as he made his way towards the other teen. “That was amazing! You killed it out there. Probably got a perfect score and everything.” 

“Shhh!!! Denki! Don’t jinx me!” Izuku cried quietly, attempting to ease the sudden number of glares from the other competitors in the room. Denki gave a slight cringe at his mistake, holding his hands up in a gesture of apology and appeasement.

“My bad, my bad. I’m just sayin’ man, you destroyed your routine in the best way!” 

Izuku gave a light huff before rolling his eyes and responding, “You also killed it out there Denki. Shine some of that spotlight on yourself would you?”

“Yeah whatever,” he replied with a shrug of his shoulders, rubbing the bridge of his nose with the side of his index finger in embarrassment.

Watching as Izuku got up from his position on the mat, Denki swung an arm around his freckled friend's shoulders, cajoling him into an awkward one armed hug. “Want to head back to the seating area and watch the other routines?”

Slightly caught off guard by Denki’s sudden physical contact, Izuku caught himself before shaking his head. “No thanks. I’ve got too much going on up here,” He said, waving a dismissive hand by the side of his head, “I wouldn’t be able to focus.” 

“All good man, we can sit down and talk. Get it all out before our next routines?” Denki inquired carefully. Hoping that Izuku would take him up on the offer. It amazed Denki how quickly Izuku always managed to send himself into a thought spiral. Much to his relief, Izuku nodded at the suggestion. Denki wasted no time navigating the two of them out of the room, down the hall, up two large flights of stairs and into a small unoccupied room with a single window. 

An initial glance of the room may have suggested it was used for storage, but the two teens had discovered the space several years back during another competition and it had become a sort of private safe haven. If someone were to inspect the room closer, they would note that the window had a perfect view of the stage floor and a series of speakers sat hinged to the outside of the window frame. Perhaps a commentators box abandoned over time. Regardless, it was apparent from the thick layer of dust on the speaker board that the room had been abandoned some time ago.

With a frustrated sigh, Izuku let himself fall to the floor. Arms and legs splayed outwards to create the image of a human starfish. 

“Dude you just finished an incredible routine, I don’t know how you can be so mopey. What crawled up your ass and died?”

“Katsuki.” Izuku deadpanned. 

“Dude. You nailed Bakugo and you’re only telling me now?!”

“What?! EW! NO! Damnit Denki.” Izuku ran his hand down his face, as he propped himself up on one of his elbows. A dead look in his eyes and a distraught grimace on his face. “That’s not what I meant and you know it. Get your nasty ass mind out of the gutter!” He groaned, bringing himself to sit upright while he leaned back on his arms. “I just meant Katsuki knowing all of this,” Izuku gestured loosely to the air, “changes shit. I don’t know what we’re going to do.”

Denki looked at Izuku, lifting his shoulders in a weak shrug. “I don’t think it changes too much. Katsuki doesn’t really gossip.”

Izuku rolled his eyes at the oversimplified response. “I don’t think you’re seeing the issue here. If Katsuki knows about our extra curricular, how long do you think it’ll take before someone else finds out. We both know I have absolutely no poker face and the fact that we’ve gone this long is a miracle. Don’t get me wrong, if we ask I’m fairly sure he’ll keep it a secret. I also know that if Katsuki has a secret he’s keeping he gets snippy and he hasn’t been snippy for a while. You know?”

Denki nodded slowly. “I’m not going to lie, I don’t know how we’ve managed to keep this shit a secret so long. Between the competitions being televised and all the sneaking around we do, someone should have put two and two together already.”

“Uuuhhh. Denki?” Izuku gave the other teen a look of sheer confusion.

“Yeah?”

“You do know we don’t show up in the broadcasts, right?” 

Upon receiving a puzzled expression and an eloquent, “Huh?” from the blond across from him, Izuku gave a huff of disbelief before explaining. “Did you not know that Vasha has been filing anonymity paperwork for the last three years?”

“Anon-imi-what-now?”

“Anonymity Paperwork. It’s one of the options we have available before competitions that ensures broadcasting companies don’t release our personal information. The company that’s been covering this particular event for the last several years has been filling our time slots with commercials. In addition to that the broadcasters cut our names and information out of the feed.” Izuku watched Denki’s face as he worked through his explanation, observing his features to determine if what he’d said made sense.

“How exactly does that work?”

“How does what work?” 

“The name thing.”

Izuku gave a sigh. “We live in the age of quirks Denki. It should come as no surprise that there are a variety of practical quirks that can aid in keeping people's identities unknown.”

All Denki could do was nod. “Is this why I can never find video of my routines after the competition?”

“Precisely. It’s also why Vasha and Ryukin have special permission to record our performances while the rest of the audience has to follow stricter policies.” 

“So that’s why no one’s ever mentioned anything to us.” 

“Yup.” Izuku popped the ‘p’. “I always thought you knew.”

“Not in the slightest. Regardless of that thought, we’ve gotten off topic. Something tells me it’s not only Katsuki you’re worried about. So who…”

“Mina.” Izuku stated flatly, the feeling of defeat apparent on his features.

It was now that Denki’s face dawned realization. “Ah shit! You’re right. The women’s a bloodhound when it comes to gossip. You so much as hint at knowing something about someone and she does not let up.” 

Izuku nodded his head in agreement. “I know. Doesn’t matter how big or how small the gossip, she’s got that shit on lock. Pretty sure if she wasn’t working to become a pro, she’d probably be a gossip columnist.”

“Ha! I can totally see it.” Denki laughed causing a shift in mood between the two teens, Izuku beginning to laugh too. “I guess the only thing we can do is talk about it with Katsuki. Worst thing that could happen is that he says no.” 

Izuku shrugged. “True enough. I’m mainly concerned that Mina will annoy Katsuki until he feels the need to blow her to kingdom come.”

“We could just come clean too. It’s an old secret, and I get why you want to keep it to yourself but don’t you get tired of not telling anyone?”

Izuku glanced at Denki curiously, “Not really. I like what little privacy I can get. Why? Does keeping it a secret bother you ?”

Denki thought carefully before he spoke. They'd been attending UA for several years, but even before coming to the school Denki had never told his friends he was an aerialist. “Yes…and no. When I was out with Monoma last night, I almost let it slip that I had a competition. I guess I’m just getting tired of making up excuses and lying to the people I care about? It isn’t normally a topic that comes up in conversation, but ” Denki stressed, “I’m proud of what we’ve accomplished. What I’ve accomplished.”

The green head beside him bobbed, temporarily storing the information about Denki being out with Monoma for a conversation at another time. “Oh.” Izuku hesitated, unsure of how to take in this newfound information. “I hadn’t realized this was something that was bothering you. Why didn’t you say anything?”

Eyeing Izuku, Denki gave a small shrug. “You’ve had a ton of stuff on your plate. I don’t want to add to your stress.”

A silence filled the room for a moment before Denki spoke again. “We’ll be trying to go pro in just under five months. Not exactly a ton of privacy when you’re out saving citizens. Someone will eventually recognize us from a competition and put two and two together. I think the only reason they haven’t yet is sheer dumb luck.”

Izuku heaved a sigh. As much as he hated to admit it, Denki had a point. A good, solid, infuriatingly accurate point. Between the thought of having to deal with Mina and Katsuki, going pro, and the aerial work their instructors would be doing with the class - the activity that he felt granted him his freedom was slowly beginning to feel like a cage, and Izuku had no intention of getting trapped.

Denki watched the varying emotions that played across Izuku’s face as his friend worked through what could only be a flurry of thoughts and concerns. If he hadn’t been watching the other so closely, he may have missed the quiet mutter from his lips. 

“What was that?”

Lifting his eyes from the floor, Izuku looked towards Denki and let his shoulders relax. “You’re right.”

It was Denki’s turn to be confused. I’m right? Me. Denki. Correct? Did I just out rationalize Izuku?

A laugh filled the room. “No need to look so bewildered Denki. You made a solid point and to be honest, with everything going on, I don’t think the secret’s going to hold together much longer.”

The blond nodded. “So we’re going to tell people?”

Mischievous emerald eyes met freckled gold. “Not quite yet. I think I have an idea, but we need to talk to Vasha and Ryukin first.” 

“Papa! Look!” Cried Eri as she sat in the plush seating of the performance hall. 

Hizashi had watched his daughter's eyes dance with mirth as each competitor had come onto the stage and performed their piece. When his favorite English student had gone on stage Hizashi had nearly lost it, struggling to hold in the loud squeal of unexpected surprise he wanted to release. Which would have ended in disastrous consequences because of his quirk. Eri was currently pointing between the stage and her papa in excitement at recognizing one of the participants.

“Kami’s here!” She stated, bouncing in her seat, only settling down when a finger was held to Hizashi’s lips. 

“He looks so pretty.” Her eyes twinkled in wonder as the music began to play. 

Hizashi had come with every intention of watching the contestants compete, but his eyes often wandered over to Eri, who seemed to have difficulty containing her excitement with each new routine. Even with one of his students on stage he still found himself watching as Eri wiggled restlessly, eyes fixated on the elegant form of a familiar face. A smile permanently plastered to adorable cheek. That’s how the majority of the morning went. Eri watching the stage and Hizashi watching Eri. 

He had observed bits and pieces of Denki’s performance, but the joy on his daughter’s face was the greatest show of all. When the announcer had called Izuku’s name several performers later, Hizashi nearly had to smothered the petite girl to keep her from screaming. Despite her excitement at seeing her self proclaimed brother Hizashi was under the impression that Izuku and Denki hadn’t wanted anyone to know about this specific hobby. He’d never overheard any of his students discussing performances - not that he was listening in on classroom gossip.

As the loud blond wrapped his arms around Eri, the two watched as green hair and freckled skin danced between two strands of silk, twisting and turning until his body looked to be floating on air. Hizashi chuckled as a small whisper of wonder escaped Eri. 

“Wow.”

Hizashi could feel his head bobbing in agreement. 

Once Izuku had completed his routine, Eri turned eagerly in her papa’s lap. “Can we go see Izuku? Please?!”

Hizashi’s brow furrowed and his smile became hesitant. “Not right now. There are still other performers to watch.”

“I wanna see IZU!” The boisterous child stated as she started getting a little louder. 

“Eri.” Hizashi said sternly, “Remember what the nice lady with the microphone said earlier. We need to stay quiet.” 

“I WANNA SEE IZU!” Eri cried again, a smattering of tears beginning to build at the corners of her eyes. 

Hizashi hesitated. Shouta and Hizashi had been trying to figure out how to teach Eri quirk control after they’d discovered her quirk activated when she started getting over emotional. Something which made saying ‘no’ extremely difficult. Ah the wonders of parenting. One child can brainwash us with a question, the other reverts time with emotions and touch.  

Giving a deep sigh Hizashi turned to Eri before speaking calm and quiet. “Eri. You need to calm down or you’ll activate your quirk. What if Izuku has to perform again and he can’t because you have a tantrum.” The man felt guilty with this line of reasoning, but he needed to be blunt and state facts if he was going to get through to her in this state. Hizashi watched as Eri opened her mouth to say something else before considering something as she looked away and closed it again.

“Now, did Izuku or Kaminari tell you they were going to be here this weekend?” He asked gently, cautious of the girl's feelings. He knew that Izuku had kept his involvement with the competition a secret for a reason - though he didn’t know the reason itself. 

“No.” She whispered quietly, with a small sniffle..

“Did Shouta or Hitoshi tell you who they were going to be protecting?”

Another sniffle and a light sigh. “No. But…”

“Eri. Why do you think none of us knew these two boys were coming?”

“But papa I wa-”

“Eri. Why?” He prodded gently, voice maintaining its stern tone.

“They didn’t want us to know?” She asked in a whisper as she looked at her lap, squeezing the fingers of her interwoven hands. 

Reaching out, Hizashi lifted her chin and looked at her apologetically. “That’s what I think too.” 

“So I can’t see Izuku?” She asked. 

Rubbing her back gently, Hizashi gave a small shake of his head, signifying a no to the child in his lap. “I’m not saying you can’t see him this weekend, just not right now. Okay?”

Wiping the tears that had been sitting at the corner of her eyes, Eri nodded quietly. “ M’kay.”

Hizashi gave a huff, relieved that she understood and an incident hadn’t occurred. 

“Papa?”

“Yeah, baby girl?”

“Can we get something to eat? I’m hungry.”

Placing Eri so she was standing beside him Hizashi got up and took her hand. “Absolutely!” Eri’s face flexed a small smile before she tightened her grip on her papa’s hand and tugged him towards the exit. 

Once they had pushed through the doors, Hizashi reached to his ears and increased the level of his dampeners. People assumed he had destroyed his hearing as a child, when in reality he couldn’t hear his own voice when he used his quirk. His voice resonated at a frequency that his own body was incapable of hearing. All of his senses were mutated in one way or another, but it was his sense of taste that had somehow affected his vocal chords. As a child everything had been too loud and too bright. Odors had invaded his senses at every opportunity, certain textures lit his skin on fire and his sense of taste was so particular he often avoided eating anything he didn’t prepare himself. Thus, the items everyone mistook for hearing aids were actually noise dampening devices that allowed him to listen to everything the same way everyone else did. Today there was noise everywhere, the music from the hall, the applause, the food court, which wasn’t anything new. Hizashi had grown accustomed to the sounds of people living their daily lives, he’d adapted. Heroes had to adapt. 

Eri continued pulling Hizashi along as they made their way through the food court. To no surprise of his she stopped in front of the WacDonald stand and looked at him patiently. Hizashi and his husband had introduced Eri to WacDonald’s her third night with them, not thinking about how she likely hadn’t had fast food of any kind before. It had been an interesting experience, watching a six year old child cry over tasting a kids meal. 

Without hesitation Hizashi ordered her usual food, and a bottled water for himself. It was rare he ate out. Basically if he didn’t cook it he didn’t eat it, though he did occasionally try premade food and had a small selection of on the go snacks that he trusted. Upon receiving their food Hizashi maneuvered his daughter towards a small table in a less populated section of the dining area and for several minutes all was peaceful.

Then Eri stopped chewing, her attention drawn to something in the distance. He watched her carefully before looking over his own shoulder to see what had caught her interest so intensely. A green haired teen was punching a shorter blond boy in the arm and without the need for either teen to turn around Hizashi knew why Eri was so engrossed. 

Turning back towards his daughter he was met with a set of scarlet puppy dog eyes, begging for the chance to go to the two familiar faces. Hizashi could feel his knees weakening despite the fact that he was sitting down. “Eri.” He warned cautiously, watching as the silver haired menace folded into herself a little at his tone. Trying again, he softened how he spoke and gave a small sigh. “Eri. We talked about this a few minutes ago. Sweetie, you know why I can’t let you go talk to Izuku right?”

Before she could reply, Eri finished chewing her food and swallowed. “Papa.” Eri returned, trying to sound stern and coming out a little grumpy. 

“Eri. No.”

“But PAPA! Izuku’s RIGHT THERE!” She shouted louder than the mustachioed man would have preferred, carefully keeping a watchful eye over his shoulder to ensure his students hadn’t heard.

“Eri. If you keep doing this, we’ll just end up going to the hotel and you’ll have to miss the rest of the performances.”

The little girl froze, eyes narrowing at the ultimatum. This time, before Hizashi could lean over the table and stop her, Eri screamed. “I WANNA SEE IZUKU!!!”

Hizashi didn’t even need to turn around to know that this time his students had definitely heard.

Several minutes late a familiar voice spoke near their table. “Eri? Yamada? What uh…w-what are y-you doing here?” 

Shota, I'm sorry. Hizashi thought to himself before putting on his usual façade of joy and excitement. While Shota hadn't explained his plan, Hizashi wasn't an idiot and could put two and two together. 

“Hel-”

“IZUKU!!” Eri squealed in joy to her papa’s mortification. “Guess what! Guess What!”

Hizashi watched, internally cursing the look on his poor student's face. He could see the conflicted expression that told him Izuku didn’t know if he should hug Eri or if he should run to the other side of the performance hall and hide in a broom closet.

Cautiously glancing between his daughter and his student, he wasn’t entirely sure what to do, and then they were joined by a second familiar voice.

“What’s got you so excited Eri?” the second voice inquired as gloved hands lifted the little girl from her seat to give her a tight hug.

“Kami!!!” She squealed in return. “I saw you and Izuku!”

“Of course you did! We’re standing right here, silly girl.” Kaminari responded. Everyone was painfully aware that it was not what Eri had meant.

“I saw you with the pretty ribbons, on the stage.” Eri spoke slower, emphasizing where exactly she had seen Kaminari. The teen laughed. 

“Ooooohhhhh” He said in an exaggerated tone. “Did I do a good job?”

Eri beamed at the boy, nodding enthusiastically as silver curls bounced. “It was beautiful. You looked like you were flying, but then when you were falling I got scared.” She admitted shyly.

“That’s okay. I practiced lots and lots so I knew what I was doing.”

The two continued on with their conversation, Hizashi and Izuku a footnote to their existence. Izuku still stood dumbfounded as he looked between his performance partner and his teacher. A look of desperation plaguing his features as he held out hope for some form of explanation. Hizashi took pity and answered the question Izuku had put forth. 

“Eri found a flier for the competition at the local grocery store and I  figured it would be a good opportunity to take her somewhere new. Eri and I weren’t expecting to run into anyone, let alone two of her favorite people.” 

“Uhuh.” Izuku responded slowly, eyes carefully observing the food court as he picked at his scarred palms. “It’s…uh, it’s j-just you and Eri?” 

Hizashi lied through his teeth, careful to make sure Eri didn’t overhear and correct him. “Yup!” He popped the ‘p’. “Just the two of us.”

Izuku nodded slowly. That was a lie.  

When he’d walked out on stage earlier, he had noticed that the usual white furred menace was not hidden within the crowd as was the norm. Izuku had spotted Nezu in the audience several times since All Might’s passing and he often wondered if Nezu had a particular reason for suddenly showing up at the events, though he had never aired the question to his principal. After the first several instances Izuku had made an inquiry of his mother only to discover that she had informed Yagi about Izuku’s extra curricular activities and that the man had insisted on coming along to insure that Izuku remained safe. 

This had been back when the League of Villains was still running amok about Japan and Izuku had initially been frustrated but soon found he enjoyed having the extra person in the audience, something he had appreciated even more when Yagi continued to attend his competitions after the League had been almost entirely eradicated.

His mother had never mentioned anything about speaking with the principal about his extra curricular activities though, and Denki would have talked to Izuku before mentioning anything to the principal. Izuku had thus surmised that it must have been something Yagi had asked of the creature before his passing, and the thought warmed Izuku. 

Make no mistake, Izuku was grateful about the fact that he didn’t need to explain anything to the menacing mammal whenever he submitted paperwork for off campus activities. If he was being completely honest it was nice to have someone other than family who got to see him perform. Denki didn’t count, after seven years performing together, he was family. 

On the thought of family Izuku’s mind wandered further down the inevitable green rabbit hole, only for his mind to remember the decision that Denki and he had come to earlier. Silent gratitude flooded his system at the thought that he had a plan in place and everything would work out - or so he hoped. Yamada and Eri were just a couple small hurdles that Izuku was going to have to overcome to reach his new goal.

“Do you want to join us for lunch?” Hizashi asked hesitantly, interrupting Izuku’s mental dialogue.

“Lunch! Lunch!” Eri cheered as Denki lowered the girl back to the ground so that she could sit in her chair and resume eating her hamburger. 

Denki passed Izuku a look, a single eyebrow raised as if to tell Izuku it was his decision. Heaving a sigh Izuku nodded, “Sure. We can’t stay long though we each have another routine in the next category.”

Present Mic nodded in understanding. “No problem listener!”

The boys disappeared to buy their food and upon returning sat at the table, digging into their food as everyone talked idly. Time flew by and before they knew it the boys found it was time to go. As they got up, but before they dismissed themselves, Izuku turned to Hizashi and Eri. “It m-may seem rather odd, but don’t m-mention this to anyone p-please? We don’t want word g-getting around school. Not yet.” 

Hizashi nodded as Eri eyed her papa with a confused expression and clarified that he would make sure Eri understood as well.

The boys seemed to relax slightly at that and with a quick hug for Eri they deposited their trays and headed back to the designated area for the competitors to sit until it was their turn to go up again.

Izuku barely managed to get behind the locker room doors before the flood of words escaped his lips. “What the actual -. Why were they -. What are we gonn-” he stuttered through a continuous list of questions without finishing any of them, Denki reaching out to grasp the other teens shoulders. 

“Breathe dude. It’s all gonna work out. Just breathe.”

“Breathe! You’re telling me to BREATHE?!” Izuku went from panic stricken to frustrated in the blink of an eye. “Denki, we went from having literally NO ONE knowing. NO ONE!” 

The blond nodded, knowing it was best to let his friend vent.

“Now Auntie Mitsuki and Katsuki know. Which I’ve already told you comes with its own host of problems. Now one of our teachers knows too. Normally not a big deal except I happen to know that despite what he told us, he tells his husband everything . In addition to that, Eri knows. I love Eri, sweet kid, practically family but she’s nine. Now riddle me this Denki, who are Eri’s tutors?”

Denki had resisted the urge to mumble that Eri would be family if he and Hitoshi ever actually figured their shit out, but he kept that particular thought to himself. Without really thinking about it, Denki answered Izuku’s question. “Midnight mostly.” Upon uttering the hero's name he began to realize where the problem was emerging.

“ Exactly . If wonderful, beautiful, innocent Eri forgets she isn’t supposed to tell anyone and she makes the mistake of telling Midnight - the biggest school gossip outside of Present Mic sensei. The entire school will know before the weekend is over, which means the plan we came up with will mean nothing.”

“I don’t think words gonna spread that fast.” Denki said, before realizing his mistake. Narrowed angry eyes glaring at him. “We have a plan, we talked with Vasha. There’s only so much we can do Izu. Besides, you asked Mic not to say anything -”

“I didn’t even mention the worst problem.” Izuku stated firmly, cutting Denki off mid sentence.

A blond eyebrow arched in question.

“Present Mic is Hitoshi’s father, Eri is his sister.”

The blonde could see where this was headed. This part seems more like an Izuku problem than a Denki problem. “Why exactly is it such a big deal if Hitoshi knows? He comes off as the strong silent type.” He knew what he was doing. It was by no means a change of topic but he was getting tired of the fact that Izuku never shared anything about himself with anyone unless pressured. Mid-competition might not be the best time for that but the man was in the middle of a melt down already. Concern be damned if Denki seized his opportunity to pry.

“You know damn well why that’s an issue Denki.” Izuku stated bluntly. 

The blond shrugged. “ You think I know why, but do I know why?” Ah. I have truly mastered the art of the stupid question.

Izuku glared at his friend before muttering under his breath. “Ilikehim.”

“Pardon.”

The freckled teen groaned. “Ili kehi m.” he mumbled a little louder. Still met with a look of confusion.

“I like him! Alright!” Izuku shouted, mindful of the fact that the hallway echoed.

“Okay. I like Shinsou too, he’s a nice enough guy.”

“Denki stop! I know what you’re doing. Just stop.”

“Nope.” Denki said. “I’m not stopping until you physically admit it out loud.”

Izuku furrowed his eyebrows. “I already said it.”

The blond couldn’t hold in the indignant laugh that escaped. “You can do better.”

“Uuuuugh FINE! I am in love with my best friend!” Izuku screamed, echoing hallway be damned. 

“Okay. I’m a little hurt that I’m not your best friend, but I appreciate the progr-” Denki began cracking a joke before he realized Izuku was still talking, tears streaming down his cheeks. Coming closer Denki listened as the words fell nonstop from Izuku’s lips.

“- but I can’t help it. Just thinking about him makes my chest hurt. I know it’s wrong, that I shouldn’t feel like that for him. I know I could never tell him because I don’t want to lose him. I can’t lose him too .” A heart wrenching sob escaped him as he continued under his breath. “I don’t understand why every time I close my eyes I see him. My dreams are plagued, my mind wanders and it all comes back shades of violet. It hurts Denki and I don’t know why.”

Denki was surprised to see Izuku in such a state. Scarred hands clutching at his chest, as his breathing became somewhat less even. Denki hadn’t meant any harm when he had prodded his friend into voicing his confession, but Denki was pretty sure he'd broken the guy and he wasn’t sure what to do.

Wrapping his arms around the larger frame of his friend, Denki pulled him close and rocked them both gently.

“I’m sorry.” Denki whispered quietly as Izuku ceased his speech and continued to sob quietly. His head nestled against the crook of Denki’s neck.

“Not your fault. I’ve got problems.” Izuku whispered as he gave a weak shrug of his shoulders.

“Being in love is not a problem, it’s just confusing some times and frustrating at others.”

“Ha.” Izuku huffed. “You can say that again.”

“Okay. Being in love is not a problem, it’s just confusing some times and frustrating at others.”

Izuku gave another huff, this time it turned into a small laugh. “Sorry I blew up at you.”

“Yeah well,” Denki started, thinking through his next words carefully before continuing. “Look Izu? I know it’s not exactly the best timing, but you keep too much shit bottled up and I can tell it’s starting to get to you. You’ve been to study group like four times this year and you don’t talk to anyone anymore. I know All Might’s death was hard on you but we’re worried.”

Izuku pulled away from the awkward hug, wiping at his tears as he looked at Denki. “I talk to people.” 

“Other than me and Hitoshi?” Denki inquired.

“I talk to Katsuki.” 

“I’m not touching that one. We both know how y'all's childhood went down and I do not want to be a duck at that pond party.”

“We made up.” Izuku commented haughtily.

“Mhmm. Who else? Necessity doesn’t count either.”

Izuku looked at the floor and groaned as he let himself slide against the hallway wall and brought his knees up to hide behind. 

“Look, I get it. All Might was a great guy and it’s not my place to tell you how long or how hard to grieve for someone Izu, but this isn’t healthy. If you won’t talk to us, have you considered talking to Hound Dog? He’s the school counselor. He’s really good too.” Denki said, nudging Izuku’s knee with one of his own.

“I can’t.” Izuku stated plainly, his voice muffled by his knees. 

“Why exactly?”

Izuku didn’t give him an answer, he didn’t want to tell Denki about how everything was his fault. He could barely admit to himself what had happened to All Might all those months ago and he had never once confided in anyone about how the death of the symbol of peace was entirely and irrevocably his fault. After all, heroes saved people. They sure as hell didn’t commit murder.

Sometime later, after Izuku had calmed down, the two teens returned to the competitor's seating to watch the routines before their own. When Vasha tapped Izuku on the shoulder to give him a fifteen minute warning the green haired athlete disappeared back to the warm up room and ran through a shorter series of stretches. 

Catching a glimpse of his face in the mirror, Izuku heaved a heavy sigh and tried not to think of everything that he’d talked about with Denki. Sitting down he ran through a series of breathing exercises to clear his mind when a twill voice rang out through the room. “Izuku Midoriya?”

Izuku turned to see a petite curvy woman with bright orange hair. “Here.” He called as he raised his hand.

“Two minutes until you’re on.” She smiled at him, adjusting the microphone on her headset.

Izuku nodded before heading towards the stage and waiting. The sound of applause sounded across the performance hall. The previous contestant came down the hall, chest rising and falling with each breath. Izuku could feel the butterflies multiply in his stomach as he listened for his name before making his way onto the stage. Before passing into the light of the stage he double checked his bass plate beneath his leotard and let his fingers hover over the right side of his head. Taking one final deep breath Izuku stepped towards the stage, stopping next to the mat in his starting pose as he waited for the music to fill the auditorium.

“Izuku Midoriya”

What the actual fuck?

‘ Like I Can’ by Sam Smith began to echo against the walls and Izuku was off with a high kick, dropping into a split before bouncing and coming back up to stand perfectly straight, arms held above his head before flipping forward. 

Hitoshi watched the stage in confusion, his brain failing to make the connection between his expectation and the reality of the situation. Dad and he were there to watch Izuku. Was this a joke? There was no way his dad hadn’t known, Izuku was in 3-A. Then again Izuku had never told Hitoshi he did this either. Not that it was an issue. Izuku looked good. Damn good.

He could be a sinner, or a gentleman

With a drop to his knees, Izuku threw his head back and placed his hands together in prayer before pushing himself up by the strength of his legs.

He could feel a familiar warmth spread beneath the surface of his skin. His face became flush as he watched the figure on stage move towards the silks. The lithe form of the man he had imagined bending in ways his mind had never tried to fathom.

He could be your preacher

When your soul is damned

Turning so his back faced the silks, he leaned back until he made a bridge, his hands gripping the bright red silks. Wrapping each hand twice, Izuku kicked his feet into the air until he was upside down, hands inches above the mat as he wrapped his legs, left then right repeating each in turn until they had been wrapped three times.

Hitoshi thought about how the woman with the microphone had mentioned that this Division was the Quirked Division. Is he using his strength quirk? A tingle ran down his spine at the thought that Izuku was using no quirk at all. Unaware that the freckled individual didn’t need to use his quirk to perform the maneuvers.

He could be your lawyer on a witness stand

But he'll never love you like I can, can

Releasing his hands in a flourish Izuku bent at the middle until his hands reached and gripped the silks again. He brought himself upright into a full split, releasing his hands and holding them out at his sides. 

Fucking flexible . The pull of the leotard against his muscled skin left little to Hitoshi’s imagination and he could feel warmth pool in places that were impractical for his location. He needed to pull his eyes away and breathe, but he found himself tracing every inch of Izuku as he wrapped himself in the silks again and again.

He could be a stranger, you gave a second glance

He could be a trophy, of a one night stand

As the music continued to play, Izuku brought himself to center, climbing the silks as he wrapped his waist, shoulders and groin. 

Hitoshi’s breath hitched as he took note of the height Izuku was climbing for the first time. At least eight feet, probably more. His angle from the side of the stage made it difficult to tell. Eyes observing with bated breath.

He could have your humor, but I don't understand, 'cause

He'll never love you like I can, can, can

On the word cause, he dropped, spinning and unraveling until he dangled by a single ankle. Grasping the silk that wasn’t attached by his ankle, Izuku pulled himself back up, letting his other ankle fall loose as he wrapped the silks under his shoulders. 

A sharp intake of air filled his lungs as he watched Izuku descend, his speed increasing as his body reached closer and closer to the ground before his movements ceased halfway down and he swung gently by a single ankle. He inhaled deeply, chest tightening with an unfamiliar feeling as he continued to stand in the shadows and watch.

Why are you looking down all the wrong roads?

When mine is the heart and the salt of the soul

Rocking himself forward Izuku swung his legs behind him catching them on the silks behind him as his chest pushed outwards. As he continued to work through his routine Izuku’s mind began to ease. A calm overtaking his previous turmoil of emotion.

Hitoshi wanted to reach out. He wanted to touch, to hold. As his eyes tracked the movements of the man before him, he began to listen to the music that reverberated off the walls - the lyrics unfamiliar.

There may be lovers who hold out their hands, but

They'll never love you like I can, can, can

They'll never love you like I can, can

Working his body through the silks, Izuku began to climb again. Before reaching the top he wrapped an ankle and lifted his other leg into a full, standing split. 

Hitoshi muffled the groan that forced its way past his lips. Trying to fight the myriad of thoughts that flitted across his mind as the meaning behind the lyrics fell into place piece by piece.

A chance encounter of circumstance

Baby, he's a mantra, keeps your mind entranced

He could be a silence in this mayhem

On mayhem he dropped, no knots to secure him, no hands gripped to the silk, completely free to fall. As he reached midway he let himself feel the tug of black whip as he let four tendrils stretch out to catch the silks, forming a large X between the two strands of silk - Izuku hanging upside down in the center of it all.

Chest heaving at the sight, Hitoshi's thoughts slipped and kept his eyes glued to the performance.

But then again

He'll never love you like I can, can, can

Using his quirk, Izuku twisted the silks around his legs and slowly let himself bend backwards until his hands could grip the silks and let the tips of his toes touch his head, knees separated above him.

Hitoshi slowly refocused, breathing shallow as he tried to think about what he was watching. What he was hearing. Could he be interpreting the words in the song correctly? Or was he just overthinking things like he always did.

Why are you looking down all the wrong roads?

When mine is the heart and the salt of the soul

Releasing his hands and his hold on black whip, Izuku brought himself upright. Gripping the silks in his hands he unwound his legs and wound his arms pointing his towns downs as he suspended himself in a ‘T’ pose using only his arms.

Warmth continued to trickle where it had no business being as Hitoshi watched the display of strength and grace. The sheer beauty of the moment pulling at his heart while his mind tried to make sense of everything.

There may be lovers who hold out their hands, but

They'll never love you like I can, can, can

They'll never love you like I can, can, can

He'll never love you like I can, can, can

Loosening his shoulders Izuku let his arms slip through the silks until he held them with only his fists. Pulling himself up and forward so that he was parallel with the ground.

Izuku thinks I like Denki. If he was interpreting the lyrics correctly was this some kind of confession. No. He doesn’t know I’m here. Maybe Izuku loved someone else? Did he lie about liking Denki ? Hitoshi was growing frustrated. What was he going to say to Izuku the next time he saw him?

We both have demons, that we can't stand

I love your demons, like devils can

After completing the pose he straightened out before leaning backwards. This time he parted his legs in a ‘V’ and made his back parallel to the floor.

How was he supposed to make sense of all of this? The weekend was supposed to be a simple observe and protect scenario and now he was being forced to confront feelings that he had been keeping bottled up. His mind was fighting against what his heart and his body clearly wanted, yet he couldn’t help but fret about the thought that if he confessed and he was wrong he could lose the one good thing in his life.

If you're still seeking an honest man

Then stop deceiving, Lord, please

Izuku straightened out again, this time pulling himself up, winding and throwing silks over various joints until he was positioned where he needed to be.

Obviously he had his Dad, Pops, and Eri. He was in the hero course working towards his dream and these were good things too. But Izuku was different, he was everything to Hitoshi. If the way he felt ever got out and he lost that, lost him, it would be like losing a piece of himself. 

Why are you lookin' down all the wrong roads?

When mine is the heart and the salt of the soul

Loosening his grip on the silks, Izuku spun as he descended the silks, twisting and turning.

Hitoshi’s heart weighed heavily as he watched his everything descend from the sky. His mind weighed heavier than his heart as he thought about what happened next.

There may be lovers who hold out their hands, but

They'll never love you like I can, can, can

They'll never love you like I can, can, can

He'll never love you like I can, can, can

Snapping his grip on the silks back into place, Izuku dangled from above the mats at the same time the last note dwindled in the hall. Coming out of the pose, Izuku stood to the sound of applause and cheers. He bowed towards the audience and waved, turning and bowing. As he straightened out to wave again, his eyes met violet. Walking off the stage, Izuku’s heart raced for a reason other than physical exertion. Hitoshi is here, but why is he crying?