Being under "observation" meant that Izuku had to stay in a safe house for the week. This "safe house" was actually a hotel. The police took a blood sample from him (among other things, like his clothes) before providing him with a hefty serving of curry for lunch and leaving him and his mother alone in the small room. This was no luxury hotel but it was clearly not a cheap place, either. Everything was well cleaned and well maintained. There was a microwave and a refrigerator and two beds that were just close enough to tempt one to leap between them . Yes, Izuku was going to do just that after his mother went home, regardless of the fact that he knew there were cameras in the main room. He had been promised that there were no cameras in the bathroom, so he considered the arrangement acceptable.

The two Midoriyas ate together at a tiny table in the corner by the window. The chipboard table was barely large enough for both of them to set down their takeout bowls, but it was better than eating on the floor. "Do you think you can get my homework from school? Because I have to stay here all week?" Izuku asked, eating ravenously despite the sick anxiety that stalked him like an unrelenting predator. He was going to feel sick and anxious probably for the rest of his life, he would have to get used to eating and working and living despite that feeling.

"Of course," his mother told him, voice wobbling slightly. He was surprised she hadn't started crying yet. It had to happen sometime to one or both of them. It was a defining family characteristic. If they didn't burst into tears, they weren't Midoriyas.

"I'm kind of glad I don't remember," Izuku said. "I don't know what there was to forget, but I can't imagine it was good. Still... I suppose I'll have to spend my whole life wondering..."

"The detective and Mr. Aizawa will do their best to find out what happened to you," his mother said gently.

Izuku shook his head. "They didn't find me . I can't imagine they'll find the people that took me." Tears, at long last, dripped down his cheeks.

"Are... are you...?" she trailed off, not finishing the thought. Was Izuku okay? That was what she

had meant to ask, wasn't it? It was hard to say. There didn't seem to be anything wrong with him physically, nothing serious anyway. The scars on his chest were quite obviously the aftermath of bullet wounds. The still healing marks on his arm were, indeed, a bite wound from something big with a weird mouth design, probably a person with a mutation quirk. The doctor who took his blood informed him of that... and told him that his other arm had been recently broken, although the speed healing was nearly perfect. He didn't remember any of that pain . It was... the greenette didn't even know how he was supposed to feel about that let alone what he actually felt. What would be socially acceptable to feel in these circumstances? If he could at least figure out how society expected him to feel, maybe he could piece together what his emotions were in practice. Did Izuku know of any fictional characters or public figures who had gone through something like this? He couldn't think of any.

"I'm going to wonder until the day I die," Izuku mumbled, "see those scars in the mirror and wonder who shot me and why, whether I deserved it."

His mother pulled him into a hug and held him there for nearly ten minutes. She wasn't allowed to stay the night. They ought to make the best of the time they had.

Eventually, Inko asked him, "the things that I heard about from the detective, has Katsuki said things like that to you before?"

"W-well," Izuku stuttered, "not exactly like that." "Izuku... why didn't you tell someone?"

The student shrugged. "No one ever seemed to care," he mumbled, and "tattling" about it might have made everything worse.

"I care! Mitsuki will care! She didn't raise her son to behave like that."

"It's... well, he's going to be a hero... and everyone wants him to be a hero so he should get..."

what was Izuku trying to say?

"Are you saying he should get more privileges just because he has a powerful quirk and wild ambitions?" his mother demanded. "That we shouldn't hold heroes or future heroes to the same standards as the rest of society? I thought it was quite the opposite, that heroes were supposed to set an example for the rest of us, to be better than us. Isn't that what All Might does? Isn't that why you look up to him?"

She was right. She was always right. "Yeah... I can't believe I met him. Can't believe I don't remember."

"I'm sorry Izuku..."

"Me too. What... what could I have done to deserve this?" he asked. "I--what's so wrong with me that things like this keep happening to me?"

"Things like this?"

"I'm quirkless and that's really rare, so horrible luck, and I was probably just used as a living weapon for a week and it's not like that happens very often, either! What did I do to deserve this?" he demanded of no one.

"You didn't do anything wrong, Izuku," his mother told him firmly. "This isn't your fault." She still hadn't cried, although her eyes watered now.

"Did someone coach you?" Izuku wondered, a strange suspicion taking hold, "on what to say to me?"

She paused, considering. "I made myself believe we would find you," she began, "even though the police told me you were probably gone I... I think they thought you... I think they thought you took your own life." Izuku started, shaking his head violently. He would never. Never. That would be giving up and that wasn't something Izuku would ever do. "I suppose that was because of what Katsuki said to you. They didn't tell me about that. I made myself believe I would see you again and I prepared myself for when we would find you. I read a few books about how to handle my emotions, about how to help kidnapping victims and victims of mind control face the aftermath."

She was doing a really good job so far. Those must be good books. "Oh. Thank you, mom. You're always the best to me."

Izuku had never had a lucid dream before, not that he remembered anyway. It was very odd to be distinctly aware that he was asleep yet be so invested in the dream world through which he walked.

He was in a basement, maybe, moonlight shining through a handful of windows placed so high on the wall that they almost reached the arching ceiling. Dim electric torches and a handful of candles illuminated table after table of the mess hall. Izuku didn't recognize any of these people and yet... he knew them. They were friends, companions. One of them, a woman with talons and fangs made of ice, waved to him and winked. He waved back playfully, moving between the rows quickly. He wanted to get his meal before all the good food was gone, after all, and there was quite a line already. Everyone was in uniform, as they should be. They were an army, they needed to look the part of a united force...

Izuku blinked the sleep form his eyes. It took him a few minutes to remember why he was in a hotel and not in his bed at home. He sighed and forced himself to get up and dress in the generic sweatpants and t-shirt provided to him by the police force. His mother would bring him more clothes when she came by with his homework. For now he would have to make do.

A few minutes later, a knock sounded on the door and Aizawa entered at Izuku's greeting. "Good morning, Midoriya," the hero said, placing a bag of pastries and a cup of tea on the tiny table. "I brought you breakfast."

"T-thank you, sir," Izuku said.

"You don't have to call me sir," Aizawa sniffed. Izuku nodded. "Okay."

"Did you sleep well?"

"I guess? Weird dream..."

Aizawa pulled one of the chairs away from the table and took a seat. Izuku sat down in front of his tea. "What kind of "weird dream?""

"I-I've never been a lucid dreamer before," Izuku said.

The underground hero raised an eyebrow. "You realize that's almost certainly a side effect of the quirk that erased your memory ."

"Yeah," he understood that. "But my brain chemistry probably got totally scrambled so there's no reason to think that it actually means anything. Probably just gobbledygook."

Aizawa snorted, presumably at the word "gobbledygook." "What happened in this dream, Midoriya?"

"Not much, really. I was walking through a mess hall. There were a lot of people there in military uniforms but I couldn't see any details, so I don't know if it was a real country's service or not."

"Hm," the hero narrowed his eyes in suspicion but said nothing more.

"Thank you, by the way," Izuku said, "for looking for me. Did I already thank you for that?"

The hero nodded slowly. "Yes, and it's my job. You don't have to thank me for it."

Izuku shrugged, rubbing the back of his head nervously, "w-well, it doesn't have to be your job, right? You chose to become a hero so..."

"Indeed. You want to be an underground hero, Midoriya?"

This was going to be hard to explain. " A-aizawa, I don't r-remember that conversation with All Might."

"I know."

"But I didn't think I wanted to be an underground hero, I d-don't think I'd ever even considered it... I, as in me, u-uninfluenced by whatever it was happened to me, I wouldn't have asked All Might that question. I always wanted to be a hero but I always... I always dreamed of being frontline."

Aizawa raised an eyebrow. He seemed to do that a lot. "A quirkless individual would be terribly ill-suited to that. Even most quirked individuals are ill-suited to that. In fact, something like half of the current frontline would be better as rescue heroes or in the underground or joining the EMTs or firefighters instead. Frontline is all about hitting heavy hitters harder than the heavy hitters hit you. What you, or your shadow, said to All Might about why quirkless individuals can make it in the underground, that's all true. It's good thinking."

Izuku, having finished half of his tea, finally turned his attention to his pastries. "W-why are you telling me this?"

"I think you have potential," the hero said simply. Izuku stared at him, waiting for an elaboration. Instead, the hero pulled a blade--a wooden training knife, but Izuku didn't realize that until after he lunged to his feet and disarmed the pro with a technique that was probably from a martial art Izuku had never even heard of. Izuku stared at the knife for a moment before handing it back. "I have no reason to think those reflexes are going to go away. You're smart. You're motivated. You are now

in possession of fighting skills that take decades to master. I teach the heroics course at UA. I know potential when I see it."

"Y-you teach at UA?"

"I do. The detective said you wanted to apply. Was that real? I mean, do you remember filling out your career interest form like that?"

Izuku nodded. "Yeah. I've always wanted to go to UA, though... I really expected to get into general education if anything." Even when optimistic parts of his brain dreamed of reaching for the stars, some more realistic parts of his brain kept putting things in perspective.

"I don't see any reason why you can't make it into the hero course, providing you work on your strength and endurance, make sure you have the physical prowess to use those new skills properly," Aizawa said, arms crossed. "Weapons are allowed on the practical portion of the entrance exam, reasonable weapons anyway. Someone did try to bring in an artillery piece, once, and the teachers decided that shouldn't be allowed. Form 21-T is what you probably need," the teacher continued, pulling out a folder with the UA logo in white on a blue background which he set on the table next to Izuku's breakfast. "It's a request to rent support equipment from UA for the test. You can borrow knives, axes, staves, ropes, certain pieces of protective equipment like helmets, and a few more specialized things. I suggest you arrange to borrow a knife, maybe two if you have the skills to dual wield."

"I wouldn't know," Izuku mumbled, taking a bite of his pastry for the first time. It was delicious, flaky and filled with soft chocolate.

Aizawa nodded. "I'm really sorry about this, kid," he said.

"Huh?"

"I'm sorry this happened to you. I'm encouraging you to make the best of it but, damn--sorry, I know teachers shouldn't swear--" Izuku couldn't help but smile at that, "I cannot imagine how disorienting this must be. I would be terrified."

"I mean, yes I'm terrified." Apparently he hid it well. "I'm terrified that they'll realize I did something horrible, that I hurt someone or killed someone and... and there's nothing I can do about it. Probably nothing I could have done about it. I'll probably never even know whether I had a choice in hurting that person or not. Maybe the quirk forced me to act and I wasn't even conscious, maybe it was just an insistent suggestion and I should really be held responsible and charged for assault or m-murder... or maybe I didn't do anything wrong at all and was just kidnapped to take part in some underground cage matches or something and nobody was really hurt because it was all a show... I think I like that last option the best, even thought it's super creepy and really unlikely."

Aizawa watched him carefully. "Given what I learned about you during this investigation, I can say with near total confidence that you would never hurt anyone if you had any other option." How did Aizawa know that? What had he learned and where had he learned it? Had he just talked to Izuku's classmates or was there more to it? "People do not simply throw away a decade worth of ingrained morals and behaviors on a whim. Whatever your hands may have done last week, you have done nothing wrong." Aizawa couldn't know that for sure, but it was nice to hear him say it.

"Thank you. Again, thank you."

The hero gave him the barest hint of a smile. "A number of people have been asking to see you."

"Really?" Who could that be? He had already seen his mother. Who else would care enough to want to come talk to him?

"Bakugou Mitsuki, Bakugou Masaru, and Bakugou Katsuki would all like to speak with you. A few other classmates have asked after you as well, as has your teacher, Mr. Kondo."

"I'd b-be happy to see the Bakugous. You can tell the others I'm fine... I'll see them in school next week, but I d-don't really know any of them that well and I don't want to talk to them right now." He didn't have many friends at school, any friends, really.

"Alright. The Bakugou family will probably come by tomorrow. Are you sure you want to see their kid, though? I understand your mother and his mother are friends, but...?"

Izuku nodded firmly. "He's not really as bad as all that." "If you say so, kid."

Aizawa left. The underground operative was presumably teaching as well as carrying out hero duties. Aizawa didn't say whether he would have the chance to come check back in that week. He must be incredibly busy, so Izuku didn't expect to see him again.

Around noon, Izuku's mother arrived with lunch , reading, and homework for him. Catching up was going to be a chore, but Izuku could handle it. He was always among the best of the class academically. "This is creepy," he muttered, filling out another work sheet with hardly any effort.

"What?" asked his mother. She was still finishing her own lunch.

"I'm fluent in English now, and I'm pretty sure I know things about math and science that I didn't before." That was even more disturbing, really, than learning he was a terror with throwing knives. Throwing was a reflex, something his muscles knew to do. This was actual information imprinted in his brain with no discernible origin.

It was useful. It was violating. Someone had shoved all these things in his head as if Izuku's brain were their property. He clenched his fingers around his pencil until it snapped. "I wonder what else I know now."