The other heroes find them eventually, Snipe blasting another hole through the wall just in time for the last of the drug in Lemillion's system to fade. He phases back into the main room— a panicked look on his face that melts into relief as the room floods with heroes and the teen directs some to where Nighteye's still trapped.
No one mentions Piper.
The anxiety pulses like a molten core of lead in his chest, heavy, near suffocating. But it allows him to keep Eri in his arms for longer, only passing her off to the waiting paramedics once they've made their way outside. He can tell Aizawa and Naomasa have questions, can see it in their furtive gazes, quick, fleeting.
Aizawa sticks close to Eri's side as Izuku's swept away by another medic, injuries bandaged and checked over, a warning to keep weight off his ankle till he gets it looked at properly.
And still, there is no word of Piper.
He can see Nighteye and Lemillion being fussed over in the back of their own ambulances, Centipeder watching over them with a nervous clicking of mandibles. Naomasa wanders the crowd, barking orders left and right as what remains of the Shie Hassaikai are being piled into armored vehicles. Overhaul is among them, hands bound within bulky quirk suppressant cuffs, unconscious where he dangles unceremoniously over Snipe's shoulder before he's dumped in the back of a van and further restrained.
This is the last he sees of the villain as the door slams shut behind him.
There's surprisingly little relief in the sight. Even with Eri safe, even with everyone alive and Overhaul captured, there's still an awful gnawing in his gut. Because Naomasa knows, and so does Aizawa.
Aizawa doesn't know what to think of the boy in the ambulance across from him. Everything feels stilted and off-balance because this is Piper. The kid he'd fought alongside at the USJ, the kid he'd trusted to protect his students, the kid he'd thought died trying to protect him. Who had carried him up those hundred steps, even in his injured state.
Midoriya Izuku.
Pied Piper.
He'd been drawing comparisons between the two since the sports festival, and maybe, if Piper's death hadn't been announced, he would've realized. The kid's fighting style, his use of a staff, the scars, the instincts. But hindsight is always 20/20.
Back in that alley with Stain, Piper was who he'd seen in that dark silhouette, the glint of a metal staff, the hunched rage and determination of a child too young. Then he'd started training Midoriya, and the lines between the two had further blurred unwillingly. Subconsciously he'd known, consciously he berated himself for the constant comparisons— for the hope. Because Piper was gone; because Midoriya deserved to be seen as more than the shadow of a dead vigilante.
Piper is quirkless. Piper is alive. Piper is Midoriya Izuku. The revelation keeps catching him off guard.
He holds Eri's hand in his as the EMTs look them over, a reassuring presence at her side–– though officially there to keep any involuntary quirk usage at bay. It's a good excuse to keep her close if nothing else.
She's a distraction from Midoriya and a reminder of everything Piper had done to get her back.
Naomasa keeps himself busy in the aftermath, directing officers and heroes and trying not to find Midoriya within the crowd. Because there'd been a body—laid across the sands of Dagobah. Naomasa had seen worse in his time as a detective, but none had impacted him quite like the state Piper's had been in. The sight—the smell. Because that'd been a kid, his kid. One that'd left him food as an apology, one that'd entrusted him with Overhaul's case, one whose biggest regret was not saving the girl they'd just carried out in their arms.
But Pied Piper was not dead.
And Midoriya Izuku was living proof of it.
'No one can know,' he'd pleaded. His eyes wide with a desperate fear. He hadn't even tried to hide it, hadn't tried to lie even though Nao was likely to have let him.
Naomasa keeps himself busy, because if he doesn't he feels like he'll burn up. The itch under his skin is overwhelming, but he can't let it be.
He shoos reporters off, orders a wider perimeter to be set, snaps at an agent from the hero commission, all to delay the inevitable. He holds his shoulders back, his spine straight— a calm exterior to shield the turbulent sea beneath. Aizawa accompanies Eri to the hospital and Naomasa can't delay following them for long, even while he can feel Midoriya's gaze burn into his back.
He braces himself with a breath, turning to where the boy lingers on the sidelines, favoring one leg, waiting for orders—waiting for an arrest.
Midoriya flinches when he spots the detective's approach, but he holds himself well, falling back onto something distinctly Piper-like to keep him steady. Naomasa can see the shift in demeanor, can recognize it now that he knows. The green of his eyes, the red of the hinomaru on his chest. He wonders why he hadn't seen it before; he thinks maybe he had and just hadn't believed it.
"Eraser and Eri are headed to the hospital," Naomasa starts, voice rougher than he anticipates, thick with emotion. He clears his throat, hoping to dispell it. It doesn't. "I'll be following them in a moment. Nighteye offered to take you back with Lemillion."
Naomasa can see the confusion scrawled across Midoriya's face. Something like grief flickers to life in the detective's chest–– heavy and oppressive and everything he's been trying to bury since they'd crawled their way back to the surface.
"Go home," Nao murmurs, tone slipping into something softer, though still heavy with emotion, "Get some rest," they're not the reassurances he wants to offer Midoriya. It isn't the promise that he'll be safe and that everything will be okay because he doesn't want to lie to the boy. He holds his tongue, saves his reassurances for once he's certain—once he's sure.
Midoriya's mouth parts with unspoken words before closing again. There's something scared in his eyes, something hurt. He tries again. "I'm sorry," his voice comes out half-strangled before he clears his throat, starting again. "You were the last person I wanted to hurt like that."
There's no plee in the words, Naomasa gets no sense that this is some final, desperate attempt to get him to keep Piper's secret.
This is merely a confession.
"There were other things I could've done—" Midoriya swallows harshly, "but nothing else... it was..." The boy can't find the words for it, but Naomasa knows. Because there's no reason to look for someone you've already buried.
A weak smile pushes at Naomasa's lips. "I'm just glad you're safe." And if that isn't the understatement of a lifetime. He keeps his hands to himself, even as he feels the urge to bring the boy into another hug when he watches his expression break. Something deeper than sadness flickering in his face.
"If anyone was going to find out," Midoriya whispers, "I'm glad it was you."
Izuku doesn't quite know what to do with himself. They return to UA to shower and change, Recovery Girl healing all the injuries they had accrued in the fight with a soft-hearted sort of scowl on her face. And then he's simply... sent home with little fanfare.
His mother makes dinner and puts on a movie while they eat and it'd be peaceful if he wasn't waiting for something to happen— for the other shoe to drop.
It never does.
In the morning, he gets ready for school. Slipping out long before Inko was set to wake, hours before he's set to meet Reo at the train station for school. Not even the sun is up yet to greet his arrival. He hasn't been to Dagobah since the last time he visited.
The original memorial for Piper had broken down over time, food offerings taken by wildlife, sidewalks cleared of any remaining trash, there'd been only a handful of ribbons the last time he'd come. But there's more now, dozens , all stubbornly tied to the fence, fluttering gently alongside the old.
Just beyond the sidewalk is the beach below, the actual beach now. The dumping grounds he'd once walked between have been cleared and he can see unhindered where the sand meets the sea. There's a few larger objects further down the beach and he can see a small group of people struggling to haul them off from where he stands as the sun just begins to rise. Hints of the coming dawn lighting up the horizon. There's a couple on the boardwalk, watching the waves, chattering idly, bits of laughter catching on the breeze.
Shinsou had told him there'd been some sort of cleanup project started up in honor of Piper. But Izuku hadn't been sure how long it would last given the insurmountable amount of trash he remembers had been here.
He makes his way down to the sand, staring out over the open ocean. Listening to the gentle lapping of waves, the drifting murmur of conversations.
The sand beneath his shoes feels comforting in a way, like a homecoming in the oddest sense of the word. He'd trained here once, fighting invisible enemies in the dying light of day, a discarded pipe as his weapon. He'd stood here once, reading over tear-stained paper beneath the orange glow of street lamps. It feels fitting that he finds himself here, perhaps for the last time given the circumstances.
He hadn't heard anything since he'd parted ways with Aizawa and Naomasa the day before. No task forces had been sent to raid their apartment overnight, no officers had arrived to take him into custody. He wasn't sure what was happening; he wasn't sure why nothing was happening. They knew now—who he was, what he'd done. Why let him leave at all yesterday?
It'd be easy to compare his DNA to the body he'd left behind. So what were they waiting for? Did they want a public arrest? Did they want to send some sort of message that even death would not prevent justice?
There's a cheer from the group to his right as they successfully load an old fridge into the back of a truck. And despite the anxiety threatening to overtake him, Izuku feels a smile twitching at his lips. Hirano is apparently among the gathered group, he recognizes her voice even from this distance. The girl gives the group a playful flex, showing off with a laugh. It's not long before their eyes fall on his approaching form and Hirano's smile turns into something blinding. "Midoriya!" She waves excitedly, a hop in her step as she bounds over, dragging him into a hug.
He can't help the laugh that escapes him. Because even though his secret's out, Eri is safe. And there's some relief in that idea, that no matter how the rest of the day plays out, she'll be taken care of. He pulls back from the hug with a small smile, looking over the group of mostly strangers. "Mind if I help?"
"Where's Eri?" Oboro asks with a yawn, already dressed for work. He slumps into the seat next to Aizawa, leaning his head against the other's shoulder.
Aizawa takes another sip of coffee. "Zashi took her to school early to see Recovery Girl. Said he wanted to show her around a bit before the kids get there."
"And she's okay?"
Aizawa nods. "Had to calm her down from a nightmare last night, but she's done well aside from that." The corner of his lips twitch upward. "The hero association wanted to bring her in for quirk testing right after the raid but Tsukauchi fought them off," he sighs, "Demanded that they let her settle in after everything she's been through."
Oboro laughs, soft and sleepy. "Can't say I expected you to show up with a sleeping kid in your arms, but I'm certainly not opposed."
"Mic's already attached," Aizawa hums, "Says she has your hair."
Oboro smiles. "I feel like the detective won't be the only one fighting off the hero association for her."
There's a lull, a peaceful quiet, one that can't stay.
"...Piper's alive," Aizawa murmurs, breaking the silence.
Oboro stills beside him, raising his head from his shoulder. "You're certain?"
"I saw him. He's one of Mic's kids."
"...You know who he is?"
Aizawa nods.
Oboro is quiet for a long moment. "You haven't told anyone?"
The hero hums. "Just you. Detective Tsukachi found out the same time I did."
Oboro relaxes, pushing himself up. "He's a good kid," he says it like an agreement, like Aizawa had been the one to say it first.
Aizawa raises a brow at him. "You say that like you met Piper."
Oboro smiles, soft and radiant. "Not Piper."
But there's room at the end of that sentence that tells Aizawa everything he needs to know, that somehow, someway Oboro had already known. That Piper was alive, that he'd been right under their noses this whole time. How, why. He presses a kiss to the side of Aizawa's head.
"I'm off to work," the man reminds him, picking up his bag from the counter.
Aizawa rises with him. "But how––"
Oboro's eyes crinkle at the corners, the sunlight from the window illuminating the steely blue of his iris. "I've got appointments to keep, new client and all," he laughs, it's a relieved sort of sound. And suddenly the pieces fall into place.
A gentle huff escapes him, understanding, soft. "Doctor-patient confidentiality, I assume?" Aizawa asks.
Oboro only hums a noncommittal note, fighting off a smile that old scars cannot dim.
Izuku's shoes are full of sand, and his shirt clings uncomfortably to his back where sweat has gathered. But Reo still pulls him into a hug as soon as he arrives at their usual train stop, holding him tight like he's afraid Izuku will disappear. Izuku holds him back just as tight, burying his face into the boy's shoulder.
He hadn't said much to Reo the night before. They'd called of course, and Izuku had reassured him that everyone was safe and taken care of and that they'd rescued Eri. And he'd drifted to sleep listening to Reo ramble about his latest project to keep their minds occupied and off the fact that there was clearly something Izuku wasn't telling him. And he'd, admittedly, left out some of the more important details of the raid—like being outed as a supposedly dead vigilante to the two people who'd fought the hardest to catch him.
They're in a quiet corner of the station and for a moment Izuku lets them stay in that cushioned place between reality and hope, just a short moment before he explains what he'd been keeping from Reo since he'd returned home. Eventually, he forces out a soft: "Your uncle knows."
He can feel the way Reo's breath catches. "Knows what?" he asks, too quiet for how loud his friend could get. But Reo already knows the answer.
His fingers dig into the back of Reo's uniform, wishing the world would just swallow them whole. "About Piper..." he replies, just as soft, "Aizawa knows too. Ov—one of the villains recognized him, addressed him by name."
Reo's hold around him tightens. "But you're here?" It's a question, desperate, confused.
Izuku shakes his head. "I don't know." He pulls back. "They didn't seem mad, but— I don't know.
I really don't know."
"I-I'll talk to my uncle," Reo tries, "Maybe if I help explain it he'll—"
But Izuku cuts him off, "It won't matter if Aizawa doesn't agree to it as well."
Reo curses, turning to pace. A few passersby cast flickering glances at them before moving away.
"He'll probably want to talk with me today," Izuku states, tracking Reo with his eyes, "I couldn't bring myself to tell you last night but... I wanted you to know, just in case."
The boy whips back towards him. "You can't just—!" Reo's voice drops, anger dissipating just as quickly as it'd come, "Don't say it like that..." he finished weakly. "We'll—You saved his life... surely he won't..."
Izuku manages a weak smile. Emerald and amber fall into orbit with one another, like binary stars, like the universe in motion. Izuku offers the boy his hand. "Thank you for always being here."
Reo deflates with something sadly soft in his eyes as he takes Izuku's hand in his own. "I don't know who I'd be if I'd never met you, and I don't ever want to find out." He gives a gentle squeeze of their hands as their train pulls to a stop behind them. "I've thought a lot about how easy it could've been to never meet, how easy you could've just never come back," he whispers, "But you stayed. And I am never letting you go, Midoriya Izuku."
"Is that a promise?" Izuku asks softly, something to match the look on Reo's face.
"No," he huffs, the barest hints of a smile twitching at his lips, "it's a threat. And if they try anything to take you from me I'll reign hell on Earth to get you back. That is a promise. I know you don't always believe it, but the people of Musutafu—the people you've saved— they won't let you go without a fight either."
It's overcast when they arrive at UA, though the weatherman had assured it wouldn't stay that way for long. The windows reflect an endless sea of clouds in the meantime and at the very least it's a welcome break from the heat. Shinsou meets them at the gate with a yawn, bumping shoulders with Izuku as he falls into line beside them.
"Saw Aizawa on the way in today," Shinsou states boredly, "warned me we won't be training today."
Izuku lets out a noncommittal hum as Reo bumps their own shoulders, a reassuring presence at his side— a silent reminder of his promise.
The day is a surprisingly normal one. Literature with Cementos, and History with Snipe, P.E. with Vlad King. Reo stumbles over himself at lunch, just as surprised to see him there as Izuku was to be there. He's not sure what's going on or how many people could know his secret by now.
He can see the unasked question in Reo's eyes, but Izuku has no answer for him. Unsurprisingly, Reo and Shinsou are the ones to keep the conversation flowing, idle, light-hearted chatter because even Shinsou can see something's happened. And, just like on the beach, he can see a smile pulling at his lips again.
"I think you should tell Izuku about your niche internet fame," Reo grins, a mischievous look on his face when he catches Shinsou's eye.
The teen shovels another bite of food into his mouth, speaking around it. "No I don't think I should actually."
"I think you should," Izuku pipes in, looking between them excitedly.
After a short staring match, Shinsou eventually sighs, dropping his utensils. He swallows, leaning back in his seat, arms folding over his chest. "I'm not gonna be the one to say it."
Reo turns to Izuku excitedly. "He runs a Piper stan account."
"I do not," Shinsou denies, lurching forward. "I run a mildly successful youtube channel that
discusses Piper. There is a difference."
Izuku's eyes widen in shock, looking between the two.
Reo's grin only grows. "He made a three-part series about how he thought Piper's death was some sort of coverup."
At that Izuku snorts, trying to hold his amusement in for Shinsou's sake before ultimately failing. He's quick to fall into bright peels of laughter.
It's enough to dissolve all of the current anxieties he's been storing. Because Eri is safe; because Reo swore to protect him; because he has people that would do anything to see him through the end of this.
Lunch ends and there's still no word from Aizawa. Not in art history or math, not even English, at least, not until the final bell rings and Yamada stops him on the way out.
Like a wire pulled too tight, Izuku can feel his anxiety return with a painful sort ofsnap. Shinsou spares him a glance, brow raised in question, a silent: 'everything okay?' He hasn't seen behind the curtain, doesn't know what's happening. But Shinsou has to be aware that he's missing something important.
For Izuku the sight alone is reassuring; it reminds him of Reo's promise from before.
Izuku smiles, mouthing a quiet: 'yeah'. And he doesn't know if it's a lie or not. But he knows Reo will make sure it won't stay that way for long.
Izuku follows Yamada without complaint. The hero chatters idly as they walk the halls and it's clear by that alone that he doesn't seem privy to Izuku's best kept secret. Yamada grins at Izuku over his shoulder. "Eri's been asking about you."
Izuku feels something in his chest loosen. A smile blooms to life on his lips, soft as the sunrise. "How is she?"
Yamada is momentarily caught off guard by the look on his face, by the gentleness of his tone. His stride stutters for all of half a second before he forces himself onward. Some four months ago he'd gotten a call from a hysteric mother about the boy trailing just behind him. He's changed in the time since.
Yamada smiles back as they slow to a stop outside the teachers' lounge. "You can ask her yourself." He pushes the door open quietly, revealing those inside.
Any further anxiety Izuku had been hanging onto dissipates at the sight of Aizawa holding Eri in his lap. The hero works at grading essays while she scribbles in a notebook with crayons they'd scrounged up for her. She's wearing a new dress, bandages discarded, hair freshly washed; Izuku can't stop the tears that well up in his eyes. He wipes at them furiously, trying not to draw attention from the two just yet as Yamada rests a comforting hand on his back.
"She's staying with us at the moment," the hero tells him, quiet enough that the others can't hear. He can tell Aizawa's clocks their presence however, even if he pretends to ignore them.
"Us?" The words come out a bit strained, too full of emotion.
Yamada just wiggles his fingers out in front of him, two identical rings catching the light. He'd seen the same ones around Aizawa's neck just before the raid, he realizes. "We're married, you know?" the hero tells him with a bright grin. "Our third is a pediatric therapist, so rest assured she's being taken care of." His grin dims a little, turning to something soft. "We're already attached, I think."
Izuku sniffles, blinking away any lingering tears. "Eri deserves something good."
"She does," then, with another grin, Yamada calls to the two with a sing-song voice, "Oh Eriii~ I
brought someone to see you~"
The other two finally look over at their arrival as Eri's eyes go wide and she wriggles out of Aizawa's lap to rush towards him. He crouches, throwing his arms around her as she barrels into his chest. He laughs, nearly falling back with the impact. "Red!"
Izuku holds her tight. "You know, Izuku is what my friends call me," he explains with a smile. She pulls away a little to study his face. "Izuku?" Eri asks, testing the name out.
The boy nods, expression soft.
She presses her hands to his cheeks. "Thank you, Izuku," she whispers the words, a determined sort of look crossing her face, like this is a secret just for the two of them. And maybe it had been at one point.
Eri throws herself back into the hug and Izuku's eyes flicker to Aizawa as he pulls her close.
Eri eventually lets go, dragging him to look at all the drawings she's done today. At the end, she shyly hands Izuku one of them. Crayon scribbled against the paper with care, in it Aizawa and Izuku are donned in their hero gear, standing on either side of Eri who has her arms raised to hold their hands.
Izuku beams at her, praising her skills alongside Yamada who looks through the art with them.
Aizawa lets them have their time, but the moment can't last forever. He doesn't know how much time passes before Aizawa stands. "Midoriya."
It's a summons if Izuku's ever heard one. He looks up to catch sight of the soft tilt of the hero's head towards the door. The boy feels himself stiffen but pushes through the spike of fear. He stands, sliding Eri's drawing off the desk to carefully tuck it into his bag.
Eri and Yamada are absorbed in the little drawing competition they'd started up, her tongue poked out in heavy concentration. It's a good time to slip out unnoticed.
Izuku follows Aizawa quietly out the door. He thinks he'll be brought to another room like before for, at the very least, some sort of an interrogation. Instead, he leads Izuku to a stairwell, winding their way up the steps until the hero pushes out onto the rooftop.
Izuku has had nightmares about this place, but seeing it in person makes it feel so ordinary––so plain. Gravel crunches under their shoes as they move closer to the edge of the roof, it's the perfect height to lean against, though neither of them do. They stop just before it, Aizawa's hands stuffed in his pockets, looking out over the city.
The sky has cleared, just like the weatherman had said, though a few clouds still linger above.
The days were getting shorter again, soon enough fall will be upon them, then winter, then spring and summer again.
They're both quiet for a long time, neither one saying a word. They watch the clouds drift overhead, listening to the city breathe below them––a city they had both fought to protect in their own ways.
"Detective Tsukauchi and I talked," Aizawa starts suddenly, looking out over the horizon, "After the raid. We'd both come to the same conclusion."
Izuku's anxiety rises and falls like the steady lapping of the tide. He holds onto Reo's promise like a moon in orbit, a silent mantra of: 'they won't let you go without a fight'.
But there's an amused exhale from the hero, "I think he figured he was going to have to fight to get me to agree with him. But really there wasn't anything to disagree on." He looks down at Izuku. The last time they'd met before Piper's death, they'd both been bloody and broken. Izuku can see the scar it'd left the hero with, carved beneath his eye. It shares a similar curve to the ones on his ribs.
"The world thinks Piper is dead," Aizawa states simply. There's nothing hidden in the words, no anger, no contempt. He searches for something in Izuku's eyes. Whatever it is he's looking for, he must find. "And really," Aizawa rumbles, "there's no reason for us to tell them otherwise. Any possible punishments for his crimes died with him." He finds a hint of a smile on the hero's lips. The answer comes from his mouth like it's a simple fact rather than the decision Izuku had been most afraid to hear since he'd donned the mantle that was Pied Piper. He makes it seem like an easy decision.
And... maybe it is.
Izuku looks at Aizawa, eyes wide, unbelieving. "You're not telling anyone?"
There's a breath of laughter from the hero. "I'll probably tell Mic, despite how he seems he's rather good at keeping secrets... He was worried about you too."
"And... you said the detective agreed to it?" Izuku asks hoarsely.
Aizawa sighs. "He was the one who asked that I keep it quiet. I doubt he'll ever tell you, but I think there was a point while he was working your case that he stopped wanting to catch you. But he wanted you safe and catching you seemed like the best option back then."
Izuku falls silent at that, turning back to study the skyline, letting Aizawa's words settle under his skin, comforting his frayed nerves. He fights off the tears he can feel building in his eyes.
Above them, the sun emerges from behind a cloud, warming their backs and illuminating the finish line just steps ahead of him.
In another universe, there is a boy with green hair and viridescent eyes just like Izuku that is on his way to becoming Japan's number one hero, whose idol has become his father, whose bully has become his friend. But in this universe , Midoriya Izuku, the boy with a stippling of stars across his cheeks and a roaring sun for a heart, decides that he has it better. He has scars carved into his body like constellations that may try to prove otherwise, but in this universe Izuku is happy .
He is on his own path to heroism. It is far from glorious, but it's enough for the boy with friends turned soulmates, and circumstantial adversaries turned father figures. It is enough for he who has experienced death. It is enough. He is enough.
He looks back to Aizawa, an emerald hope burning bright as the sun in his eyes. Aizawa extends a hand out toward the boy. "You taught yourself how to be a vigilante. Now..." he says with a softness Izuku doesn't expect, "let me teach you how to be a hero."