Chapter Fourteen: Internship's End

"It was my fault," Izuku said. "It was my plan that got Ingenium killed."

"First of all, it was not your plan," Nighteye said. "You were the one who realized that Stain went after heroes who were, let's say, self-motivated. But it was my plan that captured him. It was my plan that got Ingenium killed. You couldn't have known that out of the eight potential targets we had followed, Stain chose Takagi." He pushed his chair back, sagging into it. Lifting his glasses, he rubbed his eyes. "Perfect knowledge? What a joke. One wrong target after the other. We should've waited until I got it correct, until there was zero possibility for error. But we were all desperate to capture Stain. Each day we delayed could've meant another hero dead. Ingenium knew what he signed up for. All heroes know. If nothing else, I hope you learn this."

"It was my fault."

Sighing, Nighteye waved him out of the office.

"There are some things you can't do, especially as a student. If you need a recommendation, let me know."

The end of internships brought Class 1-A back under the same roof for the first time in a week. Everyone greeted each other as if they had parted for years. The cheeriness of the atmosphere rattled Izuku, as if he were watching it on a screen. Eagerly, Ochako told Izuku about her experiences training with Gunhead. Mineta's field training with Mt. Lady seemed to have left him traumatized. Mina complained that all she did was evacuation and logistic support. With his hair slicked back, Bakugou looked the most changed, though not even Best Jeanist, it seemed, had been able to make any dent in his personality.

"So? How'd you capture Stain?" Kirishima said.

Conversation ceased. The class turned to him. Izuku had known the question was coming, but he hadn't expected this restless, almost primal zeal. Despite his best efforts to downplay his role, the newspapers had gotten wind that a UA student had been involved. Rumors must've floated around for days. Bakugou visibly glowered, no doubt upset at having been "upstaged." Kaminari and Kirishima planted themselves at his desk, eagerly leaning forward. Ochako and Tsu fixed him with worried glances. Iida had not shown up to class.

"I didn't do anything. It was all Nighteye and Ingenium."

"Come on, we knew you were there," Kaminari said. "Lockpick said that you rescued him!"

"Lockhead. I was the one who needed rescuing."

"I don't think this is the best time to talk about it," Tsu said.

Izuku could've hugged her. An awkward silence fell. The media had portrayed Stain's capture as an act of virtue. Ingenium's sacrifice especially had been highlighted as the pinnacle of heroism. "He gave his life to avenge forty victims," the newspapers said. Ingenium's supporters held a full night of vigil. His death was the greatest death a hero could ask for – a blaze of glory that ensured his name would live on for decades.

Did anyone understand what went through Ingenium's head as he felt his body freeze, as he felt Stain's knife prick his throat? As he knew he was about to die? Even his expression had been obscured behind his helmet. And Stain, body so worn out he could barely stand, in his last act as a free man, had committed a nonsensical murder that guaranteed nothing but a harsher prison sentence. Afterwards, against two heroes and a hero-in-training and a dozen police, he had been prepared to stand against them all. What drove him?

Izuku understood, and that was the most horrifying thing of all.

Iida came to school two days later.

"Your perfect attendance record's gone," Izuku called, closing the rooftop door behind him. In class, with everyone watching, it had been difficult to speak with him. Iida's entrance had run a current through the class, and nobody knew quite what to say. A vague sense of guilt hung over them. Iida, usually enthusiastic class president, hadn't said a word. Several times when someone called his name he had stared back, dazed, as if he had forgotten what that was. Izuku got the feeling Iida had woken up as routine, brushed his teeth as routine, put on his shoes, packed his books, arrived to school as routine, finally become the robot his suit imitated.

Lunchtime provided more privacy. The rooftop was not entirely deserted, but the day was cold, and only a few other students ate their lunch on the far side. Iida leaned against the railing, staring at the city below.

It was my fault, Izuku wanted to say, but it would be the height of arrogance to draw attention to himself now. The shame would be his alone. It was the nature of heroes to blame themselves, he reflected. Nighteye blamed himself for not foreseeing the possibility. Mirio blamed himself for not arriving quicker. Takagi blamed himself for needing help at all.

"Doing your class president duties's going to be hard if you don't say anything."

The rustle of wind.

"See anything cool on your internship? You told me you rescued some people from a fire."

The murmur of students below.

"Media's really playing up the Stain capture, isn't it? Your brother was a true hero."

Silence.

"I saw Stain slit his throat and it wasn't nearly as heroic as the media would lead you to believe."

"What the hell do you know?" Iida snarled. His voice cracked and his uniform, normally immaculate, showed signs of having been slept in. Bizarrely, Izuku found himself wondering if villains had friends, family, lovers, people who mourned their deaths as easily as Iida mourned his brother.

"What did they tell you?" Izuku said.

"They told me he died heroically. They told me he sacrificed himself to capture Stain."

"He died because of a stupid mistake. Stain was already defeated. I don't know if Stain planned it or if the opportunity fell into his lap. Stain got him as he was getting handcuffed."

Iida laughed, a wild, free laughter that mixed with the wind and started again just when it seemed to stop. The sound of it sent shivers through Izuku. Breathless, Iida rested his hands on his legs.

"All my life I looked up to him. He was the hero I always wanted to be. And you tell me – he died for no reason? He died because of a stupid mistake?"

The lie or the truth? To die heroically or senselessly? For the public, the former was preferable. Society was built on the foundations of heroism. Nothing could be allowed to mar the image of heroes. Perhaps Izuku had made a mistake in telling Iida what really happened. No doubt the authorities were trying to be kind when they told him. But some, Izuku thought, deserved the truth.

If this were a movie, this would be the point where Izuku found the perfect thing to say to drag Iida out of his despair. But real life was not so convenient. He had known Ingenium for a week. Iida had known him for fifteen years. The most Izuku had ever lost was a pet goldfish in fourth grade. Tearfully, with the aid of his mother, he had buried it in his backyard. He didn't even remember the goldfish's name. Izuku wanted to turn around and go back down the stairs and rejoin the rest of Class 1-A excitedly discussing their upcoming final exams. Why had he even come here? He was as much help as Bakugou at a meditation seminar. But when the lunch bell rang he had followed Iida to the rooftop as if it had been the most natural thing in the world, and the rest of the class, watching solemnly, had nodded.

"He's dead," Izuku said, and really, it hadn't sounded so idiotically obvious in his head.

Iida seemed to understand what he was trying to say. For a long time he stared at Izuku, or more likely a point far beyond, his eyes glassy and unfocused, before turning his gaze back to the school grounds. Did it matter how he died? Did it matter how anyone died? After all, the dead didn't care. They had no more worries, no more fears. Those selfish jerks, leaving the rest of the world to cope.

A cold wind blew. Izuku shivered, drawing his uniform closer. For the rest of lunch they waited in silence on that rooftop, and when the lunch bell rang again Izuku followed Iida back down.