A/N- thank you to everyone who has read, followed or reviewed this story so far, you mean the world to me. To Heracelio: you seem like a clever person, I'm sure you'll work out what's up ;). To Fredgie: I don't think I'm a good enough writer to get away with giving a protagonist the phoenix force, it's too OP.

"Izuku Midoriya. Congratulations on finally manifesting your quirk." Sir Nighteye's tone was chipper as he walked into the garden, sunlight glinting from his glasses. He hadn't ever really worn a costume like most pro-heroes, so his sillhouette was the same even in retirement.

How long had Nighteye been watching? And why had he come? Midoriya squinted up at the tall man, his slender frame blocking the sun.

"Blanket?" Nighteye held out what looked like a silver reflective blanket, like the ones used for people in shock.

Numbly, Midoriya accepted. The flames had faded, but his skin still felt as if it was burning, his tongue thick in his mouth. "The- the man." he managed.

Nighteye seemed to understand. "I called the police in to arrest the man who stabbed you. And asked them to refer the woman to a domestic violence service. Oh-" he held out a bottle of water. "And this."

Of course Sir Nighteye would be perfectly prepared. He was the Foresight Hero, after all. Or he had been. Why had he retired? Midoriya took the water and drank, the cold liquid heavenly on his parched tongue. "I'm not cold," he said, once he could speak again.

"Yes, but I don't want you facing a public indecency charge," said Nighteye, casting an eye over Midoriya. "The police will be here soon."

Blushing, Midoriya covered his shame, and Nighteye grinned to himself.

"You saw this. You saw my death." Midoriya stared at Nighteye. "You let that man kill me."

"I did," said Nighteye, turning to examine the plaque. After a second or so, he took a container from his pocket and held it under the edge of the plaque, where Midoriya's blood was still dripping. "Would you rather I hadn't?"

"It hurt! I died!"

"First manifestations of quirks can be traumatic, believe me, I know," said Nighteye, screwing a cap onto the container and putting it in his briefcase. "But wouldn't you rather have one?"

"You could have told me what you saw!" Midoriya hugged the reflective blanket around himself.

"That never helps with this sort of thing," said Nighteye, with a shake of his head. "Any change had the potential to make the situation worse, and besides-" he pushed his glasses up to the bridge of his nose. "No-one was harmed."

Midoriya found he strongly disagreed with whatever Nighteye's definition of "harmed" was, but his feeling was quickly overtaken by gratitude as sirens wailed nearby and the police arrived. Nighteye's demeanour shifted, and he was suddenly cold, stiff and official as he put a protective hand on Midoriya's bare shoulder and turned to the officers. The police seemed almost sheepish as Nighteye talked to them.

"This man is registered Quirkless. He's never been to quirk counselling, and there are no records of him having used a Quirk at any point. Besides which, if you watch the security footage, you will clearly see that he was acting in self defense."

The officer frowned. "That might be so, but we would still like to take this man in for questioning. And to make a statement."

"I will come with him, then," said Nighteye, and none of the police seemed to object. The benefit of being a pro- or a former pro- in Nighteye's case.

"My quirk-" said Midoriya, once they were in the back of the police car together. He swallowed, collecting his memories of the last few minutes. The fight. He'd been sure he was going to die. He'd felt himself slipping away, and then burning. "What is my quirk, exactly?"

Nighteye tilted his head. "I have my suspicions," he said. "But right now I only know as much as you." He looked away, out the window as rebuilt Kamino sped past. The new shopping district was busy with people on their lunch break. "I want to see the security footage, to be sure."

"To be sure of what?"

"That you really came back from the dead," said Nighteye.

The police interviews and statements took hours, sat in uncomfortable chairs in a stale-smelling waiting room. Crime in the city was higher than ever, and an assault with apparently zero casualties seemed to be a low priority for the force. Nighteye, who many of the police seemed to recognise, left at one point to get Midoriya some clothes, returning with underwear, slacks and a t-shirt in a branded shopping bag, the labels still in them. Underneath them in the bag was a pair of new trainers, still in the box. Midoriya thought at first that Nighteye had made a mistake and bought a size too large, but when he put them on they fit perfectly, and he was filled once more with respect for the former pro's observational skills. After a little pressing on the part of Nighteye, the police also returned to him the jacket he'd dropped when he'd tackled the man, complete with his phone and wallet.

The police seemed reluctant to show them the footage of the fight, and Midoriya heard Nighteye in a growled discussion with the detective on their case as someone took Midoriya aside for a physical examination. He caught the words superior and consultant hissed between the two men. After prodding him a few times and taking his blood pressure, the medic pronounced him healthy and Nighteye was waiting for him with an SD card between his fingers.

"You want to see?" Nighteye asked.

Mutely, Midoriya nodded, and followed the retired pro through the station into the police AV room.

A few seconds of technical fiddling and the television screen flickered to life. Midoriya's throat felt tight as he saw the scene. Camera one was mounted on the side of the tower, camera two on the trunk of one of the cherry trees. Nighteye flicked through the frames, impatient, and Midoriya caught a glimpse of Todoroki's ice pillar, distorting the view on camera one before it flickered away. A pair of Liberation evangelists walked in lockstep through the garden on their way to somewhere else, and the blade quirk man and his girlfriend entered the garden, the girl holding the man's arm.

Nighteye slowed the footage down to normal speed for the fight, and Midoriya watched it, wincing in sympathy with his past self as he took each hit. The Midoriya in the video looked like a wreck, gaping wounds in both his legs, nasty gashes on his forearm, and a hole in his chest that gushed blood, his assailant stumbling away.

That was where he had died. Midoriya's breath caught in his throat as he saw what happened afterwards. The man scrambled away from him as his body caught fire. The flame quickened and surged, soon so bright that it overexposed the sensors on each of the cameras, appearing as a white mark on the screen, the corona tinged red-orange. A pillar of flame.

"There-" said Midoriya, and Nighteye paused. Midoriya stared at the image of himself, his eyes glowing so brightly that the camera saw them as white blocks on his face. He was standing where his body had been lying, and the last of the fire rose from his shoulders in two tall streams. The stab wounds on his legs and chest were gone.

"I healed," he said, his brain running too fast to put one thought in front of another. He had a quirk. An actual quirk. "Can you play it again?"

"From your death?"

"From the fire." Midoriya paused, frowning. "Why are you so willing to believe I really died?"

Nighteye didn't look at him, but smiled to himself as he set the footage back to the start of the fire, from the second camera this time. "I had a look at your records after our meeting this morning. If merely being beaten unconscious could trigger your quirk, you would know about it by now. You're an interesting man, Izuku Midoriya."

"Oh." Midoriya blushed. "Thanks, Sir Nighteye."

"Sasaki," Nighteye corrected him, though not sharply. He clicked his tongue against his teeth as the footage played through, the fire too bright to see Midoriya's body after it fell. "I'm pretty sure your quirk is unique," he said, as the flames on the screen died to reveal Midoriya's muscled back. "I've heard of healing quirks before, but I've never seen someone come back from the dead. What will you call it?"

Midoriya blinked, his brain brought momentarily out of its loop of I have a quirk. "I get to name it?"

"You're the first known wielder, and you're not a minor," said Nighteye. "I don't see why not. You should name it now, before the media does it for you."

Midoriya mused on it. Rebirth seemed trite. Resurrection had religious overtones somehow. He shook his head. "Let them," he said, with a small shrug. "I've always been terrible at naming things."

Nighteye left him with a promise to contact him when he knew more, and Midoriya headed home. On the train back to Akuto he scanned his phone for any news of the events in the memorial garden, but the news was full of Permafrost stopping an emitter type villain from attacking a government building in Rishimaze, and the liberation army taking credit for the attack. Midoriya took a deep breath and put the phone back in his pocket. It seemed like every week now there was something like that on the news. He wondered if Todoroki had managed to save everyone.

He had a quirk. He had a quirk. His childhood doctor had been wrong, and all that it had taken was Midoriya dying to prove it. He'd died. And he was okay. He'd nearly been arrested. But that had turned out fine. He'd lost his job. But he was going to be okay. With a knot in his stomach, Midoriya remebered the envelope that he'd abandoned on the side that morning, and the thin form inside it. Midoriya hung from the handhold on the rush-hour train as the day's events caught up with him, wishing that he'd claimed a seat for himself. He didn't even know how his quirk worked. Would he only come back from violent death? What if he starved? Or froze? Or died of old age? Was it just a one-time thing? Had he already used it up? It wasn't as if he could test it.

Finally, he stumbled out onto the platform at Akuto, the night air cold after the press of bodies on the train. He needed to talk to someone. Todoroki had offered to talk if he needed it, but the man was a pro hero. He'd have better things to do than talk to some lame guy about his late quirk manifestation.

He looked at his mom's entry in his phone's address book. It would be out of service by now, of course it would be, but he hadn't deleted it. Even if he did, he suspected the number would stay etched onto his heart.

And then there was Fumiko. His wife, still his wife, until he signed the forms she'd sent and mailed them back to the court. Midoriya didn't know for sure, but probably last thing she'd want was to hear him talk about his dreams again.

With a sigh, Midoriya punched in the number Todoroki had given him. He'd send a message, rather than calling. That way Todoroki wouldn't be put on the spot.

Hey. It's Midoriya. From the Sparkling Agency. And the tower earlier.

Midoriya agonized over the message before hitting send, and started the walk from the station to his apartment. He was surprised when his phone buzzed in his pocket.

oh hey

Midoriya stared at the reply. A second line of text joined it.

what's up

Midoriya stopped dead, holding the phone up to his face. He needed to reply quickly, or Todoroki would worry.

It's nothing. It's just I had a really crazy day, and I was wondering if your offer was still good? To talk, I mean.

Midoriya deleted the word crazy and replaced it with eventful several times before finally settling on crazy. Crazy felt about right.

Todoroki's reply was pretty much instant.

sure

Did you want to meet up somewhere? A bar? Midoriya shot back.

There was a pause of several minutes, and Midoriya was worried he'd offended Todoroki somehow. He started writing an apology when Todoroki's reply appeared.

can't leave the house right now

can you come to me?

Midoriya sent an affirmative and plugged in the address Todoroki sent him as a reply. It was in an old part of the city, the sort of neighbourhood that was full of traditional houses rather than apartments or high-rises, and the map showed that it was huge.