There's a chapter that was posted right before this one if you missed it.

Gods formatting this chapter was a bitch. Damn FF not letting me insert tables...


A Precise Note


What did I fucking expect?

"Congratulations, young Bakugo!"

Even seeing All Might's face on the personal recording didn't change anything. His mother ruffling his hair and squeezing him didn't make him feel any fucking better. His dad telling him how proud he was didn't change a fucking thing.

"You have been formally been accepted into UA Academy –"

He was always going to make it. That was a given. That had never been in fucking doubt for even a bloody goddamned second. Seeing the bloody fucking message wasn't what had him down. No, it was the rankings that came next, the break down of the results, which boiled his blood and quenched the fire that should have been roaring in his chest.

What did I fucking expect?

What did I fucking expect?

Name || Written Exam | Practical Exam || Hero Evaluation || Rank

Midoriya Izuku || 100 || 50 || 50 || 1st

Bakugo Katsuki || 87 || 39 || 23 || 2nd

Tokoyami Fumikage || 65 || 25 || 21 || 3rd

Shiozaki Ibara || 61 || 25 || 20 || 4th

Shinsō Hitoshi || 71 || 25 || 13 || 5th

Asui Tsuyu || 50 || 25 || 11 || 6th

Shoji Mezo || 32 || 25 || 20 || 7th

Tetsutetsu Tetsutetsu || 23 || 25 || 21 | 8th

Kirishima Eijirō || 23 || 25 || 20 || 9th

Uraraka Ochaco || 20 || 25 || 15 || 10th

Congratulations to all successful applicants!

Attached below are the list of essential items needed for the start of the school semester.

We hope to see you all on the Fourth of April!

Go beyond, Plus Ultra!

Over fifty fucking points.

Izuku outstripped him by over fifty fucking points. Katsuki wanted to burn something. Wanted to hit something.

FUCK! FUCK!

"Oi Katsuki! What's with the face? Shouldn't you be happy?"

"Second place. Second-fucking place."

"So what? You're still accept – hey! Where the hell are you going?"

"To go fucking train!"

He slammed the door behind him, grinding his teeth as he did so. A part of him, the old part of him, wanted to go take out his anger on Izuku. Except he knew now that it was scummy behavior. It was trash behavior. Shit that was unfitting of a hero. That aside, he couldn't touch the nerd anymore.

Izuku's bullshit quirk would just let the boy dance around him for hours and hours until Katsuki got tired and collapsed from exertion. And that wouldn't solve his anger, no, it'd just make him more fucking pissed.

FUCK!

It was his fault. His fault, for not listening to the nerd's constant crazy talk as well as he should have. And maybe, maybe he shouldn't have sworn as much as he did to the heroes playing dress-up. Those prissy bastards must have deducted his fucking score because he didn't say his 'pleases' and 'thank-yous'.

Well fuck them!

He marched down the road, gritting his teeth.

No, fuck you, you fucking imbecile.

All Might didn't swear like he did. All Might didn't get angry like he did. He wasn't a fucking moron. Having a hero who swore left right and center and got pissed all the time would only work if that was your brand. It worked for Endeavor, but Endeavor was the eternal loser stuck at second place.

Katsuki didn't want to be Endeavor 2.0. Fuck that.

No fucking way.

The smart thing to do, as much as he hated to admit it, would be to limit his swearing. Sure, he could still glare when morons were being morons, but he had to be fucking tactical about it.

Yeah, that's it – that's what I need to do.

He wasn't going to change his personality or censor himself to please idiots who skirted around sensitive shit and would rather be quiet than speak up when shit hit the fan. No, Katsuki knew there was no fucking way he'd bend over sideways to everyone and everything.

Restraint – some fucking restraint.

He would train his personality the same way he trained his quirk. He'd long since learned to restrain the power of his explosions to avoid blowing people to smithereens, learned to control it and direct it, so, how fucking hard could it be to do the same thing to his word choice?

He'd look for substitute for swear words, swear in languages no one could understand, or limit his swearing to their PG-13 versions. Do whatever it took. As for his temper –

The hell am I supposed to do? Anger Management?

Fuck that. No fucking way. He'd rather off himself than that.

He didn't know yet. That was fine. He'd figure it out before classes started. He'd find a solution.

Never again.

As long as he never got second place again to Izuku again, Katsuki Bakugo would do any fucking thing.

Any-fucking-thing.


XXXXX


The Hero's Jump

"Bad?" Matsuda guffawed. "What constitutes bad writing?"

"Poor characters," Saiko pointed out. "Terrible grammar. Atrocious spelling. A dull, cliché plot with a predictable ending –"

"What constitutes poor characters?"

"Well," she poured her tea, steaming into the cup, a hum alight on her lips. "Characters that aren't well written. Believable. Or characters that are simply inconsistent. Or worse, characters that don't feel like characters. They have no agency, personality, or purpose besides being there because the plot needs them there."

"Books aren't like real life y'know," he grumbled. "In a book, every character only exists because they have a reason to exist."

She clanked the mug against the table. "Humans do have a reason to exist."

"Do we?"

"Yes, we do." She stressed. "We're not turning this into another philosophical debate." She sipped her tea, slowly. "We're talking books and writing."

"Fine, fine, back to books then," he waved his hands. "Can there ever actually be such a thing as a bad book?"

"There can be books generally considered by a mass consensus to be bad, yes."

"Poor quality," he corrected. "Not bad. Lacking in quality. Think about it. Think about the worst book you've ever read. Now think about all the problems you have with that book. Now, imagine, someone, comes along with an improvement quirk, and he were to take that book, and remove every single fault you could outline."

She blew lightly on her tea. "It wouldn't be the same book."

"Wouldn't it?" he gestured to himself. "If I were to work on myself, hit the gym 24/7, learn a new language and spend a lot of money on plastic surgery, would I no longer be me?"

"What did I say about diverging into philosophy? You're bringing identity metaphysics into this now?"

"Would I, or would I not be the same person?"

She stirred the tea in her hand with a plastic spoon. "Are you trying to argue that there are no bad books, only bad writers?"

"Inexperienced writers," he corrected. "Every 'bad' writer just hasn't written enough and gathered enough feedback to know better. Every 'average' writer hasn't written enough to break the mold and create outstanding works, or they're so comfortable with safe and formulaic works, that they don't bother trying harder."

"Is that so?"

"I'm telling you. Nobody willingly writes anything and thinks to themselves 'this is going to be the most atrocious piece of literature the world has ever seen'. It's harder to write bad works on purpose than it is to simply write what you believe is your best work, but not realize just how far off the mark you are."

"Entertaining as your argument is, you still aren't convincing me that your Midnight x Mirko femdom yuri fan fiction is the holy grail of modern literature."

"Oh come on!" Matsuda pouted. "You didn't even read it!"

"I skimmed through it," she said plainly. "It read exactly like a cheap doujinshi and is ridiculous from the premise to the very first sentence."

Matsuda crossed his arms. "You don't believe Mirko and Midnight would get together?"

"Assuming we were in some weird fantasy world where actively fetishizing the sexual lives of two real people wasn't inappropriate, and we were further in some alternate reality in which both women possessed homosexual feelings for each other, I still highly doubt that Midnight would be as submissive as you've written her."

"It wouldn't work out otherwise!" Matsuda explained. "Mirko's already… you know…" his hands gestured to the air helplessly. "Mirko." He finished. "It'd be weird if I wrote her as the submissive type. I mean, it just makes sense that when two rough personalities clash, the more hot-headed one becomes dominant."

"Uh-huh."

"What did you think about the sex scenes?"

"I think that's an inappropriate question to ask."

"So you loved them."

She almost choked on her tea. Coughing to clear her airways, she neatly wiping her lips with a handkerchief of dignity restoral +1.

"…they had… their merits, I'll admit." She cleared her throat a second time, averting eye contact. "Despite your initial depiction of Midnight shattering my suspension of disbelief… somehow you managed to put together a rather… fresh scene."

"I knew I did something right!"

"You have a disturbingly better grasp of female anatomy than perhaps ninety-nine percent of male authors out there… and that makes you among the one percent of people who actually know what they're writing." She shook her head. "Unfortunately."

"I could always write like the ninety-nine percent you know," Matsuda grinned.

"Please don't."

"Her breasts peaked over the confines of her brassiere like edgy meerkats, her nipples were dog-nose wet and walnut hard. Winter winds engaged their lecherous thoughts through her silken blouse, her body shuddered; a naked mole rat in a sealed refrigerator amidst Titanic's tragic wreckage –"

"Intelli-san?"

"Ah, Midoriya-kun, I've been wai –"

Different.

That was the first word that came to mind upon setting her eyes on Midoriya Izuku for the first time in months. Her eyes traced him, from head to toe, and made snap analysis and deductions as rapidly as possible. He was taller, certainly, and more toned. Lean muscle mass was visible on every speck of his form, so much so that finding any fat was an impossible feat. His face was angular now, refined and sharper. His hair was longer, felled backwards into a ponytail.

His clothes were different, casual wear that passed as fashionable. His posture was different, relaxed, aloof, and almost absolutely, utterly, apathetic. Eyes which she remembered once upon a time burning alight with easily readable emotions of excitement or joy, were now unreadable, sharp, and sloth-like.

There were whispers now that followed him. Giggles coming from young girls, accompanying hushed, embarrassingly overt pointing and gesturing in his direction.

A backpack lay, lazily across the boy's back, and ignorant to the whispers or perhaps nonchalant to them, he took a seat directly beside her, opposite Matsuda. Her brows furrowed even further at the overt, blatantly brazen move.

Like perhaps the numerous other young women who'd found themselves unable to tear their gazes away from him, she, similarly, could not do so. It was not his jarringly notable facial symmetry that kept her gaze, nor was it the aura of aloofness and confidence that emanated from him in waves that amplified his sense of social desirability.

She stared at him, because, in earnestness, she could not believe he was… him.

"Matsuda-kun, I didn't think I'd meet you here."

Even his voice was different. There was no stutter. There was no delay. A silky tonality emerged from it that felt as though it belonged to a heavily well-rehearsed character.

Her eyes snapped from him, back to Matsuda, and from Matsuda, back to him once more. She sensed a social discomfort, more so from Matsuda than from Midoriya.

"Ah, well, y'know." Matsuda cleared his throat a bit. "I was in the area, and I saw Saiko-san sitting here and waiting… so… yeah," Matsuda cleared his throat a second time, despite her knowing that there was clearly nothing for him to clear.

"Right… I'll um… I er… I mean, now that you're here," Matsuda hopped to his feet. "I've actually got some stuff to take care of at home… but, at least, you're here so… Saiko-san doesn't have to sit alone… yeah."

"Thanks for keeping her company, Matsuda-kun."

Matsuda's grin was half-hearted. "Sure – sure thing. I'd say see you at school but… y'know. You're off to UA and I'm… yeah." Matsuda turned to her. "Nice catching up again Saiko-san."

He left the café faster than she could question his sudden urgent business. Her eyes trailed back to Midoriya, narrowing slightly.

"Is there something I should be aware of, going on between you two?"

Midoriya smiled, but it didn't reach his eyes. "There was an incident. Matsuda and I… had different views. He was… jealous. He said I was making a big deal out of nothing. I got angry, and he got angry, and we both said some things we really shouldn't have. We fought but… he lost." Midoriya's smile dimmed. "He didn't apologize, and I wasn't going to apologize either… and um… I guess that settled it."

"I see."

She was by no means an idiot. She could infer between the lines far better than most. There were only a handful of things which would make Matsuda jealous, and only a handful of things, given Midoriya's phrasing, that he could be referring to.

"This incident… did you report the matter to the authorities?"

He gave her a crinkled smile. "Thank you, Intelli-san, but it isn't necessary." The smile managed to reach his eyes this time. "I appreciate your concern."

Warmth found its way to her cheeks. No sooner did the action occur did the conscious realization of its occurrence mortify her.

Okay, calm yourself, she breathed. This is a natural biological occurrence. It is not inconceivable for your subconscious mind to have instinctively classified Midoriya as a viable mate for reproduction. This does not mean you need to act on these instincts. You are more than your instincts, Saiko.

"This quarrel with Matsuda, it isn't something you want to smooth over?"

"I wanted to but…" Midoriya leaned back, a faraway look on his face. "The truth is, Intell-san, I think I used to be the type of person who clung to people. I don't like it. I don't like that part of myself. I don't want to be someone who always smiles and holds on to people no matter how bad or toxic or mean they are to me. I don't want to be the one who's always sorry, and always apologizing. I always thought having bad friends was better than having no friends, but… I guess, I was wrong."

"You believe Matsuda to be a bad friend?"

"Matsuda isn't a bad person…" he searched for the words. "But being around him made me do things that aren't really right… and I did them thinking that it didn't matter, so long as I was doing it for right reasons."

She quirked her brow, nonverbally asking the unasked question. When he didn't respond, she followed up.

"Things such as?"

Izuku shook his head. "We might not be close anymore, but I'm not going to slander his character behind his back, Intelli-san."

"It isn't quite slander if what you say about him is true."

"It'd be gossip, and that's not… really any better."

Surprising.

"If you insist," she acquiesced. "So, Midoriya-kun –"

"Izuku."

She blinked. She stared. "Sorry?"

"Izuku," he said. "Izuku is fine."

"Izuku," she allowed the word to emerge. "Then I suppose you may dispense with the formalities and call me Saiko."

For the first time since sitting directly beside her, he turned to face her. His eyes, sharper than she remember, bore directly into hers with a fierce intensity that was almost criminal.

"I-Is something on my face?"

"I did it, Saiko."

He didn't specify what it was. He didn't need to. Her brain was busy calculating, working and racing to find an adequate, realistic answer to his declaration.

"You… did it."

"I did it."

"You successfully refined –"

He nodded, twice.

The noise of the café muffled around her. She felt something constrict her chest. Her lungs felt several sizes too small, and her stomach churned as though she'd drank expired milk. The boy in front of her, the recent High Schooler, in front of her, was telling her that he'd done something which she'd been incapable of, which numerous scientists working hard in labs had failed to effectively do.

The boy sitting in front of her, was the first man alive to refine the quirk altering drug Trigger, the first person in the world to create a fully functioning quirk augmentation drug, with relatively little to no drawbacks.

She felt the blood rush to her cheeks more strongly. Her stomach did loops. Izuku Midoriya's perfectly symmetrical face suddenly became the most beautiful face she'd ever seen in her entire life. Down below, she felt a sensation that only ever came when silently reading through erotic works to alleviate her boredom.

I am aroused, she realized.

"You've tested its effectiveness?"

His gaze never left her. "Successfully." He sounded almost giddy. "It improved the effectiveness of the targeted quirk by two-hundred percent, and eliminated previous limitations."

Her nipples hardened. She was aware of this. Vividly, overtly aware of this. Even more so aware of her arousal below. Her breathing slowed. It became shallower, softer. The background echo of the world around her muffled even less.

"And…" she licked her suddenly dried lips. "…potential drawbacks?"

"Well, so far, the only potential drawback is sensory overload from unexpected intensification of the quirk factor," he paused, as if remembering something. "And. Um… a possible amplification of bio-personality traits in individuals with quirks strongly related to their behavior. But – but, that's not an issue… so far. Beyond that… it has less harmful side effects than over-the-counter penicillin."

Oh, god. She almost gasped. Almost. Only her self-respect and dignity stopped her. His gaze never left her. The realization that he might know the effect his words were having on her came to her. Does he know? She examined his expression. His unchanging, fierce expression. She could not tell. Midoriya Izuku had an inscrutable poker face.

Did he have any idea the sheer ramifications of his achievement? Disregarding the billions that could be earned if his variant was sold to warmongering governments, disregarding how it would utterly shatter the world's balance and normativity of the power levels of quirks and disregarding still the fact that he had essentially devised an ambrosia that would turn mortals into gods –

The fact that he'd accomplished this in less than a quarter of the timespan one would spend to get a university degree –

Oh, my, god.

She breathed out slowly. She felt as though she were burning up. No, she was burning up.

Breathe – breathe – control yourself –

She was finding it difficult. The physical rarely moved her, no, it did not. Intelli Saiko was moved by greatness. She was, without a doubt, an extreme sapiosexual. Brilliance aroused her, and extraordinary brilliance aroused her extraordinarily.

Focus, Saiko. Focus… you have to play this right.

What was her next course of action from here? Openly declare her arousal to him? No, she ran the risk of scaring him off with such. Outright state her desire to have his genes within her? No, again, such a tactic was too forward. The boy was what, fifteen? Thought of marriage and settling down were of no interest to him now.

Focus, Saiko!

All her plans were skewed due to her overwhelming arousal. She was not thinking straight and she was vividly aware of it.

"Saiko, is something wrong?"

He leaned into her, and a whiff of his perfume made her dizzy. Her toes curled within her shoes and she bit on her lower lip.

"P-perhaps I could use a drink."

"I'll get something for you. Tea?"

"Yes, please. Thank you."

He left, for a moment, and she exhaled the breath she didn't even know she was holding.

Pull yourself together Saiko, and ask, what does he want?

That was the question, the crux of it. Right now, he was the peahen, and she needed to be the peacock strutting her feathers. He'd proven himself capable and resourceful, despite how much she initially doubted him. What did she have that she could offer him, now and here, in exchange not only for his serums, but his brilliance?

What had his goal been?

She believed he desired to put an end entirely to superhero society. To produce and manufacture over-the-counter medication that could be used to suppress the negative aspects of quirks, or outright eliminate quirks altogether.

That's problematic.

She benefited, abundantly, from the existence of quirks. A quirkless society did not fit her ideals nor did it make it possible for her to attain any of her goals. Removing quirks wouldn't remove inequality and suffering as Midoriya innocently believed, it'd instead shift them to something else. Wealth, social standing, or even race.

There would be perhaps, more problems born in a Post-Cleanse society than there would be solutions. Worse still, Midoriya's beautiful quirk, one which allowed him to do the amazing things he was capable of, how could she look at such a thing and desire to prevent more of it from existing?

No, that can't happen.

It was fine. Midoriya was still young, and despite all his changes and brilliance, he was still naïve. Age and experience would hopefully wean out that ridiculous desire to end all quirks. Better yet, she would find a way to trim down his egalitarian purification and focus majorly on eliminating the negative quirks first.

Then, utilizing quirk-removal as a federally-mandated punishment for incarcerated criminals who commit grievous offenses could be the next step. Once individuals knew that quirks could be taken away from them as punishment for crimes, those who valued their quirks would be wary of leaping into criminal behavior. Of course, it would also mean an increase in death and/or injury of law enforcement, as individuals would fight harder to resist capture – but this was a given.

Except… we can't trust the government.

Japan's government was either inept, corrupt, or both. Giving them the power to remove quirks? Saiko almost laughed. No, that would end badly for all of them. The ability to remove quirks needed to be trusted in the hands of a select few – namely themselves. Hence, they needed to be judge, jury and executioner. They needed to rule supreme and without question.

To do that, they'd need to seize control of the government.

"I got you the tea."

"Izuku," Saiko said as soon as he took his seat, again, beside her. "How opposed are you to toppling the government?"

He tilted his head. "Um, what?"

"Toppling the government."

"I wouldn't know where to start," he itched his cheek, laughing awkwardly. "But… that question, are you… saying you're planning on helping me?"

"Well, yes. Though not to the extremes of your plan."

Midoriya smiled. "I appreciate the offer, Saiko, but… it isn't necessary."

Those were not the words Intelli Saiko wanted to hear.

"I don't understand."

"I've figured out a way to reach my goals without burdening you with them, so you can rest easy."

This is not happening. She furrowed her brows. Was there an error in my calculations?

"I don't understand." She repeated. "My assistance would be vital. The entire reason you approached me in the first place was because you needed it –"

"I did," Midoriya said, nodding. "But that was before I realized what I was capable of. Now… I don't need to worry you."

She took the tea from the table and all but gulped down the hot liquid. She set her quirk to work. Numbers, data, things she said, things she didn't say, micro-expressions, and the most minute of details were all fed into an algorithm with the goal to search for answers.

Only three stood out. The other two were unlikely and unfeasible respectably, therefore by process of elimination, only one stood out.

"Is this because I doubted you?"

"What? NO!"

Translation: Yes.

She was surprised. She hadn't anticipated Izuku being the type of person who had a subconscious mean streak.

"I apologize for doubting your capabilities, even though, at the time, I was perfectly within my rights to have doubts that you were anything but another middle schooler with grandiose dreams and no ways to achieve them."

"Saiko, this has nothing to do with that! I just… made different plans."

Translation: You aren't forgiven.

She huffed. "Can we not add unnecessary drama into our lives please? I understand that you feel slighted, and I have apologized. If you feel I need to make further amends, tell me what I need to do, and I'll see to it."

"Saiko, you're making this into something that it isn't –"

"Stop it, Izuku."

"I'm not doing anything!"

"You know what you're doing. I'm not a child Izuku, nor am I a fool. You want to punish me."

"What? Why would I –"

"Because you're resentful." She glared. "You want to punish me for not believing in you. You want me to regret my actions at that point in time, even though they were perfectly logical. No one in this world believes you're capable of anything without evidence to back it up, Izuku."

"Saiko –"

"Just because I didn't believe in you when you desperately wanted me to, does not mean you're entitled to causing emotional pain to punish me. I am not your mother, Izuku."

The words were harsh, but they were the words that got him to think. They were the words that got his poker-face to break. He did not seem to realize the pattern of his own subconscious behavior.

"You haven't noticed?" She asked. "You subconsciously desire people who've let you down or treated you badly to feel the same pain you felt when the shoe was on the other foot, and it is clear as day. I'm not going to sit here and preach ethics or morality or right or wrong, but I know practicality. And I can tell you that being passive-aggressive about past resentments is the most impractical way to get over them."

"I'm… passive-aggressive?"

"You're not perfect, Izuku. I understand that life wasn't easy for you before you got your quirk, but letting the pain of your past hold the wheels of your present and set the course of your future is bound to end terribly."

She rose from her seat. "You are a brilliant, amazing person, Midoriya Izuku. Men of your caliber are one in a million, but your age and adaptability is what makes you one in a billion. Don't throw away great opportunities out of spite or ruin relationships out of an inability to get over your childhood traumas."

She shuffled her way out of the seats.

"Once you've gotten over your resentment for me, give me a call. My number is always open for you. Until then, have a good day, and enjoy your studies at UA."

She departed without letting him get a word in edge-wise. Midoriya was a diamond, yes, but Saiko had her standards. No diamond, no matter how valuable, would ever have her groveling for it. That was what he wanted from her, to see her beg for his presence in her life. Midoriya was person starved of affection and acceptance as a child, and he sought it in spades as he continued to grow, perhaps without even realizing he did.

If Midoriya wished to act like a child, she was not entitled to indulge him. Not when she had her own goals to think of. Not when her life was already on the line, the more she learned about 'the One.'

Midoriya was the protagonist of his own life story, but Saiko was not going to put his goals above hers merely to become a supporting character in it.

Intelli Saiko was her own person, and no one would ever make her feel otherwise.


XXXXXX


That went… horribly.

Izuku grimaced from Saiko's departure. Something stung. An uneasy feeling settled in his chest, in his gut. What was I thinking?

The worst part of Saiko's outburst hadn't been the accusations. The worst part, was knowing, understanding, that she'd been right. Some part of him wanted to see anger and indignation in her eyes. He'd wanted her to regret that decision. He didn't want to cause her pain – no – he couldn't do that. He just… he wanted her to feel the sting of rejection.

He wanted her to feel just as he had.

I want people who've treated me badly to suffer?

He pressed his lips tightly together. Was that true of him? What did that say, of him? Was his desire to bring an end to quirks just another extension of his own anger and frustration and childhood traumas?

Was his campaign biased? Were all his goals skewed through the lens of resentment?

He didn't know. He couldn't know. Saiko was the only person who he'd run his ideas by, because Kacchan would immediately shut it down, it would be beyond his scope of his mother's understanding, and Izuku had no other friends who'd have the intellectual prowess needed to debate with him the merits, right or wrongs of his actions. Who would tell him when he was straying too far down the wrong path?

Saiko would.

Saiko was capable of doing so. More so, she would know better, and she would tell him, because she was an objective person who didn't cater much to people's feelings. She would tell him the truth, blunt and unfiltered, and go as far as to say the things that he didn't want to hear, if she believed he needed to hear them.

And you just tried to push her away… great going, Izuku.

It'd been a while since he felt like an idiot.

"H-hey there," A girl approached him. He noticed it was one of the baristas. "I-I noticed the argument you had with your girlfriend. I, um, just wanted to check if everything was okay?"

Izuku gave her a well-practiced smile. "She wasn't my girlfriend, and, yes, everything is fine. Thank you."

"Oh, that's good." She cleared her throat. "So, uh, can I get you something… ah, a cup of coffee, water… or I could keep you company if you'd like?"

Izuku's brow furrowed. "Keep me company?"

"It's almost the end of my shift, so, I figured, what's the harm, right?"

Izuku scrutinized the girl closely. Is she… flirting with me? She looked older than him. At least, three, maybe four or five years older. Eighteen at the very least. Does she know? Did she not realize the age difference, or did she not care?

"So… she wasn't your girlfriend, but you guys were arguing." The barista slid into the seat opposite him. "She's a bit of a weird one, though. She acts haughty and high-and-mighty, but I see her occasionally sitting in the corner by herself, reading adult manga without a care in the world. I mean, with that attitude… it's no wonder she's alone, right?"

Izuku's smile became strained. "Excuse me?"

"I'm just saying… she's not all that, you know?"

"What if I said she's my sister?"

"Oh." The barista made an oop sound with her mouth. "I mean you two don't look anything alike –"

"Different fathers." Izuku never let his smile drop. "Go on, barista-san. Tell me about how she's high and mighty, and not all that."

"I didn't mean–"

"Her name is Saiko," Izuku said. "Say it."

"W-what?"

Izuku glared. He deepened his voice. "Say. Her. Name."

"S-Saiko?"

"Yes, Barista-san." He breathed out, letting his voice return to normal. "That is the name of a person who wouldn't be so impolite as to speak bad about a stranger to impress another stranger. The name of someone who is nine times the person you will ever be, Barista-san, and someone who has more greatness in a finger, than you will find in the combined might of your genealogy."

Izuku never let his smile drop.

"Now, could you kindly leave my sight, Barista-san? I do not wish to vomit in my mouth a second time."

The Barista fled, teary-eyed and sobbing. It immediately drew the attention of most people in the café, causing Izuku to press his fingers to his forehead, and take in deep breaths. The people were still staring, and Izuku never let his smile drop.

"Would you all prefer to take a picture? Or do you all just not understand how rude it is to stare?"

They diverted their gazes immediately, having being called out. Izuku's chest felt hot. His throat felt hotter. His lungs were almost burning. Something primal stirred within his guts, almost asking to emerge in a fiery torrent of cutting remarks from his lips.

Deep breaths Izuku, deep breaths.

That was unlike him. He'd never been that rude to anyone in his entire life. He'd never made anyone cry like that in his entire life.

But… it felt a bit good?

No. No.

No. It didn't. No absolutely not.

He bit his lip.

Well… just a little.

Putting others down didn't make him a good person. Except, he wasn't really putting anyone down, he was just standing up for someone else. Standing up for Saiko. Standing up for himself, and setting clear standards.

If he didn't set clear standards, if he didn't put clear boundaries of what he could and couldn't stomach –

He'd end up getting used. Again. And Again. And again.

I'm overthinking this.

Maybe it was the stress getting to him. The knowledge that someone tried to kill him, three times, while he'd been taking the UA exams. The overwhelming weight of his plans to change the world. The perfect image he needed to cultivate in UA to do it. Perhaps it was his growing irritation with the constant bids for romantic affection from women he didn't know or care about.

Or maybe, it was just that he couldn't stand idea of some random woman bad-mouthing Saiko simply because they wanted to flirt with him – a woman older than him no less.

Or maybe it was all of these things combined.

I need to make things right with Saiko.

He needed to do that.

And at the same time, he also had a laundry list of responsibilities he needed to attend to.

It was never easy, being Midoriya Izuku.


XXXXX


The apartment he rented out was located in the Musutafu District. It wasn't necessarily high-end, because Midoriya's income was derived from selling drawn pornography of famous female heroines, which was something he was getting increasingly uncomfortable doing. The ethics of it didn't bother him as much as it should have, and that bothered him more than it should have.

The apartment complex was infamous for being hired out by NEETs and hikkikomori. Most people minded their business, stayed in their own apartments, and the place was known on the map for receiving a high number of deliveries. Climbing up the stairs, Izuku noted that there were boxes kept in front of several of the rooms, and he spotted one or two pizza delivery agents, impatiently waiting for their customers to open their doors.

His destination was on the top floor, the floor which had the lowest number of applicants because the building's elevator didn't work, and many people weren't quite fond of stairs. Ascending the six floors needed to reach the top wasn't even considered a workout to Izuku, because his daily morning exercise routines with Kacchan were far more taxing altogether. Even doing so with a large cooler wasn't much of a challenge, and for that reason, he brought along two.

He reached his destination, Room 704, and took a deep breath.

Reaching into his pockets, he searched for his key. He pushed the key into the lock, clicking and turning it until it opened.

Swinging open the door, caused it to jam on something on the other side. Izuku grunted. He pushed harder, forcing the door to swing open.

The first thing he smelled was copper. The apartment reeked of copper. The place was, unsurprisingly, messy. Discarded pizza boxes lay on the floor along with numerous, empty polythene bags. Plates piled up in the sink, rotten fruit lay atop the overfilled trash can, and there were ripped out paper sheets everywhere.

The TV in the living room was switched unto a nature documentary channel. On it, a gazelle ran across the dusty savannah, a cheetah hot on its heels. On the couch, a blonde girl slumbered in a T-shirt - his T-shirt – and her underwear.

Izuku took one glance at the messy apartment, and his hands began to itch.

Messy. So messy. Oh my god. Can't… I can't.

He came prepared. He swung his backpack, unzipped it and emerged two yellow rubber gloves and a facemask. A bottle of bleach, antiseptic, liquid soap and three large trash bag came after. His body began moving on instinct.

Clean. Discard. Clean. Discard. Recyclable? Yes.

The entire process took him under half an hour. There was nothing in the room that gave him cause for concern, except everything in the room that pointed to a great cause for concern. Neglecting chores and personal hygiene was often a trait shown in individuals suffering from depression. The idea that she was such a person both disturbed him and haunted him. He wanted to believe it was simply that she was a naturally messy person. It would be easier for his conscience if he believed she was simply a naturally messy person.

She's surprisingly a deep sleeper…

He'd cleared out the apartment, swept away most of the trash into bags and mopped the room, and she'd slept through it all. He hadn't taken her for a heavy sleeper. But…it's not like I ever tried to learn anything about her before using her as my guinea pig.

Things had worked out for the better, all things considered. Her quirk was significantly powerful, and he got what he wanted by improving the trigger drug… but things could also have gone significantly for the worse. He could have caused her great pain, mutated her beyond repair, or outright caused her death.

Midoriya breathed out. He stood over the sleeping girl, who'd sprayed herself over the couch.

"Himiko."

She didn't respond. Izuku's brows rose.

"Himiko?"

Lightly, he tapped her arm. Again, she didn't respond.

"Himiko. Himiko, wake up."

He nudged her, and still nothing. Izuku's heart started racing.

"Himiko? Himiko!"

Nothing.

No. No – no – no – nononononono –

No. The tests had been perfect. There'd been no drawbacks from the improved Trigger. There hadn't –

He grabbed her arm and checked for a pulse.

No –

He pounded his fists on her chest.

"HIMIKO!"

"GAH!"

The girl jerked up, crossing her hands over her chest. She snarled. "Who –" She blinked twice upon seeing him. Her face contorted into an inappropriate expression. "I~Zu~ku-kun!"

"Oh my god, Himiko."

He threw his hands around her. He felt her stiffen in his arms.

"I thought – for a minute – I thought you were –" I thought you were dead. He didn't dare say the words. He couldn't say it.

Her arms went around his back. "Was Izuku-kun worried?"

"Of course I was!" he snapped. "I called your name and you didn't answer! I checked your pulse and –"

"I've always had a weak pulse," she purred into his ears. "But… Izuku-kun… I didn't think you cared about me so much."

It was his turn to stiffen. I don't – I mean – if you died –

"It's not like I want you to –"

"Hey, Izuku-kun."

She embraced him closer. Held him tighter. It only then registered in Izuku's mind that she was hugging him. Hugging him tightly. She smelt of blood and copper and cheap perfume, was dressed in a plain t-shirt and underwear, but there was an overwhelming innocence in the way she hugged him.

"Izuku-kun is warm," she hummed. "So warm."

"Why didn't you wake up when I called you?"

"Hm? Was… tired. Using my quirk for long… makes me really tired, Izuku-kun. Tired and really, really sleepy."

Using her quirk made her tired? Izuku's brain began connecting dots. That never happened before.

Of course. It made sense. Quirks were still biological, and no matter how much he was able to upgrade them, the biological factors were still a limit. Himiko's quirk was more powerful now, and as such it demanded more energy than it previously did. Feeling her against him, Izuku couldn't tell that she was any thinner. Running his hand down her back, he couldn't see any major differences. No, if anything –

"Himiko… when was the last time you ate?"

"Hmm… yesterday morning."

"You drank only blood didn't you?"

She nuzzled her head into his neck. "Izuku-kun is the tastiest."

Izuku sighed. "Himiko, you can't subsist on just blood anymore. I enrich my blood with nutrients but it seems like it only goes so far. You need to eat Himiko. Food. Real food."

"I want to eat… Izuku-kun."

She pushed him unto the couch, and her hands snuck up his shirt. Izuku hissed. They were cold. Really cold. No, now that he noticed it, it wasn't just her hands that were cold. She was cold. Abnormally so. Is this… a side-effect of Trigger?

Wait a minute –

"Himiko, can you please take off your top."

She blinked as though she hadn't comprehended the request. Her face contorted into her unique smile upon then. "You're being bold today I~Zu~Ku!"

It wasn't about being bold or not being bold. She took off her shirt, and she was, unsurprisingly wearing nothing underneath. Izuku's eyes scanned her body. He scanned her, and more so, he did a mental cross-reference with the last time he'd seen her.

"Have… have you been working out?"

No, his brain answered before he did. Judging by the state of the apartment and Himiko's personality, she most likely was not the person who'd spend numerous hours exercising for the sake of it. That aside, exercise couldn't magically increase the size and perfect the shape of one's breasts -

Perfect?

His eyes glossed over them again. He measured length and breadth, radius and diameter. Then, his gaze went down, to her stomach. Her extremely well-toned stomach with a circumference that was less than twenty-four inches.

"I-Izuku-kun is staring~" She breathed.

He grabbed her softly by the neck, and brought her face until it was centimeters away from his. He ignored her dumbfounded expression and rapidly reddening face in lieu of examining her facial symmetry for differences.

This isn't good.

There were differences. Minute, but ultimately identifiable. The softness of her skin mimicked his, her brows were perfectly aligned and her eyelashes long and of the exact same number and length on both eyes.

In most women, the left breast was typically larger than the right, due to the placement of the heart on that side and the need for extra flesh for protection. Humans weren't bilaterally symmetrical. There was always a small difference from one side to the other: the heart is slightly to the left, the liver on the right side, spleen on the left, and on and on.

It was something less obvious on the outside of the body, but his eyes could still perceive it. Most people had one eye slightly higher than the other, one arm slightly stronger than the other, a favored leg, a favored ear even –

The one person Izuku knew of who had a completely symmetrical body structure was himself.

And it seemed Himiko was developing one as well.

This isn't good.

Himiko consumed liters of his blood, and for the most part, Izuku had thought nothing of it. That was his mistake. His blood was doing more than just sating her hunger. His quirk was in his blood, and it was doing to Himiko what it did to him. It was making her 'precise.' Not just on the outside, but no doubt it would be doing the same on the inside.

Himiko's cold palms cupped his cheeks.

"You're thinking something unimportant right now." She sounded annoyed. "Focus. Me."

"Ah –"

"You made a promise to me, Izuku-kun." She said. "That you'd tell me the bitch who hurt you."

Izuku grimaced. "About that…"

"You promised."

There was no mirth in her eyes. No amusement. No flirtatious appeal. Himiko Toga's voice was devoid of humor. Something told Izuku that things would not end well if he reneged on his word. He didn't know what it was, but he just knew.

"She was a girl, from my school. It wasn't forced. She lied about me being responsible for something and having to take responsibility and… and I was panicking and I didn't really know what else to do but…" Izuku closed his eyes. "I felt used. It sounds stupid. It hurt. And… and I'm a hypocrite. I'm a hypocrite, talking about how I felt used by someone after all I've –"

"Where does the bitch live?"

"Himiko –"

"Where, Izuku?"

"She left Japan. You can't go after her."

"I can if I use my quirk."

Izuku couldn't help the laugh that came. "Himiko – no. It isn't worth it." He exhaled. "But… thank you."

"Hey, Izuku-kun."

"Yes, Himiko?"

"I don't hate you."

Izuku went rigid.

"I don't hate you, Izuku-kun."

"…you should."

"You're stupid, sometimes, Izuku-kun." She pressed down on him. "Izuku-kun wants to help people. People like me. But you can't do it alone. You can't become the hero, without being the villain."

"Himiko –"

"I don't care about other people's suffering like you do, Izuku-kun. I just want to be myself."

Her cold hands cupped his cheeks again.

"And I want you to stop pitying me, Izuku-kun."

His throat was dry.

"I should be homeless. But you, Izuku-kun, gave me a place to stay. I should be hungry. But you, Izuku-kun, feed me. I should be lonely. But you, Izuku-kun, care for me. I should be poor. But you, Izuku-kun give me money."

Her breath tickled his neck.

"Izuku-kun, can't you see? You're not the one using me. I'm the one using you." She smiled at him. "I was always free to leave, Izuku-kun. You never even tried to keep me chained. I was always free to run anywhere, go anywhere. But I didn't."

"Why didn't you?"

"I have a recurring dream, Izuku-kun." Her grin returned. "In it, I'd die, and people would be at my funeral, and they would be relieved. They would be glad that they wouldn't have to see me, or put up with me. My mom wouldn't have to hide me from her friends. My dad wouldn't have to pretend I wasn't his daughter. They wouldn't have to put up polite smiles anymore. They wouldn't have to apologize for everything I did, anymore. For years, Izuku-kun, I had this dream."

Her grin slowly faded.

"But I spent time with you… and you were the first person in the world, who I knew, would be sad, and pained, and hurt… if I were to die. So when I had the dream again, something changed, Izuku-kun. You were there, at my funeral. And you were sad. So sad, Izuku-kun. You were the only one, sad, and crying."

Her eyes pierced his. "So I felt, no matter what happened, no matter what you did to me, I'd either live… or I'd have someone who'd miss me when I'm gone."

Izuku felt something on his face. He didn't know what it was. He didn't understand why it was getting harder to see clearly.

"Himiko –"

Himiko's fingers pressed against his lips.

"Izuku-kun… I'm going to be selfish… will you let me… please?"

Please. He'd never heard her use that word before. He'd never heard her ask, before. He didn't have it in him to refuse.

Her lips were soft. Softer than they should have been. Softer than they had any right to be. She tasted of copper and blood and morning breath, but Izuku couldn't find it in him to complain. Her tongue was gentle, her embrace, soft and innocent.

Their lips disconnected, and a shudder escaped from hers.

"I love you, Izuku-kun."

For the first time, Izuku realized…

Himiko Toga believed it.


XXXXXX


M: Hey, I'm really sorry about this, but could we reschedule our planned date? Something came up and I'm totally swamped.

T: Oh. That's cool! I totally get it, stuff happens all the time!

T: By the way, congratulations on getting the top place in the entrance exams! Good looking and smart? Damn Midoriya, you'll have to be beating off the ladies with a stick at this rate. But you'll never get me – cause no one gets Vanishing Toru! Hahahaha!

T: I just realized you can, actually, get me, because you can actually see me. My one weakness, a boy with good eyes!

M: Thanks for understanding. I promise I'll make it up to you.

T: I'll hold you to that promise! See you in school!

She dropped the phone beside her bed, and stared idly at the ceiling. She ignored the burning feeling in her chest and the lump lodged in her throat.

It wasn't like she was that interested in the date anyway. Sure, Midoriya was cool, and good-looking, and more importantly he was probably one of the only few people in the world who could see her –

It wasn't as though she didn't have a long line of suitors knocking on her front door. She was Toru damn it! Of course she did! Even if the vast majority of them were simply people with a floating-clothes fetish, what did it matter? It wasn't like she'd lived her whole life getting used to being ignored and unseen and thus had to make a habit of being loud and flamboyant to be remembered…

People always said beauty was only skin deep and they loved someone for what was on the inside, didn't they? So, who cared if that saying was bullshit and most of the guys she'd liked never gave her the attention of day because they wanted to be sure the girl on their arm was actually good-looking?

Who cared?

Toru didn't, that's for sure.

Being invisible all the time was bloody awesome! No need to worry about zits, or make-up, or bad hair days… and she'd go to school with bed-head sometimes and no one ever noticed!

That's right!

Who cared about some silly date with the first person in the world to actually tell her she looked beautiful and really mean it?

Who cared, right?

Right?

…who cared.


XXXXX


"…You what?!"

"Oi, keep it down Kurogiri. Can't you see I'm playing Heroes Smash here?"

"Shigaraki-sama, this is no joking matter. Planting a spy into UA when the Principal is there –"

"See, that's the thing, Kurogiri. They aren't a spy."

"But you said –"

"They haven't done a face-heel turn yet. They're not the mole, cause they don't even know they're the mole. Give them a while to cross the event horizon, and then they'll be our spy. The Principal likes to play the 'set-them-on-the-right-path' card, and being the good guys means they've got to at least try, otherwise they aren't the good guys."

"Is this more video game terminology?"

"Games? No, Kurogiri. I'm talking tropes now. Do you even partake in pop culture?"

"No, Shigaraki-sama, some of us have actual work to do. Work which you instructed."

"Relax Kurogiri. I waved my hand and tossed seeds everywhere. Some are gonna germinate, others aren't. Besides, sensei's too busy playing Dr. Frankenstein to care anyway. So, while he does that, I'm gonna play Villain Idle Clicker."

Shigaraki Tomura yawned loudly.

"But, the goodie-two-shoes are gonna be starting school soon... better see if we've got any chosen ones."

He pressed some buttons on his gamepad. The game screen changed, from hero characters to tiny sprites, each one with a different name, number and level.

"Hm… what's up with this kid? Who let the cheat character in?"

"Cheat?"

"Yeah. Totally broken. Kid has to be using hacks. Speed and technique are off the charts, dexterity's in the triple digits. Strength is pretty low, but no stamina limit? Oi. Is this one of sensei's pet projects?"

"No… not that I'm aware of."

"Huh. Weird. Quirks like these sound like sensei's work. He's got no sense of fair-play. Always turning on God Mode even to take care of mobs."

Shigaraki flicked the analog stick on his controller.

"Ugh. Next best is edgelord blast-face. Get a look at this guy, Kurogiri. He practically screams 'MC's rival.'"

"Shigaraki-sama, how did you get access to UA's accepted applicant list?"

Shigaraki snorted. "That's what you're focusing on? Come on, Kurogiri. Keep up. They ship out personalized messages to every student to let 'em know who fails and who passes. Not hard to hijack one."

"Where is it?"

"Where's what?"

"The message?"

"I didn't hijack the fucking box itself Kurogiri, that's dumb. The blasted things come with wireless tracking and can access the internet to make sure it gets delivered to the right address. Hijacking one is a surefire way to spawn heroes at your doorstep."

He rose his controller.

"I hijacked the info through the kid I was thrashing just now at Smash. Little horny runt keeps using tanned-bunny-tits as his main and never shuts up about her. Mirko this, Mirko that. Made it easy as hell to guess his password. His older brother is another horny runt, but a useful horny runt who took the exam and got the box. Was able to connect to the thing from there and leech off the info."

"And… this won't be detected?"

"The heroes won't suspect a thing because it'll read that the only connection which got to it was from the house of the brat they sent it to." Shigaraki shrugged. "But the Principal is a different case entirely. I don't have sensei's bullshit anti-Chessmaster quirk so there's nothing I can do to stop him from figuring out that someone got the info."

"And how exactly, isn't this bad for us?"

"Even if he knows someone got the info, he can't do anything about it. He's like a DM in a campaign trying to railroad players who're only there to troll and metagame. No matter what he does, shit isn't going to go his way and he knows it. Best he can do is stop things from going our way, or stop it from hitting the fan at a million miles per second."

Shigaraki flicked the analog again.

"Ah, if it isn't Edgegar Allan Poe junior. Wasn't nevermore-boy here in our last party?"

"…He was."

"See what I mean by seeds, Kurogiri?"

Kurogiri did. He regarded his charge again, as if seeing him for the very first time. Shigaraki-sama... you're actually…

"Ah let's see, who else is there?" He flicked the analog further. "Bad hair-day, frogger, tentacle-boy, iron-face, hard-face, zero grav-tiddies, engine-legs, sexual harassment junior, shock-and-dumb, umbilical-lightsaber, pink-pornstar, you-can't-see-me and elbow-duct tape? Pft. Really? What's with these garbage characters?"

He checked his list further.

"Oh, oh, oh. Finally, the top guys. From the recs list… Big-titty-ojou-san, restore-my-honor and air-head-hot-shot."

Kurogiri stared. "Isn't that –"

"The emo runt of the Domestic Abuse hero?" Shigaraki's lips thinned. "Yeah, that's him."

"No, not him. The girl."

"Big titty ojou-san?" Shigaraki frowned. "Didn't think you had a type Kurogiri. Wait, now that I think about it, do you even have a –"

"Shigaraki-sama, I will not be letting you finish that question."

"Geez, fine. I get curious, you know."

"That girl. That surname. Isn't that related to…?"

"Surname? Let's see…" Shigaraki switched tabs, opening the browser instead. "…Holy shit. They're actually sending their kid to a hero school? What do they think they're doing?"

"Perhaps it was the girl's decision?"

"And what, her uber-rich, platinum spoon-fed highborn parents just folded their arms and let their only kid risk her life and her uber-high-value quirk as a slightly overpaid civil servant?" Shigaraki snorted. "Either little miss ara ara has got mommy and daddy twirled around her finger, or they don't give a shit about her. Can't say which is worse."

"Are you going to do something about it?"

"I don't have to," Shigaraki said. "Those trigger finger B-Villains are likely gonna do something. Or maybe sensei's fanclub will do something first. These brats are hot cakes Kurogiri, and there's not enough of them to go round."

"So… what are you going to do, Shigaraki-sama?"

"Didn't I tell you? I'm playing Villain Idle Clicker." He yawned again. "I'm not a fucking Mid-Boss Kurogiri. Sensei's the Big Bad, and I'm his student. Guess that makes me the Small Bad. But that sounds shitty, so I'm not gonna use it. Point is – there's too many grubby hands rushing at the pot right now. You don't fuck a girl everyone else is trying to fuck, Kurogiri. You wait to see if she either turns 'em all down, or fucks 'em all. And if she fucks 'em all… then fuck her."

"I… don't believe I quite follow."

"You don't need to. You're my Lieutenant, Kurogiri. My Dragon. Your job is to be loyal, to be strong, to handle the small fry, to let me bounce off ideas and give exposition to the heroes." Shigaraki paused. "Wait, scratch that last one off. No giving exposition to the heroes. If I ever start mouthing off my plans like a C-List Villain, create a portal under my feet and dump me in the bloody pacific."

"If you insist, Shigaraki-sama."

"I do." Shigaraki cracked his knuckles. "Now, where was I? That's right – making a ten-year-old cry by showing him he's absolute shit at Smash. Fucking Mirko mains. If you're gonna be horny at least main Ryukyu. Higher over-all stats, point-zero-two faster attack frames, and smaller hitbox. Pft. This is why you don't play with noobs, Kurogiri. Never play with noobs."