Giri is the concept of moral duty. All people have duties: to their families, to their employers, to their allies, to their contracts, and to themselves. Giri is to hold these myriad duties in balance, to grant them each the weight they deserve without neglecting any other. A good father does not neglect their children in favour of their work, regardless of their position, for to do so is to fail their moral obligation to those they sired. Even his Imperial Majesty balances his family with his duties to the realm.

—Excerpt from 'The Pillars of Moral Heroics' by Ryo Asuka and annotated by Fumikage Tokoyami.

The sun is close to setting when Izuku sees Tokoyami. The avian boy wears loose black clothing, a bit worn but very likely what he uses for training. Izuku wore much the same with his green tracksuit.

"I didn't think you'd come," Izuku admits.

Tokoyami huffs. "Had I not wished to come, I would have conveyed my thoughts directly. I do not have any obligation to watch the children today."

"Children?"

"Do not worry overly much about it. What was your intention with this training?"

"I kinda didn't think it through all the way." He wrings his hands nervously at Tokoyami's disappointed gaze. "I-I mean, I just didn't know anything really about your quirk and I kinda need to if I want to figure everything out and—"

"Worry not on it," Tokoyami interrupts, one hand raised. He sits, cross-legged, on the sand. "Sit. You are too nervous for any training to be effective.

He flushes, still comfortable. "Well…"

"I did not mean it as an admonishment. It is merely the nature of any power the traverses the dark. Without control, we are dangers to those we care for."

Izuku sits as Tokoyami does, placing the back of his hands on his knees. The position is uncomfortable, not one he's used to.

"Anyone can have a dangerous quirk. It doesn't make us a danger."

"That is not how the world will see it. The nature of our powers means they will see a villain first should we lose control." His red eyes are like embers in the dark. "People fear the dark, as they rightly should. You wield the darkness directly. I have a demon. Will they be as forgiving to us as say, a person with a strengthening quirk?"

A frown graces his face. "But we have laws to protect against that."

"We have laws against discrimination over mutations." Tokoyami cocks his head, ruffling his feathers. "Not everyone follows these laws."

"That's not-it's not—"

"Fair? Hardly. But it is the way of the world. Very many are put in prison for hurting others when their quirks manifest. Do you think that the imperial heir could not have walked away free after what he did to Taiwan?"

"What he did made him a villain," Izuku says strongly. "Even the crown bows to the law."

Tokoyami makes a sound of acknowledgement. "Regardless of the atrocity, can you truly say his anger was without cause? I hurt others by listening to the whispers of my demon. I do not claim his actions just or even his retribution proportionate, but he acknowledged his moral failing by committing seppuku." He shakes his head. "It is those emotions that we must never give in to. It is why I meditate. And why I shall teach you how to meditate. We must strive to never become as the villains who purged Shikoku."

"I've never been good at the whole empty my mind thing."

"Neither have I, and I have trained for years." He pauses, assessing Izuku. "You don't have to sit like that if you find it uncomfortable."

Izuku shifts and kneels in kiza, grateful as his right leg has already gone numb. This position, though, he can maintain for hours.

"What now?"

"Now, close your eyes. Focus on your breathing."

He does so. Inhale, hold, exhale. Inhale, hold, exhale.

"Do not force a pattern. That is not the point."

"This would be easier if you told me the point."

He hears Tokoyami click his mouth shut. "The point is to focus on what is. You breathe all the time. Listen to your body simply be. It is yours and it is. Just as the waves and the sunlight and the cold breeze. These things are real. They are not the words of a demon trying to corrupt you. They are not the voice of your failings and guilt."

Put like that, it makes a bit more sense. He breathes and lets it be. There is a pattern there, one waiting for him to decipher. His initial inhale is always sharp. He breathes again. A shuddering pause follows. Another breath. A long inhale at the end of a single inhale.

He holds it, sometimes for a second or maybe two or three. It seems to be always just as long as he needs it to be. It doesn't follow the shrill screams of something burning in his mind or the echo of monsters singing the end of all life.

And each exhale is always slow, drawn out. It is never rushed, even if there are resounding footfalls in his mind.

"Do you understand, now?" Tokoyami says, breaking him from his reverie and dispelling the feeling of… not peace or acceptance, but maybe just the lessening of annoyance.

"It is easy to lose yourself and be uncertain of what is and what isn't," Tokyami continues, "and whilst the particulars of your situation are different from mine, some things are inescapable. Sand is coarse. Water is wet. The living breathe. The wind does not whisper sweet nothings."

"I guess," he says, not giving any attention to the monsters hiding in the darkness. To do so is to invite them in. "Do you do this often?"

"Daily. Especially when Dark Shadow is crueller than usual."

Izuku snorts, raising his hands defensively when Tokoyami glares. "I-I'm sorry, but the name's a bit redundant. I mean shadows are just different gradations of darkness."

He would know. He could point at each of the seventeen gradations in the area, could give them each separate names were he inclined for they are as different as green is to ultraviolet. And even if there is a shadow writhing and bubbling, Izuku ignores it for to give it attention would be to permit whatever hides there to glimpse the real world.

"I was a child when I made that name. I see no reason to change the name."

"I've never met it," he says. "Dark Shadow."

"You know he does not like you."

"I do, but I can't do anything about that if I never speak to him."

Tokoyami tilts his head, considering. "As you say." He takes a deep breath.

Something dark rushes from his torso. It is large and wrong to look at, a piece of impossible matter brought in the real. Burning eyes of yellow pierce him with their intensity, judging, assessing, and finding him wanting. It smells of shadows at dawn and formless smoke and, weirdest of all, old roots.

You, the creature—no, Dark Shadow—snarls.

"Dark Shadow!" Tokoyami snaps, his posture rigid with tension. "Calm yourself."

The creature turns its attention back to its master. You brought me out at dusk, crow prince. Do you think a spineless slave like you can hold me?

"You're not very nice," Izuku says, forcing a veneer of calm.

And you stink of carrion corpses. It moves to loom over Izuku, its large claws twitching in anticipation.

"I took a shower this—"

Dark Shadow rushes him, claws raised to eviscerate him.

"No!" he hears Tokoyami scream.

Izuku rolls back just out of reach and draws thick ropes of dark matter from his shadow. The ropes rush forward at his command and wrap around the creature's claws. They break a moment later, but that is long enough.

He lights the flare. Bright light illuminates the beach, almost blinding. Dark Shadow shrinks, whimpering and scuttling away from Izuku as he approaches. It hides behind Tokoyami, terrified.

"Okay. You really don't like me." Izuku forces a smile for Tokoyami. "I'm fine. Really."

The tension bleeds out of Tokoyami, slowly but ever so present. He shakes, perhaps stress or perhaps tiredness.

"He's never done that before," the boy says quickly, an edge of hysteria to his words. "He doesn't just attack people."

"Maybe you should sit down." He throws the flare to the side, sitting. The light is bright enough that Dark Shadow is still small, but at least now he can see Tokoyami without squinting.

Tokoyami falls to the ground in a heap, taking deep breaths.

"You okay?"

"Just… exhaustion." Dark Shadow wraps protectively around Tokoyami's neck, glaring at Izuku. "There is only so much energy to go between us, and I used much of mine in trying to restrain Dark Shadow."

Betrayer, Dark Shadow says weakly.

"Stop it," Tokoyami snaps, taking a deep breath. He watches, mesmerised, as Dark Shadow slowly seeps through his clothing and disappear.

"He really doesn't like me."

"I… I warned you," Tokoyami says slowly.

Izuku shrugs. "You did. Does Dark Shadow always drain that much of your energy?" he asks suddenly.

"Only when we don't work in concert."

"Right. And do you ever let him out at home, just to like do stuff."

"Yes. It is sentient. To chain it forever would be cruel." Tokoyami frowns. "You have reason to ask these questions."

"Just a hypothesis. Using my shadows makes me tired because it takes a lot of concentration." He raises his hand, still bruised from using One For All yesterday. "But using the strengthening part makes me physically tired. They operate on two different sources of energy."

"You're saying Dark Shadow draws on my energy exclusively, and not his own."

"Or maybe the other way around. Anyway, it's just a wild guess."

"One that might have merit." He looks to his hands. "Perhaps it is fate that I met you."

"There's no such thing." Izuku looks to the side where the shadows threaten to bubble over. "There's no one writing my story and deciding my every move."

"You don't find the possibility intriguing. Who is to say our lives are not a tapestry of pre-ordained decisions? Can it be anything other than destiny that two people with quirks of a similar nature went to the same class and circumstance forced them together?"

"I don't like the idea. I have the right to make my own choices. There isn't some god out there deciding my every action." The further he looks at the darkness, the further he can see teeth that drip with rainbow ichor of dead gods. "Even gods die."

"Then they were not true gods."

Izuku laughs suddenly. "Maybe not but we still get to make our own choices. If we didn't then what's the point in trying. Wouldn't you just be dragged to the darkness no matter how much you fought if that was your destiny? If you think you can change then it's hypocritical to believe in destiny."

Tokoyami hums. "Perhaps there is merit to your words. But I do not believe it can only be random chance. I could have just as easily gone to Shiketsu. In fact, I did receive an offer from them, yet I chose UA."

"Fine, whatever. We can disagree on this some more. Tomorrow?"

Tokoyami nods. "Tomorrow, yes. I believe there is much I can learn from you, Midoriya."

-TDB-

Izuku walks off the train, Shinsou beside him. The boy is quiet, not particularly odd, but there is a weight to his silence today. It takes him a long time to work up the effort to speak up.

"Is your cat alright?" he asks. Hastily, he adds, "You're just, um, looking a bit upset."

Shinsou stops and purses his lips. "That isn't why… and no, it's not your fault before you even go there. You're not the main character of this story."

Izuku feels his cheeks warm because that was exactly where he was going. "Sorry."

A warm hand comes to rest on his shoulders. Looking up, he sees Shinsou smiling, but there is no true warmth to it.

"Don't worry, I'm just being a bit insecure." The hand nudges him forward gently, and Izuku starts walking. "I'm just... we're friends, right?

A deep pit settles in his stomach. "Is this-are you…" He shakes his head, steeling his nerves. "Do you not want to be friends anymore?"

Shinsou's grip tightens, and the pit in his stomach deepens as Shinsou stays silent. What did I do? he thinks as they enter the gates.

"I should be asking you that," Shinsou says finally. "You haven't really been around recently. Even when you're with me, you're barely there."

Izuku frowns. "I'm sorry?" he ventures, uncertain.

"I get you went through some shit, but can you at least try to let me help? You spent more time with bird-brain than you do with me." He glances at Izuku sideways. "You think I don't know why you go home late all the time."

One exhale. Pause for two seconds. Inhale.

"That's not-you can't just take it like that." He scratches at the burn scar before he can realise the action. "I-I'm not ignoring you. But, you just won't get it."

"You've never even tried," Shinsou says, louder now.

"Why do I have to tell you everything?"

"Because that's. What. Friends do."

Every word is clipped, dripping with anger. Izuku steps back, left arm trembling. "Shinsou, just calm—"

"No, you do not get to tell me that. Not without being honest."

Izuku wants to reply, honestly at that. But no words escape his lips. They can't, not when Shinsou's eyes are dark with anger.

Someone grabs him and pulls him back. He nearly stumbles as Kirishima steps in front of him, shoulders tense and back straight.

"Maybe, you need to take a step back," Kirishima says, cheerful in a way that doesn't feel at all true. "It's not very manly. Come back when you've calmed down."

He can almost feel Kirishima's sharp grin, all sharp teeth.

Shinsou says nothing. The tension rises until the boy sighs. "Fine," he says, stalking past the two of them, and glaring at Izuku.

Kirishima lets out a whoosh of relief, his stiff posture relaxing. "I didn't think he'd listen."

"Wh-what did I—"

"Nothing. It's not your fault." Kirishima's grin warms. "You're not responsible for everything people do."

"Feels like it some days. He said I'm not there, even when I'm around."

He stares expectantly at Kirishima until the boy deflates. "I guess you've been a bit… distant, maybe, since you came back."

He doesn't need to say 'for the second time' for Izuku to hear it. "In what way?"

Kirishima bites his lip. "You're just, I don't know, not as manly as usual." His friend turns red as his dyed hair. "You zone out all the time. And when you do say something it sounds like you're talking through someone else."

Izuku closes his eyes, fists clenching. "I'm sorry I'm not perfect," he snarls.

"I didn't mean—"

"It's fine," he says sharply.

He walks to class, angry on the surface, but more despondent deep down. It bothers him that they can't accept who he is, bothers him that they coddle him but don't have the decency to say anything to his face. He barely musters a response for Asui and his glare is hot enough that Iida turns right around the moment he sees it. He avoids everyone at lunch and sits on the roof alone, left to his thoughts and the deck of cards he shuffles and splits ceaselessly.

Aizawa has their last class that day, and the man immediately zips up his sleeping back once the bell rings. Izuku stays behind until everyone is gone.

"Sensei."

A hand snakes out and removes the goggles. "Yes, Midoriya." His teacher doesn't move from his spot on the ground.

"Did you really expel your class two years ago? Or was that just a… a logical ruse?"

Aizawa frowns. "It was the truth."

"Wouldn't they need powerful quirks to get into 1-A?"

"That's not what I'm looking for. Yes, one commanded the winds, and another would probably make a great underground hero. They were powerful, but they didn't have the right potential. You idiots still show just a tiny bit of potential, and I'll drain every last drop of it to make heroes out of you yet. Was that all you wanted to know?"

"Here's the work I missed out on." He holds out the binder.

Aizawa blinks, standing quickly. "You weren't under a time restriction to submit it." He takes the binder. "Why?"

"I guess I didn't want to get into any bad habits," he says. "And my mother would be upset if she knew I was being lazy."

"Your mother?" Aizawa asks in a slow, measured way as he sets the binder on the ground.

"Yeah."

Aizawa looks him over. "Have you tripped recently?"

Izuku flushes. "No," he mumbles.

"I did tell you that you could come to talk to me at any time. You haven't taken advantage of that."

"I wasn't sure you were being serious about that."

"Do I look like I make jokes?"

You look like you need to sleep, Izuku thinks.

"No sensei." He frowns, thinking of the conversation he had with Tokoyami. "Do you think our laws protect people well enough?"

Aizawa cocks his head. Unzips his sleeping bag. Steps out.

"That's not a simple question to answer," Aizawa says, pushing his hair out of the way. "And it's a broad question. I take it you're talking about heroes and quirks. Listen, by and large, our laws are designed to protect people from misuse of quirks. They're not always perfect, but there's a reason we fight to uphold this society."

"Someone told me that a lot of people are branded villains because of a bad quirk activation."

"Are they branded villains or are they held accountable for their actions? You need to understand that the older a person is, the harsher the law holds them accountable. Even if it is a hidden quirk that activates, an adult has life experience a child does not."

"But hidden quirks are activated through trauma," he says, keeping his hands from brushing the scar at his temple. "You can't expect someone from, I don't know, an abusive home to not lash out when their powers activate."

Aizawa stills. "And did you lash out when your power activated?" he asks, voice level and calm.

"No." He shakes his head. "I just tripped and got hurt badly. I don't think that's the same thing."

"You trip a lot," Aizawa says, his fists clenching for some reason. He sighs, fingers uncurling. "Alright, think of it this way: should we let people get revenge against those who hurt them?"

"No," he says quickly. "If we do that we go back to the lawlessness of the second dark age."

"Then why should we let violent quirk activations go free."

"That's not the same thing. What you're talking about is someone wilfully choosing to hurt someone else. You can't just pardon that. What I'm talking about is a mistake that happens under stressful situations."

"Like Bakugou?"

Izuku freezes, heart tightening. "Kaachan is different." He takes a deep breath. "I need to get going. Mum will be upset if I'm late."

Aizawa sighs. "As you say."

He doesn't want to meet Tokoyami in the evening. He'd much rather just go to sleep, maybe even go for a run to work off some of his frustration. He is grateful, then, when Tokoyami takes one look at him and decides meditation is the order of the game. They sit in silence, watching the waves crash against the beach, until the sun has set, and darkness envelops the world. There is a silence to the darkness, one that reminds him of everything he is hiding from. The darkness hiding a step out of sync always calls, and he is very much too terrified to gaze into that darkness. Right now, there are no voices insulting him, no waking nightmares, just people he struggles to understand.

"Thank you," he says before they part. "For not making me talk about it."

"Sometimes silence is more beneficial than talking about it. It gives you a perspective that communication fails at. My father's silence has taught me that." He stretches his back, pops resounding in the quiet. "But that does not mean to endure alone."

He takes that advice to heart the next day with his counsellor. She smiles benevolently across the glass divide.

"Hello, Izuku. We haven't spoken recently. How are you finding things?"

He glances outside the window and for a moment thinks he sees a thread longer as three men. He blinks, and the odd sight disappears.

"Fine, I guess."

She adjusts her glasses. "You guess?"

"I don't know what you want me to say." He runs a nail against the coarse fabric of the couch. "What am I supposed to tell you? That everything feels numb except when it's not. That my friends are angry with me and I don't know why? What the fuck do you want from me?"

"If that is what you want to tell me, then yes. We can start in that order if you like." He doesn't refuse. "How are you handling the medication?"

"I'm tired all the time," he admits. "Most of the day is just… blank, I guess. I'm there but nothing sticks out except maybe an hour or two."

"And why exactly does this bothers you?"

His finger pauses in its path. "A-are you seriously asking that? Do you really think I enjoy this?

"I'd like you to realise that you are putting words in my mouth. I'm asking why it bothers you because I want to know if you understand how the feeling is affecting your life. Does that make sense?"

"I guess." He taps his finger in time with his heartbeat.

"Do you have any hobbies you enjoy?"

"I… read." He purses his lips. "And run. I watch TV sometimes." Said like that his life sounds hollow. Empty.

"And what do you like reading? I'm a fan of spy thrillers myself."

"I… wasn't expecting that." She smiles, nodding for him to continue. "I like reading stuff about quirks."

"I take it you've read the classics. Ononoki, Saruhiko, Salvatore and the like?" He can't help the smile that crosses his face. "You know, there's an elective in your third year that covers that. I think you might enjoy it."

"Aizawa-sensei told me about it." He fights the urge to blush because that memory goes hand in hand with the embarrassment of Aizawa calling him out for his clumsiness.

"Would you say you get along well with him? And your other teachers?"

He scratches at his burn scar, then remembers he's not supposed to do that.

"He's… thorough? High standards and logical ruses all the times. I don't like them."

"And why is that?"

"Because heroes shouldn't lie. Heroes must be better. I mean, where do we draw the line between lying and manipulating?"

"Do you think perhaps you're upset that you don't see through his ruses all the time?" Izuku frowns. "I've been here a few years, so I know a bit about his teaching methods. Do you think you're learning to think things through a bit better?"

"You still shouldn't have to lie to teach a lesson."

"Not every lie is harmful. We lie to ourselves every day. Sometimes you'll face situations where a lie is the most beneficial option. You're a fan of All Might, aren't you?"

No, I just have posters, pyjamas, shirts, CDs, a signed notebook, more figurines than I can count, and his quirk. Not a fanboy in the slightest.

"Who isn't?"

She rolls her eyes playfully. "Well, doesn't he say he smiles all the time for other people, even if he doesn't actually feel happy. Isn't that a lie of sorts as well?"

"I don't think it is. I think… I think maybe Mikumo would agree."

She pauses. "Has he been speaking to you recently?" she asks slowly, cautiously.

He shakes his head. "No. I just-it's the sort of thing he'd say."

She jots something down on her file. "Did he lie often."

Izuku looks to the side. Her office is high up, and he can see the forests surrounding UA from here. In the distance, he can make out the bright glint of one of the fake cities they use for training. A bird flies past, a dark streak against the green and grey world, free in a way he can hardly understand.

"I think I was the one who lied," he says after a long pause. "The keeper, lock and key. That's what my brot… no, what it called itself."

"And who were you lying to?"

Another bird joins the first. They fly, no, they dance around each other, flying so close they might collide, only harmony driving this aerial dance.

"Myself." He looks to her now. "Please don't ask me what I was lying about. I don't-I'm not ready."

"Alright. We can come back to this later." She scribbles once more, the scratchy sound of pencil on paper noticeable in this quiet room. "Why don't we talk about your friends being angry with you? What makes you think that?"

His burn scar itches, more intensely now. He scratches his arm instead. "Because they told me."

"And what exactly did they say?"

"That I'm never there even when I am. Because apparently, I have to be perfect all the time no matter what happens. It's not my fault I'm like this. I didn't choose to take these meds," he says, louder at the end. "And now I'm not good enough. I'm not manly enough."

He wipes at the tears before they can fall, hating how everything leaves him about to cry, hating more the times where he feels little.

"And what do you think would make you good enough, as you put it?"

"Aren't you supposed to be the one telling me that?" He sees her quirk a brow. Izuku sighs. "Maybe if I stop crying all the time. Or mumbling. Or stuttering. Or looking like a monster."

She adjusts her glasses. "Scars don't make a person a monster."

"You don't think they're important.?" He thinks of the image in the mirror and the scarred stranger that looks back. "Well, I do. I have to see this face every time I walk into a bathroom. I see this face in every mirror. Fuck, I can't even take a bath without seeing it."

"Serious injuries always take a long time to heal. Recovery Girl lets you get back quickly, but she can't get rid of the scars. And you're fully healed physically long before you have a chance to really process the event. I think in many ways you're still processing things. Your scar and Bakugou. Mikumo and the week you spent out of class. Your relationship with your friends."

"Thanks for reminding me all the ways I'm fucked up."

"I don't think you've, pardon my language, fucked up as you say. In my opinion, you only really fuck up when you stop trying. You don't have to succeed all at once, Izuku. The most important step you can make isn't the first one or the last, but simply the next step."

"That sounds like something straight out of a self-help book," he says, lips curling in disgust.

"It wasn't. And I get the sense you're less angry at me than at yourself for wanting to believe that."

"How the heck can you… oh, yeah, you have a quirk." She nods. "Okay, fine, explain that to me."

"Alright. Consider it this way. What has happened can't be changed. All you can really do is decide the future you want to see. And you can only do that by making choices now, as in, taking the next step. Painful experiences have taught me the most important step a person can take is always the next one. Bakugou hurt you, but you took the hard step to forgive him wh—"

"I didn't," he interrupts, looking away. "I didn't forgive him. Everyone was right about that. I'm not-I don't know if I'll ever be ready. But I want to. And I don't think that's wrong."

"Wanting to forgive someone is never wrong. I think it's part of the healing process." She leans back, relaxing fully in her seat. "I also think choosing not to forgive someone isn't wrong."

"That makes no sense."

"Why? You are the wronged party in this. Confronting someone isn't always the right answer for everyone. If it hurts you more and doesn't aid you in healing, then why should you? I think it's infinitely more important to have the capacity for forgiveness and understand when it is the right time to forgive someone. And never is a perfectly valid answer."

Izuku cracks his knuckles, savouring the release. "So, I shouldn't forgive Bakugou even… no, that's not what you're saying, and I know it." She smiles benevolently. "I get that forgiving someone is hard, but I feel like I'm being selfish if I don't forgive him. Or Shinsou."

"And Shinsou is the one you're fighting with?"

"I don't know if you can call it a fight. He got angry with me for not… telling him everything about my life." He sounds bitter, knows it from the way his bones chatter and his spine tingles.

She cocks her head. "A few weeks back I asked you to imagine a friend of yours getting hurt. Do you remember that?"

"How could I not?"

"Was Shinsou that friend?"

He sighs. "I think you know the answer to that. Yes, he was."

"Okay. Did he say he wanted you to tell him about everything in your life? Were those his words verbatim?"

"No."

"Then what did he say?"

A sense of numbness washes over him. "I don't want to talk about this anymore."

"I think maybe Shinsou isn't upset because you won't tell him everything, but because you won't trust him with anything despite how much he cares for you."

He stays silent no matter how hard she pokes and prods. The rest of the hour goes by like this.

-TDB-

Walking home after the end of his session, Izuku takes his time, enjoying his music and the simple cadence of step-step-breathe. He is so engrossed in this that he fails to hear the sirens before he turns the corner and sees a police barricade. Lights flash, yellow tape blocks the road, and a line of uniformed officers in riot gear stand ahead of the few heavy response crew milling about.

Izuku sprints forward. He knows the gear they are wearing: advanced carbon nanotube riot shield for protection; quick hardening containment foam for restraint; shotguns loaded with rubber bullets, and stun batons. He shoves past a boy near his age, glimpsing a small girl no older than twelve backing away from the police line before it happens.

The little girl in a dirty sunflower dress opens her mouth. A sound louder than jet engine tears through the air. Windows shatter and cracks form on both the ground and on the walls. He covers his ears, but it does little to alleviate the sheer raw strength of her power. The boy behind him is unfortunately hit by the shockwave and falls to the ground bleeding.

She runs out of steam a few moments later, eyes red and face slick with tears. "Stay away from me!" she shouts, voice high and reedy and all too much like a girl scared and unsure of her surroundings.

"Stand down or we will subdue you," one officer roars, clapping his stun baton against his shield.

The girl glares. "No. Leave me alone."

She takes a deep breath. It happens quickly. "Take her down," the officer yells, even as his subordinates react. The loud bang of a gunshot goes off, and the girl goes flying like a ragdoll. She slams into a wall. He watches, numb, as another officer sprays her with containment foam. It hardens, and the little girl disappears beneath the cocoon.

"Villain down," the officer says to his microphone. "I repeat, villain down."

"What are you doing?" Izuku whispers, shocked to his core. Louder, he shouts, "What the hell are you doing?"

The officer looks over his shoulder, frowning. "Apprehending a villain," he says.

"That's a little girl."

Grey eyes narrow. "That was a villain who just hurt five—make that six—civilians and someone get that boy treatment right the fuck now. I don't care how old she is."

Izuku takes a step forward. He isn't sure when he starts running, but he barrels past the police tape regardless.

Something hard and painful hits him. His back hits the ground, all the air leaving his lungs. He groans.

"Boy," the officer says, his foot on Izuku's chest, "I'm gonna give you one chance to stay the fuck down before you interfere with a police operation and I have to take you down as a villain."

The boot digs deeper. Izuku winces, fighting the urge to call shadows or One For All to fight back. He knows he can win the fight, but he also knows it's breaking the law.

"What did she do?" he cries.

The officer leans down. "She had a tantrum. She had a god damned tantrum and killed three people. That's what she did." He taps his baton against Izuku's shoulder. "I've seen kids like you. You think you know everything. You think you know how simple things should be. Yours is a life of fucking luxury."

He leans back, taking his leg off Izuku. A groan escapes him, his chest still a line of pain.

"I have a job to do. It involves keeping brats like you safe from killers like her." The officer sighs and lifts Izuku to his feet with a rough hand. "Go home to your daddy before you get in trouble."

Izuku swallows, terrified because the man's eyes are frigid, indifferent. He knows he could fight. But he knows just as well that this monster has a team of officers with their guns at the ready. He wouldn't, couldn't, under any circumstance win.

What will it matter if he fights? There's no one here to have witnessed this, no one who will care but him.

He walks away in shame, hating every fucking excuse he gives for his cowardice. He has no words for his mother, no interest in her kindness. He sits alone on his bed, crying well into the night.

And when the report comes out the next day of a girl with a violent quirk activation apprehended by diligent police officers, Izuku pukes. He thinks back to his conversation with his mother so long ago and understands she was right that life isn't as simple as monsters and humans.

No, there are monsters, humans, and human-shaped monsters.

A/N:

Next chapter is USJ. See you next week.

That's all from me for now. Thank you for reading this. If you enjoyed the story leave a favourite and if you have any questions just drop a review. But know all of that is unnecessary, and as always your readership is quite enough for me. Cheers.