Apparently snowball fights were one of their favorite pastimes or something, because here was another one. This one was better organized than the last Izuku had participated in and there were more people involved, maybe a dozen, but in the end the only three players that really mattered were Izuku, Kuma, and Chris. They were the masters here.
Izuku had built up a fort out of snow blocks--well, most of a fort. He had two walls and that was enough (or so he fervently hoped.) Kuma had slipped behind him once already and only been driven off when another faction began to bombard her. Chris had taken advantage of some abandoned chairs--used for outdoor studying in fairer weather--for shielding. Kuma, being some kind of ninja, needed no fort.
Speaking of Kuma, where was she? Behind him again? In a tree again? Chris peeked out of his chair castle. "Do you see Kuma?" he yelled. Izuku shook his head. Chris's eyes flew wide and two snowballs pelted Izuku in the back of the head.
"Slippery," Izuku grumbled, ducking to the ground. Kuma had managed to surreptitiously join a group of innocent bystanders, using them for cover before launching her ambush. That was probably against the Geneva Convention.
Kuma won the fight. She always won, but this time it was a slaughter. Izuku, having long since given up, watched with cold (literally) dispassion as Chris surrendered.
He stood there in the gently falling snow, arms crossed, fantasizing about hot chocolate and marshmallows, as Kuma reached out a hand to help Destro, the honest to god leader of the Meta Liberation Army, out of a snow bank.
"I'm such an idiot," Izuku mumbled, staring straight up at the ceiling. How could he have missed this? How? It wasn't as if photos of Destro were particularly hard to come by; he'd seen plenty before, all be it not for a good long time. So Chris dyed his hair and covered his facial markings with concealer and was a bit young and cheery, so what? He just shouldn't be that hard to recognize. Why hadn't Izuku thought--well, what had he thought? He'd assumed that Chris couldn't be important like that, or, rather, assumed that Izuku couldn't be important like that so no one Izuku interacted with in these visions could be important like that, either. "I'm such an idiot," he repeated for lack of anything else to say.
Everyone knew Destro was a ruthless killer, unwavering in faith to his beliefs and unwilling to compromise on any front or spare anyone who disagreed with him. Perhaps that sort of devotion to an ideal might have been admirable, if the ideal hadn't boiled down to murderous anarchy. Destro had been a cold, calculating, psychopath who cared nothing for anyone, maybe not even himself. Everything and everyone was expendable to him as long as his army's goals could be achieved. Everyone knew that. He was a boogeyman, dead but immortalized as a legend of blood and terror.
Except... what Izuku had seen didn't match up with that at all. Chris had seemed, for all intents and purposes, like a... like a nice guy. Izuku couldn't make himself start thinking of Chirs as Destro, not yet anyway, although he'd have to at some point. Anyway, Chris had lost to Kuma in snowball fights with good grace; he seemed to care about his friends quite deeply. Hell, Izuku had seen him sobbing over the death of one of his companions that... just didn't square with the official stories. And why should it? History was written by the victors and what did Izuku really know about the original Meta Liberation Army or its leaders? Gossip, essentially, and what good was gossip? Aldera students might have talked about the MLA for two history classes in their first year but certainly no more than that and those lessons had mostly just said "these were bad people doing bad things."
Izuku sighed. If he didn't have class, he would have loved to dive into some serious research that morning. He would have started the night before except for some reason doing homework and pretending nothing was wrong had been really appealing. As it was, he would have to wait until the next night to begin his search.
"You alright?" Shouji asked. Izuku started back to reality to find himself poking his food as if it were some kind of exotic plant specimen and he an avid collector.
"I-it's... I r-realized I did something really stupid a while ago," he said, not wanting to keep up the USJ excuse. This was the truth, after all. "There was something obvious and I didn't understand it... It's really embarrassing and I just can't stop thinking about it."
"Ah," said Shouji nodding. "I know that feeling very well."
Ojiro sniffed. "I once accidentally insulted my grandmother in a casual conversation. I didn't even
realize how offensive it was until three hours later and I was... I still can't think about it without wanting to tear my hair out."
"You guys have issues," Katsuki said, munching on his lunch without concern. "Thanks, Kacchan," Izuku said dryly.
Uraraka and Asui appeared to be having some kind of argument. Uraraka stood up, scrubbed her face, and fled. "I hope everything's alright," Izuku said.
"Ah, yes," Tokoyami, who had seated himself nearby, entered the conversation. "I heard them talking earlier. Uraraka is very nervous about the Sport's Festival. The two of them are not really arguing. Tsu is merely trying to calm our nervous classmate."
"Makes sense I guess," Izuku acknowledged. He wasn't really nervous about the Sports Festival because he was so nervous about other things, but maybe he should be nervous. It was a nationally televised event. He had already run into two people, Ojiro and Kurogiri, who recognized Izuku from his missing week. How many people viewing the Sports Festival might recognize him? What if some of them had grudges? What if they tried to come after him or his mother? Suddenly Izuku was feeling very nervous about the Sports Festival himself. "Do you think I can keep them from using my name in the Sports Festival?" Izuku asked suddenly.
Tokoyami gave him a bewildered look. "Why would you want that? Even if you wish to become an underground hero, this is probably not a time to be hiding your achievements."
"Oh. Fuck," Katsuki clearly understood, as did Ojiro. Tokoyami just looked more confused and Shouji didn't seem to get it yet, either.
"It's... complicated," was all Izuku said, not wanting to reveal any secrets to another classmate just yet. "I'm... maybe I can talk to Aizawa about it?" Feeling the need to get this sorted immediately so he could sleep the next night, Izuku packed up his lunch and went to look for his teacher.
Izuku ran into Snipe first. "Excuse me?" he asked hurriedly. "Do you know where Aizawa is?" "Resting," the hero replied. "Everythin' alright with you?"
"It's... well, I realized that I m-might, w-well, it's about the Sports Festival and it's complicated..."
"Hm. Well, why don't I take you to talk to Nedzu instead, let Aizawa rest?"
"Eeep!" Izuku put a hand over his mouth, mortified by the squeak that had escaped. "I c-can't
disturb the principal not over something like this it'--I just can't." "Sure ya' can. Nedzu already told me ta' bring ya' by." "W-what?"
Snipe waved his phone. It wasn't clear if Snipe had texted Nedzu the question or if Nedzu had somehow already known and sent Snipe a message without prompting. "Apparently he's got some time on hand between plottin' sessions at the moment." Plotting? Plotting what? That wasn't disturbing at all.
Snipe relentlessly led Izuku onward to the principal's office. "Ah! Come in, Midoriya!" called a terrifyingly cheerful voice.
"Thank you, Snipe," Izuku said hollowly. The teacher tipped his hat and Izuku stepped into Nedzu's lair.
"Good afternoon, Midoriya," Nedzu greeted him from behind an elegant, ebony desk covered in stacks of controlled chaos and many unlabeled buttons. "Tea?" Had that teapot been there the whole time or had it just... appeared there somehow while Izuku was thinking about other things?
"Uh... yes, thank you?" Izuku said as it became clear that he was going to get a cup no matter what he said.
"So," Nedzu sipped his drink, "I hear you have some concerns about the Sports Festival?"
Izuku shifted nervously beneath the principal's penetrating stare. "I... do y-you know what happened to me last year?"
Nedzu nodded. "I am aware of all the details regarding the circumstances of your disappearance and reappearance, including Ojiro's report and the development involving Kurogiri at the USJ."
Oh. That was... that was good. "I'm worried that... I mean, if Kurogiri recognizes me... who else might?"
"Ah. I see. I, too, had been considering this," the principal acknowledged. "You do wish to participate in the festival, correct?"
"Yes, of course." Going to UA and not participating in the Sports Festival would be like going to eat at a junky fast-food restaurant and ordering a salad. That metaphor wasn't really flattering, but it got the idea across.
"Well, one thing we can do is refer to you by an alternate name. This would obscure your identity more effectively than referring to you as "student I" as it would not give anyone particular reason to dig into your background. Would you be amenable to this?"
Yeah. That would be a good thing to do. "Yes, please."
"I will make a similar offer to the other participants. I suspect that you will not be the only one who takes me up on it. I believe we have a number of aspiring underground heroes this year. Keep in mind that others, perhaps former school mates, may recognize you and post accurate information about you online."
Right. That was something he hadn't really considered. "Maybe I shouldn't participate at all," Izuku mumbled. "Or maybe I should compete with a bag over my head or something." At the very least, he could use some temporary hair dye and tie his locks back in an unusual style.
"At the end of the day," Nedzu said, paws steepled, "your status as a UA student and your identity simply cannot be hidden completely. I understand that this can be very nerve-wracking, especially in your situation as the risk is completely unknown. Kurogiri recognized you, but for all you know he may only know you as a common customer at his civilian place of work... or you might have been his mortal enemy.
"Now, it has been a very long time since anyone carried out a successful attack on a UA student or a UA student's family outside of school or work hours. The reason for that is not so much secrecy as security, including intelligence and counterintelligence operations which I lead, and," Nedzu bared his teeth, "the threat of overwhelming and vicious retaliation from all of our staff and alumni. Those who escaped the USJ will not be forgiven or forgotten. I will find them." There was a promise of terrible death in those words.
"T-thank you, Principal Nedzu," Izuku said shakily, because the mammal was scary when he was making that face and flattening his ears just so.
"I will make a note to teachers to announce the option for alternate names this afternoon. Thank you for bringing this to my attention, Midoriya. Do stop by if you ever need to talk about anything. I can often offer unique insights." Nedzu's eyes glittered like black diamonds and for a moment Izuku was convinced the mammal knew every last one of his secrets--but how could he unless he could read minds? Could he read minds? Izuku nodded, thanked the principal again, and returned to class.
As school came to a close that afternoon, Aizawa announced, "I have a message to pass on from Principal Nedzu." The restless class, all eager for the end of the day, settled immediately. "Given the attack on the USJ, anyone who would like to be referred to by a pseudonym during the Sports Festival to avoid calling attention to themselves or their families can fill out one of these forms," he handed the stack to Iida who began to pass them out to the class. "This should not affect your ability to find or accept internships following the Sports Festival. If you're thinking of becoming an underground hero, I would recommend considering this course of action."
Asui took a form, looking thoughtful. "Holy shit," Kacchan said. What? Oh. Todoroki was smiling . Not just smiling , but grinning . Maniacally. The usually stoic glacier-summoner snatched the form like a ravenous dog lunging for a bone and began to scribble down information immediately. But... people would know he was Endeavour's son. They would know , regardless of what he was called during the Sports Festival... Well, whatever made him happy was fine, probably?
Izuku took his form deftly and passed the pile on. Katsuki shook his head and handed the pile to Tokoyami who inspected it carefully before plucking one sheet from the top. In the end, close to half of the class was at least considering using a fake name for the Sports Festival.
"So, changing your name, nerd?" Katsuki asked Izuku as they made their way home.
"At the USJ Kurogiri recognized me," he said glumly. "Who knows who else might? I... it's best if I can keep my name out of the news."
Katsuki grimaced. " Oh. Yeah, fair that," he muttered. "What're you gonna' call yourself?"
"I haven't thought about it much yet," Izuku admitted. "I figured I would just choose a really common name like Yamamoto Akira or something."
"Yamamoto Akira," Kacchan sniffed. "Sure, I can see that."
"I guess I'll use that one?"
"Go wild. You're still nerd to me, though. Did you see Todoroki?" "Yeah. That was... weird."
"What the hell do you think is up with him?"
Izuku didn't know much about the ice-mancer. "Maybe..." there were some emotions that were nearly universal, "he wants to make a name for himself, like by himself , and doesn't want to stand in Endeavour's shadow? So being able to... not be known as the son of the number two hero might appeal to him? I don't know, you've spent more time with him than me."
"We were fighting for our lives, not much time to chat," Kacchan pointed out. "It would make sense, though, if that were why he was grinning like a nutcase."
"I wonder how many people in 1-B are going to use fake names," Izuku mused. "'Suppose we'll find out soon enough," the blonde replied.
Izuku managed to finish his homework with plenty of time to spare, then spent the remainder of the evening hunting for information on the MLA--real, unbiased information.
"Desto's generals" was the first thing he searched, and it paid off immediately. The second result showed him a very familiar picture.
"Tamiya Kuma," Izuku read, "aka Tripswitch, Japanese citizen. Quirk unknown. One of Destro's best generals and closest confidants, a skilled tactician. Fate unknown... but she stood by him for the majority of the war, and... it sounded like the scene I saw at the dining room table where Chris was sobbing was before the start of the MLA war. In retrospect it's like I was actually, literally seeing the start of the MLA war, or the conception of the Meta Liberation Army at least." There could be no doubt anymore that these weren't Izuku's memories, because otherwise Izuku had started the MLA and clearly that couldn't be the case; he would never. "So it wasn't Kuma who died, because she lived at least until the midway point of the war before she disappeared. Kuma probably died then, but maybe she left? Escaped? Changed her mind about her side?" Why was he so relieved by that thought? By the thought that this woman, this infamous villain who stood by Destro, probably the most infamous villain ever to live, had not been assassinated at a painfully young age?
"So who was Chris crying over? His mother maybe?" that would... that would actually make a lot of sense. Destro's mother, the so called Mother of Quirks was a figurehead, the one who invented the word "quirk" in the first place and put forward the idea that quirks should be accepted as just another part of someone. Supposedly, she was murdered by anti-meta-human protesters and that was one of the events that led to Destro forming the MLA and waging open war against a dozen governments for years.
Digging a bit deeper, Chris--Destro's--mother, Yotsubashi Shynah, had been a prominent political activist and possibly a social worker when she was younger. Her son had been driven from Japan by prejudice and had gone to study economics and psychology overseas, apparently in Minnesota (so Izuku had likely met Chris on a bridge over the Mississippi river). Yotsubashi Shynah had been a founding member of Citizens for Equality, a large group advocating for meta-human rights. The Meta Separation Movement had been founded at about the same time as CfE, and Yotsubashi might have had something to do with that, too. The MSM was a far less radical version of the MLA. It advocated allowing meta-humans to establish their own homelands apart from quirkless individuals. Huh. Izuku would be living in a country all by himself if that had actually happened. Anyway, Yotsuabshi Shynah had been a prominent activist and certain documents suggested that she had been assassinated while in witness seclusion, and if that were the case then maybe Chris's assertion that the government had her killed made sense... if, again, she was actually the one who Chris had been mourning at the table.
Ugh. This was all so complicated... too many moving parts and Izuku still couldn't quite wrap his head around the idea that he had seen Destro sobbing. That was just... hard to integrate into his world view.
Returning to his original search for "Destro's generals" Izuku had two more grand successes. First, he identified the lanky, silver haired man he had called Arch as Alexey Osinov, Russian citizen, one of Destro's most trusted strategists and assassins. Arch's quirk allowed him to fashion living ice sculptures off a sort, but could only be used on snow already in existence. He wasn't like Todoroki; he couldn't freeze water in the air.
Arch was killed in the MLA war. Izuku couldn't find any source that could give him any details, or rather he found too many sources with too many details. Someone suggested that Arch was executed, others that he committed suicide in the custody of the Russian, Chinese, or Japanese government, and some asserted that he had died leading a mission to break detained meta-humans out of a Siberian labor camp in the final days of the war.
Izuku also recognized the man who had been asleep or unconscious on the couch when Chris was crying. He was American citizen Rafael Leon, aka Switcher, one of Destro's oldest friends and his most reliable spy. Switcher was a changeling who could, possibly, copy people's quirks as well as their forms. Switcher might also be immortal. That was... terrifying. Little was known about his quirk or how it worked. The website just said "changeling, possibly capable of copying quirks, possibly ageless."
Continuing on with his search , Izuku was nearly stunned speechless to learn that Switcher was still alive . He had escaped at the end of the war to help create the Rebel Isles and, to this day, ruled Black Forest (also called "the City of Masks") the only place in the Rebel Isles that was safe and stable enough for people who were not career criminals to occasionally visit.
As one (completely insane) "tourist" wrote: "There are certain crimes for which Switcher has no tolerance whatsoever and some which phase him not in the least. Smuggling, arms deals, and the sale of illicit goods goes on day and night in the streets and cafes, with a few notable exceptions: living creatures, especially sentient ones, are not to be traded (save as pets in some cases) nor are things like ivory or shark fins, things derived from the bodies of rare or sentient creatures. For a small offense, trading old ivory perhaps, you will be run out of Black Forest. For a grave offense such as human trafficking you will be marched to the center square and shot. The later is also the fate of those who deal in quirk suppressing drugs or otherwise attempt to take free use of quirks from their fellows." Apparently there was little tolerance for outright murder in Black Forest, either, and, of course, kidnapping or taking hostages for any reason was a capital offense as it was considered equivalent to human trafficking.
"I'm really glad I was born in Japan," Izuku mused. He wouldn't want to live in a place like that, a place where blood was constantly and literally running in the streets.
Izuku sighed, closing his laptop for the night. "All of that is well and good," he muttered, "but doesn't help answer the question of whose point of view am I seeing ? And why?" Izuku must be viewing the past through the eyes of one of Destro's close confidants, likely one of his generals; Izuku hadn't researched them all yet. His memory donor must be in there somewhere. Maybe he would be lucky and see himself in a mirror sometime, hear himself called by name, or manage to rule out all possibilities save one. Even that wouldn't help him answer why or how... but at least he now had some idea of what. The mystery didn't seem quite so hopeless anymore.
After all, there was now a clear avenue to having at least most of those questions answered ( all be it a drastic one. ) Izuku could go to Black Forest, arrange an audience and ask Switcher. Presumably the changeling would know who else had been in the room when the MLA was invented, even if he hadn't been conscious for the entire thing. "I'll leave that option off the table until its been, like, five years at least with no leads," Izuku decided.