"Dekuuuuuuuu!" Ochako trilled, running up to Izuku Midoriya with a bird-like chirp and heated, rosy cheeks. "How was your internship? I learned so much in mine!" Uraraka puffed her cheeks and made a noncommittal pump of her fists, bouncing in the air. Izuku couldn't help but smile warmly, almost wanting nothing more to wrap her in a hug and forget the horror of the Nomu and Stain existed for a moment.

He dug his heel into the sidewalk, offering a sidelong glance to the calligraphy U.A. buildings, flash of yellow in one of the windows. "I learned a lot in mine too, Uraraka," he replied, right hand scratching between his shoulder blades before his fingers knotted themselves in the phthalo green hair on the back of his head. "I worked with the Gran Torino," he laughed nervously, "you were with… Gunhead, right?"

Uraraka doggedly nodded, her bangs bouncing on her forehead. "That's right," her voice gained a somber cadence, gaze growing steely, "I was with the Gunhead."

"Doesn't he specialize in armed martial arts?" He reached out and poked her shoulder, expecting a characteristic squeal and instead got a darkened glower. Izuku swallowed, retracted the finger, and let his hand slip into his pocket and wrap comfortingly around his phone. "I-I mean, Uravity," he teased her hero moniker, "its good you're getting out of your comfort zone! Martial arts training is great!" He felt suddenly loose-lipped, and winced. Bright red shoes scuffed on the cobblestone courtyard path, and filled the heavy silence with clumsy noise.

"You know I'm joking around, Deku," Uraraka giggled, tucking her thumb into nervous fists and gnawing subtly on her lower lip. "I did learn a lot though," she pondered, rolling her head for a moment, letting her bangs tickle her cheeks.

"That's so great," he tried to sound supportive, though there was something utterly weighed down in his posture.

The slump of Izuku's shoulders into a dull parabola brought a worried crease to her lips as she nibbled on them. His walk wasn't the purposeful militaristic forward stomp through the verdant, flower-crusted courtyard it normally was, ducking under the gleaming leer of the U.A. Academy entranceway with a reverence. Ochako Uraraka had always found some of her classmates to drone, trod mindlessly as they walked the winding stone carpet towards their heroic destinies. Sometimes she wanted to puff her cheeks and scream, both because they clogged walkways with their ponderous plodding and because it seemed a stark under-appreciation of the U.A. institution. Really, the bumblebee fliers— dull and clumsy— failed to appreciate the grandiose promises of heroism, the indomitable charitable spirit of what it meant to be a savior. Deku had taught her to reap the benefits after, a thought that twitched her lips into a tiny smile. She felt a sense of determination just thinking about it.

These were, of course, machinations she kept quiet. Deku wasn't a plodder, which meant something had gone wrong. A tinny bell's ting sounded in her head and reverberated in her rib cage, sending her heartbeat murmuring. The familiar toll of instinct.

"How was your internship, Deku?" she prodded gently, giving him an expression she prayed silently was maternal. "You said you learned a lot. I've never heard of the Gran Torino," Uraraka's voice held an air of confession, and her fists balled tighter, "so I hope he was really cool."

Izuku perked up, like he was jolted with a live wire. "He really was! He had this jet quirk that made him super fast, even if he was kind of a geezer," he laughed a bit. "And I got a much better grip on my quirk thanks to him." He gave his hands a furrowed stare, as he milled about before classes. "I'm really excited to test the limits of what I can do, I think I'm going to be a much better hero now! There's all sorts of things that I think I'm much better at, but mostly my control," he sighed anxiously, "I know it isn't realistic to use a quirk like mine when I keep hurting myself, but…" Izuku trailed off, knowing he was beginning to ramble. The sun began glittering in harsh lines over the visage of the school building, and he was squinting rather ridiculously, mouth agape with the clogged thought.

"Buuuuuut?" Uraraka rolled her wrist, gesturing for him to continue.

"But I think… I'm doing much better now. I've sort-of tested out how all the things I've learned perform, too," he swallowed his contradiction to her, any prior joy melting to a stoic mask, "and they're pretty effective."

The same weight from a few nights ago came back crushingly, and he wobbled on his feet. Izuku's mouth gaped and his shoes scuffed, face instantly a trio of shades paler, knees quaking, before he clenched his stomach in an instant and steeled himself. He felt so ill, so sick and broken.

Uraraka's mouth was poised to ask a question of his health, before she was interrupted promptly with a stream of overeager puppy classmates. By then, color had returned to Deku's cheeks and he'd been swept off by Kirishima, Kaminari, and a few of their other friends, leaving her in the dust even when Iida gestured rather aggressively for her to join the huddle. Izuku put on a brave face between the soldier throngs of his classmates, Uraraka catching tentative glimpses of his expressions as she lurked on the outskirts of the conglomerate. Flashes of his faces as he talked in the bull's eye center of the horde, no evidence of the instant of weakness he'd offered her a glimpse of. It was a snapshot of memory in her mind taking on a cryptic sort of quality: she wasn't certain of its realness.

"Deku!" she called out, trying to reach her hand over the group. "De— Izuku," she trailed off, shuffled backwards, and circled round towards the school. Izuku reached helplessly towards her once, before resuming his conversation nervously. More weight settled against his chest, and Midoriya took one flittery inhale before smiling back to his other friends.

Uraraka glanced back as she walked trepidatiously towards class, flickers of Izuku catching her line of sight. Always smiling Deku, laughing Deku, embarrassed Deku, intimidated… masks. Facades. There was a deadness to his eyes that terrified her, stiffened every muscle in her body, before she darted off inside to find a faculty member. Izuku craned his eyes over the crowd to catch sight of her, but no, Uraraka had darted off. The group grew in her stead, 1A, 1B associates joining the horde, talking fanatically about their internships.

"Hey man, did you see that video of the Hero Killer?" Mineta and Kaminari leered over a phone screen, Kirishima idly peeking towards it, Tokoyami and Jirou catching half-gazes. Todoroki gave Izuku a passive look, before walking towards class in that ever pragmatic march of his, steely as always, and Iida appeared homey. Deku's mouth felt dry, and he felt like he was swallowing a sandpaper-coated slug before lurching towards the group in a half-melting walk, like a dripping icicle. No one paid much mind, the dialogue of Stain was overpowering.

"This society is overgrown with fake heroes," the video started. Izuku had watched it in his police station once, but he had slammed the laptop shut and pushed it away with his bare toes as he waited for interrogations. He was there, he didn't need to see it again…

The crowd oo'ed. Midoriya shuffled towards the source of the sound, a bestial panic taking over his movements. His classmates started an angry secondary dialogue of 'hey!' and 'watch it, Midoriya!' as he moved forwards.

Iida surveyed the crowd from his great height, brows furrowed at the sight of his friend panting heavily as he struggled towards Kaminari. A tiny trickle of mental questioning began to flow and babble, brook thoughts of a mind normally raging like a river. Foremost was one he voiced aloud.

"Midoriya," he muttered to no one but himself, "I think something may have gotten into you."

His authority as Class President made him a valid candidate to try and improve Izuku's health he thought… or so he questioned. Heroes analyze situations before they form a battle plan, at least Engenium did, his fists curled, that way their motives are sound of heart and encourage the least casualties.

In that moment, Izuku Midoriya himself was contrastly having a very different panicked set of thoughts. They'll all become villains! The video has been pulled down from popular websites to prevent things like this, his lungs squeezed, like a great pair of hands vacuuming out the air, why are they playing it? What is the point? They'll start to sound just like…

"Hey!" Izuku screeched, having reached the eye in a hurricane of people. "You," he panted, "y-you shouldn't watch that."

Kaminari snorted. "Hey Midoriya," his face fell lopsided, eyes twinkling— he seemed genuinely happy to see him. "What's up? Been a hot minute since we've last chatted. Everyone was talking so I couldn't really hear you, man—"

"Turn it off!" Izuku lunged for the phone. "Its villain propoganda!" He realized One for All had brought an unhealthy glow to a pale face, and he was surrounded suddenly in an infused ball of silence before he inhaled sharply, tears pricking in the corners of his eyes, and tried to quell simmering thoughts. Silently, Iida shuffled closer. I have to seem rational, Izuku thought to himself, swallowing back tears, otherwise they'll never believe the power Stain's words have. They're my friends, so I just have to act… friendly. He settled on a characteristic nervous smile.

Simultaneously, a scuffling pair of footsteps shuffled slowly towards the class. Heat licked his fingertips, and a scowl sat primly under crimson eyes. His uniform, per mandate, was wrinkled and followed an approximate single-digit number amount of the school's dozens of dress codes, and the shock of blonde hair atop his head could cut paper into cutouts, as always. "If something is fucking happening," he called through the suffocating silence, "you better let me in on it."

For once, Izuku ignored Katsuki Bakugou's intimidating scowl. "I-I'm just saying that with what happened, there's been a spike in crime. And the League of Villains obviously is getting braver, with all the N-Nomu's dropped in Hosu City," he held his hands up defensively, before his left flitted up to tangle in the back of his hair, "I just want to make sure we're being respectful to all the fallen heroes, y'know?" His cheeks burned, and Kaminari snorted.

"Midoriya, you're always here to set us straight," he laughed, "just as much as our Class Prez," he jutted a thumb to a stiffening Iida. "But I gotta break it to you dude, I'm pretty sure everyone's already seen it. We're all heroes in U.A. high!" He suddenly enthused, "we'll make sure to pay respects, but more importantly, that no scumbag walks around like that again. Right guys?"

"Right!" A flurry of enflamed fists roared into the air.

The group, in an instant, dissipated. Bakugou stared at Deku unblinkingly, before slamming into his shoulder as he shuffled to class.

"Shitty Deku," he glowered.

Izuku sighed, his phone buzzed, and he glanced downwards, pausing to feel numbness. He felt the weight of Atlas, all of Earth pressing atop him. The weight of the world's greatest future hero. His knees almost buckled.

All Might ۹(ÒہÓ)۶: Young man, today I need to talk to you about your quirk.

Iida looked back in a split-second to his friend, still panting under his breath, before shaking his head with a regality and marching to class with the Class President brand gait. Deku was the All Might of their group, no matter how anyone spun it. His morals were the clearest, cleanest, and most brightly glowing— with the actual All Might in his corner, the funk would shatter, he was sure of it.

Meanwhile, Izuku felt a growing, lilting sense of loneliness. He waited for the courtyard to empty, and then walked solitarily into school.