Appearance wise Midoriya's side has gotten worse. He refuses to spend much time looking at it, but from what glances he's had it's become a hideously dark midnight purple.

"Are you sure I can't get you to go to the doctor?" Inko mutters worriedly, gently placing a wet rag on his forehead.

"It's not that bad, just a bit of a cold," he tells her, grinning weakly. "I'll be better in no time."

She frowns, studying his face. He knows his dark circles look worse than ever and prays she doesn't feel swayed to drag him to a clinic just from looking at them. "If you're not feeling better by Monday we'll go. You wouldn't be like this if it was just a normal cold," Inko says sternly.

He makes a soft noise of confirmation but doesn't look at her, can't look at her. He pulls the wet cloth on his forehead down to cover his eyes. He doesn't want her to see the guilt in them.

By the end of the week Midoriya's fever breaks, leaving him without a viable explanation for the bedridden state he's in after four days. Inko's pleased by the development but continues worrying given his appearance.

He tells her he's just recovering a little more slowly than usual. She has no reason not to believe him.

The weekend gives him a small reprieve from school, letting him recuperate for just a little longer without worrying about UA studying his absence too closely. It's not nearly enough time for his wounds to have even begun healing, but on the dawn of the sixth day he forces himself to get ready for school.

"If you're still not feeling well I can take you to the doctor instead," Inko calls through his bedroom door.

"I'm fine, mom!"

As much as he'd love to stay at home and continue to lay in bed, missing anymore school could look suspicious and land him in the same position going to a hospital could. Dressing himself proves to be extremely difficult. He manages to slip on his shirt and pants, but by the time they're both on he's left pale and sweaty. He decides against trying to don his jacket and tie, deeming them as far more trouble than they're worth and leaves them slung over the back of his desk chair.

He swallows down two of the pain pills Reo had left him and slips out of his bedroom while Inko's busy in the kitchen. He calls out a goodbye over his shoulder after he steps into his shoes and is out the door before she has time to see him off.

"Call me if you start feeling any worse and I'll pick you up!"

Izuku can't muster up the strength for a response as he shuts the door, locking it behind him.

The walk to the train station alone is enough to leave him in more pain than he's felt in awhile. Izuku doesn't think he's ever felt the genuine temptation to go to the hospital until that point.

Reo looks as if his soul leaves his body the moment he catches sight of the younger teen walking unsteadily towards the platform. "Izuku," he whispers as the boy boards the train. Midoriya leans against Reo's back, resting his head tiredly on top of the other's backpack. "Are you sure you're okay?" Reo asks over his shoulder, concern obvious.

"Yeah," Midoriya mumbles, "Just haven't been sleeping well, nightmares 'n stuff."

"You can always take an extra day and get some more sleep," Reo suggests, craning his neck to get a look at the boy.

Izuku rocks his head gently back and forth. "It's fine. I don't want to miss anymore school when the semester's just started," he breathes.

Pain pills only help take the edge off so much. By the time they've made it to the school gates, Midoriya is already exhausted. He wasn't lying when he told Reo he hasn't been sleeping well. Little had changed following the first few nights after the attack, every bit of sleep he's gotten has been plagued by night terrors more vivid than others he's had in the past.

Izuku wants nothing more than to go back home the moment he sets foot in the building. The crowd of students that swarming the halls is suffocating in a way Midoriya hadn't expected. He slides closer towards the wall just to get his back against something solid. Reo stays by his side, but he can't prevent the surrounding students from reminding him of a few of his more recent nightmares.

"Follow me," Reo murmurs, gently taking his hand and pulling him down emptier corridors. It takes longer to make it to his class, but Midoriya can't bring himself to find issue with the detour as the tension in his shoulders eases.

"Thank you," Izuku murmurs as they pause just outside his class.

"Are you sure you're okay to be here right now?" Reo asks him softly, lowering his voice when a group of students pass by. "It's all right to not be okay. You know that, right? The school has a therapist that you can talk to or we can find somewhere else that–"

Izuku shakes his head gently, glancing back at the door to his classroom. "You and I both know it's pointless for me to go to someone like that," he murmurs, dropping his voice lower. "I wouldn't be able to tell them about what I do, about the things that would actually be affecting me." A small smile slides across Midoriya's face. It feels like a mask, something he's doing only for show. "Besides. I'm fine."

Reo doesn't need a quirk to tell it's a lie. But, Izuku never expected him to believe it in the first place.

"Stop saying you're fine."

"If I say it enough it'll have to come true eventually," Midoriya chuckles, pain sparking up along his ribs. "Like wishing on dandelions, or shooting stars," Izuku says, holding back a pained expression. He glances at the clock on the wall behind them. "You better hurry if you don't wanna be late for class. I'll see you at lunch, yeah?"

There's deep furrows carved between Reo's brows. Midoriya's only regret is that there's nothing he can do to soothe it.

"Yeah."

Izuku deflates the moment the teen disappears around the corner, letting out a shuddered breath. He sucks in sharply, trying his best to control the pain that's been surging through him that'd only gotten worse since arriving on campus.

He doesn't want to be here.

Midoriya hadn't been expecting for 1-C to surround him with constant reminders of what happened at the USJ, but as it is too many of his classmates have taken on the faces of 1-A students. And though Mic's appearance contrasts too much from that of Aizawa's for his mind to project 1-A's homeroom teacher onto 1-C's, his brain still takes the liberty to remind him of the man through the soft frown on Yamada's lips. Midoriya is able to pick out the camouflaged expression the moment he sets foot in class.

Mic lightly scolds him for the lack of jacket and tie and Izuku can only manage some half hearted excuse about spilling his breakfast on them as thoughts of Eraserhead's condition bubble up. Reo had told him the news had him listed as alive and recovering, but Midoriya has a hard time erasing the images of the man's broken body.

He does his best not to look at anyone as he makes his way to his seat, keeping his eyes on the bright red of his shoes. He slips into his seat silently, closing his eyes for a moment of respite. They flutter back open after a moment and he stares past a few of his classmates to look out the window. The sky is bright and blue, only a few clouds decorating the horizon.

There's a tap on his shoulder from behind and Midoriya cranes his neck to look back at the violet- haired teen behind him, but the moment he catches sight of the boy his face is replaced with Aizawa's. The breath catches in his chest as purple bleeds black.

Blood drips from the man's nose.

"You said you wanted to save people, right?" Aizawa's ghost whispers to him.

"Midoriya?"

Izuku has to pry himself away from the images in his head, squeezing his eyes shut in an attempt to break the link between Shinsou and Eraserhead.

The teen has a look on his face that makes him think Shinsou hadn't fully decided if talking to him was the right decision before he'd started speaking. "You okay?" he asks, quickly looking away after making brief eye contact. "Your friend told me you were pretty sick."

I'm not okay, Izuku thinks, and the honesty of the thought surprises him.

"I'm fine," he chokes out instead, "Just coming off a bit of a fever."

The boy looks sceptical at his response but drops the subject when Yamada calls for the start of homeroom.

Midoriya can't say that he pays attention to most of the day's lessons. He sits out during their P.E. class, but can't prevent himself from staring at their substitute teacher. His classmates play a few rounds of Capture the Flag and what time Izuku should have spent resting he spends keeping himself from mentally spiraling instead.

Lunch passes in too much of a haze for him to remember much, only that Reo gets him something from the lunchline. He barely remembers having eaten whatever it was.

Today's worn on him more than he thought it would.

English ends up being the only exception to his lack of attention, Yamada's voice too hard for even his nightmarish thoughts to drown out. And while the man's voice keeps his mind from more unsavory thoughts, it does nothing to curb the exhaustion he's been fighting since he woke up this morning. He uses the arm on his good side as a pillow and leaves his other to rest in his lap as he lets the man's voice lull him into some well needed sleep.

Hizashi watches the boy fall asleep from the corner of his eye as he continues teaching. Something was obviously wrong with the kid, but the man simply boils it down to the reason he's been absent.

He lets him sleep, if only this once.

In Midoriya's newest dreamscape Aizawa and Eri stand before him. They're covered in blood and dirt and bandages. "Why didn't you save me?" Aizawa asks him coldly, his twisted and mangled hand tightening around Eri's. "Why didn't you save us?"

Their eyes are matching shades of crimson.

The hero reaches out towards him, grabbing him tightly by the shoulder. "Deku."

The action throws him violently into wakefulness as he jerks awake in his seat, phantom fingers still gripping him. But, the harsh hand from his dream turns out to be a gentle one on his shoulder.

"Midoriya?" Yamada asks from beside him, "You alright little listener?"

Izuku carefully pulls himself into a proper sitting position. His eyes are dilated in fear and pain and cheeks flush from embarrassment. "S-Sorry for falling asleep," he murmurs.

"Midoriya, you're crying," the teacher tells him gently.

He blinks tiredly at the man, bringing a hand up to swipe at his cheek.

"Why don't you talk with me after class?"

Izuku can't bring himself to form an actual response and simply nods, quickly wiping away the evidence of his nightmares before they have a chance to dry there.

He refuses to make eye contact with any of his classmates, ignoring Shinsou's worried stare on his back.

'After class' ends up being five minutes later, a majority of the class had already been in the middle of packing up when he'd been woken up. Shinsou sends him a concerned look before leaving, but doesn't say anything, only sending him a small nod before disappearing out the door with everyone else. Izuku hoists his backpack up onto his left shoulder, doing his best to keep it away from his injured ribs.

Midoriya approaches the teacher nervously. He knows how he looks, knows his hair is laden with grease and dirt and probably a smattering of blood considering he hasn't been able to bathe properly since the USJ. He's only wearing half of his uniform and he's sure his dark circles look almost bruise like against his blanched skin.

He's not even sure where to start about the grim look that's made its home in his eyes.

He catches sight of the man's canary yellow hair and realizes that is now familiar for a reason other than his role as 1-C's teacher. Yamada Sensei was there, he reminds himself as he stops in front of the podium. He took Aizawa from my arms. He knows.

The boy finds a sort of solace in the thought.

"Is there anything you want to talk about?" Mic's voice is surprisingly quiet for his usually rowdy personality. "Your other teachers agreed that you looked kind of out of it today. You even fell asleep in class." The man raises his hand and rests the back of it against the boy's forehead. Izuku tries and fails not to flinch at the contact, but if Mic notices he doesn't say anything. "If you're still sick then you should be at home resting, there's no need for you to push yourself." The man gives him a small smile as he lowers his hand. "The fact that you're even here in this state tells me you're a studious kid. And with your test scores from the entrance exam there shouldn't be any need for you to worry about falling behind."

Izuku weakly tugs his lips up in a smile, one that he's worried is tinged with the pain that's currently flaring through his ribs. "Sorry Sensei, I just haven't been sleeping well is all. Nothing to be too concerned about."

"Are they nightmares?"

Izuku tenses, but keeps his smile. "Just a few."

Mic nods solemnly, understanding glittering in his eyes. "The school does have a counselor, Midoriya. And any of the teachers here are more than willing to talk with you if you need it, myself included."

Midoriya feels his heart clench uncomfortably in his chest. You're not at all like the teachers at Aldera. "Thank you..." he says, looking away. "If I need to I'll know where to go."

Mic only smiles softly, sadly, down at him.

Reo's waiting in the hall when he comes out. He pushes himself away from the wall and holds his

hand out for Midoriya's bag. Izuku hesitates for only a moment before gladly handing it off. "You look worse than you did at lunch," Reo says as they set off towards the school's gates. "There's a lot of reminders here," Midoriya whispers instead, forcing himself not to do a double

take when he spies a girl with short brown hair from the corner of his eye. "Ghosts of memories." Reo glances at him worriedly. "I'm always here to talk, Izuku."

The boy sighs softly, "I know."

Midoriya's just boarded the train home when he remembers what Chee Sensei had asked of him last week. He curses, drawing the eyes of several people sliding past him as Reo finds them a free spot to sit. The urge to tug at his hair is strong, but he knows his ribs would suffer for it if he tried.

"What is it?" Tsukauchi asks.

"I'm supposed to help Chee Sensei train some new kids at the dojo today," Midoriya gunts, gingerly sitting down.

Reo studies him for a moment. "Can't you just tell her you're still sick?" the teen asks, "With the way you talk about her I doubt she'd be angry."

I'll just be teaching them the basics, Izuku thinks. It's not like I'll be sparring. He huffs defeatedly, "You're right. But, I won't be doing any actual fighting so I should be fine. I'll just be helping her out for a bit."

Reo reluctantly passes his backpack back to him. "Don't be afraid to tell her you're not feeling well. You don't know what being around people sparring could trigger so please be careful, Izuku."

"Let's pray on some shooting stars, yeah? Hope that everything will be okay." Midoriya says, smiling weakly as the scenery outside begins to blur.

Grinning teeth flash through the darkness. "Weren't you the one who once said dreaming got you nowhere?"

After parting ways with Reo, Midoriya starts the painful journey to the dojo for the first time in over almost a week. The last thing Midoriya wants to do is owe Giran anymore favors, but if today was any hint into what awaited him he didn't see much of a choice in the matter. He knows Giran is in contact with at least one doctor and if he knows about Piper's injuries, which Midoriya expects from him, he should already have a doctor for him in mind. Izuku doesn't think he can handle many more days like this one.

I'll offer as much money as I can but... there's no guarantee it'll be enough. He'll know I'm in a tight spot.

By the time he gets to the dojo he feels like death and doubts he'll even hesitate to call Giran the moment he gets home. He debates just turning around and leaving now, desperate for his body to feel some bit of normalcy. But, he can already see the new students lined up through the building's front windows and Hirano waves at him eagerly from inside.

He hadn't brought any extra clothes with him today but he knows there's a stash of forgotten items in the back and makes a beeline to rummage through it. He manages to find a long sleeve shirt that will cover the bruises littering his arms and the bandage on his neck. Granted he's forced to slip into a pair of basketball shorts and therefor can't cover all the wounds he'd gotten. He can only

pray that any exposed injuries can be passed off as ones sustained from sparring.

He's sweaty and pale and in an immense amount of pain by the time he manages to strip out of his uniform and pull on the other clothes. His side is on fire and he has to grab onto the sink's edge just to calm the nausea that threatens to bring up his meager lunch.

The mirror offers him the reflection of a cadaver.

Anyone who's been in the dojo long enough is used to seeing Midoriya in various states of hurt or exhaustion after nearly a year of vigilantism, but he's certain that his appearance now far surpasses anything they've seen of him before. He gets a few concerned looks when he comes out of the bathroom and the new students lined up in front of Chee Sensei cast him wary glances. The woman herself sends him troubled looks as she speaks.

When Ji-woo is done giving them her opening speech she waves him over. For once she doesn't ask after his substandard appearance, simply sending him a disapproving look before introducing him to the kids.

"This is Midoriya Izuku. He'll be running you through some of the basics for today. Follow his instructions like you would mine."

"Yes, Sensei!"

There's a variety of ages, the oldest of whom looks to be around Midoriya's age and the youngest who seems no less than ten. There's six of them, an even number, which means he won't have to partner with anyone for group activities. It's such a small thing, but in the state he's in it's an unspoken miracle.

He runs them through a simple set of drills, showing them muay thai march and how to correctly throw a punch. Which, if he's being honest, had sent black curling at the edges of his vision when one of his ribs shifted during the demonstration. Midoriya walks slowly around the group, correcting stances and forms as he goes and by the end of it most of the new students look tired, though none can match the pallor Izuku's taken.

Abe comes bounding up to him at the end of the session. He's sweaty, having just finished a sparring match of his own, but there's a wicked glint in his eye.

Abe is a boy with a mutation type quirk that'd come to the dojo a few years after Midoriya. He gives off a vibe similar to the one Tanaka had when Ji-Woo still taught him. Abe wasn't nearly as good at fighting as the other teen, but the similarity of their attitudes have always made Izuku wary of making friends with him.

His hair's an ashy blue, and tied back in the smallest ponytail Midoriya's ever seen. Wolf-like ears twitch expectantly at the top of his head. "Midoriya, you up for a round? How about we show the newbies how it's done?" There's a shit eating grin crawling across Abe's face, canines glinting as a murmur of excitement goes through the group of kids in front of him.

Izuku sighs, dull green eyes locking with Abe's blue ones. "I'm not feeling up to it today. Ask Hirano or Gamon if you're that pent up."

"Don't tell me Sensei's star pupil is scared?" The shit eating grin only grows, ears pricking forwards.

Izuku closes his eyes, sighing. It's obvious that Abe is trying to take advantage of the state Midoriya's in, he'd felt eyes boring into him several times throughout the last hour and looking

back it seems clear that it'd been Abe's doing. Under normal circumstances the younger teen wouldn't stand a chance against the more experienced Midoriya, but as it is Izuku can feel his legs tremble minutely beneath him. Not to mention the strong feeling he has that his fever's returned in full force after his rib had shifted earlier. Izuku pinches at the bridge of his nose, face twisting with pain in an expression that Abe mistakes for irritation.

His grin rises, his smile wolf-like in every sense of the word. "Get ready!"

Midoriya's eyes snap open immediately, taking in Abe's form as he winds his leg up to throw a kick. Izuku wants to do nothing more than humiliate the boy in front of the very kids that he'd sought to impress.

He knows what to do, how to do it, knows how to take down the smug bastard in one fell swoop. But any pain medicine in his system had worn off long before lunch and his mind tells him before his body does that his limbs aren't going anywhere fast enough.

Abe's foot collides with the ribs opposite his injured ones. There's a white hot flash of pain as the impact connects, sending shockwaves through his broken ribs and forcing him to his knees.

After that, there's nothing.

He's not out that long, but when Midoriya comes to Chee Sensei is hovering over his injured side, the hem of his shirt clenched tightly in her hand. The woman catches his half conscious gaze and returns it with a look somehow darker than the black of her eyes.

"What the hell did you do?"

He notes that her freckles are brighter than he's ever seen them before.

He can't find the strength to respond to the question, doesn't know what he'd say even if he could. He lets his eyes fall shut instead as his exhaustion catches up with him.

He wakes up again briefly, this time in a car that Chee Sensei's driving. She doesn't spare him a glance before the engine's rumbling puts him back to sleep.

The third time he wakes up it's in a hospital.