By: bunnyscribe (AO3)
On his single day off for recovery, after awakening that very morning to broken bones and blurry vision; Shota finds himself in the teacher's lounge, hunched over the file of one Kageyama Shigeo. The file is almost depressingly thin, mainly comprised of old grade cards dating back to elementary school and information on the single club he had been in his last two years of middle school. There's no disciplinary forms or paperwork for quirk misusage to be found, though Shota had been expecting nothing less. The boy's expressionless face stares up at Shota from the page, as unremarkable as the information typed upon it.
He lets himself feel frustrated, clutching his hair into a bandaged fist with his one good hand. He had seen the damage at USJ, demanded All Might had walked him through it almost immediately after he woke up yesterday. In the blurry spots of his vision, he can still see the cracked up craters and the charred remains of the Conflagration Zone that littered the facility.
Shota knew Kageyama was powerful. He had seen him shoot a ball half a mile away without breaking a sweat. He had watched as he swooped a raging student off of his feet, not just once, but twice, both times requiring little more than a raised finger. But he also knew that his student was well aware of how much responsibility came with that type of power, to the point where he was terrified of his own strength and didn't want to use it at all.
And that's where the issue lies, isn't it? He huffs out a breath, annoyed at his own inability to connect the dots. What makes someone so terrified of their quirk use such an overwhelming amount of strength? Even accounting for a villain attack, the behavior is vastly out of the norm.
"You know, I figured I'd find you here, you workaholic! Shouldn't you be, you know, resting?"
The papers are swiped from him, leaving Shota's bandaged hand clutching at empty air. He slowly picks up his head to find out who had the nerve to do such a thing. He is utterly unsurprised to find Hizashi, standing with one foot on the chair next to Shota, one hand on his hip and the other holding the paper as he squints at it.
"Ahh, so that bothered face is about this one!" Hizashi says after a second, turning to Shota with a grin. He moves his foot off the chair and spins around so he can flop down onto it, then throws his feet onto the desk in one grandiose swoop. "This kid's a tough one, even for me," he tells Shota in a failed attempt at a whisper despite no one else being in the room. "He's real literal about everything, makes it real hard to teach him literature ironically. He describes complex concepts like love and loss like a kid rehashing a five-minute lecture they got on geometry. I mean, seriously, if he showed even a little more emotion he'd remind me of you-"
"He's the one who caused all the damage at USJ," Shota interrupts, knowing that if he doesn't he's susceptible to being subjected to an entire hour of rambling.
Hizashi stares at him, mouth dropping open. "Wait," he says, "Wait, hold up." He lays the papers down on the desk, jabbing his finger at Kageyama's portrait. "You're telling me that whatever nuclear bomb swept through USJ-" Hizashi says, sweeping out an arm in a grand gesture- "is packed into that five foot two frame?"
Shota fixes Hizashi with an irritated look before he sighs and slumps down into his seat. "I can't figure it out," he says.
Hizashi blinks. "What? The kid? Or how in the world he wrecked an entire facility?"
"Both," Shota says.
"Wow," Hizashi says, a grin spreads across his face like oil on water. "Something even the great Shota can't figure out, hun? That feat might be more impressive than what he did at USJ, to be honest."
Shota scoffs, picking back up the papers. "Don't be ridiculous."
Hizashi takes his feet off the desk, leaning forward to rest his head on his hands as he smirks at Shota. The look quickly fades into something more pensive, however, as his gaze moves back to the file. "So what are you going to do about it?"
Shota grips the papers minutely tighter and they crinkle beneath his fingers, distorting Kageyama's face. "I'm going to talk to him tomorrow," he says. "And then we'll go from there."
.-.-.
Izuku sits on the sand, nervously combing it through his fingers. He tosses glances over his shoulder at random intervals, his mouth pulled into a tight frown as he waits.
He fidgets as he pulls out his phone to check his messages again, only to find no reply. He knows Mob's phone is too old to send notifications on whether or not the text messages were read, so Izuku doesn't even have any idea whether he's looked at them or not either.
"hey, can we meet ?" 6:58 PM
"i feel like we need to talk about yesterday" 6:59 PM
"ill be at dagobah beach park" 6:59 PM
He moves to drum his fingers against his knee, full of nervous energy. The one finger he had broken saving Tsuyu, Sero, and himself is completely healed. It had been his only major injury, hadn't even taken Recovery Girl more than a few seconds to put it back in place.
Thinking of it, he brushes a tongue against his chipped tooth. It was something she couldn't fix, she had told him sternly, he would just have to learn to live with it. He thinks she felt bad about it though because she didn't scold him so much about his broken finger after she said had that.
Now, however, Izuku's been waiting for a little over thirty minutes and he decides it feels much worse than a single broken finger. He wishes he had asked for Reigen's number so he could maybe find out where Mob lives. He's not sure what he'd do with that information, but it'd be comforting to be able to find Mob as a last resort.
"I'm here." 7:45 PM
Izuku takes a second to process the notification, opening up the texts and staring at it. There's a shuffling noise behind him gets his attention and he spins around.
Mob is heading towards him, pace sedated and even. Others might have assumed he was unhurried, but Izuku couldn't help but read it as hesitancy, every step looking like he was dragging his feet. His head was still wrapped in gauze. A single bright neon pink bandage sticks over his nose despite the rest of his face being framed by uncovered, yellowing bruises and scabbed over scrapes. His broken arm rests in a sling, Recovery Girl's healing only able to do so much with so many injuries in so little time.
"Hey," Izuku says, barely audible over the waves.
Mob only nods in response, taking a seat down next to him. He doesn't meet Izuku's eyes, instead staring towards the ocean with an entirely unreadable expression that puts Izuku on edge. The only indication anything is worrying Mob at all comes in the form of a tightly clenched fist resting against the ground.
The moment continues on, Mob's aversion to looking at him makes it clear to Izuku that he'll have to start the conversation. He finds himself at a loss of words from the pressure, all planned speeches exiting his head like they're melting out of his ears.
"Do you," he chokes out. Mob finally looks at him. Izuku feels heat rising to his cheeks underneath the intensity of the stare. "Do you want to talk about it?"
"No," Mob says with a sense of finality that Izuku didn't know he possessed.
Izuku nods slowly, turning away from him. "Ok," he says, "Ok." He hesitates, debating his next move. "You know, you still haven't told me about your quirk," he says, with all the eloquence of someone shoving their foot into their mouth.
Mob hums, and for a second Izuku fears that he isn't going to respond beyond that. In his peripherals, he can see Mob turn to look at the ocean with him. The waves move further and further away as they talk, the low tide sweeping in.
"My quirks powered by my emotions," Mob say finally. "My master says the more they build up, the stronger my quirk gets."
Several things start clicking in Izuku's head, the new information causing the gears to turn rapidly. "So that's why your power fluctuates? That makes sense actually, you always seemed stronger in high-stress situations. That's...amazingly suited for hero work! You could really easily subdue villains in dangerous scenarios, because who wouldn't be emotional during them? And we've already seen your quirk in action to stop violent people without escalating things, like your fight against Kacchan. You didn't even leave a scratch on him!"
Izuku turns to Mob excitedly, only to have his mouth snap closed mid-rant. Mob's head is tilted in a way that causes the shadows falling over his face to become more intense, his blank stare ten times more off-putting than it had been before.
Izuku starts sweat, suddenly recalling how terrified Mob had looked as he had stared up at that broken ceiling. "I'm sorry," he says softly. "I didn't mean to talk so much."
"No," Mob says, picking his head back up. "It's fine."
The hum of energy in the air lead Izuku to believe that, no, it is not fine. The silence between them is tense and Mob pointedly turns away from him.
Izuku coughs. "Can I," he starts, "ask what happened with your quirk at USJ?"
Mob gives him a steely look.
"Not about what actually happened!" Izuku clarifies. "Just about what your quirk was doing."
Mob examines him, eyes piercing. "Sometimes it's too much," he finally says.
"Too much?" Izuku asks, bringing up a hand to his mouth to bite his thumb. "You mean like overwhelming? An emotional state that forms into a telekinetic burst of energy focused on one emotion…"
"Yes," Mob says.
Certain things are clicking in Izuku's mind and he can't help but feel slightly relieved that he's figuring out some of the puzzle that is Mob and his quirk. "But wait," Izuku says, realization dawning on him. "What about what happened when you were unconscious?"
Mob hums, pausing, and as much Izuku wants to jump in with guesses and theories and questions, he refrains. He knows Mob well enough to know that interrupting his thought process will just make things harder on him.
"I don't know what happened," Mob says.
"You don't know?"
"It's only happened once before this, and I don't remember what happened then either."
"When was that?" Izuku asks, inquisitive nature getting the better of him. He leans forward to get a better look into Mob's eyes. "Was there anyone else around to see what happened?"
Mob lifts up his hands, tilting his head to look at them like he can find the answers in his palms. "My brother was there. I was eleven," he says quietly.
"Did he tell you what happened?"
Mob's eyes flash up to him before moving back to his hands. He clutches them into fists, so tightly that his nails form little white crescents on his skin. "I don't want to talk about it anymore," he says.
Izuku thinks about the destructive power Mob had in USJ. If he closes his eyes, he can still see the Nomu's torn arm lying on the floor of the plaza, the inner muscle, flesh, and bone showing through. He thinks of broken glass ceilings.
"Midoriya," Mob says, startling him out of his thoughts.
"Y-Yeah?"
"Do you think I should stop trying to become a hero?"
Izuku's heart plummets from his chest and lands six feet under.
Mob is the first friend Izuku's had in a very long time, but they only had gotten as close as they did because their aspirations to be heroes. If Mob left the course, decided that he was too afraid, then there was nothing Izuku could do. Even after the short amount of time they had known each other, Izuku doesn't think he could fully accept Mob giving up.
He doesn't say any of this. "Is that what you want to do?"
"Ritsu thinks I should."
"Do you agree with him?"
Mob hums, "Someone I knew told me that she hoped I found something I wanted," Mob says. "I didn't know what she meant at first, but I think I'm starting to understand."
Izuku blinks, thrown by the sudden shift in topic. "What do you mean?"
"I've done a lot of things because people said I should," Mob says. "I need to do something for myself, but I don't know what yet."
It takes a moment for Izuku to find his voice. "I think…" he says, but then finds he doesn't know what he thinks. Mob waits patiently, looking at him with that same stare as he always does, though it feels heavier this time. "I think you should do what you need to do," he says, "but if you left, I'd-" He stops.
Izuku's not quite sure how to finish that sentence. What would he do if Mob left? Silence ticks on, Mob still waiting for him to finish. The waves lick at the shore.
"I-I don't know," he finally says. "I don't think you should give up yet, but that's not up to me."
The look Mob gives him seems guarded, more of a blank stare than even his usual blank stare. "You wouldn't be upset at me?"
Izuku blinks at Mob in surprise. The question suddenly gives the conversation more weight than it had before and it sits between them. "What? No! I mean, of course, I'd be upset, but not at you. You can't do things just to make other people happy, you have to do what you wanna do. And as your friend, it's really not my place to stop you, if that's your choice."
When he glances back up at Mob, he's found that something has shifted in his eyes, however slight. "Thank you," he says.
Izuku studies Mob, scanning his brain for any reason Mob has to thank him. He can't find anything. As far as Izuku knows, he's only been asking questions Mob doesn't want to answer and saying things that Mob doesn't want to hear. "For what?"
Mob hums. "For the advice, I think," he says. At Izuku's confused look or, perhaps more likely, because he doesn't understand what he's said himself, he adds, "Sorry, I don't know how to put it better."
The honesty startles a laugh out of Izuku. "That's alright," he says, smiling for the first time in a while. His teeth clink together and he can feel the chip in his tooth, but his smile doesn't waver. "Let me know when you figure it out."
After a second, Mob smiles back. "I will."
.-.-.
The introduction of the sports festival goes over well enough. Shota can see the students mirror his own concerns over having the festival so close to a villain attack, but he tries to sweep them aside. It is only logical to continue going on as normal in the face of such adversity in order to demonstrate that U.A.'s crisis protocols are sound. Besides, with quadruple the security and the whole nation watching, only a reckless fool would try something.
"This happens once a year, so you have three chances throughout your school life." He keeps a careful eye on Kageyama as he finishes his explanation. The boy's expression hasn't moved an inch since he started talking, hasn't said a word in response. "This is an invaluable experience to becoming a hero."
Shota lets the students chatter amongst themselves until homeroom ends, stare unwavering as he watches Kageyama chatting politely with an excited Midoriya and Sero. He does not smile, doesn't react at all really.
"Kageyama," Shota calls out and the whole class jolts to attention. "I want to talk to you in the hall."
All eyes move to Kageyama as he hesitantly stands. He follows after Shota to the door, exiting in front of him. Shota moves to close the door and then stops. "The rest of you wait here, quietly. Cementoss will be in momentarily."
He hears the conversation begin anew before he even gets the door all the way shut. "What's going on?" he hears Midoriya's voice asks over all the others.
He doesn't have time to dwell on this, however, as Kageyama turns to face him, face entirely void of emotion. "Aizawa-sensei," he says after a momentary pause. "What is it?"
"Kageyama," Shota says, and then because he's not one to beat around the bush, "Why do you want to become a hero?"
"I don't know."
Shota raises an eyebrow, immediately caught off guard by the answer. "You don't know?" he asks incredulously.
Kageyama shakes his head. "I'm still deciding if I want to become a hero or not," he says, voice matter of fact.
Shota stares at Kageyama for a moment, then says, "Why are you here if you don't know? This isn't the sort of program where you can just take your time with it. You will be pushed to your very limits and if you aren't prepared, it will break you."
Kageyama looks down at his feet, breaking eye contact. "My master said that too," he says. "But I had a friend tell me it was my decision and I've decided I want to take time to make it. I think."
Shota files the master comment away for later, for now focusing entirely on his student. "This isn't something to be taken lightly," he says. "You have shown an extreme aversion to fighting so far, that cannot continue if you want to stay on this path."
"I know," Kageyama says. The words have an edge to them, jagged enough to stick to Shota, but other than that are completely unreadable. He pauses after that and Shota can almost see the gears turning in his brain. "I'm going to try in the sports festival and see if I can do it," is what he finally settles on.
Everything's quiet in the hallway for a moment, the air tense between them. The only sound is the muffled hum of words coming behind the classroom door. Shota sighs. "You've thought about this."
"Yes."
"And this is what you want to do."
"I think so."
"Alright," Shota says with another sigh, bringing up his hand to rub against his eyes. "If this doesn't work though, if you can't do it, I'm going to expel you."
Kageyama's head snaps up and for the first time, Shota can see the obvious surprise written on his face. His hair gently lifts into the air, before quickly settling. He blinks. "Ok," he says.
"Alright," Shota says, taking a deep breath to prepare himself for what comes next. "Now I need you to explain exactly what happened to me at USJ, in full detail."
Shota can see the sheen of sweat forming on Kageyama's forehead. "It won't happen again," he says.
"That's not what I'm asking," Shota says. "I'm asking what happened."
Kageyama looks back down at his feet as though they are extremely interesting. "I passed out," he says after a pause. He doesn't elaborate any more than that.
Shota stays silent, trying to encourage something else out of him, but Mob stays silent. Whether it's out of stubbornness or out of patience, Shota doesn't know. "And you lost control of your quirk," he prompts.
Kageyama nods.
"That's very," Shota stops, trying to find the right wording, "concerning."
"It won't happen again," Kageyama repeats bluntly.
Shota might not be able to read Kageyama very well, but he can tell that pushing this matter right now isn't going to help anything. The air of stress around him is thick enough to cut with a knife. Shota can see Cementoss approaching from down the hall. "Go to class," Shota tells Kageyama, turning away from him. "We'll discuss this later. For now, just focus on preparing for the sports festival."
There's a pause behind him and Shouta can hear Kageyama shuffle his feet. "Yes sir," he eventually says. Then, "Thank you."
The classroom door slides open, and Shota doesn't let himself leave until it shuts again.
.-.-.
It's a stroke of luck, whether it's good or bad, that Toshinori finds himself standing across from Young Kageyama at his local park on his weekend off.
The boy is dressed more casually than Toshinori normally sees him. He's wearing jeans and a tee shirt that has the words "Heroic Consultation Office" branded across it in faded type. However, what's most concerning at the moment is the tiny angry red scratches that litter his arms and face.
"Oh," Kageyama says. "Hello."
Toshinori pushes down his nerves, swallowing down the blood in his throat. "Hello," he says, choking out the reply. He tugs at the neck of his baggy shirt, suddenly feeling too tight despite being about six sizes too big.
Seeing Kageyama is both a blessing and a curse. He has been fretting over the boy since the USJ incident a few days back but hasn't had a moment to speak with him. It's starting to become worrisome, how close he sticks to Young Midoriya's side and keeps his head down. It's nice to see him out and about at least, without the tense air that hung around him like a thick cloud every time he entered U.A., especially with the sports festival now looming over his head.
However, it has been quite a while since they met on the beach with Kageyama in this powered down form. He's privy to information about Kageyama and his quirk that he shouldn't be at this moment and he's got to be careful of how much of his hand that he shows.
Kageyama tilts his head, entirely unaware of Toshinori's dilemma. "Are you feeling any better?" he asks.
"Wh-What?! What do yo-? Oh! Oh yes, I'm feeling much better," Toshinori says, rubbing the back of his neck with an uneasy smile. "All over that cold now."
"That's good," Kageyama says with a nod.
There's a pause as Toshinori tries desperately to figure out what to say next, looking from some way to gracefully exit the conversation. It's ridiculous. For all the ease he has in charming the media in his hero form, it feels like all that confidence is lost the second he powers down.
"Oi, Mob!" A brown haired man suddenly comes tearing out of the bushes, coming between Toshinori and Kageyama. He bears the same kind of tee shirt and scratches that Kageyama has. "Have you seen the cat come by here? I lost it in the…" The man trails off as he turns his attention from the bush onto the two standing there. "Eh?" He points at Toshinori, "Who are you? Do you know him Mob?"
"Yes," Mob says with a nod. "He's the man I told you was training Midoriya. I haven't seen him since we started at U.A. though."
The brown-haired man hums, looking at Toshinori with eyes that seem to see right through him. "What'd you say your name was?"
Toshinori curls into himself, the curve as his spine coming more pronounced as he tries to shield himself with the little bit of a physical form he has left. "I didn't," he says, "but it's Toshinori Yagi."
The man stares at him, scanning him up and down with a thin frown on his face. The look makes Toshinori feel small despite being at least a head taller than him. The man nods his head firmly, then gestures his hand wildly before throwing it out towards Toshinori. "Reigen Arataka, it's nice to meet you."
Toshinori blinks, looking from Reigen's hand to his face. When he realizes what the other man is intending, he takes the half a step forward that it takes to grab his hand, almost covering it with his own. "Likewise," Toshinori says, giving his hand a gentle shake.
Reigen nods, seemingly pleased. He turns back to Kageyama. "Oi, Mob," he grunts. "Go check the trees, I think the cat climbed up one of them."
Kageyama nods after only the slightest pause. "Ok," he says, already moving towards the bushes Reigen exited out of. "I'll be right back Master."
Toshinori doesn't speak again until Mob has disappeared into the brush, eyes tracking after him. "Master?" he asks.
Reigen looks back towards Toshinori, posture loose but eyes perspective. "I'm a hero from Spice City. Mob's a fan and an apprentice, he's helping me with some volunteer work right now."
"A hero, you say?" Toshinori asks, trying to wrack his brain in a search for the Heroic Consultation Office. It's then that he remembers Spice City's lack of funding for such things. He glances back to the bushes where Kageyama disappeared to, nerves suddenly rising even more. "What is your hero name then?" he asks.
"The Illusionist."
"I'm afraid I haven't heard of you," Toshinori says, trying to keep the suspicion from creeping into his tone.
It doesn't work too well if the sharp look Reigen gives him is another to go by. "Most people haven't," he says, turning his head to inspect his nails. "Spice City isn't really on the map, you know? Too poor for that." He breaks out into a stretch. "How did you start training Midoriya?"
Toshinori starts, thrown off by the sudden change in topic. "I'm a-ah-" he sputters, feeling blood dribble down his chin from the sudden stress. He lifts up a hand and wipes it away. "I'm an old boxing coach."
Reigen lifts an eyebrow, looking unimpressed. "A boxing coach?"
"We-Well, yes. After I stopped working underneath All Might, I took up-"
"Wait," Reigen says, cutting him off with a wide gesture. His stares at Toshinori, wide-eyed. "You worked under All Might?" His voice cracks on the last syllable.
Toshinori suddenly recalls the limited edition, All Might collectible cell phone that Kageyama had pulled out that first day on the beach and Midoriya's subsequent reaction to it. He's found another fanboy then. And perhaps another fraudulent hero, if his intuition is anything to go by. He feels a pang of concern for Kageyama, getting tied up with a man like this.
Reigen coughs, visibly composing himself by waving a hand around in front of his face. "Nevermind, we can come back to that," he says. "How long have you been training Midoriya for?"
"About six months before he went into U.A. with Young Kageyama," Toshinori says, unsure of where this line of questioning is going.
Reigen hums. "It sounds like you worked him pretty hard to get in there from what I heard from Mob. They met because a fridge was about to fall on top of him, under your watch, right?"
Toshinori feels a sudden stab of guilt. "I-"
"Master, I caught it."
Kageyama appears from the bushes again. He looks marginally worse than he did before, his face now baring quite a few more gashes. A cat trails in from behind him, floating and enveloped in the same purple haze that Toshinori's now associating Mob with. "It didn't like me touching it," Kageyama says, "so I had to carry it like this."
The cat yowls.
Toshinori can feel the shared surprise between Reigen and himself hovering in the air. Reigen is the first to compose himself, straighten out his back. "Nice job Mob!" he says, a grin spreading across his face. It fades quickly though, as he closer inspects the young boy. He brings a hand up to his chin, looking pensive. "We should get cleaned up though. These cuts could get infected really easily. Wouldn't want you to be out of the game just for some cat scratches."
Mob nods, "Ok, that sounds good."
Reigen turns back to Toshinori, whose eyes are still on the floating cat. He clears his throat and Toshinori turns to him. "We'll talk more soon," he says. It's made to sound like a pleasantry, but Toshinori can hear the unspoken promise.
"I'm sure we will," Toshinori says with a hesitant nod. He turns to Kageyama, forming a small smile on his face. "Have a good rest of your day, Young Kageyama," he says to him.
Kageyama nods. "You too."
And with that Kageyama and Reigen disappear back through the bushes with cat floating behind in tow, leaving Toshinori to ponder over what just happened.
To be continued…
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