Izuku raised his hand for the fourth time in two minutes, taking a deep breath to steel his nerves. It was futile. The wooden door in front of him seemed like an insurmountable gate. The glass window reflected his largely regrown, but yet shorter than he was comfortable with hair, the muted green dark green color it used to had faded closer to black.

The sign in the front said 'OPEN', and yet he couldn't—

It opened all on its own.

Izuku blinked, his eyes moving up to meet the eyes of the man that had opened the door for him. A mop of black hair sat on a sharp face, with eyes surrounded by thick, circular glasses that looked more like a stylistic choice.

"If you don't come in soon, you'll scare away the other customers."

Izuku looked around. The alley, as lively as it likely was early in the morning during communes and perhaps during the evenings, did not look like it'd really be the best place to make money. It was

"You were thinking something rude, weren't you?" the man asked. Izuku's back straightened, before raising his hands in defense.

"N-no, sir!" Izuku said, perhaps just a bit too fast, as he ended up biting his tongue. Following the man into the café, he found himself looking at everything except the other person. From the beautiful 'Le Blanc II' sign, written in cursive Latin letters, to the polished bright wooden countertop in front of the wall of coffee beans. The entire café smelled distinctly of coffee, as was expected, but with a note of something more. His nose twitched as he recognized the smell. "Curry?"

"The best you'll find in the entire city," the man said in a way that made it hard for Izuku to do anything but take him by his word. He turned around, and without the morning sun glaring down on them, Izuku managed to get a better look at him. Tall, certainly taller than most people, wearing an apron and with a soft smile that Izuku couldn't place. "You're Midoriya, right?"

"Yessir!" Izuku said, straightening again and bowing. "Midoriya Izuku, I'll be in your care."

"None of that 'sir'." The man waved him off. The motion drew attention to the ring on his finger. Married? No, that was the wrong finger. "I'm Amamiya Ren; just call me Ren. I admit, you weren't really what I expected when I was told about you."

Izuku would have liked to say the same. Amamiya Ren, as his new guardian for the next year or so, seemed much less approachable from the description he had received. What stood in front of him wasn't a warden, and using those as measuring stick for adults should be avoided.

"I suppose we'll have to talk about rules for your probation," Ren said, humming. Izuku flinched, unable to meet his eyes at the reminder of his presence here. "But that can wait. Come, I'll show you to your room."

Izuku followed, not one sound escaping his lips. He had to be strong. Stronger than he'd ever been. It was what his mother would have wanted. The room at the top of the stairs that were hidden behind the kitchen led up to a rather spacious room. A desk had been prepared, as well as a bed and a small TV. The walls were barren, however, and though the room was overall very clean, the bright spring sun that forced its way into the room via a window above the bed revealed more than enough dust to take care of before this could really be called a bedroom.

The gray uniform hanging next to the door opened a pit in his stomach.

Izuku dropped his things next to the desk, turning to Ren. The man's fingers were twitching, itching towards the cleaning supplies which lay wayward in the corner of the room. Izuku coughed slightly, resisting the sneeze that was building up in his nose.

"So," Ren said after a moment, watching the dust around Izuku's bag settle down. "Rule number one. I don't think I have to tell you this, but keep your head down, alright?"

Izuku nodded. As it were, that's the first rule he always heard. "Yeah…"

"Rule number two," Ren began, raising two fingers. "Take school seriously. This isn't just well-meant advice. One of the conditions of your probation is exemplary work. You've scored well on the entrance exams, so people will expect you to continue this performance."

"I know," Izuku said, perhaps a bit too fast.

"Rule three," Ren began once more, pulling something out of his pockets. Keys, a notebook, and his phone. Izuku blinked at him, taking the offered keys after a moment of hesitation. The notebook was put on his desk. "You have to keep a report of your daily activities in this. I'll check it once in a while. Just in case you want to go out during the evening, you can lock the doors with this, and I need your phone number for emergencies."

Izuku held back from saying that it sounded more like rule three, four, and five, taking his phone out and exchanging numbers.

If it wasn't for his circumstances, he'd be more happy with the second number in his phone as a sign of progress.

"Alright, that's that." Ren pocketed his phone. "School starts next week, right? We'll have to go there to talk to the principal and your homeroom teacher. I hope I don't have to tell you how to make yourself presentable."

"I'll manage, errr, Ren-san," Izuku said. "I… wanted to ask, on Saturday—"

"You don't need to ask for my permission," Ren said, and Izuku's mouth snapped shut with a click. He put a hand on Izuku's shoulder, and though the boy shrunk into himself, he relaxed quickly when no pain came from the touch. "I'll drive you, even. I have a friend who works there."

Izuku nodded, thankful.

"Anyway, you must be hungry."

Izuku wanted to say he was not. He hadn't had much of an appetite for a while now. But he would be lying if he said that the smell of cooking curry from the kitchen wasn't causing his stomach to make itself known.

"Thank you," Izuku said, tearing up. Accepting kindness was difficult for him. It was not a given. It had not been a given for a long time. While the court dates stretched on, he hadn't been in school since the incident. He hadn't seen anyone who wasn't dismissive of or outright disgusted at his mere presence in a long time. Ren's hand moved up from Izuku's shoulder to his head, exerting gentle pressure.

"Not for that," Ren said, and though Izuku's vision was blurry and his gaze downcast, he could hear the soft smile in the man's voice. "For what it's worth, I don't think you're much of a criminal. I've met some of those, and none of them ever said yes to my curry."

The curry tasted of chocolate flakes and tears. Izuku was lying in his room after finishing the cleanup, Ren helping out in places where he couldn't reach to get the place a bit more livable. The U.A. uniform was mocking him from the wall. A grey jacket over a white shirt, and pants that couldn't decide whether they were dark green or dark blue depending on the light.

It was obvious, in hindsight, that someone who had committed a crime, would not be eligible to become a hero. He could have a quirk that could cure every disease and it would not be enough in the eye of society.

He was, after all, just some delinquent with a record. Or perhaps not just a delinquent.

A lot of people were convinced he was a bonafide criminal. And after being told so for a while, it was difficult to deny the description.

And still.

Still he was going to U.A. as a general education student. Not out of his desire to do so, as he would have picked every other school after the miserable past year he had, but as a court order.

A court order that saw him to probation instead of a year of juvenile detention by recommendation of All Might, who had fought tooth and nail as a character witness, and was still unable to truly save him.

His hand found his face, grasping tightly as he wiped down his face. Though Ren said he'd rather Izuku focus on his studies, the short introduction to the kitchen had made his decision for him. He'd help out in the store, it's the least he could do, after all. Working with his hands would be a welcome distraction.

Izuku wasn't sure what his expectations for his new... handler were. Probation officer seemed too small of a word. Ren was way friendlier than he had expected, but his demeanor spoke of someone who valued diligence. He would go as far as saying that he enjoyed talking to him. It was easy to talk to him. Relaxing.

As he drifted off, Izuku found himself facing the same nightmares.

Over and over again.

Holding his mother's hands as the judge declared him guilty.

How even before that verdict, people had treated him like a criminal.

How his school had expelled him.

How Bakugou—

He drifted off into nothing.

It was Friday. School would start on Monday.

Despite that, he had put his uniform on. It felt like sandpaper on his skin. He clenched his teeth, all the comfort from the earlier hot shower leaving him immediately. It just kept adding up. An unfamiliar ceiling, an unfamiliar bed, an unfamiliar smell in the morning.

Who made curry for breakfast?

He walked down the stairs and found Ren in his usual apron, humming as he finished up the pot of curry. A plate was in front of Izuku before he could say good morning. A cup of coffee followed.

"There's a slight chance of plans," Ren said. Izuku's eyebrows shot up. "I don't have—"

The bell at the café's front door rang, causing them to raise their heads towards the person. A woman walked in, and though he didn't want to, the design of the costume and helmet made Izuku's heart skip a beat.

A biker outfit with a distinct design; spikes on the shoulders and knees, as well as heavy leather boots with visible steel soles wrapped around the bottom. While the outfit itself was simple in a way, the corset-like top and over-the-top long scarf, as well as the knight-looking helmet, made her stand out even among other biker-themed heroes!

It was one of Tokyo's top heroines, after all!

"Yo, Makoto," Ren said. A loud whistling noise made him look back to his can of hot water, which was not on the stove anymore. It took him a moment to realize that the noise came from Izuku's throat. "I think he's a fan."

She took off the helmet, smiling at them, revealing brown hair in a prim and proper bob haircut that was somehow not affected whatsoever by the bulky helmet that now lay in her arms.

"Good morning," she said, nodding at Izuku. "Midoriya-kun, right? I'll get you to U.A. today."

Izuku turned away from the pro hero, facing his guardian with a silent question. Ren nodded.

"As I was saying, slight change of plans. An emergency came up so I asked Makoto here if she could give you a ride."

"I—I couldn't!" he said, waving his hands. "Aren't heroes busy? I wouldn't want to, I'm not—I'm—"

"Deep breaths," Ren ordered, his eye twinkling. Izuku did as ordered, slowly sucking in the curry-filled air around him before fumbling with his bag and taking out a notebook, almost dropping it from his shaky fingers. Fortunately he had not grabbed Ren's notebook for his report.

"C-can I get your autograph!?"

Queen, or Makoto as Ren called her, grew red in the face. It was a stark contrast to her "Justice has been served" kind of persona she put on during interviews after capturing a villain. For a moment, he saw All Might in her. The two sides of a pro hero. Ren laughed, putting another plate of curry next to Izuku's and bustling off to prepare another cup of coffee. Makoto, meanwhile, had only reluctantly taken the notebook and pen before giving her signature.

"It's good to be in good spirits," Makoto said, handing it back to him. "I suppose we haven't been properly introduced yet. I'm Nijima Makoto. You know me as Queen. Ren and I are old friends."

"Midoriya Izuku, I'm a big fan!" Izuku said, just a tad bit too loud for such early morning hours. "It's an honor to meet you, ma'am! N-Nijima-saaaa—"

He trailed off, furrowing his eyebrows. Makoto didn't notice it, though Ren stopped for a moment to address him.

"She's Sae's sister," Ren supplied. Izuku frowned. It wasn't like last names were unique in any way, though genealogy documentaries showed that the Japanese had habits of slowly morphing their names into things that reflected their quirks better. "I hope that's not an issue."

"No," Izuku said, losing his appetite. Regardless, he was too polite to decline the breakfast, as heavy as it was, and sat down to eat. "It's fine."

Makoto took the seat next to him, eating in silence for a few minutes more before finding the words she wanted to say.

"You're angry," Makoto surmised. Izuku's spoon stopped over the plate.

"I'm not," Izuku said. He meant it. He really did. But he could also see why she would think so. "Your sister's not… not the one at fault. It was my fault."

"I disagree," Makoto said, shaking her head. Izuku's spoon dropped out of his hands. "It's one of those things where, even if you've broken the letter of the law, I feel like you shouldn't have ended up in that situation. Didn't All Might himself speak in your favor?"

"Yeah," Izuku said, frowning at his plate. Whether that was out of some misguided attempt after his harsh words had shattered Izuku's dreams, or perhaps a feeling of guilt for dropping the Sludge villain, he couldn't tell. In the end, people would draw their own conclusions. At one point, Izuku could've sworn, the mood in the court room seemed to worsen at All Might's presence. "I'm sorry, Ren-san. I'm not very hungry in the morning."

"That's fine," Ren said, taking the plate without much fuss. Makoto had not finished her plate either. "You'll be early if you go now; the principal might appreciate that."

He looked at the clock hanging off the kitchen wall. 5AM. If the meeting was supposed to be at six; he'd be able to make it even if he took the train.

"I can go by myself if—"

Makoto shut him up with a hand on his shoulder. "Let's go."

Queen was, not unlike her name, a rather regal kind of presence in the pro hero charts. Despite that, her driving style was exactly the same as what her battle style had been described as.

Nerve-wracking and dangerous. The streets were mostly empty this early in the morning, but he had the feeling that even if they weren't, she wouldn't have held back one bit. He wasn't sure if heroes were really exempt from speed limits in their off-hours, but Makoto certainly drove like she was. It took all his energy not to let go of her.

It didn't help that her ride, a part of her quirk if he remembered correctly (and Izuku always remembered people's quirks correctly), caused energy to spark around them as she accelerated.

He only screamed for a solid minute before he ran out of breath.

Hopefully his uniform would be still intact after this.

They arrived at the gates of the school to find another pro hero waiting for them. Had he not been so dazed, Izuku would have been more than inclined to ask Ectoplasm for an autograph. The man stood in a long mantle that hid everything from his collarbone downwards except for the prosthetic stubs that replaced his legs.

The pitch black, yellow striped helmet that revealed nothing but his mutated lipless mouth and empty white eyes, looked intimidating. The row of teeth, bigger than any average person's, looked dangerously close to a smile when the man's head bowed down.

Stumbling behind Makoto and taking off the helmet she had given him, Izuku ended up having to lean onto the woman as she helped him through the gate.

"Good morning," Ectoplasm greeted them. Izuku felt his gaze piercing into him, trying his best to stand up straight. "That the kid?"

"That's him," Makoto confirmed. Touching one of the spikes on her costume was enough to get him out of his daze, straightening his back and bowing to the man.

"G-good morning!" Izuku said. "I'll be in your care."

Ectoplasm's gaze lingered on him for a moment before he turned around, leading them on. Izuku could've sworn he'd heard him mutter a curse about something, but his ears were still ringing slightly. Perhaps it was about him. People cursed a lot when they saw him.

Farther and farther, they were led into the school. The campus began with a simple yard, from which various places could be seen. The tall building that stood in their H-shape, places for students to sit and enjoy the sun, as well a sports grounds for various different sports.

He could see it. All these classrooms that he'd dreamed of for years. The beautiful view from the higher floors down towards the gate as they ended up taking the elevator. The suffocating air in the highest floor of the building. The menacing door of the principal's office, made from hardwood with a golden plate saying exactly what it was.

Ectoplasm opened the door for them, Makoto strode in, her heels clicking confidently on the office's marble floor. In comparison, Izuku's worn red sneakers scuffed hesitantly as he forced himself to follow, heels dragging slightly on every footstep. As he passed the threshold, he felt more than heard Ectoplasm enter, shutting the door behind them all. Izuku knew about Principal Nezu. The… ostensibly mammalian quirk holder who had been principal for longer than most people cared to ask was watching him with a critical eye. They ended up sitting across him, Ectoplasm standing off to the side.

"Hello, Midoriya Izuku," Principal Nezu greeted him. "Would you like a cup of tea?"

"N-no, thank you, sir," Izuku said, bowing his head. "Thank you for giving me this chance."

Another curse from Ectoplasm and a moment of silence later, Nezu pushed forward a few documents.

"We have something of a rule here in U.A.," Nezu began, smiling. His mannerisms were almost childlike, fitting with his appearance but not with the position. "As we wish for people to unleash their full potential and become what they're meant to be, we don't care much about the past. We expect you to behave yourself appropriately, as a student of this premier high school, both inside and outside of the school grounds."

Izuku looked over the documents. The first one was a simple reprint of the school rules that he had seen in the student's handbook, the second was appropriately titled 'probation conditions'. The third form was a guardianship form.

"This one…" Izuku's hand shook as he tapped it. "Is for Ren—err, Amamiya-san?"

"Yes. It's fine for you to bring it with you on Monday, just give it to Ectoplasm. He'll be your homeroom teacher for Class 1-C."

Izuku nodded, signing the other two papers quickly and pushing them towards the principal before putting the last form into his bag.

"One year," Nezu said, stressing the words. "Say, Midoriya-kun, do you want to make a small bet with me?"

"A-a bet, sir?" Izuku asked, coughing. Sucking in air through his nose, he tried to steel himself, but still released the breath with a shudder.

"It's nothing big," Nezu insisted, though Izuku could see Makoto roll her eyes in the corner of his vision. "Just a simple thing, a chance because I want you to understand that I mean it when I say 'U.A. does not care about the past'."

"I-if you'd be so kind as to tell me the conditions, I would be more than happy to think about it," Izuku said, diplomatically. It was something that had been drilled into him by his… roommates back in the facility. Do not promise anything before you know what it is.

"If you keep your head out of trouble for one year, the probation period will be over. I'll have the record removed personally, and it will be as if you had never been charged."

Izuku choked on his own spit, coughing wildly. Makoto slapped his back a few times, perhaps stronger than she should have, but it didn't take too long for him to calm down. Though red-faced now, he still looked up at the principal, whose eyes were twinkling in amusement.

"You… would go that far for me?" Izuku asked. He wouldn't even ask if that were possible. If anyone could do it, it ought to be the principal of the best hero school in the country, right? "Really?"

"It's a bet," Nezu said, clasping his paws together. "It's our duty as adults to make the world a better place for students, and it's our failure when people of your age are treated the same way we treat villains. This is your chance to prove them wrong, isn't it?"

All Might had said something similar, back then. In a way, though the man had spoken words of apology, Izuku had trouble truly accepting them.

"One year," Izuku whispered. One year of not being stupid. One year of not doing something senseless like helping someone in need. He twitched, the pit in his stomach growing and hunching over. "Thank you."

The uniform felt heavier than ever.

Izuku went up to his room when he arrived back home. Makoto had taken over the kitchen as Ren was gone for the day.

He was torn.

One year.

He held his head, falling onto his bed with a soft thud. One day was all it had taken to destroy his dreams, breaking first his heart and then his future. But…

One year of not helping someone in need.

Was it wrong?

Was it really wrong what he did? Would it have been right to just let someone die?

"Obstruction of Heroes is a serious crime, only separated by one degree from 'aiding and abetting Villains'. Do you understand?"

"Yes, Nijima-san," Izuku muttered to himself. How could he have said it in a way that sounded convincing when even she didn't sound convinced by it?

He knew she had just been doing her job. He knew that as a lawyer, she had been trying her best to get something reasonable out of a bad situation. He knew, objectively, that if she'd had a chance to argue for the case to be dropped and leniency to be granted, she would have.

He knew, after all, that All Might had and failed.

"They will make you into an example, and you mustn't let them be right."

Is this really what a hero would do?

What would a hero do?

Apparently let him get arrested for trying to save someone in need. Is this what a hero really is?

His thoughts were interrupted by a loud bang. His body moving faster than his mind, he rushed down the stairs to find Makoto in front of a now mostly empty pot and a wall full of… whatever she had tried to cook.

She had taken her costume off during his time in his room, making her look way more normal and less intimidating. Not that it was possible to look intimidating when splattered with food. Izuku noticed a ring on her index finger, the same as Ren's.

"I turned the heat up too high," she admitted at his confused stare. "I'm… going to clean this up. But I'm afraid I burned through half his ingredients. Could I bother you for a moment?"

"I can clean it!" Izuku said. She shook her head.

"My soup, my mess. I think it'd be better if you bought some stuff. Not just for the shop but for yourself, too. Ren might be able to live on curry alone, but I don't think a growing boy should have to suffer through that."

He didn't have much of a choice when she all but hurled her wallet at him. It would be a good chance to really get used to the neighborhood, he supposed.

"He's got a list somewhere on the fridge—"

Izuku spotted it, taking it off the fridge and pocketing it before walking towards the door. He gave one last glance at Makoto, who was staring at the food plastering the wall with an expression more suited aimed at a villain she'd brought to their knees than a mess to be cleaned up.