(A constant flow from one to another—"I entrust"—)
Dirt and dust in stinging cuts, arms burning with adrenaline, exhaustion, but eyes wide with vigor, the high rise of warring fear and excitement and a sharp smile pulling chapped lips taut—
Practiced movements and direction like the flowing of a river, smooth as a well-rehearsed routine as legs sweep outward and over, eyes sharp and footing light to weave between blows and strike—
One laughs and shouts and yells and snarls as a cornered animal refusing to go down even as the flickering embers die out—
One pushes the limit with the calm of the eye of a storm and feels the ebb of power passed on as a receding wave—
He wakes up with sleep-crusted eyes and hazy impressions from a far-off dream. Words echo distantly in his mind as he readies himself for the day, unconscious and on the cusp of memory.
("I pass on this power to you.")
The first few days at UA are peaceful. The general education courses feel no different from what he took in middle school aside from them being at a higher level, and other than the occasional cracked pencil from distracted fidgeting or the slightly odd, colorful characters in the school's faculty, it's been surprisingly normal. Easy enough to adjust to.
Izuku zooms around the apartment looking for his misplaced phone. Eyes trail over the table, the kitchen counter, he checks under the couch, his jacket pockets, the fridge—he just had it a few minutes ago in-between texting All Might and checking the hero app, and somehow he misplaced it when all he did was go to the bathroom—
He cuts a corner too close and stubs his toe on the leg of the living room table.
"Ow sh—oot," he says, stuttering on the word unnaturally. He turns to glance at his mother.
She notices his look from where she's sitting the couch and shoots a smile his way. He smiles back, albeit weakly.
... He tries not to swear in front of her.
Izuku finds his phone in the back pocket of the pants he's wearing—his mom just laughs at him when he tells her, saying that it happens to her too—and he waves a quick goodbye before shoving his shoes on and tripping out the door.
All Might is already at Dagobah beach when he gets there, and greets him with a pat on the head. "So what's on your mind?"
"Sorry for calling you out here like this," Izuku says first. It's not late, not unforgivably so, but the sun is already set. "I've been wondering about a few things but I hadn't seen you around school, so…"
All Might rubs the back of his neck as he tilts his head. Izuku winces at the crack that he almost feels himself. "Yeah, I had to attend to a few things and haven't been on campus all that much, so my teaching plans have been pushed back. An... acquaintance of mine, hasn't been feeling too well, so I've been making trips to make sure he's all right." He murmurs the next statement with a shiver, "Even if my worry hasn't been exactly welcome."
Izuku blinks, curiosity piqued, but it doesn't slip his notice that All Might is skirting around the specifics. And while the man can be discreet if needed, he isn't exactly… covert. Most of the time.
He'd rather not pry if it's unwelcome. "I hope he's okay now," he settles for.
All Might gives him a smile he thinks is grateful. Or just in lieu of not having anything else to say. He sits on the wall's edge and pats the space next to him, and Izuku hops onto the wall as well.
"Right. So." Izuku clears his throat. "I wanted to ask some more about One for All. About, well, the people who had it before you."
He'd wondered about it ever since the entrance exam, of course. It was hard to ignore those flashes of scenes and emotions he'd felt, but it'd been difficult to bring up for reasons he still can't give definition to.
"Ah." All Might turns to look towards the ocean, gaze to the scattered stars. "Well. I can tell you about my master, but not about the rest."
Izuku stifles the slight lurching he feels, his voice coming out only slightly louder than intended. "What? Why?"
"I… Don't know about the rest," the hero says. "My master mentioned her own in passing a couple times, but never anything concrete. I'm afraid even their names have been lost to time."
There's a heaviness to All Might's shoulders as he says this, and Izuku thinks about One for All. Of the five other users that have been buried and forgotten just as his memories have been, of their lives and sacrifices that were never acknowledged.
He shakes his head and asks about All Might's mentor, and his heart feels a little lighter when the man's answering smile rivals his hero-smile.
Shimura Nana was an amazing woman, All Might tells him. Power in strength and charisma that more than matched her ideals. She believed strongly in saving the hearts of people, made it her goal to protect their smiles and happiness along with everything else.
"I was just a kid at the time, but she believed in me and my dream. She looked at me, quirkless in a time where it was almost as rare as now, and decided, 'You're going to be a hero.'"
Izuku's eyes go wide at the information. All Might just smiles, the expression edging a smirk as he pats his shoulder.
"Right. Just like you. But also different. Just as my master had believed in me, I believe in you. It's too early to say exactly what direction you'll go in, but I have confidence that you'll achieve whatever it is that you set out to accomplish." He suddenly coughs, the sound more wet than it ought to be, facing away as the fit continues. He waves a hand at Izuku's concern and wipes the side of his mouth as he turns back to the ocean. "Maybe… Maybe you'll accomplish something that I couldn't."
"Something you couldn't?" Izuku eyes the smudge of red warily. "What do you mean?"
All Might only shrugs. "I don't know. I just have a feeling that you're going to do something that's going to shock me."
It's such a blasé statement at odds with the tone of the conversation. Izuku laughs, caught off guard—All Might chuckles too, but he knows the man's words weren't any less honest.
It's almost weird and a little daunting, but mostly reassuring, for someone to have such unwavering belief in him.
All Might tells him more about Shimura Nana. About how she trained him, how much he looked up to her, about the time he and her friend played a prank on her and she returned it tenfold with a beguiling smile—and through the ease, the contentment at filling in the gaps of another person that helped build not only the quirk he now holds but raise the hero he most looks up to…
He can't help but feel a twist in his gut at the knowledge that he's never heard of Shimura Nana. And a part of him wonders, the part that can't stop thinking even into the quiet hours of the night, Was it deliberate?
Once is happenstance and twice is coincidence. But for everyone up to All Might to have remained in shadows, never given the light of day, he can't help but wonder if it was on purpose.
Did they think they had to live out their lives in obscurity, quietly protecting the world? Is that what his legacy had turned into? Honing One for All in silence, never to be recognized…
Why? Izuku asks himself. Was it the weight of the responsibility? He doesn't remember telling the one he'd passed it to to keep it a secret, or even alluding to it being necessary. Sure he has a lot of gaps in these memories, but that seems like something important enough to remember.
He doesn't want to think it's because they all died before they could do anything. He doesn't want to think that something of his creation might have played into them all falling before being able to live out their lives. Shimura Nana lived to adulthood, at least, so it can't be too much of a stretch to hope that a few others did, too. And yet…
He considers another piece of the puzzle, and an answer slots into place.
My brother, he realizes. He flinches as if burned and backtracks, physically shaking his head. The—the brother of my memories.
And then he frowns, feeling naive. Of course it's All for One. Facing a threat like him, they didn't have much choice. To protect the public, he couldn't be made a public entity—a man who was chaos, evil personified—or people wouldn't be able to live safely, happily. Not with a looming threat of that magnitude.
All for One's influence was a lot like a mirror of All Might's own. And listening to a portion of the man's history, knowing what he knows now, helps reconcile…
Wait.
A thought occurs to Izuku like a shock of electricity. What did happen to All for One?
Izuku has never heard of him in his life aside from myths no one took seriously, not in a single history book or reference page. He can only assume that somewhere along the line, his legacy had snuffed out the man's influence. History is written by the winners, the survivors. All Might's own influence must have been a final push to erase his existence from society.
So it was… A success? Izuku considers this with a strange lack of feeling. Detachment, he thinks. And even despite not remembering clear dates, he knows it's been well over a century—All for One would've been dead by the time Shimura Nana inherited One for All. So perhaps her reasons for secrecy were personal, explaining why he'd still never heard of her even in passing. Even without All for One spearheading those who felt wronged by society, the clashing of ideals can be dangerous. Maybe the same applied to the previous holders, too.
But without a doubt, it was a heavy responsibility that the man in his memories left on the shoulders of others.
(Izuku tries not to think too deeply on how this makes him feel.)
He jolts when he feels a brush against his arm. All Might gently tugs his hands apart with a quiet look, and Izuku sees the red-smeared hangnails before he feels the pain, the slight tremble to his hands.
Ah, he thinks distantly, I did that.
The ugly marks he subconsciously made on his own skin stand out in a faded array of blotchy color in the dim lighting, and he contemplates.
He wonders how much of his thoughts are his memories, and how much is him. Midoriya Izuku. It'd be so much easier had it all ended after that man's death, had these memories never existed beyond a man that lived and died. It's annoying, a part of him thinks, while the other is already used to living like this.
He's used to it, at least in part, which is why he's confident that what he's feeling now—the sadness—is his.
He, Midoriya Izuku, thinks it's sad that the previous holders were buried by time without a flicker of acknowledgement for the lives they lived. That whatever marks they made in history were never recorded, smoothed over with time, not even remembered by those that inherited the legacy they helped to build.
I think it's sad. Isn't it?
(No answer surfaces in his mind. They are memories of a previous life, echoes of a life once lived.)
There's only a quiet sadness that's his own.
"Uraraka?"
Ochako pauses where she's packing up her bag, brightening when she sees who addressed her. "Midoriya, hi!" She packs up her last textbook before slinging her bag over her shoulders, beaming at her classmate and friend. "What's up? Wanna walk with me to the gate?"
He smiles brightly in response, and Ochako feels a small victory at that.
Midoriya Izuku doesn't smile much, she's noticed. At least not in any way she's used to. Whenever he smiles, it seems closer to a grimace, a hair's breadth away from a nervous baring of teeth, as though trying to stretch an ill-fitting expression onto a face that rarely uses it. She thinks it's a shame, that, because there are moments like this one—this is only the second, really—that she thinks she sees a real smile from him.
"I actually have to check in with Present Mic, but I can walk with you out the building?"
They make their way out of the classroom and wave goodbye to their classmates that have yet to leave. Midoriya slides the door closed and joins her at an easy pace.
He looks deep in thought. He kinda seems to get lost in his thoughts often, Ochako has noticed. If Iida is the type to hyperfocus on outside problems and loudly make them known until they are fixed, by his own hand most often, then Midoriya is the type to fall to his thoughts and get stuck until someone physically pulls him into a conversation.
So.
"Midoriya? What did you need to talk about?"
The hand pulling at his lip pauses, and awareness seems to come back to his eyes. "Ah. Sorry, right." After a pause, his hand goes up to pull at his fringe instead. "I actually wanted to thank you."
Ochako tilts her head to the side. "Thank me? For what?"
"The entrance exam. I heard that you went to Present Mic to try and get me some points for saving you, and were even more adamant when you found out I had none." He winces, looking sheepish. "I had meant to thank you sooner—like, on the first day of school—but I… forgot. Sorry. And again, thanks."
Ochako laughs, touched that he'd think of that. "Don't apologize in the same breath you thank me! And it was just me returning the favor. I don't know for sure that I'd have gotten out of that situation if you hadn't done something." She nudges him with her elbow, smiling. "And besides, we both got lots of points for that. I'd say there's nothing owed."
He laughs then, quiet but honest and she feels like it's yet another small victory.
"By the way, Tsuyu was wondering where you were at lunch today," she says. "We just invited you to eat with us the other day, and today you were nowhere to be found. Iida almost convinced us to put together a search party."
Midoriya blinks, surprised. "I was invited today?"
Oh, Ochako thinks. She would hug him if she was certain it wouldn't make him uncomfortable. But, ah.
"I forgot my wallet at home so I kinda figured that there wasn't a point going to the cafeteria…" His hands fiddle with the straps of his bag. "I just found a shady spot outside and studied. Sorry if you guys thought I was avoiding you."
Ochako shakes her head. "Tell that to Iida. He seemed disappointed."
Midoriya winces, but the expression quickly turns a shade indignant when Ochako laughs at his reaction.
"Well," she says as they exit the building, "thanks for walking me out here. I better go see if Tsuyu made it to the gate before me."
Midoriya just gives her a silent nod and a wave, and turns in the direction of the faculty offices.
She watches him dart away with startling agility, a little bemused. He's one of the friends she's made here, technically the first classmate she had spoken to. The only other two she'd found such easy camaraderie with were Tsuyu and Iida, and she hadn't really spoken to either of them until this past week. He's a little odd, a little awkward, but Ochako knows that she enjoys his company.
She shakes her head and turns to the gates.
Something tells her that this year isn't going to be the simple, predictable high school life that others might associate with the institution. And while part of that is because she's at U.A., she also has a feeling it has to do with her classmates.
Her parents always said that she attracted trouble. Well, her dad said that, while her mom would say that she went looking for it. A rough-and-tumble, adventurous spirit, they called it. It might've been why they hadn't been surprised at her chosen path in life, aside from the fact they knew she wanted to help with the family finances.
Either way, Ochako has already found friends in some of her classmates. She'd already known that the path to heroism wouldn't be an easy one, so having friends to work alongside could only help to motivate.
It's only fair if she tries to help them, too.
If there's one thing I don't like about my life now, Midoriya thinks a little morosely, It's English.
Present Mic's lectures are surprisingly normal in that, minus the visual volume of his hero outfit, Midoriya could expect to see him at any other English lecture. That's not the issue, and it actually makes him admire the pro hero just a bit more.
It's also not that Present Mic isn't a good teacher. The man's teaching style is easy to follow and he pays attention to the levels each student is at, which is surprisingly hands-on. He's a good balance of serious and interesting to keep less enthused students from falling asleep or getting distracted.
It's just… Tedious.
(The man in his memories had a similar relationship with the language despite being passably fluent. His brother had also been fluent in about half the languages in existence, and in their younger years, they'd relied on it quite heavily. It's unfortunate Izuku can't really benefit off of that.)
They're released for lunch after an hour, and Izuku goes face-down on his desk with a sigh. A headache pulses against the walls of his head, but for once, it's without connotation or anxiety and fear—it's just tension.
"Midoriya!" He recognizes the voice as Iida's. "Are you joining us for lunch?"
Izuku nods his head, hand reaching for his bag, grasping the strap, and hanging there. He doesn't make a move to leave his desk.
The next voice comes from a closer proximity after a few seconds. "Midoriya-chan?"
"Hey, Asui," he greets politely. The words come out slurred because his face is currently glued to the surface of his desk. "Are you eating with us today?"
"I think that's the question we're asking you," Tokoyami's voice murmurs from somewhere behind him, and he finally pulls his face from his desk.
He hasn't spoken much with the boy, and he doesn't really know why he makes a point to know Izuku. But it feels wrong to brush him off, somehow.
"Yeah, I am. Just needed a moment to regroup, I guess."
"I don't understand why you are so reluctant when it comes to our English lessons," Iida says with a frown. He's standing closer, now. "You seem to do well in the classes."
Izuku stands from his seat, pulling his bag with him. He doesn't really know how to answer that. "Just a personal preference, I guess?" He pauses as he sees the rest of them standing around, realizing they were all waiting for him. "Oh. Uh, sorry for making you wait. I was just being dramatic."
Uraraka and Asui smile, and Tokoyami shakes his head.
When they get to the cafeteria, Tokoyami sees something that draws his attention and he tells them he'll meet them at the table. Izuku and the rest get in line, the others conversing as Izuku squints at the menu.
He isn't able to decide on what he wants by the time it's his turn, so he just takes the first thing at the serving station and walks up to join his friends as they look for an available table.
"—many people sitting already!"
"—I think I see some available seats on the table by the back."
"But Tsuyu thinks Tokoyami is bringing a friend so we should probably find a table for six." Uraraka turns to Izuku with a smile as he sidles up to them. "Got your food?"
Izuku nods. "What did I miss?"
"Nothing much," Iida replies, glancing down at his food with a look of utmost concentration. Izuku wonders what he sees. "According to Uraraka and Asui, Tokoyami will be bringing another friend. As his other friends, we should save seats for two others."
Izuku bobs his head in acknowledgement. It feels a little more crowded in the cafeteria than usual, somehow, even though there's no reason why it should be.
"Doesn't day-to-day life feel like it's going kinda slow?" Uraraka starts. "I was super pumped to see what U.A. would do, throw us into a pit of snakes or into battle, but it's been so… Normal."
Asui presses a finger to her lip. "That sounds like something Kaminari and Ashido might think up, not what Aizawa-sensei would approve of."
"That's true. And it's not that normal is bad, just… It's U.A., y'know?" Uraraka raises her free hand into a fist and slowly punches the air a few times, careful not to jostle her tray. "I was expecting like, wham, bam! Crazy stuff, different from middle school."
Asui smiles, and Iida clears his throat.
"As it so happens, I asked sensei about that the other day after class," he says. "He informed me that the schedule has been moved around to accommodate a personal emergency, but that we should not relax just yet, and I agree. If we don't stay aware, we might be overwhelmed when we least expect it."
Izuku bites into his lip to keep from smiling. Trust Iida to seek answers to questions before everyone else even realizes they have them.
But his interjection reminds Izuku of an idea he'd been considering, and he blurts out the question before he can think better of it. "Hey, do you guys have your own training regimens?"
Asui and Uraraka blink at him for the non sequitur but Iida is quick to reply. "I've been trained up with basic conditioning exercises since I was young. Aside from the standard physical activities for school, I've trained with a focus on speed and agility, and balance for anything else that may help hone my body as a vehicle for heroics!"
"That sounds impressive." Uraraka laughs as she looks up to the ceiling, thinking. "What I've done isn't as professional as that! I just did what we were told to in school, jogged a bit… I was part of a sports club in middle school and played baseball with the boys sometimes. My strength training was pretty limited to helping my mom and dad with the business."
"I've kept pretty fit because of looking after my siblings, but otherwise I've focused on flexibility in my spare time," Asui says. She turns to Izuku. "Why the curiosity?"
Izuku considers his words. "It's pretty obvious that we all have big differences in our current styles right now, however underdeveloped they may be right now. As we adjust further to using our quirks in conjunction to targeted tasks, those differences will only grow. But I was thinking—"
"Ugh, Deku."
"Geh, Kacchan," Izuku tosses back without a twitch. "I was thinking that we could form a training group or something together. We may have our specializations, but this early on, we could work on rounding ourselves out to better prepare for whatever U.A. might have in store for us."
It'd been a topic that he found himself revisiting many times. There are things he wants to be able to accomplish as a hero, and there will always be tasks to complete in his broad—and admittedly somewhat fanciful—goals, many of which will require honed abilities across the board. He's at the starting line where it all begins. The only way from here is up.
(It speaks a bit of restlessness, for sure, but Izuku thinks it's warranted. They're all on the heroics track and it'll only get more difficult. Being too prepared isn't really a possibility in this instance.)
Uraraka and Iida stare at him strangely. Asui presses her finger into her lip. "Hm."
Izuku feels a bit like he's under a microscope. "You guys don't have to agree to it, of course," he says in a rush. "I just thought I'd throw it out there. We don't have very specific styles this early on, except maybe Iida, so it'd be a good idea to try new things." He pauses, adding a little reluctantly, "Aizawa-sensei said that no good hero only has one trick, and I think that makes a lot of sense. So… What do you guys say?"
"Free table!" Uraraka suddenly shouts, eyes wide, and she veers off to the left sharply. Asui and Iida are quick to follow, and Izuku tries not to feel dejected.
"Gosh, I almost thought we'd be standing through our lunch," she says brightly, settling down into her seat. "Anyway, about what you were saying—I think it sounds like a lot of fun! I don't know how much I could contribute but I'll do my best."
Iida adds his own affirmative as he sits down, and Asui nods her head. The slight tension in Izuku's shoulders loosens.
Tokoyami arrives then, with their classmate, Kouda, in tow. Introductions aren't necessary, but Izuku does ask for confirmation—"Kouda Kouji, right?"—to which the boy gives a hesitant nod.
"Kouda-chan doesn't like to speak much," Asui interjects, and the other boy seems relieved. "He uses sign language."
This forms the topic for a small while, with Kouda showing them a few signs and Tokoyami acting as a sort-of interpreter despite only knowing a handful of signs himself.
Eventually, Tokoyami asks, "What were you guys discussing before we got here?"
Izuku brightens, explaining his idea for group training and his reasoning behind it, watching a spark of interest rise in both of their eyes.
Tokoyami is amenable to the idea, as is Kouda.
"Since Iida is the one with the most structured routine, I think he should lead this. I think he's the most physically fit, too." Izuku pauses, then turns to Iida with a nod in his direction. "I'm in your care."
The others turn to him as well with their own echoes of the sentiment, and Izuku hides a small smile. Iida seems a little off-kilter, but he recovers quickly and is unable to hide that he's pleased. They work together in figuring out the workings of the plan, trying to draw up a schedule where most if not everyone is available, and Iida promises to do his utmost in preparing a training session that won't have them regretting trusting him. Izuku feels weirdly touched at the boy's enthusiasm over the idea.
Conversation lulls a bit from there, when Asui turns to him with unreadable-as-ever eyes.
"What was that earlier?"
Izuku doesn't know what she's talking about. His confusion must show, because Iida is quick to add, "She is referring to your exchange with Bakugou! I have been wondering if you two were friends ever since I heard that you both came from the same middle school, but you do not seem to spend time with him as much as with us. He is also a very robust personality."
"That's one way to put it," murmurs Tokoyami.
Uraraka takes a bite of rice, leaning on her other arm. "I'm curious too. Are you friends? What's going on?" She pauses, brows furrowing. "... He's not being mean to you, is he?"
Oh. Huh. Izuku thinks about his answer and pretends to not notice the five pairs of eyes currently trained on him. "Well, we're… I think we're friends. We've known each other for a while, so I guess we're childhood friends."
"Childhood friends? Really?" The disbelief in Uraraka's tone is palpable. "I mean, I guess I can tell you guys know each other pretty well, but… You guys act a little…"
She trails off as Izuku nods sagely, holding her gaze with grave seriousness. "We've known each other for a long time. Kacchan is just naturally abrasive to everyone, especially people he considers like…" Izuku makes a face. "... Rivals, I guess. I don't really think about him like that though. I think we're a lot closer to siblings. Not entirely willingly associated, but that's just how it turned out."
"Well you're a shitty brother."
Uraraka and Iida jolt in surprise, turning around. Izuku just sighs around his spoon, "Kacchan, how would you even know that when you're an only child and I'm the only person you yell more than three words at?"
"You don't have any siblings either." A pause, and Izuku knows he's paying about as much attention to this exchange as he himself is. "And you're still a shitty brother."
Izuku tries not to roll his eyes. If he's being honest, he doesn't try that hard.
He struggles to stifle a laugh when he sees the pinched look on Iida's face and the way Tokoyami and Kouda watch with varying surprise. Uraraka seems as humored as him, and Asui watches with a knowing look. She probably knows what it's like—she's an older sibling herself.
Inwardly, Izuku considers himself and his once-neighbor. He knows that the other boy wasn't, still isn't, the most well-adjusted kid. Izuku had done what he could as a same-aged equal to nudge him in the right direction, which admittedly isn't much, but at the very least Kacchan knows he isn't infallible. Through the years he's grown a peripheral awareness of his own stubbornness when it comes to certain concepts. Any more change would depend on Kacchan himself, and the people outside of his family that he decides to associate himself with.
Izuku chews his food thoughtfully. The same could be said about him, too. He didn't really have friends before—middle and primary school saw him struggling with memories that weren't his own along with a perception of his all-too-young peers that left an insurmountable rift between them. But now, in high school, that he's more well-adjusted and amongst peers working towards a similar goal…
Well, he's already made some progress, and the hope is that he will be able to make some strong friendships. It'd be nice to be able to grow up surrounded by people I care about. Lasting bonds that stand the test of time, he thinks good-naturedly.
His chewing slows at the thought. He's reminded of his last conversation with All Might, along with a realization he hasn't dedicated enough time pondering out of reluctance.
Regardless of how they fought, clashed, and eventually parted ways, he can admit to wanting to know what happened to the brother in his memories. While a part of him wants to avoid the issue altogether, he can't help wondering if learning a bit more might bring some closure to his situation—and allow him to focus on the relationships he has here, in the now, rather than the regret and emptiness and other bad things of some other life.
There were… His memories, they had times of reprieve. It wasn't all bad, with small moments of peace between brothers shared in their earliest years. Moments free from the tension and clashing views that eventually strained their relationship, from the constant battle for power that destroyed what should have been lasting trust.
Izuku wants to know how that brother's life ended. Partially in acknowledgement of what once was, and so he can move on.
But he doesn't know where to begin in that search. He can't remember dates, names are lost, locations and faces are a vague blur, and what he has to go off of is sparse. The twisted legacy the brother in his memories left was a heavy one no doubt buried as deep as possible, and without specifics he will probably hit a dead end. There isn't much he can do.
"Midoriya?" He pulls himself out of his thoughts at Iida's voice. Uraraka stares at him with a concerned pinch to her brow, Asui, Tokoyami and Kouda watching as well. "Your lip is bleeding, you probably shouldn't touch it so much."
Izuku moves his hand away from his face and sees the small smudge of red staining his nail. He touches his lip—Yeah, that kinda stings.He prods a bit more at his lip as he wonders if this has become another habit.
He shakes his head, "I'm fine, sorry, I was thinking about some things. This happens sometimes. It's just a habit." He turns to Uraraka—he thinks she was the last one speaking. "What were you saying?"
The strange look is wiped away and replaced with a grin. "I was saying I like your nicknames for each other. 'Deku' and 'Kacchan'? That's cute!"
Izuku shrugs. "'Kacchan' is just altering the characters of his name like a diminutive. 'Deku' is supposed to be an insult based on a different reading of my characters, a no-good person."
"Oh," she says, frowning. "I thought it was like… It kinda gives the feeling of, 'I can do it!' That's what I thought, anyway."
"I think that's cute," Tsuyu pipes in. Iida immediately tries to jump to his defense, saying that the meaning behind it is decidedly not "cute."
Izuku laughs at their antics, his face warm. "No, you're right, that's a nice way to look at it. If you want to call me that, then go ahead."
"Hm." Tsuyu blinks. She addresses the table at large, "Then call me Tsuyu."
Iida looks torn between honoring Tsuyu's request and his own idea of propriety, and Uraraka grins. Kouda is prodded into quiet conversation as Tokoyami leans back, closing his eyes but seeming comfortable.
It's easy to get caught up in the pattern of school, surrounded by his classmates—friends—like this, being drawn into their varying rhythms. It's easy to relax and feel like the teenager he is.
And it's in this steady peace that he comes to his decision.
It's fine. Bringing up the past only seems to disrupt the natural, peaceful flow of his current life. The world is a far cry from the times of upheaval and terror that his memories remember, there's no reason to dig up the dead—whether it's his memories of a past life, or the past life's brother.
He's here, in the now, and he can just focus on living out his life. The life of "Midoriya Izuku."
He's owed that much at least, he thinks.
All Might bursts into the room after lunch, shouting, "I hope you're all ready for the real challenges to begin!"
His usual smile is in place, bright as ever, as everyone marvels at the number one's appearance in their classroom.
"I'm sure you've all been very excited to see what else the hero course has to bring. It was a little delayed, and I apologize for that," All Might halts at the podium, striking a pose, "but now starts the next step in defining your futures as young heroes!"
Something in the wall clicks, and columns with numbered boxes slide out of the wall with a mechanic whirring. Izuku realizes All Might wasn't just posing, he was pointing to the wall.
"Today is your first taste of Hero Basic Training, and thus your first big step towards your goal. Of course, you'll need the costumes you filled forms out for." He spins on his heel as students leap from their seats in excitement, cape billowing out dramatically.
"Now go on, don your hero outfits and meet me at Ground Beta. Today, we will be undergoing battle training!"
All Might leaves shortly thereafter and Izuku feels both a little like he was just tossed around by a whirlwind and like he'd just met his favorite hero. Which, both have a measure of truth. He grabs the outfit his mother had sent to the school for inspection, and heads to the lockers.
There's something about this that has a sense of finality. He holds the material in his hands, his pulse a steady but loud rhythm in his ears. Excitement, anxiety, anticipation—he puts on the suit and feels his back straighten reflexively.
Izuku's hero outfit is vastly different from anything else he's ever worn. The material is more flexible than his usual wear, a weatherproof and durable material he couldn't hope to name the specifics of without a list, the fit tighter than he's used to. And yet, it provides an easy comfort. Confidence.
(An outfit he'd designed before, when his dreams were nothing more than reflections of the awed wishes of a child.)
His eyes roam the pale seams of the gloves his mom gifted him. She'd gotten the whole thing for him, but the gloves specifically were custom made.
"I wanted to make the gloves special, because I wanted you to feel like—you'll think I'm being silly, but as you grasp your future, I wanted you to feel that I'm with you. I didn't believe you before and I'm sorry about that but—but now, mom knows. I'll be right here for you the whole way."
At his silence, she'd gone on to reassure him that the gloves were well made, she'd asked a friend, a professional in the industry, to make the gloves.
(He'd hugged her then, arms held firmly around her shoulders.)
Izuku slides the gloves on. He feels the thick material stretch easily across his knuckles as he flexes his hands, the fit snug and comfortable. They're sturdy. Reliable and strong; safe.
As always, he thinks. He murmurs a quiet thanks under his breath and steps out.
Ground Beta is expansive, an impressive replica of a sprawling city, but they head to a building not far from the entrance. Passing through streets, Izuku realizes it's the one of the areas that had hosted the entrance exam.
All Might briefs them on the plan, two-versus-two indoor battle training, one side as the defending villains and the other as the infiltrating heroes. The villains aim to play keep away with the bomb until the timer ends to win, whereas the heroes need to make contact with the bomb—capture being an option for both.
Straightforward, Izuku thinks, and effective. Not only will it give them a taste of battle with unknown foes, it will force them to adapt to working alongside someone unfamiliar in battle situations.
He gets assigned to Team C with Kacchan and he amends, Well, it's still a new environment.
Teams E of Iida and Uraraka and A of Tokoyami and Ashido are the first drawn from the lots, villain and hero respectively. The rest head to an observation room and Izuku itches for his notebooks.
Tokoyami and Ashido dart into the building as soon as the preliminary five minutes are up. The room is silent as everyone watches the screens, Uraraka and Iida discussing and getting into character, Ashido and Tokoyami navigating as they keep an eye out for their opponents.
All Might is the only one that can hear what's going on, a communications device fitted into his ear. But the both sides have clearly worked out their individual plans.
First contact is with Uraraka when she nearly traps them with falling debris. Ashido and Tokoyami are quick to react, Dark Shadow forming a defensive shield overhead and acid melting through what passes. Uraraka retreats back to the room housing the bomb and the clash begins.
A dry pressure rests behind Izuku's eyes as he stares at he flickering screens. His mind drifts, but he pulls himself back each time.
The first round ends with Team E victorious, and All Might calls for a huddle to discuss what happened.
"An excellent performance from both teams, you should be proud! Now, can anyone tell me what they believe to be the most outstanding details from the scenario?"
Yaoyorozu is the first—only—to raise her hand. "The cooperation exhibited by both sides is worth noting. Ashido and Tokoyami quickly adapted to each other's fighting styles, both alternating close and long-range without much issue. Uraraka and Iida set up the field extensively and did admirably in keeping the bomb from getting into the other team's hands, using their quirks when necessary and also working in tandem in actual battle. However, the hero team behaved recklessly with acid and wide-strikes in such close proximity to the bomb, the villain team making similar reckless moves in trying to physically maneuver the bomb away. As heroes, defending or retrieving, we need to act in a way that best preserves the surroundings with as little collateral as possible. All in all, both sides started off strong but all strategy and planning were tossed away in favor of a short-sighted goal towards the end." A pause. "I'd say Iida performed the best. He was the only one that went into the trial taking it seriously the entire time. The others underestimated their opponents or got distracted at key points that could've have shifted the odds in their favor."
Izuku had not analyzed nearly half that amount. He feels marginally better at the slack-jawed expressions of his classmates and the clear shock All Might tries and fails to conceal.
"Well, that's… That's very good!" All Might gives her a thumbs up, his grin appearing no less confident than usual. "You mentioned everything I had to say about this round. Very impressive."
All Might draws for the next group. "Teams C and D!"
Something in Izuku's mind snaps to attention and he briefly wonders if it's possible for a person to physically vibrate out of their skin. Uraraka and Iida call out to him for good luck, Tokoyami, Asui, and Kouda giving more subdued acknowledgements, and Izuku remembers to respond in kind.
Yaoyorozu and Shouji, he considers, rubbing the fabric of his gloves between his fingers. Yaoyorozu's quirk is creation, I think based on restructuring fat cells into usable items based on atomic structure and knowledge on the working mechanisms of the target object? She has a terrifying mind. Shouji's quirk isn't as easily placed but I doubt it's limited to versatility and enhanced strength. He doesn't remember the walk to the site.
He's measuring the width and height of the bomb room's entrance when Kacchan calls out to him. "Oi Deku, over here a moment."
"We should split up for now," Izuku says as he jogs over. "Neither Yaoyorozu or Shouji are direct-line fighters, at least not as much as we are. Splitting off would give us a wider scope for what angle they might try in approaching us, since a direct approach is unlikely. One of us should force them here—it shouldn't be too difficult since they'll be aiming for the bomb anyway—and we'll have them cornered for takedown. We don't want to go the time route because it'll give Yaoyorozu more time to plan and I don't know about you but I don't want to give her the chance—"
Kacchan makes a derisive noise. "Whatever, we can do that if we don't think of anything else. I need to know what you can do." He narrows his eyes. "Unless you slacked off and did nothing."
Izuku blinks. Kacchan stares at him expectantly. Izuku blinks again, slower, and then it hits him—Kacchan doesn't know. He knew my general level before I met All Might, but I've improved a lot since then.
He also has One for All now.
"No new fighting styles or shifts in strategy," he says, tapping fingers in count. "Maybe more refined than before. I started a new training regimen though, so my stamina and strength are significantly higher. I also have a strength quirk now."
Kacchan's head snaps to him so fast Izuku wonders if he hurt his neck. The sound of teeth clicking a moment later tells him that his jaw had been hanging, and he watches sharp eyes narrow. "... How much control do you have?"
"Like a five-year-old you."
A snort. "Then we'll be fine. Plan Box-'Em-and-Kill-'Em's a go, I'll scout out and funnel 'em here. Don't let your trembling fuck you up."
Box-'Em-and-Kill-'Em, Izuku mouths. "Don't let your confidence get to your head." Due to the bulky gauntlets on his arms, it's only thanks to Izuku's unfortunate familiarity with the other boy that he recognizes the gesture thrown his way as the middle finger it is.
When Kacchan's steps fade, Izuku goes around the room twisting the abundant capture tape around and between the concrete pillars to create a path straight to the bomb. It's a simple and obvious ploy, but if the other team is panicked enough, they'll subconsciously focus on avoiding the obstacles.
As much as he may muse their acquaintance as a one-sided rivalry between two unwilling pseudo-siblings, he can't deny that their dynamic is part of what helped him maintain a sense of who he is.
Midoriya Izuku is the only son of Midoriya Inko, the friend of Bakugou Katsuki, and the biggest All Might fan he's ever known. He's quirkless, but he dreams of becoming a hero.
He steps away from the capture tape, measuring out enough left for his opponents. It won't keep them from using the pillar to their advantage, but it'll at least provide an obstacle that could trip them up if harried enough. He walks over to stand before the bomb, ignoring the throbbing at his temples and focuses.
Not now, he thinks. Focus on the task. Think like Iida.
Izuku breathes through stretches, feeling his muscles loosen and the jitters die away. His attention sweeps around the room, ears picking up only the sound of fabric and his own breathing, gloved fingertips brushing the floor beneath him for disruption.
You are guarding a nuclear weapon in your stronghold. You are a villain. You can't let the heroes get to the bomb. You are a villain.
He hears the approaching sounds of battle, telltale explosions rattling the walls, growing louder, the smell of dust and fire a faint burning in his nose. His vision narrows to a point.
For Bakugou Katsuki, change came erringly slow with heavy reluctance and occasional denial.
He can't say when he and Deku had started drifting apart, but he'd been fine with it. One more or less head trailing after him, he hadn't given a shit. It hadn't been enough for him to make note of when it first happened, as was the case with anyone else that had attached themselves to him. It'd been no outstanding case, just that he'd known Deku a little more at the time because they were neighbors.
But one day he'd looked Katsuki in the eyes and said he was an equal, no more, no less. Katsuki had scoffed at the weird declaration, given a derisive, "whatever," and hadn't complained when Deku started joining him again on occasion.
It's still whatever, because Deku gets on his nerves even on a good day, but Katsuki can grudgingly admit that there's something about the routine that's almost settling—brothers, Deku had said, he wants to scoff but when he thinks about it it makes some sense—even though he still gets the urge to beat the shit out of him occasionally.
Not as in actual first-and-explosions beat, surprisingly, since the urge to physically wail on people without discernible reason outside of "their existence pissed me off so I decided to take matters into my own hands" had waned a while ago, maybe because that wasn't an accepted activity of heroes, but he definitely didn't shove his test scores in Deku's face when he aced them. Definitely not.
(Read: he definitely fucking did.)
That had the trade-off of Deku being a smart shit in turn and shoving his progress in Katsuki's face (however less blatant), but that was fine. It just meant Katsuki had to be that much better than him the next time.
And it's because of this sort of rivalry, the measuring of progress and competition, that he's noticed.
Katsuki's noticed that Deku changes at times. A shift, and he's acting differently, or not there at all. He never really knew what to do when either happened but it always worked out in the end. Yell loud and long enough or just leave him be, eventually, Deku came back from wherever he'd wandered off to. It never seemed to be a serious or permanent issue, so it'd been left at that.
(He never got why Deku's mom freaked out so much. The relation is definitely there.)
But right now, Katsuki thinks with gritted teeth and a snarl, we really don't have time for this.
He can't use the same level of explosive power he'd used before. Not so close to the bomb. Even if it's only a simulation, he knows he's being graded for efficiency and tactics as if it were a real bomb, and using even half his quirk's full capacity this close to a nuke isfucking stupid. He takes a (controlled) explosion-boosted leap over Six-arms' sweeping attack, ducks out of the way from a pole to the face courtesy of Ponytail—he narrows his eyes at his teammate standing around like an idiot across the room, head bowed and shoulders slumped.
Deku may be freakish at times but he's got brains that Katsuki really needs focused on the task rather than rotting away in whatever daydream he's caught up in now.
"SNAP OUT OF IT!" His moment of inattention costs him—Ponytail isn't bad with that shitty metal stick or whatever the hell she called it, and Six-arms's got six fucking arms.
The capture tape lining the room helps keep them from circling him but he misjudges a dodge and ends up getting the business end of Ponytail's stick to the face. "Fu—Goddamnit that hurts like a—DEKU, WOULD YOU FUCKING—"
A blur of green, and the pole is flung to the other side of the room, one end burying into the wall as it shatters mid-way. Two white gloves dart out, pulling Katsuki away from Six-arms' lunge as Deku kicks around and over to slam a heel into his chest.
A gloved hand snaps outward again before Six-arms goes flying, snagging a limb and pistoning a foot into his face.
"No new fighting style" my ass.
Katsuki lets a grin stretch across his face, eyes wide and pupils pinpricks. "Deku, you shit." In all the times they've knocked each other down a few pegs, he's never fought like this. It was always words, calm, quiet reasoning like an immovable wall.
But now? It's like he's finally decided to quit with the long-winded bullshit and jump straight to brawling. He fights like a thug, and it's as hilariously out of place as it is driving.
He flips and lands into a steady crouch, smiling. It's not a nice smile.
… Actually, it kinda reminds Katsuki of—
Deku leaps forward and through one of the pillars Ponytail is hiding behind, she lets out a yelp as he brings a foot down where she was sitting and twists to kick out a chunk of concrete towards Six-arms from an awkward angle but with pinpoint accuracy, backhanding a punch with ease—
—his mom.
Katsuki pauses in his advance, feeling an eyelid twitch and his expression twist at the thought. That's really fucking weird.
Deku focuses on Ponytail as she whips out weapon after weapon from nowhere, so Katsuki leaps towards Six-arms to push him back from the bomb.
They aren't doing well.
Momo grits her teeth as she ducks away from a grab and retreats a few meters back with Shouji, their opponents quick to close the distance. She swerves and twists and deflects when she can't dodge, sweat beads on her forehead as Midoriya's arm snaps outwards and disarms her of her newly made shield—it's a dodge-and-punch freestyle that's more rough edges than learned movements but it'sworking and is he even using his quirk!?
Midoriya and Bakugou are two highly offensive fighters while she and Shouji, while versatile, aren't at the same level for direct confrontation like this. Bakugou's strength and aptitude both with and without his quirk are things they'd seen firsthand during Aizawa's test, whereas Midoriya's strength had been more hearsay. Momo hasn't actually seen his quirk, and Shouji only saw the aftermath of it during the exam. But both of them had reasoned that there was enough evidence to assume the worst, pegged Midoriya as on offensive threat approaching Bakugou's level.
Not in complete control of his quirk, she had suggested, which Shouji agreed. His scores during Aizawa's test would have been more outstanding otherwise, instead of at odds with the immense destructive power from the entrance exam.
The point was that they were dealing with two powerhouse quirks and opponents, so they had discussed accordingly.
For planning, the two of them hadn't had many options. The capture tape wasn't going to work very well because of how quick Bakugou was, and Izuku was still more or less a wildcard. Their best bet had then been to head straight for the bomb for capture, keeping in mind the tape if the opportunity presented itself but otherwise not prioritized.
Use the tape on Midoriya if it comes to it, she'd decided. His apparent lack of control on his quirk was easier exploited, and would make it easier to take him by surprise. Then the two of them would work on trying to outmaneuver Bakugou to the bomb.
All in all, the plan was to avoid the two as much as possible, if confronted by Midoriya try to capture him, and head straight to the bomb.
But that had backfired spectacularly. They'd considered that one of them would come straight for them, but Bakugou had been on them almost as soon as they'd entered—he'd opened with blowing up a portion of an entire floor, blasting them and any possible hiding spots away.
At the time it'd seemed best to try out-pacing him to the bomb. After his flashy move he'd ended up placing them between himself and the path to the top floor, and Momo and Shouji had already decided that Midoriya was the less threatening alternative.
Run as fast as they can, keep Bakugou at their backs, surprise and overtake Midoriya to reach the bomb as planned. It had been their best bet when up against heavy-hitters like these two.
Momo hisses when a glancing blow bruises her arm but recovers in a breath, distantly noting the clatter of her tools as she keeps her focus in front of her. Midoriya's fighting is rough, wild and unpredictable in ways she'd expect more from someone that looks like Bakugou than him, but Momo isn't trained in several forms of combat for nothing.
He's sloppy, she thinks. Effective and quick enough, but haphazard, which is just as bad for him as it is for his opponent. I just need to wait for an opening.
She blocks a sweeping kick with a wince—he's also far stronger than he looks, and she's going to be hurting for quite a few painful weeks. She dodges a punch, deflects another and ignores the stinging of the unnatural force from the contact, ducks under another kick. He's quick and strong but his movements are messy, and— there!
She strikes out with her arm, snaking around his to grasp his shoulder, ignoring how even the redirected force of his blow makes her bones creak—she lets his own momentum carry him and slams his head to meet her knee with a loud thwack.
She winces at the sound but is quick to let go, turning to snatch up the discarded tape and eyeing the battle between Shouji and Bakugou. Shouji is losing. She doesn't have time to analyze but she also can't afford to charge in recklessly. She can't rush to the bomb because Bakugou clearly has his attention on defending it despite keeping up with Shouji—perhaps the only reason why he hasn't already ended the fight—and she'll need to tape Midoriya and help as soon as possible but what can she do to—
She barely has the time to duck when she hears the whistling of displaced air behind her, a leg sweeping overhead and she feels the way her hair pulls in the direction of the attack.
She lets her momentum carry her forward into a roll and is forced to twist to the side when a foot lands where she had been kneeling— lodging into the concrete.
Momo doesn't freeze to stare in horror, she's too disciplined for that, but it's a very near thing.
What is this, she thinks bemusedly as she's pulled into a fight against Midoriya again. She ducks but it's too close, she twists out of the way but his heel brushes her shoulder and burns—his movements are a far cry from the wild, haphazard brawling they were before, sharp where they were sloppy and contained where they were all-over. His style is refined, flowing, she can't help but think with mounting confusion, he's not even using his arms and he's still doing so well, spinning leaps and angled sweeps of heels—familiarity edges her subconscious and it clicks, Is he using capoeira?
His expression is calm and relaxed, his eyes focused and narrow. The concentration she sees in his face reminds her of sparring with her tutors.
It's just as well. Her own focus narrows into firm concentration, she slips into the careful mindset she's trained in for years as her body remembers rote motions and reflexes. Momo materializes the beginnings of a bo from her palm and he ducks the blow but she advances with her staff. Dodge, sweep, deflect, kick—he has significantly less openings than before, and she still aches and bruises where he makes contact, but this is her territory now.
His eyes shift over her left shoulder, distracted. She pulls at the capture tape, There, now I can—
Something slams into her from behind and the breath leaves her, she barely catches herself with her hands and then she's tumbling with the weight at her back—Shouji, she realizes mid-roll—and then she's splayed on the ground looking at the ceiling, capture tape securing her and her partner.
All Might announces Team C the winner. Defeat is a bitter taste on her tongue, but she fought well. Shouji offers her a hand up which she takes with a polite nod, thanking him for his aid. His shoulder twitches in what might be a shrug, and he nods back.
Momo's eyes travel to Midoriya as she listens to All Might's congratulations with half an ear.
She's disappointed at the loss, but she'd say that her and Shouji performed rather well. In the grand scheme of things, she'd even say they did better than Team C—their tactics had been reckless, dangerous in the face of defending a bomb, but they had still emerged victorious. And it wasn't a fluke.
She doesn't know how intentional it was, and how much of a read he'd actually gotten on his opponents, but it'd been a good strategy on Midoriya's part to hide his abilities as he had.
Keeping his opponents on their toes and using a hidden art to not only blind-side but force her to readjust her own style completely—it's a good strategy. Maybe not the first she would have gone with had she been in his position, but it's one of the ones she herself would have considered. It's never a good idea to reveal one's full capacity to the villains you're up against, and it gives you more control of the situation.
Momo has heard of the planned training some of her classmates have considered. There may be merits of joining the group after all, she muses to herself, still watching Midoriya thoughtfully. It looks like I'd benefit from participating. I could offer quite a bit to the group, too.
It's because she's watching him that she sees Midoriya turn to Bakugou, calm expression shifting into one of alarm and horror as he does a double-take.
She has a moment to wonder at the abrupt shift when her own eyes go wide, watching her classmate's expression go slack, his eyes rolling up and legs going boneless beneath him.
She darts up and catches him before his head hits the ground.
Inko looks up from the monthly billing statements when she notices the natural light turn orange.
She gathers up the papers into a neat pile and stretches, glancing at the time. Almost four, she thinks, considering options. I should start preparing dinner. Izuku will be home soon.
Inko smiles at the thought of her son. She wonders how school has been going, and how Izuku has adjusted to not only high school but the hero track.
The doorbell rings just as she's setting out ingredients on the counter. Izuku shouldn't be arriving home for another hour, and besides which he has a key. Even if he forgot his key at home, he knows that the spare is in the lockbox… She glances to the clock again, puzzled. "I wonder who that is?"
When she opens the door, she's met by a boy that looks to be about Izuku's age wearing an unfamiliar school uniform. Ashen blond hair sways with the slightest movement.
"Good afternoon, is this the Midoriya residence?"
Inko blinks, almost missing the quietly spoken question. She nods slowly. "Yes. And you are…?"
"Oh sorry, I'm Yokuo Kyougetsu." His words lack inflection as he speaks, but there's a nervous thread to his movement as he sketches a quick bow. "A, uh, while back, with the villains Magnete and Kingfisher. I'm the person your son saved."
Inko squints as she observes the boy further, his hair moving slightly at a breeze and revealing sunken eyes. It moves like feather down, she realizes.
"The police told me your address. I asked so I could thank your son personally but that took a while because of the nature of my request and privacy and, bureaucracy, I guess? Uh." He slowly pulls his hands out of his pockets. "By the way, is he here? Your son."
His nervousness reminds her a bit of Izuku's own personality. Though, based on the pallor to his skin, the dark circles under his eyes and his scraggly hair (feathers?) she suspects it may be for different reasons.
"He hasn't come home from school yet, but he'll be here soon." She steps back from the entrance, leaving the door open. "If you want, you can stay until he gets back."
"Thank you," he murmurs, voice almost too quiet to hear. She walks down the hall as he slips out of his shoes and tucks them in the corner. "Sorry to intrude."
While this is unexpected, something warms in Inko's chest knowing that this boy is grateful for her son's actions. When she asks if he'd like something to drink, he asks for water and she settles him in the living room. Inko returns to cooking as Kyougetsu busies himself with the TV, conversation sparse.
It's a little awkward, she thinks with a humored smile. All Izuku was interested in were heroes, so that's the only young-kids thing I really know. Ask me anything about heroes, but pop stars? Actors? Well, All Might has done a bit of both for the public, right?
She laughs at the thought. When Kyougetsu turns to her questioningly, she shakes her head with a smile.
A quiet "I'm home" and the shutting of the front door lets her know Izuku's back. She gives a reflexive "welcome back" and glances up when her son walks into the room, shoulders low and gaze distant.
Inko recognizes that look. She gestures him over to draw him into a hug that he leans into. He doesn't comment when she lets the embrace last a little longer than usual, only squirming when she presses a kiss to the top of his head.
She smiles into his hair and lets go, guiding him to the living room area. "Dinner should be ready soon. You have a visitor."
If she didn't know her son as she did, she would have missed the brief flicker of tension across his shoulders. It's gone in a blink, posture relaxing into something more approachable and calm as opposed to the bone-weary exhaustion from earlier.
He still gives her a slightly pained look. "You couldn't have warned me?" he mouths.
Despite his hesitance he doesn't wait to be told again before he's heading into the living room area. Inko returns to the kitchenette as introductions are made, keeping some of her attention to the conversation as she continues her tasks.
"—really grateful for you helping me. I know that a lot of people were angry at you for doing that, but… Really, thank you. My brother wanted to thank you for him, too, and if you met him you'd know that's a pretty big thing."
"Oh." A pause. "You're welcome."
Inko hums quietly, eyes focused pointedly to the cutting board as she tries not to smile.
"I wanted to ask, too, what made you run out there? All the heroes were talking about recklessness and immaturity, but I wanted to hear from you."
"Um, I mean I don't think the heroes said that in a mean-spirited way, that's probably what it looked like to them. Maybe 'reckless' isn't entirely inaccurate, I had a plan but it wasn't very solid and… I kinda just," Inko sees him gesture with his hands, mimicking a plane taking off. "Went?"
Kyougetsu nods. "I thought so, it wasn't as clear-cut as the heroes thought. Say, that's U.A.'s uniform, isn't it? You're becoming a hero?" Izuku must nod, because the boy continues, "I knew it! I had a feeling you were aiming to be a hero, and—to be honest, after that day I decided I wanted to be a hero, too. I didn't get accepted to U.A., the best hero school, but I'm a student at Isamu Academy!"
Inko connects the familiar emblem she'd seen on his blazer to the name. Isamu Academy had been one of the other schools Izuku had looked into.
Like a light switch, the mention of heroism has Izuku engaged in the conversation with ease. Inko's son asks Kyougetsu about his quirk, the two discussing the applications and possibilities, they talk about their schools, compare experiences, and while Inko catches the way Izuku deflects from revealing anything about the day or this "battle training," he's absorbed in the conversation.
She doesn't know what happened today. Izuku has been having a great time at U.A. thus far, and he's told her about everything from how it's surprisingly normal to the new classes and friends he has. When he'd walked in it'd been with the same distance and faraway look that he'd displayed at his worst, something she hasn't seen for years, and Inko had been prepared to fall into their routine for the situation.
She turns off the faucet and dries her hands with a towel as she turns around. Izuku isn't quite smiling, more a restrained upturn of the corners of his mouth than what she knows his brightest smiles can look like. But his eyes shine with excitement and energy.
Inko walks into the living room area and both boys turn to look at her. "Kyougetsu, would you like to stay for dinner?" When his eyebrows shoot up, she smiles. "Please don't feel as though you're imposing. You're technically the first friend Izuku has brought home for me to meet, even if you were the one that came here of your own accord."
Her son rubs his arm, muttering something apologetic-sounding under his breath at her pointed comment. Kyougetsu just nods with a poleaxed look.
That might just be his eyes, actually, she considers. The dark circles certainly don't help make him look calm and rested, at least.
She doesn't give voice to her thoughts and turns to Izuku. "If you'd like, you don't need my permission to bring your friends over. I'd love to meet them." She returns to the kitchenette, the two awkward teens on her heels to help set up the table.
It's been a whirlwind of activity. Her son's renewed determination and dream, him training for a year despite his setbacks, entering andpassing the U.A. exam, manifesting such a powerful quirk, and now being a student at U.A. on his way to becoming the hero he's always wanted to be. It's a little overwhelming for Inko. She's always worried about how he's fairing, not just academically or physically—how he feels, what's going on in his mind, if he needs help.
But she's happy for him.
And despite all that has happened, it's here, knowing that her son has saved someone—before all of that happened, while he was still her quirkless but determined, strong-willed son—knowing that he's making friends…
This is what makes her own resolve strengthen.
Izuku gives her a reflexive, slightly questioning smile when she gives his shoulders an affectionate squeeze.
She shakes her head. It's nothing, the gesture seems to say, even though for her it's everything.
Dinner is quick and filling, and when Kyougetsu leaves it's with a confused look from Izuku and his email.
As Izuku is about to get ready for bed, Inko calls him over. He makes an inquisitive noise but she doesn't respond, instead gesturing to his arm. Bemused, he complies.
She quietly runs her fingers over the creases of his hand. She can still remember the day she'd held him on her chest after a long night at the hospital, his hands not even the size of her palm and held in tiny, tiny fists. She remembers grasping tightly to his hands on especially bad nights during his childhood, when he was too shaken and claustrophobic for a restricting embrace but the warmth of her hand was a soothing alternative. Now, his hands are larger than her's.
"You know you can talk to me, right?"
Izuku stiffens.
"You don't have to. As long as you're getting support from somewhere, even though it might make me a little sad, then it's fine. But if you want to talk to me, or you need help… you know, right?"
She's still a little surprised when Izuku's other hand closes over hers, grip loose but warm.
"... I do know," he says, voice quiet. "Thanks, I do. But just… not yet."
Inko worries about him. She wants to ask for answers, demand them, wants to make sure her son is as well as he can be, that there isn't something else going on that she doesn't know. She worries about him.
(She's his mother. Maybe, she'll never stop worrying about him.)
She nods, letting go of his hands. She hugs him instead of drawing away, however, trying to put as much comfort and assurance into the gesture. Izuku makes a whining noise when he tries to pull away at about four seconds and she doesn't let go.
She laughs, then, and finally lets him wander off to his room, telling him to gather up his colored laundry because she'll be doing a couple loads tomorrow. Izuku shouts an affirmative her way, and the door closes.
It'll be okay, she tells herself. Inko can't push for answers that Izuku himself might not even have. She fears for the future, can't completely reason away the nervousness that grips her chest, but… it'll be okay, she thinks.
And even if it isn't, she'll do her best to make it okay.