'The Imperial House of Japan has existed far longer than any other monarchy and is currently the only legitimate monarchy to hold any power. Following a long period of obsolescence after the events of the Second World War, the Imperial Family showed a resurgence of power during the Second Dark Age. The then Crown Prince, 128th Emperor Yamamoto manifested a fire-related quirk that cemented the power of the Imperial Family as a major power. All Emperors have, since then, shown exceptionally powerful quirks.'

—Excerpt from 'Examining the Japanese Imperial Family: An American's Perspective' by David Hayter.

Shouta Aizawa stares at the boy on the hospital bed, unconscious and bandaged heavily. Perhaps not so heavily as he is, but he remembers seeing Izuku's leg crushed.

He also remembers watching the boy die.

The memory of what came after, the monster hiding just beneath the surface, is vivid and he very much doubts it will ever leave him. Regardless, he can put it out of mind and forget about it—he has seen much and learnt better than most how to compartmentalise his thoughts. Later, when he knows his students are safe, and in the silence of his home, he can unpack what he has witnessed. Right now, though, he wonders just how badly he has failed Izuku Midoriya.

He thinks of the pale scar on the boy's left forearm, a constant reminder of a suicide attempt. And now he has to question whether it was an attempt or if it was successful. Were it the latter, then it is amazing the boy was anywhere near as sane as he is, especially if his delusions were brought on by his quirk's nature. That didn't even account for his mother, who Shouta worries is more reprehensible than he thought possible—not only abusive, but perhaps even aware of, or party to, his suicide attempt.

Midnight enters, looking frazzled and not at all cheerful. "Shouta," she greets then sees the principal on his shoulder. "Nezu."

"Is it done?"

"Not all of them were happy to sign an NDA," she says. "Not that I blame them. I'm not a fan of them myself."

"It just covers key information on another student's quirk. Ensuring Midoriya's privacy and security is of critical concern."

"That's what I told them. They still think it's bullshit. Those who saw want to know. Kirishima and Bakugou put up the biggest fuss. Tokoyami just signed it without question. Everyone else wants answers." Nemuri yawns, stretching and showing off her curves. "So, do I."

Shouta sighs. "That still won't work on me."

She sticks out her tongue. "You're still a boring little boy." That brief instance of pleasure vanishes. "I've flagged some students for psych evaluations. Hagakure and Kouda don't seem to be dealing well with what they saw. And Mineta…"

Shouta closes his eyes and accepts his failings. "How bad?"

She smiles at him, gently as though he might break. This is the same smile she gave when he failed his first licensing exam, the same curve of her lips as when he failed a hostage situation and civilians died year back. He braces for he knows nothing good can come from something so gentle.

"He's completely catatonic, Shouta."

"Fuck. Just fuck." He rubs his forehead. "I'll deal-I'll talk to the parents… shit, just fuck."

"Aizawa," the principal says, his voice an anchor that Shouta grasps. "I will deal with the parents. Nemuri, thank you for the report and your hard work. I'll keep you informed of any major changes. For now, make sure the authorities don't use this as an opportunity to snoop into our business."

She forces a smile. "You know it," she says before leaving.

The Principal jumps off his shoulder once she is out of hearing range. He observes Shouta, assessing him. His gaze lingers on the broken arm and the head injury.

"You're certain you watched the boy die?" Principal Nezu asks, his voice cheerful as always. Shouta doesn't believe he feels that way.

"You doubt me?"

"Aizawa, you're half-dead on your feet and probably need some therapy for an acute stress disorder." The principal sighs, paws reaching to his pocket where Aizawa knows he keeps a pack of smokes. "It isn't lack of trust so much as needing confirmation."

"He died. And became… something I don't have words for."

The Principal twirls a cigar. "His mother will very likely be here within the hour. I have a task for you."

"What is it?" he asks, numb and still thinking of the students he failed.

"Ensure that she allows all medical attention to be done in-house. And make certain she doesn't permit a third party to do the quirk assessment."

His eyes narrow. "What are you planning?"

"Many things, unfortunately." The principal watches him, eyes dark with knowledge. "Do you think you can decipher them?"

"I'm not stupid enough to think I can. And I'm too tired to bother."

"There's a reason I like you, Aizawa. Intelligence without arrogance. Compassion with rationality." Nezu places the cigar in his mouth. "Impress upon Midorya senior the importance of keeping Izuku's quirk secret. What would villains think if they knew of this?"

"Do you really think he's safe in a home like that. If she knew, even had the slightest inkling of his quirk, why wouldn't she take him for quirk counselling?"

"Put aside your feelings. I need you to complete the task I've set out for you."

"She'll threaten to sue, regardless."

"Why yes, she will. And we'll point out she likely had knowledge of an incredibly dangerous quirk without informing us, in clear violation of our terms of agreement. And because it's a quirk matter, it will completely bypass the civil courts and go to the government. It might go as high as the Ministry of Defence. And even I'm not powerful enough to protect the Midoriyas from that."

He takes a step back. "You think they'll…"

"Experiment on him in an underground base for the next few decades? Yes. You humans are naturally predisposed to cruelty. The nature of power, I suppose." Principal Nezu removes the cigar and balances it on a claw. "Cruelty weighted against power. Perfectly balanced, as all things should be."

"Not every human is like that."

"No." He shifts his claw slightly and the cigar falls to the ground. "Just enough to tip the scales."

Nezu raises one paw "Villains who will see his power as an opportunity or a threat." He raises the other. "The government who will see the same. And two wildcards. Take a guess at them."

Aizawa wants to sigh. At thirty the principal still sees him as a student.

"The media," he says immediately.

"Good. They can potentially ruin Izuku's life if they don't follow quirk censorship laws. Or even if they decide not to respect his privacy rights. And the last?"

"His mother's lawsuit?"

"That might bring attention, but it is something we expect. No, there is a power higher who act as they please without accountability. Tell me, Aizawa, can you name our current Emperor?"

"The imperial family? Why would—"

"You forgot to answer my question."

Aizawa allows a frown. "No. I can't."

"I occasionally reread that… manifesto on combat you wrote. Know your enemy was the first thing you spoke of. Perhaps the most important thing you wrote. But how can you gather knowledge when you don't even know who your enemy?"

"Why would they be our enemy?" he asks, genuinely curious, secretly dreading the answer. "They've never interfered in UA before."

"Oh, they have. I've dealt with it as I've dealt with any threat. Anyone so secretive is a potential enemy. Any group powerful enough to sink a nation should be feared. And I refuse to let one of my students be a victim of their games." The principal's watch beeps. "That would be the boy's mother. Go, make sure she doesn't get any ideas. No one wants the media prying into the boy's home life."

"What secrets are you hiding?"

The principal laughs. "I've seen human cruelty first hand, Aizawa. The greatest secret is knowing what you people truly are. Cold. Callous. Cruel. It is the only reason I've managed to keep UA as independent as it is. Now go. Oh, emphasise your injuries whilst you're at it. A reminder, perhaps, of what you did to protect the son of a woman you loathe."

That laugh, high and bright and terrifying follows him as he leaves.

-TDB-

Neither dream nor nightmare haunts his slumber. Dreams are nothing more than lies he tells whilst asleep, and he knows the nature of his lies. And nightmares are just memories of the abyss he has at night.

This is neither.

Izuku walks down a hallway filled with colours and lights, every shade of the visual spectrum and some outside stream by him. He reaches and touches the lights. They part around his form, physical in a way light is not. He shrugs. This is nothing unusual.

Ahead of him, maybe a mile and maybe a world away, are seven pairs of eyes. They watch him as he approaches.

Instinct guides him to bow before them. He rises and says, "Hi."

They do not speak in words. But something in the way they shift worries him. There is a void in the back. He knows in his blood and bone that there should be another pair of eyes watching.

Protect us, they say in a voice that is lightning and power.

One reaches out. It seems so achingly familiar. Izuku reaches out.

Harsh light greets him. Izuku blinks slowly, knowing that somehow, he is in the real. There is something just beyond his grasp that he knows he should be searching for. But the harder he tries, the further it flees.

The world is heavy in a way that can only be opioids. He looks to the side and sees his mother sleeping fitfully. That is nothing worrying. He assesses his body: upper body fine outside of a few light scratches; left leg bandaged mildly; right leg swaddled in bandages with a metal brace around it. Izuku takes a deep breath a lets his worries pass away. He can feel the leg, muted as the pain is, and knows that it will heal one day. And if it does not, he will do with it.

"Kaa-san," he whispers.

Her eyes flutter open. There is a moment of disorientation before she focuses on him. "Izuku." She crosses the distance between them and hugs him. "Don't ever do that again."

He pats her back, uncertain of what she means but willing to abide by her wants. "I won't. What happened."

She pulls back. "How much do you remember?"

"Everything until I got punch by a giant purple monster." He manages a weak smile. "Not great for memory retention."

She doesn't return his smile. "Kaa-san… how bad was it?"

There are a set of files on the chair next to her. She hands them over. "Here's the report."

Izuku skims through it, reading multiple lines at once and still processing the information as well as a normal person would. He closes his eyes when he is done. "Fuck."

"Language," she snaps automatically.

"S-sorry." He shakes his head. "They know that I…"

"Not everything. Some know you come back and… well, you read what happens when you come back."

Izuku shudders. "People saw that."

She nods. "Only a few." Then she sighs. "Honey, there isn't anything left to do but damage control. We have to get a quirk assessment."

"If people know…"

"That's why we'll get it done through the school." Her expression darkens. "Your… homeroom teacher and I had a talk. The school will do the assessment and deal with your recovery. All of it in-house. Nothing will get out. And I'll burn the world down to keep you safe. You know that, right?"

He lets out a breath he didn't know he was holding. "Okay, I think I can live with that."

"Alright. Recovery Girl's ready to start with the scans whenever you woke up."

"How long?"

"It happened yesterday."

He frowns. "You've barely slept."

"Stop worrying about me," she says gently. "If we get these tests done then we can go home and try to figure everything out from there."

Two hours later, after many numerous scans, he waits patiently with his mother for the results He's not certain how he feels about practically being forced to undergo a quirk evaluation but he's not about to argue with it, not after reading the report of the USJ incident from those involved—perhaps most telling is that Kacchan's report had no cursing or shouting and that Dark Shadow spoke in Tokoyami's stead whilst the boy signed.

When Recovery Girl returns she does so alone, a stack of files in her hands. She nods to his mother though the motion is stiff, and her features are hard.

"For the sake of your privacy, I'll be the only one here. These are the only copies of these documents, and all information has been scrubbed from the computers."

"I take it that won't apply to his quirk assessment?" his mother asks.

Recovery Girl shakes her head. "No. That is directly related to our ability to teach your son. But these files are pertinent only to you but for a few safety precautions I'll note in his school file."

Izuku frowns. "So theoretically, if I got hit by a car then the hospital would have to call kaa-san to get my medical files?" A nod. "That's ridiculous."

"Many pro heroes have been killed by villains who gained access to their medical files and had information on their mutations. The laws are incredibly strict on the matter. Especially in a case as unique as this."

"It's fine, honey." His mother rubs his arm in reassurance. "We can get a medical bracelet if you're that worried. Now, what can you tell us?"

Recovery Girl sits, sighing in relief. She places the folder on the table.

"Your son exhibits no outward signs of a mutation," Recovery Girl begins, "but he shows a large swath of internal mutations. Notably, these mutations are tied to his spinal column and the rest of his bones. This first CT scan shows the… most notable change at the base of his spine."

She hands a file to his mother. He looks over her shoulder and freezes. The image is in black and white and shows what he thinks is his pelvis and part of his spine. But right where his spine begins is a bright red orb—and the more he looks at it, the more he can hear the dirge of the dreaming dead—and jagged shards growing out of his vertebrae.

"What is…" his mother's grip on his arm tightens. "What am I looking at?"

"Here's a view of the rest of his spinal column." Recovery Girl hands over another set of images.

He knows what a spine should look like. The picture he sees reminds him of that. Except for the long stem starting at his brain and going halfway down his spine. Or the odd structures growing around the stem almost like a protective cage, and the white nodes dotting his back. He knows what nerves look like and wonders why they're connected to the red orb at the base of the spine.

"This is an internal cross-sectional look of his right femur."

The bone is hollow, is the first thing Izuku notices. Then he notices the crystal lattice growing throughout it. He knows there should be marrow and veins. And maybe they are there but he can't pick them up with his limited medical knowledge.

"I took a random sampling of five other bones and found all of them to be hollow—similar to a bird—with the same lattice structure growing around his spine," Recovery Girl explains. "The only reason you don't weigh less than you should is that the crystals are dense enough to counteract the hollowing of your bones. From the sample I took, the crystal is extremely resistant to compression.

"Ingenious, really, because compression is the greatest weakness of a bird's bones. And since they're internal, your regular bone surrounding the lattice protects against torsion."

Izuku looks to his mother in horror. Sees the same expression mirrored in her. Clasps his hands together to stop shaking.

"And what does this mean for Izuku?"

"My greatest worry would be red blood cell production. I'll prescribe a series of supplements to counteract any possible side-effects. In addition, I'm taking the initiative to reduce the dosage of your anti-psychotics. With such an atypical neural network, I'm hesitant to keep him on such a high dosage. We'll discover more information during the assessment proper and see how Izuku reacts to his quirk being nullified."

"The same thing that nearly killed my son," his mother snaps.

"We need to know why. Right now, your son is showing aberrant mutations. From his public records a year ago, he showed no signs of change. If we don't test the limits of these mutations, then we'll be unprepared if anything else happens."

-TDB-

"Alright, Midoriya, in your own words describe your quirk," Aizawa-sensei says, voice strained.

Izuku's fists clench, knowing this is his fault—only at his insistence is his mother napping somewhere nearby. "Have you gotten any sleep, sensei?"

Aizawa is silent for a moment. Then, "No, but I've operated under worse circumstances." Izuku struggles to understand how that's possible. The man has more bandages than exposed skin and looks ready to fall over.

"I-if you're sure…"

"I am. If it makes you feel any better, I promise I'm going to sleep for the next two days straight."

It does.

He takes a breath to steady himself. The pain in his leg is a dull throbbing thing, nowhere near as bad as the burn—Kaachan, what did I ever do to you?—wound. And though he leans heavily on the cane, he knows he could stand on his own power, unlike the last major injury.

"Shadowshield," he begins, "is a quirk that expresses itself through two primary methods. The first is through emittance regarding shadows. I can generate physical shadows from my own shadows—and yes, I know I could do better with the terminology—which is affected by the surrounding light. If it's too dark there isn't enough contrast for me to generate shadows, and when it's too bright my shadow is too small to do the same. The cape was a workaround."

He forms a thick rope of shadows and tugs on it. "When directly tied to my shadow, the constructs are significantly stronger." Izuku changes the shadow to a needle and fires it off. It disintegrates under the harsh lighting. "When not attached to my shadow it loses most of its cohesion."

Izuku rolls his shoulders. "The second method is similar to a strengthening quirk."

He allows a tiny portion of One For All to fill his body and hobbles—step-step-tap—over to the punching back. He takes another breath, centring himself. Don't break, don't break, don't break. Then he punches the bag. It explodes, sand spilling everywhere, as the chain holding the bag snaps.

Izuku wrings his arm out, surprised that there are no bruises or broken bones.

"I only have conjecture as to why the strengthening portion manifests," he lies easily. "Based on the reports of what happened after… after the Nomu attacked, I can only assume I'm drawing power from that."

"On the matter of what… you became, has that ever happened before?" Aizawa asks.

Izuku shrugs. "I don't know."

"You died, Midoriya. There's no way a person could sustain that much damage and still live."

I guess I'm not a person. "Okay, and?"

"I'm going to be blunt. Have you died before, Midoriya?"

He closes his eyes. "You think I'm suicidal, don't you?" He laughs, then. "I mean, can you really be suicidal if death doesn't affect you? I know the flavours of death. I've felt my last neurons firing and felt my heart beat its last."

It is bitterness that makes him lift his sleeve and reveal the long scar there. "I bled out to experiment on my quirk. I've broken my neck and learnt the taste of poison. Do you know carbon-monoxide is surprisingly peaceful? You just lose consciousness and then you're gone."

He looks to Aizawa and sees the unmitigated horror on the man's face. "Pain brings clarity, sensei. I know that better than anyone. That expression you have is exactly why I never wanted an assessment the first time. Once a truth is known it can never be unlearnt."

Aizawa walks towards him. Izuku resists the urge to flinch and merely closes his eyes, bracing for whatever is to come. A pair of heavily bandaged arms wrap around his shoulders and pull him close.

"I'm sorry, Midoriya," Aizawa says gently, shocking Izuku. He's never expected such softness from the man.

He doesn't know what to do.

"For what?"

"I think I understand you a bit more." Aizawa pulls back and looks him in the eye. "Just because you can come back doesn't mean your life has no value."

"It just means I have no excuse for not risking—"

"No," Aizawa says sternly. "That's not how it works. Just because you can come back doesn't mean you can heal indefinitely. You're going to have a limp. You already have scars. If you keep up the way you have you won't be able to help anyone. Do you understand, Izuku? Your quirk only heals what kills you, not anything else."

He knows that. His face always itches, and his leg is in a thick cast. He knows the consequences better than anyone else.

"I want to be a hero, sensei."

"Being a hero doesn't mean hurting yourself on purpose."

"If I can save only one person then any pain is worth it," he tells Aizawa and smiles. "There was a girl in a sunflower dress. I couldn't save her. I don't-I never want to feel that… helpless."

"You can't save everyone."

"I know. It doesn't change how I feel."

Aizawa sighs. "Does your mother know you've died before."

Izuku shrugs. "I've probably told her. Why?"

"It's fine." Izuku doesn't believe that, not with how tight Aizawa's grip is. "Let's get through this assessment."

"Okay."

They test the nature of his shadow constructs, quantifying everything from lifting potential to how long they can naturally sustain themselves in the light. It leaves him exhausted, his brain aching from the strain. Recovery Girl administers painkillers as necessary to keep him going.

It is the final test that he dreads. They attach sensors and monitors all over his body.

"I'm going to erase your quirk, now," Aizawa-sensei says, tense.

Izuku nods. "Okay."

The man's hair rises, his eyes a bright red. The moment his quirk disappears terrifies him. The shadows seem to vanish, and his sense of perspective vanishes alongside it. His back is a line of burning hot pain, and the base—where now he knows the dead dream in a crystal orb—of his spine makes him think someone has shoved a white-hot spear through it.

He grits his teeth through the pain, not caring that his skull feels ready to split, that his nose bleeds heavily or that every part of his body hurt.

The pain disappears. Izuku gasps, listing to the side. Aizawa catches him, and Izuku has to take long breaths to still the pain.

"Midoriya."

"G-g-give me a mom-moment," he says shakily. Izuku pulls away from Aizawa and wipes the blood running.

"Here."

Izuku takes the proffered napkin gratefully and holds it to his nose. He checks the floor for bloodstain, terrified of what they might do if he isn't paying attention. There are none, thankfully.

"I think that's enough for today," Aizawa says in a tone which brooks no argument, looking to Recovery Girl. "You go get some rest, Midoriya."

"Yes, sensei."

"And if you have any problems at home, please call."

Izuku tilts his head curiously. He's not certain why Aizawa thinks he has problems more important than not being able to die properly. It's not like Izuku has told them anything about the warping portion of his quirk. And he has no intention of doing so if possible.

"Okay."

-TDB-

It is late in the afternoon when they finally get back. His mother helps him up the stairs, the hand on his shoulder a warm reassurance that nothing bad will happen, not when she is with him.

"What was dad like?" Izuku asks his mother from the second-floor landing.

"He was… quiet, almost like you get sometimes. Kind to me but he had no social skills to speak of. And dependable in his own way." She shakes her head. "He's the only reason we can afford UA. Or this house."

Izuku frowns as she deposits him on her bed. "I thought your salary—"

"Covered the most prestigious private hero academy in Japan and a townhouse? You're a bit naïve, honey. You either have the money or qualify for either a scholarship or government grant."

"So, dad's what? His insurance money? Pension? Whatever is covering all that."

"Yes."

"I see…" He frowns. "No, I don't see. What exactly did he do?"

"He was in risk management. Do you want to see some pictures?" She stands before he can answer and walks to her closet. After a bit of rummaging, she pulls out a worn trunk, sturdy and solid with bronze latches.

She drops it beside his seat on her bed. Izuku opens it. Inside, are photo albums. Dozens of them, some the cheap plastic kind and other leather-bound. He grabs the most expensive looking one, one with a latch that he thinks might be actual gold.

He expects to see a multitude of photos per page. Instead, only a single photo of his mother in a white dress greets him. She looks to be in her mid-twenties at the very oldest and smiles broadly. He notes the pins in her hair and the very complicated braids.

"I haven't looked through that one in a long time," she says, ruffling his hair gently.

"You looked beautiful," he whispers, and he can see where age lines will one day grow and grant her a more dignified appearance.

"Are you saying I'm not?"

He groans. "Kaa-san, you know that's not what I'm saying."

She ruffles his hair. "I know."

He flips over to the next picture. It is his mother standing next to Kacchan's. Her dress is a burnt orange and she smiles extravagantly, her hand intertwined with his mother's.

"We went to university together. Well, more like I took a first-year elective and met her there. Izuku, the stories I could tell you of all the places we visited." She laughs, her voice a windchime. "Actually, I think she met her husband at a casino."

He nods, flipping the page over. And freezes. He sees a man he knows can only be his father. The man isn't tall, much shorter than in Izuku's hazy memories, dark of hair and freckled heavily just as Izuku is. There are lines on his face, not the sort you get from stress or happiness.

"Dad was older than you," Izuku says, numbly.

"By about fifteen years," she says and threads her fingers through his hair. "It's a lot, I know, and maybe even a bit archaic to you. But he was always a gentleman even if he was a bit clueless. We didn't even do it un—"

"I do not need to hear that," he shouts, a cold chill running down his back.

She chuckles. "I thought you wanted to know about your parents."

He flushes. "Not about that." He shudders. "Wait… You said dad discovered his quirk on a date or something with you."

"He did."

"Then that means he didn't discover it until he was in his thirties. That's just…. How?"

"He was always a cautious man and pretty harmless. I was the intimidating one in the relationship."

"I can imagine." He traces a finger over his father's features and the white uniform he wears in the picture. Izuku blinks. "But he's wearing a military uniform. That makes no sense. And you told me he was afraid of getting hurt."

"He never wanted to tell me the story." She rubs his shoulders.

"He lied to you?"

"No," she says sharply. "Never. That was one thing he never did. He never lied to me, not once. But there were things he never wanted to tell me, and I respected that decision."

"Kaa-san, I'm asking because that's not a military uniform. At least, not a standard one. Both the rank insignia and the colour are wrong. The army wears black and the navy changed to blue."

Her grip on his shoulders tightens. "What do you think it is?"

He takes a deep breath. "Kaa-san, only the imperial family uses white anymore." He looks to his mother, sees her ashen face. "You really didn't know."

"No."

"You said he was involved in risk management. What company did he work for?"

She doesn't answer. The doorbell rings, cutting through the silence. His mother glares at him before he can so much as lift his leg.

"I'll get it." She's gone before he can reply. He strains his hearing but hears nothing. "Izuku, Shinsou's here."

Izuku blinks. Forces his leg off the bed. Stands unsteadily with the aid of his cane. He's getting sick and tired of the thing already and hopes he never has to touch it again after his leg is healed. He hobbles down the stairs.

Shinsou stands awkwardly in the entryway, looking for all the gold in the world that he'd rather have his teeth pulled out. He waves uncertainly.

"Hey."

Izuku forces a smile. "A-are we still fighting?"

"Do you want to fight?"

"No?"

"Then I guess we're not fighting."

His mother chuckles, reminding them both that she is present. "Well, if you two aren't fighting, how would you like to join us for dinner?"

Shinsou's eyes are wide. "I wouldn't want to impose."

"You aren't. Just make sure you let your parents know if you plan on staying the night."

That is how he winds up watching TV with Shinsou on the couch, dirty plates and cutlery strewed across the table. His mother is long gone, not that Izuku particularly blames her. The day must have been horribly long for her, what with not sleeping.

"Midoriya, what do you do for fun?" Shinsou asks, flicking through channels.

He looks up from his book, Hawkmoon's memoir he inherited from his father. "I like reading. And training."

"And let me guess, you're reading something about heroics."

"I like that."

Shinsou sighs. "Midoriya, as far as I can tell, everything you do is related to heroics. You read about heroics. You train so you can be a hero. You go to a school for heroes. When was the last time you did something that wasn't related to it?"

"But that's what I like." He frowns. "When we went to the mall."

"Right… and when did you go to a mall before that?"

"Maybe a year or two ago. I usually just order my supplies online." His lips thin. "I watched that Godzilla reboot… No, wait, I missed that. There was the Best Jeanist book signing… that I also missed. Huh?"

Shinsou reaches over and plucks the book away. "We're picking the trashiest show and watching that. And it's going to have nothing to do with heroics."

"Okay," he says, indifferent.

Shinsou picks some traditional martial arts movie. There are no heroes, no explosions, and from the image quality, it looks to be something from the last century. I thought they had 8K back then? He watches the movie, not really caring for it much.

"You don't like it," Shinsou says, disappointed.

"It's not that," he responds quickly. "I just don't watch movies much."

"You watch documentaries on heroes, don't you?" Izuku flushes. "Fine." Shinsou changes the channel and soon the screen is filled with images of the New Heroes in some war-torn country or other.

A smile crosses his features, unbidden. "Who's your favourite?" he asks Shinsou.

"Now you're excited. Maybe… Graviton Lance. Yeah, I think I like him the most."

"Huh? I never expected that." No, he really didn't. The simple looking man with a massive spear is the last person he expects Shinsou to admire.

"I'm not as easy to read as you are. He reminds me of me."

"You're both… men?"

Shinsou chuckles. "Yeah, we are. But not that. We're both outcasts in a way. He was a defector from an enemy state. I have the quirk I have." Shinsou looks away for a moment. "Except some idiot wouldn't leave us alone."

"Who?"

"Someone a bit too nice in both cases. Someone who doesn't really care about their personal safety. Someone strong." He looks to Izuku, smiling sadly. "You're an idiot if you can't figure out I'm talking about Hawkmoon. And you," he adds.

Izuku blinks. "W-wait what? I'm not anything like Hawkmoon."

"No. I think you care about people too much. She knew when to let people go."

He considers Shinsou's words for a long minute, a beat of silent contemplation to the backdrop of heroes from another era. He thinks of Kacchan and knows he would accept any overtures of friendship from him. He thinks of everyone he's met and come to know. He thinks of how he would go to the end's of the world to protect and would fight any threat if it meant keeping them safe. And he knows he would never let go.

"You're right," Izuku admits. "But I don't think that's wrong. I want to save people."

"That's why you're at UA."

"No, it's not just that. I would have still tried to save people even if I didn't get to UA."

Shinsou makes a sound of consideration. "I don't think you'd make a good vigilante. The law—"

"I know the law says. I could quote it verbatim. But, I think if I can save one person, only one, then I think it's worth it."

"You can't save everyone. Not even All Might's that strong."

He laughs, almost bitter, mostly surprised. "That doesn't mean I can't try. You said I'm like Hawkmoon. Do you know what she's famous for saying? The one quote that always gets misattributed. Any place can be paradise, Shinsou, so long as we try. If we all tried, just once in our lives and only once, to save someone else… can you imagine how beautiful everything would be."

"That doesn't change the laws. It doesn't change society."

"I want to be a hero, but I want to save people more."

"And that's why you're a good person. But Midoriya, no matter how many people All Might saves it doesn't change things enough. The UA exam isn't fair, and I know people who placed lower than me got into the heroics course."

"Is it—"

"It's worse sometimes," Shinsou pre-empts. "What do you think it's like growing up with a villain's quirk?"

"No one—"

"They do, and you're the first person who isn't like that." He shoves Izuku gently. "Thank you. But my quirk isn't flashy like yours. People will always see you and respect what you can do. And they'll always wonder if I'm a threat. I'm not bitter, but I know what people will think. I'm just lucky enough that I got into UA. I have a shot at a future. I've seen what happens to people who get rejected."

"Do you think I don't know what that's like?" Izuku brushes aside the flare of white hair. "I basically lived my life quirkless. I know it's not fair and that people can be cruel, but that doesn't make them bad people. It doesn't mean they're not worthy of being saved. People aren't monsters."

Shinsou says something in response but Izuku doesn't hear it. The shadows behind Shinsou are twisting, making shapes and he knows them intimately. He sees sunflowers and thinks of that little girl, so scared and traumatised. He remembers his failings that day, the guilt and the shame.

"Midoriya." Shinsou shakes his shoulder. "What are you looking at?"

Shinsou twists to look behind. Izuku reaches out and grabs his chin. "Just look at me, Shinsou. Don't look anywhere else."

A massive sunflower made of twining shadows and secrets older than time looms over Shinsou. It doesn't cast a shadow or darken the room, but Izuku worries over what might happen if his friend sees it.

"I'm h-here, right?" he asks.

Shinsou frowns and grabs Izuku's hands. He doesn't try to remove them. "You are. Are you okay?"

He huffs, glancing nervously at the long petal that reaches out for Shinsou. "I'm not broken," he snaps, and the petal pulls away.

"I never said"—something rises from the ground, maybe a crocodile, and snaps up the giant flower in its maws—" you were."

Izuku swallows. "Sorry. I just get… upset when I think someone says that."

Shinsou smiles, tiny and small and brighter than anything else in the room.

"I'll remember next time I want to see you flustered."

"Y-you troll." Yet he smiles. A long hour later, when the show is over, and he feels tiredness wash over him, Izuku asks, "You really think I'm like her?"

Shinsou groans, opening his eyes. "You both have braids."

Izuku shoves him. "Be serious."

"Yeah. You remind me of her." Shinsou closes his eyes.

"Yui Ikari whom Hawkmoon eclipsed." Izuku feels a smile cross his face as he thinks of his father's book. "I think I'm fine with that."

He wakes up, sunlight streaming in. He finds his face squished awkwardly between Shinsou's arm and the sofa. A groan escapes his lips as he sits upright. A sharp pain in his neck reminds him why pillows were made. He pokes at his cast until his leg wakes up.

"Do you know you drool?" Shinsou mumbles.

Izuku looks to him, face hot. "You have no proof."

"I already shared the pictures with Ochaco."

With a sense of dread, he grabs his phone and opens the group chat. The very first unread message is a picture of him leaning against SHinsou's shoulder, droll leaking out his mouth. And the two dozen responses are all, in some way or other, mocking him. Especially those from Ochaco.

"I hate you." Shinsou lifts a single brow, a silent question there. "Fine, you know I don't."

A shower later, and Izuku feels slightly more like a normal human being. He tells Shinsou to grab whatever clean set of clothes he wants and is rather surprised when he comes back looking like he has a fashion sense and didn't simply grab the first thing he saw. Izuku knows that plaid shirt is his, but he never once thought to roll up the sleeves or wear the dark shirt underneath.

"Thanks," Shinsou says.

"Izuku, honey," his mother calls from the stairs whilst they're playing a simple game of cards, "don't forget to take your medication."

"Yes, kaa-san." Izuku shows his cards, an ace of spades with a jack-queen-king. He knows Shinsou doesn't have anything as powerful, and there aren't enough cards left for it to matter. He shifts his bad leg and grimaces.

"I can grab it for you," Shinsou says, tapping his brace, and not at all looking bitter that he lost. "No need for you to suffer."

Izuku shakes his head. "It's okay, I'll grab it." He doesn't let any pain show as he moves to an upright position.

"What don't you want me to know?"

He looks to Shinsou and sees him frowning. "N-nothing."

"Midoriya, I know you. And I know when you're trying to lie. Whatever it is, do you really think I'll leave?"

He stares a Shinsou, really looks at him past the bags under his eyes and the tired lines marring his face. And all he finds is sincerity.

"The truth," he says slowly, uncertain, "isn't something I'm good at."

"I know."

Izuku sighs. "Do you remember how I was gone for a week?" He waits for the nod. "I don't know what you heard about USJ, but it wasn't…. well, my quirk is the reason. And it wasn't pleasant."

He lets shadows rise and grasps them in his hand. "It has psychological effects on me." He smiles bitterly. "My therapist thinks I have dissociative identity disorder."

"I don't know what that is."

"Lucky you." And then, after a pause, "That was cruel. I'm sorry. It just means I sometimes can't tell what's real and what's not. When Kacchan came back, I basically lost that entire week. I can't remember most of it."

"Sounds fun not having to remember Cementoss drone on for an hour."

Izuku stares at him, incredulous. And then he laughs. He sees Shinsou's tiny smile.

"Thank you."

"You don't like people making a fuss about you." And though there is a note of disapproval, Shinsou adds, "You want to help me with the maths homework?"

"Okay," he says because maths is simple and easy stuff, even if he must deal with the medication affecting him.

He walks Shinsou through problems on trigonometry and perhaps has a mild rant because Shinsou has no idea what a cosine or a tangent is. He's drawing a unit circle and splitting it into quadrants before his brain can catch up with his mouth.

"…and that's basically what an inverse cotangent is. Pretty stupid, I know, but it works out." Shinsou stares at him as if he's grown another head. "If you tell me you think an inverse cotangent has any practical use at a hero academy then I'm done. Just pack and never talk to me again."

Shinsou tilts his head, mouth opening but no sound coming out. He grabs one of the many dozen papers on the table and scans it quickly.

"Midoriya, I don't even know what a Laurent series is or what it has to do with trig. What do these symbols even mean?"

He shows Izuku one. It makes him frown. "That's an imaginary limit as epsilon goes to infinity. Pretty simple all thing considered. I mean, it's not like I'm trying to explain gravity waves to you."

Shinsou bites his lip. "I literally don't know what to do with you. Wait a minute."

Okay," he says as Shinsou pulls out his phone.

After significantly longer than a minute, Shinsou puts his phone aside. "Laurent Theory is taught at universities. So are gravity waves."

"And?"

"You're an idiot. You're genuinely an idiot." Shinsou looks to the ceiling and mumbles something, a curse perhaps, or maybe a prayer. "Izuku, just take these to Ectoplasm when you see him next. Just do it and tell him you were trying to explain basic trig to me. I can't even…"

Izuku frowns but gathers up the papers. They don't look particularly interesting to him but Shinsou is always weird. "If it makes you feel better."

They eat breakfast quietly. Izuku has a few laughs for Shinsou really is a child when it comes to eating, and the shirt he gave the boy is quickly stained.

"How do you even get through school with a clean uniform?"

"Napkins. Lots and lots of napkins."

Izuku chuckles and tells Shinsou to grab a clean hoodie from his closet.

When the doorbell rings, Shinsou is up and walking to it before Izuku can even bother finding his cane. His friend opens the door.

"Hey Shinsou," Uraraka's bright voice filters through. "It's so sweet you're always with Izuku. You're even wearing his clothes."

Even from here, Izuku can see his friend flush. "Well—"

"You gonna let us in," Kirishima says. "Hey, Midoriya, Shinsou's blocking the door."

Izuku blinks slowly. He still can't see them, blocked as they are by Shinsou's thin frame. Kirishima grabs Shinsou by the shoulders and moves him aside as if he's a cardboard cut-out.

Kirishima's grin is wide and toothy. "Hey man, you doing alright?"

"I guess?"

He watches incredulously as Kirishima picks a seat and gets comfortable as if he owns the place. Uraraka waves and pats his shoulder as she passes by.

"Your manners are atrocious," Tokoyami says. Izuku looks to him and finds him still at the threshold of the home.

"You're just a boring old crow," Uraraka says, sticking her tongue out.

Izuku swallows. "You can come in, Tokoyami."

He does so, nodding in gratitude. "Thank you."

"Why are you guys here?" He considers his question for a moment. "Not that I don't want you here it's just that I didn't even think you'd be coming and—"

"You're rambling," Shinsou says, shutting him up. "I called them over. I didn't think it was fair to monopolise your maths brain. We're all pretty bad at maths here."

"Man, you just don't want to let Midoriya know you were worried," Kirishima says.

"Why you—"

"Your crush is pretty cute," Uraraka says pleasantly.

Shinsou flushes. So does Izuku.

"I don't have a crush."

"And you're not wearing Midoriya's hoodie," Tokoyami says sarcastically, rolling his eyes.

"I'm not gay!"

"It's called a man-crush, no worries," Kirishima adds. "Tell your masculinity to man the hell up."

Izuku runs a hand through his hair. "Can we not, please?" There's just something about the idea that makes him want to shudder.

Uraraka laughs. "We'll behave. Right, Tokoyami?"

"Speak for yourself. Now, Midoriya, we were promised help with maths. Provide it."

Izuku just shrugs. It takes him the better part of an hour to get them through the pile of homework that Ectoplasm assigns each weak without fail. He learns a bit more about them in the process: Kirishima is useless at visualising objects; Uraraka is absolutely atrocious at algebra; and Tokoyami is just plain horrible at maths, almost disgustingly so.

"You weren't kidding," Kirishima says, looking to Shinsou. "Why have you been holding out on us?"

"I just found out today. Someone has a whole bunch of secrets."

Izuku blinks. "I don't even get why you guys think this is special."

"He's also an idiot," Uraraka adds.

"Why does everyone keep calling me that?"

"I find myself inclined to agree with their assessment."

Izuku watches Shinsou look at his phone, his expression closing off as he reads the message he has received. "I have to go," he says, standing. "My cat's still sick."

"Milquetoast again?" Uraraka asks, which makes Izuku frown because even he doesn't know the names of Shinsou's cats. He's not even sure how many Shinsou has.

"Yeah."

"Aw, sorry man," Kirishima pipes up.

"It's fine."

"No, it isn't." Uraraka grabs Shinsou by the wrist. "I'll come with you."

Shinsou startles, neck scarlet. "What—"

"Bye guys," Uraraka says cheerfully as she drags a weightless Shinsou with her. "See you at school."

"I'm being kidnapped," Shinsou says loudly, his body hovering above the ground.

Izuku watches all of this in bemusement. When the door is shut, he looks to Tokoyami who looks very close to having an aneurysm if he doesn't laugh soon, and Kirishima who seems absolutely starstruck.

"Calling it now, she's the manliest out of all of us." Kirishima grins. "She really does whatever she wants."

"Indeed…" Tokoyami holds in the laughter for three more seconds. And then he's on the ground, clutching his side as he laughs silently.

It is one of the odder things Izuku has seen. Not least because he didn't know Tokoyami was capable of anything other than solemnity—even his anger was dignified.

Izuku shrugs and stands, grabbing his cane. He hobbles over to the fridge and grabs an apple, biting into it. Too tart really but compared to the things he's eaten before he's not too worried. The chances of it mutating his spine are low.

He looks back to see Kirishima and Tokoyami watching him warily. "You alright, man?"

He taps the brace around his leg. "I mean, I'll be fine in a few days." And then he sighs. "I… I read your reports about what h-happened. I just don't-why are you guys… You're just acting like nothing happened."

Kirishima's smile is strained, sharper and colder. "Not everyone saw what happened. I mean, I did. I know feather-duster over here did, and whoever was with him. Bakugou saw. Mineta and Bakugou, too, yeah. But not everyone saw even if people felt some scary shit happening, man. We're not even technically allowed to talk about it."

His brows furrow. "Why not?"

"NDAs," Tokoyami answers, "that we were all required to sign. Privacy and censorship laws aren't taken lightly."

"So, you aren't allowed to talk to me, about my own quirk, because of a signature on paper?" He asks this slowly, unsure if the question sounds just as ridiculous outside his head. It does.

"Pretty much, yeah." A bit of warmth bleeds back into Kirishima's grin. "And I mean, I'm not gonna ditch you just cause you get real scary once in a while. Women do that once a month. I mean, I've seen you grin when you're upset and that shit's scary as hell."

"Indeed, it is. More so when you're bleeding." Tokoyami nods at Kirishima. "Or when your uniform is torn to shreds."

"Yeah, you're really bad with keeping your clothes intact." Kirishima jabs a thumb to his chest. "That's why my costume basically leaves me shirtless."

That startles a laugh out of Izuku, so much so that he drops his apple. But there is a genuine warmth to the back-and-forth, one that makes him understand why they actually came today.

"Thank you," he says. "You guys are just…"

"YouR friends, man. We ain't going to ditch you ever."

Tokoyami huffs. "Speak for yourself, cretin. I only have interest in easy maths homework." His features soften. "Regardless, Midoriya, no matter how odd your quirk is, I will not permit you to flail alone in the dark."

-TDB-

Kurogiri cleans his bar obsessively until not a single speck of dust remains. And then he cleans the bar again. He does this ceaselessly for hours on end, hoping against hope that he can forget the memory of the abomination that the boy had become. In the corners of tables, he sees broken edges of space and in his bottles, he sees the curves of time. A cold chill sweeps through him when he holds a knife, the image morphing to a pulsating horn that pulses with liquid darkness.

He takes down the final mirror in the upper floor of the bar. So long as they are gone, they can't reflect the distorted image of who—what—he was in the past. He can't see the too skinny man who left his child alone, the pathetic monster that bled out in an alleyway from a knife-wound if not for Sensei's timely arrival. Above all, not seeing his reflection means he can't see futures that never are but sometimes could be: he can't see his hands wrap around the neck of his kind wife, and later bash his child's tiny skull in a future that never will be; he can't see his white uniform stained red in blood on the Emperor's order, his misty body barely able to handle infernal flames as he and Sensei, along with others, purged entire towns; and so long as the mirrors are gone, he can never be plagued with memories of millions drowning in Taiwan, their calls haunted by the realisation that there won't be salvation.

Installing extra lights is a precaution he's never taken before. He takes it a step further by using chemical lights as opposed to regular fluorescent ones as those won't go out. Each light banishes the shadows just a tiny bit more.

When Sensei summons him, Kurogiri politely asks that the room be lit up. He creates a warp gate and walks through. Reality bends under the weight of paradox once more as there are three Kurogiri's once more: the one in the bar, moment before walking through the warp gate, and whom flees a monster with teeth that fill the world; a second who grasps one of the many bolts of green lightning and throws it, tearing a hole in spacetime; and the third who enters Sensei's room.

The universe destroys the paradox, realigning in a disorientating snap. A bright light fills the room. He notices an orb emitting pleasant orange tones above him, and watches it circle round his head.

"How many of our allies did you manage to recover from incarceration?" Sensei asks, not bothering with small talk.

Kurogiri swallows. "Not as many as you would like."

"I trust you did what you could considering the situation."

He stares at the orb, tracing its lazy orbit instead of meeting Sensei's gaze.

"Do you find this quirk interesting?" Sensei asks.

Kurogiri looks to Japan's resident cryptid and is shocked to see his face uncovered for the first time in nearly a decade. His eyes are closed as they always are, but he knows the man can see him perfectly.

Sensei still waits for his answer. "I suppose it has practical applications." He looks down at his shadow, tiny due to the light. "How is Tomura?"

Sensei tilts his head and considers his question. After a beat, he says, "Traumatised. There is much he must learn, strength of will and mind both. We'll see how much of his memories will have to be… excised." There is a hint of something sinister in the air. "I believe you have a clearer report for me?"

The tension and fear return. For a long moment, he is frozen, unable to say anything past the memory of mouths that eat light and gravity and everything warm in the world.

"Kurogiri," Sensei says, pulling him from his waking nightmares. "If you find the memories too difficult, I am willing to remove them." He says this kindly, patient as a grandfather who has seen every child under the sun.

He braces himself. "I would rather keep them," he says as politely as possible. He doesn't like the idea of anyone rummaging through his memories. And no matter how horrible they are, no matter how much they haunt him, he refuses to give up the events that make him who he is—he refuses to give up his wife and child, his crimes and glories, and all the tiny events that build up to make Kurogir the villain and the weak man of his youth.

"As you say, Kurogiri. I trust you to make your own decisions." Sensei leans forward in his chair, the medical wires and tubes following the motion. "I am not a hero who micromanages ignorant children fresh out of indoctrination school."

"It was…" he begins but trails off. "You know my quirk has been behaving oddly. What happened was that but worse. It shouldn't exist, Sensei. The boy died and something from the deepest pits of damnation rose up."

"Something straight out of the abyss," Sensei says slowly, prodding.

Kurogiri shivers despite that his body is made of gas. "That describes it aptly. When I travel through warp gates it's like I'm travelling through a place filled with darkness and monsters."

Sensei stays silent for a few minutes. Kurogiri stands under scrutiny, resisting the urge to wilt beneath this archvillain's consideration. Not out of fear as he knows Sensei has a vested interest in his quirk at the very least, but rather because there are plots within plots hidden behind skeletons in sealed vaults that Sensei navigates always. And he's not certain he wants to be involved in this scheme.

"We travelled through the darkest abyss aboard a train to infinity," Sensei says at last.

"Hm?"

"Nothing. Forgive an old man his ramblings."

"You never ramble," he ventures, calling the villain out on the poor lie.

Sensei chuckles, delighted. "No, I never do. But your words made me nostalgic. A long time ago, indeed."

"This happened? Sensei, this was almost as bad as Shikoku."

"Perhaps not this but the nature of events," Sensei explains. "Don't worry, matters will resolve themselves as always. All things do."

"I don't know if I want to learn more about your plans."

Sensei nods. "Other matters then. Has our little informant come through with additional information?"

Kurogiri relaxes. "Yes. We have the layout of the stadium. His unravelling quirk makes him useful."

"Yes. Expulsion from a prestigious school tends to breed resentment. I will leave Tomura to decide how best to utilise his quirk. Just remind Tomura to show some restraint. Civilian deaths galvanise the populous whereas destruction of protected infrastructure breeds fear."

"I'll be certain to remind him."

"Take care, Kurogiri." Sensei hums. "Oh, don't forget to scout Stain."

"I've never heard of Stain."

"He seems to be an interesting fellow. Localise him. Tomura has lessons to learn. Stain will teach him strength of will."

"And strength of mind?" Kurogiri asks. "You said he lacks that as well."

"Oh, I'll let young Midoriya teach him that." His smile is sinister. "I take it you have no issue with that?"

Kurogiri shivers. "No."