A Friend in Need

Summary: Izuku has been friendless for most of his life. He hasn't dared hoping that UA would be any different.

Despite UA's strict no-bullying policy, Izuku is so used to making himself invisible that he fails to befriend a single person in 1-C. By the time he transfers to 1-A, he's just accepted that he'll continue to be on his own for three more miserable years.

His new classmates strongly disagree.

Chapter 2

Kacchan was deathly pale during the ceremony. He accepted his silver medal from All Might stoically without saying a word.

Izuku felt like he was in a trance. The tension felt like it was locked in his body – he didn't know what he expected more: for Kacchan to lunge at him or for somebody to rip the gold medal clean out of his hand, claiming it had all been one big mistake.

All Might's mouth was moving, but Izuku didn't register any of what he was saying. The only words he could hear were those said to him all those months ago. He couldn't be a hero. He couldn't be a hero. He couldn't be a hero.

The weight of the medal around his neck felt surreal. Him, having won the Festival? Quirkless Izuku, having triumphed over several dozen hero kids? It was impossible. It was insane. Any moment now somebody would reveal that this was all a gigantic joke at the gullible, quirkless kid's expense.

Maybe one of Kacchan's explosions had given him a concussion and he was really lying unconscious in the infirmary. It would explain the ringing in his ears, too.

"Do you hear that, kid?"

"Hm?" Izuku blinked, forcing sluggish eyes on Midnight.

All Might had stepped into the background. Izuku carefully kept his eyes averted.

"They're cheering for you," Midnight said gently, her mouth drawing a soft curve.

Izuku tore himself out of his trance and looked around. All across the arena were masses of people, flailing arms, thousands of voices– "Oh," Izuku said softly.

His ears weren't ringing at all. That was the audience. His classmates. Thousands of people, cheering. For him.

"Alright, kid. Let's get you to Recovery Girl."

Izuku followed Midnight as though on autopilot. If this was a dream, he never wanted to wake up.

Izuku kept his head down as he entered class 1-A.

He'd felt out of place in 1-C, but at least he hadn't antagonized any of them on live television. What would the Heroics kids say, having had their victory snatched out from under them? Izuku almost regretted agreeing to the transfer.

Almost. He would be ostracised, no doubt about it, but enduring a class that hated him wasn't anything new. This was the first real shot he had at fulfilling his dream. He'd latch onto it with the desperation of somebody who'd been told he wouldn't amount to anything since he'd been four years old.

"Midoriya!"

Izuku flinched.

"As class representative, I am welcoming you on behalf of your new class," the boy with the engines, Iida, said as he chopped his hand through the air. Izuku tried his best not to shy away from the movement.

"Yeah, man, welcome!" A red-haired boy gave him a wide smile. "You were so cool during the Festival!"

"Those were some amazing moves!"

"I can't believe you shoulder-flipped Bakugou."

"Where'd you learn to fight?"

"Sit down," grumbled their teacher from the front of the classroom, making the 1-A students scatter.

Izuku stood frozen in place. His jaw was clenched tightly, his legs locked to stop himself from bolting straight out of the classroom.

He somehow made his way to his seat, but he couldn't focus for the rest of the lesson. None of his new classmates tried to talk to him – Aizawa didn't seem the type of teacher to tolerate chatting during class – but Izuku's heart wouldn't stop pounding. There was still the shrill ringing, like the crowd had never stopped cheering.

"Midoriya."

His world snapped back into focus. Somehow, class was already over.

"Stay behind," Aizawa said without looking up. "We need to go over some organizational matters."

Several classmates stopped at his desk to tell him goodbye. Izuku hunched his shoulders and said nothing, waiting for them all to leave.

(Kacchan stormed through the door without a glance back. He hadn't looked at Izuku once since the Festival.)

Izuku let out a shaky breath as soon as his classmates' suffocating presence was gone, feeling like he could breathe for the first time in hours.

"You seemed distracted," Aizawa said.

Izuku instantly tensed back up. His eyes dropped to the desk. "I'm sorry."

"Just an observation." Aizawa didn't sound angry, but that didn't mean anything. He was impossible to read. "What's your first impression of the class?"

Izuku hesitated. "They're..." Loud. Overwhelming. Too good for him. "They seem nice."

"They're a lot," Aizawa said flatly. Izuku's eyes flickered upwards. Aizawa wasn't looking straight at him, which made it easier. "But they're good kids."

"Y-Yes, sir," Izuku stuttered.

Aizawa gave him a long, searching gaze. Izuku felt like all of his secrets were laid bare. "Try to give them a chance."

Izuku's mouth was dry. He tried answering, but no sounds made it out of his throat.

He was just wondering how much time needed to pass in awkward silence until it would be polite to leave when Aizawa added, "You're going to meet me thrice a week after class."

"Wh-What? Why?"

"You're lagging behind your classmates," Aizawa said. "You need to catch up if you want to make it through Heroics."

Dismay jolted through his chest. He'd been doing his best. Of course his best wasn't enough for a notoriously strict teacher like Aizawa. "Y-Yes, sir."

Aizawa paused. "You've done well on your own," he said, his expression unreadable. "You've shown that during the Sports Festival."

That… had almost sounded like a compliment. "Th-Thank you, sir!"

Aizawa nodded. "It would be highly illogical to expect you to be caught up with material not covered in General Education. I will help you even the playing field, that's all."

Izuku felt a lot better when he said, "Yes, sir. Thank you for your time!"

His new class was the polar opposite of his old one. In 1-C, Izuku had tried to be seen and failed miserably. In 1-A, he tried to keep his head down and make his classmates forget he existed. Instead, there seemed to be somebody else clamoring for his attention at any point of the day.

He was swept along after class the next day and realized too late where his classmates were headed. He froze at the sight of the looming cafeteria doors.

"You coming?" the red-head – Kirishima – asked, giving him a wide smile.

Izuku trailed after them reluctantly, not seeing a polite way of declining. He tried not to look, but his eyes were inevitably drawn to the small, empty table crammed in the corner, the very same where he'd spent dozens of lonely lunches before he'd stopped coming altogether.

He hovered awkwardly next to the table his classmates picked, only sitting down when somebody told him to.

"You're so quiet, Midoriya!" one of the girls – pink skin and hair, acid quirk, charged ahead during spars without thinking her strategy through – said, nudging his arm.

Izuku drew up his shoulders and muttered, "Sorry."

"I didn't mean it like that," the girl laughed.

Izuku flinched. It wasn't a malicious sound. She wasn't making fun of him. She wasn't being cruel. She wasn't.

"Tell us something about yourself," another girl added after an odd sort of pause.

"Yeah." Kirishima clenched his fist, grinning. "How'd you get to be so badass?"

The sound of firecrackers shattered the pleasant atmosphere. Izuku startled violently, dropping the lunchbox he hadn't finished unpacking.

At the other end of the table, Kacchan gritted his teeth and glared into nothing. He looked seconds away from exploding the table.

Izuku stuttered out a hurried, "Forgot something in class," and fled.

Izuku started avoiding his class. He was the first out of the door when the bell for lunch break rang, and nowhere to be seen by the time his classmates realized he hadn't gone ahead to the cafeteria.

On days when he wasn't fast enough, he made sure to sit as far away from Kacchan as possible. The tension between them must have been obvious, but so far nobody had mentioned it.

Kacchan hadn't tried anything so far, but Izuku didn't want to guess how long his patience would hold.

"You've got a decent baseline," Aizawa told him casually during their first lesson, like Izuku wasn't gasping for air on the verge of forcefully expelling his lungs from his body. If this was how he trained class 1-A all the time, it was a wonder none of them had quit so far. "Your practical skills are impressive for somebody without any professional training."

Izuku waited until he felt like he could speak somewhat coherently. "I've had some professional training," he protested, thinking of his years-long membership in his dojo.

Aizawa didn't look impressed. "I'm talking Pro Heroes, kid. Judo classes don't count."

Izuku didn't really agree, but he kept his mouth shut and worked on getting his breathing under control. Teachers had never really cared about what he had to say, and while Aizawa was very different from the rest, that didn't mean Izuku wasn't going to get in the habit of talking back.

Aizawa had them pair up for a written assignment. Izuku stared at his desk as mayhem broke out around him, not even trying to secure himself a partner as people around him frantically tried snatching up their friends.

He only peered around once the shouts started tapering off, most of the class having finished splitting off into pairs. A kind looking, brown-haired girl caught his gaze. She looked conflicted, looking between him and the green-haired girl she'd partnered up with.

The only one still sitting completely alone was...

Izuku swallowed, grabbed his notepad, and headed over to the only other boy in class who hadn't seemed to try at all to find himself a partner.

"U-Um. I'm s-sorry."

The white-and-red-haired boy – Endeavor's son – looked up.

Izuku couldn't read anything out of his expression, but he powered on. "E-Everybody else seems to have found groups," Izuku muttered. "Do you, uh. D-Do you want to work together?"

His heart hammered in his chest. The silence was deafening.

"Okay," the other boy said simply.

Izuku deflated in relief and dropped his things on the neighboring table. His hands were slick with sweat. "U-Uh. My name's Midoriya. I-Izuku."

A beat passed.

"Todoroki Shouto," the boy said, turning back to his own notes.

Working with Todoroki was... It was good. Easy. Todoroki was almost as quiet as Izuku, but that just meant that they got their work done quickly and spent the rest of class sitting next to each other in pleasant silence.

Todoroki never tried to strike up a conversation, nor did he start sending him dirty looks to signal he ought to go back to his own desk now that their task was done. Izuku didn't know if he wanted to be friends exactly, but at the very least Todoroki seemed to tolerate him.

He tried not to feel pathetic about the rush of warmth the thought sent through his chest.

"D-Do you want to sit together at lunch?" Izuku wrung the hem of his shirt.

Todoroki looked at him unblinkingly. Izuku was starting to anticipate the pause before Todoroki's reply. "Okay."

They hardly talked. Izuku didn't have many things to say, and neither did Todoroki. It was fine though. Even as much as sitting together to eat their meals in silence had Izuku ache for something he hadn't known in years. If ever.

Being a student at UA was an odd feeling. He could walk to his locker and to the train station without fear of being cornered. He didn't have to hesitate speaking up in class for fear of Kacchan's friends making fun of him for his stutter.

People didn't act in a way that made him feel like less than dirt after every interaction, too lowly to even be considered a stepping stone.

But while Kacchan hadn't paid attention to him at all while he'd been in General Education, Izuku having won the Sports Festival had completely ruined that tranquility.

Now, he felt Kacchan's eyes drilling into him at all times during class.

Now, he felt the weight of all the unspoken things Kacchan clearly wanted to say to him, but wouldn't for some reason.

Now, he was back to tensing up and looking over his shoulder, fearing for some kind of retaliation.

"How would you feel about a sparring partner?"

Izuku paused, his water bottle halfway to his mouth. They'd been having training sessions for a couple weeks now. Was Aizawa already planning on pulling in some of his classmates?

Izuku didn't think he was ready for that. He might have won the Sports Festival, but only because the rules had been in his favor. Without the out-of-bounds rule tilting the chances his way, he was under no illusion that he'd stand a chance in a proper spar.

"Your former classmate, Shinsou," Aizawa continued before his thoughts could carry him further. "He might not have won the Festival like you did, but he still made his way to the one-on-ones. He deserves a chance for a transfer as well."

Other than their brief interaction during the Festival, Izuku had only vague memories of the other boy. He agreed, though. If he thought about it, he'd kind of taken the spot that might have been (should have been) Shinsou's.

"Are you going to help him catch up, too?"

"That's the plan," Aizawa said. He paused. "Unless you have concerns?"

He did have concerns, but selfish ones. He couldn't help but to think that if Shinsou proved to have more potential than he did, Izuku would find himself right back in class 1-C. His quirk alone made him perfectly suited to become a hero. Izuku couldn't back that up with natural strength and brains alone.

But that was selfish. Shinsou deserved the chance to be a hero just as much as – probably more than – he did. Izuku couldn't bear the thought of being another obstacle in his way.

Besides, it wasn't like Aizawa was asking out of anything other than courtesy, anyway.

"Not at all!" Izuku smiled brightly. "Is he gonna join us for the next lesson?"

Aizawa nodded, and Izuku did his best to ignore his growing unease.

That week, Izuku ran into a stray cat on his way home from school. He smiled, watching it stretch out in a patch of grass as it ignored the odd person walking by. It had a spot of darker fur over its eye that reminded him of Todoroki. He bet the other boy would like it. He seemed like a cat person.

Izuku paused. Slowly, like in a trance, he pulled out his phone, snapped a picture and pulled up his text history with Todoroki. They'd exchanged numbers for a class project, but they'd never used it for anything other than school.

Other than Todoroki, the only person he'd texted in the last few weeks was his mother.

Izuku sent the picture. He kept anxiously checking his messages and debated deleting it the entire half hour it took Todoroki to answer.

Todoroki: That's a cat.

Me: Yes!

Todoroki: Why did you send me this?

Me: I thought you'd like it!

Todoroki: It's cute.

Me: :D

Todoroki: What is that?

Me: What is what?

Todoroki: Your last message.

Me: Uh

Me: It's a smiley?

Todoroki: :D

Todoroki: Like that?

Me: Yes! :D

Todoroki: :D

Me: :DDDDD

Todoroki: I am confused.

Me: Sorry! D:

"My m-mom wants to make katsudon today," Izuku stammered. "I was j-just– Just wondering if you wanted to... to come over. Maybe. I-If you wanted to."

Todoroki said nothing. Izuku's anxiety swelled.

"We c-could hang out afterwards, maybe. Or work on our homework together. O-Or," Izuku deflated, "Or not. Sorry. I didn't mean to a-assume. Sorry."

"Oh." Todoroki blinked. "So you changed your mind?"

"W-What?"

Todoroki looked away. "It's okay. I don't think I'd be much fun to hang out with." He said 'hang out' carefully, like the words didn't come naturally to him.

Izuku's mouth fell open. "What are you s-saying? I love spending time with you!" He flushed. That had come out way too strongly. Oh god. He was being weird again.

Todoroki looked at him without blinking. "You do?"

Well. It was too late to turn back now. "Of course I do! You're plenty fun to be around."

"Oh." Todoroki looked down, thoughtfully. "You can call me Shouto if you want to," he said, like he wasn't offering Izuku the world.

"You can c-call me Izuku," he choked out, already tearing up.

Todoroki– Shouto must have been used to it by now, because he didn't bat an eyelash. "Okay, Izuku." He paused. "So when should I come over?"

Izuku wiped at his face, beaming.

Izuku and Shinsou were at the gym before Aizawa got there.

Seconds ticked by in awkward silence as neither of them tried striking up a conversation. They'd been classmates for several weeks, but it wasn't like Izuku had been talking to anybody then. Nor anybody to him. As for Shinsou… As far as Izuku remembered, he hadn't really interacted with anybody, either.

"So, hero," Shinsou finally drawled. "What's it like being on the other side?"

Bitterness underlined his words. He supposed that cleared up any doubts Izuku may have had about whether Shinsou was upset with him.

"U-Um... I-It's... I-I mean I g-guess–"

Shinsou made a clicking sound with his tongue. "Chill. I'm not angry."

Izuku's expression must have given away his disbelief.

Shinsou rolled his eyes. "Okay, maybe I'm a little angry. But not at you." He leaned back on his bench in a lazy sprawl, resting his head on the gym wall. "If anything I should thank you for showing those hero kids that they're not untouchable. Since it couldn't be me."

Alongside the bitterness, there was also unmistakable self-deprecation. Izuku's defensiveness instantly switched targets.

"It's not your fault Gen Ed doesn't offer defense classes," he protested. "It's amazing that you made it this far without any training!"

"You made it without training just fine."

"But I had training! I just–"

"See? That's the difference between us. You were smarter and planned ahead."

Izuku geared up for more protest, but Shinsou cut him off with a humorless laugh.

"I guess in a way I wasn't any different from them after all. They rely on their quirks way too much. Guess I did, too. You saw that you needed other weapons in your arsenal, so you took care of that right away."

Izuku hesitated. "I d-don't have a quirk to fall back on at all, so... I kind of didn't have a choice..."

"Doesn't really make a difference, does it?" Shinsou shrugged. "Look, I'm not trying to start anything. I made a mistake. I was being careless, and bitter. I paid for it. This is as much a chance for me as it is for you, and I mean, it's way more than anybody else has ever been willing to give me, so."

"Did Aizawa tell you when you might transfer?"

Shinsou looked straight ahead at the other gym wall. "As far as I know the school isn't planning a transfer at all."

"What? B-But Aizawa said–"

"Yeah, well. What he wants and what the school wants doesn't exactly line up." Shinsou sighed. "Look, I think Aizawa wants to give me the best chance he can. I'm grateful for that. But the fact remains, there was an open spot in 1-A, and you took it." His lips curled. "Rightfully so."

Izuku stared down into his lap, not knowing what to say.

"Either there's gonna be another spot or not. Either way, this time I'm going to give it everything I have." Shinsou shrugged. "People kept telling me that my quirk wouldn't get me into Heroics. I guess I was so hung up about proving them wrong, I never really considered relying on anything but my quirk."

"You're only just starting," Izuku tried. "You've got time."

"I guess." Shinsou paused. "This is my chance to make a difference for myself. And like, if you're helping me get there, well... cool."

All animosity had left his tone, so Izuku tentatively relaxed.

"Let's both try our best!"

Shinsou scoffed, though it seemed out of reflex more than anything. "Yeah, sure. Whatever."

Shinsou was a fast learner. Similarly, Izuku improved quicker than ever. Aizawa appeared visibly pleased with them both.

Though Izuku's anxiety over being kicked out of 1-A for Shinsou never really left, he started to look forward to their spars.

Izuku learned more about quirks than ever, now that he was up close instead of watching from afar. He tried his best not to be weird, but the first time he forgot himself and started muttering about her quirk in the middle of a sparring match with Ashido, he earned good-natured bantering instead of scorn.

Maybe this was just another thing class 1-A thought differently about.

(He was just glad Kacchan hadn't been watching. 1-A might have been different from all other classes he'd been to, but he doubted the few months of peace in 1-C had made Kacchan forget how much he hated Izuku's mumbling.)

At this point Izuku was convinced he'd landed in the weirdest class in all of UA. Maybe he didn't stick out as badly as he'd done in all the other classes he'd been to thus far because his classmates simply had no reference for what normal people should be like.

"You just heated that, didn't you?"

Todoro– Shouto. He still wasn't used to being on first-name basis – Shouto looked up from his now-steaming cup of tea.

"I know your power is Half-Cold Half-Hot," Izuku went on, "but you hardly ever use the second half."

He'd only ever seen him produce ice, even during the Sports Festival. He wondered whether the 'Half-Cold' part of his quirk was simply stronger. Maybe the half of his quirk producing heat was too weak to be of use?

"Can you produce flames, too?" Maybe it was just a lot more difficult to use than his ice. Izuku wondered if Shouto had ever tried to develop his heat powers further. If he could produce fire alongside ice, his powers would have almost limitless applications!

Shouto looked away, his lips pinched.

Izuku realized that he hadn't said a word so far. "O-Or not," he instantly backpedaled. "It's okay if you can't. Don't worry about it!"

Shouto hesitated. He raised one hand and conjured one tiny, barely there flame. It flickered and twitched with every breath of air.

Izuku beamed. "Your quirk is so cool, Shouto!"

The flame faltered. "What?"

"Your power. It's so cool!"

"Yes– But–"

"How long can you keep your fire going? What does it use as fuel? Does your temperature regulate itself, or do you have to consciously adjust it? Have you tried using larger flames, too?"

Shouto stared at Izuku, then down at his fire. He let the flame climb a little higher.

Izuku was positively vibrating. "Can you show me more?"

Something gave way in Shouto's expression, making it look softer than Izuku had ever seen it.

"You want to do what?" Izuku stared at his childhood friend, his hands fidgeting at his sides.

Kacchan had cornered him despite his best efforts, but at least he hadn't managed to get to him alone. Izuku felt a little ashamed at how glad he was to have Shouto next to him.

"You fucking deaf?" Kacchan snapped. "Fight me! A real one, none of that bitch-ass out of bounds shit. We're gonna fight until one of us can't get up anymore!"

Izuku couldn't believe what he was hearing.

Well, that wasn't quite right. He could believe that Kacchan wanted his revenge. He just didn't understand why he was being challenged instead of outright attacked.

"I don't want to fight you," he protested, shying away from Kacchan's furious gaze. "That won't– That's not how it works! I won the Festival, Kacchan. I didn't take the medal from you. I–"

"I don't care about some fucking medal!" Kacchan snarled. "This isn't about some dumbass sports fest!"

Izuku drew up his shoulders. At his side, Shouto tensed. Had he been on his own, he probably wouldn't have found the courage. But since Shouto was here...

"I'm not going to fight you," Izuku said, his voice only shaking mildly. "Not outside of class."

Kacchan inflated with rage. "What do you mean you won't fight me–"

"You can fight me if you want." Shouto took the barest step forward. His expression didn't change, but Izuku could have sworn he saw a muscle in his neck twitch.

"Why would I want to fight somebody I've already wiped the floor with." Kacchan wouldn't even look at Shouto.

Shouto drew himself up to argue, but Izuku held him back with one hand to his chest. His friend didn't care about a rematch. He hadn't particularly cared about his loss during the Sports Festival, period. Shouto was only challenging Kacchan for Izuku.

Shouto fell back easily, caving in to his touch.

"I'm not fighting you," Izuku said, trying to make his voice sound firm even through its trembling. "I've just made it into Heroics. I'm not going to risk being expelled."

"You wanna be a hero?" Kacchan yelled, hands clenching around barely suppressed explosions. "You ain't gonna be one if you're too much of a nerd-ass bitch to fight me!"

Izuku was already walking away. He flinched at the sound of agitated screaming behind him, but refused to stop. Turning his back towards Kacchan went against all of his instincts.

But he wasn't on his own. Shouto would defend him. If they told him, maybe Aizawa would even care enough to reprimand Kacchan. No teacher had ever moved a finger to help him, but everything else in UA was different. Maybe the teachers were too.

Kacchan refused to give up.

He issued out challenges between classes. He threw him aggressive glances during their lessons.

He wasn't hurting or even threatening him. It was nothing like the bullying from middle school. But his tenacity soon chafed away at Izuku, every day bringing him closer to cracking.

Izuku had always admired Kacchan for his determination. Now he wished the other boy would give up for once in his life.

He wouldn't. Kacchan didn't know how to give up. He'd keep pressing and challenging Izuku until he caved under the pressure. If Izuku didn't do this, he'd just keep on going.

It occurred to Izuku that while Kacchan had grown stronger since middle school, Izuku had changed as well. He had friends now – at least one (Maybe two? Would Shinsou consider them friends?) – and he was training to become a hero, just like Kacchan. He'd made it into the same class and fought him during the Sports Festival.

And he'd won. Using only his own strength and his skills in observation, Izuku had beaten Kacchan in the final match of the Festival.

He wouldn't stand a chance in an all-out brawl, but he was no longer the scared, helpless kid who cried every time he mustered up the courage to stand up to his childhood bully.

"Okay."

If Kacchan was taken aback by his one-eighty, he didn't show it.

Shouto had insisted on trailing along, staring at Kacchan with an unreadable gaze.

"No shit?" There wasn't any satisfaction in Kacchan's eyes. "You're not backing out?"

Izuku set his shoulders. Not like it would matter if he did.

A grin stretched out on Kacchan's face, an odd mix of viciousness and thrill Izuku had never actually been confronted with.

For the first time in years, Izuku didn't feel cowed.

Kacchan won, but his victory wasn't instant.

He had his quirk and he'd been training for much longer, but Izuku hadn't been idle since joining class 1-A. His lessons with Aizawa paid off. He got in some decent hits.

He'd been improving in leaps and bounds, and Kacchan felt every hour that Izuku had poured into his training in the form of scraps and bruises.

By the time they both laid panting on the gym floor, something between them felt like it had shifted.

"You better put up more of a fight next time," Kacchan grumbled once his breathing had slowed to an almost normal level.

Izuku blinked up at the ceiling. "Next time?" But the thought didn't fill him with dread like it might have before.

Some part of him whispered that this changed nothing about the years he'd spent tormented and alone. Another part tugged at his lips in a barely-there smile.

For the first time in his life, Kacchan had acknowledged him as something of an equal.

A/N: Beta'd by the lovely Igornerd, To Mockingbird, fishebake and lilahri!

Let me know what you thought! :)

~Gwen