CHAPTER 9: Someone's Name
See bottom for chapter triggers.
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— SMS messages || SHITTY-DEKU || Wednesday, 20:17 JST —
[SHITTY-DEKU turned on location sharing]
Bakugou: [middle finger emoji]
— SMS messages || Kirishima-kun || Thursday at 10:55 JST —
Sharkboi: BRO ARE YOU REALLY IN THE HOSPITAL? ARE YOU OK?
Sharkboi: BRO?
Sharkboi: [gif: an image of a cartoon shark sitting on its tail looks up at the camera and bursts into tears]
Sharkboi: TELL ME YOUR OK WHEN YOU GET THIS D:
Tomura read the news the day after he'd introduced the world to Sensei's nomus to find his accomplishments, his presence, dwarfed by Stain.
HERO KILLER FINALLY CAUGHT! STAIN'S NAME TO GO DOWN IN HISTORY AS MOST DANGEROUS VILLAIN SINCE ALL MIGHT'S DEBUT! Yasushi, Sadow. Tokyo-Shimbun.
Despite the destruction they caused there was little said about the nomus at all. How could so much destruction be so useless? What did Stain have that he didn't? What made people like that bastard?!
With a snarl of frustration he crushed the paper in his hands and watched it crumble onto the glossy bar table Kurogiri had finished cleaning. The world was supposed to forget Stain. He was supposed to undermine Stain, not the other way around.
There was no-way people would forget that bastard now.
But at least he was out of the way.
— Group Chat "I Want 2 See My Boy" Created by user Gravi-Tea —
— Friday at 18:28 JST —
Gravi-Tea: Any news about Deku? (6:30 PM)
Froppy: Sensei said the doctors weren't allowing visitors when I asked him about it yesterday morning but I know Bakugou-chan saw him (6:32 PM)
Gravi-Tea: BAKUGOU DID?
Froppy: I was surprised too. It seems they're childhood friends or something
Gravi-Tea: are you sure someone isn't playing a prank on you, Tsu-chan?
Gravi-Tea: I don't think its possible for someone like him to have friends… (6:34 PM)
Froppy: my sister was sick yesterday so I thought I might stop by
Froppy: I saw it myself ochako-chan
Froppy: its hard to mistake someone who can throw such big tantrums (6:34 PM)
Todoroki Shouto: Iida and I were discharged today. Sensei said we could visit Midoriya tomorrow once he'd been moved out of the ICU. Available hours are from 10 AM to 6 PM. (6:48 PM)
Gravi-Tea: :O then lets be there at 10 AM sharp!
IIDATENYA: It would not be good to overwhelm him. He might have other family who will want to see him before we do. I propose we wait until after lunch.
Froppy: I agree with Iida-chan
Froppy: it wont be good for his heart if we stress midori-chan more than he is (6:53 PM)
IIDATENYA: Then it's settled! The four of us will eat lunch and visit Midoriya-kun on Saturday at 13:30!
Gravi-Tea: Yeah!
Froppy: Iida-chan where should we meet?
Todoroki Shouto: ok
"That stupid kid is too reckless!" Torino exclaimed and shifted the phone against his ear, "he acts without thinking, that Midoriya Izuku. It's almost like there's bloody two of you. Can't you see I don't have any hairs left to gray anymore?!"
Toshi was quiet on the other end but he thought so loudly you could hear what was on his mind even when it was silent. When his former pupil failed to say anything though, the old man scowled.
"You idiots both think at the same volume too. Only difference there is that he's smarter than you," Torino huffed and answered the unspoken question while Toshi moved to a different room on the other end, "I only ever bothered to get the license so I could keep an eye on you and fulfill my promise to Shimura. I ain't taking on another bumpkin, let alone another one like you."
"But–" Toshi, that softhearted fool, began to protest.
"Didn't you hear me say I didn't have any gray hairs left?!" Tornio snapped.
"Yes, yes I did! I mean, I heard," the blond scrambled, voice and footsteps hurried, "without you I wouldn't be the man I am today. I'm in your debt for that." There was a sound like a door opening and closing before Toshi audibly sat down with a halfhearted sigh, "Mirio is an excellent pupil and he's like me in many ways too. There's no doubt he'll make an excellent successor. But Young Midoriya…"
Torino could understand why the guy was so conflicted, not that he could sympathize. Neither he nor Nana had had any reason to second-guess their chosen successors. Mirio Togata was fit to take on the quirk and the mantle that came with it, yes, but Midoriya Izuku was the one who had the original user's spirit. Torino suspected the world would still remember whatever Midoriya accomplished in this life long after his name had been forgotten.
"Enough about the Green Bean, I'm calling you for a different reason. It's about that Stain bastard. I was only in his presence for a few minutes but he had an intensity in him that made me shiver," Torino interrupted, scowling at nothing.
Toshi responded with a low note of alarm, "to be able to make even you shudder. I can't imagine it."
Gran Torino hummed in agreement, "the strength of that man's obsessively fixated ideology was overwhelming. And now the tenets of that ideology are spreading through the media. People influenced by it will start to crawl out of the woodwork. Individually, those following Stain's footsteps would be no match for the current hero society, but they'll keep coming."
"And that's where the villain alliance comes in, isn't it?" All Might said gravely.
"Exactly. Stain has set things in motion for our enemies' ringleader. Given that it's him, he probably had this outcome predicted. If that is the case, and if those nomu creatures are a product of his machinations, there can really only be one person behind this. All For One is back and he's targeting quirkless people."
"Midoriya is in danger."
— SMS messages || Uraraka-san || Saturday at 23:12 JST —
Uraraka-san: I know you probably won't get this for a while
Uraraka-san: but you're an important friend to me and I think you're really amazing
Uraraka-san: everyone misses you so get better quickly ok?
— SMS messages || Tsuyu-san || Sunday at 12:12 JST —
Tsuyu-san : Congratz on your discharge from the hospital, Midori-chan
Tsuyu-san : let's hang out again when you're well enough for it, ok?
Tsuyu-san : feel better soon :)
— SMS messages || Todoroki-kun || Sunday at 13:12 JST —
Todoroki-kun : Congratulations on your discharge
Todoroki-kun : I'll be by shortly to help you. Your parents aren't back yet, right?
…
Todoroki-kun : Are you not home? (1:44 PM)
Todoroki-kun : Midoriya
Todoroki-kun : Midoriya, please respond. (1:46 PM)
…
Todoroki-kun : I broke in. You aren't here.
Todoroki-kun : Some of your things are missing. (2:00 PM)
…
Todoroki-kun : I spoke with the landlord. He says Aizawa-sensei came by to get your things so you must be with him. (2:15 PM)
…
Todoroki-kun : I have confirmed this with Aizawa-sensei. Sleep well, Midoriya. (2:20 PM)
— SMS messages || Iida-kun || Sunday at 17:18 JST —
IIDATENYA: Congratulations on your safe discharge today, Midoriya-kun. (Read 5:25 PM)
…
IIDATENYA: Midoriya-kun, I know you must be upset with me for what happened and I understand if you can never forgive me for putting all our lives in danger, but, if you will let me, I'd like to do whatever I can to mend the bridge between us. When you are ready, I'd like to meet with you in person so I can apologize properly. (Read 10:30 PM)
— Discord .. Shouto .. Tuesday at 5:22 JST —
smitghtysmallest: Todoroki-kun. Did you really break into my apartment?
Shouto: I did, yes.
Shouto: the landlord said he'd fix it
smightysmallest: Todorokiiiiii noooooo :c
Shouto: should I not have?
smightysmallest: well
smightysmallest: i suppose i can understand why you did it
Shouto: How are you feeling?
smightysmallest: good
smightysmallest: meds make me rly sleepy tho
Shouto:get some rest
Shouto: the others are planning to surprise you
smightysmallest: Todoroki-kun it isn't a surprise if u tell me
Shouto: ah. right
smightysmallest: nw
Shouto: go to sleep, Midoriya
smightysmallest: dont wanna
Shouto: why not?
smightysmallest: dreams
smightysmallest: burning
smightysmallest: hurts
Shouto: [A youtube link is shared. It leads to a live feed of kittens sleeping] (5:31 AM)
smightysmallest: :') (5:31 AM)
Shouto: does that help
Shouto: Midoriya?
Shouto: oh (5:50 AM)
Izuku had a new scar on his face; a thin, jagged 'X' just a smidge off-center from the cartilaginous spine of his nose and cutting through his olive skin like cracks in old paint. The pale lines ran through his freckles, connecting the little dots. Even though it wasn't particularly large, he still wondered if it made him too scary to protect little kids the way he'd been doing, if he'd have to adapt his rescues.
"Do you know what happened to the little boy?" he asked Mic-san that morning before his meds could knock him out.
"Oh, the one you got that scar for in Hosu? Shota said the doctors gave him a clean bill of health thanks to you, Mr. Hero!" the English teacher answered over his shoulder, hands busy with the last dishes in the sink. Izuku tried not to frown at the praise, convinced he'd done nothing special. He wasn't a hero. Literally no-one believed he could ever be a hero, even his own biological parents before they died. Hearing someone call him one so nonchalantly was a bit…
But Mic-san didn't know that and it was rude to dismiss a compliment so Izuku nodded and looked down at his hands, feeling heavy and tired. "I'm glad he's ok," he said sleepily, "thank you, Mic-san."
"Aw, you don't have to be so formal," the pro replied, drying his hands on a towel and turning to him, "you can just call me Hizashi-san if you want– what's wrong?"
At first Izuku was confused, completely unaware that he'd given any facial cues. 'Hizashi' was just so close to 'Hisashi' that hearing Mic-san's first name made him feel a little lonely sometimes. He'd get used to it, he knew, and the feeling would fade after a while. But Izuku wasn't sure he'd ever really stop looking for his dad's fluffy hair in a port-side crowd – particularly if he kept having the same nightmares. Then his brain processed the lump in his throat and the wetness of his eyes.
Oh perfect.
"Ah, I'm sorry! I d-don't know – haha. This isn't – I'm not," Izuku babbled with an embarrassed chuckle, scrubbing at his eyes. This sucked. Did he really miss Dad that much? It had been almost eight years since he died and it wasn't as if he'd been around as often as Mom. "S-sorry. Dad's first name was Hisashi, but–but that's ok! If-if-if you want me to call you th-that then I'll get over it! Dad's been g-g-gone for a long– gone for a long time now anyway. I'm fi-ine!"
Oversharing! Even better.
Mic-san passed him a tissue and gave him a moment to clean himself up before squatting in front of his chair. He patted the analyst's knee comfortingly, eyes sympathetic but unjudging, "I'm sorry, kiddo. How about just Yamada-san, or Yamada-sensei, instead?"
Izuku nodded his head, still scrubbing tears out of his eyes. "I'm suh-such a d-drama queen, huh," he said, trying to laugh at himself. This was so embarrassing.
"Definitely not," Aizawa-sensei said, appearing from around the corner and looking down at the two of them with a cup of coffee in hand. He nodded at Yamada-san and grumbled, "he's the drama queen in this house. Even outshines the cats."
"Hey! Poki is way worse than me!" the blond argued with a huff, but Izuku could tell he wasn't actually upset.
The analyst's eyes were getting tired now.
"Just yesterday you were crying about bees," the other man reminded him with a raised eyebrow.
Alarmingly, tears started falling down Yamada-san's face. "They're just so fat and fuzzy, you heartless monster," he sobbed.
Aizawa-san didn't answer him. Instead he took a sip of his coffee and leaned over to gently ruffle Izuku's hair, "the meds you're on can sometimes make people a little emotional. And you've been through a lot lately, on top of that. It's ok to cry." Izuku couldn't speak so he just nodded again. Even if it was ok, he still didn't want to fall apart in front of them, didn't want to burden them with his mess of personal issues.
Izuku's dreams that day were all nautically themed. In them, Dad took eight-year-old Izuku with him when he left. He wasn't an orphan in these dreams and made fast friends with all the crewmen. The little boy was spoiled with his father's comforting hugs and the sweets Mrs. Lunch-lady snuck him.
His body was healthy, unburdened by extra needs. He could climb all the way up to the crow's-nest if he so wanted. And if he got lost all he had to do was look for Dad's dark curls and freckled cheeks. He was always there, somewhere. Always there for Izuku, even if he couldn't be there for mom, even if he acted like someone else sometimes, too.
Yet Dad wasn't there when their boat cracked down the middle and sank beneath his feet, and he still wasn't there when Izuku drowned.
Their boat would get crowded
with pulses of sea foam,
and the waters would change color and stride
Fear may live in the thunderheads
but the heart is where anxiety thrived
As the souls of the dead fill the space of my mind
I'll search without sleeping til' peace I can find
Blindalchemist
What a beautiful day. The birds are singing, flowers are blooming, the world is melting and japan wants to sequester all the quirkless people on its content into internment camps instead of trying to figure out why they keep getting disappearing again. :) :) :)
Blindalchemist
Ok but fr they really trying to do this. Why is no one talking about this?
isthisafedorah
at least they're not doing what north korea's trying to do and making their quirkless citizens get a 'q' tattooed onto their faces
Blindalchemist
no instead they've just been killing their quirkless population off slowly by poisoning their drinking water or something
averylinguisticshrub
I thought that it was a pharmaceutical company that got caught conducting human experiments after the disease (anjidiotopia?) first appeared
ratchetasshoe
At-Blindalchemist…again?
"Midoriya, it's time to take your meds." Aizawa knocked on the boy's bedroom door and waited for a response. When he didn't get one he cracked it open and peeked inside.
He found him right where he'd expected him to be; leaned over his desk, fast asleep, with his laptop open and notes strewn about the surface. The poor kid's medication knocked him right out no matter where he was in the apartment or how stubborn the little workaholic was being. It couldn't be helped, though.
Aizawa opened the door the rest of the way and stepped inside with lunch. Getting food into this kid when he was on his meds – which happened to be most of the time for these first few days – was predictably difficult but Midoriya never complained, even when Shota butchered the taste. Chiyo and Lunch Rush had both conspired to put together a complicated list of things that comprised Izuku's new diet.
The kid was a real trooper and adapted well enough to his new environment despite, or maybe strictly because of, his medication.
Watching his charge fight the sleepiness was endearing in a way that almost reminded Shota of a kitten struggling to stay awake but he still made sure to keep his distance. The boy liked being crowded and fussed over about as much as a feral cat picked up off the streets. That thought made the hero pause before setting the plate down.
Izuku twitched a little in his sleep, then flinched at something. His lips moved but never parted and he never made a sound. Midoriya was abnormally small for his age and the faint disproportion of his head and limbs indicated several years' worth of insufficient nutrition. It was hard to believe this kid wasn't twelve sometimes. But then he'd see his eyes and marvel at how old they looked in his young face, how deep the bags beneath his eyes were. When the kid was up and about in the pro heroes' home he held himself like an escaped prisoner of war. The image was even worse with that new scar on his face.
Both he and Hizashi suspected Midoriya was hiding nightmares and his medicated mood swings, while fairly mild, were still of concern. He always startled when he was addressed, and he tip-toed around the apartment all the time. If not for Poki's caterwauling anytime someone came within sight of the kitchen even Shota might have been convinced that his charge never left his room.
Things would start picking up speed once Midoriya was cleared to go back to school. For now, some problems would have to wait.
"Midoriya, it's time for lunch."
PRO-LIFE ACTIVIST GROUP PUSHING FOR MANDATORY STERILIZATION OF QUIRKLESS PERSONS DENIES ACCUSATIONS OF RACISM, CITING THAT "QUIRKLESS SQUICKS ARE NOT PEOPLE ENOUGH." by Yasushi, Sadow. for the Tokyo-shimbun.
"How're you holdin' up, bratchtible? Still safe or should I come get you?" Atsushi grunted through the phone.
"Mm, I'm ok. My guardians are good people. Even if they weren't it's only for a few weeks, I think," Izuku answered quietly and checked the time on his laptop. It was late but his circadian rhythm had always been a little fucked, pain meds or no pain meds. "Did you just call me 'b-bratchtible'? Wh-at is, what is that?"
He could hear the big bearded man's devious smirk in his answer, "a bratty vegetable." They'd gotten pretty familiar during the past months Izuku had spent living on his own. Bunko-kun and Atsushi where almost as good as family to the orphan these days.
"Ah," Izuku grinned, "how's Bunko-kun?"
Atsushi scoffed but it sounded fond, "bustin' my balls asking about you. This little brat thinks he's so damn smart all the time but he still comes home crying like a baby because his teacher gave him a history lesson he didn't like!"
"Hey, history is hard you know," the analyst admonished, "no-one's any good at learning it. Just look at politicians." Atsushi exploded into bellows of laughter. A tension in Izuku's chest he hadn't known was there loosened at the sound and he couldn't help but laugh a little too. Atsushi might be a gruff bear of a man with suspicious connections and strange pet peeves about phone numbers but his laughter was always somehow warm, contagious.
"Damn straight, kid!" he agreed when he'd calmed down. Izuku could hear him light a cigarette through the phone and frowned a little, "the world's gone fucking nuts coz' of 'em. What's progress looking like for that girl with spider quirk?"
"Oh, Chisa?" the analyst clarified softly, "she's finally getting over her fear of spiders and, now that she understands the finer details of what she can do, says she's been able to use it a lot more in her day to day life. I'm really jealous that she can use the webs to grab things from across the room without getting up."
"You can't sit still long enough to eat, you little bratchtible. What makes you think you wouldn't get up anyway?"
Izuku groaned but couldn't deny Atsushi was right. He had a track record of getting so focused on something he forgot he hadn't finished chewing and would nearly choke himself when he tried to swallow more than he'd expected.
Things were quiet, the air growing a little tense. He waited until the man had had a few puffs before asking, "Atsushi-san, is there something wrong?" Atsushi was quiet for a while longer, fiddling with something that clattered and clicked in his big hands.
"You and my Bunko are both stubborn kippers, brat," he sighed. Izuku heard him scuff his heel against something and then the unmistakable sound of the bell above the door ring. "What's the name o' that shitty melon bread you like again? I'm putting in a stock order tonight."
For whatever reason the question felt so final it put a deep sense of foreboding in Izuku's stomach. Were the meds making him paranoid? Something was wrong.
"I'm afraid we need more than just a note from a temporary guardian to excuse him, Mr. Aizawa," Machi-sensei said to Eraserhead. The man didn't really glare, per se, but his displeasure was no less obvious. The way the tall, antelope-like woman looked back, though, made Izuku wonder if he was wrong.
Machi-sensei still made him incredibly uncomfortable. Usually, just the sight of her made him feel anxious and defeated. Luckily, today he wasn't alone.
"The note was written according to Gotemba Highschool's posted health pass requirements. If something has changed in the last thirty minutes, then maybe you can tell me about it," Aizawa-sensei said simply. He was clearly aware of the school's blatant discrimination against Izuku now.
"I apologize," the woman said unapologetically, "I understand it can be difficult for first time fosters to navigate school websites– " the pro hero raised his eyebrows at that and the rude remark made Izuku stiffen "–but students such as Midoriya-kun are held to a different standard. Gotemba High takes great pride in our strict allowances for them, of which Midoriya is well aware that he has broken for the last time."
Izuku's breath hitched when her eyes suddenly turned on him and he was glad when no-one seemed to notice. "I understand your desire to fulfill your promise to your deceased mother, Izuku-kun, and finish college before everyone else. But, failing to provide signed evidence from a professional anidiotropic health practitioner, excusing you from almost two weeks of lectures, the school board has sadly decided to revoke your privileges." Every word lanced into Izuku's body like a bolt from a crossbow. Still, he swallowed his fear and rifled through his backpack, pulling out the letter he'd received from the hospital. He handed it to her wordlessly.
Her eyes flicked from him, to the letter, and then to him again without so much as moving her head. Then she took it.
The analyst spoke as Machi-sensei opened it, "Dr. Tetsuya, a quirk specialist from Central Hospital in Tokyo, oversaw my operation and guided the surgeon, Dr. Maita, and his team, during my treatment at the Hosu General Hospital. It's written on official letterhead, to the format specified by Gotemba's school policies for Quirkless Excellence. Both Dr. Tetsuya and Dr. Maita have signed it with their stamps. An additional signature from the American cardiologist who provided emergency consulting services free of charge has been included." Machi-sensei leafed through the contents of the letter, appearing surprised to find so much detail included. "Inside, you will find a copy of the full procedural report explaining what happened and why I could not attend school sooner."
"I'm sorry, Izuku-kun," the woman said sternly, forcing everything back into the envelope, "but the due date has passed. There are no exceptions. You need to learn that manipulating others is not how to get what you want."
"I understand it can be difficult navigate school websites," Izuku replied with a polite smile, inwardly irritated by her persistence. This was a deliberate show for Aizawa-sensei. "As you know, there are many more rules disabled students such as myself are made to follow. It's easy even for a counselor, who is required to know them, to get lost in all those special details. So I included a printed copy of the medical emergency rulebook for your convenience. It details the requirements I have fulfilled and states an official due date– which is not until two weeks after my discharge. I highlighted it for you."
The high school counselor set the papers down on her desk after a long, furious glare in Izuku's direction. When she turned to Aizawa-sensei's steadfast, pointedly cutting gaze, it was with a weak smile, "please take a seat, sir, while I read the documentation you have provided. I'm sure you're quite busy so I'll try to be quick."
"Take care not to threaten your own tenure, Umemoto-san," Eraserhead replied dangerously.
Izuku ducked his head to hide the smile he couldn't keep off his face when he saw the way Machi-sensei's eyes widened.
Hinata OG hinataisontwitter
To the historian that recently brought back "squick" as a racial slur against quirkless people:
Fuck you
Law enforcement officers race to find new serial killer slashing his way through Taito City. Osamu, Yasutake. Yomiuri–shimbun.
Izuku was spacing out, fiddling with his fingers and biting his lip to keep from scratching at his freshly healed wounds. One of them still bothered him, clearly a little infected, but he'd decided to give his body time to deal with it on its own before he bothered the busy heroes charged with looking after him.
"You're in the way, squick!"
A spray of dirt and sand being kicked into his face yanked the QA back down to earth. Coughing and sputtering, he covered his head right before another wave crashed over him.
He could hear a gaggle of students from his PE class roughhousing with the football nearby but couldn't see them around the dirt in his eyes.
"Midoriya is such an eyesore. I wish they'd make him leave already," someone grumbled.
"Oh my god is he crying? Ew!" one of the girls whispered to another.
Blinded, it was only by chance that he was able to dodge the ball kicked at him. The teacher blew his whistle at the boys, gave them the usual talk about taking care of their classmates, and sent them off.
"Midoriya, again?" the man huffed like it was his fault, but still glanced him over to make sure he wasn't really hurt. When the teacher was satisfied he returned to the rest of the class, leaving his quirkless student to dig sand and grit out of his eyes.
Halfheartedly, Izuku wondered what the PE courses in UA looked like.
"U-u-u-u-useless!" one of the boys jeered at him as he passed, using an overdone imitation of Izuku's stutter. His old speech impediment had improved by leaps and bounds since meeting Uraraka and Iida. And after the incident with Stain it hardly bothered him anymore.
The QA watched one of his classmates use her quirk to make a goal and only half listened to one of the boys complain about it. Gotemba High really didn't give a damn about the public quirk law– much like Aldera. They made half-hearted attempts when it suited them but aside from a brief scolding or the occasional apology letter, nothing was actually done about it so long as the students weren't too obvious.
On a lesser note, Izuku didn't blame them for being irritated. He, too, did not want to be there. He was relieved to finally get out of the apartment, sure, but there genuinely wasn't much point to make him attend the physical education class these days. Not even when he didn't have a fancy health pass.
He smiled, thinking back to the look on Machi-sensei's face when he presented her with the pass. The analyst would remember that for a good while. Aizawa-sensei had almost seemed impressed, if not somehow proud.
Since their last conversation, Atsushi had referred a client with an urgent problem to Izuku. Izuku had scheduled to meet this person after his first day back to school but the students assigned with classroom duty for the day were still angry he'd been excused from their PE lesson. Locked inside, the orphan had been made to complete the task for them while they jeered and whispered about him on the other side of the doors. His side cramped and burned terribly when he finished but at least they hadn't tried to make it harder than usual.
"I hear you had a heart attack. That right, Squick?" Izuku really wished that old slur could have just stayed dead, he was getting really sick of hearing it. "Did your own shadow finally scare you to death?" the little group laughed uproariously at the joke, "you really should join the QSC, don't you think? It's perfect for you!" It disturbed Izuku how easy it was for them to joke about the Quirkless Suicide Club. One of the older boys shoved at Izuku's shoulder, trying to make him stumble as he crossed the courtyard.
"Hey that scar on your face is fucking disgusting. Cover that ugly mess up, dude."
It was all in all a pretty routine way to end the school day. At least until–
"Maybe we should escort you home. My quirk could really use your help, you know? It's been a little limp lately." Ribald jokes. Bodies all around him. Surrounded. Loud peals of vicious laughter from many different mouths.
One of the boys grabbed the back of his neck. Izuku couldn't tell if that was real or not.
Something was wrong.
Unable to stop it, Izuku blacked out. When his mind came back it was to see the guy who'd presumably tried to grab him sprinting in the other direction with his friends, yelling something about psycho-lunatics. Confused but reasonably assured he'd done something, Izuku checked for blood and looked around.
From a window he caught sight of his usual upperclassmen bullies; Toda, Sera, and Horie watching his classmates flee with amused smirks on their faces.
Something was wrong.
"Midoriya-kun!"
Izuku flinched so hard his stomach must have completely flipped. Turning around with a hand covering the back of his neck and the other against his chest, he found Iida-kun at the entrance gate looking ready to damn salute him. "I am here to pick you up!"
Still a bit dazed, the QA squinted at his friend. It had been almost two weeks since they'd last seen each other and yet he still didn't feel ready to talk. Iida must have known. Izuku had replied to everyone's texts except for his. He felt bad for it but he wanted more time to think before addressing what had happened. "Did Aizawa-sensei ask you to? How-how long have you b-been waiting?"
"Yes! And I have been here for forty-five minutes!" Iida-kun looked nervous with his back so straight and shoulders so stiff. He was visibly trying not to stare at the new scar on Izuku's face but the way his gaze flickered was telling.
"Why didn't you try texting me?" the analyst asked, glancing at his phone with a sigh at the time. He started his walk to the station, Iida following at a respectful distance from his heels.
"I did not want to interrupt your after school business."
Izuku frowned at that but didn't try to correct him, "I see."
For a while they walked in tense silence. Though it felt cruel to do so, the orphan let his companion stew. There were elements of Iida's conflict with Stain that reminded him too much of Yuki-san and Osaki-san. It left the sharp sting of betrayal at the back of his throat. Eventually the footsteps behind him drew to a stop and the older boy called his name, voice hard with determination.
"I don't w-want your apology, Iida-kun," Izuku stopped walking and interrupted before another word could get out of Iida's mouth, suddenly unable to bear the thought. He clenched his fists and looked down at his feet.
The memories he had of their fight against the Hero Killer mixed with even darker shadows that lived in the back of his mind. "And I don't care how sorry you are, either, because you're not the first. The last time someone like you manipulated my intentions to enable their own agenda they killed someone, " The freckled student finally turned to meet his companion's indigo eyes, widened with shock and horror. "To be honest Iida, I'm not sure if I'm angry, disappointed, or both. If you expect me to just trust you again after what you did, I–"
This time it was the speedster's turn to interject.
"No!" he cried emphatically, voice carrying up and down the corridor, "I could never expect you to do such a thing, Midoriya-kun!" Iida ducked his head, glasses flashing in the light but unable to obscure the self-loathing in his voice or the trembling of his white-knuckled fists, "I did something horrible and selfish and stupid. I will regret what I did for the rest of my life with or without your forgiveness because I don't deserve it. I would reject it if you offered it!"
"Todoroki-kun and I," Iida shook his head, seemingly dismayed by a memory, "even though they couldn't credit us with his capture, the police chief thanked Todoroki-kun and myself personally for the hero killer's capture. But he refused to acknowledge your involvement. You, a person without a quirk, who bravely stepped in and fought that bastard to protect all of us. He couldn't even honor you by saying your name." His body trembled with anger, "it made me so mad. You try so hard but everyone just ignores you." The reminder made Izuku grimace. He was used to it, he'd even learned to appreciate it, but there were still times that he wished someone would notice. "I still consider you my friend, Midoriya-kun. That's why, even if I don't deserve it, please give me a chance to earn back your trust!" With that statement Iida bent forward in a standing bow so low it formed an almost perfect right angle with the ground.
The terminally ill orphan knew he should reject this proverbial olive branch. He should break it into pieces and throw it away. For Iida's sake. For his own.
Instead he just said, "then I'll be watching."
Iida and Izuku would be going their separate ways when they reached the station, the former needing to take a different train to get home. While they waited for Izuku's on a bench facing the platform, Iida turned to him hesitantly, "Midoriya-kun, I'm sorry. Can I trouble you for some advice regarding my brother."
Izuku patiently waited for the other to continue. Almost a full minute passed before he realized his friend wanted his permission first. "I'll always listen, Iida," he told him, hoping he would understand that listening wasn't the same as offering advice.
Luckily, Iida nodded his understanding. "He gave me his hero name but I'm such a coward that I don't know what to do. What if I can't live up to it?" Iida leaned forward and looked down at his hands with a worried frown.
Izuku knew what he wanted to say to that right off the bat but paused to think. He must have taken too long to reply because his friend's shoulders dropped, head bowing in what looked like shame and disappointment.
Curse Izuku and his stupid, bleeding heart. He was too soft for this.
"I apologize. I shouldn't have–" the boy with blue hair began.
"Iida-kun, you don't live up to a name," Izuku watched him tense and clench his teeth, visibly preparing for an emotional blow. Sighing sadly, commiserate, the analyst reached over to lightly tap his shoulder, drawing him out of his downward spiral. "A name means nothing," Izuku told him when he knew he had his friend's attention again, "nobody remembers the great names of ordinary people, only the ordinary names of those who have done great things. You don't live up to a name, Iida-kun; the name lives up to you."
"I-I don't understand," Iida said, pushing his glasses up. He didn't seem to notice that Izuku's train had arrived. Not wanting to miss it, the analyst stood and started toward it. "Midoriya-kun–"
"The name isn't important, Iida-kun," Izuku explained quickly, stepping into his car and turning to look at him, "every new name begins empty and unimportant. It is your actions that define it. Not the other way around."
There wasn't any time left for a response before the doors closed and Izuku watched Iida's contemplative figure disappear from view.
On his way to meet his frankly overeager client, with dusk darkening the horizon, the QA stopped to read the underground news coded in a patch of new graffiti art. It was hard to say if there just wasn't much going on or if it was all too top secret to risk being deciphered by nerds like Izuku, but there was less to read than usual. The Shie Hassaikai had apparently gone quiet and appeared to have disbanded, according to Nighteye's undercover agent. Chisaki's exact whereabouts remained unknown but, from what Izuku could piece together, he wasn't the real target.
Interestingly, there was a box code that lead to an online report about recent sounds coming from the basement under the Sally House. Izuku wondered if he'd have time to visit later this week, wanting to check on his locks.
There was something else bothering him lately. The orphan had a feeling he was forgetting something important. He'd officially caught up with all his friends, put an announcement on his profile about temporarily closing shop, read through his notifications and emails, talked to his landlord, collected all his missed homework…
What was it?
Izuku was still ruminating when he approached his destination, hood up and facemask on.
"JQAnon?"
"Yes?–"
His entire body froze, mind falling backwards and soul slipping off kilter, leaving him trapped and panicking in his own mind. He saw Shinso Hitoshi emerge from the shadows through a haze and a loud, internal, fuck.
Oh, right. That's what he'd been forgetting.
Izuku had forgotten about Shinso's unfinished QA.
"Why did you need to knock me onto a bike rack, asshole," he squeaked pathetically, feeling this whole ordeal was a little too extreme for an unpaid analysis. With the amount of pain he was in there was no way the other student's brainwash quirk would work on him at least.
"Sorry, I didn't notice it was there. Are you ok?" Shinso asked and tried to hand Izuku some water. He'd helped him to the nearest vending machine.
Holding his aching side, fist pressed into an area just to the left of his burning injuries – specifically, to the left of his last remaining, sort of infected, open puncture wounds – the analyst sucked in a deep breath and stayed curled into an agonized little ball.
"I'm really sorry, you weren't supposed to fall over like that." At least the UA student had it in him to sound guilty about it. The water was set down on the ground next to Izuku, who hadn't uncurled himself. It had been a long first day back for the analyst so could he really be blamed for cursing and making sounds like helium being squeezed out of a balloon every so often?
"Forget what I said before," he wheezed when he'd recovered enough to speak again, loosening his grip around his knees and peering out to glare at the purple haired insomniac, "I'm adding a ¥ 9,000 tolerance tax to your total."
Shinso smiled nervously at him but didn't try to apologize again. "I've been looking for you for a while now," he confessed.
"Oh?" Suddenly wary, Izuku wondered if he had anything to do with the stubborn attachments he used to deal with on his way home at night. "How many of you are there?" The blankness on Shinso's face was all the answer he needed. "Never mind. Is this about your analysis or what?"
The other boy sighed and sat back on his haunches, looking a little bored, "not really. I was only interested because I'd heard about you from your 1A friends and thought it was suspicious. Your online reputation precedes you."
Izuku sighed, absently rubbing the back of his neck with a worried frown. "I'll take that as a compliment," he decided, "so I suppose you wanted to lure me out by setting up a fake meeting, huh? Your quirk is really amazing, Shinso-kun, but don't you think that's too risky to do alone?"
The confusion on the other boy's face sent a jolt of alarm through Izuku even before Shinso opened his mouth, "what are you talking about?"
"Didn't you text me about something urgent?" This just seemed to make Shinso more confused, even when Izuku showed him the text message. His phone number wasn't easy to obtain, since Atsushi policed and vetted his clients so extensively, and everything was written in a code that Izuku had designed himself. Atsushi had forwarded this meeting to him personally, just like always, and he didn't make mistakes. But there wasn't anyone else here and Shinso clearly couldn't read the code.
"I'm not sure what this is about, Midoriya, but I just saw you get off the train and decided to follow you. I never sent you anything," Shinso's face was serious.
Something was wrong.
Dread sat fat in his stomach and stayed there even as he apologized for the mistake and quickly left, ignoring Shinso's calls. A phantom hand on the back of his neck tightened its grip. Izuku needed to check on Atsushi now.
It was instinct, and perhaps a bit of paranoia, that drove him to swing by his apartment on the way to the shop. He needed to be sure his written analyses, the ones he had specifically for p-HQAs, were still hidden.
The door was unlocked when he arrived, and a horrible smell greeted him when he opened it. Heart in his throat, Izuku propped the door open behind him using a broken dowel and eased his way inside.
Every single page had been ripped from his notebooks and shredded. All his dishes and kitchen utensils had been thrown across the apartment. Nothing had been spared in the indiscriminate destruction.
Glass crunched under his feet as he climbed over the toppled fridge and approached the wobbly partition that used to guard his bedroom. It had been wedged out of alignment but that wasn't what caught Izuku's eye.
There was something written on the door, words formed with paint so brown it was black in places, clumped with what might have been bits of sand. He cringed when the smell of rot hit him full force, a rusty bucket coming into view. It wasn't his and there was something fowl inside it, something that was sour and metallic.
Izuku knew it wasn't really paint on the wall.
He knew the grainy texture wasn't sand.
He knew what old blood looked like, smelled like, could recognize the ugly colors it went through as it decayed.
He almost didn't remember to read the message. Then he regretted remembering at all.
It felt like every organ in his body descended to his feet, ice sweeping through him, his heart stuck between tachycardia and forceful palpitations, ears ringing like they did after a particularly large blast of Kacchan's quirk.
In big, bold characters, the message read: YOU ARE NOT SAFE HERE.
Something was very wrong.
CT: Nightmares, sinking ship, drowning, jokes about suicide and the sexual assault of a minor, blood used as paint
"As the souls of the dead fill the space of my mind, I'll search without sleeping til' peace I can find." — The Longest Johns; Bones in the Ocean.
Sorry for the wait! Keep an eye out for updates as I'm not sure the next chapter will get up by next weekend.
X/Os please
Cheers,
FT