The greenette must have been mumbling his vague tirades against his kidnapper--or perhaps tempter would be a better word--more loudly than he thought because Tetsutetsu asked him, "huh?"
"I, sorry," Izuku tried to wave it off, "just talking to myself. Sorry about... about getting caught I, well, I have... history that makes me bad around possession quirks," he admitted.
Tetsutetsu shrugged. "Well, I don't but I got caught anyway, even after seeing how he played you to get a response."
Ashido joined their group alongside Monoma and Awase. "Hey guys!" Ashido waved cheerfully. "You all alright?"
"We're fine," Tetsutetsu said. Monoma handed Izuku his handcuffs back. "How'd you get these open?" Izuku asked. He still had his key.
"Ashido can pick locks, turns out," Monoma answered.
"Or melt them," Ashido grinned viciously.
"Huh, cool. It's a good skill to have," Izuku nodded to her, pocketing his cuffs. They trudged--even the uninjured parties were tired--back to the rest of the classes.
"Hey nerd, you alright?" Kacchan asked him, materializing out of nowhere and throwing an arm around his shoulder.
It was impossible to mesh them, this Kacchan and the Bakugou Katsuki who had told him to jump off a roof more than a year ago. They didn't seem like the same person, not even a bit. And Izuku... Izuku didn't seem like the same person, either. He could not even imagine doing any of those things he had just seen. He couldn't imagine even considering throwing his life or his freedom away like that or... how could some foolish version of Midoriya Izuku have agreed to that offer? How could he have cared so little for himself, so little for his place in the world, the effect he would have on others by leaving it? How could he be that... not selfish, blind? Was that the word?
He wasn't that person anymore... and he wasn't that person anymore precisely because he had been that person. Only after losing his freedom and nearly losing his life had he truly come to value them for the treasures they were. His shoulder-sitter had told him it would be that way, hadn't they? Damn it, they were right... but they still didn't keep their part of the deal. Hirano didn't have to die like that.
Or... did he? The man was HPSC. If... if Izuku had gone to the police, what would have happened? Would it have been covered up? Would Hirano have been allowed to walk away free while his victims languished on? His possessor could have tied the monstrous man up and let him for Isomorph, though. That was an option that wouldn't have involved Izuku being used to kill someone... Isomorph might have just had Hirano executed (did they do that?) but still, that would have at least paid lip-service to their agreement.
I t was Izuku's fault. He spent so long feeling furious and violated by this theft of his body and mind except it wasn't a theft at all. He'd merely been borrowed, and with his express consent, too. He wouldn't have agreed if he'd really understood, if he'd comprehended the implications, if he hadn't been so young and sad and naive. He'd agreed to be hurt. Agreed to hurt his mother. Agreed to hurt Katsuki...
Kacchan shook the greenette's shoulder. Izuku must have been zoning out. "I'm alright," he replied. War Dog's bite had ceased to ache. His worst injury was a bruise. Everything was fine. Sort of.
The final match of the joint training was a draw. Izuku's team had captured Monoma and their opponents had captured Yanagi in the final seconds before the clock ran out. The greenette would never know how that happened because he did not pay any attention to the post-exercise assessment. As Vlad King and Aizawa critiqued the fight, Izuku heard every fourth word. It was like listening to a heavy metal song in an ancient Mayan language.
As the class began to disperse, Aizawa called for him and the greenette remained. Hopefully this wouldn't take long. Shinsou had also been asked to stay, so it seemed clear what the issue was. Izuku stood on one side of Aizawa, the brainwasher on the other. Occasionally they shot each other awkward, guilty glances. Neither wanted to be here. Izuku wanted to be in his bed, either screaming or crying into a pillow. Shinsou probably wanted something similar.
"Was that what you were trying to do to Midoriya, Shinsou?" Aizawa asked.
The brainwasher shook his head. "Not at all... s-sorry, Midoriya," he mumbled the last two words. "It was a valid tactic," Izuku muttered back.
"What happened?" Aizawa asked the greenettte.
Izuku rubbed War Dog's bite without thinking about it and, after considering his reply, said, "had a weird dream... it didn't make any sense, though, and I'd rather not talk about it." It wasn't really a lie; it didn't make sense for him to have done the things he did back then and he certainly didn't want to say more in front of Shinsou.
"Alright. Shinsou, wait for me in the staff room. I'll meet you there in a few minutes." Aizawa dismissed the purple haired student.
Shinsou turned to leave. "Sorry about that, Midoriya," he mumbled again.
After Shinsou left hearing range, Aizawa asked Izuku, "what exactly did you see?"
"Some of the day I went missing I think," Izuku admitted. Hedge. Lie as little as possible; substitute in half truths. He couldn't admit this, ever. The fact that he was a willing--all be it hopelessly manipulated--participant in his own abduction could never come to light. This would be far worse than admitting he got a bunch of memories from MLA soldiers. He might not be criminally liable given that they couldn't prove that it was really Izuku, uninfluenced by mental coercion, that consented but never the less he could never ever let anyone know this truth. "It was confusing, nothing helpful... vague," indeed, most of his recollection of morning classes and passing periods was as vague as wisps of smoke. That the important bits were clear as quartz crystal need not be said.
"Anything useful at all?" Aizawa asked.
"I felt like someone was watching me, sitting on my shoulder, but I still mostly felt like myself I think? Like I said, vague."
Aizawa nodded. "Thank you." There was a long pause before his teacher continued hesitantly. "Do you think Shinsou might be able to help you remember more?"
Izuku jolted and gulped. He hadn't considered that. Yeah, probably. Would Izuku consent to have his willpower stolen from him yet again? Never. Moreover, who knew what they might be able to uncover from him if the brainwasher's quirk ever worked on him properly? What might he say while unguarded like that? "Probably, but I would never consent to have a quirk like that used on me." Never again.
Aizawa sighed. "We'll see how you feel in a month or two, problem child. Try to get used to the idea. This could be the information we need."
Izuku sighed. "Why does it even matter anymore? I'm... I just... I said I'd rather not know and I really mean it."
"It's not about you anymore," Aizawa replied. "You're just one picture and a few lines on the big conspiracy board in Nedzu's office."
"Wait, really?" Nedzu had a conspiracy board?
"Yeah. I can't tell you what the other lines and pictures are, but I'm sure you can guess." Hirano. All For One. War Dog. The HPSC. Isomorph... yeah, Izuku could guess.
"Can I head back to the dorms now?" Izuku asked, stifling a yawn. "I'm way more tired than I should be..."
Aizawa seemed to find that last detail concerning but said, "alright. Keep an eye on yourself the next few days. If there's anything even a bit off with your health, be that mental or physical, I want
you to go see Recovery Girl promptly, got it?"
"Yes," Izuku agreed readily. He was probably fine... but clearly his head did weird things when exposed to mental manipulation quirks. He might be straight-up permanently brain damaged from the clash of conflicting mind control powers--his possessor's and War Dog's. It might explain why his bite scar ached when he saw intense memories. An MRI would probably reveal the damage but, honestly, why would he want to know about that? It would have been nice if Izuku hadn't ever learned about this lastest bombshell, either. The shoulder-sitter was right. It would have been way more convenient if Izuku never remembered anything more than how throw darts like a champion. Being a collaborator was so much worse than being a hapless victim.
Izuku slunk into the dorms. "Nerd?" Katsuki called to him.
The greenette waved. "I'm fine, Kacchan. See you later." Katsuki made a concerned huffing noise but didn't follow. He wasn't the same, this Kacchan... Izuku wasn't the same, either... they might as well have been totally different people during their last year of junior high school. He couldn't be angry with Kacchan for his unwitting part in this tangled web; that would be blatantly unfair and no part of him, intellectual or emotional, considered it acceptable. Would it be fair to hold himself accountable, then? To berate himself now for what he had done in the past? Didn't seem very fair... but forgiving himself was always harder than forgiving other people.
He lay on his bed and stared at the ceiling. Occasionally he gave his notebooks a half-hearted glance. This... he would write down some of the details in code, but not the heart of the matter, the smoking gun.
He looped through his new (old) memories again and again, not really processing them, hardly considering the significance, but unable to stop his mind from playing the images over and over like a broken record machine. "Stupid, Izuku," he hissed, "stupid."
He didn't get much sleep that night, but he was so used to these psyche-cracking events that he was more or less functional in the morning and able to sleep the next night. How convenient. Trauma was like alcohol, something you could build up a tolerance to.
"Mutually assured destruction is very twentieth century. I have a lot to lose, so do you, so let's skip the posturing and--ashes for ashes, blood for blood--calm down, calm down... this wasn't the deal and it isn't the clever thing to do. She'd be ashamed--you've had a rough time of it, huh? The effects are never going to fade, you know--"
Finals were finally over. For him at least. Those poor, tortured souls who still had tests to take... Izuku yawned as he strolled back to his dorm, setting off across the bridge and leisurely watching the river, swollen with spring melt, roll by. This bridge was far enough from the dams that the water below looked calm, although Izuku wouldn't bet his life on that calmness extending beneath the surface. The morning clouds had long since burned away. What a beautiful day to not have to study anymore.
Chris appeared out of nowhere sprinting in the opposite direction, coat tucked under one arm, calculator gripped tightly in the opposite hand, and messenger bag streaming out behind him like an imitation-leather tail. His hair streamed out behind him, too, rebellious strands escaping his ponytail to fly free in the wind. "I have back-to-back finals on opposite sides of campus!" Chris yelled as he continued on his way. He moved so fast his tone was distorted by the Doppler shift.
Izuku giggled. "That sucks!" he yelled.
Perhaps Izuku sounded more amused than he intended, because Chris's distant voice called back, "you're a sadist you know that?"
No he wasn't a sadist. It really did suck and Chris had his sympathy, but he just looked so funny with that messenger back flying after him like a battle flag...
Izuku woke leisurely from what had been a short and wonderfully pleasant dream. No war. No death. No selling his soul for a chance to be a hero. Just... shenanigans. Silliness. There were some ominous voices at the beginning, before he found himself in America in the distant past, but that was par for the course.
Even better, Izuku didn't have to get up. Once in a blue moon UA had an academic holiday. Today was one of them. He reached for the comic on his bedside table--he was finally getting around to reading the series Aoki had unwittingly introduced him to during the Hassaikai raid--and tuned out the rest or reality.
He was vaguely aware of commotion in the dorm, voices. Knocking. He should be able to ignore that whatever it was.
There was a harsh rap on his door. "Yes?" Izuku asked, lacing the short word with as much displeasure as possible. Why would someone bother him on their day off?
"Get out here, nerd, we're going shopping!" Kacchan yelled at him. "What?" Izuku yelled back, putting his comic down reluctantly.
"We're going shopping, all of 1-A and 1-B. It's like a treat before the holidays I guess? Pretty much a surprise field trip. Someone said something about people constantly running out of stuff... not sure what that was about, but I guess that might be part of the reason? Who cares, though. It's a chance to go somewhere. Get the hell out here!"
Izuku had planned to do any necessary holiday shopping online. "Do I have to?" the greenette whined.
"Well, no," Ojiro butted in, "but it would be nice if you came along."
"The rest of us are going." That was Shouji. How many people were standing outside his door? Well... he could read when they got back and it might be fun to get off campus for a while.
"Fine," Izuku agreed.
There were four chaperones for the two heroics classes. Four chaperones meant four groups, and everyone was required to remain within sight of a teacher. UA was certainly taking no security risks. That was understandable given everything that had happened that nightmarish year.
Izuku, who had no specific purchases in mind, followed Ojiro, Shouji and Kacchan into Midnight's group, the lot of them heading for a department-style clothing store. "I need a new pair of sweatpants," Ojiro muttered.
"I need a new shirt," Shouji said, exchanging a glance with Ojiro. "That's probably not going to happen at a store like this..."
Ojiro shrugged. "I can modify my clothing as necessary myself. It's not such a big deal." "You can sew?" Kacchan asked, raising an eyebrow.
"It's an extremely useful talent for people with mutations," Ojiro shot back more than a tad defensively.
"Didn't meant there was anything wrong with it," Katsuki shook his head. "And, maybe if I could sew then I wouldn't have so many holes in my clothes."
"I cannot sew," Shouji replied, "and even if I could..."
"Modifying clothes for your use would be pretty hard," Ojiro agreed.
Izuku's three friends disappeared, engulfed by the specialty clothing racks. Midnight swiveled like a sentry turret, keeping a watchful eye on everyone.
"Uh... Midoriya?" a nervous voice inquired.
Izuku turned to find a very abashed Monoma. The student was rubbing his hair and glancing repeatedly from side to side. Right... this problem. Izuku had almost forgotten about it. Monoma knew he was quirkless now. Being outed as quirkless would really suck. Would Monoma be willing to keep quiet about something like that? Could Izuku bribe him somehow?
"Do you need something?" Izuku asked.
"About the other day," Monoma said quietly. "That was... weird."
"What part of it?" The blonde probably meant Izuku's lack of quirk, but he might also be referring to Izuku fainting when Shinsou's power took hold.
"I mean... I've never sensed anything like that before," Monoma admitted.
Really? Well, the quirkless were increasingly rare, but many people had an older relative who was quirkless, although that older relative might be a great uncle. "Huh. Really?"
"I mean... yeah. I don't even... know what to make of it. What do you... what is your quirk?" Izuku blinked. "Huh. You can't tell? I thought you could..." Monoma's quirk couldn't identify
that he was quirkless. Now that was interesting. Or maybe Monoma's power could identify quirklessness but the copy cat hadn't managed to touch Izuku for long enough to get a good read? Either way, it was immensely convenient. "It's best for me if people don't know about what I can do."
"Oh..." Monoma said, brow furrowed in confusion. "But--"
At that moment, Shouji came prancing through the clothes racks, a shirt held triumphantly in hand. "It fits!" He declared. Izuku had never heard his friend so pleased. In the background, the greenette was vaguely aware of Todoroki walking by with a pair of tie-dye bell-bottoms and a kilt. Presumably those were the strangest items of clothing in the store.
"You found one!" Izuku celebrated with Shouji, wrenching his eyes away from Todoroki's maniacal grin.
"I found it for him," Kacchan preened as he returned to the group. Ojiro was empty handed but didn't seem concerned.
"Alright everyone, finish up. We're going to hit a grocery chain next," Midnight called to them, voice momentarily drowning out the muzak from the ceiling speakers.
Monoma drifted away and the greenette, exceedingly pleased with his burst of good luck in relation to the copy cat, orbited Shouji as the multi-armed student waited to pay for his treasure. "I ran out of a bunch of spices last week," Kacchan mused. "Hope I can get 'em at our next stop without paying blood."
"This chain is not particularly expensive," Ojiro assured him.
"Shop there often?"
"No, I just have a good memory for that sort of thing," the tailed student replied.
Two hours later, the four groups merged back into one in order to discuss the day's finale. Izuku for one would be perfectly happy to go back to UA, take out his comic and spend the rest of the day in a fantasy world, but it seemed thirty-seven of forty students present wanted to see a new, blockbuster movie "Firebird Skies," before heading home and the teachers were inclined to let them.
Izuku, upon reading the synopsis, groaned. It was set during the MLA War. "This is going to be torture," he hissed. Kacchan was definitely laughing at him. "How could you vote for this? Traitor!" the greenette accused his best friend. Katsuki just laughed harder.
"It looks good, nerd. The reviews are all excellent."
"But it's all going to be wrong," Izuku complained loudly enough to attract a teacher's attention.
"Yeah," Midnight agreed, "it's always hard to go see these kinds of movies when you're a history buff. The historical accuracy... will definitely leave something to be desired."
"Accuracy isn't what I look for in an action flick, honestly," Present Mic replied.
"Could the three of us who want to go home just go? Or one teacher take us back?" Izuku asked. The others who wished to leave, Awase and Yaoyorozu, nodded in agreement.
"No. That would leave the main group with too few chaperones," Aizawa shook his head. "One
teacher per ten students."
"Should've stayed in bed," Izuku muttered.
Kirishima gave Izuku a funny look. "Is this really such a problem for you?" "Yes!" Izuku snapped.
"It'll be fine, nerd. Promise," Kacchan threw an arm around his shoulders. The explosive student was doing that a lot lately, although this time it was purely for the purpose of steering Izuku into the theater. "Just watch the pretty explosions and pretend it's awesome fantasy rather than crappy historical fiction."
"Grrr," Izuku grit his teeth.
"Did he just growl?" Ashido asked. Someone else muttered, "cryptid has claws," under their breath and if Izuku ever found out who that was, they would be shown no mercy next time the class sparred.
"Wrong," Izuku hissed in Katsuki's ear thirty seconds into the opening credits. "That's not how... that doesn't even have anything to do with... there wasn't even a battle in this city."
"Shhh..."
"He would never have done that. Why would they torture someone for information when then have Bit Weasel? Even if they didn't have her--"
"Quiet, nerd."
"Are they seriously going to pretend she committed suicide in custody rather than being shot and brutally dismembered?"
"Ugh, Izuku, just have my popcorn then."
"That is so wrong I don't even know where to start. How dare they--"
"You're killing me, nerd. I gave you my popcorn, what more do you want to let me enjoy the movie?"
"Kacchan, if I have to suffer, you have to suffer with me. Although the popcorn was a nice thought."