"I was six," Kuma hummed, sipping a drink and swinging her legs over the edge of the bridge. The full moon rippled on the Mississippi far below. Izuku took a seat beside her on the cool concrete. "Sort of figured it out by accident... maybe some instinct in me letting me know I was different. I put our cat in suspended animation. He wasn't hurt, just confused... I let him out right away, of course, pretty confused and frightened myself, and then my mother started screaming bloody murder, scared me, and the cat, out of our minds. Took me forever to realize she was screaming at me not for me. She grabbed me by my hair and dragged me back up the stairs, threw me in my room and told me that if she ever saw me using "a filthy demon spawn's power" ever again she'd beat me black and blue and have me thrown in prison. She never told my father, I don't think."

Chris considered for a moment before quietly replying, "my mother is a wonderful human being who promised to stand beside me no matter what. The first things she said to me when she saw what I could do was, 'that's amazing. Such a cool meta ability. Always remember there's nothing wrong with you, it's the world that's wrong.' My father didn't see it that way, of course. I never saw him again."

"Screw him, then," Izuku muttered under his breath. The other two didn't expect him to share. It wasn't mandatory. "I didn't figure mine out until I was almost ten. It might seem like a straightforward power but it's really not... My family just kind of... pretend they don't know I guess, like I won't be a meta if they look the other way hard enough."

"Heh. Yeah. That's not how anything works," Kuma said bitterly, holding her bottle upside down to drain the last drops from it.

"It's really not fair," Chris muttered. "It's not like it's anyone's fault. It's not even a fault at all."

Izuku hummed. "I can understand why non-meta humans are afraid of metas. You saw what Jest did last week in Lisbon. That was... I mean a non-meta would have needed a tactical nuke to cause that kind of damage in a five minute time frame." He was exaggerating a bit. Conventional weapons could have caused that kind of destruction, too.

"Well, I, too would need a tactical nuke to cause that kind of damage," Kuma pointed out, "and so would you and ninety-nine percent of other metas."

"I wouldn't," Chris admitted.

"Wait. Really?" Kuma asked, eyebrow raised.

Chris shrugged. "My powers are emotionally linked. I can do some pretty terrifying things when I'm really mad."

"But you wouldn't," Kuma countered.

"The point is that he could," Izuku replied, "in the same way that you'd be freaked out if someone walked through the mall with an assault rifle, even if you were sure they weren't going to start shooting people."

"Still, it's not his fault," Kuma said.

"No. It's not like he could just choose to leave his metaphor rifle at home. We don't have that luxury."

"Do you think if everyone had meta abilities that it would make things better?" Kuma mused.

Chris snorted. "Better? Different. Just take a look at the world now. Hundreds of countries, all handling all these crises in totally different ways, all developing their unique, equally horrifying problems. Japan is a dystopian nightmare, America is chaos, Portugal is both."

"I think you're being a bit unfair to Portugal," Izuku argued. "They're just having a string of bad luck but if you check out the policies, they're at least trying to be decent human beings."

"Hm," Chris hedged.

"We're all doomed aren't we?" Kuma laughed.

"No. I don't think so," Chris replied. "Things will work out in the end... although that end might be a very long time from now."

Izuku started awake from fretful sleep. Three in the morning... What did the universe have against him getting proper sleep?

"You kept your part of the deal then, didn't you?" the greenette addressed his long-departed shoulder-sitter. "Because I really didn't kill Hirano, not right away anyway, because I'm pretty sure he had to be alive for All For One to take his quirk and give it to me. So I choked him out... what then? Did I throw him in a car?" Had Hirano owned a car? Had Izuku stolen it? "Did I force him to

use this quirk on himself when he came to? Is that possible?" This was something that Izuku could test... if he decided to start using his second hand (or was it fourth hand?) meta ability. "Did I take Hirano to All For One or did I make All For One come to us somehow? What then? How did all of this happen?"

He had the pieces now, didn't he? He could feel how close he was to the complete picture. And yet it was still out of reach.

"Are you alright, Midoriya?" Shouji's voice cut through the chaotic chatter in the greenette's head. "Huh?"

"I mean, I thought the food was fine today," Shouji elaborated.

Izuku had eaten some lunch before spiraling off into a world of worry and dark fantasy. "It's... fine," Izuku sighed. Katsuki wasn't with them; he'd wolfed his food down and then disappeared. Kirishima had attempted to go with him but eventually wandered back and reclaimed his seat at the table. Clearly the blonde did not welcome company right now. "It's really fine," the greenette assured again. "I just got a bit of shocking news, that's all."

Ojiro cocked his head. "More shocking than what's going on with the HPSC?"

"Yeah, actually," Izuku answered. "The HPSC corruption scandal... didn't really surprise me." Kirishima's mouth fell open. "Didn't... surprise... wait, did you already know somehow?"

"No," Izuku shook his head immediately. "Well, I mean... I knew some things about them that were..." what would be the best word here, "problematic. I don't think I really expected--I hadn't the slightest idea about Best Jeanist's assassination and... things... but I strongly suspected that they had been covering things up and taking part in other illegal activity."

"And you didn't do anything?" Kirishima raised an eyebrow.

"What was he supposed to do, Kirishima?" Ojiro asked. "We are all still students. Insignificant students who are in no position to make accusations against the HPSC. The most he could do was keep his eyes open and bide his time. Given that he is a good and noble person, I presume he did so."

"Are you blushing because he called you a 'good and noble person?'" Shouji asked.

"Uh, yeah," Izuku ducked his head. "I mean, I kept my eyes open, but mostly I passed along any suspicions to the teachers and Nedzu."

"Who are not powerless students and could, potentially, have done something," Ojiro nodded.

"I mean, they were trying to do something," Izuku agreed, "but someone else beat them to it I guess."

Kirishima cocked his head. "I do wonder who leaked all those documents. Or what. It could have

been a group I guess."

"I'm ninety-nine percent sure it was War Dog," Izuku answered. "Uh, who?"

"She's a triple-S ranked vigilante. She broke into UA just before the joint training exercise, presumably to steal all those files she published. I saw her just before Midnight chased her back over the wall."

Shouji narrowed his eyes. "How can you be so sure, though? It could have been anyone, couldn't it? Well, anyone with suitably impressive computer skills or insider access."

Izuku opened his mouth to reply and then stopped. He'd never heard anyone, on the news or otherwise, attempt to analyze War Dog's "we children of the trees must stick together" line. He hadn't heard anyone reach his conclusion, that Best Jeanist was a former Black Forest resident... That would make him an ex-villain by default, and quite possibly an ex-villain by other definitions, too. If Izuku explained his reasoning, it would mean outing the former number three pro for his dark past. Was that really something the greenette wanted to do? Leaked files had cast shadows on a number of top one hundred heroes. It appeared that everything from psychopathic uses of excessive force to extortion to domestic abuse had been quietly swept under the rug courtesy of the HPSC. Endeavour, Grennling, Wisteria, Wash, and Mirkuo were under intense scrutiny alongside many others. Mirkuo had never denied punching out the convenience store clerk in question, insisting that anyone who tried to pet her ears in public was asking for it... and honestly Izuku agreed. That was not so bad, but the number one hero was, without a doubt, a domestic abuser. The (former) number two hero was a murderer. The number fourteen hero was a loose canon with delusions of godhood. The number twenty-six hero was an extortionist. The number thirty hero was taking bribes from drug traffickers under the table... But there wasn't a single document--in War Dog's original files which might be a biased subset or subsequent investigations liable to be more impartial--that implied anything serious about the dead number three hero. Whatever dark past life Hakamata Tsunagu might have lived (presumably under a different name) he had left it behind and been the cleanest of upstanding citizens for his entire heroics career, too clean, in fact, unwilling to look the other way when the HPSC tried to work under the table in his territory. In ten or twenty years, after this crisis of faith in the system passed (or the world ended in fire, whatever) once documentaries had been made and statues cast and the fiber hero's legacy sealed in stone, then perhaps it would be time to dig into Hakamata's past and hold him up as an example of what reformed villains could do with their lives. Allowing that information to come to light now, though, would be just another blow against the crumbling pillars of society and people would find some reason to spit on the deceased's pro's fresh grave.

"Midoriya?" Shouji asked him, shaking his shoulder gently. Ugh. The greenette was zoning out way too much these days. There were too many things going on in his head.

"Sorry. I can't tell you why I'm so sure. It's... sensitive information, and I could be wrong, still."

"You say that a lot," Kirishima crossed his arms with a frustrated huff, "that something's sensitive information, I mean, not that it's maybe wrong."

A lot of sensitive information. That was one way to put it. Izuku barked out a near hysterical laugh. "Uh... are you sure you're okay, Midoriya?" Shouji asked him yet again, patting his shoulder.

"That really doesn't look or sound okay," Ojiro nodded in agreement.

"A lot of sensitive information, ha! You don't have... you have no idea the things I've seen, the

things I know. You think I want to keep all these secrets? To never be able to talk to anyone about it? No! It sucks!"

Shouji put a arm around Izuku's shoulders. "It's okay, calm down. I know... everyone's really stressed out right now but it will be alright. We all have our parts to play. We just have to put one foot in front of the other and keep going one day at a time."

Probably good advice. Izuku sighed and put his head down on the table. "I'm having a really bad week. And I can't talk about it."

"I'm sorry," Kirishima said, shoulders hunched up around his ears, "I didn't mean to--"

"It's not your fault," Izuku said, head still on the table. This had been a long time coming. "It has nothing to do with you."

Finding the table less comfortable than expected, Izuku dragged himself upright. Ojiro's tail flicked and he chewed on his lip before leaning in to whisper. "Did you find something out? About... your missing week?"

"Yeah," Izuku replied. "But I can't talk about it. I can never talk about it. To anyone. Ever. I probably shouldn't even tell you that I can't talk about it."

"That bad?" Ojiro grimaced.

"It's not... it's not bad, necessarily," Izuku mumbled. "It's justwrong and unfair. Same as always."

"I'm sorry," the tailed boy said less quietly as Kirishima looked on with curiosity and concern. "Is there anything we can do to help?"

"You're already helping," Izuku replied. "You're not demanding I tell you. Some people would do that... and I can't, even if you demand so... thanks."

"It's always a bit disconcerting when you thank us for doing the bare minimum," Shouji muttered.

It turned out that shooting things could be quite cathartic. Snipe watched him stoically as Izuku put holes through a bullseye until the center disintegrated into one jagged chasm.

"I'll have the papers to certify ya' for handguns tomorrow," Snipe told him with a tip of his hat. "If ya' have the same skill with the automatics, we'll get that filed next week."

"Thanks," Izuku said.

"Ya' alright, kid?" the hero asked him.

"No not really," he said nonchalantly. "You see, in the last year I've been finding out, bit by bit, that absolutely everything I ever thought I knew is totally wrong. About myself... about society... about history..." he hummed. "None of my skills belong to me, even my DNA doesn't belong to

me." He shouldn't have said that. That was way too close to saying he had a stolen quirk; presumably all the requisite genetics was woven seamlessly into the preexisting DNA when All For One transferred powers. "I spent my whole life wanting to be something stupid. Being kidnapped may well have been the best thing that ever happened to me. Weird racists keep insisting Nedzu is a really hairy guy in a mouse costume." Snipe choked but covered the reaction quickly. It would be funnier if it were an exaggeration. "Heroes are villains, villains are heroes. The HPSC are murderers and Destro saved as many people as All Might."

"Hm," the hero hummed. "Whatever brought this on today, ya' can't talk about it, I assume?" "Nope," Izuku popped the 'p.'

"That's always rough," Snipe crossed his arms. "I'd say ya' get used to it, but I'd be lyin' a bit. Secrets are like termites, always eating at everything around 'em, but a lot of the time there's nothing to be done about 'em."

"Termites," Izuku mused. "That's a good analogy."

"Thought it was. Just ya' wait. Everything gets declassified someday." Izuku snorted. "Not this."

Someone was petting him. "Gah!" Izuku jerked, staring up into Katsuki's face. "What are you doing?"

"What are you doing, nerd? You've been sitting in this chair staring into space for two hours." "But... why are you petting my hair?"

Kacchan furrowed his brow. "I don't actually know... your hair's just super fluffy today--when was the last time you showered, nerd--and I just thought I should."

When had he showered last? There hadn't been any particularly strenuous exercises in heroics in the last few days which negated some of the need, but still... "What day is it?"

"Wednesday."

"Oh. Really? Are you sure it's not Tuesday?"

"Yes I'm sure it's not god damned Tuesday! Have you eaten today?"

"Breakfast and lunch," of that Izuku was sure.

"Not sure if I should trust that give that you didn't know what day it was. And you definitely skipped dinner."

"Uh... yeah. I guess."

Katsuki grabbed him by the hand, hustling him to his feet. "We'll fix that, then."

Oh dear. "N-not the spicy curry, please!"

"A bit of seasoning is not gonna' kill you, nerd."

Izuku managed to survive, although he was forced to beg for mercy repeatedly until Kacchan let him eat instant ramen rather than leftover death-fire-curry.

"What's going on with you, nerd?" Katsuki asked him as Izuku nibbled on his noodles. The common room was deserted, even the insomniacs having turned in early that evening. "I've been off... I haven't been paying that much attention," he hunched his shoulders, "other things going on." That was an understatement. "But I can tell... is this about..." even with no one nearby, he leaned forward and whispered, "Destro and the MLA again?"

"Sort of," Izuku replied quietly. "I'm... I can't talk about it." "You know you can trust me."

"I do trust you. I do, I trust you with things I've never told anyone," he whispered. "But Nedzu told me that I can't tell anyone and..." what would be the harm in telling Katsuki? Probably nothing, but compartmentalization of information was always prominent in his mind. As Arch used to point out, Bit Weasel wasn't the only mind reader out there so the fewer people who knew sensitive information the better. "I think Nedzu's probably right."

Katsuki made a very unhappy noise, opened his mouth as if to argue, closed his mouth, then opened it again to growl. "I'm tired of secrets."

"Me, too, Kacchan. I'm sorry."

"Not really your fault, is it?" the blonde muttered, although he still sounded miffed. "Go wash your hair, nerd. I'll see you tomorrow."

Since when did Katsuki feed him and send him to bed like a disgruntled parent?