It wasn't until three weeks later that Katsuki and Izuku organized a time to meet with Ojiro. Ojiro had a pass (with a certain number of guest allowances per month) to the Murata Quirk Gym, so Katsuki and Izuku took the train forty kilometers to the south to meet their acquaintance. It was, conveniently, one of the few gyms Izuku had heard of that didn't ask for any quirk information on the liability waivers. In theory it was illegal to discriminate against anyone on the basis of a quirk... in practice it happened all the time in one way or another, and Izuku had been worried that he would have to reveal he was quirkless and would then be denied access to the gym on some technicality...
The building in question was a single story, warehouse style, but quite modern with a sleek, neon sign and broad, well-washed windows. The tailed boy waited for them outside with another friend, a tall, many-armed boy by the name of Shouji. They had known to expect him.
"Nice to finally meet you, Midoriya, Bakugou," the masked student said. "Likewise!" Izuku smiled. Kacchan made some sort of reasonably friendly noise. "Let's head in," Ojiro said, holding the door open for them.
Katsuki and Izuku handed in their "first time" liability waivers on the front desk to the attendant-- who was probably related to Ojiro going off the very similar mutation. The four proceeded to the third of the practice rooms on the left. There were, similarly, three rooms on the right and a broad area between with weights and equipment. "The big quirk gym with the weird stuff and the pool is in the basement," Shouji told them as Izuku looked about in wonder.
Two middle aged women practiced grab escapes and arm bars in one corner of the room, using the line of mirrors across the wall to check each other's form.
The mats in the opposite corner were unoccupied. Izuku began a routine of warm-ups and stretches which he knew by heart despite no one having ever taught him. The others performed similar pre- combat rituals.
"So, what's your quirk?" Shouji asked Izuku.
"I'm quirkless," he replied.
Shouji narrowed his eyes in confusion. "He's very good," Ojiro said. "You'll see."
Shouji and Izuku paired off. Katsuki faced Ojiro. "No quirks on the first round. We can slowly work them in," the tailed boy said.
Shouji was fast and immensely strong compared to Izuku even without working in his extra arms, but Izuku knew exactly how to deal with that situation, how to use his opponents momentum for throws, how to press all the strength of his own body against the weakest finger of the grip to escape Shouji's hold on a slender wrist. He was steadily getting used to the way he moved, learning to understand what he was doing, not just do it. He didn't surprise himself so much anymore. Just as he thought that, Izuku discovered himself doing some kind of bizarre throw that defied his current comprehension. There were still some surprises to be found, evidently.
"You are very good," Shouji admitted after Ojiro called a halt. "Where did you learn?"
Izuku shrugged. "I don't know. It's a long story, a complicated, weird one." A story he was getting tired of telling.
"He is an amnesiac vigilante," said Ojiro blandly.
"Wait, really?" Shouji asked, glancing rapidly between the two boys.
Izuku shrugged again. "W-well, I disappeared for a week almost three months ago now. I don't remember anything, but Ojiro apparently saw me take down a mugger in a back alleyway."
Shouji considered this, apparently decided that it was irrelevant, and changed the subject. "I hear both of you are also UA hopefuls?"
"I don't need to hope," Kacchan said. "Just need to not slack off."
"We'll see about that," Shouji replied cheerfully, beckoning. "Let's see what you've got."
Katsuki growled, accepting the challenge, and the sparring pairs swapped. It was like cutting in at a dance. Did Izuku know how to dance now? That was something to check.
The last few rounds of the day allowed quirks. Ojiro had been running sparring sessions for years, and everyone trusted his judgment as to when they knew enough about one another for quirk sparring to be safe, or more serious quirk sparing for Ojiro and Shouji who hadn't been so much not using their quirks as not using their quirks to great effect.
Izuku collapsed into an exhausted heap before any of the other three. "No sense fighting when you're tired; we don't want anyone making a mistake and getting hurt," Ojiro told him.
"'Course not," Izuku agreed with a yawn. "Does this place have showers?" "Downstairs, take a left and then another left," Shouji told him.
By the time Izuku had removed his layer of sweat and grime, the other three were calling it quits for the day. "Would you two be interested in meeting regularly? Every other Sunday?" Ojiro proposed.
"Don't you think you practice enough?" Shouji pointed out, clearly amused. "You're in class every
weekday evening."
"Well... but I know everyone in class..." Ojiro pointed out, "and Midoriya and Bakugou can do things I've never seen before."
Shouji chuckled . "I swear... you'd spend your whole life fighting if it were an option." "I mean, it is an option? It's called "going to hero school?""
The taller boy cocked his head then nodded. "Fair point I suppose." It was.
"I'm game, and I know Izuku is, too," Kacchan said, rubbing his wrists. He hadn't been using his quirk enough to strain those muscles; he must have hurt himself some other way. "I'm gonna' hit the showers."
"I'm going to go to that shop across the street and get some ice cream," Izuku decided. "Meet me there?"
"Get me a cup of the darkest chocolate they have, huh?" Kacchan asked.
"Sure." They'd settle their debts later.
"Thank you guys so much. This was really neat and good practice," Izuku told Shouji and Ojiro.
"For next time, they open an archery range downstairs between four and five every day, and you can check out quarter staves if you like... and prove you know what you're doing. You know how to use weapons, Midoriya?" Ojiro inquired.
"Knives," Izuku answered. "At least knives, anyway. I've never had the chance to see whether I know bows or staves... but I'd love to find out."
"Sounds good. I look forward to it."
"See you guys later," Izuku waved as the group split.
It turned out that Izuku did know his way around bows--ranging from short to compound to cross-- and staves. He was not as skilled at archery as he was at knife throwing (which was something he could practice on his own at home with a hefty piece of plywood if he were very careful). Ojiro described Izuku as "absolutely lethal with a quarterstaff."
It was flattering but also so wrong . These weren't his skills. He didn't work to learn to fight this way as Ojiro or Kacchan or Shouji had. He had just suddenly woken up knowing it.
"That's so cool," Ojiro said to him as Izuku knocked the tailed boy down for the fourth time that afternoon. "You're awesome, Midoriya." He looked absolutely elated to have lost this round, which was typical for him. Unlike Kacchan who always wanted to win and Shouji who seemed neutral towards the whole affair, Ojiro was thrilled when he lost and always came back smarter and stronger for the next round.
"I'm not."
"What?"
"Awesome it's all... it's not me. I didn't earn this. It's all fraud, like if... like if you barely graduated high school but then inherited a huge biotech company and everyone thought you must be a genius... but you're not."
Ojiro considered this. "I--I can see what you mean. I would... I would feel that way, too, I think. It would feel like cheating." He considered this. "But it's not like you're squandering it? And it's not like you're really that different from the rest of us."
"What?"
"Well... I mean it's not like I did anything to earn my tail. It's, I mean if you weren't sure you were quirkless this might just pass for a latent quirk emerging. There are people who have quirks that allow them to fight like an expert with any weapon they pick up; my old sensei when I was learning Taekwondo was like that. He didn't have the... complete combat mastery you do, but there are people that do. So, when I tell you you're awesome, it's the same as telling Bakugou I think his quirk is really cool."
"I... well, I guess," Izuku sighed. "It just feels wrong."
"Yeah. But I don't think it is, though."
The two of them had acquired enough bruises for one day. Shouji and Kacchan were still busy pummeling each other. "It's crazy that the UA entrance exam is only two months away," Izuku sighed. "It feels like I just met you."
"Time flies," Ojiro agreed. "You've gotten much more confident. I could tell, when we first spared, that you were surprised to know what you were doing, that every movement startled you but you were... going with the flow I guess. It was one of the things that made me really start to believe you about what happened to you."
Izuku nodded. "It was... shocking . Like waking up in someone else's body." Long hours of practice had started to erase that foreign feeling, as had the handful of lucid dreams Izuku had experienced in the past few weeks, all of which involved learning and practicing martial arts, street fighting and... using assault weapons. North America was a crazy place. All of the visions had been rather blurry, but the conscious information conveyed had meshed well with the unconscious reflexes in his muscles.
"That must have been terrifying."
"It's still terrifying," Izuku whispered as Shouji managed to pin a snarling Kacchan to the mats. "I still wonder what happened to me when I was gone. I could have done anything. Anything could have been done to me. I'll probably never know."
The tailed boy was silent as Shouji let Kacchan get up. The two were back at it a moment later. "I'm sorry, Midoriya," Ojiro said eventually. "I'm sorry I didn't try to follow you that day. I should have."
"I don't think it would have made a difference if you had... you might have just got hurt, but... thank you."
Spring had passed. In other words, it had finally stopped snowing now and it was time for finals. Chris stumbled out of his last class of the day with an imposing pile of textbooks in his arms. He was planning on a economics major, maybe a double with psychology, and, as such, was overloaded with texts despite only being a freshman.
"I can barely see you behind that stack of books," Izuku laughed. "Want a hand?"
"Sure," Chris thanked him. Izuku took the top two from the stack, "Principles of Statistics" and "Multivariable Calculus."
"I still don't understand how you managed to come in with so many credits," Izuku grumbled. Well, he did. He understood how the IB diploma worked. "You should be plowing your way through the liberal education requirements right now and enjoying your freshman year like a normal person."
Chris shrugged. "I am enjoying my freshman year, and it's not like I don't have any free time at all." His accent was much less pronounced now. Izuku kind of missed his old manner of speech sometimes, which was admittedly kind of strange.
The pair of them began to zigzag towards the international house and honors dorms, dodging the crowds of finals-frazzled students rushing between classes. They turned a corner--
"What do we want?" shouted a voice from a bullhorn. "Freedom!"
"When do we want it?"
"Now!"
"Who do we want it for?" "Everyone!"
"Oh, wow," Chris stared wide-eyed at the rally accumulating in front of the law school. Several people had signs, one saying "Daren McCarthy Out Now" referring to the current Director of Homeland Security who was constantly antagonistic towards metahumans. Another had a sign showing the logo that appeared on metahuman identification patches--it was like the radiation symbol but with five blades and an enclosing circle--followed by an equals sign and... oh. Well, that was offensive, but not untrue. Another had a similar sign reading "Metahuman Registration = " followed by a red swastika.
Some people in the crowd were obviously metahumans. It was obvious either because they were wearing-- or holding the tattered remains of-- the identifying patch required by law or because they had obvious metaabilities. One of them had cat ears which he proudly (shamelessly) showed off. Another had broad, bat-like wings. The woman with wings stood on a bench in front of the crowd holding up her registration papers and her metahuman identification patch. A small young man who probably wasn't a metahuman (but it was impossible to say, really, especially in that crowd) struck a lighter and set the papers and patch alight.
"This is America! We do not brand our citizens with pest-ban marks because of an accident of their birth, do we?"
"No!" the crowd yelled, and Izuku found himself yelling with them, the passion in the air infectious as more students began to accumulate. It looked like there might be a counter-protest forming behind the library... that probably wouldn't go anywhere given the current campus climate; Izuku was quite certain that the majority of metahumans on campus weren't wearing their patches and the administration mostly pretended not to notice.
It looked like a lot of the protesters had shirts from one of the campus organizations, "Students for Equal Justice." The rally couldn't be organized by the SEJ itself, though, because they were law- abiding and burning your papers was illegal; not wearing your patch was illegal; burning your patch was really illegal, but the fact that it wasn't an SEJ event didn't mean that many of the SEJ members wouldn't show up.
Campus and city police began to arrive, but the officers kept their distance, not interested in starting something ; no one wanted a repeat of last summer's LA Metahuman Riots that ended with fifteen people dead and hundreds arrested.
"How can they do this in public?" asked Chris, voice frightened and hollow.
"What?"
"They... in Japan, if someone didn't wear their identifying patch or burned their papers or even... failed to register they would be taken to prison for a decade." Izuku hadn't kept up with the current Japanese attitudes towards metahumans. He knew it was... bad.
"Hallow v. Nebraska is going to the Supreme Court next week," Izuku said, "and there's no possible way it won't be struck down. Forcing people to register with the government just for existing the way they do is blatantly unconstitutional. All similar state laws are going to go out the window with Nebraska's Metaability Control Act."
"You... know a lot about this," Chris whispered, a strange, far away look in his eyes. "Well, I'm invested in the situation," Izuku admitted.
"Me, too, I suppose," Chris whispered. "Do you know... who the woman calling, I mean leading, is?"
Who was the woman organizing the chants? Izuku squinted. "No idea."
Another three people stepped into the center of the crowd to burn their identification patches.
Hallow v. Nebraska was overturned seven to two by the U.S. Supreme Court decades ago, years before Izuku's mother was even born. That reduced the explanations for Izuku's dreams to "time travel" or "not my memories." This also ruled out "weird hallucination" because Izuku had certainly never heard of that court case or the L.A. Metahuman Riots and the five bladed logo on the registration patches was definitely something Izuku hadn't seen before his disappearance, either.
"So it's real, it's the past, at an American university," Izuku muttered to himself. "Is it me in the past? Still up in the air... it feels like me? But... I don't know. The timeline spanned a full year at
least from meeting Chris in the fall to finals in the spring, so if it is me something really, really weird is going on, probably a lot weirder than... well, I think I'll assume they're someone else's memories. That makes more sense... but why do I have someone else's memories? I know there are quirks that can tamper with minds that way... but why bother? There's no point? Kidnap me for a week, turn me into a vigilante, wipe my memories and leave me with a bunch that belong to another person? Why?"
Some instinctual part of him didn't want to tell Detective Tsukauchi. It wasn't instantly clear why he just... didn't feel like it was a good idea. The more rational part of his brain, though, insisted that he absolutely needed to call and explain what was happening. He would do that tomorrow afternoon. He had a block of time free at a reasonable hour for a phone conversation.
Tomorrow came and went and Izuku talked himself out of making the call. It wasn't like this was important or really helpful to investigators. Izuku's case was cold by now; no one was looking into it anymore and, honestly, maybe they didn't need to. The only person who really seemed to care anymore was Izuku... so why waste the time of heroes and police?
He was just barely self-aware enough, lying awake in bed that night, to understand the underlying force behind his decision. On some level, he just didn't believe that the adults would do... anything. They might pat him on the head and say "it's wonderful that you're remembering something," but they were unlikely to take action beyond that. They never really cared about him. In his first year at Aldera, Izuku told the assistant principal, Mr. Hasegawa, that one of the third years had pushed him down the stairs and he had a sprained wrist to show for it. Mr. Hasegawa told him "I'll take care of it" and Izuku never heard another word on the matter. It wasn't as if that reaction were an exception, it was the rule. Adults didn't care. Aizawa and Tsukauchi had seemed different... but knowing something was likely to be true was different from believing something to be true. He couldn't convince himself to trust them.
The conclusion was this: the dream visions probably weren't important to anyone except Izuku and the adults wouldn't do anything if he did told them, anyway...
So why bother?