After final exams, there was a single day of classes before the students were off for summer break. The training camp, to which everyone was going, would be in a week's time, but until then they were free to stay at the dorms or return home if they wanted. Shouto was the only one who had opted to stay at school, but the class had planned a few fun outings for the week, so he wouldn't be stuck inside. The rest of them went home to enjoy a little time with their families before training started back up.

"Are you sure you'll be OK on your own?" Izuku asked as he'd shouldered his bag to leave.

"I'll be fine," Shouto promised, with his small, peaceful smile he seemed to reserve for Izuku and Hitoshi. "I'm going to visit my mom tomorrow, and I'll see you again soon."

"Call if you need us," Hitoshi instructed, and Shouto nodded.

All Might drove Izuku home after school on the final day of class. He had been going to see Izuku's mother periodically over the second half of the semester, and he chattered about what had been going on with her as they drove. Izuku had been under the impression he'd just been going to tell her about Izuku's progress, but he talked so animated and so much about how she'd been doing that it seemed they'd strayed onto a few other topics.

It was a given this time that All Might would come in and have tea, and Izuku put his bag in his room while the adults talked. He came back to find them already deep in conversation, so much so that he found himself sitting at the table quietly, unable to contribute. Even when the topic turned to heroes Izuku's mother mentioned his opinion without letting him give it voice before diving right back into the discussion. It was, at least, a relief to know her thoughts on certain less-than- inspiring heroes were genuine, and not just held to humor him.

"Endeavor just doesn't seem to have much of a care for his supporters," she said critically, before taking a sip of her tea.

"He's a fine hero who's saved many lives," All Might protested, too busy paying attention to Izuku's mother to make much of a showing of support for Endeavor.

"Being good at his job is all well and good," she said flippantly, "but does he mind his manners? What good is he as a role model if he behaves like a child?"

"He's civil enough to get along with," All Might hedged, but Izuku could tell his heart wasn't in it. "Do you know him?" she asked with a raised eyebrow.

"Not well," All Might had to lie to cover his identity. He'd kept it a secret so long, Izuku figured it

would be weird to tell her now. "Not enough to pass judgement anyway." "I think he's a jerk," Izuku piped up, but was predictably ignored.

"I don't care for how he talks about his rivals either," his mother said, again sipping her tea daintily. "He's much too critical of All Might, of all people."

All Might cleared his throat, but didn't cough up blood.

After what felt like an unusually long time All Might declared that he couldn't impose himself upon them any more, and left after only three more of the long, lingering looks Izuku was starting to accept were just how the two adults interacted. His mother returned to the kitchen table and sighed dreamily for a few moments, and Izuku watched her carefully while she didn't think he was looking. She seemed happy, but in a way that she wasn't happy very often. It was a quiet sort of happiness, small and secret, when usually she would be trying to match the energy of Izuku's happy excitement. Izuku decided he was happy for her, even if the source seemed to be All Might, which was almost too weird to think about.

"Now," said his mother, snapping him out of his contemplation of her mood, "I want to hear everything from you! Tell me all about how your training has been going!"

Izuku was more than happy to tell her. He talked about the rescue exercises they'd been doing, and the team and individual combat drills they're been running. He explained how he was improving his skills with his force lance and the boots Hatsume had made him, and how they were trading ideas for even more gadgets for her to make in the future. He was sure to bring up how All Might and Aizawa were keeping a close eye on his risk-assessment skills, and how he was training himself to believe in his own value like Present Mic had taught him. He mentioned all his classmates, and how great their quirks were, and how much they were all improving.

He didn't realize how much he'd been talking about his classmates, in particular the extra training they did outside class, until his mother stopped him mid-ramble.

"Have you noticed how much you mention Hitoshi and Shouto?" she wondered aloud.

Izuku paused in the middle of describing one of Shouto's fire control exercises. "I mean, I do most of my training outside class with them."

"Seems an interesting choice, is all," she said innocently. "Surely it would make more sense to train with that Yaoyorozu girl more. You both have the same weapon speciality and similar combat styles, right?"

"I use my force lance to augment my mobility more than she does," Izuku corrected, "but she has shown me a lot of staff tricks. I do train with her some, but she mostly likes to train with some of the other girls in class, like Jirou and Hagakure."

"So why do you like to train with Hitoshi and Shouto?" she asked, tilting her head to the side.

"Well, they're my friends," Izuku shrugged, feeling himself involuntarily hunch over to make himself small. "Hitoshi was the first person I was able to really help with my analysis, and I figured out he and Shouto could be a big help to each other in training. I thought they would just be training partners, but . . . they really seem to want me around."

"I'm glad you have good friends now," his mother said, and her smile reached her eyes. "It's been so long since you've liked spending time with other kids."

"Sometimes it's hard to believe they want to train with me," Izuku admitted, looking down. "We study together a lot, and we just, you know, hang out some too."

"It sounds like they really like spending time with you," she said pointedly. "Not just training."

Izuku looked up at her, shaking his head. "It's more than that. They always listen to me, even when I ramble, and they always have my back. They don't just like me, they . . . they respect me. They look at me like I'm someone important."

"Is that so strange?" she laughed a little. "You're obviously important to them."

"They're both so impressive though," Izuku said in a small voice, eyes falling to his lap again. "Shouto's quirk is basically two quirks, he's so incredibly powerful, but he's one of the gentlest people in our class. He's so reluctant to reach out to people because he's afraid of intimidating them, because he doesn't want his power to be scary, that he ends up being hard to approach. But, once you get to know him, you can see that all he really wants is to make people feel safe and comfortable around him. And Hitoshi's so guarded, he doesn't expect kindness from anyone, but that just means when people are nice to him he's so grateful he can barely contain it. His quirk is really suited for offense, but he always wants to find ways to use it to protect and save people, not just fight villains. He understands how it feels to be vulnerable, and he treats everyone with so much care."

"You care about them a lot," his mother noted, voice soft and gentle.

"They've both been through so much," Izuku said, feeling a familiar prickling behind his eyes, "and they want to be heroes so badly, sometimes it's hard for me to feel like I can say anything to them."

"Have you considered that the same could be said of you?" she asked quietly.

Izuku looked up at her, wide-eyed, to see her smiling knowingly. Immediately he looked away, feeling his cheeks grow a little warm. He knew his childhood had been difficult, he'd lived it after all, but surely it hadn't been as bad as theirs. Shouto with his father, and Hitoshi being called a villain. They had been pigeonholed because of their quirks, made into things they never wanted to be in the eyes of everyone around them. Somehow being dismissed for not having a quirk didn't feel like it was nearly as bad.

"It's not the same," he protested weakly.

"It seems like they think it's the same," she pressed. "Honey, life isn't easy for people who are different, no matter what the reason is. If the three of your have found each other, and you're able to connect and lean on each other, that's something special."

Izuku considered that for a moment, feeling his heart grow a bit lighter. There was some truth to that, at least. He was helping, or he thought he was helping, and both of them seemed to think so too. Hitoshi and Shouto had come out of their shells a bit around him. Things were better when they were together.

For some reason his cheeks stayed warm.

"I guess," he admitted, with a small smile of his own.

His mother's smile widened considerably. "Special enough to maybe be a little more than friends?" "What!?" Izuku yelped, feeling like someone had punched him in the chest.

"I'm just saying!" his mother laughed. "You talk more about them than you do any of the girls in your class! You clearly admire them a lot-"

"For how strong and capable they are!" Izuku insisted loudly.

"-so maybe you admire them a little more than your other classmates?" she finished.

Izuku looked away. His face felt very hot. "Maybe a little . . . but it's not like that! We're just friends!"

"Oh, 'just friends,' I see," his mother made air quotes with two fingers on each hand.

"Yes!" Izuku said firmly. "And don't make it sound so suggestive! I could just as easily say you and Yagi-sensei are 'just friends,' how would you like that?"

The smile immediately vanished from his mother's face, and Izuku felt a pang of guilt spike through his chest like hot lead. So it was too soon for that.

"Don't even joke about that Izuku," she said seriously. "I'm married to your father. You know that."

Do I? Izuku wondered. Then why hasn't dad been home in years? So many that I don't even remember his last visit? Why don't we have any pictures of him on the walls? Why doesn't he ever call, even after I learned English just to talk to him? Why do we never seem to have more money than you make yourself? If I have a father, why do I not know him?

Instead he said, "I'm sorry mom."

"It's OK," she said, smile back in place. "So, tell me more about how striking Shouto's scar is." "Mom!"

Hitoshi was grateful his mom had been supportive when he'd been able to join the hero course.

One of the teachers had to come to the house and explain the circumstances, and the school had sent Aizawa. She had withstood his explanation with her usual unreadable expression, not giving away a single clue as to her feelings. Hitoshi suspected she just wanted to watch Aizawa sweat, and was a little disappointed when he proved too stoic to squirm for her amusement. There had been nearly a whole minute after he'd finished when they'd both just stared at each other. Hitoshi had actually wondered if they'd reached some kind of impasse and neither of them was going to crack first.

Then his mother had said, "Alright, I'll allow it."

Aizawa had thanked her formally and left, leaving Hitoshi to breathe a sigh of relief once the door was shut behind him.

"I like him," his mother had announced, a small smile creeping onto her face.

"He's my homeroom teacher," Hitoshi informed her. "You didn't have to go so hard on him."

"I'm trusting him with something precious to me," she reminded him, with an air of great condescension. "I need to know that he appreciates the responsibility, and that he can handle pressure."

"He handled the attack on the USJ pretty well," Hitoshi reminded her. "Also he's promised to give me a few extra lessons to catch me up with the rest of the class."

"Good," she said, smiling a little more fully. "It's nice to know there will be someone keeping an eye on you."

Aizawa had come by again when the dorms had been implemented. His mother hadn't objected, but he'd come anyway just to make sure she didn't have any questions. He explained the reasoning behind the decision, the benefits of students living on campus, and how the drawbacks were being addressed.

"And what about the fact that I won't see my son for weeks or potentially months at a time?" she'd asked, her tone serious but stopping carefully short of anger.

"You seem the type to care more about Hitoshi's future than holding onto him," Aizawa replied, just barely shy of a challenge.

"And you believe his future is best served by leaving home at his tender age?" she wondered pointedly.

"I believe UA can help him become the best hero he can be," Aizawa said, bold words with a placid tone. "That is a promise."

She sighed. "Very well."

Again once Aizawa had left Hitoshi had found himself deflating as his mother's facade fell away. They stood in the hall after the door had closed for several moments while they waited to be sure Aizawa was gone, and when he'd looked up at her she'd been smiling.

"He's a good teacher for you, sweetie," she said once she was confident they weren't being observed. "I trust him, even if I don't like you living so far away."

"He's going to be living on campus too," Hitoshi offered. "I'll be able to get ahold of him any time I need him, if that makes you feel better."

"Good," she said, in a conclusive sort of way. "That does make me feel better."

She was a little put out about the summer training camp, as it meant he would be away most of the summer too, but she'd agreed to that without having another crack at Aizawa. The week between the end of the school term and the start of summer training did a lot for her, even if he'd already told her he'd be going out with friends a few times, and she was waiting at the door when he arrived home after school on the final day of classes to catch him up in a tight hug. Thankfully she had ordered takeout, so they sat down to eat as soon as he'd put his things away.

"Tell me all about school," she instructed as she laid everything out on their small dining room table.

Hitoshi's mother would have made a pretty poor audience for someone like Izuku, who thrived on feedback to let him know that he wasn't boring someone. Hitoshi, however, was used to her stoicism, and could read the interest in her otherwise blank expression. Her eyebrows raised a fraction of a centimeter when he described his victories in combat training, the corners of her mouth quirked upward when he mentioned his humiliating defeats fighting Aizawa, and her eyes sparkled with carefully subdued delight when he recounted how he and Izuku had beaten All Might.

"It seems this Izuku boy is quite the strategist," she surmised once he'd finished telling her about his final exam.

"He's the best," Hitoshi confirmed before taking a slurp of noodles. "You should have seen Shouto after we got back though, he was so worried he just grabbed us and hugged us. I think he almost cried."

"How sweet," his mother said carefully. Hitoshi might have been imagining it, but he thought her smile turned sly. "I wonder if he's telling his mother all about you."

Hitoshi hadn't been imagining it.

After he'd thought about it a while, it made sense to Hitoshi that his quirk was more sleepwalking than brainwashing. His father, who had left the moment he realized his girlfriend was pregnant, had been blessed with a particularly convenient quirk that let him function on a single night's sleep for a week. Not the most straightforward of evolutions, but it made a kind of sense. Hitoshi's mother, however, had a quirk with a much more obvious influence on his own. Reactionary Empathy, which allowed her to feel what others were feeling in response to things she said. Even when faced with a world class poker face, she could always tell the effect she had on people.

Hitoshi took another bite of noodles and pretended to think about it. He had long ago mastered the art of focusing on a physical sensation to force down an emotional reaction, so he concentrated on the taste of the sauce to avoid giving fuel to his apprehension. He couldn't let her smell blood this early in the conversation.

"Not today," he hedged once he'd swallowed. "He's staying at the dorms over break."

"Oh," she said, as though he'd said something very surprising, "so you do think he's going to tell his mother about you?"

Damn it!

Hitoshi set down his noodles and took a sip of his drink, feeling the iced liquid contrast with the heat of his mouth and throat. He was out of practice, and he was sure his mother had felt his disappointment that he hadn't dissuaded her. Considering his response carefully, he pretended to look critically at the amount of ice he had left.

"I guess it's possible," he admitted, feigning nonchalance. "I'm telling you about him, after all." "And Izuku," she pressed immediately. "You've been telling me a lot about both of them."

"Have I?" Hitoshi wondered, trying not to mentally go over what he'd been babbling about for the last hour so he didn't have a sudden realization that it was true.

"They seem like they're very special to you," his mother raised an eyebrow deliberately. She was still holding her chopsticks, but she had stopped eating.

"They're my friends," he said, firmly shutting down that line of thinking for both of them. "Special friends," she said, smiling an infuriatingly knowing smile.

Hitoshi hummed nocommitaly and took another slurp of noodles. The sauce was rich and sweet and very easy to focus on.

"You're being evasive," his mother noted with obvious interest.

"You're being pushy," Hitoshi countered, letting the first words that sprang to mind come out his mouth without thinking about them.

"I just want to know if you have strong feelings feelings for them," she protested lightly. "Strong feelings of friendship," was all Hitoshi would admit to.

"But strong feelings," she pressed.

"I hadn't thought about it," Hitoshi said, which was a baldfaced lie.

His mother made a noise that conveyed serious doubt, but took a bite and said nothing. They ate in silence for another few moments, Hitoshi deliberately not mulling the conversation over in his mind. His mother's quirk was still in effect even long after she'd spoken. She would feel it even if started reacting emotionally hours from now, as long as he was within range.

"I suppose that might be for the best," she said, all innocence, a few minutes into their uncomfortable silence.

Hitoshi honestly didn't know how to feel about that response. "What do you mean?"

"Just that the two of them seem to be close to each other too," she said with a shrug. "Maybe the two of them have strong feelings for each other."

The bottom dropped out of Hitoshi's stomach. A lead weight settled in his chest, and he couldn't even begin to try to control it. His skin prickled with cold sweat, and his face felt hot. His whole body felt like it was being dragged through the floor. The food was ash in his mouth, tasteless and without temperature. He swallowed, and it went down like a lump in his throat.

"Oh Hitoshi!" his mother said, and through his panic -- was he panicking? -- he could see her look of startled regret. "I was only teasing!"

"It's OK," he said, shaking his head, his instincts telling him to comfort her. "It's not, I know-"

"I didn't mean it like that!" she cut him off, reaching out across the table with one hand to take him by the shoulder. "I'm sure that's not the case, I was just poking you that's all!"

"It's OK!" he tried again, but his vision was blurry now, and he realized in frustration that those were tears.

"It's not," his mother corrected, squeezing. "Hitoshi, sweetie, I'm so sorry. I didn't realize . . . I didn't know they meant that much to you."

"They're just friends," Hitoshi insisted, a little louder than he'd meant to. "Izuku thinks too little of himself to let himself like someone, and Shouto's got issues with this sort of thing because of his parents, and I don't even know if either of them like boys, and-"

"Hitoshi," his mother interrupted, "I'm sure if they both mean that much to you then you mean just as much to them!"

Hitoshi blinked, feeling the tears spill out. Hurriedly he wiped them away on his sleeve. He was so stupid-

"You're not stupid," his mother said immediately.

"This is stupid," he said, shaking his head. "It doesn't matter-"

"If it matters to you it matters," she told him firmly.

Hitoshi sniffled. He felt childish, crying over a stupid crush, and when nothing had even happened between them. He felt like it had though. Just the idea that Shouto and Izuku might want to be just the two of them, might not want him with them . . . even thinking about it hurt.

"The three of you seem very close," his mother said quietly. "Have they ever left you out of anything?"

"No," Hitoshi admitted, just as quietly.

"Then don't worry," she said, giving his shoulder another squeeze. "It's hard to hide it when you want to be alone with someone. You don't let anything get in the way. Have they ever hesitated to try to be alone with you?"

"I guess not," he said, feeling the tightness in his throat ease a little. "We tend to go off on our own at least a little every day."

"Then they want you there," she said.

She withdrew her hand, and Hitoshi looked up to find her smiling sadly at him. She didn't often show much emotion, but when she did it tended to be bittersweet. Satisfaction tinged with pettiness. Joy that was just a touch smug. Fondness mixed inextricably with pain.

"It's hard to go through life without a partner," she told him softly. "Things are just easier when there's someone there with you. If you have someone, especially more than one someone, who wants to share their life with you? Who wants you there every day? Who relies on you, and wants you to rely on them in turn? That's important Hitoshi. That's . . . that's so important."

Her eyes were wet and glassy by the time she was finished speaking, and Hitoshi felt strangely better. He felt lighter, less like he was sinking and more like he was tethered in place. Hs mother tended to do that, when she'd really hit a nerve. She could always tell when she'd really hurt someone, and she wasn't the type of person who could leave that alone. If she hurt someone she had to make it right.

"I know, mom," he said, and sniffled again. "I know." *

The first time Shouto had been to visit his mother in the hospital he'd been overcome with nerves. He'd almost turned back a dozen times, convinced he wouldn't be welcome and would just be imposing himself on her. He wondered if she would even want to see him, or if she would allow it even though it caused her pain, or if she would take one look at him and be overcome with fear and lash out again. He didn't know what he would do if she tried to hurt him, even after all this time. He was afraid of what his father might do to her in retaliation.

As it happened, none of his fears came to pass. She agreed to visit with him, and seemed happy to see him when he came into her room. She wasn't joyful, like she'd been waiting for him, or relieved, like she thought he'd come to take her home. He was a pleasant surprise, something unlooked-for that made her smile and welcome him in.

She'd cried a little, when he'd told her about his life with his father, how the sadistic training continued and he was still barely allowed to speak to his siblings. She'd apologized for the day she'd given him his scar, and for all the days after when she hadn't bee there with him. She'd forgiven him when he told her his mindset when he'd entered UA, how he had pushed all his

classmates aside, and it had taken a great sacrifice by someone else to pull him out of his own misery. Even when he told her how he had become like Endeavor, how despite his efforts to be different he had ended up taking some of his father's poison words to heart, she still wanted him to move forward.

"You can't dwell on that Shouto," she'd told him, tears still lingering in the corners of her eyes. "You have to forgive yourself."

"I don't know how," he confessed. He'd never given much thought to forgiveness. "How were you able to come this far?" she asked.

Shouto looked down at his hands. "There were . . . others," he said carefully. "People who helped me reconsider my perspective. I was only able to take the steps I have because of them."

"Then go back to them," she said, voice gentle and sweet, like he was a child again. "Ask them for help."

"I don't know that I can ask a thing like that," Shouto admitted. "Not of . . . people like them." "There's nothing holding you back," she insisted. "You can't learn without a teacher."

"Can I ask them to teach me something like this?" Shouto wondered. "I don't want to ask them to support me if I can't do anything for them."

"Don't sell yourself short Shouto," she said encouragingly. "You have so much to offer a friend."

"I don't know how to be a friend," he said. "I don't feel worthy of having one. I feel like I should have to save you before I can do something so selfish."

"If you want to save me," she'd told him, and her tone made him look up, "then you need to learn how. If you have people who care for you already, learn from them. They can teach you how to open your heart. That, more than anything else, will save me."

Shouto had been back to see her many times since then. He'd told her the names of his friends, once it became clear to him that they were friends, and told her all about them. How Izuku was clever and brave and could outmaneuver any opponent. How Hitoshi was fierce and determined and stronger than even he could understand. How much Shouto admired both of them, and how he felt admired by them in return.

"We're going to do a few things as a class before summer training," he told her the day after classes let out, the first official day of summer break. "Most of them will be with all of us, but I have something in mind for just me, Izuku and Hitoshi."

"Is your father alright with that?" she asked, her usual calm demeanor tinged with anxiety. "He won't object?"

"I'm staying in the dorm over summer break," Shouto said, after taking a sip from his strawberry milk. "He can't stop me."

"I'm still surprised he allowed you to move into the dorm at all," his mother confessed.

Shouto hesitated. He could give her the official explanation, about the danger from villains and the added security. He could list out the advantages, the access to better facilities and more equipment, all the talking points he'd used to convince his father. He could let her believe that he was content

to follow his father's plan, to become the top hero and simply do it 'in his own way' like that would matter in the slightest to Endeavor.

Or he could tell her the truth.

"The dorm was for me," he said.

His mother blinked, confused. "What?"

"The dorms were implemented so that I could get away from father," Shouto said, his heart beating a little faster in excitement. It was good to tell her, to tell someone who would understand. "Principal Nezu put the system in place to get me out of his house."

His mother shook her head as though to clear it, mouth open in disbelief. "How-"

"It's part of Izuku's plan to take Endeavor down," Shouto explained, voice rising with emotion. "He's already started turning public opinion against Endeavor, and when he's through the police will have no choice but to investigate. We'll make sure they find the evidence they need to put him away for good."

"Shouto," she whispered, then glanced at the door with fearful eyes. "Is that a good idea?"

"It's the only way to rescue you from this place-" Shouto began, but his mother was already shaking her head.

"No, please," she said earnestly, "don't do this for my sake. Who will teach you to use your fire if not him?"

"Hitoshi's quirk can help me with my fire," Shouto insisted, the carton in his hand crumpling slightly as his fingers clenched reflexively around it. "The thing that's stopping me from reaching my full potential is my fear of father, and Hitoshi's helping me erode that away. I don't need Endeavor to get stronger, I already am!"

"Please keep it down," she said, throwing another anxious look at the door. "Shouto I . . . is it smart to risk making him angry? If he finds out-"

"He won't," Shouto cut her off firmly. "Principal Nezu's too careful to let that happen. Please mom, I need you to believe me when I say this will work. This is my friends trying to help me. That's what you wanted, right?"

His mother looked taken aback for a moment, as though she didn't know how to respond. Then she took a deep breath and settled a little.

"I'm glad you have friends that are willing to help you with . . . what you've been through," she said, carefully skirting the topic of their shared trauma like she always did. "It makes me happy that you have people who want to help you improve. I don't want you three to waste your time on me, when you have more important things to focus on."

"What could be more important than your freedom?" Shouto demanded.

"How about the three of you?" his mother asked, her gentle smile back in place, a little sadder than before but still warm and kind. "What do you want your future to hold, for all of you together? Do you want to make that any more . . . official, than it already is?"

Shouto felt his cheeks growing warm, and he looked away, down at where her hand rested on the

knee of her hospital clothes. Her hands were soft, nothing to create callouses here, but the skin was dry. This place wasn't good for her. She wasn't being hurt anymore, but she wasn't thriving.

"I'm not sure," he admitted. "I don't think I'm ready for that." "I see," she said, sounding dejected and forlorn.

"However," Shouto went on, looking back up into her eyes, "I would like to bring them here to meet you, if that's alright."

His mother looked surprised, putting a hand to her mouth. "Are you sure? I'm not in the best condition-"

"You're my mother," Shouto interrupted. "You raised me, as well as you could under the circumstances. I could never be ashamed of you no matter what. I want them to meet you, even if it's here."

She took a deep, steadying breath, then nodded. "Alright. If it's what you want, then I'd be happy to meet your friends."

Shouto left the hospital feeling better than he had in days. Ever since the final exam and his friends' fight with All Might, a gloomy cloud had been hanging over him. Thinking back on the exam later, he almost felt like the odd man out. Hitoshi and Izuku were a great team, even without him. He'd felt useless, like he wasn't needed, and he couldn't do anything about it. This, however, lifted his spirits considerably. This was something he could share with them, a way that he could invite them into his life, to see the effect they were having on it. This was a way he could show them how much happiness they had given him.

As he walked down the front steps of the hospital his phone began to ring with Hitoshi's ringtone, and he pulled it out of his pocket with a smile. The rest of the class had gone shopping today, and Hitoshi and Izuku had gone with them. They were probably finished by now, given how late it was.

"Hi," he said, expecting to hear Hitoshi's satisfied drawl about how he'd missed out on some interesting event, or even Izuku's excited rambling about some hero merch he'd found.

What he wasn't expecting was a string of panicked babbling that left him struggling to keep up. It took him a few moments to even figure out what Hitoshi was saying, he was talking so fast his words were running together. Shouto had never heard him sound so distressed, not even in the alley when they'd been facing the Hero Killer.

"Hitoshi, calm down," he instructed, once he realized he wasn't going to get any good information from the flood of words. "Take a deep breath, and tell me what happened to Izuku."