'Nother day, 'nother chapter.

So, reading the reviews have been rather entertaining. Now, now, people, I know I can be unusually cruel to my protagonists, but come on... if there's anything I am, it's that I'm not predictable. Do you really believe I'd make things progress in such a cliched direction like many of you are anticipating? For shame. For shame.

Also, interestingly, no one noticed Matsuda's last name the previous chapter. Or perhaps, no one paid attention to it? Ah well.

Enjoy ~


A Precise Note


The living room was spotless. The remote was directly beneath the T.V. and the boxes for the game consoles were arranged top to bottom, color-coded from red to green to blue, and then sorted in alphabetical order.

"Izuku-kun… are… are you alright?"

Her son's nose was buried in a book. Advanced Anatomy. Beside him were numerous others, stacked, arranged and neat: Acupuncture for Acute Pains. Memory Palaces for the Mental Masters. Biological Diversities of a Superhuman Society. A Discourse on the Physiological Adaptations of Quirks and it's Ramifications on Human Civilization. An Essay of Quirk-Related Psychological Phenomena and the Argument of Determinism. The Quirk Genome and the Question of the Penultimate Stage of Human Evolution. Thick books. Heavy, dictionary-weight books. "Is something wrong ka-san?"

"No, nothing – just –" You're making me worried. "H-how are things going with your Quirk?"

"Great."

"Has – has there been… anything odd? Or… do you feel… different?"

"No. Why?"

She swallowed the uneasy lump in her chest. "You… cleaned the house."

He nodded, never lifting his nose form the book.

"You did the laundry. Vacuumed the rug. Ironed the bedsheets. Mowed the lawn. Painted the fence."

Another nod came, his fingers idly turning the page.

"You also rearranged the living room," she said, her voice slowly increasing. "And the dining. And the bedrooms. I found a bag of our plates and silverware in the trash. Along with our old pillows. And old clothes. And – and – your things."

"They were wrong."

Midoriya Inko's heart started throbbing faster. "Wrong?"

The book her son was reading closed with a snap. She was reminded, slowly, upon seeing his face, just how much had changed in the past three months. She would never have called her son unattractive by any means, quite the contrary. Izuku had always been her bundle of joy, and as his mother, her son was always the most beautiful boy in the world. But she was bound to say that because she was his mother, and many would deny it being an objective statement.

Except, now, it wasn't merely motherly tendencies speaking. Her son was growing, and each day he appeared more handsome than the day that came before. The freckles he possessed seemed to have found a perfect way to appear on his face that did more to enhance his appearance than diminish it. The layer of baby-fat she'd loved so much to see had somehow vanished and flattened out, giving her son a more eloquent, angular look. His hair, which he'd kept a spiky mess for so long, somehow managed to smoothen on its own, and she knew, from washing it and putting it into the ponytail the boy now wore, just how unbelievably silky it was.

If Izuku woke up one morning and told her that he was going to become a male model, she wouldn't have any doubts as to whether or not he would succeed.

"Ka-san, we were wasting a lot of space with the rooms. Things weren't positioned in a way that made full use of the room while highlighting its aesthetics. I just put things in the proper order to make it look nicer and be more… precise."

"And the plates? And silverware?"

He grimaced. "I… I couldn't stand looking at them. They weren't… the method they were created with… it was… it's like…" Izuku stumbled over his words. "Like looking at something that doesn't… click. Bad designs? A square peg in a round hole or – or a chessboard with more white squares than black."

"They looked perfectly fine to me."

"One of the forks had a prong that was four centimeters shorter than the rest. And – and one of the butter knives was made with the edges facing the wrong side –"

"And your… clothes?"

"They're no longer my size ka-san."

Midoriya Inko's heart was beating fast. "Even… even your All Might pajamas…?"

"You know I stopped sleeping with anything on after I got my quirk."

After he got his quirk. That was it. That was when everything started. The moment in which things had changed completely. She never brought up the event. She tried her best to not think about the event. About how her son's quirk hadn't just manifested while he slept. He hadn't just woken up one morning and realized that his ability allowed him to be impossibly precise in anything he did. He never told her, the full story, of why she'd caught him, doing what he did, when he realized he possessed an ability. She never brought it up. Sometimes, she wished it was something that was a figment of her imagination.

She'd felt, things would be different, after he got his quirk. She was right. She just had the wrong idea about what type of difference it was. She'd assumed, life would advance smoothly. Her son would go on to accomplish his dream of becoming a hero. To become an excellent hero. That they would grow closer, together. That the awkward air and long silent dinners would end. That he would talk to her more, laugh more, be open, more. That for once, they could be happy, together.

And for a short while, they were. He told her, everything. He talked more, was passionate, more. He mentioned how his days went, and how his classes went, and what he did in school. They were growing closer, getting closer.

Then, one day, he'd confessed to her something he did. Something he did, and was proud of. And she'd been appalled. Incensed. She remembered the argument, remembered telling him, sternly, that he was wrong. That he should never do such a thing again.

She called the parents of the boy who'd made the repulsive request. The item in question was found, and destroyed. The boy in question was punished, harshly. She did it, because she knew that the boy was taking advantage of her son's kindness. Making her son do the wrong things for the wrong reasons.

Izuku hadn't seen it that way. He'd been angry. Angrier than she'd ever seen him. He believed, with all his heart, that he was helping the boy. Trying his best to assist the boy. In the heat of the argument, some words had been spoken that could never be taken back. She remembered them, bitterly.

"He wouldn't have shown anyone! He had the portrait for weeks and never showed anyone! He was my friend! I believed in him! I believed in him like you could never believe in me!"

The words had stung. She'd cried herself, quietly to sleep. It stung worse because it was true. Because once she'd been told that her son was quirkless, she'd lost hope. She didn't believe. She'd broken down, knowing that her son was forever deprived from his dream. Even when he tried his hardest to aspire to be a hero in spite of his quirk, she'd looked on with hollow smiles and empty words of encouragement.

She never believed he'd be able to be a hero.

And it hurt her, it hurt, more than anything, the realization that she had never believed in her own son's dream.

Things hadn't been the same after the incident. Neither she nor Izuku had apologized. She, because she knew that no matter the motives, what Izuku did was wrong, and Izuku, firm on his belief that he did the right thing, and angry that she'd cost him his friendship.

For the most part, they both went forward, putting the entire incident behind them. But Izuku wasn't as close to her as before. He didn't tell her his thoughts anymore. He didn't talk about his day anymore. It was as if she was living with a stranger or guest than living with her own son.

Most of the time, he was either at the Katsuki Residence, or the local library. He only ever came home to cook, eat, sleep, and get a change of clothes. Midoriya Inko didn't know how she would be able to make her son get close to her again. How she would make her own son trust her again.

"I'm heading to Kacchan's place."

The boy bundled his books together into his bag and swung it over his shoulder. Inko bit down on her lip. "Oh – alright. You – you'll be home in time for dinner, right?"

"I will." He slipped on his shoes at the front of the door. Without so much as a 'goodbye', Midoriya Izuku opened the door, and closed it shut behind him. Midoriya Inko could only take a deep breath, bite down harder on her lower lip, and force back the dull, aching throb in her chest, as she asked herself, time and time again –

How?


XXXX


He hated this.

"Stand –" hated "fucking –" hated "still!"

He hated how the boy danced around his movements. How he did it with his nose buried in his fucking book. How he managed to weave out of the way of his explosions before the blasts could touch him. How he continued to ramble on about some stupid concept or some boring study about quirks he was reading about. How he never stumbled or slipped, even as his feet pirouetted and spun.

"So, Dr. Mashimoto proposed that it's possible for villains who use their quirk to not be held accountable for their crimes, due to certain quirks that trigger activities and impulses in the brain –"

He grit his teeth, roaring with all his might and slamming his two hands in front of him. "IZUKU!" The explosion was loud. It almost deafened him. But his body was strong. He'd trained his body for a long time, to get accustomed to the recoil of his blasts. His bones were stronger. His flesh was tougher. His ears were already used to the shockwaves. His hands did not care for the heat or the pressure, but he knew, if he pushed his quirk to utmost limit, his hand wouldn't be able to take it.

He did it anyway.

He planned this move to be his finisher. His coup de grace. He hadn't named it yet, but he was going for something like Howitzer. He didn't care for the name. He just wanted to win. He wanted to win.

The dust settled. The smoke cleared. The blasted green-haired ponytailed annoyance was nowhere in sight.

"There've also been incidents of people turning to villainy because of societal pressure and them being perceived that they have a villainous or evil quirk. Once the Pygmalion Effect kicks in, people who could have otherwise been heroes end up being shunned –"

"DAMN IT!" he spun around on instinct, palms already firing a blast into empty air. His eyes widened at the realization that no one was behind him. He'd fallen for it, again. Fucking Izuku and his fucking ventriloquist bullshit –

He spun back as quickly as he could with his palms ricocheting him, and a single finger stretched out, poking him in the forehead. "Kacchan, tag." The boy said. "So, anyway, I think there's more to this whole thing than we realized. It's not that I don't like getting special treatment for my quirk – I just don't like it when other people are - are you even listening?"

"What the fuck do you think?!" he snarled. He hated this feeling. Hated it. Hated it hated it hated it.

Both his arms were burnt. Aching. Throbbing. Sweat was dripping down his form. Soaking his shirt. Trailing from his forehead. He was panting, heavily. Exhausted. Tired. And yet – yet –

He hasn't even broken a fucking sweat –

Izuku's book closed with a snap. There was something, noticeably different, about him. It was the confidence. The fucking confidence. That was it. That was all that had changed between the past three months. With Izuku helping every fucking person that so much as asked for a dime or a penny, he did it with increasing flair and increasing gusto, he talked to more people, and reduced his muttering and stuttering, and the more people he helped, the more he talked to, the less he became worried about talking, the more confident he became.

Of course, Katsuki knew too well what it was like. To have an awesome quirk. To be born gifted. People adored Izuku now. They worshipped the fucking ground he walked on. He got discounts from shops. Free meals at the cafeteria. Invites to events. Of course, the green-haired idiot was the type of person who didn't want special treatment. He liked it, yes, but he didn't want it. He turned it down. And just because of that, he got slapped with the title of being 'humble' and it made people eat up whatever it was that he did even more, simply because the boy didn't have it in him to brag.

"That…" it took him a second to catch his breath. "That shit you mentioned… the pygmalion whatever. That's the self-fulfilling prophecy thing isn't it?"

Midoriya blinked twice. No matter how much the nerd's face had stopped looking nerdy and started looking too fucking pretty-boyish for Katsuki's tastes, there was no hiding that same stupid grin he always had.

"You were listening."

"Of course I fucking was," he muttered under his breath. "I can fucking kick your ass and still listen to your nerd-gibberish." He rose his partially burnt hands. "You explained that shit once. Something about how what we do to other people impacts what other people believe about us, and cause them to behave a fucking way to us, which reinforces our own beliefs about ourselves and go back full circle to influence the shit we do to other people."

Katsuki wasn't stupid. He could connect the dots between the stuff Izuku was always going off about and the shit that happened to him. He wasn't subtle at all in that regard. That self-fulfilling shit was what happened to Izuku. When he was quirkless and pathetic, he got told every day that he was quirkless and pathetic, and in return, he believed he was quirkless and pathetic, so he acted quirkless and pathetic, and that made others correctly believe he was quirkless and pathetic, and treat him like he was quirkless and pathetic.

Things had changed now. Now, he had a great quirk and went out of his way to help people with his quirk. Other people knew he had a great quirk, and treated him like he was great for it. Being treated great for his great quirk made him feel great. And cause he felt great… he acted it. And because he acted great, people believed he was great, so they treated him like he was great, and on and on the fucking cycle went.

Katsuki didn't mind. He fucking liked that Izuku was finally growing a pair of balls on his own. The problem he had was with the fucking annoying fact that Izuku would stop whatever he was fucking doing at any point to help someone in need. No matter fucking what, the nerd couldn't resist helping someone in need, even when he fucking knew that the person might be using him.

"So… what, you're saying that there's people out there who'd become villain scum just they're born with a shitty quirk that'd make them good at being fucking villain, and everyone treats 'em like villains cause of it?"

"Exactly!" Izuku nodded his head fervently. "It's wrong!"

Katsuki snorted. "It's how things are. If they don't have the guts to say fuck off to their haters, that's their problem."

"But things don't have to be that way Kacchan! Don't you see?" Izuku said. "Being a villain is the symptom, not the disease! If – if we could find the disease at its heart, and stop villains before they even become villains –"

"Then what? You'd put heroes out of fucking business?" Katsuki snorted. "That whole idea has fucking holes. You're forgetting assholes that are assholes just because they want to be assholes. Not everyone has a fucking sob story to justify why they're an asshole."

"Then – then with those ones, we'd help them – try to reform them –"

"And what'll you do if they don't fucking want to be reformed?"

Izuku pursed his lips. "Then… we make them reformed."

Katsuki's brow rose. "Make… them? Like what… brainwash them?"

"It's – I mean, it's better than locking them up all for life and letting them rot away somewhere when their quirks can still be used to help people, or save lives, or make the world a better place –"

Katsuki's brow rose a bit further. "Oi, you need to stop reading those fucking books of yours Izuku."

"But –"

"If you really fucking think that brainwashing people to do shit you want them to do is a good fucking thing, then you're a bit more fucked up in the head than I thought."

Izuku frowned. "It's not like I'm suggesting to steal everyone's free-will – just villains who choose not to be reformed. Is making them rot away in a jail cell supposed to be better?"

"It's their fucking choice. They fucking chose, and it's not in your place to play god and tell 'em to choose differently."

Sometimes, Katsuki didn't want to admit it, but he fucking preferred Izuku before he got his quirk. Sometimes. The boy was mopey, and a crybaby, and pathetic, and a ton of different shit that got on his nerves… but at the very least, he didn't have so many fucking crazy ideas. He wanted to be a hero, and that was that. He didn't care much else for being a hero. Or do much else outside of wanting to be a hero. That one-track-mind on one goal was admittedly relatable.

Quirk-Izuku… was something else. He didn't like violence, but would beat you into shit if it meant protecting someone. He would kowtow his head to the whims of anyone so long as they had a good enough sob story. It wasn't that he wasn't kind – that was the boy's fucking problem, he was too kind. He related too much with every-fucking-one and every-fucking-thing. He wanted to be a hero because he wanted to save as many people as possible. He wanted to save everyone.

The problem was, quirk-Izuku was proactive.

Heroes were fucking reactive by nature, and Izuku didn't like it. They acted only in defense, they spoke up only after spoken too, they arrived to save the day once the disaster had happened and the villain had struck.

Izuku wanted to be a hero that prevented the disasters. That stopped the villains before the villains even had time to fucking be villains. That intervened without being asked, and prevented evil before evil could happen.

Katsuki believed that was less of being a hero, and more of being a god.

And Midoriya Izuku was bull-headed enough to pursue after that goal regardless.

"How'd you get out of the range of my attack?" he asked finally. "It's been fucking bugging me. Your quirk gives you super-reflexes and all, I fucking get that. But it doesn't give you super speed or let you fucking teleport. Your major weakness is widespread attacks that you can't dodge or evade. But you somehow fucking got out of range of it anyway."

Izuku blinked, as if remembering something. "I was never in range."

"What do you mean you were never in fucking range? You were right in front of me –"

"For the brief second when you charged your attack…" Izuku pursed his lips. "But there's about three seconds of delay before you activate a powerful move, Kacchan. Also, when you use stronger explosions, your blasts obstruct your view. I used those seconds between your wind-up and your attack to get behind you."

Katsuki's eyes slowly widened. "Wait, so when I fucking heard your voice behind me –"

"I was… actually behind you."

"But I turned around –"

"And I mimicked your movements and turned around with you." Izuku explained. "Like… a sleight of hand trick where you hide a card in between your fingers, and because of different angles perception, it isn't seen by people in front of you, but can be seen by those behind."

Fucking… hell…

Katsuki Bakugo grumbled underneath his breath, feeling his irritation grow even worse at the realization that he'd been tricked. Three seconds of fucking delay? How the fuck did you even –

"Next time… Izuku… I'll fucking kick your ass."

"I'm looking forward to it, Kacchan."

As it stood, Katsuki Bakugo had never beaten Midoriya Izuku in a fight. However, Midoriya Izuku had never actually beaten Bakugo in a fight either. That was because Midoriya never actually fought back, and all he did was dodge and evade. The fights ended whenever Midoriya touched him a certain number of times, which was designed to also help Bakugo's own evasive abilities.

The first time they fought, Bakugo had been pissed at being unable to hit him, insisted that Midoriya fought back, and hadn't stopped attacking until Midoriya did something. Something, that till this day, Katsuki Bakugo would take to his grave.

He… tickled him.

He tickled Bakugo.

No one in Bakugo's entire life had ever had the balls to attempt such a thing, and so, without ever having attaining a resistance to it, Katsuki Bakugo was very, very ticklish. It was a weakness that Midoriya had exploited without a lick of guilt, tickling Bakugo until the boy literally passed out wheezing from laughter.

He woke up pissed, and ready to fight –

And Midoriya tickled him into unconsciousness a second time.

Bakugo stopped trying to force Midoriya to fight back after that.

"It's getting pretty late. We should get back in time for dinner. I'll even help your mom cook –"

"You go anywhere near my kitchen again and I will gut you."

"We both know I have the better knife handling Kacchan."

"Every time you cook, your turn it into a bloody science experiment."

"I can't help it if I want to be precise when cooking."

"I caught you fucking counting the grains of salt Izuku! The fucking grains of salt!" Katsuki yelled. "And you were flicking away perfectly good rice with some bullshit that they weren't tall enough!"

"But – they weren't!"

"It's fucking rice! It's not supposed to be tall!"

"But it shouldn't be shorter than the other rice grains in the bowl!"

"Who the fuck cares?!"

"I care! My mouth would notice the difference if some rice grains were shorter than others!"

"Then tell your mouth to suck it up, and manage the uneven rice like everyone else!"

God damned fucking Izuku…


XXXX


It was a new week at Aldera Junior High, and Katsuki Bakugo walked down the hallways with his friend. As always, the boy was grinning, letting those stupidly shiny teeth out to blind unsuspecting people with them.

"Hey! Izuku-kun! Looking good man!"

"Thanks Natsu-san!"

"Hey, Midoriya-kun, good morning!"

"Morning Yatsuhara-san!"

"Hey, Izuku-kun, I – I've got to get these books to the teacher's office – mind giving me a hand!"

"Sure thing!"

Katsuki Bakugo shot a heated glare at the boy who gave the request. His right eye twitched, his right hand came up, tiny sparks and explosions dancing around his thumb and index finger. Then, with that thumb, he dragged it along his neck, and spun his neck to the side. The mob got the message immediately.

"A-ah – d-don't worry about it! I-I shouldn't r-really be b-bothering you –"

"It's not a bother at all."

"I mean it's t-training! Y-yeah! I'm… strength t-training! B-bye!"

The boy scurried off, moving through the halls with the books in hand, and leaving Midoriya scratching the back of his head. "That was weird Kacchan. Why'd he ask for my help if he was training?"

Katsuki snorted. "Why the fuck does anyone do anything?" He slung his bag over his shoulder. "Whatever. Let's go."

Katsuki knew that class was dull for the most part. There wasn't much the teacher said that he already didn't know. And if there was something he fucking didn't know, the odds were 50-50 that Izuku knew it. Class had become Izuku's time for something else, which was, for the most part, bringing out his fucking encyclopedia-sized books and reading them. The teacher couldn't call him out on it, because Izuku was still taking fucking notes with his right hand to the side, and he was still listening to the teacher, so he could answer questions whenever he was asked.

Multitasking was something that Katsuki knew most people couldn't really fucking do. One way or another, one task would take more precedence over another, unless the person trying to do multiple shit at the same time possessed multiple limbs and a brain that could fucking control all of those limbs simultaneously.

Great… now even I'm fucking zoning out of class. The Explosion Quirk user found the teacher's lessons boring. Izuku was a better teacher, though he'd never fucking admit it to the boy's face. When Izuku explained a concept, he never needed to explain it twice. Somehow, it just clicked. Just… stuck. Of course, it was his shitty quirk working, and Katsuki knew it. His quirk could make Izuku the fucking best teacher in the world, because he knew exactly how to teach people at a pace and standard that was wholly, and completely unique to them.

So Katsuki found his mind wandering through class. Thinking about Izuku's stupid observations about stuff. One of those his books that he read, talked about how the difference in Quirks caused differences in physiology of people. Katsuki had never found himself wondering why only the sweat of his hands could secrete the nitroglycerin stuff he used to make his explosions until Izuku brought it up. He'd checked, of course, whether sweat from other parts of him could do it to, but there'd been no cigar. Just his hands. Which meant, just the sweat-glands in his hands. Which also, meant, if he ever lost his fucking hands – he'd be quirkless.

Mutant-type quirk users were fucking different. Their entire physiology was their quirk, and even though it sometimes made them into fugly looking bastards, they never had to worry about losing their quirks if they ever got disabled.

It wasn't that Katsuki believed such a thing would fucking happen, but he couldn't dismiss possibility. He wasn't going to become a wide-eyed bullshit naïve hero that'd believe everything would always work out and end well. He wanted to be the strongest hero, the fucking greatest hero, and you couldn't be the greatest hero if you didn't know your own weaknesses. Know your own weaknesses well enough that you'd have a fucking plan in case you faced off against someone who could figure it out too.

Thinking about weaknesses –

He glanced at Izuku from the corner of the eye. "Oi… Izuku."

"Hm?"

"If you wanted to take down Suzume…" he pointed to a girl in the front row. "How would you do it?"

The boy's eyes never left his book. "Easily…? Suzume-san's quirk lets her feel the emotions of other people around her. She's not really… good in combat. I'd just knock her out with a hit to the side of the head."

"And him," he pointed. "Natsu-san?"

"Natsu-san's quirk lets him absorb sunlight and make himself glow – it's not really combat oriented either–"

"How about sensei?"

Izuku's right hand stopped moving. He rose his head from the book, his pen lightly touching his lips in contemplation.

"Sensei's quirk is Stretchy Fingers isn't it? He can stretch his fingers up to eight meters… The best thing I could think of would be to restrict his movements by tying his fingers together when they stretch in my direction. I could also use them to tie him up, and he won't be able to untie them by himself…"

"Then," Katsuki said, "All Might."

"W-what?"

"If you wanted to beat All Might… how would you do it?"

"Why would I ever want to fight All Might?"

"Maybe he gets mind-controlled by a villain, or it's his evil clone or whatever. Doesn't matter. How would you do it?"

Midoriya Izuku's fingers steepled in concentration. "I… would try to avoid fighting him. Or… use distractions to keep him busy."

Katsuki's brow rose sharply. "What do you mean, distractions?"

"All Might's speed, strength, and power is too high to overcome. His stamina is something else too, so I can't win in any category."

All at once, Katsuki knew he'd gone too far once Izuku regained his atypical muttering.

"I could try to neutralize All Might with something that'd render him unconscious such as a gas – but – no, that won't work, All Might's resistance to most harmful chemicals is known, especially in that fight with Toxic Chainsaw… an alternative tactic would be to make All Might surrender on his own, but that would require a hostage-like situation, and if it's against an evil clone of All Might, he wouldn't care… So, the only way to stop All Might would be to be able to withstand the power and speed of his attacks and deliver them back in equal or superior quantities? A counter? Shock Absorption? No, Shock Nullification? A quirk which can reflect damage? But that's not taking into account All Might's own determination – so – it wouldn't work for too long – unless I can nullify All Might's quirk, but – that's not possible, not unless I have the Erasure Hero, Eraserhead on my side, but I don't see how I would – well, unless it's an Evil All Might we're talking about – but then – that wouldn't really be me stopping him –"

"Oi, Izuku, don't bother."

The boy stopped his muttering. "H-huh?"

"All Might… he's the strongest hero." Katsuki said, now more convinced than ever. "If even your bullshit quirk can't think of way to beat him on your own… then there's no fucking doubt about it."

It gave Katsuki a small amount of comfort. It lit a fire underneath him, as he realized just how much farther he had to go, to be able to reach that level. To stand at the top. To be unrivaled in strength, speed and power. He'd get there, someday. He knew he'd fucking get there.

He just had to work five times as fucking hard as he'd ever before. He'd been too complacent, up until now. Too self-assured, up until now. Izuku's Quirk had been the eyeopener. The bitter-fucking-pill that grounded him. So far, he'd been gifted, and so far, he'd never truly worked hard.

Now, though, Katsuki wasn't going to sit back. He was going to work himself into the ground, until he reached a point where he could bypass Izuku's bullshit reflexes. Make himself fast enough, to bypass a person whose reaction was faster than the speed of thought.

Wait… speed of thought?

"Oi… Izuku… do you think… you could dodge a bullet?"

"Er… I… might?" The boy scratched the back of his head. "I mean, I've never tried, but… I think I maybe could?"

That was fine, Katsuki thought. Now all he needed to do, was making himself faster than a speeding bullet.


XXXX


The school day came to a close, and Midoriya Izuku stretched his hands and slung his backpack across his bag to prepare to head home. For some odd reason, throughout the entire day, people had approached him for help, but then, they'd suddenly change their mind at the last minute and scurry away from him.

He'd asked Kacchan why it was happening, but Kacchan was his usual self, and didn't seem to care one way or another. Izuku was trying to find what the outlier was today, and the only thing he could think of, was that Kacchan had been with him throughout the entire day. Was it that people were naturally intimidated of Kacchan, so they wouldn't approach him as much as before?

No, it couldn't be that. Kacchan wasn't actually that scary at all. In fact, he was a bigger softie than he let on. So, what exactly was causing them to turn around and walk away?

He decided to test it out, telling Kacchan that he had somewhere to be. He actually did have somewhere to be, but there was no reason why Kacchan couldn't follow him.

"Where's that?"

"It's uh… kinda secret."

Kacchan's brows rose. "Secret?"

"I'm meeting up with Matsuda-san."

"Matsu –" Kacchan frowned. "That pervert that's always hiding his fucking boners in class? What the hell are you meeting him for?"

"He said he wanted to introduce me to some people he knows –" Izuku said. "Fellow… comic book and manga enthusiasts. Y'know? It's an… a… club."

"A fucking Otaku Club?"

"Well…" Izuku scratched the side of his chin. He couldn't deny it at this point. "Yeah."

Kacchan rolled his eyes. "Nerds. Fine. Whatever. We'll meet up tomorrow."

"Sure. See you later Kacchan!"

Ever grumpily, Kacchan waved back and muttered a goodbye of his own. Ensuring he was out of sight and earshot, Izuku Midoriya gripped his fist, and allowed himself to smile. "First, let's see if anyone around the school needs my help."

Most of the students not in extracurricular clubs had already gone home for the day, and Izuku spent his time walking around the school to ensure there was no one in need of assistance. He found, in some empty classrooms, a jotter, a pen, some books and rulers left behind by students. He made sure to pick them all up, check the registers for who was in what seat, and ensure that he'd give the missing items back to the owners the next morning.

Some classes were dirty with litter and packaging, and Izuki made sure to dispose of them in apptopriate bins, while cleaning out any dust and grime. He went, from classroom to classroom, using the spare chalk he could find to leave encouraging messages for the first students that'd be in school in the morning. From things like "You can do it!" to "Try your hardest everyone!" and "Go beyond! Plus ultra!" all accompanied by chibi-styled artworks of All Might grinning.

At the very least, the following morning, the first students in class would have something positive to start their day with.

"Ah… it's getting late."

Leaving the school premises, Izuku followed the long way around to get to the train station. He stopped a bit, to help catch a child who's ice-cream had fallen out of his scoop, to assist a group of younger students cross the road, and took a detour through the park, where he met with his ever favorite animal companion.

"Sir Kuro-kun, how's your day today?"

The cat purred, rubbing its cheeks against Izuku's legs.

"I can't stay and play with you for long, sorry. But, I saved up some snacks from lunch. Takoyaki – your favorite."

Feeding and parting ways with Sir Kuro the Shinigami, Izuku found himself troubled when the cat kept following him long after leaving the park. "Sir Kuro… you know you're not being stealthy."

The cat meowed. Izuku sighed. "Fine, I guess you're coming along with me."

Sir Kuro fitted snuggly inside his backpack, and Izuku ensured to leave the zipper open enough for the cat to peep his head out and get some oxygen. Taking the train from Musutafu to the Kamino Ward, Midoriya Izuku reached out into his bag, careful not to disturb Sir Kuro, and reached for one of the books he was reading.

Acupuncture for Acute Pains.

Finding the bookmark where he stopped, he indulged himself in the contents.

despite originating from Ancient Chinese Medicine, and often being underestimated by individuals of a science background as to having no perceived health benefits, the existence of quirks and the formation of a superhuman society provided the populace with the realization that things once originally thought and believed to be myth, possess deep roots entrenched in reality. The art of acupuncture is increasing in popularity, with numerous schools, such as the School of Apotheosis formed by Master Tang-Li, a man whose quirk allows him mastery of the energy of Qi – enabling him to perform activities once believed to only exist in the realm of fictional Wuxia novels.

Master Tang-Li has proven, with his mastery of the Seven Inquiries, the benefits of acupuncture not only on relieving pain, but also on affecting other aspects of the body, such as chills and fever, perspiration, appetite, thirst and taste, defecation and urination, and sleep. The focus of this book however, is on relieving, alleviating, and eliminating sensations of pain, but, we shall also glimpse shortly, into the other areas of the Seven Inquiries, and learn how Acupuncture can stop fevers, improve or regulate appetite, and even cure individuals of insomnia –

The train came to a stop at the designated station, and Midoriya Izuku bookmarked his page once more, and slipped his book back into his bag. Hauling it over his shoulder carefully so as to not wake Sir Kuro, he made his way to his destination.

Matsuda-kun said it was a bookshop called The Hero's Jump…

Navigation of environments was easy, even in locations he'd never been to before, because once Izuku took a simple glimpse at a map through his phone, he didn't need to look at it a second time. A precise, accurate layout of it stuck in his head. He learned the technique from another book he had, called Memory Palaces for the Mental Masters. He needed to thank Matsuda for the recommendation.

Marsuda wasn't joking about memorizing the names of every single hentai doujin he'd ever read or watched. He hadn't been exaggerating. The boy had done so, and he'd learned memory techniques just to ensure that he would always remember them.

Izuku hated that people saw Matsuda as a bad person, because of his hobbies and proclivities. He wasn't. He was just a person, like everyone else, doing his best with what he had. That was why it filled Izuku with guilt, when he'd made the mistake of disclosing what he'd done for Matsuda to his mother.

His mother hadn't understood. She didn't know Matsuda. She didn't believe that Matsuda was not some deviant or some sort of horrible person.

The fault, Izuku knew, lay with him. It'd been his fault, for trying to tell and explain everything he did to his mother. To try and ignore the ache of the past and move forward with her. Yet, once more, a second time –

She didn't believe in him.

That was all he ever wanted, from her. To believe in him. Was it… too much to ask? Was it?

He'd expected Matsuda to be angry at him. Pissed at him. Genuinely upset at him. Instead, when they'd met in school, after he'd been punished at home, the boy had shrugged, shook his head, and said: "I'm already used to it."

It stung Midoriya. Stung, that he'd betrayed someone's trust by trusting someone else. Not even Matsuda-kun's parents had any trust or belief in him, and for Izuku, a person who'd trusted him, to later do something that was akin to betrayal –

Izuku steeled his mind and his breathing as he approached his destination. The Hero's Jump was a comic shop, that was true, but it also seemed to double as some sort of… café, or library. Walking into the place, the bell chimed softly, and he could see rows upon rows of bookshelves filled with contents, collectible All Might, Endeavor and Hawks action figures and posters on sale. There was, unsurprisingly, an 18+ section, which had a yawning teen in uniform sitting in front of, most likely to deter younger people from entering.

"Hey, Izuku! Over here!"

Matsuda waved him over, from a seat with three others.

Swallowing down his own hesitation and awkwardness, he approached the group.

"H-hey Matsuda-san –"

He rolled his eyes. "Drop the -san already. Don't tell me you're still thinking about that stuff that happened?"

He was.

Matsuda waved him off. "Forget it. It's in the past. Parents will be parents. So, so –" he hung his right hand over Izuku's shoulder. "Izuku-kun, allow me to introduce you to some of my friends! The Legion of Hentai Aficionados!"

There were two boys present, and one girl. One of the boys seemed to have something like a speech-bubble for a head. Another one was short, with purple-hair that seemed to be curled into round balls. The third one, the girl, was the oddest one of the group. Oddest, considering she looked distinguished. With pale skin, cat-like eyes, thick upper lashes, and straight, waist-length pale gray hair, she was, somehow, the most eye-catching of the group.

Is she wearing… a monocle?

She was. She was legitimately wearing a monocle over her right eye.

"Hey, hey hey Matsuda! Stop introducing us like 'WHAM' we're hentai readers! We read other stuff too, that goes like 'BAM' and 'KABOOM!'"

Izuku tilted his head. "Ka…boom?"

The speech-bubble boy nodded. "KABOOM!"

"Allow me to introduce you. Izuku, meet my friend Fukidashi Manga. You can probably tell, but he tends to love a lot of manga expressions and onomatopoeia." Matsuda pointed. "The idiot with the purple balls for hair trying to talk to the girl out of his league is my cousin, Mineta."

"There are no such things as leagues damn you!"

"And," Matsuda ignored him, "The ojou-sama over there is Intelli Saiko. She's wicked smart – but even if she didn't have an IQ of 150, she'd know never to give Mineta the time of day."

"Curse you blood of my blood!"

"Dude, I keep telling you, the thirstier you appear, the lower your odds." Matusda shook his head. "Anyway, everyone, this is Midoriya Izuku. Aldera Junior High's ace student. I'm slowly inducting him into our world."

"Yo, yo, nice to meet you Izuku! Let's have some 'POW' and "RA-TAT-TAT!'"

"He means let's have some fun," Matsuda translated.

"Ah…" Izuku managed to say.

Mineta stared at him, the boy's eyes narrowing sharply. "Matsuda… you didn't tell me your friend was a pretty-boy. I don't like pretty-boys. We don't like pretty boys. Pretty boys are bad news for the rest of us."

"Ah… I'm not, really –"

"You look like the sub in a yaoi manga."

"…Thanks? I think?"

Mineta harrumphed. "Fine. I'll test you. Boobs or Butts?"

Izuku blinked. "Um… w-what?"

"Which are more divine pretty-boy! Tits or Ass?"

"Ignore him," Matsuda said. "I've learned to."

"We have to know where he stands!"

"Um… boobs?"

Mineta nodded sagely. "A fellow man of culture."

Matsuda rubbed his palm down his face. Manga laughed at the cousins, but Saiko – Saiko seemed to be observing everything, quietly.

"Now for the final test! Big titties or small titties?"

"Mineta –" Matsuda warned.

"Um… does size… even matter?"

"You're right!" Mineta slammed his hands on the table, rising up, with his fist in the air. "Titties are titties! Size, shape, it doesn't matter! All boobs are the best boobs! All boobs deserve tender love and care! To be squeezed! To be groped! For those wonderful nipples to grace eager lips and – ack!"

Matsuda put his smaller cousin into a choke hold with his right elbow, the boy's eyes twitching. "Excuse me for a moment, Izuku… my cousin and I need to have a… talk."

"You can't suppress my gospel! The truth must be known! A prophet is always rejected by his own people! Izuku! Preach my gospel! Carry on my message! Do not let me demise be in vain!"

Izuku tried to suppress his nervous laughter at sight. I never thought I'd meet someone more passionate about than Matsuda…

"Midoriya-san, is it?"

It was the first time he'd heard Saiko speak. Her voice and Japanese, was, as he'd expected, clearly high-class. Distinguished, at the very least, from what the rest of them used.

"Ah… yes, that's me."

She steepled her fingers. "I, am a genius." She announced.

"That's… great?"

"You must certainly be wondering what someone of my station is doing in a place like this, must you not?"

"Well… no, not really." Midoriya rubbed the back of his head. "Different people have different interests… so… I can't really, judge you or anything. If you like reading manga or hentai… then, that's cool too. It's always nice to have hobbies… and people you can share them with."

Saiko hesitated on her next words. "I –" she pursed her lips. "Well, I was not expecting such… acceptance so easily."

"It's fine," Midoriya said. He turned to Manga. "So, how did you all meet?"

"A Comic Convention,"

"Comic Con, 'BOOM'!"

"Ah."

"We were all fans of a particular niche mangaka who only makes a certain type of… work. Manga-kun, Matsuda-kun and I were the only three individuals who knew who she was, and who requested signatures. We sat for a cup of tea and discussed our interests. Later on, Matsuda-kun introduced his… cousin." She said that word with no small amount of irritation.

Izuku had a feeling that Saiko was not exactly fond of Mineta.

"Regardless, Midoriya-san, Matsuda-kun mentioned that you were something of an artist yourself. Though, for some reason, he said he made a promise to not show or mention what it is you draw."

Midoriya's cheeks flushed. His heart pounded softly in his chest. "W-well… I'm not… I mean I am, but it's… it's mostly because of my quirk."

Manga and Saiko leaned in, curious now.

"My quirk is called Precision. Basically, it lets me do anything in the world that requires even the tiniest bit of precision, and do it without error. It also makes me more precise… but I still haven't figured out by how much… or if there's more to it."

"Coooool," Manga said. "Very cool."

Saiko's head nodded along with the judgment. "That is a rather amazing quirk."

"Ah, that's true… what's yours?"

"My Quirk is called Comic. It let's me bring my words to life and sets heart alight like 'BA-DUM, BA-DUM!'"

Izuku stared at the floating onomatopoeia, the characters doki-doki moving through the air from Manga, and landing softly on the table, making it vibrate twice, like a heart-beat.

"That's so cool!"

"Thanks, yo!"

Saiko cleared her throat. "My quirk isn't something as visual, unfortunately. It's called IQ. It lets me boost my intellect by drinking tea."

Izuku blinked at that bit of knowledge. Boost intellect? "Does the type of tea you drink matter?"

Saiko smiled. "It does. Astute observation, Midoriya-san."

"Wait, but… you're already a genius. Matsuda said you have an IQ of 150."

Saiko preened. "I am. And I do."

"And your quirk, boosts that?"

"It does."

"That's… that's amazing!" Midoriya exclaimed. "I can't even imagine what that's like. Like… what goes through your mind and what you're always thinking about, or – or thoughts and ideas and concepts that you brainstorm must be –"

Saiko was staring at him oddly. Midoriya caught himself, feeling heat run to his cheeks. I'm rambling. I almost started rambling again. "Um…"

"Your Quirk is far more impressive, the way I see it. If you can be extremely precise, does that not mean you could do impossible things such as master how to perform brain surgery in one day? Or engineer gadgets and devices with a mechanical intricacy that cannot be rivaled by machines?"

"I… suppose…"

Saiko hummed. "So I take it you're applying to a distinguished Medical School? Or perhaps a top-name Engineering Institution?"

"Ah… actually, I want to become a hero."

"A… hero? With… your quirk?" Saiko's lips thinned a bit. "Well, you could certainly succeed at such… but… wouldn't that be a waste?"

"What – what do you mean?"

"You could save a lot more lives, and contribute a lot more to society as a doctor or surgeon. Or perhaps even an inventor. In comparison, there are only so many people you can save as a hero, and the risks and odds of injuries and death are exponentially higher for Pro Heroes than Surgeons."

"It's my dream to be a hero."

"And following your dreams is a nice advice that works great in manga and anime, but shouldn't be taken at face value in real life." She pointed to herself. "While I was younger, I also wanted to be a hero. Imagine that. With my IQ and a quirk that could multiply it, and the best way I thought I could contribute to society was to put my life on the line in a profession that addresses the symptoms of a disease and not the cause."

Izuku couldn't stop himself from flinching. Saiko noticed it immediately.

"Oh, so, you've also had that thought too, haven't you? About how Pro Heroes are basically band-aids for a cancerous wound. The Symbol of Peace is the strongest deterrent to crime… but the Symbol of Peace isn't immortal. A day will come, perhaps not now, not tomorrow, but a day will come, when the Symbol of Peace is gone, and then, what exactly will become of society?"

"Woah… this er… kinda got heavy." Manga spoke up, clearing his throat.

Saiko frowned. "Did it? I apologize. As a side-effect of both my quirk and my intellect, I have been told I am lacking severely in emotional intelligence and empathy. Spending more time with people is supposed to aid me in better understanding why people tend to default to emotions than logic… but I have not gained much success in that regard."

"Changing topics, Midoriya-san, may I see your quirk in action?"

Midoriya's allowed himself to breathe, even as he tried to ignore the words, the dull, idle stab in his chest. "My… quirk?"

"Yeah! Let's see your drawing chops!"

Manga reached into his backpack, bringing out a sketchpad and pencil. The objects found themselves in Midoriya's hands.

"Do you take requests, Midoriya-san?"

"S-sure… what… what would you like?"

"Endeavor and All Might in a passionate lover's embrace."

"…ah… a-ah… w-well…" No! The All Might fanboy in him screamed. No! No! No! No! No! "A-any o-other requests?"

"Was something wrong with my original?"

Midoriya coughed into his hand, casting a silent glance at Manga. Help Me.

"Um… it's somewhat of a tall challenge for his first request Saiko. Maybe someone less… muscly?"

Saiko frowned a bit, then nodded. "I understand."

Thank you! Midoriya mouthed.

"Best Jeanist and Hawks in a lover's embrace should be far easier."

"H-how about I just… draw you?" Midoriya offered.

"Me? I'm not so vain as to ask of a portrait of myself."

"Y-you should," Midoriya pressed. "You – you really should. You're beautiful. Y-you'd make an excellent muse."

"W-well," Saiko stuttered. "I appreciate the flattery. If – if you insist, then I suppose... I would not mind."

Midoriya and Izuku let out collective sighs of relief. Izuku did not hesitate, nor did he give Saiko time to change her mind about the matter. With his right hand, he spun the pencil between his fingers, and started to 'draw.' He focused, rather than on creating a simple picture, creating something far more elegant, an ideal, a goal, tapping deep into what he felt about Intelli Saiko's aura. His right hand raced down the sketchpad, from left to right, printing out his vision.

Thirty seconds later, he breathed a sigh of relief at his finished work.

"Done."

"Woah." Manga said.

"Can I see it?"

The portrait, was different. It was of Intelli Saiko, but it was of her, as a different person. She was smiling, expressive, in the portrait, dressed in an elegant business suit, staring straight into the eyes of those who would glance at the portrait, with a gaze of mischievous intelligence. He didn't focus much on the background, but the foreground, the tiny features, the curve of her nose, the arch of her chin, the number of lashes on her brow –

Drawn to exact, precise detail. Another portrait that could be mistaken for a photograph.

Saiko stared at it for several seconds in silent contemplation.

"Midoriya-san…"

"Um… y-yes?"

"Would you be willing to be consider a Quirk Marriage with me?"

Midoriya Izuku choked on his saliva.

"We're back! What did we miss?"

The scene that Matsuda and Mineta returned to, was Manga laughing, Saiko's eyes glistening in bliss at an exquisitely drawn portrait, and Midoriya Izuku, coughing and sputtering while asking for water.

"I'll take it we missed a lot."