sorry for the delay, college and medical shit are things and i've been poking at After the Rain again

"Wait here. Please try your best not to touch anything."

Moashi Juuzo, alias Centipeder, stepped through an unmarked door and left Izuku alone in the cramped waiting room.

...Try not to touch anything? Am I a toddler now? Equal parts annoyed and terrified (and by equal he of course meant "mostly the latter"), Izuku took a seat in one of the aged chairs; the chair, clearly unused to such attention, let out a creaky scream of terror and bowed ominously, threatening to collapse under his weight.

He opted for the chair next to it instead.

Unlike the ultra-modern, oft-televised offices of such prominent heroes as Endeavour or Best Jeanist, Sir Nighteye's single building was - in a word - shabby. The wallpaper, a drab olive pattern, had only grown duller with age, peeling here and there to reveal wood-paneled walls that Izuku suspected were several decades older than Sir Nighteye himself. A not-so-fine layer of dust coated every horizontal surface he could see, excluding the (unoccupied) receptionist's desk and most of the chairs, and the moment he was able to focus, his Quirk picked up on what appeared to be a large quantity of both dead spiders and - bizarrely - dried beans, all resting in the far corner of the room.

This place can't have been cleaned anytime within the past year.

After a frantic call to the Hero Bureau by his mother to confirm that Moashi Juuzo was, in fact, a hero and Sir Nighteye's sidekick, an anxious Izuku had voluntarily accompanied the man to the agency after being reassured that he would not be put in jail. Parked out front of his house had been an official-looking black luxury car bearing a golden seal on the driver's door, and in circling around to the passenger door, Izuku noted the colossal pair of wrought-metal glasses framing the headlamps.

There was a crash from the floor below, and he could distinctly hear a girl swearing; the next second, Centipeder returned, one antenna crooked in an upside-down vee-shape. "Sir Nighteye would like to see you personally," he informed Izuku. "Excuse me - I think Bubble Girl has broken another tea set."

Bubble...Girl? I've never heard that name before. Now that he thought about it, for all his love of heroics, he'd never really looked into sidekicks. They were full-fledged pro heroes in their own right, but as they'd chosen to work under other (typically higher-ranked) heroes, they didn't achieve nearly the same amount of recognition as someone who'd opened their own agency. Even if a sidekick was higher-ranked than an independent hero, the independent hero would retain their identity, while the sidekick would almost always be referred to as such, rarely identified by their hero name.

In the worst case, they might not even see direct combat. The number three hero, Hawks, was much too fast for any of his sidekicks to compete with, and Izuku remembered reading that they more or less spent their days cleaning up after him while he blazed ahead heedless of the messes he made.

"Midoriya-san?"

"Oh - um, sorry."

With a nod, Izuku scurried through the faded pine door. He expected it to stick, or jam, or creak - but to his surprise, the hinges were well-oiled and the door opened smooth as butter into a short hallway, lit only by a dim electric bulb in a fixture styled after an oil lamp. At the end of the hall lay another door, identical to the one he'd just gone through except for the ominous aura radiating from the other side of it.

He swallowed hard and pulled the second door open.

The scene that greeted him was something out of a noir film: the room was dark, and a tall, slender man sat still and bespectacled behind a carved oak desk, spider-like hands folded in front of him. With the moonlight to the other's back, Izuku couldn't make out his features, but his glasses reflected the bulb in the hallway beyond, giving the surreal impression that his very eyes glowed.

"Sir Nighteye...san," Izuku managed to stutter out, bowing.

The other didn't return the bow. "Sit," he commanded, voice neither high nor low and bearing the monotonous drone of a salaryman. It was, Izuku felt, a very average sort of voice. "And close the door."

Nodding, he straightened, fumbling behind him for the brass doorknob until his fingers closed around it and he was able to pull the door shut. For a moment, the room was lit only by moonlight - then lamps around the walls flared to life, and Izuku got his first good look at the hero known as Sir Nighteye.

The most surprising thing about the man was his hair, green with yellow streaks. He couldn't tell if it was dyed - with the development of Quirks, the concept of "natural" colors had flown out of the window and into the stratosphere, never to be seen again - but it certainly didn't fit the rest of Sir Nighteye's image, which matched his salaryman's voice to an uncanny T.

He's gotta stand out somehow, I guess.

Taking a seat, Izuku did his best not to slouch or look away, keeping his expression carefully neutral as he met the hero's glowering gaze and disapproving frown. He'd perfected this mask over the years as a sort of concessive defense mechanism: he knew that the way others saw him was rooted in his Quirk, and if he showed them the dead mask they expected to see, he wouldn't attract attention. On his end, he'd been able to push down his feelings of loneliness, of isolation, of misery, and thus been able to make it through school with near-top marks and no social life.

Nighteye offered his hand across the desk. A confused Izuku remembered enough about American culture to understand the gesture, and hesitantly, he shook it, letting go as quickly as he could. For the first time, the hero nodded, picking up a pen.

"Midoriya Izuku."

"Yes, that's...that's me. Sir."

"You used your Quirk to interfere in a standoff between the Shizuoka police force and an armed bank robber."

It wasn't a question.

"I...yeah."

"Why did you deem yourself worthy of resolving the situation?"

...What? 'Deem myself worthy'? There's nothing I can really think of to say to that, because… "I didn't," he replied, simply. "I was just there, and - "

"Clearly, you did, on some level," Sir Nighteye interrupted, voice deadly smooth. "I'll say it another way: what qualified you to operate in the capacity of a hero back there?"

"I - nothing, I just realized that I could do something," Izuku countered, a shaky edge creeping into his own voice. "People were getting hurt, and - "

"Irrelevant," the hero cut in again. "If you'd had anything other than the flukish luck of a rookie back there, more people could have gotten hurt, and much more severely to boot. Imagine, if you will, what would have happened if your Quirk hadn't had an advantage over that man's."

"Then I wouldn't have used it," he heard himself say, then winced at his own loose tongue. Deep breaths, he told himself. In, out. In, out. Stay calm.

Sir Nighteye blinked. It was a strange, delayed sort of blink, as if he'd been expecting to be surprised, braced for it, and subsequently been surprised by the existence of the surprise rather than the actual surprise. His recovery was quick, however, and he was back to his glare in no time. "And how would you have known you had the upper hand in that engagement?"

"I was able to watch him long enough to see that he would only raise his weapon when he stood still," Izuku explained, trying his hardest to focus on the facts at hand and not the anxiety threatening to burst out of his chest. "When he moved his hands, the air around him would change, and when he walked again, it would go back to normal. I don't know what exactly his Quirk is, but - "

"So you acted based on your own assumptions about the function of his Quirk."

"...I guess so, but - "

"What would waiting for qualified heroes to arrive have done?" Nighteye pressed, leaning forward just enough for the gesture to be intimidating. "Would it have made the situation worse somehow? If his Quirk only let him fire when stationary, then was intervening the correct choice to make?"

Am I really being told by a pro hero to just sit by and watch when people need help? Still, he wasn't Bakugou, wouldn't run his mouth when it wasn't necessary, and he bit the inside of his cheek to stop himself spitting out what was on his mind. Taking another deep breath, he tried a different track. "I'm sorry," Izuku sighed. "I understand that what I did was probably unnecessary, and definitely outside the law."

A couple of seconds elapsed in silence before Sir Nighteye narrowed his eyes, still holding the pen in one hand. "Saying sorry won't turn back time. If you had make a mistake that resulted in someone being killed, sorry wouldn't cut it."

"But...don't you think someone like All Might would say that's what makes a person truly heroic? Not being able to stop yourself from helping someone who needs it?"

For a moment, he couldn't quite believe he'd actually said it, and he could see the way Sir Nighteye's mouth twitched. "He has nothing to do with this," he replied, crisply. "I no longer have anything to do with All Might."

"You have a Silver Age poster of him on the wall, though," Izuku pointed out mildly. "I thought that meant you might still have some respect for him."

"Don't tell me who I do and do not have respect for!" Nighteye seethed; evidently, the topic of All Might was a sensitive one. Izuku was taken aback, but his mind and body had become disconnected enough for him to avoid flinching.

He didn't respond immediately, and with a sigh, Nighteye deflated a bit. "I apologize. That was a logical inference."

"Uh...apology accepted." Izuku shifted uncomfortably in his seat, unsure what else to say. When Nighteye spoke again, his voice was softer, calmer.

"Are you applying to Yuuei, Midoriya?"

"I guess I am," he shrugged, unfazed by the hero's sudden shift in attitude. "I haven't thought a lot about it. My Quirk isn't really suited for hero work. It scares people."

"And with that lack of conviction, you still saw fit to act the way you did earlier." This wasn't a question either. "I'll say it again. If you don't believe you can be a hero, then why act like one?"

Izuku didn't answer. To be honest, I don't know what to say to that, he mused. Why did I jump to act? Kaa-san was involved, but she wasn't in danger just then, the police were. Still, I couldn't just run and hide. In fact...I didn't even think about running away. "I don't know," he blurted out. "I didn't think I had a choice."

"There's always a choice," Sir Nighteye countered, and there was a weight to his words that Izuku couldn't quite interpret. "I'll tell you what. You're clearly not going to back down, so I'll tell you the same thing I've told every student and hero looking to work under me for the past ten years. If you're able to take this pen from me within the next three minutes, I will concede that perhaps you have the ability necessary to become a hero, and therefore were justified in your actions. If, on the other hand, you cannot manage this task, you will be issued an official warning. Do you understand?"

"I - yeah." Get the pen? What the hell kind of test is that? he wanted to ask, staring at the pen. It was an almost deceptively simple thing to ask of him.

"You may start - " and here Nighteye flicked his wrist, withdrawing a stopwatch from his sleeve as if he'd been waiting on this moment " - now."

Right on cue, the stopwatch began to tick.

It's like he planned our entire conversation right down to this second...that's not a coincidence.

His first grab for the pen told Izuku that he wasn't going to be able to catch Nighteye off guard or outspeed him; with a start, he realized that he couldn't remember Sir Nighteye's Quirk from any of the books he'd read as a child. If his hero name were anything to go by, it involved his eyes, but what about them? Does he see better at night? That doesn't seem like enough to become a hero...and one of All Might's sidekicks, no less.

He tried again, and once more, the pen was out of his reach before he'd even gotten a quarter of the way to it.

No, that's definitely not it. The way he's reacting...it's less acting in response than it is acting in advance.

Just to be certain, he tried a third time, only this time he swung his left hand in from the other side at the last possible second. Before he'd even fully brought his arm above the desk, Nighteye had already thrown the pen into the air and caught it again, avoiding both of his hands at once, and this confirmed Izuku's suspicions.

Somehow...he's able to see what I'm going to do next. That would also explain why he was able to set that stopwatch to start at exactly the right moment. A glance at said stopwatch told Izuku he had about two minutes remaining - two minutes to figure out a way to do something that Nighteye's Quirk wouldn't be able to see. If he's allowed to use his Quirk...I can use mine, right?

Trying not to make it too obvious, he stared hard at the pen, trying another two-sided grab to give the illusion of concentration when in reality his focus was on the world around him.

There were dead bugs pretty much everywhere, but Izuku had discovered long ago that their fragile forms decayed beyond what his Quirk could salvage within the span of a day or two. No matter what form he tried to give them, those cells wouldn't stay together, would fall apart under the force of a light breeze, and there was no way he'd be able to use them to get the pen…

But do I have to use them to get the pen? he mused. I can grab it myself...what I need is to put him into a position where I can do that.

It was a long shot, but it was the only one he had, so with another halfhearted lunge for the pen, he reached out to the dead things on the windowsill, behind the bookshelves, and in silence, the bodies of flies and spiders and beetles began to twitch. A moment later, they started to crawl, all towards one another, limbs and wings and shells mashing together into some kind of hellish thousand-legged ball of nightmares; within seconds, he'd assembled his weapon, an uncomfortably writhing mass of bug-flesh and body parts, and as Izuku lunged across the table, the thing took flight, careening unsteadily through the air to latch onto Nighteye's collar and split into half a dozen bundles of legs that crawled rapidly down the back of his shirt and up his arms.

Nighteye, who'd swung the pen to the side to keep it away from Izuku's lunge, jumped, his composure breaking entirely as he used his free hand to swat instinctively at his shoulder - and in that instant, Izuku was able to grab the pen, wrestling it from the hero's now-rigid grip and falling back into the chair.

He released his Quirk and sensed the horrors he'd created crumble to dust.

"Well then," Nighteye breathed. "That was certainly a...creative...solution, Midoriya." He looked more nauseated than anything, and without thinking, Izuku blurted out:

"Does that bug you?"

For a second, Nighteye looked like he couldn't quite believe what he was hearing - then, to Izuku's surprise, he started to laugh.

"That was single-handedly the worst contextual pun I have ever heard." He fixed his glasses, which had been knocked askew at some point in the last couple of minutes, then cleared his throat, brushing his hands over his suit jacket to straighten it. "Tell me - did you already know about my Quirk?"

"Ah - no, I couldn't remember," Izuku admitted. "What is it?"

"Foresight allows me to see into the future of any one subject at a time so long as I've made physical and eye contact with them," the hero explained, and suddenly all the little oddities of their meeting fell into place.

"So that handshake was to activate your Quirk?" Izuku guessed.

"Correct."

"And you knew every angle I'd try to get the pen from."

"I did."

Another thought occurred to him then. "But that also means you knew I would get it."

Nighteye dipped his head, and Izuku frowned.

"I could see that, yes. What I was unable to see were the means by which you would obtain the pen, and that was what piqued my interest."

I've never been more confused in my life. A guy that can see the future...does nothing to change it? Don't people with future sight in manga and games always do their best to change the fate they see? Furthermore...what kind of pro hero loses his composure because of a bug?

Too tired and confused to ruminate on the hero's motivations, all Izuku could think to do was nod dumbly, and Nighteye stood, gesturing for him to do the same. "I keep my word, so I'll let you go," he said. "But I must ask two things of you in exchange."

"What are those?" Izuku asked.

"The first - " and here Nighteye held up one finger " - is that you refrain from playing the hero again. The second - " another finger " - is that you apply to Yuuei."

"...That's it?"

"That's it. I told you earlier - if you were able to take the pen, I would acknowledge your potential. I'm doing that now. You were sharp enough to find an opening in my Quirk within two minutes and use yours to take advantage of it. Apply."

Nighteye didn't elaborate, and Izuku wasn't quite sure how to respond, so he decided to simply leave. With another brief bow, he made for the door and pulled it closed behind him as he left the room; when he was out of earshot, Nighteye let out a sigh and slumped back into his own chair. It was, perhaps, for the best that Midoriya not know the full extent of what Foresight had seen.

"That poor child."

On his way out, Izuku ran straight into a boy a couple of years older than him - or he would have, had the boy not simply phased out of existence entirely, disappearing without a trace. Dumbfounded, Izuku could only stare straight ahead until he felt a tap on his shoulder.

"You lost?" someone asked from behind him, and he whipped around to see the very person he'd just failed to collide with standing there with his hands on his hips and a grin on his face. "It's like a maze in here, isn't it?"

"Uh...not really, no. I was just leaving." One-on-ones were, without a doubt, the type of social interaction he hated the most. More often than not, his brain would simply short-circuit when his turn to speak came around, and the social pressure was enough to turn him off the conversation even if the subject matter was of interest to him. He much preferred group situations, where the ball he'd inevitably drop would be swiftly and naturally picked up by another.

Unfortunately, the other boy - tall, blonde, and built - was completely unfazed by Izuku's bland reply and complete lack of notable traits. "Ah, you're the kid Sir picked up off the news, right? Midorba-kun?" he asked, bright and chipper as a thrush in spring.

"Midoriya," Izuku corrected icily, surveying his social adversary. "Who are you?"

"Glad you asked! Togata Mirio, Yuuei intern for Sir Nighteye. Pleasure to make your acquaintance." Togata stuck out his hand for a handshake, much like Sir Nighteye, and when Izuku reluctantly reached up to reciprocate, his hand went straight through the other's. "Whoops," Togata chuckled. "Sorry 'bout that. Try again?"

The hand was solid this time, and Izuku was able to grasp it for as little time as he possibly could. Togata laughed again, and Izuku scrunched up the left side of his face. "Do you do this to everyone you meet?" he blurted out, dimly aware that he was most likely being rude. Not that it matters. We'll never see each other again, anyway.

"Ah - yeah. You're the first person not to be surprised by it, though," Togata replied, smile dwindling to a smaller, friendly one instead of the colossal beam he'd been sporting seconds ago. "So, how'd it go?"

"...How did what go?" Izuku asked, starting to feel a little dazed. Most people would have taken the hint by now and left me alone.

"The pen test! He gave you the pen test, right? He gives everyone the pen test when they come to work here, then says something like 'I knew this would happen' and leaves you wondering why he even tested you in the first place."

"I got the pen," he shrugged, feeling no need to elaborate further, but Togata would not be deterred.

"Oh, nice! How long did it take ya?"

"...A little under two minutes."

"Awesome!" A fist pump - a genuine, enthusiastic fist pump - accompanied this comment. "I almost ran out of time, ya know. I only managed to get it because I decided to phase right through the floor and spin on my way out so there was no way I couldn't grab it. He'd have probably kept it away from me if he'd just gotten out of his chair, though," Togata added, as an afterthought.

"Okay," Izuku shrugged. "I'm going home now. It was - "

Wait a second, he said something interesting a minute ago.

"Did you say you were an intern from Yuuei?" he asked, changing track at the speed of light.

"Oh, yeah. Were you looking to apply?"

"I guess - I mean, yeah," Izuku corrected, recalling Nighteye's speech on conviction. "I'm applying."

"Awesome!" - and Togata sounded like he meant it. "One thing, though. Your Quirk needs some kind of material to work with, right?"

"How did you know?"

"I was there when Sir was going over the news footage," the blonde chuckled. "I'm not sure how willing Yuuei would be to let you bring in an army of rats, though."

"It doesn't have to be a whole animal," Izuku pointed out, his fascination with Quirks giving rise to the very foreign urge to talk. "As long as it's comprised of dead cells, I can work however I need to within the number and type of cells available."

Togata was silent for a moment, evidently deep in thought, then - "So, could you theoretically make a skeleton dance?"

In spite of himself, Izuku almost laughed; the question was absolutely not the one he'd been expecting. "It depends. If it still has muscle attached, yes. If it's just a skeleton, I theoretically can, but I would have to do it by moving individual cells around and it probably wouldn't look right."

"Wow, so you can talk," the intern teased, grinning. "Still, that's pretty cool. I'm sure the support department at Yuuei would be willing to let you bring in some kind of equipment to help you with the practical part of the entrance exam."

Izuku frowned. "The practical?"

"You didn't know? They change it every year, but there's always a section designed to test your physical ability, plus whether or not you can think on your feet and use your Quirk in a combat or rescue situation. My friend was scrawny in middle school, so he had to spend two whole years getting in shape for it even though he's got a cool Quirk."

Two years!? There's only a year left before the exams, and…

Looking down at his own thin arms, Izuku shuddered. Togata laughed out loud.

"You've got time. Tell you what - I'll even help you out if you like. I can't promise I'll be free too much, but the least I can do is send you a copy of my friend's diet and exercise plan. Sound good?"

When he checked Togata's text message the next day, Izuku didn't think he could do it.

"Vegetables with every meal? Two daily servings of protein?"

It wasn't that he ate poorly - it was just that he didn't eat this well. The exercise schedule was even worse, with several hours of rigorous training each morning from the beginning and more of it as his body (hypothetically) improved. There was barely any time left for homework, and Izuku couldn't even begin to figure out where he'd fit in his accustomed long hours of doing nothing.

Even so, the more he thought over the previous day, the more plausible it seemed that he could, in fact, become a hero. Maybe he wouldn't be number one, but even becoming one at all was more than he'd originally hoped for.

Speaking of hope...is that what this feeling is?

He was up front with his mother about what had transpired at Sir Nighteye's office, and to his surprise, she'd been overjoyed and more than willing to help him with the diet the intern had recommended…

...which was how, a week later, Izuku found himself snacking on a piece of dried seaweed after lunch, squeezing a grip trainer with his other hand and enjoying the feel of a cold towel on the back of his neck. It had taken him a while to actually put the cut of mackerel in his mouth - memories of childhood Quirk mishaps abound - but the taste was fine, and he managed not to activate Necromancy on it, a feat highly conducive to eating normally.

He'd started the suggested workout routine on Sunday, taking care to head out for a run before his morning shower each school day; to his surprise, despite sacrificing two hours of sleep on Monday (he'd gone to bed too late), by the middle of the week he'd started to feel more awake and alert in class than he could remember being since primary school.

For a borderline hikikomori like himself, the exercise was difficult, but he found that a pair of headphones and several hours' worth of podcasts or radio helped him take his mind off of the burning feeling in his limbs and his chronic shortage of breath. The routine was strict, but not impossibly so, and as the days dragged by, he began slowly but surely to improve. Maybe it was only running a couple more seconds before he tired, maybe it was only lifting another pound, maybe it was only jumping another inch - but each little milestone brought Izuku a sense of satisfaction he couldn't ever remember feeling. For the first time in his life, he'd started working at something, started seeing results, and the sensation was intoxicating.

Towards the end of July, three months in and right in the middle of summer break, he received another message from Togata.

Ready to start on your Quirk?

Izuku stopped in the middle of his run to stare at his phone.

what? he texted back. i already know how to use my quirk

Could you use it to fight off a human opponent without any materials? came the reply.

no, Izuku had to admit.

Where are you?

He'd just been running past Dagobah municipal beach when his phone buzzed, so he texted back: dagobah

Be there in a flash!

Following was an emoji of a running man. Izuku shook his head and turned to survey the junk lying strewn about the dirty sand; the beach was commonly used as a dumping ground, and the local government took no action to stop it aside from a poorly-made sign that read NO DUPMING. It was a mark of how little the officials cared that the misspelling had been around long enough to become something of a local legend among children, where the Dupming was a mythical garbage-beast from China and the sign was meant as a ward against its presence.

"What kind of monster listens to signposts?" Izuku snorted aloud. "For that matter, what kind can read them in the first place?"

"Well, depends on if you wanna call villains monsters," another voice piped up from behind him. Izuku didn't have to turn around to know who it was.

"Some are," he shrugged. "You got here fast."

"I was only half a kilometer away, actually!" Togata chuckled. "Pretty funny, huh?"

"No."

He'd only met up with Togata a few times since that day in April, mostly to check in on both his fitness regimen and the Yuuei application process, and as far as Izuku was concerned, their relationship was nothing more than acquaintances. Togata was friendlier, going so far as to call him "ol' buddy ol' pal" the last time they'd seen one another in person. Izuku hadn't responded.

"I see you haven't changed a bit," the blonde observed, not unkindly. "Ah, well - how's the workout routine treating you?"

"Yes."

"Great!" Togata plowed on. "So - your application's in, right?"

"Yeah."

"They send you any info on the exams yet?"

"Nothing in particular," Izuku shrugged. "Just the date and to be prepared for an entry-level combat simulation."

"Are you prepared for an entry-level combat simulation?" the other prompted. Izuku shrugged again, and Togata pinched the bridge of his nose. "That's what I thought. Is there anything nearby you can use as a weapon?" he went on, changing track, and Izuku took a deep breath, focusing on his Quirk.

There.

With an uncomfortable rattling sound, a dozen dead rats came scampering out of the junkyard that was Dagobah Municipal Beach; when they reached Izuku, their flesh melted off, leaving only their bones intact. Before Togata's horrified eyes, the twelve skeletons fused seamlessly into a one-pound bone rod, which Izuku picked up without hesitation.

"That's what you came up with?" Togata asked, raising one eyebrow at the rat slurry. It occurred to Izuku that he'd never seen what Necromancy was capable of.

"I mean, I could have put a point on it," Izuku reasoned. "But stabbing you probably wouldn't be a good idea."

"That's...that's not what I meant at all," he sighed. "Y'know what - good enough. Take a swing at me. Let me see your form before we get to work on it."

Izuku complied, winding up for a diagonal swipe at Togata's shoulder; he expected the bone rod to phase right through his Quirk-enhanced body, but instead, Togata reached up and blocked the hit with his forearm. Despite Izuku's newfound fitness, the other boy's arm barely budged an inch under the force of the blow, and in the moment before Izuku pulled the rod away, Togata flipped his wrist around to seize the weapon and yanked it straight out of Izuku's hands.

"Predictable start to your attack," he commented. "A windup like that will give anyone who's paying attention time to react. Your swing was a little clumsy, too - oh, and you were staring at my shoulder like you wanted to have it for dinner! After impact, you also kept still for too long, which let me get ahold of your, uh…what do you even call something like this?"

Izuku thought for a moment. "A boner?"

Unexpectedly, Togata laughed. "Wow, Midoriya-san. I didn't think you had it in you to make those kinds of jokes."

Wait, what jokes? Izuku wanted to ask, but his erstwhile sparring partner was already moving on.

"Anyway, I'm not a certified combat instructor, but I am a second year hero student, so I like to think I know a thing or two about fighting," the blonde continued, grinning as he cracked his knuckles. "I promise I'll go easy on ya - just keep an eye on what I'm doing, okay?"

"What are you - " Izuku began, but in an instant, Togata slipped into the ground, and almost at the same time, something poked Izuku hard in the back of the head; whirling on the spot, he had just enough time to register a pair of fingers shooting straight for his eyes to throw his hand in front of his face - only Togata's hand phased harmlessly through Izuku as his other hand, curled into a fist, socked him gently in the midriff.

"In the space of two seconds, I've had three chances to take you down," Togata said cheerfully. "If I had actually hit you on that first poke, you would have been too disoriented to even react to the second hit."

"What you're saying is that I suck at fighting," Izuku concluded, reasonably, ignoring the fact that his senior was now completely naked.

"That's a pretty harsh way to put it. I was in the same position when I was your age, though, so don't worry too much about it."

"Then how did you get into Yuuei?"

"It was kind of dumb luck," the other told him, putting his clothes back on. "The exam that year happened to be a free for all, students versus robots, and because my Quirk lets me phase through physical attacks, I was pretty much invincible against them. All I had to do was reach inside and tear out the wiring and they shut right down. Still wasn't anywhere near the top of the class, but I got in!"

That's true. I don't have to be number one. I just have to get into the top thirty-six, Izuku mused, recalling what he'd read while researching the application process ("Yuuei's hero program admits two classes of twenty per year, with four of those students admitted via recommendation"). That's doable, right?

"What do you suggest I do?" he asked.

"Well, you don't need to be a martial artist, but it would help if you learned the basics. There are gonna be kids there who have been training for this for years, and you at least need to be in between them and the ones who think they'll be able to coast by on having a strong Quirk."

Bakugou Katsuki immediately came to mind.

"So," Togata continued, "Sir says you're pretty analytical. What did you notice about the way I attacked you compared to the way you attacked me?"

"Wait, he still talks about me?" Izuku interrupted, raising one eyebrow, and Togata laughed.

"I mentioned I'd be coming to give you some basic combat instruction over summer break is all. He seemed glad you were taking my advice to heart. I think he was worried you weren't gonna take Yuuei seriously."

Well, that's a valid concern. Up until that evening, I was treating the application like a courtesy instead of a goal. As for the way Togata-san fought… "One, you didn't attack from the front," Izuku noted, holding up one finger. "You went for my blind spot and forced me to waste time turning around as well as getting in a free hit. Two - " a second finger " - you didn't hesitate between attacks, and judging by both your speed and what you said to me about being predictable, you deliberately eliminated any unnecessary movements to minimize any chance that I might be able to react. Three...you were aiming for weak points instead of going for a solid hit, weren't you?"

"If only you fought as fast as you talk," joked Togata. "That's pretty spot on, though. I'm surprised."

"I used to play a lot of fighting games," Izuku blurted out. "So I noticed your lack of telegraphed motion right away. The first and third were a lot more obvious, though."

"Who'd have thought being an otaku would come in handy in combat?" the other teased. "I never could get the hang of those games. It's a lot more fun in real life, anyway."

For the first time, Izuku noticed something guarded in the intern's eyes, but it was gone as soon as it came, and he was left wondering if he'd simply imagined it. Togata was always so open that it hadn't even occurred to Izuku that perhaps he too was simply hiding the things that bothered him, just in a different fashion.

"Anyway," his temporary tutor went on, "it'd be a good idea to figure out how to use your Quirk in combat, too. The bone weapon thing is a good idea if you can work out a way to make it a little less gross."

"Wait, what's wrong with it? It's just a baton."

"Midoriya-san, it's not the weapon that's the problem...it's the fact that you just melted a bunch of dead animals to take their bones. Unless you're planning on becoming an underground hero, you gotta focus a little more on your image, too."

Oh, it's the whole...rat slurry thing. "That's fair," he conceded. "I, uh, don't really think about my Quirk being gross anymore. I guess it is if you think about it, but I had to get over that part a long time ago."

Togata laughed again. "Just try not to rely so much on smothering criminals in decaying flesh. Otherwise I'll feel terrible for whoever your cleanup crew is."

"My...cleanup crew?"

"Yeah, a lot of heroes don't really have the time to clean up after their own fights, so their agencies typically have dedicated teams where one member marks the location of incidents as they happen and the rest clear away debris and stuff."

"Oh, so like Hawks's sidekicks?" Izuku asked.

"I hear he's a special case. He's so fast that he needs a cleanup crew of actual heroes or else he'll leave a trail of chaos and broken windows across Japan. But!" Togata added, "that's beside the point. We need to work out a way for you to fight without rat slurry because one, it's gross, and two, in the event there's nothing dead around, you'll be useless."

Izuku was silent a moment.

"I could punch things?" he suggested.

Pinching the bridge of his nose, Togata sighed, though Izuku could see the hint of a smile behind his exasperation. "Midoriya-san, you literally just put together a weapon on the spot using what you had. Is there anything else you could create when nothing's died nearby?"

"Not really. My Quirk is limited to dead things."

"Well, if you think about it, lots of stuff is dead," Togata reasoned. "Like wood - that's just dead trees. Clothes are just made of dead plants and stuff."

"It's not that simple. I can't control everything that used to be alive, just things that were recently alive."

Togata frowned. "How recent is recent?"

"It depends on the subject," Izuku explained. "Insects decay too quickly - I get maybe a day on them before they just fall apart under any kind of force, and another day or two before the cells are too far gone to control. Small animals last anywhere from a week to three weeks depending on the weather. Larger ones…" A pause, then a confession: "I've never reanimated anything larger than a cat," he admitted. "If I were a villain, I would have a lot more opportunities to work this stuff out, but...I couldn't bring myself to hurt an animal like that."

He thought back to the caterpillar, where everything about his social life had started to spiral downhill, and bit his lip.

"I'm glad to hear that, though," Togata offered, and Izuku thought his smile seemed just a bit warmer. "I'd have...well, let's just say if you'd been that kind of person, we wouldn't be having this conversation. Anyway, uh - how about bones?"

"What about them?"

"How long can you work with those?"

"I'm not sure. I've never come across a bone that I couldn't use my Quirk on. They're kind of useless without muscle tissue, though."

Togata pointed to the bone rod.

"It can't be that useless if you chose to use it for a weapon," he pointed out.

"Well, bone is five times stronger than steel by weight," Izuku returned, mildly. "Steel is just a lot denser."

Togata bit back an a lot like you and decided to go for the direct approach. "Why don't you apply to bring in some bone for support equipment?" he asked. "There are plenty of students who have Quirks that need some kind of assistance for general use. One of the guys in my class has a Quirk that lets him use squid ink and tentacles, but the poor dude can't breathe air, so he has to wear a fish bowl on his head. Doesn't stop him being doing hero work or being popular with the girls!"

Wait, a weird Quirk that's popular with girls? Izuku may have been denser than a neutron star, but he was still a fourteen-year-old boy, and the news that such an unpleasant Quirk could actually function as a boon put an idea into his head. "Hey, now that you mention it, girls like kittens and stuff, right?" he blurted out, mind racing a mile a minute in entirely the wrong direction.

"Midoriya-san, please don't bring a box full of dead kittens to class."

Damn, how'd he know? "Right," he said instead. "You're suggesting I bring in a bunch of bones. Where am I gonna get those?"

"A butcher shop?" Togata proposed. "They don't need the bones for the most part. Sometimes they sell the big ones for dogs to chew on, but if you can find a butcher who's willing to let you go dumpster diving, that'd be perfect."

Izuku tapped two fingers against his chin. "That's not a bad idea at all," he agreed, finally catching on. "So I could bring in a pile of bones and use them to fashion weapons?"

"Yep! You could start training right now, even. Just take some of your exercise periods and use them to work out how to handle whatever kind of weapons you're thinking of. You have about seven months to prepare for the entrance exam, so I think you should limit yourself to just one or two types and get good with them. That'll be enough to get you through."

"I've never handled a weapon in my life, though," Izuku told him. "Won't that be an issue?"

"That is a predicament," Togata agreed. "Tell ya what - I'll help you get a handle on the basics first, then ask Sir if he knows any civilian dojos that teach weapon skills. Sound good?"

Izuku shrugged one shoulder. "Sure."

On his way home a couple of hours later (Togata had insisted on sparring until Izuku could land a solid hit, though Izuku felt that his temporary trainer was taking it easy on him), he reflected on just what Togata had suggested.

"Bone weapons, huh?" he murmured aloud. "Never really thought about doing that before."

He'd undoubtedly been influenced by the image of necromancers in media as summoners of the undead, powerful mages who could reanimate swarms of minions from either the corpses of their fallen foes or seemingly nowhere at all, whose death magic could fill ancient bones with an unlife so powerful they could move unaided - but who were weak physically and often vulnerable when some divine warrior inevitably cut down their revenant army.

That necromancer, he was certain, was what had guided his own Quirk usage - but Quirks weren't magic, no matter how close they seemed. Izuku didn't know why Necromancy worked, but he had a handle on how, and it was limited enough that he'd need to fight for himself and use the things he reanimated for support rather than the other way around.

It's not like anything has changed with my Quirk, though, he reminded himself. I shouldn't forget that I can still play the summoner if there are enough dead things around. Switching to Quirk-aided fighting is just how I can cover for the situations where there aren't.

The next morning, he began his search for a butcher shop - quite literally.

"Ni...ku...ya," he muttered, keying in the kana on his phone. The search popped up in an instant, and according to the map, the nearest butcher was roughly half an hour's walk northeast.

With a sigh - I need to go for a run anyway, he reasoned - he headed for the bathroom to fix his bedhead with the tried-and-true method of running a comb through his hair a couple of times. His mother was at work, so he left a note on the table: going to get bones, be back later.

In retrospect, it was not a reassuring note.

After double-checking that he'd indeed put on pants, Izuku slipped on his trainers and took off at a light jog, double-checking the map on his phone at every turn to make sure he didn't get lost and end up in another dumpster. To his relief, he actually made it to the shop without having to turn around (or getting turned around), but that relief changed to disbelief when he saw the neon CLOSED glaring an angry red at him from the door.

Well, that's a pain, but I can't exactly blame the butcher. It's not like he's obligated to be here whenever I want him to. Izuku had only just accepted his defeat when a voice like a thousand knives grinding through wet meat broke through the humid summer morning and straight into his inner ears.

"The hell ya buyin' a pork chop at five-thirty in the morning for, kid?"

"No," he replied, before he'd even processed what was happening. Immediately, he kicked himself - what if they know another butcher who's open? "Uh, sorry. I'm not looking for pork chops."

"Well, I got plenty of other chops, too. I usually get here early to set everything up before I open, but I can't turn down a kid who woke up before dawn on summer vacation just to check out the shop."

"Wait, you're the butcher?" he asked, turning around for the first time that day. "That's great. Give me your bones, please."

The butcher, a hulking woman with light hair in a traditional bun and a jaw square enough to be used as a carpenter's level, raised an eyebrow. "Only if you give me your meat. Then we'll be even."

"Aren't you supposed to have meat here already?" Izuku asked, baffled. "I don't have any meat. I don't think most people carry meat around." Wait, do they?

To his surprise, she just laughed, a booming laugh that carried around the block and echoed off the storefront. "Relax, kid, I'm makin' a joke. You looking for stock bones?" she asked, strong fingers fishing in her apron pocket; a moment later, she extracted a brass key and, with surprising dexterity, unlocked the door to the shop with it. "Ladies first."

Izuku waited patiently for her to go inside. When she didn't, he assumed there'd been some misunderstanding. "I'm a boy," he informed her.

The woman erupted in a shrieking cackle that undoubtedly broke several noise ordinances. "That's the joke, kid. Just give me one sec and I'll see if I've got what you're lookin' for."

He waited patiently again as she strolled through the doorway, her muscular frame barely making it through. After a couple of minutes, she came back, carrying a brown paper bag with some unpleasant stains on the bottom.

"This what you're after?" she asked, holding it up. Izuku accepted it in silence and looked inside, but the bones she'd found were far too small for his purposes.

"Do you have anything bigger?" he returned, offering the bag, and she frowned as if he'd said something strange or unpleasant.

"How big are we talkin'?"

"Do you have any femurs?"

"Kid, you're not messin' with me, are ya?" The butcher seemed wary, but Izuku couldn't for the life of him figure out why.

"No," he said plainly. "I just need components to create a boner with."

There was a moment of stunned silence before she reached for the phone. Izuku thought she might be contacting another butcher in the area, so he said nothing until she said "Hello, police?" at which point it clicked for him.

"Wait!" he yelped. An encounter with the police is the last thing I need! "I'm not going to hurt anyone with it! I'm applying to Yuuei next year and I need it to practice fighting for the entrance exam!"

"What kind of fighting are you doing!?" she hollered back, a mixture of confusion and horror on her face.

"Just basic techniques with a staff, why?"

"How does that involve - what you just said!?"

"My Quirk lets me manipulate dead matter, so I thought I'd be able to use it to turn bones into a staff that I can use my Quirk on...I swear I'm not planning on hurting anyone with it!"

Comprehension dawned on the butcher's face, and like Togata, she burst out laughing. "Kid, you gotta find a new name for that weapon. Never mind," she added into the phone. "I'm pretty sure he's harmless - just a little too innocent."

Still wondering what exactly was funny, Izuku decided that he'd just go with the flow. "So, do you have any?"

"'Course I do - meat's gotta come from somewhere, and the bones can be used for other things. Regular folk don't usually buy the big ones - it's usually restaurants n' all that - so I don't keep 'em on display. How many ya need?"

Izuku thought about it. "Can I see them first?"

Begrudgingly, she allowed him to follow her into the back room, where various cuts of meat hung or dried; in the far corner, by the back door, he spotted a large plastic container full to the brim with neatly-arranged bones of a fairly uniform size. Unprompted, he reached for one, but was stopped by a firm hand on his shoulder. Another appeared in front of his face, offering him a pair of disposable latex gloves.

"In case you decide you don't want 'em, I don't want 'em gettin' contaminated by anything," the butcher explained, tone not unkind.

"Oh. Sorry."

Hands now covered, he pulled out the first bone; it was much heavier than he'd anticipated, but not difficult to lift, and with the butcher's permission, he placed it on one of the metal countertops at the edges of the room. He placed a second bone at the end of the first, then a third at the end of that one before he was satisfied.

The bone was usable, strong, different from the dusty or decaying material he was used to working with. Carefully, he separated any last remains of flesh or fat or organic slime from the bone, letting it fall to the cold steel with a series of wet spattering sounds, then took a deep breath of air tinged with a scent he could only describe as meat. Five fingers spread and pointed at the bones, he gave the command:

Fuse.

Before the butcher's disbelieving eyes, the three bones blurred, shifted, melted, and by the time she'd processed what she was seeing, they'd formed a single, long rod, tapered at either end. Satisfied, Izuku picked the weapon up, a smile spreading across his face, and gave it an experimental twirl in the open space of the butcher shop.

Perfect.

It wasn't a permanent weapon, but it was good for what he intended to use it for, and that was what mattered. Only when the butcher cleared her throat did he realize that he'd have to pay for the bones he'd just fused.

"That's fifty-four hundred yen, kid. Each."

Shit. "They're that much?" he asked, his elation vanishing on the spot. His allowance, while scarcely spent, was not high enough to withstand a sudden hit of over sixteen thousand yen.

Fortunately for Izuku, the butcher was a kind woman. "I'll let you have them for free under one condition," she chuckled. "That Quirk of yours - can it separate meat from the bone?"

"Yes," he replied, a little confused. "It works on a cellular level, so - "

"How old are you?"

"I turned fifteen two weeks ago."

"Oh, perfect. That means I can legally hire you."

To his credit, Izuku managed to grasp her intentions. "So you'll let me have the bones if I work off the money they cost?" he guessed, and she nodded.

"If you wanna work here part-time, I'll pay ya for it. Lord knows I could use another hand around here. My Quirk makes me a whiz with a knife, but even I'm not enough to keep up with everything sometimes. I told ya, I come in early to get set up, but I'm willing to let those bones go if you help me out."

As it turned out, "setting up" mainly involved slicing the day's prime cuts and arranging them up front in a way that was visually appealing. To Izuku, this was simple work; all the butcher had to do was lay out the unprocessed meat in front of him, and within a couple of minutes, he'd managed to extract the bones, fat and offal, leaving only a pile of perfectly-cut steaks. The first time he did this, his erstwhile business partner clapped her hands with glee.

"Damn, kid, you've really got a knack."

"I've had a lot of practice," he shrugged. "I've never really had any friends, so I've had a lot of time to myself."

"How come?" she asked him, bluntly, and he smiled a little.

"You're the first person who's seen my Quirk and hasn't thought it was disgusting. Who'd want to be friends with a kid who can raise the dead?"

The butcher was silent, and when he glanced back at her, her expression was unreadable. A little confused, Izuku decided not to address it, choosing instead to lay the steaks out in the display case up front.

The sun had started to peek over the horizon by the time they finished, but the butcher assured him that she'd have been working well into the morning without his help and let him go for the day. "I can't make you hang around, since you're not legally workin' here, but you've saved me a hell of a lot of time," she said. "Just come back sometime, alright? I'll have a place for ya if you're lookin' for work."

"Okay. Thank you very much."

He bowed respectfully, then took his leave, hoping that he'd be able to make it home in time to see his mother off to work. The bone staff, separated into three pieces and tied together with a length of twine, rattled in his hand as he walked, and he couldn't help but laugh a little.

In just three and a half months, his drifting, aimless life had taken a turn towards heroism - something he'd previously treated as an idle fantasy - and despite the problems it had caused him in the past, he couldn't help but feel glad that his Quirk was unusual enough to attract the attention of one of All Might's former sidekicks. Overall, he felt better than he could remember feeling in a long time, and as he went to send a photograph of his new equipment to Togata, it also occurred to him that for the first time, he had someone he could - quite possibly - call a friend.

After a moment's deliberation, he added a message to the photograph.

Thank you.

Izuku didn't hesitate to send the message. It was long overdue.