I crossposted this to AO3. Find me there as Kryik (trialtest).

Tags: Truth Serum, Self-Doubt, Hurt no Comfort, BNHA Manga Spoilers, Angst, Not Beta Read. Warning for a little blood.


When Aizawa-sensei announces that the hero course will have a practical lesson in dealing with interrogation in a week, Izuku diligently writes the date in his planner and files the information in the back of his brain. There's nothing odd about the exercise. There will always be a risk of a pro hero forcibly snatched away, restrained and cracked apart for information, especially for those intending to reach the top of the rankings and privy to confidential briefings.

Izuku remembers a half-horror, half-uplifting story from the net where Crimson Riot managed to survive for four days in awful condition, yet successfully kept himself from divulging information that would've caused a certain company to destroy any ties to their quirk trafficking operation. Thanks to his fortitude, hundreds of children — quirkless, Izuku painfully recounts — were saved from a life of becoming livestock and an entire group of high-ranking executives behind Tartarus' bars.

Thinking back to it causes nausea to coil up his gut. That could have been him. If All Might hadn't blessed him with One For All, given him a quirk, and give him an opportunity to catch up to his peers, Izuku knows very well that he could've been used and disposed of the moment an unethical scientist pumped in too many drugs for his powerless body to take.

Aizawa-sensei then hands over a sheaf of papers for Yaomomo and Iida to pass around, distributing the homework for the day, and promptly collapses into his sleeping bag, signalling the end of the school day.

Mina, Sero, and Kirishima are the first to stroll out the door, a ray of extroverted energy emanating from the three. Kaminari and Mineta try to talk with Jirou, only to be nearly strangled by the girl's improvised garottes. It takes the combined strength of the class representatives to tear them apart and chew out the three of them. In Iida's words, attempted murder is uncalled for in an educational institution, and he pushes them out of the room before gritting his teeth and clenching his fist.

Yaomomo asks if the blue-haired leader needs to go to Recovery Girl, but Izuku knows that the incident with Stain still affects his friend to this day.

Eventually, more and more of his classmates trickle out of the classroom, leaving Izuku to ruminate on how much more he has to push himself to not be the quirkless deku and earn the right to proudly use his damn quirk. He stuffs his homework — something about baseline heroic ethics and the effects of certain drugs on the nervous system — into his bright yellow bag before slinging it across his shoulders.

"Midoriya. Class ended fifteen minutes ago."

Like a hawk, Aizawa is suddenly perched on the lecture podium, glaring down at the boy with a singular eye. His right is wrapped up in a dark eyepatch, and the guilt of witnessing Shigaraki decay his face and doing nothing to stop it crashes through Izuku's throat and constricts his lungs.

Aizawa-sensei's keen perception must've detected Izuku's change in breathing as his gaze immediately softens and steps off the dias. "Is something wrong? Do you need to visit the nurse?"

"It's my fault," Izuku nearly blurts, but catches himself so his teacher only catches a short croak.

Despite his monumental guilt, Izuku is well aware that even though Aizawa-sensei may be cold and strict, he'd carry the world for his students and never blame them for a factor out of their control. Realistically, the blame is on Shigaraki and All For One. It's their fault that they turned Jaku to dust and hurt everyone that he admired.

But Izuku doesn't care. He's supposed to be a hero in training for god's sake! What was the point of becoming blessed with a quirk and mentored by the symbol of peace himself if he couldn't do anything when it mattered. Izuku doesn't need — deserve — Aizawa-sensei's help, not after what he failed to do. This has to be something he overcomes by himself.

"N - Nothing, Aizawa-sensei. Sorry for keeping you here," he replies instead. "I'll be going now."

Aizawa watches him give a half-hearted wave before sliding the class door shut.

A week passes by like nothing as Izuku finds himself occupied by an ever increasing stack of assignments ( Wasn't there a war just a month ago? ) and a cat-and-mouse game of avoiding Kacchan's attempts at serious conversation.

"Deku!" he screams one day as he enters the common room, "Come and talk with me like a fucking man! You can't ignore me forever!"

"Sorry, Kacchan," Izuku says nonchalantly, immediately packing up his study materials into his bag, "I'm busy. I've Ectoplasm-sensei's Integrals unit is kicking my butt, you know?"

"Fucking shitnerd. We both know that you're right behind me in math. Quit avoiding me."

Kacchan is smart enough to deduce the turmoil Izuku is feeling, but he won't get the opportunity to listen if he can help it. Izuku doesn't deserve his dearest friend's concerns or invitations for a serious chat, especially when it's his fault that Kacchan ended up with four holes through his torso and a week-long stay in the hospital.

It's not like Kacchan can force him to talk, not after Izuku acquired blackwhip and danger sense, so he continues to ignore the person of his adoration and accept the pins ripping through his gut at every word.

Aizawa-sensei and Vlad King lead the hero course into Gym Gamma. Izuku sweeps the cavern and sees many of who he recognizes as the second year general course students — Third, he reminds himself. They're older now. — donning white lab coats, some chattering excitedly with Recovery Girl. There's enough foldable chairs scattered across the concrete, each with a matching table and steel tray. A labelled bottle, alcohol wipes, and a wrapped syringe sit on top.

The classes are ushered into the seats, with Izuku himself dragged next to Bakugo who gives a cryptic glance before facing towards their sensei. The smell of antiseptic lingers in the air, possibly from a past session? He shakes his foot as he stares at the label of the little glass container.

Thiopental sodium-2.5%. For IV use only, it reads in bolded English. The name seems familiar. Its effects are just on the tip of his tongue, but Izuku supposes that it's safe for injection. It's odd, though. He expects this to be a mass vaccination, but none of the text references a viral or bacterial strain.

He hears Kacchan mutter something along the lines of shutting the fuck up before hearing Aizawa-sensei clearing his throat, causing Izuku to shift up his head. Oh. Izuku must've gotten carried away with his observations. It's a bad habit, despite what Uraraka and Iida say. Heroes aren't supposed to weird out civilians with quiet rambles.

"Like what me and Kan said a week ago, we're beginning our Resistance to Interrogation unit. This has been mandatory since the Heroics Education Betterment Act was passed in 2154. You will experience scenarios that can be scary, traumatizing, painful, or all three. And this is not optional."

Hands raise. Kan-sensei points to the 1-B girl with a long ponytail on the side. "Yes, Kendou?"

"What do you mean by 'not optional'? You can't just force us to go through something self described as traumatic," Kendou demands.

"Correct," says Kan-sensei, "That would be illegal. You're free to tap out, so to speak, at any time you wish."

He pauses.

"But choosing to forgo the lesson without a session to make it up will result in your expulsion."

Whispers travel across the room like riptides crashing across the sea. Getting expelled from any hero academy, much less a prestigious place like Yuuei,

What the hell?

Maybe I should've read that permission slip in my admissions letter...

They won't do anything to permanently hurt us. Think - Think of it like sparring.

Kacchan's voice cuts through the current as he climbs onto the chair. His Gen-Ed partner scrambles to drag him down only to get punted to the ground.

"You goddamned Extras have got some nerve bitching about a unit meant to make us into better heroes," he yells, "Getting kidnapped for questioning isn't impossible, and we've got to prepare for the worst. If you can't handle heroics because of some stupid, supervised simulation, then go and fucking switch to management."

Izuku finds himself admiring the creases in Kacchan's eyebrows and the spittle flying out of every biting word. It's safe. There's nothing to worry about. He's a little scared of having the liquid injected into his bloodstream, that he now suspects is a sedative-hypnotic, but if Kacchan can handle it, then he'll do his best as well.

The rest of the class evidently doesn't feel the same, but nobody comes up with a rebuttal. Monoma sticks up his middle finger and hooks a finger into his mouth to form an ugly face, which Kendou promptly fixes with a chop to his neck. Aizawa-sensei tells Kacchan to sit back down and continues with the rest of his spiel.

"Our first session will involve truth serum. Your partner in the lab coat is Gen-Ed — " Izuku's partner, a boy with blue hair, makes an 'okay' sign and nods, " — but they've already had experience working as nurses under various doctors. They will be responsible for administering the dose already predetermined from your physicals last month."

Aizawa-sensei gestures towards Recovery Girl, uncharacteristically stressed with double the wrinkles as usual. "You'll fall unconscious within a minute, then wake up feeling very relaxed and find it hard to think. If anything else happens, tap out and let Recovery Girl know. You can try it again later."

"Your partner will then ask you questions that you should do your best to resist answering, no matter how innocuous it sounds. Focus on keeping your secrets safe, or shortening your answers as much as possible. This is difficult, so we don't expect a perfect round. Just do your best to familiarize yourself with the sensation."

Izuku sees Kacchan immediately stick his arm out to his medic, about to grab the syringe and fluid to do it himself, but his partner snatches the equipment away first. After a little spat, a swipe of an alcohol wipe, and a jab, Kacchan's sharp eyes start to close.

"Midoriya, huh? I'm Mob. Third-year Gen-Ed and functionally quirkless."

Izuku's companion gives a lopsided grin as he gives a quick rubdown on the meat of his arm. Alcohol vapors sting his nose as he gapes.

"Quirkless?"

"Yeah."

Mob's smile turns bitter while he sticks the needle through the cork of the bottle and extracts the serum. He mouths the milliliters as the fluid rises up before squirting out any air bubbles and jabbing the syringe into his bicep.

"Not that someone with a quirk like yours understands."

This conversation is so awfully reminiscent of Shinsou at the sports festival that Izuku almost brings up the fact that the quirk doesn't determine the person, but he can feel the drug moving up his spine, weights on his eyelids and a mental fog settling in. Eventually, just like what Aizawa-sensei said, his vision goes fuzzy and…

"Wake up, Midoriya."

... Izuku thinks that it's weird how Mob phased into another position, this time standing in front, despite his quirklessness. Why would he lie about his quirk, though?

Comforting weights wrap around his muscles, making it a struggle to even breathe, as Izuku tilts his head up and squints from the fluorescent network of lights.

"Uhhhh…?" he sloppily questions. Working his jaw is like trying to walk in meter-high snow, like a physical block preventing him from speaking.

"You're awake. That's good."

"... Yeah…. " It's easier for Izuku to speak, now that more control seeps into his limbs. The boon is a curse at the same time, he notes, as it would've been easier to resist if he wasn't capable of talking in the first place.

Mob pulls up another chair and rests his head on steepled hands. He exhales.

"Tell me about your childhood."

Fear lances through Izuku's sluggish heart, yet his mouth instantly runs its course. Unlike the past, the barbiturate slows the electrical signal to stop his honest answer just enough to damn.

"I was diagnosed as quirkless at five years old," says Izuku, before slapping his limp hands over his mouth. His eyes widen and he can hear the beat of his heart rushing through his ears.

Mob chuckles into a palm. "That's funny. I'd say that you're trying to throw me off, but your reaction to that answer makes me think you slipped up."

It's over. He's failed. He doesn't deserve All Might and the vestiges. He'd raise his hand for Aizawa-sensei's help, but

"Well, you clearly have a quirk now. Tell me how you got it," Mob drawls.

Izuku is faster this time, prepared for this line of questioning. He blurts out the first thought that bubbles up his mind.

"No."

Short. Simple. Aizawa-sensei would be proud. Izuku repeats the mantra in his head. No. No. No. No. He won't pry it out.

Mob's eyes darken. A smaller smirk creeps across his face with a sinister edge.

"I've been watching you a lot, you know. It was obvious from your fight against Endeavor's kid that you were inexperienced with your strength enhancement. Speaking of which, it reminds me of someone…"

Izuku sees him mouth the words of the faculty. Eraserhead, no; Vlad, no; Power Loader, no; Lunch Rush? No. The drug makes it hypnotic to view repetitive patterns, and any previous directive Izuku has is washed away into static. Mob's face lights up, seemingly drinking in the numbing misery in Izuku's veins.

"Ah! It's All Might, yeah? It makes sense. He's quirkless now; you aren't."

"Yes," Izuku snaps by reflex before choking out a sob. He needs to focus because that's the only weapon he's got against the numbing comfort coursing through his body. Yet Mob looks like he's winning. The look on his face is like when Aizawa-sensei feels like assigning a pop quiz — sharp and predatory.

"God," he howls. Quietly, though, so nobody notices anything amiss. "I can't believe the symbol of peace ended up giving his power to a little crybaby like you. I heard that your teacher was with you in Jaku, and that he's also got a fake leg from protecting you."

Izuku idly notices tears streaking down his cheeks, forming fat, salty droplets that paint his pants a darker green. Stop. Please, stop. He knows it's true. Every glimpse of his sensei's eyepatch slams the fact into his psyche.

"And that Bakugou got pincushioned after pushing you out of the way."

Izuku grits his teeth and whispers. "Stop it…"

He remembers waking up to Kacchan in the hospital and wrapped in a crushing embrace. It should've been the other way around. It should've never happened. Izuku hurt Kacchan by failing to protect him, and he assumes that the suffocating grip in his chest and Mob's vile attitude is a form of karma biting back.

But Mob's not done. "How the hell did you think you'd ever become a hero if you can't even save yourself, no less?"

And that's all it takes for Izuku Midoriya to lose control.

He stands with the help of float, red high-tops barely touching the ground. Blackwhip streaks out of his wrists, branching out like a messed up tree. The ends are sharp and aimed towards his blue-haired tormentor. Danger sense feels like its drilling into his cranium, painfully ripping at any coherent thought.

One swipe and red sprays across his vision. Fetid iron curls up his nose, causing Izuku to grimace unconsciously.

There's screaming. Izuku doesn't know who's doing it. Someone's asking for Aizawa and Recovery Girl.

"Deku!" slurs Kacchan. His friend stumbles towards the mess. Kacchan outstretches his hand, just like the time in the river a decade ago. He shouldn't have. Izuku knows he doesn't deserve help. Especially not after now.

Izuku feels himself collapse, a puppet with its string cut, back onto the chair. Blackwhip recedes back into his arms before dissolving entirely. His splitting headache is washed away replaced with profound exhaustion. Aizawa-sensei must've used his quirk on him.

It's over, Izuku realizes. He hurt someone. He's hurt more in the past. Mob was right — why did he deserve to be a hero? Quirkless dekus should've kept their heads down. Their unrealistic dreaming only ends up impairing others.

It's tempting to plan for the future, but dragged down by the tendrils of lethargy, Izuku lets himself sleep.