Mild vomit warning towards the end. Also, tysm for all the favorites and follows. It means the world ! ! !

"Hey nerd, come look at this," Bakugou said while Izuku slipped on a clean pair of socks. They were currently changing in the locker room and had just finished swimming laps in the pool.

Izuku's entire body was sore, but he felt good. He had hardly run into any criminals last night and was able to get in a couple of extra hours of rest which never happened anymore. The greenette was lucky if he ever slept for more than half the recommended amount a day.

His savior?

Caffeine.

And lots of it.

From gas station energy drinks with All Might's photo on them to the steamy cups of coffee he ordered from the cafes he and Bakugou studied at, Izuku had found his fix.

Although whenever he was with the blonde, Izuku had to pretend it was hot chocolate. It saved him the trouble of dealing with Bakugou's outbursts.

He still remembered the first time the blonde had caught him drinking espresso. They had just finished studying at one of their favorite shops called By the Sea, a small cafe that overlooked Takoba Beach and designed every drink after an animal from the ocean.

Izuku had ordered his usual, the Crabby Coffee, a kind of red-eye drink that always helped him get through the night. But Bakugou wasn't having it at all.

"Coffee?! At this hour? Hell no," the blonde knocked the styrofoam cup out of Izuku's hands before he could bring it to his lips. "It's like you want to be up all night."

Oh, believe me, I do, Izuku thought with a sigh as he bent over to pick it up. The small amount of liquid still in the cup sloshed around, eventually settling at the bottom of the cup. A bit of sand had managed to get inside too. Izuku wrinkled his nose.

"Kacchan," he pouted, "that cost me five hundred yen."

Bakugou simply rolled his eyes and handed him money. Izuku had no choice but to take it. He knew better than to reject Bakugou's help by now.

"Well then hurry up and go buy something that won't turn you into a fucking zombie."

Izuku found himself snickering at the memory as he limped towards where Bakugou stood. He squinted at the paper and almost squealed. A picture of the pro hero Gunhead was on the cover, the familiar puffy green hair and mask hard to miss. He wore some kind of karatagi and held two thumbs up. The words above his head read, 'Self Defense at Gunhead Martial Arts Academy' and had a list of dates and times all highlighted in yellow.

"G-Gunhead Martial Arts?!"

Izuku took a step back and collided with one of the people stepping out of the bathroom. The guy shot him a deadly glare and Izuku quickly muttered an apology before shuffling back over to Bakugou.

"Who was that, Deku? I'll break his face," the blonde growled, but Izuku was too focused on the flyer to entertain his threat.

"Kacchan, it's fine. I just can't believe it's really him," Izuku couldn't help the squeal this time. For a while, he figured all the pro heroes of his world had simply become police officers in this one, but the more he went about his days, the more Izuku realized just how diverse everyone's occupations turned out to be.

"Y'know this guy?" Bakugou raised both his brows. "Thought it might be helpful for you, but he seems tacky and unprofessional. What kind of fucking name is 'Gunhead' anyway?"

"It's clever because of his quirk, Kacchan!"

"The hell is a 'quirk'?" Bakugou asked in disgust.

"N-nevermind," Izuku quickly shook his head and pointed to the bottom of the flyer. "It says here they offer free community courses every other week. We should go!"

"Can't. I have shoots with Jeanist on Tuesdays, remember?" the blonde growled quietly.

"Oh, right," Izuku said with a slight frown.

That was another thing about this world. Katsuki Bakugou was a model. Well, the lower half of him anyway. Bakugou told Izuku he threatened to blow up the cameraman if they ever showed his face on a catalog. And Izuku believed him. Quirk or no quirk, his best friend's favorite pastime was creating explosives in his backyard.

As for how Bakugou got the gig, apparently, the Bakugou's were really good friends with Tsunagu Hakamada since they all worked in the fashion industry together. Mr. Hakamada founded the Best Jeans brand line and also went by Best Jeanist since he was considered the top denim designer in all of Japan, but Izuku could have figured that out just by hearing his name. He really wanted to meet him too, but Bakugou seemed reluctant to let Izuku come along. The greenette figured his friend didn't want anyone knowing about it and he respected that.

Izuku also lived a double life. It wasn't as fashionable as his friend's, but he wouldn't know what to do if the world ever found out about his part-time 'job'.

"Anyway, let's go. We have class in twenty minutes."

Izuku stared at the flyer a little longer and then followed Bakugou to his locker.

—

When Izuku walked into Gunhead's studio the next day, he felt slightly overwhelmed. There were a lot of people standing around. At least the girl at the desk was very friendly and helped him sign in.

The studio itself was very large and smelt vaguely of bamboo and mint. When Izuku breathed it in, he felt refreshed and tried not to think about all the people around him. The floors were also comfortable, alternating between spongy light blue mats and grey ones. Natural lighting pooled into the room from the windows in the back and Izuku found himself drawn to where the sun was shining the most. He would enjoy it before they closed the curtains.

As Izuku took a seat, he noticed a tall blonde boy practicing some kind of martial arts combo on the other side of the room. His occasional shouts and thumps on the floor made Izuku's heart race. Every move he made was precise and it seemed like everybody else was watching too. The teens in the front row even had their phones out and were snapping pictures.

"He's amazing, isn't he?"

Izuku turned to see a girl standing beside him. Her all-pink tracksuit matched her duffel bag and nails, rosy dots etched on her cheeks as if she wore a permanent blush.

"Y-yeah," Izuku blinked, unsure if she was talking to him or somebody else.

"What's his name?"

"Mashirao Ojiro," the girl responded, eventually taking her eyes off of the blonde to give Izuku a smile. "You don't know who he is?"

"Ah, no. Sorry," Izuku felt his face go red. Ojiro seemed pretty important though, and Izuku felt dumb for not knowing, especially when everybody in the room probably already did.

"That's okay. I only know about him 'cuz I come here a lot. He's kind of a big deal in the martial arts community. Is this your first time?" she asked kindly.

"Yep. My friend told me to come. N-not that I don't think self-defense is a beneficial skill to have or anything," he frantically waved his hands in front of his face. "Actually, I think it's really important especially for people who want to go out and walk around at night and stuff—" Izuku stopped when he realized what he had just said and then turned even redder. "Which is something I would never ever do by the way."

The girl giggled and extended her hand. "I see, I see. Well, my name's Ochako Uraraka, what's yours?"

"Izuku Midoriya," he perked up a little bit and shook her hand. "Nice to meet you. Y-you said you've been here before?"

"Yep! I'm planning on applying to UA but the commute is pretty long. I figured I'd brush up on my self-defense skills just in case I ever need to take the train real late."

UA, huh. Izuku thought back to his conversation with Bakugou from the other night. Once he admitted that he in fact did not remember about his apparent dreams to go to said school, Bakugou not only freaked out but launched into a thirty-minute discussion of UA's legacy.

Izuku wasn't even surprised at how similar the schools were. Both institutions were considered the best in Japan, except in this world, UA was something more like an academy. They only accepted the top students who excelled in academics, community service, and extracurriculars. Even international students could get in.

UA valued talent most of all.

Bakugou also told Izuku that UA had a 3% acceptance rate and whoever graduated at the top of their class would get a grant straight out of high school. Most graduates went on to get important jobs and make significant contributions to society. UA was like a stepping stone into the adult world.

"That makes sense," Izuku nodded after Uraraka explained that she lived in the Mie Prefecture, somewhere near Kyoto. Unlike him, it had taken her only thirty minutes to get to Nagoya by train. But it would take her over an hour, maybe two, to get to Musutafu if she got accepted.

"What about you? Interested in going there?" she asked curiously.

"I don't know," Izuku sighed, resting his head against the warm window. "It's like I woke up one day and my whole world turned upside down." This was the first time he had told anyone how he felt about his new life. He tried not to bring it up to Bakugou because he would ask too many questions and demand that Izuku answer them, much less his mother who still seemed on the edge whenever the topic of his 'memory loss' came up.

It felt nice to talk about it out loud, even if he was being vague.

"I'm sorry. That… sounds like a lot," Uraraka sighed.

"It is and I just don't know what to do anymore. Before, I was really into the idea of going to that school but now…"

Will I even have the time? Izuku tucked his knees into his chest and gently chewed on his bottom lip. He was barely passing his classes as is. If it wasn't for Bakugou, he would have failed math because of his vigilante outings. There was no way UA would take in someone like him. Izuku didn't even have a talent.

"Well, you're always allowed to change your mind. Never hurts to try either. I mean, who knows, maybe we'll end up in a class together with Ojiro. I heard he's applying too."

Izuku turned to look at the taller boy at the same time as Uraraka did, and the pair started giggling quietly. But then Ojiro actually waved and gave them a friendly smile.

Uraraka sucked in a breath beside him and fell back on the mat.

"Oh my gosh, did he just say hi to us? I feel like floating away. Pinch me, Midoriya, I must be dreaming!"

"Um, I think I'll pass."

—

By the time Izuku finished at Gunhead's, he felt like he wouldn't even make it to the train. His whole body hurt and Uraraka had to help him onto the platform. She seemed fine however and Izuku wondered how long it would take him to get to her level.

"Alrighty, here's your bag," she said with a smile.

Izuku couldn't even look her in the face. He was so embarrassed. "Gosh, Uraraka. I can't thank you enough. It's been a really rough week and I didn't expect the class to be so… complex."

Uraraka shrugged and gave him a giggle. "Don't worry about it! I help out at my parents' construction site sometimes so I'm a little bit ahead in terms of strength. But I believe in you!"

Oh, Izuku thought when he noticed her well-toned arms, well that makes sense.

"What is it?" Uraraka leaned forward, her big brown eyes sparkling mischievously at him.

"N-nothing," Izuku backed away on wobbly legs until he was sitting on the train. "I just… well you look… ah, never mind." He covered his face with his bag to hide the blush.

Uraraka blinked and then burst out laughing. "Oh my gosh, you are so funny, Midoriya! I can't wait to hang out next time we have class. You got my number, right?"

Izuku looked up at that and nodded quickly. "Yep! Thanks, Uraraka. Seriously, you're a godsend."

"Alrighty then! Have a safe trip!" she waved and then rushed back up the stairs to catch her own train.

"You too!" Izuku waved back and then slumped back in his seat.

God, I'm so awkward, he buried his face into his bag.

Izuku didn't know how long he stayed in that position, but eventually, the train started moving and he drifted off to sleep.

—

The moon was startlingly bright as Aizawa stepped out of his patrol car. Its luminous glow made him squint and he stared back at his reclined seat longingly.

"Alright, alright. Break it up you two," Kayama sighed, rushing over to where the two drunk men were beating each other up on the street. One of them tried to punch her but Kayama simply side-stepped and watched him tumble to the ground. The other one was already half-conscious and fell unprovoked. He didn't get back up.

Aizawa could smell the puke before he heard it.

"Nemuri, they're two drunk idiots, not toys. Could you wrap this up, please?" he asked, pinching the bridge of his nose.

Kayama chuckled and eventually stopped entertaining the guy's desire to fight anything that moved. She had him handcuffed in an instant.

"I like it when they think they have a chance."

Aizawa ignored the seductive purring in her tone and opened the door. He was not looking forward to having his entire car smell like vomit.

"Why did we even go this way?" he asked even though he already knew the answer.

"This area isn't on our patrol route."

Kayama gave him a smirk and Aizawa frowned.

"And don't say it was because of the ghost."

"Okay, but you have to admit, it's pretty useful," Kayama leaned on the car and batted her eyelashes at him. "We totally would've missed these dudes without its help. One of them could've died."

"Well, I'm not a fan of the things I can't see—" Aizawa's eyes widened suddenly when he looked up at her.

"Nemuri, watch out!"

The guy from the floor had stood up and pulled a knife out. He was seconds away from stabbing Kayama in the stomach.

Would Aizawa make it in time?

He reached for his baton but felt it being yanked from his hands by some invisible force that knocked the drunk guy upside the head. The hit itself wasn't strong enough to kill, but the guy didn't get back up after he fell.

Aizawa didn't even realize he was breathing heavily until the world was silent again. He stared at the baton on the floor and then at his hands, trying to come to terms with the sensation he had felt. It hadn't seemed like a possession because he felt in control of every other part of his body, but at that moment it was as if someone had pulled him with an invisible string.

The tug was so specific that if Aizawa followed its trajectory and squinted through the dark then maybe he could see where it had come from.

But did he want to?

"Nemuri, you okay?" he asked, tearing his eyes away from the street.

Kayama gave him a shaky thumbs-up.

"See, Shouta. I told you. Pretty useful ghost."

Aizawa furrowed his brow but didn't say anything more. He worked in silence, quickly handcuffing the guy on the floor and shoving him in the back. But when he finished, Aizawa saw a small figure dash across the street. It disappeared inside what looked like an abandoned building.

Hiroaki Asano's description of the ghost echoed through his head the more he stared:

He's short and was wearing a hoodie. I swear I ain't lying! You've gotta believe me.

"Shouta," Nemuri asked, slowly approaching him, "what's wrong?"

Aizawa frowned.

"Are you okay with staying here alone?"

"Y-yeah, but— hey wait up!" Nemuri called out, but Aizawa had already taken off.

"Just give me ten minutes," he yelled over his shoulder.

"I'll be right back."

Aizawa still didn't feel in control of himself after what happened, but he had to know.

—

"Stop right there!"

Izuku knew he should have stayed home. Not only was he extremely tired from Gunhead's class, but he had missed out on his afternoon nap, too busy studying for an English test. That made him a little more drowsy than usual and slowed his reaction time.

He also knew that he should have gone home after the third criminal encounter, especially since Izuku's quirk was starting to reach its limit.

It was sheer luck that he was able to pull the baton away from Aizawa's hands in time with how exhausted he felt. But now the officer was chasing him while Izuku held back an intense wave of nausea that threatened to make him collapse with every step.

Somehow, Aizawa had seen him through the dark. Somehow, Izuku had slipped up. And in less than sixty seconds, everything had come crashing down.

Is this it? Izuku wondered, swallowing down his mother's dinner.

No, he shook his head. I can't let him catch me. I won't.

Izuku used his own fears as fuel and willed his legs to move faster. He considered blocking Aizawa's path with his quirk but he didn't want to show off how to use it. Izuku also refused to look back. For all he knew, the man was seconds away from tackling him and putting him in handcuffs.

Or did he still think Izuku was a ghost?

"Hey!" Aizawa's voice rang through the building. Izuku didn't even remember when he got inside but he started climbing up the stairs quickly. His legs screamed for a break as he took the steps two-by-two, but eventually, he made it to the top.

Aizawa appeared minutes later and it gave Izuku enough time to catch his breath. He pressed his back against the wall and hid his face within the shadows even if he wore his mask.

Shouta Aizawa wasn't like the others. He had seen Izuku before. Nemuri Kayama had too. At the fire where everything started. Izuku had to be extra careful about what he said and did now. He didn't want to blow his cover.

And yet a part of him was also freaking out for a completely different reason. The same part that activated when he saw The Lurkers at the ramen shop.

Growing up, Izuku had learned a lot about heroes. His favorite used to be All Might because he always saved people with a smile. But then there were the less acknowledged pros who had quirks that didn't seem all that powerful or flashy. Heroes who didn't like to be in the limelight and were hardly ever interviewed at all. Izuku loved finding them on obscure Reddit pages or in the bibliographies of quirk research books, going largely unnoticed by most of the world.

And out of all the underground heroes that Izuku had studied and read about, Eraserhead had always interested him the most.

Why?

Because he reminded Izuku of himself.

Because he gave him an inkling of hope that maybe he could become a hero too.

They might not have looked similar, nor did they share the same core beliefs, but Eraserhead practically fought villains quirkless! Erasure, although strong, wasn't what made him an extraordinary hero. Instead, he could take the bad guys down with his quick-thinking and impressive support gear manipulation that no one could seem to understand.

Izuku remembered spending hours trying to find an explanation for it online, but he never got anywhere with his research. He even told himself that if he ever met Eraserhead in person, which was extremely unlikely given the hero's desire to stay hidden, he would ask him about his scarf first.

But Izuku forgot the most important thing: Aizawa wasn't Eraserhead. In this world, he was the cop trying to catch him.

"Are you really a ghost?" Aizawa asked, catching Izuku completely off guard.

He could have definitely played along. He could have scared Aizawa off and used the opportunity to escape.

But no.

The greenette, too nervous to function because of everything going on, said something stupid instead.

"Are you really a police officer?"

"What?" Aizawa deadpanned.

"S-sorry," Izuku giggled, "I just thought we were asking each other obvious questions."

"So that's a yes?" Aizawa asked, face still emotionless.

"Mhm." Izuku hated how unconvincing he sounded but he couldn't handle the pressure. Even in this quirkless world, Aizawa still had the intimidating presence of Eraserhead.

"I don't believe you." Aizawa took a step towards the staircase.

It just made Izuku freak out even more.

"Th-then why don't you come up here and find out?"

As soon as the words left his lips, Izuku knew he fucked up. He thought he would have more time. He thought he would be able to think of a plan while Aizawa figured out whether to take his challenge or not.

What he didn't expect was for the officer to be as fast as he was.

It took Aizawa less than thirty seconds to make it up the stairs and he didn't even break a sweat, nor did he break eye contact with Izuku either, and continued watching him even when he got to the top. Had he even blinked?

Izuku almost bit his tongue.

"Oh, wow," he laughed quietly, "That was actually kind of impressive."

"Why are you lying to me?" Aizawa asked, narrowing his gaze.

"I–I'm not!" Izuku stammered.

"Do you think I'm an idiot?" Aizawa started approaching him and he let out a tiny shriek.

What do I do? What do I do? What do I do?

Izuku looked around desperately for a way out but there was nothing inside the building he could use. The only thing that stood out to him was the open door behind Aizawa.

"Well if I wasn't a ghost, then h-how else would I be able to do this?"

Aizawa's eyes widened suddenly and he reached up to protect his head, but Izuku didn't strike him with anything. Instead, he focused all of his remaining power on the door at the end of the hallway and slammed it shut. While Aizawa was distracted by the sound, Izuku ran towards the stairs, his heart beating wildly out of his chest. He remembered the side step Officer Kayama had used and tried to mimic it himself.

Almost there, Izuku. Just a little more. You can make it, you can make it. You can—

But then Aizawa grabbed him.

"Not so fast! I don't know how you just did that but you're not going anywhere," the officer hissed, yanking Izuku's hoodie back. When Aizawa's hand made contact with the material, however, Izuku felt his grip loosen.

"I knew it," the officer whispered, staring back at Izuku in shock, "You are real."

Izuku could only shake his head as he felt his mouth go dry.

No, no, no. This wasn't supposed to happen this way. They weren't supposed to find out about him at all. Not yet. Not now when he was finally starting to find a place in this world.

Izuku felt tears in his eyes. He didn't know what to say or do, but he knew he had to get away. And at that moment, the only thing that came to mind was to punch Aizawa in the face.

—

"So, then he fell and blacked out when his head hit the ground," Kayama explained.

Yamada's eyes grew wide.

"No way!" the blonde quickly shook his head, "A kid did that? I've gotta admit that's pretty rockin'."

Aizawa glared at his husband from his place on the couch.

"Um, I mean distressing," Yamada cleared his throat and turned extremely red, "very distressing. You said he was how old again?" he looked over at Kayama who was hiding a smirk.

Aizawa answered for her. He wasn't in the mood to deal with any of them today. Not after everything that happened to him. Not after what he discovered.

"Had to be at least fifteen. Maybe even younger. I'm going based on height since he was really short. But his voice was muffled so I couldn't really hear him."

"Your husband also thinks he's going crazy," Tsukauchi said without looking up from his notebook. He had remained very quiet while Aizawa explained everything after they found him. It reminded him of how Tsukauchi acted during their more intense cases, a drastic change to the detective's usual laid-back personality.

"What?! Why?" Yamada gasped, putting a hand over his heart.

Aizawa let out a frustrated sigh. He hadn't planned on telling his husband that part yet, but he never did warn Tsukauchi about it either so he couldn't be mad.

"It's just that there's no way what I experienced was real," Aizawa said, trying not to lose his train of thought and give into sleep. "That kid… it's like he had superpowers or something."

"Maybe he's working with someone that does special effects? I remember there used to be a group of vigilantes that fought together a couple of years back. They used similar methods to distract police. Can't seem to think of their team name though," Tsukauchi tapped his pencil to his lips but continued staring at a random point on the wall.

Aizawa narrowed his gaze at the table where Yamada's phone sat but didn't answer him.

"Yeah, maybe there was somebody there with him, Shouta," Kayama gave him a small smile. She hadn't sat down since they brought him to the apartment, constantly pacing up and down his floors with her annoying heels. "I hardly doubt they'd let a kid his age go out alone."

If that was true, then they, whoever they were, shouldn't have even let him out in the first place. Aizawa frowned and tried to sit up.

"But a kid that fits the exact description from the other night?" Aizawa shook his head. Either the thieves had lied to them or there were two ghost boys running around that looked the exact same. One of them fake, one of them real. Or both of them fake, both of them real. Aizawa didn't even know anymore.

Tsukauchi shifted a little in his seat. His brows were furrowed as he watched his notebook intently and the pale light from the hallway made him look much older than he was. "I've been wrong before, Shouta," he said quietly. "Nothing new."

Aizawa rubbed at his eyes impatiently and tried to sit up again but failed. "I hate that none of this makes any sense. And that the more I try to think about it, the more my head— agh." A sharp pain racked his brain and Aizawa quickly shut his eyes.

"Hey, hey, hey," Yamada immediately rushed over and took his face into his hands. "Take it easy, honey. You've been working your ass off this entire month. Maybe this is your body's way of telling you that you need a break."

"Yeah. Ever since the ghost stuff started, you've been extremely on edge, Aizawa," Tsukauchi sighed. "You should take a couple of days off and—"

"No!" Aizawa finally managed to sit up but he did it so quickly that the room started to spin. If Yamada wasn't holding him, he'd be on the floor by now. "I'm the Head of the Musutafu Police Department. Without me, everything falls apart."

Kayama stopped pacing and scoffed. "Guess we don't exist now."

Aizawa let out an impatient huff and crossed his arms over his chest. "Nemuri, you know what I mean. I can't just walk away from my job. Not now when the crime rates are so high and the world is falling apart."

Tsukauchi shifted a little in his seat to face him. "When was the last time you went on vacation anyway?"

"I—"

"And community picnic days don't count," the detective gave Aizawa a knowing look.

"Our honeymoon," Yamada said quietly.

Tsukauchi whistled but didn't say anything else.

Kayama, however, wasted no time voicing her frustrations.

"Okay, hell fucking no. There is no way I'm going to let you work yourself into the grave. You're taking the whole weekend off."

Aizawa nearly choked on his spit. He expected her to be surprised, but to order him around? Ridiculous.

"Absolutely not," Aizawa said, looking at his husband and then at Tsukauchi, but the cowards wouldn't meet his gaze. They couldn't possibly be thinking the same thing as Kayama.

"Guys, come on."

Kayama rolled her eyes and put her hands on her hips. "You said it yourself, Shouta. You don't think you're mentally well. And since I'm next in command, it's my duty to oversee the department until you're well enough to come back."

"Well, what do you expect me to do at home all day? Sleep?"

Actually, that does sound tempting, Aizawa chewed on his bottom lip with a frown. But at the same time, how could he even think about resting when that kid was still out there? Aizawa didn't understand anything and it confused the hell out of him, but he knew one thing: the boy was real. And that meant he could get hurt.

His main priority was to get him off the streets and figure out what the hell was going on. Because as of now, nothing about the kid made sense and it frustrated Aizawa almost as much as trying to investigate Izuku Midoriya. Not to mention how annoyed he felt about getting punched by a problem child in the first place. He hadn't been struck by anyone in years. Were his reflexes slowing down? Or did that kid have some kind of special training?

Could Tsukauchi be right? Was he working with other vigilantes? What if he could communicate with ghosts? Or did he actually have magic? Aizawa didn't realize he was crushing Yamada's hand until his husband let out a tiny squeak.

"S-sorry," Aizawa mumbled.

"It's okay," Yamada whispered before gently kissing his forehead.

Aizawa turned away from him, his face growing hot. He couldn't believe he was actually entertaining the thought that this boy could be magical, let alone tied to the supernatural, something Aizawa had never believed in and told himself he never would.

"What do we now then?" he asked after a lingering pause. Everyone seemed to be thinking about the same thing. Or maybe that was his brain's way of rationalizing the oddity of what had just taken place hours ago.

"We don't know yet, Shouta. But we won't get anywhere if you're not back in tip-top shape to help us look for him. So, take it easy, okay? We need you. Ken and I will keep an eye out for anyone that fits the description during our patrol and we'll let the others know too."

Aizawa quickly shook his head.

"No, this stays between us for now."

Kayama glanced over at Tsukauchi and he nodded. Aizawa had a feeling they had talked about this before he woke up the second time. "Alright. As long as you promise to get some rest," she narrowed her gaze at him before walking over to Yamada and squeezing his shoulder.

"Hizashi, can I count on you to watch him for me?"

Yamada's face lit up and he nodded excitedly. "Heck yeah, you can! I've been trying to get him to stay home more often for years. Glad to see it's finally happening."

Aizawa scowled up at the ceiling. "Well don't get used to it. It's only gonna be a week."

"If you behave," Kayama snapped.

Aizawa simply rolled his eyes but didn't say anything else. He felt betrayed, but a part of him knew they were right. He just had no idea how he was going to make it through the weekend.

—

As soon as Izuku got home, he jumped into bed and passed out. He only managed to take off his contacts so they wouldn't bother his eyes, but when he woke up again still wearing his crumpled hoodie, the reality of what he had done made him forget how to breathe.

Oh my gosh, he looked down at his trembling hands, I punched Eraserhead.

Izuku turned over his right fist and noticed his bruised knuckles. He knew the tiny bit of dry blood smeared on his pinky did not belong to him.

I actually punched him in the face.

By now, his entire body was shaking and he couldn't stop it if he wanted to. Izuku didn't know if he should laugh, cry, or do a mixture of both. But nausea from his quirk hit him all at once and he ended up vomiting all over his All Might sheets. He couldn't even see the poor hero's face when he was done.

This is bad. Holy, shit. This is really, really bad.

"Izuku?"

His heart stopped.

"Are you—"

Izuku turned around slowly and met his mother's confused, sleepy gaze. He was still definitely wearing his dirty vigilante sweater.

Oh no.

"Hi, mom," Izuku gave Inko a weak smile before bending over to throw up again.

Well. That just happened. But don't let it distract you from the fact that Katsuki Bakugou is a model for Best Jeanist. Goodbye.