A/N- Thank you all as ever for the comments and the follows, I'm honoured that this has caught everyone's interest. I considered having Bakugou test out Midoriya's quirk last chapter, but decided against it- #1 heroes don't kill. Not in cold blood at least.
The heroes' meeting had lasted late into the night, and once everyone had taken their leave, Todoroki had rolled out a futon for Midoriya, insisting he stay over.
He couldn't help but notice the room that Todoroki had picked for him was one of the few in the house not to use traditional panelled walls, instead constructed with steel and what looked like emergency vents on the ceiling. Did the ice hero seriously expect him to die in his sleep? Midoriya lay down on the futon and let his tiredness take him. His body felt strange, the old pains in his shoulders and his knees conspicuously absent, and replaced by something akin to a full body ache. When he closed his eyes he remembered each of his deaths, bleeding out with a knife in his chest, and the abrupt shot to the head. He was stumbling, senses snuffed out. He was falling, jerked back to life and burning. The fire was in him, through his veins and in his throat. The fire rose from his mouth, unfurling in crimson and gold.
Midoriya woke, an ache in his upper back, his bedding mercifully unburnt. But maybe Todoroki hadn't been being entirely irrational when he put Midoriya in a fireproof room.
The group, Todoroki and the rest, had opted to put him in for the provisional license exam in a few week's time. He'd be entering under sponsorship from Uravity's hero agency, under a rarely used statute, intended to allow heroes from outside Japan to qualify for Pro status.
It was like a dream, and not the sort of dream that woke him sweating and gasping for cold air. He would realise his ambition, after all these years. Why did it feel so empty?
Sitting in the back of the Permafrost agency vehicle in yet another set of borrowed clothing, Midoriya wondered if he was still in a coma from his fight in the memorial garden. Or maybe from before that- he'd been beaten pretty badly fighting muggers the other year. It seemed too easy.
He half expected Fumiko to be there when he got in, cooking him some katsudon, but the windows of his apartment were as dark as ever. He thanked the sidekick who had driven him home, a mid-ranker with the hero name of Five Kelvin, and walked up the stairs on the exterior of his apartment building.
He was at his front door when he remembered his key had been melted. As had his phone, and his wallet, all left as slag in a crater in front of Todoroki's house. Midoriya swore under his breath, his hand still on the handle of his door.
"Are you okay?" One of his neighbours, a dark-haired girl- came up the stairs behind him. He recognised her, but they'd never talked beyond exchanging greetings if they passed each other on the way in or out, and she was a university student, so their schedules rarely coincided.
"I'm fine, Miss-" Midoriya scrambled to remember her name from the nameplate outside her door. "Fuchikawa?"
"Fuchigawa." She grinned, her teeth straight and white.
"Yeah, sorry." Midoriya smiled back weakly, rubbing the back of his head. "I seem to have locked myself out."
"I could have a look at it," she offered.
"That's nice, but I'm not sure how it would help." Midoriya rubbed the back of his neck. "I'm fairly sure we don't have the same key."
"This is embarrassing, but I get locked out all the time. So I'm sort of an expert at getting back in." Fuchigawa gave a guilty looking smile, her eyes creasing at the corners. A flush of pink crept up from the pale skin of her neck. "Thankfully these doors aren't too well constructed. Stand back."
"What are you going to do?"
"I won't break anything. I promise." Fuchigawa tilted her head towards him, and Midoriya stepped back, flushing slightly. "Well, maybe a little." She squared off with the door, and lifted her leg, resting the sole of her foot on the door near the handle. She was wearing a skirt, and the movement revealed the creamy skin of her thigh.
Midoriya looked away, coughing slightly. "Are you sure that's necessary?"
"You've gotta hit it just right," Fuchigawa assured him, licking her lips, and with that she drew her leg back and delivered a solid kick to the door. There was a bang as her foot made contact, and sure enough, there was a click as the door mechanism unlocked, leaving the door hanging open. Fuchigawa's face lit up, and she struck a victory pose. "Yish! First time!"
"Thank you," said Midoriya, kneeling to examine his front door. True to her word, Fuchigawa hadn't damaged it that badly, only a small dent where her foot had struck. He'd have to write his landlord about it later. "Our apartments really aren't very secure, are they?"
"Sure aren't!" Fuchigawa grinned again, seating herself on the safety rail opposite Midoriya's door. Her legs swung back and forth. "Just about anyone could break in."
Midoriya found himself admiring how she moved, the easy strength of her legs, and immediately felt guilty. She was a college student, much too young for him, and besides, he had bigger things to worry about. Like how the hell he was going to pass the provisional license exam. He stepped through his door and into his entry hallway. "Maybe I should get a deadbolt," he mused.
"You're not going to invite me in?" Fuchigawa asked, as he was about to close the door behind him.
"I wasn't expecting guests," said Midoriya, truthfully.
"We could share my food," said Fuchigawa, holding up her convenience store bag. Midoriya's stomach rumbled, reminding him that he'd refused Todoroki's offer of breakfast. The only food in his house was two day old meat buns and Kacchan flavoured cereal.
"Alright," said Midoriya, holding his door open for her. She wandered in without hesitation, a smile plastered across her face. "Sorry," he added. Fuchigawa's presence made the unloved, bachelor-like nature of his apartment suddenly very obvious, as if a beam of sunlight had come in, and brought the underside of his particular rock to light. His heavy bag, in particular, hung there like an accusation, its brown surface mottled with wear and sweat, and All Might stared down at the two of them from the walls. "Like I said, I wasn't expecting guests." Midoriya hurried past Fuchigawa, cracking open a window.
"It's okay," Fuchigawa twirled on the ball of her foot, looking at the All Might figure on his counter, next to the brown envelope from Fumiko. "Compared to some of the places I've lived, this is beautiful." She looked up at Midoriya's posters. "You must really like All Might, huh."
"Ah. Yeah."
She sat on the arm of his couch, hugging her legs to her chest. "Why?"
Frowning, Midoriya decided that the safest place to sit was the floor in front of the sofa. "Why do I like All Might?"
Fuchigawa handed him a plastic-wrapped bun from her bag. "Why do you admire him? Is it because he was strong?"
"No, not really." Midoriya winced internally at her use of the past tense. Was. "I guess you're too young to remember him, huh."
She cocked her head. "I'm not that young."
"But the thing about All Might that I admire… it wasn't that he was strong. Or even the strongest. But that he was always there. And smiling. For us." Midoriya closed his eyes, remembering All Might on the roof the day he had met him. His emaciated form, and the blood on his lips. "He always smiled, even when things were hard. That's what a true hero is, I think. Even when he was hurt, or his eyes were full of vinegar, like the vinegar river incident." He looked up, his smile crooked. "Sorry, I'm rambling, aren't I?"
"Not at all!" Fuchigawa pulled two buns from her bag and took a bite of one of them, chewing quickly before she continued. "I think we should get to know our neighbours better. And it's important to know what people value. Bun?" She offered him the other, still wrapped.
"You're a good neighbour, Fuchigawa," said Midoriya, accepting the bun and tearing the plastic open. "If you hadn't helped me, I might still be stuck outside waiting for help."
She smiled shyly at his praise. "Should we use first names?" she asked. "I mean, since we are neighbours."
With a twinge in his gut Midoriya realised there was no-one in the world that he was really on first name terms with anymore, apart from maybe Kacchan. But Kacchan was more likely to call him Deku or Imbecile than actually use his given name. He took a bite of his bun, chewed and swallowed it. It was sweet.
Slowly, he nodded. "I'm Izuku," he said.
"Pleased to meet you, Izuku," Fuchigawa tilted her head, her eyes narrowing as she grinned. "I'm Himiko." She rummaged in her bag and pulled out a tube of crisps. "You want some of these, too?"
Midoriya squinted at the label on the side, cheerful text reading extra salty. "Aren't these meant to be bad for your blood pressure?"
"What are you, an old man?" Himiko laughed to herself. "If you don't want any, just say so."
"No, I want some." Midoriya held out his hand. "Please."
"If you say so." Himiko tipped a few of the stick-shaped potato snacks onto his palm, then paused, staring. "What happened to your hand?"
"Oh." Midoriya closed his scarred hand around the chips, a little self-conscious. "I got in a fight a few years ago. My whole body was pretty badly damaged."
"You're not secretly a spy or something, are you?" Himiko popped a chip delicately into her mouth. "Or a villain," she added.
"Oh, goodness no," said Midoriya, nearly dropping his food. "Never."
"So what are you doing home in the middle of the day on a week day? I thought you worked."
"You're home in the middle of the day too," Midoriya countered, pausing to eat.
"I'm a student. We're on winter break." She leaned backwards, hooking her knees around the arm of the sofa. "What's your excuse, Izuku?"
"I've… had a crazy couple of days," said Midoriya. "I'm sort of at a loose end right now." That was technically correct. Todoroki and the others had told him to keep a low profile until the provisional license exam.
"A man of leisure!" smiled Himiko, and Midoriya found himself smiling back.
"Ah, I guess." Midoriya shook his head, turning his attention back to his food.
"You should come to the gym with me later. We could spar."
Midoriya looked up at Himiko. She was small, much smaller and lighter than him, her bone structure delicate. "I'm not sure if that's a good idea."
"Oh, come on. I spar with my friends all the time."
"I'm a guy. And I'm bigger than you."
"Some of my friends are guys," said Himiko. "And they spar with me."
"Alright." Midoriya rubbed his shoulder. The dull ache from the morning had persisted. "But you're not allowed to complain if I beat you."
"It's a deal." Himiko scooped up the trash from their meal into her convenience store bag. "I'll meet you outside in half an hour, okay?"
Midoriya showered and changed into his gym gear, grabbing the bag with his inside gym shoes from his wardrobe. All of his clothes felt a little uncomfortable after a day in borrowed attire, but he put it down to his newly Rekindled skin. Maybe he should change his laundry detergent.
Himiko was waiting for him on the gantry as she had promised, now dressed in gym gear, her dark hair tied back in twin buns and a water bottle in her hand.
Midoriya closed his door behind him, uneasy at his lack of key. "Maybe I shouldn't leave my apartment like this."
"Why not? It's not like you have anything anyone would want to steal," said Himiko.
Midoriya stood stock still, feeling like she'd just punched the air out of his lungs. What did he have, really? A ten year old TV set, and some memorabilia for a dead hero. "Someone could steal my fridge."
"It's the middle of the day, no-one's going to break into your place." Himiko shook her head. "Real villains would wait until night time."
"I guess you're right." Midoriya gave a sigh, joining her on the stairs.
They walked to the nearby gym, changing their shoes when they were inside. It wasn't a big place, just a warehouse that some enterprising soul had converted into a chain gym, but on a weekday afternoon it was empty save for housewives on the treadmills and old men being naked in the changing rooms.
Midoriya paused to watch the screens in front of the treadmills as they passed. They showed Uravity on her daytime talk show, interviewing a family whose son had been recruited by the liberation army, as a movie star looked on sympathetic from the other couch.
A sign next to the free weight area reminded power type quirk users to please not bend the barbells or damage the building. Midoriya walked with Himiko to the mats, a large area usually used for things like group callisthenics or tai chi. There were mirrors around the edge of the area, and they showed Midoriya and Himiko side by side. Midoriya frowned at his reflection. The hem of his sweatpants hung a little above his ankles. Had they shrunk in the wash?
"Izuku-" Himiko called playfully. "Did you come here to watch yourself in the mirror, or did you come here so I could hurt you?"
"Ah. Sorry." Midoriya watched his reflection run a hand through his hair. "I was just thinking about something."
They circled each other, Midoriya keeping his guard round his midriff, ready to raise to his face. Himiko seemed nice, but girls in general were much too happy to land a low blow on a guy, and Midoriya didn't fancy adding nut-shot onto the catalogue of injuries he'd experienced in the last few days.
Unfortunately, it seemed that he had underestimated Himiko's skill level. Her first punch was faster than his eyes could follow, and left his ears ringing. Midoriya backed off, shaking his head, and Himiko grinned at him wolfishly.
"I told you I do this all the time, right?"
"Yeah." Midoriya frowned, adjusting his stance. "I should've listened to you."
"Again?" she asked, and Midoriya grunted agreement.
Himiko's next flurry of blows- both punches and kicks- was blindingly fast, and even prepared, Midoriya struggled to block, finding himself forced to step back out of range as she attacked, bruising his arms with repeated strikes. A single solid punch from him would end it, he suspected, but he had no desire to hurt his neighbour.
He watched her move, her reflection in the mirror. He couldn't keep up with the speed of her strikes, but he could predict them. Himiko's fist came in again, lightning fast, and Midoriya went for a grab, catching the small girl by the wrist and arm, and throwing her to the mat judo style.
She grinned up at him from the mat. "You're not bad at this."
"Well, I do hold a couple of black belts." Midoriya held out his hand to help her up. It was more like five- he'd started training when he'd been trying to transfer onto UA's hero course. He'd not found one that had compensated for his lack of quirk, or that stopped him getting beaten up when he intervened, but since when had an exercise being futile discouraged him?
"You're holding back!" Himiko's expression shifted to a pout.
"Of course I am." Midoriya took a step back, establishing distance between them again. "We're sparring, not trying to kill one another."
"I suppose." Himiko brushed herself off, stretching. "But even so, you could be trying harder." She leapt into the air, vaulting clean over Midoriya's head and kicking down as she passed.
Midoriya pivoted on the balls of his feet, raising his arms to block her. "You're pretty fast. You don't have a speed quirk, do you?"
"Oh no," Himiko shook her head. "My quirk is this-" she raised her hands and spread her fingers, and Midoriya watched as the whites of her fingernails extended about half an inch before retracting again. "I can grow and shrink my fingernails. It's pretty much useless."
Which meant they should be evenly matched. Midoriya frowned. He'd shown no sign of being able to control flame beyond when Rekindle resurrected his body, so in situations like this, he'd be on equal footing with someone who was quirkless.
He blocked another kick from Himiko, feeling the impact on his arm. He needed an edge, but right now all he had was a blatant disregard for his own life. And, if he was being honest with himself, he'd always fought that way. Had his body known about his quirk, even if he hadn't?
What heroes fought like that? Midoriya rifled through his memories as he pivoted to face Himiko again. Keeping track of her was tricky, even if she didn't have a speed quirk.
There was Red Riot, of course, but he relied on the offensive capabilities granted by his Unbreakable form. Midoriya was just flesh, until he wasn't. He'd be up against teenagers from both UA and Shiketsu, teenagers with top-tier quirks. Would flesh be enough?
Distracted, he failed to raise his guard in time, and Himiko's foot struck his face. Midoriya stumbled, tasting blood.
Himiko dropped her fighting stance, and stared at him, her eyes big. "Are you okay, Izuku?"
Midoriya stuck a finger in his mouth, feeling the damage. Thankfully, none of his teeth felt loose. "Just cut the inside of my cheek, that's all," he said, wiping the blood from his mouth. "It looks worse than it is."
"Okay." Himiko nodded, skipping back. "Another round, then?"