AN: Daily updates might not continue once the Corona lockdown in my city is loosened. Also if you enjoy this fic, please check out my other fics on my profile.

The class with Midnight to choose their hero names came fast. It was the first time that Izuku had realized that he had absolutely no idea what kind of name held enough meaning for him to make it his hero name.

He remembered various moments in his childhood where he had used captain this and that, but somehow he felt he had shifted from the aesthetic of a westernized hero that All Might had created in the country.

It was, when looking at Yoroi Musha, a thing of the past to pick a name that was exclusively Japanese. He knew Momo had chosen hers quite a while ago, though she had always been rather coy about what it was.

When she turned the sign around at her turn, it came with an epithet. 'Creation Hero: Creati'. While she had been working on the Breath of Stone, her quirk had become something of an afterthought in some regards. It was difficult to use both in tandem before the mastery of the former, and Nezuko-sensei had suggested looking into being less traditional, similar to how Izuku had approached his own techniques.

"This name is a promise to myself," Momo said. "It may not be the most profound name, but I'll stand by it. My quirk defined my childhood, and I will push it to its limits."

"Love it," Midnight said, giving a thumbs up. The rows continued, until it was his turn.

"Alright then, Midoriya!" Midnight said, pointing at him. "What's it gonna be, little town samurai? The dark and gloomy Ronin? Or maybe a reference to the samurai of old? Show me what you've got."

Izuku laughed softly, trying not to feel too embarrassed about it. He turned the sign around, reading the name to everyone.

"Kagura," Izuku said, holding the small sign up. "It has meaning to me due to my teacher."

"Very traditional," Midnight said, giving a nod of approval. "And very old school, too. I like it."

So they moved on.

Izuku dreamt.

It was not of Shisui, but of someone of Shisui's blood. A young man, holding a blade. He stood on a battlefield, not facing demons but people. In front of him an army, behind him a mountain of corpses.

He held the sword in a tired grip, his breath was shallow, his eyes had the resolution of a man prepared to die.

The scene washed away, and Izuku found himself seated atop of still waters. Any motion other than breathing caused ripples. He tried to stand, but found that he could not.

It was not Urokodaki who had joined him today. It was a man with shoulder long blond hair, red highlights sitting in it almost like feathers. His eyebrows were an angry black, splitting towards the edges away from his face.

He did not come with tea, but with a bottle of sake. Rather than pour it into cups, he was drinking from it like it was going out of style. They sat in silence for many moments more.

"There's a lesson to be learned from those who came before us," the man spoke up once his bottle was empty. "That those who try their hardest to protect everyone are those who will end up losing everything."

"Is this the afterlife?" Izuku asked, frowning. "Purgatory?"

It wasn't the first time he was here. These strange dreams that Nezuko had simply shrugged off, presumably normal for those who pick up the blade. It wasn't like he had a proper measuring stick for it, and otherworldly experiences could have a variety of reasons.

He wasn't sure why, but the man simply grinned.

"But then again, I suppose that there are those who defy absolute virtue and exceed it," the man said. "That hero of yours, the man whose heart beats with flames that have become nothing more than embers."

"You mean All Might?" Izuku wasn't sure he liked that description, but it was an observation he had made himself. Something he dared not ask in fear of an answer.

"The very same," the man said. "I want to impart a lesson unto you, as a man who has lost his son to a foolish fight. Strike while the iron is hot. Hesitation is defeat. Burn brighter than the Sun."

Izuku's frown deepened. "You're not making much sense."

"Of course I'm not," the man laughed, dropping the bottle and standing up. "I'm a drunk old man!"

He pulled a sword from somewhere. It was red, but not deeply so. The man went into his stance. Flames danced at the tip of his blade.

Izuku stood as well.

Eri was an early riser. After a solid time at Nezuko's home, his master had told him she had stopped waking up at every other sound in the night.

So Izuku had arrived just as early as she woke up for breakfast. He had sent out his application for the internship at Yoroi Musha's agency, and he wouldn't start until next week. This gave him some free time, which was best spent training and spending time at Nezuko's house.

It was a bit too early for anything interesting for Eri to be on TV, instead settling on an early morning news show.

"Izuku-nii," Eri said. Izuku blinked, turning to her. She held up her fork with a few bits of pancake on them. He smiled, taking the bite and making an exaggerated noise of joy. She smiled back. That was good.

"Don't share too much with him," Nezuko said. "You need to grow strong, if he eats too much he'll just get fat."

Izuku shrugged, taking a bite from his own meal.

He wasn't good with keeping up with news, but something sounded off. He focused better on what he could hear.

"The discontent with the current situation is rearing its head in the streets of Tokyo, where protesters have gathered around the National Diet over their callous disregard for human lives, as well as justice for the people who have been killed by one of the test subjects escaping from the facility," the caster said. The feed from the protest came up. Thousands of them gathered and shouted. "Despite the evidence to the contrary, members of the National Diet, and the Minister for Health, Labor and Welfare in particular, have claimed that the project RS-9 has never been approved by them."

Izuku's ears twitched. Where had he heard that before? No, not heard. Seen.

Izuku stood up from the table. Eri looked towards him, then his plate, which he had left barely touched. When he turned the corner into the living room, the image shifted from the caster. It now showed the parliament building, almost completely surrounded.

The signs they held up had names on them that Izuku could recognize. Faces that he had seen before. AIzawa briefed him on them, after all.

The escaped test subject was… the demon?

Heroes and police were gathered around, trying to keep the situation in check. The feed stopped. The caster was visible, a young woman with an almost too happy expression about the state of Tokyo.

"We have received confirmation that the research facility's owner is currently pending arrest."

The image that came up was subtitled with a name.

But Izuku didn't need that to know who he was.

He didn't really look like in the pictures, where he was smiling and fatherly. His hair was slicked back, on his face sat small rimmed glasses, and his eyes were almost lifeless and cold. It was the last name that made his legs give out.

Izuku fell with a thud, his knees scraping against the wooden floor. He heard a sound behind him, Eri standing up from the table to toddle towards him. She didn't ask what was wrong or if he was alright. She walked around him and wrapped her arms around his head.

Izuku turned his head towards the door to the living room where Nezuko was standing now, one hand of his own on Eri's head.

"You knew," Izuku said. Not an accusation or a question. A fact. Nezuko nodded. "Is that why you moved here? Because I'm… that?"

"No," Nezuko said. "Take a seat, this conversation will take a bit."

Izuku wasn't sure if he could have kept himself on his feet if it hadn't been for Eri. If he fell again, he might hurt her, so he took shaking steps towards the couch and sat down.

Nezuko took a moment, beckoning Eri to join her on another couch instead of bothering Izuku. Of course, he seemed out of it, but…

"My mother," Izuku said. "She works with him."

She might get arrested. If she was a researcher for the RS-9, she might end up sharing the blame for the… he glanced towards the screen. Five hundred sixty two. He felt sick. He trusted her, every day, unconditionally. He loved her, his mother right or wrong.

And now this.

"Your mother is a good mother, with the one fatal flaw all good mothers have," Nezuko said, brushing her fingers through Eri's hair. The girl looked already ready for her nap, despite the early hour. "She cares so much about you, she would burn the world to the ground if it meant keeping you safe."

"You've lied to me," he said. His voice was calm and steady, but inside him was a raging storm. He was angry. Beyond angry at this point. It was the most familiar and uncomfortable feeling he had, but the intensity was too much, the lid he could usually put over it was blown off. "You've been lying this whole time."

"I have never lied," Nezuko said. "Though I imagine to you the difference is minimal. I didn't know the circumstances of their work, or their research. When I had heard that your father uprooted every bit of Ubuyashiki land, I was curious, but not overly concerned. Had I known that it was Muzan's cells and demonification, I would have killed him years ago."

It was a simple statement, yet it caused a pang of something in him. The word 'kill' caused Eri to shudder for a moment before she drifted off again.

She wasn't omniscient. She wasn't perfect.

So maybe she didn't know.

Or maybe she didn't want to know.

"Calling it chance would be selling it short, but calling it fate would be too mystical. We make our own fate," Nezuko said, looking at the TV screen. "I moved here on a whim, aware of your mother's connection to the Ubuyashiki family. I didn't know she had a child. I didn't expect said child to overrun me with the desire to become a hero."

"Did my mother know?"

"About me? Almost certainly," Nezuko said. "When she started working again and sent you to me, I knew it was nothing more than an attempt to make me protect you. And I couldn't say no to someone so earnestly worried about their child."

"You could have told me earlier, once you trusted me."

"You're a child, Izuku, even if you're approaching adulthood. There's a responsibility we adults have to take when it comes to children."

"You can't do this," Izuku said, shaking his head. "You can't switch between calling me a child and demanding I'm a Slayer at the drop of a hat. You can't just use whichever interpretation is more generous to you at the time."

"I shouldn't, but we are more than just one thing, and some parts of ourselves handle different stressors better or worse."

"So what am I now then?" Izuku asked, his teeth clenched. He stood up, slapping his hand on his chest. "Am I a child? A hero? A Slayer? Your student? Because I don't know anymore, right now I just feel like I'm a puppet that's being pulled into every direction."

"You are Izuku, with all that contains."

"My parents are murderers!" Izuku's shout woke Eri up. She didn't cry. She never did, but the sight of her frightened face was enough to stop him. He opened his mouth, closing it again when the apology for waking her didn't come out. He sat down.

"We are not who our blood makes us," Nezuko said sternly. "We are who we choose to be."

"And I chose to become this," Izuku said, pointing at himself. He was sure he looked like a mess. His face was flushed and red, his eyes glistening with unshed tears that felt too cheap for the emotions that were tearing him apart from the inside. He wanted to scream, he wanted to smash something, he wanted to see about getting a therapist at this point. "I fought because I wanted to help people, and instead I'm having to fix the mess my family is leaving behind!"

If a demon made by his parents killed a person.

No, not if.

Somehow, those five killed by the Serpent Demon weighed much more heavily on his mind. It was the fruit of his mother's research.

"I have never felt more inadequate as a master than I have now," Nezuko said. The disappointment in her voice would have crushed Izuku had it been aimed at him.

"Your self-flagellation does nothing to ease this," Izuku said bitterly. Nezuko nodded. Words were empty.

"Do you remember what I have told you earlier this week, about the fools and the cautious ones?"

Izuku nodded slowly. Her eyes moved to the TV again, and this time Izuku followed.

"I'm afraid this has turned the cautious ones into fools."

"Why would someone of that family go this far?" Izuku asked. "Were they not cursed by their relation to Muzan?"

"Never underestimate the ignorance of those who forget the past," Nezuko said. "They are doomed to repeat it. Eventually, power and influence corrupts. Your father is no exception to this, he once approached me to convince me for a donation of my blood, his eyes lacked the warmth of humanity."

"He's a monster," Izuku said, cradling his head in his hands. He couldn't breathe. This home wasn't the reason, it was the whole neighborhood. "I'm the son of a monster."

Just this once she did not have any comforting words for him.

He wasn't sure he wanted any. He stood up, grabbing his bag on the way out.

He had to find his mother.

Tenko wasn't very happy.

He rarely was, really. Happiness was something of a privilege to those who didn't have any worries, or the ability to ignore those. Unfortunately for Tenko, he wasn't the best at ignoring his troubles. He was kind of fucked up in the head, he had once upon a time caused the death of his entire family which contributed to the whole 'fucked up' thing, and his quirk has since grown stronger to the point where he had to be careful not to dissolve a tree on accident when relaxing in the park.

But today he was decisively unhappy. He knew that his benefactor was struggling with her work, he also knew that the person who had blown the whistle might only have delayed the inevitable. If the station was being shut down, and the bastard who ran it was on the run, this meant that they would either relocate somewhere, or much more likely, wipe all evidence away.

Evidence like the brains of brilliant researchers who had been worked to the bone in their ridiculous experiments.

Evidence like Inko Midoriya. The TV dissolved into dust and sparks with a swipe of his hand and grabbed his phone, holding a single number for a few seconds.

He was probably the only person who had this number. It was something he would usually mock Stain with, over how much the man liked hanging out with him that he actually gave him a way to contact each other instead of the usual one-sided back alley doctor approach.

"Hey, Stain," Tenko said, his voice cold. "You really like villains with high body counts, don't you?"

"Cut the crap and get to the point, Shimura."

"Say we had a man who funded five hundred deaths over the past four years in human experimentation, as well as blackmailing people into the project," Tenko said, already taking out another phone to write his contacts. "How much would that be worth it to you?"

Stain didn't answer immediately. After a few seconds, Tenko could hear the sound of leather straps attaching Stain's gear being tightened. "You know where he is."

"No," Tenko said, "but I think I know where the people who know are. The doctor's name is Daruma Ujiko. If anyone knows where the fuck the RS-9 leadership is hiding, it would be him. Be prepared for a fight. He's working on some ridiculous bullshit."

"You want money for that info?"

"No," Tenko said. "This is personal."

"I'm not your executioner," Stain said. "What do you get out of this? I want to know."

"If we don't take him out, he'll hurt someone who is like a mother to me," Tenko conceded. "You know how important family is, Stain. We've had this talk before."

"Just this once," Stain conceded as well. "Get your things in order. We're going to war."

Chapter 22, upcoming:

The Armor-Clad Warrior

"Even when you are faced with your greatest enemy," Yoroi Musha said, his rough voice bolstered by the echo of his spartan office walls. Izuku held his palm against the back of his sword's blade, trying to push the man back. Yoroi Musha's other fist came down. "You must strike with kindness!"

Kindness hit him with the force of a truck moving at fifty miles an hour. The armored gauntlet smashed into his side, sending him into the wall. The difference in strength between them was obvious.

"Someone whose eyes are clouded by such hatred has no place in being a hero," Yoroi Musha announced. He cracked his knuckles as Izuku fell from the wall onto the ground, wheezing. "So strike at me. I will accept your hatred and fury. I shall meet your frustration and sadness blow by blow. Cut me, Kagura, until nothing but kindness is left in your blade."