'It is known that the Imperial Household employs special talents, sometimes they are drafted once, and others they will go on to work as an Imperial Agent. Those that do not swear oaths of fealty but remain affiliated go on to be Special Assets. The rarest, those who swear the oaths of fealty and protection to the Emperor, become members of the Royal Guard. These men and women are given dispensation to act with the Mandate of Heaven, and when operating under that Mandate, they are the highest authority in any given area. All Imperial Agents, regardless of rank, are granted permission to wear the white of the current Chrysanthemum Dynasty…'

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

The breeze is cool, crisp as a fresh apple and tart as a lemon. He inhales it deeply, savouring the way it burns a line through his nose and down to his lungs. The wind simply is, and there is a beauty to simply existing that Izuku appreciates.

Mikumo, unfortunately does not. Explain again why you thought making a deal with a wish granting dragon was smart.

Izuku sighs, his thought disturbed by the pitiful screech of something dying in his mind. "I love kaa-san enough to put up with you."

Sure, sure, sure. But have you considered I'm not your curse. I've done nothing but help even though you left me to burn you bastard. It burns, I burn, we all burn. Everything bu—

He feels no guilt in locking the mad voice somewhere far away. When All Might comes, Izuku is standing ready.

"Hi," Izuku greets, smiling broadly.

"My boy," Toshinori-sensei, and not All Might, begins, "how are you? You were… in a terrible state when I found you after the villains attacked."

Izuku shrugs, kicking the sand. "Well my leg was crushed, and I got punched to death. Not fun." He very intentionally ignores Toshinori's convoluted range of expressions. "Anyway, you kinda never talked to me afterwards."

He coughs, blood splattering his fist. Izuku frowns and makes certain to watch it. You could never be too certain what happened to blood if you forgot to watch it.

"I was investigating the matter with the police, Young Midoriya."

Izuku nods. "The law is important," he agrees. "Can you tell me anything about it?"

Toshinori sits and gestures for Izuku to do the same. "You know they're called the League of villains. It's unknown exactly what their goals are. Some claims it's for societal revolution, some said it was to kill me, and some said it was to get revenge."

"Those are pretty much the same things," Izuku says, watching Toshinori blink slowly. "You're the Symbol of Peace. If you die, then one way or the other things change. I mean, Endeavour becomes number one but he's not a symbol. He's not a rallying cry, you know. No matter how bad things get, so long as you're here then everything will be fine."

Toshinori clasps his hands together. He looks so small hunched over. "That is a heavy burden for a single man to carry."

Izuku rolls his eyes. "Then you shouldn't have become an ideal. Even Hero and Hawkmoon weren't symbols. They were just women who tried to make things better." He runs his hand through the sand taking pleasure in the simple resistance there. "Ononoki said we have to hold heroes to the highest standard. You kinda made a new standard."

"She was speaking of the law, my boy."

"And isn't that what you are? A just and compassionate law. You're the best of people and the hero we need the most." Izuku takes Toshinori's hands in his own, and leans forward, smiling brightly. "I don't know how hard it is for you to be you. But I have friends who help me get through things. No matter what, I'll be here believing in you."

Toshinori stays silent, weighing his words. "Even if there are things I haven't told you."

"I thought my friends would abandon me if they knew what I was. If they knew about my quirk or the fact that I have a long list of problems." He squeezes those gaunt hands tighter. "I barely know them, and I can't imagine a world without them. I think that's why Hawkmoon said what she did. So long as we try then any place can be paradise. And it's a lot easier to try if there are other people helping you. If that makes sense."

Toshinori smiles benevolently. "It makes more sense than you can imagine. You're a smart kid."

He flushes and lets his hands fall. "I just quote smart people."

"Taking the lessons of those wiser than you is a form of wisdom. One that took me a long time to learn, sadly." His chest heaves, and he says in a strong voice, "A true hero saves not only a person's life, but also their spirit."

"Who were you quoting?"

"Nana Shimura."

"I-I've never heard of her."

Toshinori's smile is sad, a pervasive sadness that comes only from years of mourning. "She was my mentor, Izuku, and the greatest person I knew."

He swallows, uncertain. "How did she…"

"She fell in battle. She died proudly for the people she loved." Toshinori pokes him in the chest. "Even if things get confusing always remember to smile. That heart of yours will always guide you true."

Those are the last words they share. Though he wishes to speak more with his mentor, time runs short and missing school is not an option. He bumps into Shinsou on the train, nearly knocking his friend over. He accepts the shove in return without complaint.

"You and Uraraka are close," Shinsou says whilst they walk. Or as Shinsou walks and he limps. It isn't particularly noticeable, but it does affect his gait.

"I guess. She's pretty nice."

"And you… like her?"

Izuku cocks his head. "Of course. She's super nice."

Shinsou seems to deflate. "I guess she is."

"What's wrong? I know I'm not—"

"It's not your fault. I guess it's mine." Shinsou ruffles his hair. "Don't worry. I just-It doesn't matter."

Izuku stops. "I think it matters if it's making you this upset."

"Please stop. It'll just make things worse."

"No. I don't get it, I won't pretend I do." He grasps Shinsou's shoulders. "I don't really get everything about people. But my therapist tells me telling the truth is good."

Shinsou's face is scrunched up almost as if he is about to cry. "I like Uraraka."

There is something to this he is missing. "I don't think it's possible to not like her."

You idiot.

"No. I mean, I like her." Shinsou gestures wildly, just as confused as Izuku. "Really like her."

"Okay…?" He frowns. "I'm not going to pretend I get it—"

"I want to ask her on a date," he shouts, startling Izuku. "Every time she smiles it makes me happy. Every time she wins I think she's beautiful. And you two are just… so fucking perfect."

"We barely spend any…" he trails off, because that's a blatant lie. He spends as much time at school with her as he does with Tokoyami. Which is significantly more than the time he spends with Ojiro or even Shinsou.

"I don't like her like that." It feels awkward to articulate these feelings. "She's nice and I think she deserves the world, but I don't really want to…" He makes a gesture hoping it encapsulates everything he doesn't have words for.

Then he decides to do what he's best at and pulls Shinsou into a tight hug. "Um, you can do your thing. I don't-I mean, I'm not… Look you can ask her out on a d-date. I promise I won't get mad at you."

"You always think people are mad at you."

"They usually are."

He says goodbye to Shinsou, waving him away, and heads to the building for the Heroics course. It still bothers him that Shinsou is separated like that, almost as if he were lesser because of his quirk. He shoves the annoyance away as he heads to class. It wouldn't be fair to anyone else to inflict that annoyance on them.

"Midoriya."

Izuku looks back and sees an orange haired girl dragging the boy Monoma with her.

"Y-yes?" he asks, wary.

"Tell him."

Monoma hesitates which makes the girl slap him. Izuku steps back as Monoma just rubs the back of his head.

"We started a petition like you said. Itsuka forced me to."

Izuku watches the two of them warily. "Okay? And?"

The girl sighs. "We want your signature. You're from 1-A so it—"

"Where do I sign?"

"Just like that?"

"I said I'd sign a petition." He smiles, this time gently. Monoma still flinches but Istsuka shoves him forward.

When they give him a tablet—because no one still uses paper to get signatures anymore—Izuku signs it. He returns it to Monoma with a nod and heads to class.

He takes his seat, waving to Kaminari as he walks past, and is in the process of shuffling his cards when Iida approaches.

"Midoriya, I wish to ask you a few questions." Iida adjusts his glasses. "Why did you tell them to make a petition? 1-B, that is."

He splits the deck. "Because the system isn't fair. You speak to Shinsou all the time. He's a smart as anyone here and his quirk means he can win any fight without bloodshed. Sure, it might not work if you're prepared but everyone has a hard counter. Anyone who can go intangible basically makes All Might's power useless. Aizawa-sensei would probably win against Endeavour in a fight. No fire means he's just left with his fists, and we all saw sensei take on a mob."

He lays out five cards. Draws another and places it on the first card. Draws a second and repeats it the process, moving faster with each new card. It is a simple game to count cards like this.

"Being a hero isn't just about punching giant robots. It's a lot more than that. If we decide that then a lot of people fall through the cracks. Andile Sithole said peace is possible so long as we try and be better. And choosing only one criteria for being a hero doesn't make us better."

The last card is a four of diamonds as he expects. He looks up and sees Iida observing him.

"W-what?"

"You don't get nervous when you're talking about quirks."

"Yeah, stop showing off, Midoriya," Kaminari shouts. "You're making the rest of us look bad."

Sero punches Kaminari's shoulder. "That's because you don't study."

Iida goes over to stop them when Kaminari tackles Sero. Izuku ignores them, glad that Iida has them under control when Aizawa-sensei enters. Their teacher is still covered in bandages, but his gait is smoother than it was on the weekend.

"Can we get through this without any rude interruptions?" He looks straight to Kacchan who only scoffs in disgust. "Oh, you'll let me do my job? Great. Well, in case you weren't sure why the other classes mobbed you yesterday, here it is: all of you are taking part in the Sports Festival next week. Don't embarrass me. Actually, anyone who doesn't make it past the first round is getting expelled."

"You know, the more you use that threat the less effective it gets," Kirishima says. "I mean, at this point are you really going to do it?"

"You can go right ahead and fail in the first stage if you want to find out. As added incentive, scouting for your initial internships is done through this. If you fail, you might not have any offers and well… you'll be shovelling shit for a government lackey for that week."

"For some reason I don't believe you."

Aizawa shrugs. "Go ask some of the second years."

"Sensei," Iida says, "if that's the case then may we use the school grounds for training purposes."

"So long as you get a faculty member. Without one, you won't be able to use the school facilities after hours."

"Thanks, sensei, you're awesome."

"You're welcome…" Aizawa looks over the class slowly. "No. I'm not doing it. Get someone else."

"Come on, you're our homeroom teacher."

"And that somehow makes me the only person you can ask? Go bother Midnight or someone else who actually cares about you."

"Sensei," Izuku says. "Please." He smiles as earnestly as he can.

Aizawa pauses. "I hate all of you. Fine, get consent forms from your parents. And coffee for me."

"You know, Midoriya," Kirishima says, "I take it back. That smile is terrifying."

Shouta Aizawa dozes lightly on a couch in the teacher's lounge. He does so only because Nemuri and Hizashi are in the room, arguing about some reality show or other, and he can trust them to have his back. It is because of this trust that he doesn't pay attention to the heavy footsteps nearby.

Something smacks him in the chest. Aizawa opens his eyes to see 1-B's homeroom teacher, Sekijiro, looming over him, displeasure radiating off him in waves.

"This is your fault. Fix it."

Aizawa lifts the files on his chest and skims through them. It is a petition to re-evaluate the current method of assigning students to the specific programs in the school, one that would deemphasise the giant robot portion of the exam.

"How is this my fault?" he asks tiredly. "Board of Governors and Nezu deal with this stuff."

"Look at the first signature."

He can't help the laugh that escapes his lips. "Of course, Midoriya would do this. Still don't see how this if my fault."

"This all started because you wouldn't accept any students from 1-B."

Aizawa sits up. He may not particularly care for Sekijiro but the man is deserving of his respect. He cracks his neck.

"I've read the files of every student in first year. I can tell you their quirks and their strengths. And even were I inclined to fill my empty seats, which I'm not, there's a kid in general studies whose quirk makes him better suited for hostage situations than anyone else in this school, including faculty.

"There's a girl in Support whose genius is just as versatile as a student who can literally create whatever she wants if she eats enough. Frankly, at this point, I wouldn't be surprised if Yaoyorozu secretly is a bored god pretending to be a student."

He doesn't let his mind focus on that thing Midoriya became because madness isn't worth it, and he's tried it once already. There are students he is responsible for, and though he regrets failing Mineta, Kouda, and Hagakure, there are still seventeen other students who need his guidance.

"You want some of your kids in 1-A? Well, you can wait until next year when I'm not the one with final say over who stays in my class."

They're glaring at each other. And though it might be childish, Shouta has no intention of backing down. And if I don't get any more students then I can't fuck up even more.

"This is getting out of hand," Nemuri says. "How's about you boy's settle this with a bet. The sports festival's starting next week."

"I see where this is going," Aizawa says with a sigh. "If I win, no one gets to speak about which students I leave in my class."

"And if I win you accept my three choices without question."

"Sounds fair to me." Nemuri claps. "Alright. Whoever has the most students in the final wins."

"That doesn't sound very fair," Hizashi pipes up from his seat. "Shota has seventeen to Seki's twenty."

"And who's fault was that?" Sekijiro questions snidely.

Something about that sets him off. "You know what, no. Not only will I have the most students in the final stage, only my students will make it to the semi's."

Silence. Then, "Someone just threw down the gauntlet," Hizashi announces, standing. "Ladies and gentlemen, this sounds like the start of something beautiful. Three to one odds of Shouta winning."

"Four to one," Principal Nezu says, alerting them all to his presence. The principal is immaculate as ever and his eyes dark with knowledge.

Shouta sees Ectoplasm trailing behind him, holding a briefcase in one hand and a large stack of papers in another.

"Well, the betting pool is officially open," Hizashi continues just as loud, walking over to the whiteboard and scribbling the details of the bet. "One month's salary starting bet at minimum. You better win, Shouta."

Nemuri takes the marker. "Now that the dick measuring contest is over, let's get to the fun bet. Who's coming first? Nezu, you got any odds for us?"

"Always." He laughs hautily. "You're all paying for my vacation this year. Who is your pick this year, Nemuri?"

"Hmm? Yaoyorozu." She writes that on the board. "Uraraka's my second pick."

One by one the teachers give their picks for victor and their alternative. He is not surprised when Sekijiro chooses two of his students.

Ectoplasm, though, genuinely shocks him. "Midoriya then Bakugou."

"That kid's a twig," Nemuri says. "Did you see how Uraraka beat him at his own game this week? He's gonna lose."

"He shows a level of intelligence no other student comes close to possessing." He nods to Nezu. "He's been assessed to have university level knowledge of mathematics—"

"Oh shit."

"—and based on his apparent ability to make even Shouta give in to his demands, I don't doubt his ability."

"You know what, I'm betting for Midoriya as well," Present Mic says. "Kid's a polymath now."

Shouta narrows his eyes even as everyone pays more attention. "Explain," he says harshly. Anything involving Midoriya instantly gets his heart beating quickly.

"Calm down, you grouch." He waves away Shouta's frustration with an ease that comes only from knowing him for decades. "He handed in an essay that I sent for peer review."

"Did you now?" Principal Nezu asks, cutting through the sounds of shock. "With his permission, I sincerely hope."

Hizashi laughs nervously. "I asked, and he said yes. Anyway, the kid wrote an essay on the connection the Voynich Manuscript—"

"The what?"

"It's this weird thing some guy in the fifteenth century wrote, and no one's been able to decipher it if it's even an actual language. Anyway, he suggested that the manuscript was written in a corrupted form of a Caspian Dilami translation to the Athara Veda." Present Mic gestured wildly. "And for those of you in the audience confused, he used the translation of an ancient language to another ancient language to decipher a centuries old mystery. And he explained all of this without noticing I was speaking English and French to him."

The silence is thick and heavy. "Bullshit," Nemuri says. "That's sound like a power wank fantasy."

"You wanna see the paper? Well too bad, you suck at English. How many times did you retake English when we were at school?"

"I am inclined to believe Hizashi," Ectoplasm says before it can devolve into a fight. "The boy shows a deep understanding of higher level mathematics. That he shows the same knowledge with linguistics is not so difficult to believe."

"This is ridiculous," Sekijiro says.

"It is," Nemuri agrees. "But… he did submit a paper on how the anti-quirk riots that happened were exactly as Saruhiko Ando predicted for his last assignment. The best after that was some copy-pasted bullshit."

Shouta can't help but chuckle regardless that Hizashi looks at him worriedly. "Linguistics, mathematics and a knowledge of quirks and quirk philosophy." He chuckles again. "So somehow, we completely missed a polymath because we were more interested in his ability to punch giant robots. And I nearly expelled him."

"You what?"

"This is why I say the exams should be changed," Aizawa adds. "Every single year I argue it needs to be changed and this is exactly why. The kid's probably smarter than all of us, and I'm the only person here without a doctorate in something."

"He wishes to be a hero, Aizawa," Nezu says. "Regardless of his intelligence, we cannot deny him on the grounds that he has talents in other areas, not when he still has the potential to be an incredibly powerful hero. So long as he chooses to remain at this institution, we have an obligation to give him an opportunity."

The next day, Izuku has his consent form signed despite the initial protests of his mother. And though he goes to maths class, the usual worksheet is replaced by a stack of papers deriving the equations for a Kepler orbit. Izuku sighs because just about every assumption made is wrong and the paper is stained red with ink in a few minutes.

And once he's done with that, he has to fix the issues with another paper simulating the orbital model of a three-body problem. Which is easy enough, but he's starting to suspect Ectoplasm is using him as a free marking system.

"Midoriya." He looks up from his work. "I would like to thank you."

They have a few minutes before their next class and Izuku had chosen to get started on the homework Ectoplasm assigns him.

"For?" He asks Tokoyami.

"Aiding me in becoming stronger." Tokoyami smiles in that odd way of his. "Truly, you are a good friend."

Izuku isn't completely sure what he's talking about but smiles anyway. "You're welcome?"

In the afternoon, when classes have ended, and the world is cast in hues of orange, some burnt and some burnished, does he assemble with the other students at the field under Aizawa's baleful glare. Neither Todoroki nor Yaoyorozu are there, which doesn't surprise him since they both got in on recommendation and probably don't need the training. But he does pause as Kaachan isn't around.

"You have three hours," Aizawa says, taking a deep swig of the coffee Uraraka brought. "Don't break anything."

He finds himself dragged aside by Ojiro before he can decide otherwise. "We're sparring," he says.

"Okay." Izuku closes his eyes and feels for the power his mentor granted him. There is the highway of unbridled energy, ever-present and waiting. Izuku grasps the tiniest fraction of a fraction, less than half a percent.

His body does not glow, and no green sparks appear. But there is a strength to his limbs that he knows he would never reach naturally.

He nods and Ojiro springs forth. They trade blows with a familiarity that comes only from being taught by the same teacher. Ojiro is still faster than he is, still more mobile, as even though One For All enhances his abilities he is only at the upper-bounds of peak human physicality.

Ojiro is simply more skilled than he is. Izuku has instinct born from fighting monsters—that tail of Ojiro's is exceedingly tame compared to barbed tails that travel through portals—and it lets him keep up. He might be able to anticipate a bunch, but his body is still too slow to evade it fully. And when he does open some space, his limp keeps him from closing the gap fast enough.

An hour later, Izuku taps the ground. "Yield."

Ojiro helps him up for the nth time. "Your form is better."

"If you say so."

"I do." He nods. "How are you holding up after…"

"USJ? I think I should be asking you that. I was unconscious for most of it. I barely know what's going on with you and everyone."

"You always have a lot on your mind." He raises his hands in a placating gesture. "I'm not saying it's your fault or anything like that, Midoriya. You just have more to deal with than me. And I don't think it's fair of me to worry you over—"

"What if I want to know? You never even tried to ask if I wanted to know."

"You would have said yes, no matter what." Ojiro frowns and squats, gesturing to Izuku to do the same.

He kneels instead, annoyed that he's getting involved with the ground once more.

"I'm terrified," Ojiro says bluntly. "Not of you, before you even go there. I just don't know anything. Kirishima, Asui and Tokoyami can't say anything or they're going to be fined and censured by the government. Do you know how scary it is knowing Mineta's gone? That Kouda's gone. And we can't even ask why."

"I'm so—"

"I'm not blaming you," Ojiro says calm as ever. "I'm just letting you know how I feel. Every time I look away it seems you've just been hurt. I can't protect you because you're so far ahead of me."

"Please tell me you aren't going to do the debt of honour thing like Tokoyami."

That startles a smile out of Ojiro. "No. But you were taught by Jin Mo-Ri. He doesn't teach people for the sake of it. I know he's taught heroes before, but you're the first person he's ever taught Renewal to. You're my friend, and you're a person my teacher thinks is worthy of passing his secrets to. I don't want you to get hurt. I never will."

Izuku inhales.

He thinks of his conversation with All Might, thinks of how he told his mentor that his friends were amazing and realises those words are not enough to encapsulate the kindness and patience they reserve for Izuku. He wonders if there will ever be a time he will be worthy of them.

In time, brother mine, you will be their downfall, Mikumo whispers.

Izuku exhales.

With that escaping breath, he buries his sadness deep beneath the surface.

"I don't know how to be a better friend," he admits. "I can-I mean, I just want you to know I'm here. I trust you. I don't want you to think I'm too busy or whatever to talk."

Ojiro nods.

"Okay. I'm afraid of a lot of thing. I'm afraid my quirk isn't useful. It's a mutation that barely makes me better than the average fighter. I can't block attacks like Kirishima or make things float and I don't control shadows. No matter how strong I get, I'm always going to be stuck with human limits. I can't… I can't break past them with technique everyone else can. I'm just human."

Izuku opens his mouth to argue, then closes it. He will listen, calmly and patiently. Even if the words tear through him and leave him feeling numb. Because he understands those insecurities. There was a time he was a quirkless, and more than anyone else he understands the limits of the human body.

"I'm worried you'll forget about when I can't keep up. Your quirk means you're gonna make it to the big leagues no matter what. And one day none of you will have time for me. You'l be too important by then. This festival's a just for me to prove that wrong. If I can get an internship from it then maybe, just maybe I can make it."

"I believe in you," Izuku says once Ojiro has fallen silent. "I'm not ditching you ever."

Ojiro shrugs. "No one can guess the future. And don't you dare make a promise you can't keep."

Later, he spars with Iida only for fifteen minutes before he realises that if Ojiro is fast, then Iida is a speed demon. He lands on his back for the sixth time and decides that there are better things to do than enter an intimate relationship with the ground. And whilst he is thankful for the distraction, he does resent how his side hurts and his right hip joint protests with every step.

It takes a bit of searching, quite a bit of getting lost, before he decides to ask Aizawa-sensei for directions.

"Where can I find Tokoyami?"

Aizawa looks up from his laptop. Izuku doesn't want to imagine how exhausting it is to both watch them and deal with his work, especially not when he's swaddled in bandages.

His teacher points to one of the gyms, a smaller one they haven't ever used before. Before he goes, Aizawa asks, "What do your parents do, Midoriya?"

"Um, my mom has an office job. And my dad's gone."

"I'm sorry. I didn't know he wasn't…"

Izuku shrugs. "Oh, he's not dead. He just, went missing when I was five. Not like I needed him or anything." He forces a grin. "Last I heard, he was working in risk management. Thanks, sensei. See you later."

He walks towards the gym before Aizawa can ask more questions. The gym is flooded with light and Fumikage sits in the centre, the picture of perfect concentration.

"Hey," he calls out, not wanting to startle the boy.

Tokoyami grunts and stands. His tracksuit is stained with sweat.

"Midoriya. How goes your training?"

He rolls his shoulder, wincing. "Well, I've learnt the ground gets comfy after the twentieth time you're slammed into it."

Tokoyami chuckles darkly. "Indeed."

"And you?"

"I have spent most of this time trying to split the different currents of energy. You were right that Dark Shadow drew power from me and never once touched his own reserves."

Izuku smiles. "Good to hear. I didn't think that would make you so tired."

"Dark Shadow is not interested in paying rent or sharing with others. I keep the lights on to weaken him. He becomes more amenable to splitting his energy two ways like this."

"Anyway, do you want to spar?"

Tokoyami does. Battling him is completely different form Iida and Ojiro. It takes him a few exchanges to understand why. Where those two are trained for, and have quirks suited to, close combat, Tokoyakmi is purely a ranged fighter. He uses Dark Shadow almost like a gun, firing it off and hoping to get the hit. And sure, Dark Shadow can turn around, but it is still bound to things like inertia.

He dodges Dark Shadow's fast extension and closes the gap despite his limp. Tokoyami pedals back. Too slow.

Izuku doesn't put much power into the punch but it still sends Tokoyami sprawling to the ground.

Tokoyami raises a hand in surrender. Izuku helps him up, not caring when Dark Shadow bumps him aside and fusses over its master.

"You're going to need to be more careful," Izuku says. "Anyone faster than Dark Shadow's turning radius will give you problems."

Tokoyami rubs his chest, wheezing. "Again."

"Are you sure?"

The glare he receives roots him to the spot because it's not mere annoyance there. No, there's a rage that seeks to bubble over and explode outwards.

"Yes," he grounds out. His friend takes a breath and the threat in the air vanishes. "Forgive me. I inherited my father's temper."

Do not underestimate me, Shadowshield, Dark Shadow snarls, angry now where its master is not. There is no wish empowering you now.

He blinks. What?

It's not important, Mikumo says.

This time, it goes a bit differently. Dark Shadow stays close to its master, not going on the offensive in fear of being caught out. It makes little difference. This is like fighting Ojiro if the blonde wasn't skilled and technically gifted in martial arts.

He chooses to take the slower path to victory. He strikes relentlessly, moving faster and faster until Tokoyami is drenched in sweat and Dark Shadow reacts slower and slower. He talks the opportunity to slide past Dark Shadow and plant an elbow squarely in Tokoyami's gut.

He has a punch ready when Dark Shadow returns, wrapping around its master's torso. When his fist strikes true, it feels like punching dragon scale. The pain startles him enough that he forgets to moderate his skill level. He pirouettes on instinct, and his heel lashes out to hit Tokoyami on the head.

Pain. Then darkness.

He blinks away the darkness, feeling someone shake him. Tokoyami is crouched over him, red eyes worried.

"Midoriya, can you hear me?"

"St-stop shouting."

"I'm not. I believe you have a concussion."

Izuku shuts his eyes. The light is too bright. "How? I didn't-what even…"

"Something I have been working on. Worry not on the matter. Let's get you to Aizawa."

Aizawa takes on look at him and pulls out a small flashlight. He flashes it in Izuku's eyes.

"Not a concussion," he concludes. "You just have a headache. Take some painkillers and get some rest."

Izuku takes his advice. Perhaps four pills is excessive, but it does get rid of the ringing in his ears.

As the weak goes by, he becomes more used to the movements of his classmates: Iida, surprisingly, seems to favour all offense all the time whilst Ojiro is more cautious; Ashido is like a ballerina when given the chance to use her acid, and Sato is an absolute powerhouse when he's had enough sugar. He knows that they all keep things back and practice at home. Izuku does the same, meditating for weeks in the abyss as he inches closer and closer to using a full percentage of One For All without hurting himself.

Sparring with Tokoyami always bothers him. Not because it is difficult—Izuku is more than fast enough even with his limp to close the distance—but because sometimes when he's gotten past Tokoyami's defences, and the boy is exhausted, he finds himself waking up in pain.

"Okay, what was that?" Izuku asks, drinking from the bottle Tokoyami gives him.

"Do you trust me?"

"Yes," Izuku says quickly. There is no one else who knows as much of his quirk outside his mother.

"Then trust me when I ask you not to worry. Just as you have much to learn of your quirk, I too have lessons still be taught. You aided me in walking this path. I ask you trust in me."

"I'm going to worry because we're friends. It's not about trust."

"Perhaps it is not. If you wish to know, I will tell you. You are one whom I can only ever tell the truth."

His sincerity is obvious to Izuku. He can feel it in his bones. There are chains, invisible, yes, that bind them together. They pull and slacken the longer he knows Tokoyami. And in this one case, whatever duty Tokoyami feels is like a noose around Izuku's neck. He could get the answer, but something would change between them. Perhaps not for the better.

"Promise me you'll come to me if you need help."

"Always."

Shouta Aizawa is ready to go back home and deal with his other duties. Only another two hours, maybe three at most, and he can finally pass out. That is his plan until he gets a message from the Principal to meet at a location outside the city. He considers throwing his phone away and pretending he never saw the message.

He can't do that. He is many things, and Nezu's most trusted confidant is one of those. It also comes with very many responsibilities that only Nemuri and Hisashi know, and only because he can't be in three places at once despite what Nezu may think.

Calling Nemuri this late at night doesn't bother him. He knows she'll be awake, probably binge watching some show. Insomnia, apparently, is the great equaliser in life.

She answers on the third ring.

"Hello Shouta," she purrs sensually. "I think I can change my plans for you. You know I'm always ready for late night visitors."

"You're in pyjamas and don't have makeup on. You probably look like a mess. Even if I was interested, I wouldn't get anywhere near that."

He hears her chuckle. "That's just part of the fun. We'll make a man out of you yet."

Going home and saying fuck it all sounds very appealing right now.

"Okay. Here's what you're going to do. I need you to do some digging on Hisashi Midoriya." He cocks his head, remembering the day Izuku nearly broke. "Actually, it might be Hisashi Atakani. Use whatever backchannels we have to the police and government. Just do it quietly."

She hums in consideration. "What brought this on? I know you're worried, but this is digging deep into the kid's background."

"Know your enemy."

"Are you being serious?" He stays silent. "Fine. Get me something nice tomorrow."

He calls Hizashi next. His friend is most likely asleep right now. It takes about six rings before Hizashi answers.

"Hizashi, I need a favour out of you."

"It's midnight," he says groggily. "Bother Nemuri."

"She's already doing something for me."

"Okay. I'm interested now."

"Go to my home and get the files in the safe, third level. They have all the details for what I think is an exchange of escaped villains with corrupt cops. Track them quietly. Make sure you don't get the cops involved. We're using them to monitor which groups are active."

"Don't have to tell me. I know how it works. I expect answers tomorrow."

With his two other jobs for the day dealt with, Shouta can get on with Nezu's request. This is the real reason he is forever exhausted. Where other teachers like Vlad can call it a day once the kids are gone, he is forever stuck dealing with threats and problems.

He might complain if he didn't love UA as much as he does.

As it is, he simply drives to the location in silence, mildly amazed that he doesn't fall asleep at the wheel. The facility is outside city limits and secluded from any other signs of human habitation—the closest charging station for his car is twenty minutes away.

Nezu is smoking when Shouta arrives. The principal jumps off the bonnet of his modified vehicle and lands on Shouta's shoulder. Nezu waves and the gate opens.

Shouta walks through it. "Why am I here?"

It leads to a simple reception area. A woman in very normal clothing greets them. The only sign that she's part of the staff are the holographic sigils on his shoulders. The woman leads them through the facility, saying nothing.

He notices that it's clean and lacks the smells of antisceptic or sickness that he expects. And it's bright and warm, inviting with all the plants—real plants, not fake plastic crap—and strips of grass lining some of the corridors.

It isn't at all what he expects from a mental institution. No, it looks like the sort of place rich people go to when they're old and about to die.

"All UA students are being kept here as per your request, Principal Nezu," the lady says once they've reached a doorway.

"Thank you. We won't need your services to return."

The woman bows and leaves. Shouta watches her go warily. "Do I want to know?" He gestures at the sealed door.

"The Sports Festival generates quite a bit of revenue. A lot of it goes to this place to keep it open. In exchange, they don't always report the prior affiliations of certain individuals to the authorities and certainly never to the media."

"Sometimes you scare me."

"Only sometimes? Shouta, what reason would she have to tell me something I already know?"

It takes him a moment to figure it out. Shouta sighs. "Because I didn't know. Why are you still trying to give me lessons?"

"Because I need you to be ready. This attack at USJ is only the prelude. It's a sign that the pieces are in play and everyone is moving to win."

"You make it sound like a war."

"Life is a war."

Nezu jumps of his shoulders. There's a biometric panel on the wall near the floor, suited only for Nezu. More proof that he really does control this place.

The metal bars on the door retract and the door hisses open slowly. Soft orange light greets him. The hallway is surprisingly longer than he expects. It still has the same vibrant paint and plant life, odd due to the security required to enter the area.

Shouta follows behind Nezu. The rooms are large and look more like a studio apartment than the white padded rooms the media has conditioned him to expect. A glass barrier separates him from the residents. Only some of the rooms are occupied but each occupant shares one commonality: they don't register Shouta or Nezu on a higher level.

"These are all UA students?" he asks after they pass a male with wickedly sharp claws extending out of his hands, feral eyes tracking his every motion.

"Former students, yes. I take special care to ensure our reputation isn't tarnished." The rodent points to a winged mutant with steel feathers. "Killed his sibling after a psychotic break about two years before you became a teacher. I'm glad we retrieved him and dealt with the situation before the media discovered."

Dread creeps down his spine. "How long have you been doing this?"

"I've been protecting UA since before you were born, Shouta."

He stops at room where a student hangs from the ceiling on a thick strand of spider silk, spinning languidly. His bed is cocooned in the stuff.

"This doesn't look like protection."

Nezu chuckles. "You see her?" He's pointing at a lady surrounded by arcs of lightning and floating in meditation. "She got recruited as part of a volunteer team to Chile. She lost control of her powers and caused her plane to crash. Lost her memory. We found her five years later acting like a god over a newly discovered tribe. And what do cruel gods expect?"

Shouto swallows his rising gorge. "Ritual slaughter?"

"Of course. How could you expect anything else? It did, however, support a theory that quirks are spread through a vector. It supports why East Asia, where the first quirk appeared, has the highest percentage of quirks but regions like Iceland, South America and New Zealand have the lowest percentages."

"It worries me that you can speak so casually about this."

"You get desensitised. Three students are just the beginning."

He glares at the principal's back as they descend to a lower level. "Don't joke about that."

"How old are you again? Thirty? Sometimes I forget how young you are. You aren't really old enough to remember the last time this happened."

He shudders. "That worries me more than you can imagine."

The principal hums. "Some twenty odd years, before your voice broke, an interesting thing happened."

There's only one thing the principal can be talking about, only one event that's engraved onto the psyche of every Japanese person alive.

"Taiwan."

"Yes. Taiwan. Twenty million dead on that island. Then the purge of Shikoku. The anti-quirk riots starting in Hokkaido."

"I was there," he snarls, suddenly losing control of his emotions. "I lost my mother to the riots. Stop acting like I don't have anything to do with it."

"My apologies. That was never my intent. But as a child you wouldn't really have paid attention to what happened to the hero academies. You see, some idiot in the government thought the students could be used to help."

"No." He can't imagine sending out any of his students during that chaos.

"Not a bad idea in theory. Rescue and relief efforts would have alleviated the overburdened pro heroes. But of course, they found themselves on the frontlines. Some because they were arrogant and thought they could make a difference. But mostly because extremists with guns don't differentiate between adults and students. I think, on average, every hero academy lost one in three students."

That's the same as losing seven of his students. He's already lost three. Four more and the statistics will line up. He takes a breath. Forces down his rising horror. Follows behind Nezu as they reach the lowest level.

"I told you I would handle the parents," Nezu says, gesturing to the first of the rooms. "Do you understand why now? I doubt you would have the stomach to look them in the eye and tell them this is the best option."

He's staring at Mineta. The boy is awake, eyes wide, but focusing on nothing. He is strapped down to is bed, arms and neck bloody and raw from what look like recent scratches. The boy hasn't been here longer than three weeks, and his state makes Aizawa sick.

He startles when he notices Hagakure. It's like staring at a floating hospital dress. "Toru," he whispers, approaching. "Hagakure."

The floating dress remains where it is, still but for the mild rustle of the air conditioning.

"She's non-responsive. As is Mineta. Kouda shows mild signs of possible recovery."

Aizawa looks to the boy. He's huddled in a corner of his room, staring at the two of them. Kouda's eyes track his motions, but they are glassy and unfocused. There is only a vague indication of higher thought, and he wonders how much is merely a projection of his worries.

"How did you get their parents to agree?"

"Humans are simple. You respond well to sincerity and empathy." The principal meets his gaze. "Plainly put, I manipulated them into accepting hush money. A large cash injection and a guarantee of the best medical treatment in Japan is usually enough. Besides, they knew the dangers when they permitted their children to enter a school for heroics. The terms are rather plain in the agreement."

"I'm starting to worry that you have plans within plans you're not telling me about."

"You never ask."

"And that they aren't to our benefit."

The principal stops. "Shouta, be very careful of your next words. This isn't a threat, I'll just be severely disappointed if you haven't put any thought into them."

"You just admitted to manipulating parents into accepting hush money because we messed up."

"I did. I'm doing some very cold calculus. On balance, of the three, Hagakure's quirk is the only one whose loss is noticeably detrimental. She would have made an excellent covert operative."

He feels something churn in his stomach. "Is that how you look at my students? As pieces on a board? As assets to be used?"

"No." The wave of relief that floods him is embarrassing at his age. "I see children whom I have failed. I wish, sincerely, that I could have spared them this. But I must also look at things as a cost-benefit analysis. It may have cost me three students, but I've ensured Midoriya remains at UA and not any of the other hero academies that pump out easily mouldable soldiers for the government to snatch up."

"It always comes back to him. That kid suffers enough at home. He doesn't need that kind of treatment from us."

"He's a tactical asset, perhaps strategic. It's only conjecture, but he became that… thing when he died. Drop him in hostile territory and you can win many battles."

"That's against so many rules in the Second Geneva Conventions."

Nezu laughs, a hint of his cruel intelligence shining through. It is moments like this that remind him just how terrifying Nezu is when he isn't acting the role of a perpetually polite principal.

"You sweet summer child," he says, contempt and pity in equal measure. "If I was a general and I had to invade a country, I'd fire Midoriya right at their most important cultural monument and let him wreak havoc. It would destroy moral. And if the negative aspects of his powers propagate memetically, then you may not even need to send additional soldiers."

His fists clench tight until his knuckles hurt and his bones creak. "He's not a soldier or a piece on a chessboard."

"But that's what we all are. I don't like chess. It's too… limited. Shogi, perhaps, but too many people use chess metaphors to bother with changing. You're my right hand, Shouta. The queen on my side, I suppose. I've groomed you to be spymaster and general both. Strength of mind and strength of will. You have both in spades. Come, we'll use this exit."

The abrupt change in tone throws him for a loop. He follows the principal's direction to a side passage leading further from the entrance.

"Tell me the truth," he says eventually, resigned to being a cog in the principal's plan. "Who are we fighting?

"The world. The entire world. I plan on keeping UA independent from the government. The crown is much too powerful to not consider an enemy."

"And the villains. You said nothing about them."

Nezu snorts. "Those are a given. And if you had any inclination to work with All Might, then I might tell you more. Until then, I'm keeping you out the loop."

He stops. Closes his eyes. Pushes down the anger.

"You trust him. Of all people, you trust him."

"Why yes. He has uses that you do not. Just as I have Power Loader deal with the security of our data networks or how I have Snipe perform duties you cannot stomach—you would, I think, be surprised by the number of reprisals we experience from China, Australia and the Taiwanese Remnant. UA decides the face of heroics in Japan, and for that we are and always will be a target. It takes much to ensure our freedom to operate."

This late into the night, or perhaps this early in the morning, Shouta has little energy left to argue with Nezu. The principal will do as he pleases, and Shouta won't be able to do much about it.

It is on the way back that he sees something that stops him dead in his tracks. There is nothing truly unique about the room

"Rei?" he asks, unsure if that blue hair and those red eyes are real. "Is that Rei?"

Nezu nods. "Yes."

"How?"

"A drug overdose. It's had some… negative psychological effects."

He forces down any sympathy he has. After all he's heard, he knows how cruel life can be to those undeserving. And this girl had made her choices.

"I knew she had little potential, but this is disappointing."

"Not even the slightest bit of empathy for your former student. And you call me cruel." Nezu jumps on his shoulder. "You did expel her and the rest of the class. Don't you consider this your fault?"

Shouta snorts. "She made her choice. It's sad, but she had no drive to be a hero. She could have been as powerful as Stormwind if she cared."

"That's why she's being kept here. Her powers are such that no one wants to maintain responsibility of her. She hasn't used them once since she was admitted."

"Odd. I always needed to tell her to stop using her quirk outside school. She enjoyed flying."

"I wonder, would she have been a just hero where Stormwind chose the role of tyrant? Perhaps she had the power to become the next Symbol of Peace. Hero, may she forever be at peace with her lover Legion, is undoubtedly stronger than All Might. And Stormwind stronger still. That's a lot of power you chose to let loose."

"She had the power but not the drive."

Nezu sighs. "If you hadn't expelled her I could have convinced Hawks to take her on as an apprentice. Why couldn't you have just waited until I came back from my vacation? Just three more days."

Shouta rolls his eyes. "Get over it."

It takes him a while to get to his destination. With how close it is to dawn, he probably won't be getting any sleep. Unless he gets Iida to organise the two hours he has with the class in the morning. That sounds like a great idea. It means two whole hours of sleep and time he doesn't have to spend with irreverent brats.

And he's not certain if he can deal with children. Because looking at them means he must consider much more than just getting them through the year. After what Nezu has shown him, he must consider their futures long after they leave the institution.

Right now, though, he can ignore that and observe his target from the vantage point of a roof, hidden underneath an awning. He's covered from two directions, his back exposed but he is certain he'll be able to notice anyone trying to ambush him from there.

There is enough space for him to set up the high-powered scope, the field drone command module, a wideband EM signal detector and a few other odds and ends. He had thought this might be excessive when he was loading the equipment, but he's starting to wonder if he's packing too little surveillance equipment.

The compound isn't his target bit it's very close to it. And the amount of security it has is mildly ridiculous. Especially since it isn't a gated community of any sort. No, it's just a bunch of townhouses hidden by dead-end streets, lots of trees, and the ring of two-story homes he's very certain contain only security guards and observation equipment.

He's spent a lot of time doing reconnaissance in the past and he knows the apartments are too quiet. There aren't any lights on from people who would be awake at this hour. There aren't any homeless people sleeping on the benches despite how well protected they are from the elements.

The security is immense and comprehensive, the sort that requires military grade sensor equipment to observe. He is glad, then, that Power Loader can make equipment like that in his sleep and knows when not to ask questions.

The Midoriya household is just outside the compound. It is smaller, less ostentatious than the rest. It looks like an afterthought, the sort of place someone with a decent insurance pay-out can afford, not the very obvious home of a secret millionaire. It is unassuming, noteworthy only because it is very clearly where the poor people in the area live.

Except, the longer Aizawa observes the area, the more certain he is that the household always has at least two people observing it at any given point. It takes him even longer to find the security grid and note how it seems isolated from the rest of the community, a singular defence rather than a village wall. The amount of money for that level of security is staggering.

His phone vibrates. It is Nemuri.

"Yeah?"

"Nothing so far. The man is a ghost. He's got hits up until around his early thirties then he basically vanishes. He's in maybe one picture with Marasu Bakugou that I could find, but everything's disappeared."

"Data scrubbed?"

"By professionals. The kind that cost a lot of money. Or some really shady connections."

He looks back to the home with its very impressive and well-hidden security system. "Any guesses?"

"Nothing right now. Standard pyrokinesis quirk so there's no reason for him to have been recruited by a black-ops group. He got a bachelor's degree in finance, a master's in data analysis, and worked in a risk management firm. Honestly, Occam's Razor says he ran away from his marriage or that he's secretly a villain. Either or on balance of probability."

"Find out what you can about this area. Title deeds. Previous owners. Prior construction contractors. Anything. Just forward me stuff as you find it."

"Okay, sounds…"

"What is it?"

"Someone's bouncing a signal off my computer. How the hell am I being hacked remotely in real time?" He hears her rummage through her stuff over the phone, her movements sounding frantic and her breathing rapid.

"Nemuri? Talk to me."

"Unplugged it at the power source. I'll have Power Loader check it tomorrow and run it on a private network. This thing is more encrypted than a government server. How the hell did anyone get access?"

He suddenly becomes very aware of someone behind him. He turns, ready to fight, but finds a man wearing a dark overcoat and holding a holographic emitter.

Shouta curses. "I'll call you back," he says before ending the call and pocketing the device. "Didn't know you had jurisdiction here?"

He's staring at the bright emblem of the imperial household, the white chrysanthemum. Every teacher at UA knows that type of hologram emitter. You very literally can't copy it, and it only activates to a single person's biometrics and only when those vitals matched an acceptable deviation of baseline vitals.

There's no denying the person before him legitimately works as an Imperial Agent, and Shouta may just be fucked. Because at best he's dealing with one of their paper pushers.

"The moment you stayed here for more than five minutes we mined all of your data," the man says, his voice soft and without seeing his beard Shouta would think him a woman. "I'm surprised Nemuri noticed the signal."

"Don't call her that," he snaps.

"Would Midnight suffice?"

For some reason, that sounds like a threat. And Shouta isn't certain he can win this fight. He remembers in the wake of USJ how Nezu had admonished him for knowing nothing of the imperial household and had taken it upon himself to learn more. And everything he had learnt made him very much doubt his chances of winning a fight. Especially if this man is part of the Royal Guard.

If that was the case, he'd need Endeavour to level the playing field even slightest bit.

"I'm going to give you the benefit of the doubt and assume you're here to observe Izuku Midoriya, one of your students, and not any of the other residents."

"And if I'm not?"

The man huffs. "I won't kill you if that's what worries you. I won't break our agreement with you."

"I've never made any agreement."

The man tilts his head in confusion. "You represent UA. As far as the world, or the portion that matters, your words are the same as UA's. Have you never wondered why people simply listen to your words without question?"

He keeps his expression blank. He's never really noticed that. It also worries him that Nezu is still keeping things from him.

"What is this place?" he asks instead. "Why the hell do you have so much security here? And who the hell are you?"

"I'll answer only because many of my subordinates still hold you in high regard. Yes, we do acquire a few of your students occasionally. There are residents there that provide critical information for us. And my title is Itinerant."

"Let me guess. They're political asylum seekers, spies whose covers have been blown, and a few reformed villains." The man inclines his head just so. "And the Midoriyas? They have the most security."

The man shrugs. "Whatever your issue with the Midoriya Inko, I could care less so long as you keep it to regular work hours outside of this area and within the confines of legality. But Eraserhead, don't you dare come here again. We have too many vested interests that don't come into conflict with yours."

"I think they do." Because if these people are protecting Inko, or know about Izuku's quirk, then he has more problems when it comes to Izuku than he imagined.

"We're not looking to recruit the boy if that's what you're worried about." It's only part of what worries him. "His quirk can be a danger, so we're here to ensure no villains attempt to apprehend him."

He doesn't expect the candour. "And you expect me to believe you don't want to use his quirk."

"Shadow generation and a powerful strengthening ability. I'm interested in its origins. Whatever discoveries you make, I'll learn of. You're a guinea pig. Go tell your rodent master to stay out of our business. We won't consider this a violation of our agreement."

The man disappears in a wave of something that hurts Shouta's eyes to look at, perhaps broken time. He looks around and takes note of how he is alone. He removes his phone and finds it functional. He makes a call.

"Nezu, we have a problem."

"One to ten."

"Eight, maybe eleven. It seems the imperial family have an interest in Izuku."

A/N:

I know wasn't the best at replying to reviews. Two reasons for that. 1) Some fucker got me sick on the very first day of school. Still am but not as bad as the weekend. 2) I was at school and my teachers really like assignments for some weird reason. Regardless of the reasons, sorry about that. I did read all the reviews multiple times. Never doubt that I very much do appreciate any and all feedback. Thanks a bunch for the continued support folks.

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.