Izuku woke up with a wide grin on his face, unwrapping his arm from Dabi's shoulders to reach over and turn off his alarm before it could ring. As much as he would love to just stay in bed and revel in the warmth coming from Himiko and Dabi, he had plans.
It was just before four am. Today was the day! Teaching his first class… or, as Himiko would say, 'tormenting his first class.' And Dabi would call it 'flexing your inner psycho,' but whatever. If it works, it works.
Carefully and slowly, he lifted Himiko's arm off of his chest and shimmied out from under the blankets, exiting the tent and almost slamming himself into the floor with how being stealthy messed with his movement. He just wasn't built for stealth anymore.
Pulling his shirt off over his head, he stumbled into the remaining bathroom, turning on the sink and splashing icy water on his face, drying his damp skin on the shirt he had just pulled off. He shot the mirror a grin, chuckling under his breath at the warped expression.
Grabbing his toothbrush and toothpaste, he brushed his teeth while he went through the motions of his morning routine. Picking out clothes, not that that was hard, it was just his uniform, starting the coffee pot, all under two minutes.
Spitting into the still running sink, he rinsed out his mouth before shutting off the water and leaving the bathroom, arms stretched out as he began his pre-workout stretch.
Bending down until he could touch his toes then place his palms flat on the floor, he hissed at the burn in his sleep-stiff limbs, his back cracking and popping as he slowly straightened up. "Goddamn," he muttered as he rolled his shoulders back, moving into loosening his joints. Really, he loved sharing a bed with Himiko and Dabi, he just wasn't a fan of not feeling either of his arms in the morning. Or waking up to random bite marks and singeing.
With a huff and a shake of his head, Izuku let himself fall forward to the floor, catching himself on his palms and shifting into his first set of ten pushups. The first set flew by, and he didn't even break a sweat. The second set was the same. On the third, the sweat began to flow down his arms, following the pathway of his scars on his right arm and pooling on the floor around his hand.
That was his cue. Izuku lifted his right hand, tucking it behind him as he slightly widened the space between his feet, gritted his teeth, and restarted his count.
One set. Sweat was all but pouring off of him as he pushed through the second set, curses slipping out with every repetition.
"Fuck," he gritted out as he lowered his right hand back down, folding his left behind himself as he repeated the action, his curses flowing smoothly with every repetition. One set down. As he pushed through the second set of ten, the burn in his chest nearly painful as he reached the end and slowly lowered his left hand back to the floor.
Was it weird that the pain felt good?
Panting, he rubbed at his arms as he straightened up before moving over to the coffee table and placing the top of his right foot on the surface and dropping into a split squat. One set of ten with the right up, then ten with the left, and he would be almost halfway done with his morning workout.
The burn in his thighs and calves faded to a light tingle less than a minute after he had finished, but the lunges and single-leg tricep dips would bring it back. It always did.
Those three always brought the most satisfying full-body burn.
By the time he was through with his workout, an hour had passed. He quickly changed and washed the sweat from his body, none of the mornings' stiffness present once he got around to bending down to tie his boots. The metal spikes that wrapped around the sole caught and scuffed the floor, but the extra three-centimeter height boost was worth it.
Leaving the bathroom, he switched off the light before heading over to the coffee pot, picking up a massive travel mug and patting down his pockets and the pouches of his utility belt while waiting for the pot to finish.
Phone. Notebook. Pen, pen, pen, pencil, pencil, pen. Wallet. Teachers ID. A lighter. Another lighter.
Firecrackers. Rocks. Folding binoculars. Smoke bombs. Well, those were fireworks, too, but who was going to say anything? Zip-ties. Bandana. Spare bandana. A single dirty sock… dammit, Dabi. Dabi's camcorder. Three rolls of bandages. Antisep-
Ah, coffee was done. Picking up the pot, Izuku poured the entire pot into the travel mug before setting up a second filter and grounds. Standing up, he took the pot to the bathroom, filling the water back up and putting everything back for Dabi and Himiko to make their own coffee later.
An hour and five minutes after he had woken up, Izuku was out the door, fully dressed, laptop under his arm, and ready for the day. The sun wasn't even up, but his day had started.
Izuku whistled as he walked down the hall to the elevator, drinking his scalding hot coffee on the way down and through the common room, only stopping for a moment in the kitchen, grabbing random things from his marked shelves in the fridge and cabinets. A protein bar, another protein bar, a single giant pickle wrapped in plastic, and a cup of fruit from the fridge.
Funnily enough, since the trio had been moved onto the campus, they were all eating a lot better.
It was almost as if stability was good for people.
"Oh, what a beautiful morning," he sung under his breath, spinning and skipping out the door and down the stairs in a way that reminded him of Himiko.
It was cold between the buildings, the build-up of dew on the grass coating the metal soles of his boots in a glossy sheen of water. He stamped his boots on the floor mat of the main building, leaving wet footprints and grass behind. The boots creaked as he walked, the red leather protesting the careless treatment.
All but kicking open the door to the teachers' lounge, Izuku spun into the room, the sheer force of his energy nearly knocking a sleeping-bagged Aizawa across the room. "Morning!"
Aizawa cracked open an eye, unzipping his bag halfway down his face and glaring out at the exuberant ex-vigilante. "Ugh, you a morning person or something?"
"Nope, just caffeinated to the max!" Izuku pumped his fist in the air as he picked up his folder from where he had left it the night before. Well, he had left it there seven hours ago, was that even the night before? His grin stapled to his face, Izuku set down his food and laptop at the seat in the corner.
"Ew," Aizawa mumbled as he rolled back over to try and get back to sleep. "So enthusiastic."
"Ew?" Izuku just scoffed, sitting down and popping open his laptop. A few keystrokes later, and he was looking over the setup on Battleground Beta. Almost everything he had asked for, and he had gone over the top on his requests, asking for things he had no intention of actually needing, just in case he had to drop them in compromise. Today would be fun for him, but a learning experience for 1-B.
They would see reality for what it was. Dangerous and chaotic. Unpredictable.
His grin turned sharp as he closed the laptop with a snap, standing back up and taking his travel mug and food with him as he left the lounge, hunting down a place to eat his pathetic meal.
"Oh good, it's gone," Aizawa grumbled from the couch, zipping his sleeping-bag up over his head.
Izuku popped back in the room, glaring at the yellow blob on the couch. "Hey! I heard that!"
"Good, that was the point," Aizawa's voice was muffled slightly by the fabric of the sleeping bag, but the sheer power of his exhaustion forced it to be heard.
"Ha ha, very funny boss man," Izuku said sarcastically, a frown twisting his lips.
"Go away, you…" Aizawa frowned within the sleeping bag, trying to find the right words. "You sassy child."
"Hah!" This time Izuku's laugh is genuine, a loud barking thing that echoes through the lounge and down the hall long after he's gone. "Good one, bossman." He chuckled as he walked, drinking more of his coffee as he wandered the halls, climbing the stairs and working his way to the roof. Bypassing locked doors with his teacher's ID, he finally stood on the roof, boots crunching on the gravel spread there. The sun isn't even up yet, and it won't be for, Izuku pulled out his phone, for nearly an hour.
The smirk on his face gives way to a soft smile as he sits on the gravel, leaning back next to the door and looking out on the campus. There's something so haunting about looking at the world before it awakes. Intimate and personal.
After what had happened on that fated day with the sludge villain, he shouldn't love rooftops as much as he does. But there's just something so poetic about making a home in a place where your dreams died.
He ate slowly, his coffee and food long finished before watching the clouds began to clear, and the first hints of light began to glow above the city. He set an alarm on his phone for thirty minutes and closed his eyes, letting the first weak rays of sun lull him into a dreamlike state.
He fades back to awareness before the alarm can go off, a large crow cawing at him loudly and pecking at the spikes on his boots.
"Hey, fuck off." Izuku yanked his foot away from the bird, only for the crow to squawk and attack his other foot. "What the hell!"
He rolled back to his feet, ducking a dive bomb from a second crow. "I'm leaving, I'm leaving! Fuck!" Making sure he had all of his garbage and his empty travel mug, Izuku all but ran back down the stairs, leaving the angry crows and the rising sun behind with a slam of the door. "Yeesh," he muttered, dumping his trash in the first can he saw. "Even nature hates me."
His travel mug was in the hood of his hoodie, and his hands were deep in the pockets of his jeans as he headed back to the teachers' lounge. Stopping at the door, he heard movement inside, and he pulled up his bandana before he breezed in the door. "Gooood morning!"
"Midoriya is already here?" Present Mic sat up slightly, his orange sunglasses sliding off his face and dropping to the table. "Dammit."
Midnight stumbled up from the couch, staggering over to the coffee maker. "How much sleep do you even get?"
"Uh," Izuku frowned, eyebrows scrunching together as he did quick mental math. "About five hours?"
"How?!" Even without his quirk, Yamada was still loud, his surprise filling the room with noise.
"It's the," Izuku paused for effect, then snapped his fingers. "Manic episodes."
"Oh, damn, hardcore." Yamada chuckled, trying to pick up his sunglasses only to drop them again. "Ugh."
Izuku brushed off the words with a shrug. "Oh, please."
"So," Midnight began, rubbing sleep from her eyes as she poured herself a cup of coffee. "Why was Kan freaking out about you?" She hadn't caught much, just "overkill," "ridiculous," and "gonna give me a heart attack."
Yamada nodded, "yeah, what are you gonna do to those kids?"
Izuku grinned, half-covered expression a little too manic and horrifying for this early in the day. "Oho, thank you for asking!"
Midnight spat out her coffee, nearly spilling it with the force of how much she didn't want her question to be answered. "Never mind, don't tell me anything!"
"Eh, whatever," Izuku shrugged, watching as Midnight left the coffee pot, wondering if it was too soon for him to drink another full pot. "You can just watch the video once I'm done with them."
Yamada frowned, watching the teen with his eyes narrowed as his instincts screamed for him to just go home and go back to bed. "Why did that sound so ominous?" How the hell was Aizawa sleeping with this tension in the room?!
"Ha ha, wouldn't you like to know, Mresentation Pichael."
"Not anymore, I don't!"
Monoma had a bad feeling about this.
The class was being held at battleground Beta and the entire trip there, Monoma was just waiting for something to go wrong. He fiddled with the clocks on his belt, hoping that if he made sure he had everything in order, he wouldn't feel so anxious and on edge.
It didn't help in the slightest.
Battleground Beta felt… strange. There was an odd energy over the buildings and streets of the artificial city blocks. Something was coming, he just wished everyone would listen to him when he said so! Instead, they just brushed him off and called him paranoid!
He wasn't paranoid, he was right.
But he tried his best to listen as Vlad King announced that today would be the first class taught by Target when his heart nearly stopped in his chest when the hoodie-clad figure slid down a light post, the energy of their manic grin unstopped by the bandana on his face.
"Hey-o!" Target snapped his fingers, shooting finger guns to his captive audience. He sauntered over to stand next to Vlad King, hands moving continuously as he walked. "Sup fellow kids."
"Oh no," Monoma muttered, taking a step back to the back of the group, not wanting to be in the middle of whatever sort of fucked up nonsense Target had planned for his class.
In the middle of Vlad King's daily announcement, a shot rang out, the loud crack of gunfire, and a splatter of red spread across the pavement where Monoma had just been standing. Monoma took another step back, one of his hands clasped over his heart in shock. "Oh! I was right!"
Why didn't that feel like a good thing?
Another crack of gunfire, followed by another splatter of red paint.
Target just cackled, pulling out a radio transmitter, his voice ringing out from the PA system built into the false city. He cleared his throat, "attention citizens, attention!" His voice cut through the constant sound of gunfire. "It seems you've all landed in the middle of an active shooter situation! Find the civilians and stop the shooters before the time is up!" He chuckled, watching Monoma sprint ahead of the pack, ducking into the closest building. "Oh, and if any civilians are killed, any shooters are killed, or any shooters escape, you lose."
Through the sound of gunfire, a conversation was held, the two voices level and calm in the middle of the chaos.
"So Kan, any idea who's gonna figure this out," Izuku asked as he pulled out his phone, scrolling through the app he had newly installed specifically for today.
"Don't call me Kan." Kan frowned, looking away instead of watching as his students dodged and weaved through the buildings towards what they assumed was the directive. "And obviously, Shiozaki. Or Kendo."
"You wanna bet on it?"
"No, I do not." Kan crossed his arms over his chest and let himself look, he watched as his class tore through the streets, dodging paintballs as they tried to get closer to the source of the shots, a turret set in the highest floor of the tallest building. Almost too obvious. "Well, then, who do you think will try and work with everyone?"
"Monoma, duh." Izuku rolled his eyes as he pressed a key on his phone, causing a second turret to activate, spraying down yellow paint like a semi-automatic.
"What." Kan blinked, trying to force his brain to process what he had heard. "You know what, I will take that bet," he said, for too enthusiastically.
He had nothing against Monoma, he just knew the kid had a hard time working with others.
"Three thousand on Monoma putting together the first team," Izuku said casually, one hand still in his pocket. He kept his gaze locked on his phone, the glint of smug certainty in his eyes hidden by the reflection of the screen.
"One condition," Kan raised a finger, hoping this would make the bet work in his favor. He couldn't lose money to a fifteen-year-old, he would never live that down. "The team can't be based on quirks he can use best."
"Deal," Izuku said, far too readily as he loved his phone.
Kan stuck out a hand, Midoriya pulled his other hands from his pocket, grasping it surprisingly firmly, and they shook on it.
"Prepare to owe me money, Fangtastic Wonder," Izuku said with a grin that widened by fractions when he saw the look of irritation flash over his co-worker's face.
Vlad King couldn't take his hand back fast enough. "Don't call me that."
"No problem… knock off Dracula."
"Don't call me that, either."
Neito can say with one hundred percent certainty that he hates this.
Running through the hell Midoriya had planned out for his first-ever class?
He hates it with a burning passion.
Well, he doesn't hate how his class is the first one being taught instead of 1-A, but everything else? It's awful. Dodging red and yellow paintballs, he ducks into another building, locking eyes with the others already hiding there, all of them smudged with dirt and sweat.
Rin Hiryu. Quirk, Scales. An all-rounder with his quirk and his personality.
Kodai Yui. Quirk, Size. Silence is her middle name. And her first name. And her last name. What I'm saying is she's quiet.
Kamakiri Togaru. Quirk, Razor Sharp, and with a cutting personality to match it.
"I don't care what anyone says, Target is the fucking worst!" Rin grumbled, wiping his cheek where he had slammed into the pavement as he tried to dodge a paintball. Without his scales, he was sure half his face would be left on the street.
Wasn't this a bit much for the first day?
"Nah, he's cool, intense and terrifying, but super cool," Kamakiri corrected, using one of his blades mirror edge to check around the side of the building, jerking his arm back when a cluster of paint whizzed by.
"You just like his knives," Kodai said cooly, impassively watching the halfhearted and breathless argument in front of her.
"You know it!" Kamakiri grinned, the expression lost in the blades that framed his face.
Monoma leaned out the door, jerking back when a yellow, no, a green paintball whizzed past and splattered across the ground. Three fake shooters now? Wasn't that a bit much?
"I feel like there's something we're not getting," Monoma whispered as he squatted by the open door, watching as one of his classmates, Tsubaraba, was hit square in the chest by a spray of paint, red and yellow mixing across his hero costume and bleeding into the fabric. He had tried to block with his hardened air, but the paintballs had just torn straight through the still forming barrier with an intensity Monoma was sure that normal paintballs could never achieve.
The PA system crackled to life, and an intake of breath sounded over the false city. "Oh, looks like we've got a casualty!" A sinister yet playful laugh came over the speakers. "Will Tsuburaba Kosei please feign death and not move until the end of the simulation? Thank you!"
Curled up on the ground and clutching his chest, Tsuburaba nodded weakly, raising a thumb in acknowledgment before wrapping his hands over the rapidly forming bruise.
Rin winced at the display, deciding he was not going to get hit, no matter how many times he had to slam himself into the pavement. "Didn't he say there were civilians?"
"Heroes are supposed to save people, not fight villains," Monoma muttered as it all clicked together. He knew what Target wanted from them. With an overly serious aura, he turned back to the group, the intensity radiating off of him in waves. "Do you want to work together? We can cover more ground and help more if we're not all working on our own."
If Monoma had been listening, he would have heard a loud crow of victory from his new mentor/tormentor, and a grumble of dismay from his homeroom teacher.
"What, you don't want the glory?" Kamakiri's lip curled sarcastically, but he watched Monoma with a level gaze.
"That's what this is about, isn't it?" Monoma asked far too seriously, not blinking as he watched the others. It was almost scary how he could flip the switch and be so rational.
"What are you talking about," Rin asked, trying to calm his brain after the mad dash for cover.
"Saving people, not saving the day," Monoma continued, his brain working double-time to connect the moral standards of Target with their lesson.
"Wow, damn, you got me in on this." Rin stood, brushing himself down. "Besides, it's better than just sitting here and doing nothing.
"Hmm." Kodai nodded once, adjusting the brim of her hat, casting her face in shadow. "I… suppose I'll join in on this." She picked up some scraps of wood, shrinking them in her palm, saving them for later. "Teamwork and all that."
"Let's save some lives?" Kamakiri frowned, the expression barely there with the way his blades framed his face. "Does he have people playing civilians?"
"Like who?" Rin raised an arm, sending out a volley of scales to block the cluster of paint that sprayed their way. "Duck!"
Kamakiri rolled his eyes, but obeyed, ducking down to avoid being shot in the face. "Damn, does he have more fake shooters now?!"
"Red, yellow, green, blue, white," Monoma recited the colors he saw as he ducked and weaved his way to the larger buildings where the turrets were centralized. "Looks like there's five of them." For now, went unsaid, but the words still resonated.
The four of them finally made it to the first building with a turret on it, yellow paint raining down around them as they rushed inside, checking rooms in search of something when they stopped in shock.
Well. That was a way to do things.
Target did not have people playing civilians. That would be too rational, wouldn't it? Instead of people, the small room was full of the tiny medical and security droids, huddling in the corners of the room and scuttling next to the walls.
Almost as if they were nervous.
"This is Humiliating."
"I'm a medic, not a hostage!"
"I'm just a camera!"
The robots were… Monoma blinked twice, trying to understand what he was looking at, but nothing he could come up with explained anything in the slightest. The robots were wearing tiny hats with 'civilian' printed across them, some of them with labels taped to their… chest area, stating if they were children or adults. Elderly or injured.
There were a few labels on the ground, the robots without labels avoiding… looking at the pieces of dropped paper. Maybe they hadn't fallen off on accident.
"Okay," Monoma began slowly, "I am no longer sure what to do."
"Secure civilians, get them… where do we get them," Rin asked, glancing out the window to the chaos below. A few more of his classmates were on the ground, feigning death or critical injury. They couldn't take the 'civilians' out of the building, they were all but pinned down in here.
"Maybe we just need to secure the room?" Kamakiri frowned, eyes narrowed as he
"Think, what's the protocol for… whatever this is?"
"I don't know the protocol for domestic terrorism!" Kamakiri threw his hands up in the air, his tattered black cloak rustling with the movement. "Does anyone?!"
"I don't know," Rin snapped back, "domestic terrorists do?!" Shaking his head, forcing himself to calm back down, Hiryu took a step back. The close proximity and the tension was putting him on edge.
"We need to block the door," Rin began, glad that his visor hid his expression of concern. This wasn't something heroes trained for. They were just kids! Even pros wouldn't know what to do with something like this!
Almost as if he knew what he was thinking, Monoma asked, "maybe that's the point?"
"What?" Kamakiri just tilted his head to the side, giving off the energy of a confused predator.
"Yeah, what he said," Rin chimed in, just as confused.
Kodai said nothing.
"Heroes aren't trained for this, but maybe we should be?" Monoma shook his head, his words devolving into mutters. "Okay, so… lock down the windows, doors, then hunker down until we're given the all-clear?" He cleared his throat, raising his voice once more. "I know it sounds cowardly, but what do people say in situations like this?"
"...they say, 'don't be a hero,'" Rin muttered, eyes narrowed and brow furrowed behind his visor. Was this what the lesson was? Learn when to stand down?
"...fuck, when did Monoma become the voice of reason," Kamakiri blurted out, stress sweat slicking his green hair to his forehead. "I don't like the idea of just waiting here like some kind of coward!"
Almost on cue, the PA system crackled to life once again, "and the first two shooters have been taken down! We've only got," there was a dark chuckle that gave way to more disturbingly bright-toned words. "Three dead heroes and two critically wounded! Time is over halfway up, and only four of you understand the purpose of this exercise," Target almost sounded disappointed with them. "Get a move on."
Rin cocked his head to the side, chewing on his bottom lip as he processed the announcement. "I was right?"
Were they the four that got it?
"Right. Right." Monoma ran a hand through his hair, searching the room for something they could use to bar the door. The room was empty except for themselves and the civilian bots. And dismantling them would probably be an immediate failure.
His hand landed on his clocks, fingers running over them in an attempt to soothe himself.
An idea struck him, and he yanked the first clock off of his belt, twisting open the casing and exposing the springs and gears within. "Kodai, we can use the clock, the insides! Your quirk," his words poured out, jumbled and nonsensical with the intensity of his lightbulb moment.
Yui just blinked slowly and watched as Monoma somehow became more flustered and energetic, repeating himself and speaking in circles. She glanced over to Rin, and the other teen nodded, reaching out a scale coated hand and smacking Monoma on the top of the head.
"Guh-" Monoma frozen place, eyes crossing for a moment as his brain was forced to restart.
"Wow, he sure can talk a lot and say nothing," Kamakiri grumbled, the blades of his quirk popping out of his skin and immediately retracting.
Silently, Yui reached out and took the disassembled watch from Monoma's hand, picking through the pieces and setting aside a few gears and the watch case. As Monoma recovered, she turned and set the watch case against the door before activating her quirk, the case growing in size until it covered the entire door and part of the wall. She repeated the process with two of the gears, placing one on each side of the case, covering nearly a third of the wall in the process. "Mhm."
"Geh?" Monoma blinked once, twice, before he realized what had happened. "Ow!" He rubbed at the stinging spot on the top of his head, glaring at Rin before he noticed the barrier Kodai had built. "Oh. Great job!"
Kamakiri blinked before curling his lip in a sneer. "I think you broke him, he's being polite."
"Rude," Monoma grumbled, folding his arms over his chest.
"Yeah, you're supposed to be," Kamakiri snarked, doing his best to avoid looking at the 'civilians' that were beeping and clicking amongst themselves. They were incredibly distracting. He didn't like just sitting and waiting for others to do the hard work, but he got it.
He would only be a hindrance out there. There were others who could do it faster than he could. Better than he could. He should just stay back and out of the way.
He didn't like that, but it was the truth, right? And you don't have to like the truth.
"So I guess we just… wait here?" Rin hesitated before leaning back against the wall and sliding down, part of him thankful for the rest from the chaos outside.
"There's nothing else we can do," Monoma replied, still rubbing at his head.
So they just hunkered down, leaning against the walls, their frustrated and nervous quiet interspersed with complaints from the fake civilians. But they had learned a lesson, hadn't they? Not everything was as it seemed on the surface.
As soon as the buzzer had sounded after the drill, Izuku could barely contain his excitement as he dismissed the class, promising grades and assessments at their next meeting. But he had made sure to mention by name the four students that seemed to have understood the exercise.
Once the class was dismissed, he turned on his heel, sharp spikes on the soles of his boots gouging through the dirt under his feet. The class hadn't left to change back into their uniforms yet, they just stared.
He would never forget the feeling of twenty looks of hatred boring into the back of his skull as he walked away, whistling shrilly and out of tune, hands in his pockets and shoulders back as if he couldn't care less. But he did care, that's why he was doing all of this. Doing it for them.
Preparing them for a cruel future heroes aren't trained for. Preparing them for reality.
Speaking of reality, it was time for him to get back to his job as a teenage teacher-slash-internet celebrity-slash- three-time murderer who also used to be a vigilante. Reality.
He walked with a spring in his step as he approached the heroics building, catching sight of a familiar figure outside the door. Izuku broke into a slight jog to catch up to Vlad King, slapping the hero on the shoulder once he reached him. "Oi, Fangtastic!"
Kan kept his features unexpressive, but the slight tensing of his shoulder under Izuku's hand gave away his surprise. He blinked once, his gaze flicking back to the stack of papers in his hand before he replied, "you used that one already."
"Hmm." Izuku nodded, taking his hands and clasping them behind his back as he matched his colleagues' pace as they walked through the halls. He had used that name before, hadn't he? Looks like it was time for a change. "Blood Sucker?"
"I don't suck blood." He scowled before adding onto his statement. "And I'm not a vampire, so don't even try it."
"Fine, dude who owes me money, how's that for a nickname," Izuku snapped, extending one hand, holding it out flat as he stepped past and in front of the hero, facing him with a pointed look, walking backwards through the hall. "Eh, whadda you think?"
Izuku lifted his feet slightly as he walked backwards, trying his best not to gouge the tiled floor. He kept it up even as he rounded the corner, still staring expectantly with his hand outstretched, trying his best not to show how proud of himself he was over that maneuver.
"I think I prefer Fangtastic." Kan scowled, reaching into his pocket and pulling out a fold of bills, dropping it into Midoriya's waiting hand. "Here's your money. Don't spend it all in one place."
"Sure thing, dad, " Izuku rolled his eyes, counting through the bills as if hassling adults by taking their money and calling them dad was normal for him. And hell, Vlad King knew nothing of Midoriya's life, maybe it was normal for him. "So, want to go over the footage, see where it all broke down?"
"Fine."
"I also wanted to talk to you about costume revisions… specifically the fact that those are all just… bad." He pocketed the cash before sucking his teeth and amending his previous statement. "Well, aside from Shoda, and he just needs better materials."
Maybe it was the fact that Shoda's quirk worked best in close-quarter combat, or maybe he had some sort of understanding of how dangerous this could really be.
"They're children," Kan answered, pushing aside for a moment the fact that Midoriya was actually right about this. How did Midoriya expect high schoolers to know about hero uniform practicality? They barely knew half the things about their quirks!
And classes on this subject usually weren't held until second year!
"I'm a children!" Izuku rolled his eyes, gesturing to himself and his own uniform, slapping his hand on his chest. It was practical and moderately fashionable if he said so himself. "Don't even get me started on Shishida. Wear a shirt, like, fuck dude." His mind was already putting together plans of how to neutralize that threat. Most of them involved kerosine or some other flammable or combustible substance, and a match, but without a shirt and with all that exposed fur, that sort of attack would be much more harmful.
"As for Shiozaki… damn, like, why?" That was basically just a toga, not even a dress! Too much loose fabric, too much risk. "That's just insanity!"
And speaking of Shiozaki, if he watered her vines, would they grow? Could they bloom? He would have to check that later. Probably with a watering can and surprise ambush… he kept babbling about elemental exposure and lack of protection before he forced his parallel thoughts back onto one track.
Kan said nothing, silently walking beside the ranting teen on their way back to the classroom. He had the feeling any words he said would just be ignored, anyway. He had a feeling Midoriya ignored a lot of things said to him.
The kid obviously had high standards for everyone, expecting them to be better and smarter than himself. It was almost sad
"Is it just aesthetic? Because unless it's a religious requirement, I'm making her change it, she needs some kind of protection!" Izuku shook his head, already planning alternate uniform bases even as he spoke. Preferably something armored, but subtly so. "Because criminals don't care about your aesthetic, they will pull your clothes off and leave you nude on the street."
Kan froze, nearly dropping his papers in shock, whipping around to stare at Midoriya before blurting out, "what kind of crime are you fighting?!"
"Fashion crimes, obviously." Izuku attempted to flick his hair back dramatically, but only managed to look like he was losing his balance and mind. He laughed, reaching for the door to the teachers' lounge.
Kan wasn't sure he wanted the answer, but he still felt the question slip out before he could stop it. "...why are you like this."
That was a question Izuku ran into far too often.
'Why do you do this?'
'Why are you like that?'
'What made you like this?'
'What's wrong with you?'
"Why am I like this?" He paused with his hand on the doorknob before he reached back and scratched his cheek through the bandana, blinking slowly before settling on an answer. "Maybe I want to be."
His words hung there until he stepped through them and through the door. It was the first time he had ever seriously answered that question, and it just felt right.
He wanted to be like this, and was that so wrong?