The room was silent, save for the sound of Izuku's pen dancing across the page of his diary. With everyone away, including his mom for her check-up with Nurse Shin, he had the space to focus on Aizawa's assignment: to jot down details about the voices he heard.

His mother, fresh from her appointment, watched him from the doorway. The lines on her forehead deepened as she settled in her usual spot.

"Is everything alright, Izuku?" she probed, her voice dripping with concern.

Trying to mask his feelings, Izuku looked up, forcing a smile. "Yeah, everything's fine, Mom. Would you like some tea?"

She nodded, her eyes never leaving him. "You can talk to me, you know," she whispered after sipping the tea he made for her.

He hesitated. "Writing about heroes was easier than... this," he admitted, struggling to convey the unfamiliarity of documenting his internal voices.

She touched his leg reassuringly. "What about you and Katsuki? Still haven't worked things out?"

He gaped. "How...?"

"You two were never subtle, Izuku."

Flustered, he glanced away, unsure if he was prepared to discuss the change in his relationship with Katsuki, especially their unspoken confession.

When he didn't respond, his mother patted his leg again and reassured him, "You'll work things out in time."

The thought weighed on him. The upcoming mission, though, was a beacon of hope.

Izuku was pulled from his thoughts as his friends entered the room. "Where's Katsuki?" he asked Denki, trying to sound indifferent.

Denki, who was fiddling with a gadget Hatsume had handed him earlier, looked up with a shrug. "He went to train with Ochako before dinner. Said something about wanting to improve his reflexes."

Hatsume, who was seated across from them, smirked, her goggles glinting. "Yeah, those two have been trying to combine their quirks in some sort of gravity explosion maneuver. If they pull it off, it'll be epic!"

Izuku nodded, the pang of jealousy he felt surprising him. Before he could delve further into that emotion, another absence caught his attention. "Has anyone seen Chieko?" he asked, scanning the room for her familiar silhouette.

Hatsume, who was meticulously assembling a tiny gadget at the table, looked up. "I stopped by Nurse Shin's office earlier to get some parts I ordered. Saw Chieko there, but she left before I did."

Shinso, who had been quietly observing the conversation, stood up. "Want me to help look for her?"

Izuku shook his head. "Thanks, Shinso, but I have an idea of where she might be."

His mom, sitting in a corner, reading a book, looked up. Her eyes held a mix of concern and warmth. "Just make sure you don't give Chieko too much trouble when you find her, okay?"

Izuku nodded, smiling sheepishly. "I promise, Mom. I'll just bring her back before it gets dark."

Denki, aiming to elevate the mood, quipped about Hatsume's gadget, but she dismissed him with her usual flair, making Shinso laugh.

Once outside, Izuku quickened his pace. Memories swarmed him as he neared a familiar broken wall - the covert breach he and Katsuki had found earlier. They had learned that Chieko had been sneaking out. Their previous search for her had been tense. Upon returning, she had promised not to wander alone.

Frustration brewed as he followed the path once more. If Chieko left the school again, then that meant they couldn't trust her to keep her word, especially now when their place in the school was so rocky.

Navigating the same hidden entrance, the forest's musk enveloped Izuku. But as he ventured deeper, the unsettling sight of unmoving animals rattled him. He pressed on, drawn by Chieko's incongruous laughter. The contrast between the eerie calm of the forest and Chieko's mirth unnerved him.

He stepped into a clearing, his voice tight. "Chieko?"

The laughter ceased.

Before him stood Chieko, her body language abruptly shifting into a protective stance. A young girl, whose silver hair gleamed ethereally in the sunlight, instinctively huddled closer to Chieko, her blue eyes round with trepidation. The raw fear clear in those youthful eyes tugged at Izuku's heartstrings, making him regret the abruptness of his approach.

"Who is she, Chieko?"

"This is Eri," Chieko answered, her voice laden with emotion. "She's been hiding since the Yakuza-villains clash near U.A."

Realization washed over him. The implication was chilling. "You saved her from them?"

Chieko affirmed. Behind her, Eri's grip on Chieko tightened. Her red eyes, though fearful, held a fiery spirit Izuku found familiar. He crouched down, extending a hand. "Hey, Eri."

In Eri's vivid red eyes, Izuku caught a familiar fiery spirit reminiscent of Kacchan. She offered a tiny nod in response, her reticence palpable. The thought of her enduring loneliness before Chieko's intervention gnawed at him.

Chieko's voice pulled him back, urgency clear. "Promise me, Izuku. Tell no one. Especially not Aizawa."

A storm of emotions raged within Izuku. The weight of the truth was oppressive, but understanding dawned on him. If Eri was the target, he grasped why Chieko was hell-bent on shielding her. Perhaps Chieko, given her unique experiences, empathized with Eri more deeply than he realized.

Gazing at Eri's fragile form, then locking eyes with Chieko, he sighed heavily. "Understand. I'm part of the team assigned to find her. Kacchan's with us. I can't guarantee how long I can keep her hidden."

"Just for now," Chieko whispered.

"But, the dead animals? Is it Eri's quirk causing that?" Izuku pressed.

The hesitation between the girls was palpable. However, Izuku's determination was unwavering. "If I'm to keep your secret, I need complete honesty."

Chieko exhaled, her eyes heavy with confession. "It's me."

Confusion muddled Izuku's thoughts. "But how? I thought your ability was to heal."

She shifted uncomfortably. "The hospital ran tests... I take on others' injuries when I heal. What I didn't know is that I can also transfer those injuries to any living being."

A heavy silence enveloped them after Chieko's revelation.

"So, you've been practicing on animals?" Izuku's voice quivered with a mix of curiosity and trepidation.

He wasn't sure if he liked the thought. Chieko's eyes, darkened by an unspeakable weight, met his. "It wouldn't be the first time I had to do it. After a while, you get used to it and it's better than another person."

Izuku's thoughts drifted back to her murky past with the Inasumi. She never talked about it, but they also never asked her either. Inasumi's words came back to him the last time they saw him.'You don't even know the full extent of what she can do.'

"Let's keep it to a minimum, then. We'll find a better way for you to train." He murmured, the protective instinct in him rising.

"But what about Eri?" Chieko interjected, her tone laced with urgency. "She needs to control her quirk. It's unpredictable, and keeping it suppressed is dangerous."

Izuku's attention honed in on the young girl, an earnest curiosity in his eyes. "What exactly can you do, Eri?"

Taking a deep breath, Eri stepped forward. "My quirk... it rewinds things," she began, her voice quiet and hesitant. "Anyone or anything I touch can revert to a previous state. The Yakuza... they used me. I don't know what for, but I know it's for something bad."

Realization dawned on Izuku. The pieces fell into place. The drugs, the Yakuza's operations, Dabi's team—it all centered on this fragile child in front of him and her useful quirk. A pang of anger welled up within him, a fury directed at yet another life marred by cruelty. Chieko's own torment echoed back at him, adding to the weight of his emotions.

Heroes and villains, in the end, both sides will do anything for their own interests. Izuku swallowed down the anger as he pushed it down, knowing he had to be strong for both of them now.

Izuku's outward demeanor remained calm, the corners of his mouth turning upwards in a strained smile, willing Eri to find some comfort. "Eri, we'll help you," he said, his voice gentle. "You're not alone anymore. And we'll make sure those people can't hurt you—or anyone else—again."

A deep breath steadied him, and he made a choice, hoping it was the right one. "For now, your secret's safe with me, Chieko," he declared, striving to make his voice sound more confident than he felt.

"But we need to plan out how to keep Eri safe within UA. It won't be easy, but..." His voice trailed off, leaving the statement hanging in the air as an unspoken promise.

The three of them hurried through the hallways, their footsteps barely audible against the cold floors of the UA compound. Izuku's heart raced, but he kept his focus on the task at hand.

"I know a place," he whispered, leading them to a small storage room Aizawa had allocated for his team's use. It was tucked away in a quiet corridor, a place that few ever ventured.

Inside, stacks of boxes filled the small room, old equipment, and a multitude of items long forgotten. A thin layer of dust covered most surfaces, showing its infrequent use.

"We can set up a spot for you behind those boxes," Izuku said, pointing to a corner that was cast in shadow, yet had enough space for Eri to rest comfortably.

Chieko immediately began rearranging the boxes, creating a makeshift barrier. "This way, even if someone comes in, they won't see you immediately," she explained.

Eri looked around, her gaze settling on the cozy nook they'd fashioned for her. "I can stay here," she affirmed, her voice sounding far braver than her tender years would suggest.

Izuku knelt beside her, ensuring he was eye-level. "Eri, it's temporary, alright? Soon, we'll figure out a better solution. But for now, this is the safest place for you."

She nodded, clutching a small bag she had brought with her. "Thank you, Izuku, Chieko."

Chieko draped a comforting arm around the girl. "We'll bring you food and anything else you need. And we'll check on you regularly."

"Remember, Eri," Izuku said, his voice carrying the weight of the responsibility he now bore, "Stay quiet if anyone's nearby. Three quick knocks, okay? That's our signal."

She nodded, her wide eyes locking onto his. "Three quick knocks," she echoed, etching the sequence deep into her mind.

Soft noises of Izuku rearranging the surroundings filled the room, aiming to make the makeshift hideout as homely as possible.

Would Kacchan even understand the reasons if he were to discover the truth? The potential disappointment, maybe even betrayal, in those fiery eyes gnawed at Izuku's heart, but he couldn't change his mind now.

Engrossed in his thoughts, he almost missed the gentle moment unfolding between Chieko and Eri. Chieko had come a long way, but he had become accustomed to seeing the wall she placed around her even while she was laughing and enjoying herself. It was no denying that Chieko had left that hospital with scars that Izuku wasn't sure she would ever fully heal from, but watching her knelt beside Eri, brushing the girl's silver hair back from her face in a tender gesture showed an unguarded side to his friend that he could only thank the small girl for.

"It's going to be alright," Chieko whispered to the younger girl, her voice softer than Izuku had ever heard. "Izuku will keep you safe."

Eri looked up, her cerulean eyes shimmering with a mix of gratitude and vulnerability. "Okay, Chieko-nee," she murmured, her voice barely audible.

Taking a deep breath, Izuku stepped out of the storage room, closing the door gently behind him to give them space.

Alone, Izuku's thoughts unintentionally wandered back to his recent interaction with Kacchan. The memory of their charged encounter - the unresolved tension, the raw emotions, and the silent plea in Kacchan's eyes - played vividly in his mind.

Shaking his head slightly, Izuku tried to push the thoughts away, but they clung to him, deepening the gravity of the situation he was now in. It was a stark reminder of just how complicated relationships could become and the impact of the decisions they made.

Chieko, breaking his reverie, stood by the door as she closed it shut behind her and turned toward him, her face displaying a sense of relief. "We should go," she murmured.

The two of them then made their way out, the weight of their shared responsibility resting heavily on their shoulders. They both knew that the choices they made today would determine the safety and future of the young girl they left behind.