The Centerstage Agency's central office was in Shibuya. There were smaller offices in other cities, places where the heroes could set up shop while they were on promotional tours or traveling for work, but Izuku had been ordered to the Shibuya office. As he and his classmates made their way to the train station, he couldn't help but worry about that. He hoped that he'd been right to think that it was Mic who had put in the offer for him. He didn't know what he'd do if there was another hero at Centerstage who had requested him.
"You'll do great," Hitoshi said as they hugged goodbye just before the turnstiles.
Izuku gave him a shaky smile. Hitoshi himself wouldn't be getting on a train, as Black Cloak was based, as much as a paper agency could be based, in Musutafu. The hero who had put in the offer was obviously based there as well, so he wouldn't need to travel at all.
"Just try not to embarrass yourself in Shibuya," Hitoshi went on when Izuku didn't respond. "A UA uniform is one thing; your gym clothes are another."
"I'll see what my mentor can do for me," Izuku assured him. He looked down at the briefcase in his hand, which contained the basic gym uniform he'd been wearing in lieu of a real costume for class. He was also worried about that.
"I'm sure Mic has plenty of ideas," Hitoshi laughed.
"Izuku," called Shouto from behind him, and Izuku turned to see him and Iida waiting on the other side of the turnstile.
"Right!" Izuku said hurriedly, then with one last wave to Hitoshi followed his classmates onward to the train.
The three of them sat together, as Hosu and Shibuya were both wards in Tokyo and hence were only a few stops apart. Shouto was his usual quiet, stoic self, and Iida seemed much more subdued than usual, so they passed most of the journey in companionable silence. They all made a little polite conversation, mostly about the upcoming week, but Iida was definitely distracted. Most of the ride Izuku spent with his nose buried in his notebook, going over the notes he'd taken on Centerstage as an agency and the heroes that worked there.
The majority of hero agencies in Japan were named after the single hero that ran them. They had a lead hero, possibly a number of secondary heroes that were none the less billed as combatants, and any sidekicks those heroes might employ. Interns were employed by the agency at large, but they had to be mentored by a hero combatant, not a sidekick. There was generally something of an unspoken pecking order to them, with those closest to the lead hero receiving the most resources and press attention.
That kind of hierarchical structure wasn't for everyone though, so there was a not-insignificant minority of agencies that were run differently. They were coalitions of independent heroes, pooling resources so they could all function unobstructed by workplace politics. These agencies generally didn't bear the name of any one hero, but rather chose a name that reflected the image of all the involved heroes. Each hero had their own sidekicks, if any, and while interns were still agency employees, specific heroes selected them and specific heroes mentored them. Most paper agencies, and other agencies that employed underground heroes, were coalition-style.
Black Cloak was one.
Centerstage was another.
"Midoriya," a voice interrupted Izuku's thoughts.
Izuku looked up at Iida, to see that he had stopped staring out the window and was now looking at Izuku. This car of the train was arranged into little sections, with alternate rows of seats turned backwards so up to six passengers could face each other. Iida had taken one window seat, and Izuku had taken the seat across from him, leaving Shouto to sit in the middle seat next to Iida. Shouto was also now looking at Iida, but his expression betrayed nothing of what he was thinking.
"Yeah?" Izuku said, wondering what had prompted Iida to suddenly want to talk.
"You've analyzed a lot of heroes haven't you?" Iida nodded to the notebook in Izuku's hands. "You must have taken notes based on fights you didn't see in person, ones that were broadcast on the news or on the internet, yes?"
"Of course," Izuku closed his notebook to give Iida his full attention. "Most of the heroes I've analyzed don't live anywhere near us, so I had to go off recordings of the fights. I can get pretty good data off that though, especially if different people caught the event from multiple angles."
"I see," Iida said placidly. "And what about villains? Do you ever analyze them, based on the news?"
Iida's expression was very carefully neutral, but Izuku could hear the sharpness of the interest in his voice. He wasn't just making idle conversation.
"I don't . . . usually bother," Izuku admitted carefully. "The heroes deal with them much too fast for it to matter what kind of fighting style they have. There's not much I can learn."
"What about the villains who get away?" Iida pressed.
"They don't usually make the news," Izuku told him. "Iida, what are you-"
"The hero killer's been all over the news," Iida interrupted him, answering his question before he'd had a chance to articulate it. "People have been speculating about him. What do you make of it all?"
Izuku swallowed, then glanced over at Shouto. He was watching Iida with open interest now, and Izuku might have been imagining it, but he thought he could see a flash of worry in the other boy's eyes. That might have just been his own worry though. He took a deep breath and decided to be honest.
"The hero killer has taken at least four victims in every location he's hit," Izuku began. "Most of his victims have minimal defensive wounds, meaning he found some way to immobilize them before killing them, probably with his quirk. All of them were killed with a bladed weapon.
There's not a lot to go on, and I'm hesitant to take a guess-"
"Guess," Iida ordered firmly.
"H-he's probably got a high level of skill with a blade!" Izuku said in a rush. "He spent a long time studying killing techniques, which means he chose his weapon carefully. He picked blades because they're quick and they don't make noise, meaning he can kill his victim without attracting attention to himself. He probably isn't suited for fighting multiple combatants, which is why he isolates his victims before killing them. The ideal team to take him down would be a potential target for him to hone in on and an array of backup heroes with differing skillsets so that at least one has a quirk he's weak to and all of them can gang up on him and overwhelm him with numbers."
"So you don't think a single hero could take him down?" Iida demanded. "Iida," said Shouto suddenly.
Both Iida and Izuku turned to him, to find him looking at Iida with a carefully neutral expression. Izuku wasn't sure what expression he was suppressing, but his face was stiff and set with the effort of keeping it under wraps.
"Maybe you haven't noticed," Shouto went on, "but Izuku has a hard time saying 'no' to people, especially people he looks up to. As a class representative, you should probably be more aware of how your words affect others."
Iida and Izuku both stared at him for a moment. Then Iida turned and adjusted his glasses, looking down at the floor rather than at Izuku.
"I'm sorry, Midoriya," Iida said quietly. "You are such a gifted analyst it's hard not to rely on you, and my curiosity got the better of me."
"Of course!" Izuku nodded hurriedly.
Still, he was grateful that Hosu was only a few stops away.
On the pretext of giving Shouto a hug before he disembarked, which seemed to surprise him somewhat, Izuku whispered in Shouto's ear.
"Take care of him, OK?" Izuku requested quietly.
"Of course," Shouto agreed, and then he and Iida got off the train.
The walk through the trendier section of Tokyo was only slightly harrowing in his UA uniform. He knew he'd never be able to patrol these streets in his gym clothes, which meant he had to hope that Mic had a few ideas about his costume. The Centerstage Agency itself was a huge building with its name emblazoned on the side under two large spotlights, and the front entrance made to look like a theater. Izuku looked up at the marquee, to see it displaying the names of the heroes that worked there. Present Mic's was at the top of one column.
Once he was inside Izuku found the interior was even more intimidating. It was all polished black and white stone, the front desk a block of swirling gray marble, and the back wall behind the desk was an enormous fish tank full of colorful tropical fish. The receptionist was a pretty woman with glittery makeup around her eyes -- or at least Izuku thought it was makeup -- and her hair in a tower of elaborate curls. She gave Izuku a wide, lipstick-heavy smile and a little wave of a hand with very
long, brightly colored nails.
"How're you Sugar?" she asked in a thick Osaka accent, then without waiting for an answer hit a little button on a device on her desk, which Izuku supposed must be connected to the intercom. "Mic? Your little listener's here."
"How'd you know who I was?" Izuku asked when she'd taken her finger off the button.
"Everyone here knows you, Izuku Midoriya," she said cheerfully. "Some of the boys upstairs have photocopied pages of your notebooks framed on their walls!"
"Really?" Izuku blinked, wide-eyed.
"Something you'll find out about the heroes at this agency real fast Sugar," she said knowingly. "Everybody around here likes attention."
"No kidding!" came a loud voice, and through one of the doors to either side of the fish tank burst Present Mic. "I had to make sure to bring him here when almost everyone else was out, or we'd never get any work done!"
"Sensei!" Izuku straightened, relief washing over him to see his teacher. It seemed he'd been right to assume Mic wanted to mentor him personally.
"Thanks Yamamoto-chan," Mic winked at the receptionist. "I'll take it from here."
Yamamoto giggled, and Mic blew her a kiss. Then he beckoned Izuku through the door and into the hallway beyond. Just before he went through the door Yamamoto gave him a little wave, and then he was inside a real hero agency for the very first time.
"Welcome to the Centerstage Agency!" Mic crowed as he led the way down a hall, decorated in rich tones of red, to an elevator and ushered Izuku inside. "Most of the heroes here are out on press tours or hero business just now, so for the moment it's just us! My office is on the third floor, but first we're headed all the way up top!"
"What's on the top floor?" Izuku asked as Mic pressed the button. "The closet," Mic said meaningfully.
"Oh yeah," Izuku looked down at his nearly empty briefcase again. "I was hoping you'd have
some ideas about my costume. I have a weapon to start training with, but as for the look I wanna go for, I'm still kinda lost."
"That's why you consult with someone who's already topping the charts with their image!" Mic assured him boisterously. "I've got some rad ideas that're sure to make you paparazzi bait!"
Izuku laughed a little, feeling much better to be back around Mic and his antics. He'd been a bit worried that the sports festival might not have gone to his teacher's satisfaction, but now that they were alone together Mic didn't seem cold with him. If anything Mic's enthusiasm was infectious, and Izuku found himself eagerly anticipating the closet as they rode the elevator to the top floor.
He expected the elevator to open onto another hallway, but it seemed there wasn't space for that. As soon as the door slid open Izuku was looking out onto a vast room containing nothing but racks upon racks of clothes. Everything from trendy suits and dresses to casual clothes for any area Izuku could think of, outfits to suit any person or any walk of life. With the clothes in this room alone Izuku was sure he could outfit the entire cast of a movie about people all over Japan. Maybe even
people all over the world.
"Wow," Izuku breathed. "Do the heroes who work here really need all of this?"
"Never know where you're going to need to blend in," Mic pointed out.
"So you can be discrete when you need to!" Izuku said excitedly. "I was right to think I could do undercover work and be a spotlight hero!"
"If you're going to be a hero, you can't have just one trick," Mic told him with a wink. "Drop your stuff by the door and follow me."
Izuku obeyed and trailed after Mic into the jungle of clothes. It seemed like they walked a long time, but eventually they came up against a wall that was lined with tables and mirrors, like a vanity for many people. Across the various tables were arranged a vast array of bottles and jars, which made Izuku slightly wary. Mic steered Izuku into a chair, then flicked a little switch so that their station lit up with a dozen or so small lights at the edges of the mirror.
"First we've got to do something with that hair," Mic said, running one hand through Izuku's curls. "Nothing too extreme?" Izuku requested, with a glance up at Mic's stiffly gelled hair.
"Don't worry," Mic said soothingly, stripping off his fingerless gloves. "At your age, natural is better."
He selected a little pink bottle with a pump, and lathered both hands in some kind of oil. He then proceeded to work this through Izuku's hair, scritching the scalp as he worked it into the roots and tugging slightly as he ensured the tips were well coated. Then he tousled Izuku's hair carelessly, as though in an affectionate gesture, and pulled his hands away so Izuku could see.
Izuku had to admit, he looked good. He still looked like himself, but a better version of himself. His hair seemed less wild and unruly and more artfully disheveled, and overall it made him seem more put-together, like his appearance was more deliberate. When he felt it curiously he found that it was soft and smooth. It didn't even feel oily.
"How'd you do that?" he asked, frowning at his reflection.
"Hair isn't as hard as you think," Mic laughed. "I'll get you a bottle of that stuff, you can do this at home."
"OK," Izuku agreed, still staring at her hair. "Uh, what next?"
"Next is this," Mic said, and left Izuku in the vanity chair to go sort through the nearest rack of clothes.
Izuku turned in his chair to watch Mic pull various pieces left and right, muttering to himself as he looked for what he wanted. Vaguely Izuku wondered if this was what he himself looked like when he was lost in thought. At last Mic made a pleased noise, and pulled out a hanger with a black jacket on it.
"Here," he said, holding the jacket up by the shoulders so Izuku could step into it, "try this on."
Izuku took off his school jacket and placed it on the back of his chair, then went and shrugged into the jacket Mic was offering him. It was tough, stiff black leather, but the lining was some silky material that felt good on his skin. Unlike Mic's leather jacket it didn't have any pads or studs, and
when he looked at it in the mirror the lines of it were much softer. It still looked cool, but a different kind of cool.
"It's nice," Izuku said appreciatively. "Did you just have this?"
"I may have put in a request with some of our in-house support staff," Mic said flippantly, but he
couldn't suppress a small smile. "Watch this."
Out of the back of the neckline Mic fished a cloth hood, the same green as Izuku's hair. This he pulled over Izuku's head, then tugged it down just a little so it hid his face. Izuku gaped at his reflection in the mirror. He had gone from eye-catching and cool, to completely nondescript. The addition of the hood made the jacket's softer lines seem more casual and less obvious, and at a distance Izuku thought it might even have been hard to identify as leather. Hunched over he could have been any age, and in the dark he could be anyone, or even no one.
He pulled the hood back, to find himself once again a teenager with very nice hair and a very cool jacket.
"Keep the hood tucked into the back," Mic advised, doing this for him, "and it looks very fashionable. Pull the hood up when you need to disappear."
"How'd you know it would look like that?" Izuku asked, still staring mesmerized at his own reflection.
"The same way I know that no one will recognize me when I wash the gel out of my hair and swap out my sunglasses," Mic informed him. "It's part of why branding can be important for a hero, especially one in the spotlight. A prominent gimmick can be taken on and off, like that hood. It creates a degree of separation between you and your herosona, and if you use it right that can have a devastating effect."
"That's so cool," Izuku breathed, then noticed exactly how much fabric was wadded up against the back of his neck. "It's gonna get hot though."
"Too bad," Mic said seriously. "It's got a layer of lightweight body armor between the exterior and the lining, so jacket stays on, and while we're on patrol-" he zipped the jacket up all the way under Izuku's chin, "-jacket stays zipped."
"Yes sir," Izuku said immediately.
Mic grabbed a few more pieces of clothing and steered Izuku to a changing room, then draped the additional things over the top of the door. These were a pair of thick, sturdy black jeans and a thin, breathable black tank top, as well as a pair of fingerless leather gloves with metal studs on the knuckles. Izuku put on the jeans and then held up the shirt to examine it.
"Sorry about the shirt," Mic said through the door, with a nearly audible pout. "I couldn't think of what to put on it just yet. We can change it later."
Izuku grinned at the black material emblazoned with thick white kanji reading 'Cool Logo.' "It's perfect," he said happily, and put it on.
Once he was dressed he looked at himself in the mirror, taking in the full effect of the costume. The clothes were definitely cool, even his hair was somewhat cool, but even so he still felt a little bit like a kid on Halloween. The hero in the mirror seemed to be someone he was dressed as, rather than someone he was. Still, he liked the image, and he was smiling when he came out to show Mic
the ensemble.
"Rockin'!" Mic crowed, fingers flexing as they skimmed over Izuku just a few centimeters from touching. "You really look the part! Just needs a finishing touch or two!"
Grinning, Mic reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a pair of sunglasses. They were round, with a shiny mirrored finish and silver frames matched to the lenses. Mic unfolded them carefully and settled them onto Izuku's face, leaving them eye to eye for a moment as he placed them just so on Izuku's nose.
"They're not tinted," Izuku noted curiously as Mic pulled away.
"Nope," Mic said, touching his own shades demonstratively. "I went with a color, but yours are just mirrored. They look like they're sunglasses, but you can see just as well at night."
"Yeah," Izuku said, noticing for the first time that Mic's glasses weren't really dark in shade, just barely orange without blocking any light. "Does the color tint on yours do anything?"
"It enhances contrast and helps me see mildly better in low light," Mic said with a shrug, "but you probably don't have to worry about that yet."
"You've put so much thought into every aspect of your costume," Izuku realized. "Everything about your appearance seems to serve your gimmick, but really it's all for a purpose. There's nothing you do that isn't deliberate. People don't notice that."
"You noticed," Mic said, smiling gently down at Izuku. "And there are others. There will always be people who look a little closer. They're the ones worth keeping around."
Izuku smiled shakily, feeling the lump forming in his throat. He really didn't want to cry right now, over such an offhanded compliment, but his eyes were starting to prickle. He sniffled, blinking rapidly, trying to get himself back under control.
"Hey hey hey!" Mic exclaimed, frowning in concern. "What's with the waterworks?"
"Sorry," Izuku mumbled, squeezing his eyes shut against the tears. He wouldn't cry. He wouldn't! "Here," Mic said, then took Izuku's hand and tugged him back the way they'd come.
They ended up back at the bank of vanities, and Mic turned the lights of a second station on and sat in the chair, bending to look under the table. There were a few drawers there, starting shallow and increasing in depth as they went down, and Mic opened the topmost drawer to reveal a cluttered collection of make-up products. He fished around a moment and came back up with a small black eyeliner pencil.
"C'mere," Mic beckoned, and when Izuku went over to him he took Izuku's face in one hand and with the other drew something on his cheek, just below his left eye. "Here, look."
Mic turned Izuku to look in the mirror, and Izuku saw that he had drawn the outline of a small heart on Izuku's cheek, right in the path of where a tear would fall as it rolled out of his eye.
"Don't cry," Mic said seriously, "it'll smudge the eyeliner. Just imagine that heart is the hearts of everyone who's rooting for you. Don't wanna mess it up, do you?"
"No," Izuku said, and sniffled purposefully. The prickling in his eyes died down to something manageable, and he turned his attention back to the mirror.
Reflected back at Izuku was a version of himself he'd never seen before. His hair was soft and shiny. His clothes were dark and trendy, a far cry from his normal washed out t-shirts. The mirrored sunglasses hid the uncertain expression in his eyes, making him look mysterious and unreadable. The little heart on his cheek was an accent to it all, and though it seemed somewhat childish, he found that it actually suited him, in an odd way.
"I look cool," he realized.
"You do!" Mic cooed. "I love the whole effect, it's very teen idol."
"What about when I get older?" Izuku laughed.
"Then it'll be very American movie star," Mic said, and stood up. "Next order of business."
"What's that?" Izuku asked, straightening.
"We gotta get you used to moving around in those clothes," Mic told him, beckoning him back towards the elevator. "Grab your stuff, let's do some combat training."
Izuku brought his force lance down through the air as hard as he could possibly manage. He had started the training session holding back, but he certainly wasn't doing that anymore. Mic was directly in front of him, he was absolutely sure to land a hit this time . . . and then suddenly Mic was nowhere, and the tip of Izuku's weapon came down on empty floor.
"That was a close one!" Mic narrated, dancing away to Izuku's right. "My turn!"
He swung his fist at Izuku's face, forcing him to rapidly change direction to avoid getting punched. Izuku barely dodged the swing, and then could only manage a wild swipe with his force lance which Mic easily evaded.
"Getting frustrated there?" Mic laughed, then made a little beckoning gesture with one hand.
Izuku made a little noise of exertion as he launched himself after Mic. He swung his force lance wide, not wanting to risk a fancier, quicker spinning attack, which he hadn't mastered the finger motions for yet. He'd dropped it once, and he wasn't going to do that again.
"C'mon, you can do better than that!" Mic invited, bending forwards to get under the swing and then popping back up to flick Izuku in the nose. A teasing strike rather than a real one. "It's not a baseball bat!"
"You wanna see what I can do!" Izuku shouted, surprised by how worked up he was getting. Without letting himself think about it he adjusted his grip, preparing for a different move. "I'll show you!"
Izuku had seen Yaoyorozu do this a few times in training, and he'd been so interested the first time that he'd watched her fingers movements closely when he realized she was doing it again. He swung the force lance, almost the same as he'd done before, but before it could complete the swing he twisted his fingers and twirled it upward, causing one end of it to smack Mic soundly in the face.
"Nice move!" Mic laughed as he lurched back, not seeming at all worse for wear even though there was a faint red mark on his face where he'd been hit. "But you're a bit late."
"What?" Izuku said, pausing in confusion.
"Why does no one ever look up anymore?" Mic gave an exaggerated sigh.
Izuku turned his eyes to the ceiling, wondering what kind of trap was about to fall on him. All he could see where white ceiling tiles though, and before he could look back at Mic he felt something hit him in the ankles hard enough to sweep him off his feet. Izuku hit the polished wood floor hard, a jolt going through his tailbone and his force lance clattering away.
"Seven-zero," Mic sighed, but grinned down at Izuku none the less. "You're getting better. That last move was pure music!"
"I copied it from Yayorozu," Izuku protested, wincing a little but taking Mic's hand and letting himself be pulled back to his feet.
Izuku pushed his mirrored glasses up onto his head, as they were beginning to steam up, and took stock of himself. He had been right, and the jacket was definitely getting hot, but he knew part of the point was learning to deal with that. He had unzipped it some time ago, but Mic had looked somewhat disapproving, and so he made no move to remove it any further. He was breathing hard, sweating enough that he was sure the heart on his cheek was running even without tears, and his whole body ached from a combination of exertion and the handful of hits he'd taken to end each bout.
Mic, on the other hand, looked perfectly unaffected. The red mark on his cheek was already gone, and the blow didn't seem to have damaged his glasses either. His jacket was on and zipped, and didn't seem to be hampering his movements at all. He didn't even look like he was sweating.
"You pick up moves from other people quickly and easily," Mic noted as Izuku went to retrieve his force lance. "You should do more training with Yaoyorozu, she could probably show you a few more tricks than that. I'd say I should grab a staff, but it's not my forte, and if you only fight people with the same weapon you've got you'll pick up some weird habits."
"It still doesn't seem fair that you're not using your quirk and you don't have a weapon," Izuku pointed out.
Mic raised an eyebrow. "Am I losing?"
"No," Izuku admitted. He lifted a hand to his face and tugged at his lip, thinking. "You're keeping really tight control of the situation in every fight, no matter what I do I always feel like I'm scrambling to keep up with you."
"And how am I doing that?" Mic prompted. "What can you copy off me?"
Izuku thought for a moment. "You're talking the whole time we're fighting," he said carefully. "It's like you're announcing a match, but you're giving commentary on my moves. It makes me feel like you can see everything I do coming, and it let you get the drop on me when I paid more attention to what you said than what you were doing and looked up when you told me to."
"Good!" Mic said, grinning. "The ability to keep your head enough to talk while fighting is a valuable skill for anyone to know, and starting off by narrating the fight as I go gives me options going forward. If my opponent starts talking back to me, I may be able to get information out of them. If they can't keep up a conversation without dividing their focus, I have the edge. Even if they're totally stoic, if I make them think I'm just calling what I see, I may be able to direct their attention where I want it at a key moment."
"And it keeps perfectly in line with your gimmick!" Izuku concluded excitedly. "So even if the villain might otherwise have suspected you had a reason for continuously talking, it just looks like you're playing a part!"
"That commentary stuff isn't just flash for the cameras!" Mic said with a wink. "Now, you wanna give it a try?"
"Me?" Izuku squeaked, then cleared his throat. "What kind of stuff should I say?"
"Given that your persona is more of an idol than an announcer," Mic began thoughtfully, "it might be better if you start out trying to connect with the person you're fighting. You're a naturally empathetic person, so showing concern comes easily to you. Try opening by asking your opponent why they're doing what they're doing. You may even get an answer!"
Izuku took a deep breath and lowered his glasses back into place, then gripped his force lance in both hands.
"OK," he said, shifting into a fighting stance. "I'm ready!" *
As it happened the heart didn't run with his sweat, and didn't come off until he'd scrubbed it with Mic's special make-up remover. Privately he wondered if tears could even damage it, but he supposed he didn't exactly know much about make-up.
They had trained the whole day, and Izuku was actually starting to feel OK with his rudimentary skills with his force lance, but by the time Mic consented to call it quits Izuku was deeply exhausted. There were no other interns at the agency at present, so he had his pick of beds in the bunks where they were supposed to sleep. After dinner he showered, changed into pajamas and crawled into the bed farthest from the door. He was just scrolling through hero news on his phone, wondering if he should really research the thing he was contemplating researching, when the door opened and Mic poked his head in.
"You alright 'lil listener?" Mic asked. He had also changed out of his costume and was now in bright pink sweatpants and a loose fitting shirt, with his hair down and surprisingly long as it fell around his shoulders.
"Yeah!" Izuku nodded, sitting up a little straighter against his pillows. "I'm great! Today was amazing, I'm so glad I get to intern here!"
Mic smiled, then nodded and made to close the door.
"Wait!" Izuku said impulsively, and Mic paused, opening the door back up a little. Izuku squirmed, wondering how to put what was on his mind. "About . . . the sports festival . . ."
"What about it?" Mic asked, pushing his way inside and leaning against the doorframe with deliberate casualness.
"Hitoshi said you and Aizawa-sensei . . ." he paused, still struggling for words.
"Knew you were conspiring to fix the festival in Shinsou's favor?" Mic offered, making Izuku start in surprise. "Some of the teachers had a bet going on who you could get in on it. Todoroki was on no one's list."
Izuku gave a shaky sigh, but he wasn't entirely relieved. "So, you're not mad?"
"Are you kidding?" Mic chuckled. "Eraser was thrilled. He's had his eye on Shinsou for a while." "Not just about that," Izuku protested softly.
Mic tilted his head to the side. "Oh?" he asked. "What else is there?"
Izuku looked down at his blanket. "I didn't win."
"I didn't tell you to win," Mic reminded him. "I told you to get something out of it." Izuku looked up, and Mic raised one perfect golden eyebrow.
"Did you?"
"Well," Izuku began nervously, looking off to one side. "I got rid of Mineta, so all the girls in class like me. I got Hitoshi into the hero course, where he deserves to be and can prove his bullies wrong. I helped Shouto heal a little bit, and he's friends with me and Hitoshi now. And I made sure someone too violent to be a hero wouldn't get back into the hero course by making sure everyone knew just how bad he was."
Izuku looked back at Mic, head ducked down in a nervous gesture of supplication. "Is that enough?"
Mic threw back his head and laughed. "More than enough 'lil listener!" he said boisterously. "What's more, you've made your mark on your classmates, the ones who will be your comrades in the field! Now everyone knows!"
"Knows I'm smart?" Izuku asked, surprised. "Everyone already knew that-"
"No," Mic corrected, quieting a little to give Izuku a genuine look of pride. "That you've got their backs. You saw your classmates were suffering and you had to help them. You saw injustices and you had to correct them, even when they weren't your business. That's what being a hero is all about."
"Thank you," Izuku said unguardedly.
Mic nodded, then returned to the hallway and made to close the door. "Goodnight, 'lil listener." "Goodnight," Izuku said, and Mic shut the door.
He stared at the ceiling for a few long moments, digesting the conversation. He'd never had an adult show so much faith in him. It made him want to prove worthy of that faith, made him want to be the type of person Mic was so sure he could be.
Izuku opened up the news app on his phone, and did a search for the hero killer.