Because some of you have asked; Chapter warnings are being put at the end to avoid spoilers for those without triggers but I can change the placement if anyone needs me to. :)
Sorry yall, I couldn't fit the comfort we all wanted into this chapter. Next one will be more self-indulgent domestic fluff.
CHAPTER 5: Shitty Pipsqueak
Upon closer inspection Katsuki noticed clumps of cacti polyps scattered over Deku's body. Taking in the blood, bruises, and desert plants made him wonder for half a second if he was dreaming. But then the taste of his own blood and the lingering sensation of a weight against his side solidified reality.
"What the fuck are you doing here, shitty Deku?" Katsuki spat, surprise reducing his boiling rage to something barely above a simmer. The panting idiot looked like he didn't know how to answer, his shaking arms still held out like he thought he needed to protect Shitty-hair. Useless little fucker still acting like he's fucking better than me, an angry burst popped in Katsuki's palm, but for some reason the way Deku flinched wasn't as satisfying as it used to be.
"Woah, you two know each other?" Shitty-hair remarked with a confused smile. "You guys even have nicknames for each other! That's so manly! Is he your childhood friend or something, Bakubro?" The more he spoke the brighter and more irritating his smile became. It was as if Katsuki hadn't just been viciously insulting him not five minutes prior.
"Fuck no!"
"A litt–little."
Deku's response ticked him off, but the redirected anger still wasn't the same as it had been before. He rounded on the smaller boy with a snarl, "and what the fuck happened to you?!"
Deku panted like he'd been running for a long time, sweat wetting his temples. The blood from his head wound and nose stained old bandages a ruddy red and there was a bruise blooming across his jaw. Clumps of cacti stuck to his head, shoulders, and Katsuki assumed his back, judging by the look on Shitty-hair's face. His hair stood up on one side, there was a rip in his uniform, and he was covered in dirt. Katsuki's red eyes zeroed in on the way the freckled quirk nerd dropped a hand against his chest. This fucking idiot just didn't know when to quit.
Katsuki clenched his teeth so hard it made his jaw ache. He had hated Deku longer than he'd ever hated anyone. And he hated how fucking obvious it was that his personal parasite was so obviously going out of his way to keep Katsuki away – like he hadn't spent every day since they were brats in diapers following him around. More than anything he hated the disgusting pit growing in his stomach every time he saw the nerd flinch or avoid eye contact with him. Deku was nothing better than an overly dependent shit-stain with a hero complex.
"Oh, Midoriya-chan~" an obnoxious voice cut into the conversation before Deku could reply, "why'd you run, Midoriya-chan?"
The sound of approaching footsteps and jeering laughter made Katsuki turn to face a familiar image. From around a corner three students swaggered into view. At their head was a cocky asshole who's pants hung hilariously low.
"Oh ho? Look at that! Our rat found some friends." Damn, this fucker's voice was annoying. As if that wasn't good enough, the ringleader held up a thick arm, sleeve rolled up to his elbow, and activated his quirk. Red skin buzzed, moving across the limb in a way autonomous from the rest of him.
Mutant type, huh? Katsuki thought, eyeing the bloody scrapes on Deku and noticing Shitty-hair tense.
"Oi, dude, stop! Those guys are from UA," the short, twig-fingered extra on his left hissed.
"Yeah, seriously. We already got what we need." The third, tall with messy hair pulled into a prissy little up-do, said. A Compos notebook was lifted into the air, it's cover torn and pages ripped up. "All we gotta do now is take the evidence to the principal. His creepy ass will finally be expelled for stalking! It'd be bad if UA got involved."
Katsuki met the ringleader's eyes dead-on. They wore the same uniform as Deku. The idea that someone other than him thought they could beat Deku up sent a new territorial anger rushing through him.
"Hey, fellas. I know you guys are probably hero-hopefuls or whatever, so you'll probably already know what the numbers look like, but," Extra One jerked his head in Deku's direction and watched him flinch with a disgusting leer, "Midoriya-kun is quirkless. 75% of quirkless people resort to criminal activity. He's practically a villain alrea- gnnf!"
The feeling of that bastard's face beneath Katsuki's fist was satisfying in a way he probably shouldn't try to articulate for anyone if he really wanted to be hero in the future.
Despite the other extras' initial reluctance, they fought like they meant it. Katsuki was almost swiped by Extra Two's weird fucking claw hands and tripped by Extra Three's elastic arms while he was busy with Extra One before Shitty-hair joined the fray.
"Go the fuck away! I don't need your help!" he barked at his classmate but Shitty-hair just laughed.
"And let you get all the action? No way!" As annoying as he was, the asshole moved like he'd done this shit before.
"Fuck off and die!" Katsuki spat, snagging Extra One by the front of his collar, headbutting him, and then letting lose a low grade explosion that tore a hole through his uniform. When Extra One fell Katsuki kicked him for good measure. His opponent scrambled to his feet with a litany of curses, joining up with Extra Two – who would likely be sporting a nice shiner tomorrow, courtesy of Shitty-hair.
Katsuki started looking for the last member of their circle-jerk. Just before he found Extra Three there was a wet crunch and a wail of pain. His split second of absolute fury abruptly ended when he turned to see the taller student scramble away from Deku.
"Fuck! Fuck! Oh my god, fucking–! Shit! Shit! Fuck! You fucking asshole Deku!"
Katsuki and Shitty-hair watched the rubbery student book it after his fleeing friends with a broken wrist cradled to his chest.
"That's for trying to dump cholla on Nao-kun and Kaoru-san!" Deku shouted over Extra Three's panicked cries.
When everything was quiet again Katsuki glanced over to check on Shitty-hair and found him staring at Deku with stars in his eyes. "Dude. That was so manly. Your friendship is–"
Katsuki cuffed the red headed menace upside the head none too gently before he could finish, "we're not fucking friends."
Deku glanced between them nervously, clearly not convinced the fight was over. Katsuki narrowed his eyes when he realized the nerd hadn't dropped his guard, his body only wound tighter the longer they looked at each other and the longer they looked at each other the more Katsuki's frustration grew. Deku's fear fucking pissed him off and he didn't understand why.
Katsuki had never done as much damage to him as those shitty extras but somehow Deku seemed more afraid of him than he was of them.
"The fuck did you think you were gunna do, you shitty pipsqueak?!" he snapped loudly, "a worthless deku like you isn't strong enough to fight back."
Izuku's eyes dilated and his face hardened. He stopped blinking, his breathing picked up speed, and he stood very still. Even an asshole like Katsuki could see when he'd triggered someone and the fact that it was Deku just pissed him off more. He'd never paid enough attention to remember what they were, but some things made the nerd lock up like a feral rabbit. He'd fight like one too.
Katsuki used to think that was funny. Now, though? Somehow Deku had ruined that for him.
"Haah?! You got something to say, nerd? Go ahead and spit it out already!"
He tried to stare him down, grinding his teeth together when it garnered none of the typical responses. Instead that stupid pit in his stomach just got heavier. It was all Deku's fault he felt this way, Deku's fault that he couldn't sleep at night, Deku's fault that Katsuki felt like a villain every time their eyes met.
"Fuck you, Deku," he hissed, "you're a pebble on the side of my road to success. Stop getting in my fucking way."
It was Deku's fault that he felt guilty.
When Katsuki stormed away, muttering about this shit being a waste of his time, Kirishima didn't try to follow him.
"Shitty pipsqueak–!"
Muggy heat.
A fist in his hair.
Body pinned by an unbearable weight.
Right arm forcibly held out and kept still by many hands.
The heavy scent of sweat and cigarettes in his nose.
Ribald jokes and loud voices he knew laughing at him as a blistering heat approached his —
An unfamiliar voice brought Izuku blinking back to reality. The boy with spikey red hair was holding his hands out towards Izuku, looking at him like he was waiting for a response. Kacchan had left.
Wait.
…Kacchan had left…?
"Wh-what?" the orphan asked.
"Oh! You're back! Man, I was getting really worried when you suddenly stopped responding. I'm Kirishima Eijiro, by the way! Nice to meet you," Kirishima introduced with a sharp-toothed smile. His energy blindsided Izuku, who numbly gave his name in return.
"Walking around with cactuses stuck in you can't be very comfortable. Here, I'll help you take them out." The boy reached for Izuku and, still coming down from his brief panic attack, Izuku switched to defensive. There wasn't anyone left here to protect anymore.
"W-wait, stop!" he yelped, confused and overwhelmed, "stop!"
Kirishima did. "Ok, ok, I stopped. See?"
Izuku didn't think he could handle being touched yet. Had he really just gotten through an encounter with Kacchan without any burns?
As much as the movement pulled the cacti spines and his other wounds Izuku managed to squat and push himself through a couple breathing exercises. The physical pain helped ground him until he felt better. When he looked up again he found Kirishima squatting in front of him.
"I just wanna help. Is that ok?" In all his life, Izuku had never met someone like Kirishima. His energy was infectious and the kind honesty in his eyes begged for reciprocation. Everything about him radiated earnest compassion.
It was no wonder Kacchan had been about to hit him.
Izuku desperately wanted to trust the red head but his instincts made it difficult. It was even harder than normal because the UA student knew he was quirkless. He didn't think Kirishima would try to hurt him physically, not after what he'd seen of him. But the emotional rejection and quirk segregation that usually followed such a discovery were harder to deal with than physical injuries.
But Kirishima– he didn't act like he hated Izuku, nor did he act like he was embarrassed to be protected by a quirkless person.
"Ok. Uhm, just h-help with the cactuses?" he finally asked, wary. Kirishima nodded. "Th-then ok."
The red head looked relieved that Izuku was willing to accept his help after all and rushed to explain his hardening quirk. Kirishima probably didn't know it but it was a comforting gesture nonetheless, allowing the orphan to fall into the familiar rhythm of quirk analysis.
After some trial and error they figured out the best way to remove the cholla was to yank them off with one motion. Some spines remained stuck where they were and they couldn't do much about the ones in his hair so once Kirishima had done all he could Izuku grabbed the remains of his ripped up notebook and stood for the first time in half an hour with a grimace.
"Oh, looks like one fell on me," Kirishima noticed and promptly yanked the polyp off his arm only to screech in surprise. "Midoriya!" he exclaimed, "how the hell did you let me do all that to you without saying anything? That really hurt!"
"Aah, I guess the hardening quirk doesn't do much to things if they're already under your skin, huh?" Izuku said sympathetically, still engrossed in his critical thinking.
When his company only sniffled in response, Izuku looked up from checking the other boy's arm to find he was near tears. The freckled analyst flinched slightly, broken out of his thoughts by the overwhelming admiration on Kirishima's face.
"Midoriya, you're a real man," the red head beamed, "you're in so much pain but you're still worried about me! Let's be friends!"
"E-eh?!"
Izuku had given Kirishima his phone number the same way someone with a fear of dogs would desperately throw a stick to get away. Except that Izuku wasn't afraid of Kirishima. No, Kirishima's energy was just…
A lot.
After such a strange encounter with Kacchan, Izuku felt a little justified in his retreat. Not to mention that he was beginning to feel particularly ill again. A few irregular palpitations seemed to bounce his heart against his sternum like a basketball.
But before they parted ways he'd asked Izuku for some advice.
"You're Bakugou's childhood friend, right? Please! Tell me how I can be his friend too!"
The analyst had been gob smacked to hear that Bakugou Katsuki wasn't lionized by his classmates and teachers at UA. He wasn't quite sure he believed it.
But then he thought about the strange look on Kacchan's face before he left and the way he actually seemed to sort of tolerate Kirishima's presence. The Kacchan Izuku had known was changing. As strange and unhealthy as it sounded even to himself, that thought made him a little sad. It was like he was somehow being left behind again.
His smile felt fond and melancholic on his face, "I d-don't know what it is you're doing, Kirishima-kun. But, what-whatever it is, you should keep doing it."
An oppressive weight against his chest yanked Izuku from his dreams that night and he surfaced with a gasp that made him feel like he was drowning. Rolling onto his side he gagged and heaved, desperate for more air but only capable of shallow sips.
He didn't know what was happening to him but it felt like his heart was about to burst. Izuku hardly recognized the sound of his own panting. It was so fast and erratic, wheezes accompanied by compulsive whimpers.
His pajamas and sheets were drenched in sweat and he shivered so hard it was a wonder plaster wasn't raining down on the people in the apartment below. It was so cold. Was season was it again?
Izuku choked on a frightened sob, mostly constrained to groaning and whimpering in pain. He couldn't remember where he was anymore. Fog swirled around him, obscuring any identifiable landmarks. Sounds stopped making sense as his body twitched and jerked. It felt like he was inside of a sinking ship that had just gotten into a serious car crash. He wanted to scream.
Stop, stop, stop!
The pressure on his chest abated torturously slow and when it was finally gone Izuku curled up on his side, too tired to cry about it. Sometimes he could go weeks without any kind of major episode and others he might have several. He was willing to bet what he'd just experienced was a type two Afib attack, the type specific to anidiotropics. He'd forgotten what they felt like.
Izuku just had to finish college. That's all. He could go once that was done but not before.
Not before.
There was no way Izuku would be getting back to sleep after that so he'd extracted himself from his uncomfortably moist linens, stripped, and showered. He felt a little better when he was dressed in clean clothes and had some food in his stomach. Yesterday's wounds had mostly been superficial, with the exception of a few cuts and bruises.
The one on his jaw had bloomed into the usual day one colors and there was a cut on the bridge of his nose that had needed a new butterfly suture but that was the extent of what was visible on his face.
Oh, and he'd needed to cut his hair again. Add some piercings and he'd probably start looking like some kind of punk. Having an undercut was technically against school dress code but there wasn't much he could do about it.
With a sigh he sat down in his creaky chair at his wobbly table and unearthed his laptop to answer some QAs and narrow down the list of Stain's next potential victims. These days his inbox was completely flooded. He'd had to delete all but two accounts, one for Japanese clients and one for American clients, to better manage the number of requests. Doing so just about confirmed the internet's suspicions that JQAnon wasn't actually a group of people but it made things a lot easier for Izuku in the end.
He finished up a few high-end requests from official idiotropiaologists and professors, sending them off before combing through his cluttered inboxes for his next few QA jobs.
One user of interest had what he claimed was a 'villains quirk.'
[Qᴜɪʀᴋᴀɴᴀʟʏꜱᴛᴍᴀɪɴ ᴄʀᴇᴀᴛᴇᴅ Qᴀ ᴀᴘᴘʟɪᴄᴀᴛɪᴏɴ #83963]
[ᴊᴜɴᴇ xx, 2xxx ᴀᴛ 17:24 ᴊꜱᴛ]
[𝟷𝟽:𝟸𝟺:𝟶𝟸𝙹𝚂𝚃] 𝚀𝚞𝚒𝚛𝚔𝙰𝚗𝚊𝚕𝚢𝚜𝚝𝚖𝚊𝚒𝚗: I saw your message. Please tell me more about your quirk.
[𝟶:𝟹𝟹:𝟸𝟹𝙹𝚂𝚃] 𝙿𝚞𝚛𝚙𝚕𝚎𝙵𝚘𝚡𝚎𝚛𝟼𝟶: it's called brainwash. I used it during the sports festival and talked about it there but in short i can make people do what i want by making them respond to something I say
Izuku remembered seeing it and being utterly fascinated. Shinsou-kun had already signed the terms and agreement contract – which simply stated he was officially giving Izuku permission to investigate his quirk, and wasn't lying about who the analysis was for.
Izuku of course didn't have the legal authority to enforce anything or take anyone to court. But he found the contract helpful in weeding out those who were trying to be dishonest and it made him feel better knowing he had something to fall back on in case someone tried to gaslight him.
[𝟶:𝟹𝟻:𝟺𝟿𝙹𝚂𝚃] 𝙿𝚞𝚛𝚙𝚕𝚎𝙵𝚘𝚡𝚎𝚛𝟼𝟶: I attached a signed copy of your contract already. The schools analysts are all too narrow minded and all the quirk counselors say the same things. i need some real help
For a while Izuku just stared at that message.
[𝟺:𝟷𝟽:𝟶𝟼𝙹𝚂𝚃] 𝚀𝚞𝚒𝚛𝚔𝙰𝚗𝚊𝚕𝚢𝚜𝚝𝚖𝚊𝚒𝚗: How long have people been calling you a villain?
To his surprise, he got a response.
[𝟺:𝟷𝟽:𝟺𝟻𝙹𝚂𝚃] 𝙿𝚞𝚛𝚙𝚕𝚎𝙵𝚘𝚡𝚎𝚛𝟼𝟶: That doesn't matter
"So a long time then," Izuku translated under breath. The more impetuous side of his instincts demanded he help this person immediately, no matter how hypocritical it would make him. He was already helping UA students, what would be the harm of another?
[𝟺:𝟷𝟾:𝟸𝟾𝙹𝚂𝚃] 𝚀𝚞𝚒𝚛𝚔𝙰𝚗𝚊𝚕𝚢𝚜𝚝𝚖𝚊𝚒𝚗: I assume you already read through the list of rules and qualifications
[𝟺:𝟷𝟾:𝟹𝟷𝙹𝚂𝚃] 𝙿𝚞𝚛𝚙𝚕𝚎𝙵𝚘𝚡𝚎𝚛𝟼𝟶: i know I don't meet your elitist requirements but I haven't got much choise and your apparently the best there is. Ua is just like everywhere else. They don't know what to do with you if you don't have a falshy quirk.
Izuku grimaced and sat back in his chair with a sigh. Technically, because of his situation, Shinsou-kun was more qualified than he thought, according to Izuku's private terms.
[𝟺:𝟷𝟾:4𝟷𝙹𝚂𝚃] 𝙿𝚞𝚛𝚙𝚕𝚎𝙵𝚘𝚡𝚎𝚛𝟼𝟶: Ill pay you for just a few lines if I have to
This was a person who was desperate for help and cut off from the usual lines, someone who could acknowledge the need to improve oneself weighed more than their pride. Izuku could relate. It wasn't hard to empathize with his position. The quirkless minority often had to resort to acts of 'villainy' to get by so they were often seen as bad people too.
He checked through his inbox for some other requests and accepted one from an American professor who was willing to pay double the usual price.
The freckled student finished with a huge yawn and returned to the chat with Hitoshi.
[𝟺:45:12𝙹𝚂𝚃] 𝚀𝚞𝚒𝚛𝚔𝙰𝚗𝚊𝚕𝚢𝚜𝚝𝚖𝚊𝚒𝚗: Alright, I'll do what I can for you. Tell me absolutely everything you can about your quirk and how it feels to use it. We'll keep in touch throughout the week. You'll be paying for the minimalist package.
Izuku knew he wouldn't live long enough to make a big difference in the world and he was content with that. But even if all he could do was make a difference in just one person's world, then that's what he wanted to die doing.
It happened by chance and Izuku would stand by that no matter how much someone might try to lionize his reflexes.
He'd been walking up to an intersection and stopped to wait for the light when he heard a shout of fear approaching him rapidly. There was hardly a second to look, all Izuku had time to do was reach out and grab whatever he could of the young brunette to stop her from biking headlong into oncoming traffic. The kinetic force nearly dislocated his arm, yanking his entire body a full step forward and snapping his unprepared muscles tight.
He clung to the terrified girl as the bike slid out from under her and someone else farther down the sidewalk stepped in to keep it from continuing its path out into the road, it's snapped brake pads bouncing down the hill after it. For several seconds everyone just stood in silence, processing what had happened.
"Are you," Izuku began quietly, not quite believing their luck and looking at her with eyes as wide as hers, "ok?"
I want to do good.
"Midoriya-kun, you've been called in here to discuss some of your recent behavior in class and to address some complaints," Machi-sensei, the Gotemba high counselor, said.
I want to help people.
Izuku shifted in his seat, the old pleather squelching loudly under him. Nervously, he rubbed his aching arm. He'd made a make-shift compression sleeve out of bandages to ease the pain, happy that the girl had at least been ok.
I want–
"Look at me, please," she said and waited until Izuku made eye-contact. Machi-sensei had tall, bracket shaped horns and a long face like a kongoni. Her fuzzy ears stuck out on either side of her head and could swivel to track sounds. She might have been beautiful if her eyes weren't so disproportionately large for her high cheekbones and narrow face. At least, in Izuku's opinion.
"You're safe here. Do you understand?" It didn't feel safe. There were no windows, the lights were uncomfortably bright, and the door was behind him. He nodded anyway. Better to just get this over with. "I need to hear you say it, Midoriya."
Izuku hunched inwards, shoulders climbing up around his ears, "y-y-yes, Machi-sensei." It was easier to take a punch to the face than it was to sit in a counselor's office and watch helplessly as they stripped away his self-confidence. Dread churned in his stomach and he found he'd almost prefer to be facing Kurogiri and Shigaraki again. He'd learned more about the LOV, but not much, since their last encounter. There was a lot of documentation on their 'Sensei.'
Machi-sensei cleared her throat and he shook his head a little to bring his focus back. Last night had left him sleep deprived and more worn out than usual, making it a bit difficult to keep his eyes focused. This meeting was not about to do him any favors, even after it ended.
Water off a duck's back, Izuku, water off a duck's back. Just one little poke and it will be over, a voice from his early memories recited.
The counselor's ear twitched and she sighed like she thought Izuku was a lost cause. "You're the first quirkless person in this school's history to have ever been disruptive enough to land in my office twice, Midoriya Izuku." Machi-sensei's tone made him flinch, her hard expression and strident voice unwavering as she started to list things off on her hand, "Your homeroom teacher tells me your disruptive behavior has been distracting his other students. First; you insist on mumbling in class and refuse to stop when asked–"
Izuku's muttering in class had improved since middle school and he always stopped talking when someone made him aware of it. But, because people thought he was disgusting and creepy, they rarely said anything. Those that thought it was funny would just laugh at him.
"–Second; when students come to you for help with their homework you purposely ignore them–"
Izuku intentionally hid from his peers during lunch because they were more interested in stealing his notes, plagiarizing his work, and ripping apart his college physics homework. No-one attending this school ever asked for his help and meant it.
"–Third; you're constantly starting fights, challenging teachers, and forcing students to use their quirks to defend themselves because of your jealous obsession–"
Izuku never challenged anyone, nor did he invite people to hurt him by starting fights.
She gestured to his hair, "Four; you refuse to follow our dress code. Five; you are always in the nurses' office for one thing or another. How is anyone else supposed to get help if you are in there hogging her time and resources, Midoriya?" she demanded with a meaningful look and sat back.
"Your university professors tell me you don't act this way in their classes. The fact that this behavior is restricted to our high school means it's deliberate. The Gotemba school board recognizes that you're talented for a quirkless person and that you've lived a troubled life. But, don't forget that you need our approval to attend university. If you can't tell me what's going on right now, in this office, I'm going to have to sign a letter for your suspension."
Even the shortest suspension disqualified him from the advanced learning program. He'd be removed from his college courses until he graduated high school, by which time Izuku would be too far gone for further education. He wouldn't be able to keep his promise to mom.
"I'm-I'm-I'm sor-sorry, sorry, b-but–" he began, not sure what she wanted him to say or what he was actually supposed to be sorry for but completely overwhelmed by her threatening diatribe. He could feel himself starting to panic. There were so many problems with what she'd listed he hardly knew where to start. He wasn't doing anything on purpose!
"No– stop," she interrupted harshly, "what are you sorry for? Why are you acting guilty?"
Izuku felt thrown by the question. He hadn't sensed any doubt in her. Was he reading her wrong because he was tired? "I-I don't-don't-don't-don't–" he was starting to feel frantic and desperate, embarrassed by his own inability to keep himself collected in this situation.
"Quit stuttering," Machi-sensei snapped, "you aren't in middle school anymore. This is the real world and it's time for you to be a big kid. No, that doesn't mean you get to start crying instead. Considering everything you've faced in your life, you of all people have no right to be so weak and shameful." Gotemba high school's counselor didn't have a quiet voice at the best of times, but this was borderline stentorian. No doubt her voice could be heard all the way down the other end of the hall outside.
"B-But–!" Izuku buried his head in his hands and held his breath, trying not to cry and failing. An ache built between his temples, his eyes burning. He bit the inside of his cheek and focused on the pain.
"I want to help you, Midoriya-kun. Your middle school was soft on you because of your situation. But if you're going to be a delinquent you can't attend this school, much less represent it in a university. Now tell me the truth and don't act guilty if you're not."
Muffled laughter could be heard through the door behind Izuku. No doubt the school's counselor could see their silhouettes. She didn't try to shoo them off.
Humiliation and fear made him spiral.
"P-p-p-please–puh, please! I don't-don't, I-I don't under– don't understand! I'm t-t-t-trying!" he cried, fear and shame building. No-one could understand what he was saying when he got like this. How was he supposed to communicate how unreasonable Machi-sensei's allegations were?
Izuku tried to push his panic and fear back to more manageable levels, tried to sort through his thoughts and calm down so he could talk properly because he was on borrowed time now and Machi-sensei was clearly impatient enough already.
He wouldn't realize it until later, but Machi-sensei had deliberately started a closed conversation with him. There was probably a more official term for it, but Izuku was no psychologist.
In a closed conversation only one person could speak meaningfully and be listened to. The other was backed into a corner with only one way out. If they tried to defend themselves, they'd just make the situation worse. If they did anything other than agree and apologize it would devolve into a fruitless argument.
Izuku was trapped and the only way out would be unjust punishment.
"Yes, you do. You do understand." She sighed suddenly and softened her expression. In an instant her whole demeanor seemed to change. "I know you've been through a lot in your life, Midoriya-kun. Yours is a difficult situation. And I know you value your schooling more than any of our students so I don't want to have to pull you out of the university program but if you can't come clean you'll leave me with no other choice. I now it feels like I'm being hard on you but it's for your own good. You'll thank me for it later."
She came around her desk and knelt in front of him, reaching for his chair and turning it to face her. Izuku's discomfort ratcheted up to eleven. He had to bite the inside of his cheek so hard it started bleeding just to keep himself from jumping away.
He wanted to run, to get out of this stuffy room, and go somewhere he could think. He needed to get outside, needed to see the sun and dive down to his safe home of forested pipes and forgotten basements.
"I need you to just tell me the truth, Izuku-kun."
So he lied and told her everything she wanted to hear.
Izuku wasn't stupid.
Counselors like Machi-sensei weren't interested in the truth.
Villainizing a victim was the easiest solution.
I want to do good.
Someone got a recording of Izuku's conversation with the counselor and shared it online. By the end of the day it had been made into a remix. The video didn't last very long before it was reported and removed. But by then, it had already been viewed by most of his classmates. The school didn't acknowledge it and all the extra work he'd been saddled with as punishment didn't go away.
Izuku hid in an old bathroom after school, feeling empty as he checked his text messages. He pushed his hurt into a box he kept tucked away at the back of his mind and tried to check in on Iida.
He had a group chat with Tsuyu, Uraraka, and Iida. They hadn't seen each other since before the sports festival and had to keep their interactions to the chat. Except that Iida hadn't been very active online, citing the need to prepare for next week's internship. Izuku let him have his space to grieve but he was beginning to feel concerned. According to Uraraka he wasn't talking to anyone about what had happened to his brother.
A painful snarl from his stomach sometime later made him realize he'd been staring blankly at his phone for over an hour and he tried to reorient himself.
Iida, Iida, Iida. What was I going to say to him again? I need to help Iida. His stomach growled again. When he stood his joints popped and vertigo sent him stumbling into the wall with a surprised yelp. Stars winked in his vision and it took longer than it should have for them to fade. A cold pain closed its mouth around his heart and he shuddered despite the heat. With shaking hands he tried to type out a text to his friend, feeling a visceral need to do something for him even if he couldn't quite get his thoughts in order. His fingers slipped across the touchscreen and sent gibberish.
Tinymightymorph: in Iiba. Are uynn (5:12 PM)
Blinking and furrowing his brow Izuku gave a beleaguered sigh. He'd skipped dinner last night because he hadn't felt well, lunch wasn't an option after his 'counseling session', and the last thing he'd eaten was toast at four AM. He'd have to go shopping this weekend.
A message from an unknown number appeared at the top of the screen asking him what was taking so long.
"M-must be Atsushi," the analyst mumbled. He couldn't recall making plans to watch Bunko-kun today but if Atsushi needed him, he'd be there. The shop owner had made Izuku promise to never save his number and Izuku had never asked why, but they were going to need to set up a passphrase after this.
He washed his face in the sink and drank some water to settle his stomach until he could get something to eat. When he felt better, less trembly, he texted back to let him know he was on his way.
It wasn't Atsushi.
He was barely a block from the Gotemba high entrance gate when a hooded figure emerged with a smile. If not for his prior digging, Izuku might not have recognized him without all the hands.
"Why so surprised, Izuku-kun?"
Shigaraki led him into an abandoned construction yard, empty of all but the two of them. As they walked Izuku tightened the straps of his backpack, bringing it snug against his body so it wouldn't throw off his weight too much should he have to run.
Against someone like Shigaraki, who had such a morbid history, there wasn't much doubt that he'd have to at least shake off his scent. It said something significant about the state of Izuku's mental health that it was so much easier to talk to literal murderers than it was to talk to a school counselor. Comparatively, this was much simpler, the adrenalin more familiar.
"I thought I gave you a warning last time, NPC," Shigaraki rasped casually, hands out of his pockets and shoulders hunched even without the weight of his family's severed hands clinging to the various parts of his torso. It had been shockingly easy to dig up Shigaraki's personal history. His so-called 'Sensei' was a bit harder but there were plenty of records, though none were particularly public, and the gaps were easy enough to fill when you knew as much as Izuku did about All Might and his enemies.
"Where is your cloud butler?" Izuku asked, glancing back and forth but never letting Shigaraki out of his periphery. The last they'd seen of each other the villain had been happy – as most people with flashy quirks tended to be – showing off. The unfortunate but predictable consequence of doing such in front of an obsessive quirk analyst was that Izuku had a decent grasp of his strengths and weaknesses already.
"He has important preparations to take care of. I'm sure you understand." The color of Shigaraki's sunken eyes was drawn out by the unhealthy contrast of his pallid face and light blue hair. The red lines of distressed skin on either side of his neck were blatantly obvious even under the collar of his hoody, and formed noticeable patterns around the space usually occupied by embalmed fingers. His face was shriveled and dry. Izuku suspected it was part of his quirk factors. Shigaraki probably needed a higher than average daily fluid intake to manage.
"It's been almost two months since your plans to storm USJ fell through. Assuming that had anything to do with me, why not make a move sooner?" Izuku asked, making a mental note of the way his enemy had seemed to favor one shoulder when he walked.
Shigaraki made a sound of annoyance and stomped his foot like he couldn't help himself, "I wanted to but Sensei says he'll need you alive when the time comes. Your body is necessary for his and the doctor's research. But I'll get what I want when they're done with you." With a self-satisfied smirk he added, "I always do."
Izuku's eyes widened but not at Shigaraki's personal threat. "You here to tell me the LOV is aligning forces with the Shie Hassaikai, then? Or are you here to kidnap me," he asked, glad his spike of genuine alarm wasn't audible in his voice. The young, underfed, frankly tiny analyst then watched this known villain laugh like a psychopath and pursed his lips, trying to figure out if he always laughed that way or if this was intentionally manic.
"I could have cut down their pathetic ranks on my own. But Sensei says Uncle already took care of that," Shigaraki sneered when he was done chortling. "The League has no need for alliances with the yakuza. And don't worry, we'll come pick you up soon enough. I was interested, so I decided to see how you were doing. That's all."
'Uncle?' Izuku frowned, digesting the information and filing away Shigaraki's continued interest in him for later. As far as he knew, the League had about nine people in it, none of which went by an alias like 'Uncle.' Not to mention, there had recently been whispers about the Shie Hassaikai disbanding but he hadn't overheard anything like a total take-over of their forces and the number of kidnappings hadn't changed. "Where are the bodies going?" he muttered to himself, once again unconsciously falling back on his English.
Shigaraki looked contemplative, like he was making a connection between Izuku and something he already knew. He stalked forwards, closing the distance between them to loom over the analyst. Izuku looked up at him unflinchingly, only inwardly unnerved, watching as the menacing grin from before returned, "soon enough, you and one other will help the League abolish All Might's hero industry and remake it to our choosing. I look forward to working with Japan's famous online quirk analyst. Hey, how do you think all your fans would feel if they knew you were quirkless?"
Izuku spent the rest of the day hidden underground. In that time he'd managed to mentally distance himself from and compartmentalize the events leading up to where he was. Once Shigaraki had left, Izuku's mind had started to drift and he hadn't been able to stop it. He'd analyzed every piece of the conversation between them until it was all he could think about. To be fair, he'd just been told a high profile group of villains, supposedly led by All Might's ultimate enemy, had plans to use his body for human experimentation.
He only vaguely remembered going through the motions of tucking himself into this little private space he'd made his safe haven long ago so it wasn't too surprising to come back out of the recesses of his mind and find himself there. It was one of a few places underground that stayed dry all year. The only way in was through a small, inconspicuous crevice too narrow for anyone else to squeeze through. He'd lined the ground with cardboard, strung up some old blankets and a string of soft lights. It was where he kept his remaining All Might paraphernalia stashed away in a shoebox.
It was a well ventilated space that stayed warm in winter and cool in summer. But it lacked some of the more fundamental essentials that would have otherwise made it a proper home.
When Izuku re-emerged into the world above it was early morning, an hour or so before the salarymen would start waking up for weekend work. Uraraka and Tsuyu had asked if they could bring someone from 1A with them to today's meet but that wouldn't be until a little after noon so he had the whole morning to work on Shinsou-kun's QA and talk to Atsushi about what he'd learned from Shigaraki. Iida-kun had been silent.
Except…
IIDATENYA: What is "Iiba"? Where are you? I already said I'm too busy to come tomorrow. (Yesterday, 6:03 PM)
IIDATENYA: Midoriya-kun? (Yesterday, 6:03 PM)
IIDATENYA: You didn't forget to turn off your phone before you put it in your pocket, did you? (Yesterday, 6:04 PM)
IIDATENYA: Are you ok? Please respond. (Yesterday, 6:57 PM)
IIDATENYA: Midoriya-kun! I don't have time to be worrying about you. (Yesterday, 7:01 PM)
IIDATENYA: Fine. Don't mis-text me again. (Yesterday, 7:09 PM)
Izuku grimaced but was unsurprised. He was intimately familiar with grief, after all. There was nothing anyone could do to make it go away.
Iida's status said he was still online so Izuku texted back.
Tinymightymorph: I can't sleep tonight either so im going out for a bit to check on something. ive got a spot i like to go to that I think you might like too and i'd enjoy your company, if you're up for it (Today, 3:41 AM)
Izuku sent him the address to a shop a mile or two away from Takobah beach. Then he started walking. There was something important he had to say to his friend.
CT: emotional manipulation, triggering a character, broken bones, dissociation
Big parts of this chapter really kicked my ass but I've read it so many times now that I can't focus on what I'm reading anymore so this will have to do. I might have to make some minor edits in the next day or so. Not enough people seem interested in this fic anymore so I decided to synchronize my ff posting with my ao3 posting.
As always, please continue to use the X/O review system. I use this system to decide if it's worth sharing the story as I write it. If interest continues to fall I think what I'll do is pull the story down until it's complete and I'm satisfied with it. As an author, I don't feel very happy with what I've accomplished thus far.
Thanks to everyone who's been reviewing! I look forward to seeing what you think of this chapter. :)
Cheers!
FT