The Original work is written by the original Author, Op Taipan. This is also the last chapter that he created. In all honesty, all the credit should be towards him not me.

The next chapter is delayed. I'm trying to pass the license exam for my Food Handler and Smart Serve. So all my chapters for all my fanfics are delayed. Please understand, that I plan to continue this fanfic as best as I can, they're just not fast or going to be longer like before.

On Wattapad, I'll be posting the unfinished drawing of the new cover. Also, I should add another drawing in the next chapter, Toya and Izuku eating ice cream.

Before you start Toya has red hair rather than white. He is 13 years old and the second child of Enji Todoroki, among his four kids. When he is around Izuku and Kyoka he is addressed as Dabi.

14464 words in total Impressive


BOOK TWO:

FIRE

CHAPTER FIVE:

RAGING FIRE


Izuku had never felt more exhausted. He was leaning on his knees, his throat dry, as sweat poured down his face and arms. The yellow shirt above his collarbone was moist, clinging to his sleek skin uncomfortably around the seams. His breath came out in raspy heaves as he struggled for breath. Emerald eyes were closed shut; the salt in them stung.

"Again." He heard Iroh's call from over his shoulder.

The boy clutched down on the fabric of his shorts, knuckles bone white. The greenette let out a shuddering heave. He wiped his face with his left arm, but the damp compression sleeve could not absorb much more. Instead, the beads of sweat smeared across his face evenly, and the mere fact he could no longer feel them trickle down was a godsend.

Lungs expanded as Izuku took in the warm spring air. He squared his shoulders, bent his knees, and planted his feet firmly into the ground. His eyes blinked open, fluttering for a moment before hardening and steeling in preparation.

He tucked his fists to his waist; his feet were close together, the left slightly more forward than the right. He waited, seconds ticking by as droplets of sweat began to form again.

"Go."

Lungs contracted. Izuku shot his left leg forward; his right stretched but remained rooted. He thrust his right fist; a whoosh of air passed by his ears. But the fire did not come.

The boy tsked.

Leaning his back forward, Izuku twisted his core, his arms raised and right foot in the air. It stomped on the ground and stayed rooted, transferring its built momentum to his left as his entire body spun. The foot shot up high, above his head, and was accompanied by a loud "Hya!" from the boy.

But still, the fire did not come.

He remained frozen in his stance, raised leg still quivering before all bits of strength left him. The boy flopped down on his back, spraying his sweaty body on the ground and glaring up at the sun peeking through a thin layer of white fluff.

The boy growled, his teeth grinding, and pressing his palms to his sockets, "What is wrong with me?!"

Behind him, Iroh sighed, though not in disappointment. Iroh was never disappointed. Not in him. "Nothing is, young Avatar. You are merely struggling, that is perfectly normal."

Izuku craned his head backward. The world was upside down, up was down, and down was up. He could still see Iroh standing there. As usual, his eyes sparkled with gentleness and kindness, even when his lips were pressed together in a neutral line. His hands were hidden behind the sleeves of his long robe, both were conjoined.

In that pose, and with Izuku's point of view, he almost looked like a bat. A fact that passed over the boy's head in his anguish.

Emerald eyes squinted. "Except, I have been struggling for months!" He argued, spreading his arms to either side of him in a flop. "That is not normal! I've been studying for hours, learned more than thirty forms, and have been practicing almost every day! I should've made a fire by now, but I can't even make a puff of smoke!" His fists grabbed some stray blades of grass tightly. They tore easily, smearing guttation fluids all over his hands.

He looked at Iroh expectantly, challenging him silently to rebuke him. Maybe a part of him wanted him too. In response, and though it looked upside down to the boy, Iroh grinned at him. That same, dotting, literally ethereal smile he wore whether Izuku nailed down a form for the first time or was having trouble.

Izuku's heart fluttered. His scowl weakened and his lips twitched. Iroh stepped closer, crouching down next to the boy's head and sitting in the lotus position.

Then he said something Izuku wasn't expecting.

"May I tell you a story, Avatar Izuku?"

Izuku shot up into a sitting position. What? Just, what? That was random. Or was it? He could never tell when it came to his teacher. The boy looked at Iroh apprehensively. He didn't understand how a story would help him, but he was still curious.

The boy gave a weak nod.

That was all Iroh needed.

"There was once a Jackalope." Izuku blinked owlishly for a moment at the name but shrugged it off rather quickly. Iroh told him of similar creatures, and he encountered weirder.

"The Jackalope used to boast about being the fastest animal in the forest they called home. They would race day and night, challenging the other animals into races and wagering away their belongings when they lost.

The animals grew frustrated and angry. All would challenge the Jackalope, hoping to be the one to beat him, only to lose both the race, their pride, and the gamble..."

Izuku frowned. He did not like this Jackalope character, he was a thief and mean about it, almost like a villain.

"…Until one day, a tiny Turtle-Duck came along. They challenged the Jackalope to a race, waging their prized shell in return for the Jackalope returning all his stolen items. The Jackalope laughed at the Turtle-Duck in mockery, but they accepted the challenge. Their pride was too large to refuse.

They were to race through the entire forest, the starting line was set at the point where a long river entered the woods; the finish line was set at the delta where that same river fed into the sea.

The race was afoot. The Jackalope pounced into action, bolting his way through the forest in a flash, hopping from one rock to another down the trodden path and, seemingly, leaving the Turtle-Duck in the dust.

But the small, cunning Turtle-Duck had no intention of running through the forest. No. Instead, they jumped into the water, and there, in their element, they began to swim down the stream.

And so, while the Jackalope made their way, avoiding tree trunks and climbing tall, steep hills, the Turtle-Duck swam through the river, avoiding rapids and braving waterfalls."

Izuku had to suppress a wince. That didn't sound very pleasant, the poor Turtle-Duck.

"Once the Jackalope reached the finish line, they found their rival already there, hailed by the other animals as their champion.

The Jackalope had lost."

Izuku looked at Iroh in wonder. "Wow." That was such a good story. Though it sounded kind of familiar… "So the Jackalope underestimated the Turtle-Duck and let his pride get the better of him. That's why he lost, right?" But the boy felt like he was missing something. What did any of it have to do with him and his problem? He wasn't prideful. At least… he thinks.

"Right." Iroh agreed with Izuku's conclusion by nodding his head. "But that is not why I told you this story." The old man smiled playfully, "Can you guess the other moral?"

The forest-haired boy pondered for a moment, holding his chin in thought. The first moral, the one about pride, was embodied by the Jackalope character. Then, what was the Turtle Duck representing? Throughout the story, they acted nothing short of heroic and were hailed as such by the end. Was the moral just 'to be a hero you just need to act like one'? No, that was too straightforward. Maybe it had to do with the Turtle-Duck's cunning?

Izuku drew a blank and shrugged his shoulders.

"Think for a moment on your own predicament, then on the story," Iroh said, "In the end, both the Jackalope and the Turtle-Duck reached the finish line. One did it the traditional way, and the other in a way that was his own."

Izuku, finally applying to story to his situation, understood.

"So," He said meekly, "I'm like the Turtle Duck?"

Iroh smiled proudly at him and Izuku's heart fluttered with joy. "Precisely. Your way may be a bit unconventional; it may be harder. But it is your own. And like that Turtle-Duck could have gone further and crossed the sea, reaching places the Jackalope could not. Your own path might take you places other Firebenders have not reached."

Emerald eyes shimmered, gazing in wonder up at Iroh. It was still somewhat hard to believe. He himself didn't think he could do what the Turtle Duck in the story did. So why was his heart still pumping excitedly?

"In fact," Iroh added, seemingly unsatisfied with his efforts to uplift his student's spirit. "You already made great strides in your training, even if you think otherwise."

Izuku frowned, quizzically. No, he didn't. He hadn't made any progress at all! So why would Iroh say this? To make him feel better?

Iroh gave out a small chuckle, and the boy was reminded once again how easily he could be read by him. "You don't believe me." He somehow stated it as both a fact and a mirthful challenge. "Why don't you humor this old man?" He chuckled, gesturing to Izuku to crane his head towards the shade of a nearby tree. There, scattered all over the floor by a swish from Chima's tail, laid his discarded belongings.

The boy walked up to his stuff, flicking Chima's swishing tail for good measure and getting flicked back. His red notebook was laid open in the shade, looking none the worse for wear despite being flung away by an oversized Badger earlier. Iroh nodded at him, and Izuku picked the notebook up.

He flipped through the pages.

Basic stances, basic forms, the early history of the fire nation, Firebending philosophy, theoretical applications, even tips and tricks to get each stance down. Pages upon pages were speckled with information in the form of crude and compact handwriting. The only obstruction to this surprisingly neat norm was the different diagrams and sketches of Firebending inserted into key positions. Some of them were even colorized! Pictures of masters he heard from stories, dressed in vibrant scarlet robes and golden ornaments.

It took him way longer than he thought to skim through it all. 'I… made this?' Izuku closed the notebook in astonishment, his hand grazing the red spine softly. He slowly turned to look at Iroh, his amazed expression never shifting.

Iroh beamed down at him, "Never mistake this. Every lesson you have taken has made you stronger than you were before. You learned, improved, and adapted after each one, each a step further down your chosen path. And if you choose to continue walking, one day you will reach a better place."

The old man ruffled the boy's hair. Or at least did the spiritual equivalent. Once again it felt so warm, but only now did Izuku link that feeling to the sensation of a gentle sun beaming down on him. Blush marks on his cheeks and notebook hugged tightly to his chest, Izuku gave Iroh the most grateful smile he could muster. It was a meek, wobbly, thing; but it burned with the light of countless suns.

A weight dropped from Izuku's heart. He may not be a Firebender yet, but all the time, sweat, and tears were not wasted, not yet. So long as he didn't stop walking.

That was all there was to it, right? It had to be it.

Izuku put the notebook down and held his palms in front of his face. They were dirty, calloused, and mottled with green liquids. The palms of an Earthbender, certainly; but of a Firebender?

Even if they weren't he'd make them… somehow.

There was a small pause between them. It was nice, to just bask at the moment, in renewed vigor. But just that wouldn't get them any results. Perhaps Iroh should make a proverb out of this? The old man pondered as he stroked his beard. "Well, it is true your path to igniting your Firebending has been more arduous than most." Didn't Izuku know half of it. "But there is still one more barrier for you to overcome."

Barrier? Why did that sound so familiar? Izuku shook off the feeling. "You mentioned every Avatar had an element that was blocked because it was their emotional opposite." He began, his conclusion was obvious. "Is Fire mine?"

Iroh hummed for a moment, before shaking his head. "No, I don't believe it is." He knew Izuku well enough. And never had he pegged Iroh as an Avatar who would struggle with fire. It was more than likely his Airbending or Waterbending. The kid was rather stiff and lacked fluidity. But that was a problem for much later. "Something else is holding you back, and it is up to you to find and overcome it."

Izuku wasn't sure what it was, maybe Iroh's inspirational speech or his burning desire, but that last part sounded like a challenge aimed at him. He knew it wasn't, Iroh didn't motivate his students like that. But he still heard the blood pumping in his ears. He was raring to go.

"Then what are we waiting for?!" He declared, loud and proud and anxious as he entered a basic stance and urged on his teacher. "Let's get to it and break this barrier!"

The old man stared at the boy for a moment before giving out a hearty chuckle. "Not today, I'm afraid." He chuckled again when Izuku fumbled out of his stance in confusion. "Our time is up," a pointed finger escaped from the folds of the robes, "and you have a visitor."

And then, just like that, Iroh faded out of reality, leaving Izuku in a complete stupor.

The boy blinked owlishly at the spot his teacher was standing just a moment prior, "Wha-?" He said intelligently, "Visitor? What is he talking ab-?"

A rustle in the bushes cut him short.

A single, gloved, hand sprouts from the shrubbery and waved.

"Yo! Midoriya! What's up?!"

A jovial voice called out, quickly followed by a head that bursts forth like a sprout in the early spring. A rather fitting allegory, Izuku thinks, watching the flower stuck in the boy's hair.

It's a familiar face, one that the boy got quite used to. A Round childish face, a mischievous grin that spelled trouble, and wild crimson-red hair that had leaves poking out of it like a sore thumb.

A wide grin stretched on Izuku's face. "Dabi!" He beamed, charging to meet his friend.

Dabi bursts from the bushes, rushing to meet Izuku halfway. They stopped in front of one another, each raising a clenched fist. Dabi smashed his on top of Izuku's.

They grinned at each other for a moment, and then Dabi peers over his shoulder. The redhead blinked owlishly, his gaze flickering over the clearing.

"Hey, where's Jirou?" He asks, combing through the glade once more for good measure, but coming back empty-handed.

The boy's face scrunched up in confusion for a moment before he catches up. "Oh? Yeah!" Izuku slams his fist on his palm. "Her Guitar instructor was sick yesterday, so they make up the time now."

Dabi whistled. "Damn, I knew that teacher of hers was harsh, but they can't even skip one lesson?"

Izuku shrugged. "They have an important concert coming up. Her teacher is pretty high profile from what I heard, so they have a level they need to keep. Apparently, they have been driving Jirou especially hard lately. They call her their 'Star Pupil'."

Both chuckled light-heartedly, imagining Jirou's reaction to such a title. She deserved it, don't get them wrong. But just the fact she got so flustered by it, all red-faced and stammering… Well, let's just say it was a payback that was a long time coming.

"So it's just us boys today, huh?" Dabi hums, hands on his hips.

Izuku shook his head and pointed towards the other side of the glade, where his monstrous pet was laying down. "And Chima." He said, tone dead serious.

Dabi rolled his eyes, "And Chima…"

The Badgermole raised its head and let out an annoyed snarl at Dabi, before flopping back down unceremoniously with a drawn-out moan.

A crease appeared between Dabi's eyebrows, "He seems a bit moody." He grumbled, looking away from Izuku and muttering, 'More than usual anyways…'

Izuku huffed, and gestured to Chima with exasperation, "Yeah, he's been like that since morning" he grumbled.

'So those two are at odds again…'

"What did you do to him~?" The redhead grinned as he asked, all coy and smug. For once he wasn't on Chima's crosshair! Seriously, it was always him! If Dabi remembered things right, the last time Chima and his owner fought was when Izuku forced the Badgermole to take a bath in the river after he played in the mud.

Izuku's nostrils flared. "Nothing!" He yelled in indignation, before crossing his arms and looking away from Chima. "SOMEONE," He raised his voice unnecessarily loud, "Just woke up on the wrong side of the rock pile this morning and decided to be a jerk!"

Chima snarled without even raising his head.

Dabi shamelessly snickered into his hand. This was too good! It was like watching Fuyumi and Natsuo fighting over the remote only a thousand times better! He shrugged off Izuku's vexed glare; he might as well have been glared at by a rabbit. Not Mimi, though, she was scary.

"Welp," He chuckled, pointing his thumb over his shoulder, "You wanna ditch this place?"

Izuku closed his eyes and let out his breath through his nose, "You know what?" He asked, rhetorically, "this sounds lovely!"

Picking up his things into his bag, the boy slung it over his shoulder before turning his head to his pet. "Bye Chima!" He waved, and joined Dabi as the two made their way out of the clearing.

Chima only let out a huff before he closed his eyes and began snoring.

With one final glance at Chima, the two left the glade. The clearing was soon obstructed from view by thick undergrowth that became thinner the longer they went. After exchanging the usual pleasantries, 'How are you? How was your day? Did anything interesting happen?' Silence loomed between the two. Izuku found himself lost in thought, his pupils darting towards nowhere as he fumbled with the straps of his backpacks.


Little while later.

They left the park, now walking through the streets of the city with the other children enjoying the spring afternoon. Though, for whatever reason, Izuku didn't. When he wasn't plucking strings from the old straps he fiddled with his fingers. His mind was seemingly absent; only to get a sudden rush of adrenaline and almost make a U-turn back to the park before remembering Iroh wouldn't be there and stop.

Soft mutters would occasionally escape between his lips. Dabi didn't catch all of it, he barely caught any at all, but he did pick up words like 'form', 'breathing', and 'fire' oddly enough, amongst the jargon.

Dabi didn't mind the muttering. He knew Izuku for months, and by this point, he was more than aware they were a packaged deal. No, what he did mind was having to pull on Izuku's shirt every time he was about to collide with something and wasn't looking.

Luckily, there was a solution.

Wrapping an arm around the greenette's shoulders, Dabi guided him through the streets as he let him get whatever it was out of his system. Knowing him, it would probably take about five minutes.

Then double that time had passed.

Dabi wrinkled his nose. Izuku was already sweaty; terribly so. And the sun beaming down on them mercilessly wasn't helping things either. Heck, sweat had already gathered on his brow, and he didn't even exercise!

Dabi panted, trying to ignore the smell of two clammy children when his eyes landed on a small store tucked between two much larger restaurants. It was decorated with whimsical colors, mostly pink, and cyan. A sign was positioned near the door, on it a drawing alongside hand-written advertisements of the offered products.

Not that it was necessary.

Anyone looking through the display window would immediately get all the advertisements they needed. Dabi could see the brightly colored plastic orbs stacked together, one atop the other. They recreated the store's offered goods, held in fake glass goblets, and topped with faux whipped cream and sauce.

He licked his lips, glanced down at Izuku, grinned, and then pointed to the store.

"Say, you're in the mood for some ice cream?" He asked, shaking Izuku's shoulder for good measure. A little drool escaped between his lips, he looked at the store as if it was a godsend "I know I am."

"Wha-?" Izuku's head jerked swiftly towards Dabi with a yowl. The greenette blinked at him owlishly, his freckled cheeks gaining a tint of red as he realized he spaced out for so long before he registered his friend's words. He read the sign, and not a moment later he could already feel the spit building up in his mouth. Ice cream, or any food for that matter, sounded great right about now. He didn't eat anything since this morning; someone trashed his lunch when he went to the bathroom.

The shop's door was shoved open, two girls walked out each holding cones. The scent of tart fruits and processed sugar was heavenly.

He reached his hand down unconsciously towards his pockets, eyes glued to the faux parfaits on the display window. But upon tapping his pockets, flat and empty, he felt a cold reminder. Izuku let out a strange sound, a mix between a gasp and a whine, before quickly averting his gaze from the store in shame.

"N-no, I-I'm fine." He choked out, swallowing the spit his traitorous glands had produced. He really should've gotten used to this by now. And yet, here he was, disappointed and hungry. Again.

Dabi made a face. It was his trademarked 'I know what you're thinking, and I don't like it' face. His eyebrows were scrunched, his nose wrinkled, and his lips were pressed thinly together and to the side.

Then, as if he had an epiphany, his eyebrows shot up and a shit-eating grin appeared on his face. The kind of face that had teachers send you to the principles before you could enact your master plan.

He grabbed Izuku's wrist and dragged him to the front of the store, Izuku yelling for him to stop all the way.

"Wait here." The redhead said, right before opening the door with a whimsical chime and shutting it close.

Dabi was sometimes a prick. Izuku pouted, crossing his arms and glaring at his feet as he stood outside the store. Though, trying to look enraged while standing next to a smiling, hand-drawn, anthropomorphic ice cream cone proved to be difficult.

And no, the old woman who passed by did not call him adorable.

It took a few minutes, but the bell's ring signaled Dabi leaving the store with a laugh.

"Here!" He said, shoving an ice cream cone into Izuku's hands before the boy got the chance to face him.

"Wha-?" The boy fumbled with the cone for a moment, then glared at Dabi. "Hey! I said I didn't want any!"

Dabi waved a finger and clicked his tongue, "No, you said it just because you don't want to spend any money." He said bluntly, not even blinking as Izuku choked on his words.

'Not that you have any on you…'

Wasn't that depressing? Time to fix that.

"Well, too bad!" Dabi slapped Izuku on the back and the boy almost toppled and spilled his ice cream. It wasn't even that strong, but somehow Izuku always fell for it. "I already paid for it and if you don't eat it you're wasting food, and my money." That last part was technically a lie. But hey, his father won't notice a few thousand yen missing every now and then.

The white lie did do its job, though. The metaphorical punch to the gut hit its mark, and Izuku could feel his resolve crumble. The boy inhaled sharply, accepting the cone by bringing it close to his face and taking a small nib.

'Strawberry…' He licked his lips.

"Besides," Dabi added, shrugging his shoulders, "what kind of a friend am I if I'm not being a bad influence and stuff you full of candy?"

Izuku blinked at him owlishly, "A responsible one?"

"Yep." Dabi popped the P. "Definitely not me."

A thin, wobbly smile appeared on Izuku's face, and he struggled hard to not give Dabi the satisfaction of making him laugh. He couldn't hold it in perfectly, though, and the sound of a choked snort escaped between the lips.

The sound made Dabi cackle.

They continued to walk down the street, taking occasional nibs from their treats, and pointing at whatever they thought interesting. The two walked past a karaoke, which Dabi insisted they won't come anywhere near. Upon asking why, he promptly shoved the entire remaining cone of green ice cream into his mouth, and then winced and massaged his temples from the brain freeze.

Izuku giggled as Dabi groaned, but abruptly stopped when the pre-teen lit his fingers on fire and held them near his head. Normally, he'd point out that's not how brain-freeze works and that his efforts were in vain, but the flickering flame averted his focus away. The fire's light was reflected in his eyes, transfixed as he silently stared.

Dabi did not miss this. A sigh escaped between his lips, and the proximity between the two of them made Izuku smell green tea. "So, what got your head all tangled up?" He asked bluntly.

The boy almost tripped, though it was unclear if it was from surprise or a piece of uneven sidewalk, "Wha?!" He fumbled over his words, "H-h-how could you tell?"

Dabi flicked his forehead playfully, "Because even the world's worst detective could read you like a book!" He jabbed, "I know you, moron. I have eyes, you know." He pulled down his bottom eyelids in a taunt, looking down as the greenette rubbed his forehead.

His expression grew somber.

"Spill. What is it?"

There was a small pause as Izuku debated what to say. He wasn't going to outright lie; he had no real reason either. He still wasn't entirely comfortable with explaining the whole Avatar thing, but that didn't mean he couldn't be honest.

"It's my training." He admitted eventually, and didn't it feel weird for him to do so. How do you explain your troubles with learning how to be the Avatar without revealing you're the Avatar? Better yet, how would he get out of explaining what the Avatar even was? His heartbeat was up, and his breath was cold and smelled of fruit, but he wasn't nervous or excited. Maybe it was the sugar? "I'm kinda stuck, and it made me frustrated."

"Stuck?" Dabi parroted, his lips pressed together, and his eyebrows were scrunched as if he had a hard time processing such a thing.

"Yeah," The boy nodded, "I've been trying to do something new with my… 'quirk'... But so far, I had no luck." He pouted and began to scratch his head. His locks were warm and damp, and it made him itchy all over. "My teacher says that whatever's blocking me is in my head. But I don't know. It sounds too simple."

Izuku didn't say anything after that, instead, he stared at his ice cream with enough intensity to melt it. He hoped it'd melt. That'd be the greatest sign of progress in his training he ever made.

Unfortunately, he had no such luck. The rose-red treat remained cold and solid, its outer lair only slightly shimmering thanks to the sun.

Dabi shrugged his shoulders after a while. "Well, maybe it is."

Izuku craned his head to face Dabi so fast his neck made a crack sound.

"Excuse me?"

Dabi disregarded Izuku's death stare like it was a dime a dozen.

"No, seriously." He said, solemnly enough to get the boy's undivided attention, "You have a tendency to get in your own head." He tapped the greenette's temple for good measure, "Think about it! So far, what you tried didn't work. Maybe the right thing to do is go in the opposite direction and make it simpler."

Izuku hummed, holding his chin in thought, "I didn't think about it this way. Maybe it is worth a shot…"

Dabi snapped his fingers, giving him the finger guns, "Now that's what I'm talking about! Get out of your shell! Go see the world! Maybe join Jirou and me at the arcade more than once a month!"

Izuku rolled his eyes, "Ohh! So that's what you were after."

Dabi cackled maniacally, "You caught me!" He raised his hands cordially, before jabbing a finger in Izuku's chest. "But seriously, come with us to the arcade more. You don't have to worry about the money, covering you isn't making any dents in my wallet."

"I don't know…" Izuku replied meekly, "it still feels like I'm using you."

Dabi facepalmed. "You make zero sense sometimes, you know that?" He groaned, before pointing to himself with a thumb, "I offered to pay for you," he then pointed at Izuku, "you didn't ask for it. You are not using me; I want to spend time with you and have fun. Anything else I need to drill into. Your. Thick. Skull?" The redhead finished by poking Izuku repeatedly in the face.

The boy rubbed his cheek for a moment in silence, before a small smile spread on his face. He bowed his head, "Thanks, Dabi."

The redhead was pleased with himself, as evident by the pose he struck. "Yeah, I know. I'm awesome like that." Dabi grinned mischievously, "Now, are you going to eat that ice cream I so generously bought you, or are you gonna keep letting it drip down your hand."

Izuku looked down at his hand, blinking owlishly. Indeed, his ice cream was melting, with sticky, sugary liquid dripping from the cone onto his hand.

"Aw, man" He whined, before he attempted to save the ice cream by eating it as fast as possible. Brain freeze be damned, he had a stronger brain than Dabi anyways.

He took another large nib but found in it something other than ice cream. It was thin, and long, and it made his face sour. He gagged on it, his tongue pushing the foreign item between his lips and out of his mouth.

He took hold of it and stared at it in disgust, "Ew!" He whined. In between his fingers was one, snow-white, strand of hair.

Dabi stared at it with the same expression as Izuku, one of distaste and disgust, before he noticed something. "Weird… the guy who gave me the ice cream had black hair. Where do you think it came from?"

"Does it even matter? I'm not gonna eat a piece of hair!" Izuku said incredulously, flicking the strand of hair away and looking at his ice cream critically for other stuff.

He wouldn't throw it away just like that, that'd be a waste of money.


The soft sound of the creaking door jolted Inko from her fitful slumber. She lifted her head with a start, her hair flattened to one side of her head, and a soft weight 'A blanket?' dropped off her shoulders. She rubbed at her eyes, trying to wipe the sleep off, as she peered into the hallway.

The hall was dark. Too dark to see. The hour was late into the night, all the lights were off, and the drapes were drawn in.

'Weird…' She thought, groggily. She didn't remember turning the lights off, nor did she remember closing the drapes. 'I must have fallen asleep…'

Footsteps, slow and delicate, came from further down the hall. Their owner was deliberately trying to stay quiet, tiptoeing gently in socked feet.

Still, in this death of silence, they might as well have stomped their way whilst wearing combat boots.

Inko felt it more than saw it when the person sluggishly entered the kitchen. They were short of breath, muffling their own pants as they fumbled for the light switch.

They did eventually find it and flickered it on. The kitchen was suddenly flooded with light, and Inko shielded her eyes with a hiss, her drowsiness alleviated somewhat.

Through the gaps in her fingers, Inko saw exactly whom she had expected.

It was Hisashi, standing there in the foyer with his shoulder sagged in exhaustion. He stood there quietly, staring at Inko with bloodshot eyes. He did not speak, nor did he make any other reaction, he just stared, slowly processing her presence.

"Inko?" Hisashi finally asked, and the woman almost cringed from how dry his throat sounded. "What are you doing here?" He said. He thought she would be in bed by now.

The green-haired woman, who had gotten used to the light by now, stretched in her chair and moaned as her sore muscles popped.

"I fell asleep." She yawned, before looking back down on the table. Her mug of coffee, empty, rested atop an empty plate and both were beside an idle laptop. Papers were scattered haphazardly all over it. Some were of her own making, comprised of neat lists and short paragraphs stating her experience and capabilities. Others were foreign, as discernable by their fold marks, and more sinister in nature. The way the words were written on them, big and red, with the letters NTA- or the names of other utility companies- still made her anxiety spike. Finally, there was the best one of them all, or possibly the worst. Inko didn't know, she hadn't opened the envelope yet.

Inko groaned as she began to sort them out, putting the envelope she was dreading to open to the side. "I was going through my resume, and I guess I lost track of time."

She picked through the papers, picking each one by order, and put them all together in a neat stack. Inko tapped the papers against the table to straighten them out and rested them on the table. Then, upon noticing Hisashi didn't speak, she peered back up at him. Of course, he noticed the envelope too. Specifically, he read the stamp pressed on the envelope with the same apprehension Inko had felt.

'Musutafu Welfare Office'

Without even thinking, her arm shot out and she grabbed the envelope before Hisashi could. She held it tightly in her fist, wrinkling the paper with her grip.

She wasn't ready.

Hisashi probably wasn't either, but his eyes were still full of suspense as he gazed at her.

Inko bit her lower lip. She couldn't do it, not yet. She racked her brain for an out, taking in a sharp breath, and blurted out the first thing that came to mind that wasn't the envelope.

"How did the interview go?"

The woman winced as soon as she realized what she said.

Hisashi's shoulders sagged. He tried to plop down his briefcase on the table, but the handle slipped between his sweaty fingers. The briefcase landed in a small thud, but neither of them so much as cringed before the man sat across from her with a heavy groan. Inko suspected as much. She closed the laptop with a sigh.

"About as well as it looks." He said dryly, gesturing to himself.

The man was a wreck. The suit he left in the morning, once neat and immaculate, was now anything but. The fabric became wrinkled over the day, now rough and uneven. The jacket, though still buttoned, was dripping over his shoulders. The shirt underneath was untucked and picked through the collar, revealing it to be moist with sweat. The tie was a different beast entirely. It had become undone, and he had to redo it. The result was not pretty.

If Hisashi didn't already know he botched that interview entirely, he'd be sure his appearance alone had ruined any chance he had of getting hired.

He ran a clammy hand through his hair, frazzled and oily, as he let out a dark chuckle. "That makes number sixteen, doesn't it?" He laughed dryly, resting his jaw on his hand, and wincing when he aggravated one of his fresh nicks. He averted his eyes from Inko. "Man, I can't believe I forgot how hard it is to get a job." Then again, the average salaryman was never the hottest commodity in the hiring market. There was no shortage of those people no employer was looking for, those with no real unique skill.

His focus went back to the envelope his wife still held tightly. "We should open it." He remarked.

"We really should." Inko nodded grimly, now grasping the envelope with two hands, holding it up close to her face.

A bit of silence passed.

"You don't want to," Hasashi stated.

"No."

The man sighed, "Me neither."

But like rarely let one do what he wanted. Inko ripped the envelope open forcefully, tearing and ruining it to pluck the folded paper that was inside. She unfolded it, discarding its wrap, and began to read hesitantly. "Dear Mr. and Mrs. Midoriya," She began. "We have received your claim to receive welfare benefits under the grounds that your household's total income does not surpass the minimum living expense. As stated by the public assistance program's guidelines-" she skimmed over the bureaucratic jargon without much fanfare, tracing her finger over the page for what she was looking for. Hisashi held his breath. "Un-"

Inko stifled.

She didn't say anything. Not a word. The hand that held the paper shook violently. Inko stared at the paper, tears slowly building up in her eyes as silent sobs wracked her shoulders. "U-u-u-unfortunately," she continued reading aloud, whimpering, "w-we are s-sad to inform you your claim has been denied." Inko couldn't read anymore. She let the paper go, now holding her head in her arms as she cried.

Across from her, the weight of the situation settled on Hisashi's shoulders. It was heavy, confining, as it dragged him down the rabbit hole that was his own mind. The man breathed through the fingers rubbing his face, feeling them scrub over the bags under his eyes and coming back wet. They were denied. They were denied. They had to sell off the TV, and so many other stuff, just to apply and they were still denied?! [2] They just couldn't get a break.

"What are we going to do now?" Hisashi asked, no one in particular.

Another sob wracked Inko's entire body. Her breathing was ragged and erratic, and her hair was undone and spread in every direction. Her only solace was that Izuku wasn't awake to see her. To see the eyebags she had hidden behind makeup that now dripped off her face. To see how she cried so pathetically. To see her being so pathetic, unable to do anything but sob over a piece of paper.

Whether from a doctor or the welfare office.

Slowly, Inko's breathing even out. Her head was still nestled in her arms on the table, but now the crying had stopped. Her fingers curled and squizzed at her biceps tightly. She rose up, wiping her face with a sleeve and booting up the laptop again.

"We keep looking."

The sound of rapid typing soon filled the dining room, drawing in Hisashi's attention to watch his wife. Her eyes shone with determination.

Not lifting her head, as if she sensed his gaze, Inko began talking, "The welfare office isn't going to help us Hisashi." She stated matter of factly, her voice still somewhat wet. A thought crossed her mind, and the faces of her family and friends flashed in her head. No, they couldn't rely on them, either. They all needed their money for themselves. Their parents needed the money for pension and the Jirou's had a daughter to raise. Even if they spurred them some, it wouldn't be enough. This was their problem. "We need to help ourselves."

Slamming down on one final key, Inko turned the laptop around to show her husband. On the screen, a job site was open, showing a modified list of different applications from numerous companies. Hisashi narrowed his eyes, he didn't recognize any of those companies. He didn't apply to any of them yet.

The greenette woman tapped the screen with a finger, "Look at all these ads." She said, "They all look for the same thing, Salarymen, and women, who are fluent in English. The pay is solid and the hours are manageable. This is exactly what we need."

Hisashi gasped as he scrolled down the list. It just kept going. "Wow," How did she even find so many applications? This was amazing! Hisashi grinned as he began scanning the list, filing all the necessary information for later and already starting to pick favored options.

But his brow creased when he noticed a single common factor between all the potential applications. "Inko," He started wearily, "these positions are all abroad

"But Inko," Hisash's brow creased as he noticed one single common factor "Those positions are all abroad," He said wearily.

"I know," Inko said, "but we're not in a position to be picky. "Sure, we have our savings, but they won't last forever. We also have to pay for necessities, rent, Izuku's education… All this stuff costs money. Money we don't have!" "We have no choice."

"But there's always a choice, Inko." Hisashi argued, hoping his wife would see reason, "We can keep looking here! We may need to take odd jobs for a couple of years, but we can manage it!" He was desperate, and he sounded as much. The notion of going away again, of leaving again, terrified him. A wave of memories flashed in his mind's eye. His son, his precious little boy, lay almost motionless on a hospital bed, broken, battered, and bruised.

Something tangled in Hisashi's gut, the memory almost triggering a defensive reaction. He could feel it inside, blazing and flashing, demanding he do what must be done.

Emerald eyes narrowed at Hisashi dangerously. "Hisashi, you need to be realistic," Inko growled out, her tone gradually growing in assertiveness. "Odd jobs won't be able to provide for us. We need a steady income."

Is she… serious about this? About forcing him to go? He felt sick, and short of breath, as if the burning drive he had within him was sealed shut in a glass flask. The walls were closing in, and the lack of air began to choke the fire. And, naturally, when something is devoid of breath, it craves relief. The fire within Hisashi began to flutter, it willowed and billowed, growing violent. It burned hotter, sucking in all the oxygen it had available in its minuscule containment.

"We don't have a lot of time!" Inko growled. Couldn't he see this?! He has seen the books too! "At our current rate we'll be forced to mortgage the apartment by fall." That is if they'd even find someone willing to loan to them in the first place.

The apartment. That's it! "Then we can move!" He blurted out, a plan forming spontaneously, "We can go someplace else! Where the rent is cheaper; where there's more jobs!" where he would stay with them.

Inko stared at her husband incredulously. "Move? Are you even listening to yourself?" She cried.

"Where can we even go? Our entire family and friends are in this city! Do you want to just uproot from everything and go? Do you really want to take Izuku away from the only friends he had in eight years?" They couldn't do that to him. "And don't even get me started on the logistics!" She moaned, "We can't afford a mover, nor do we have a car! And what about Chima? We can't exactly take him with us in broad daylight. Were you planning on leaving him behind?! You know Izuku wouldn't go anywhere without him!" Literally. Both of them knew they couldn't move Izuku if they tried, not unless he wanted them to. And when it came to leaving Chima, he didn't want to. "We can't just up and leave! Our whole lives our here!"

Hisashi felt his composure crack. As did the glass flask that trapped his fire. The flame swooned.

"Our whole lives are here?" The man repeated his wife, his voice taking an accusatory tone as he frowned at her, "And yet you still insist I leave the country."

Inko recoiled, as if she was hit. "I don't want this any more than you!" She yelled, holding a hand over her chest. "But we both need to what is right. Please" She pleaded, "Think about Izuku."

The fire trapped within Hisashi pulsed with his anger.

Think about Izuku?

Think about Izuku?!

"Izuku's been what I've been thinking about the entire time!" He roared. After what had happened, how couldn't he? Till this day, he would wake up in a cold sweat, a fresh nightmare about his son having plagued him. It was even worse back then, when he was away. At least here the proximity helped him. "He has been through so much already as is!" He argued, "You saw it yourself! What if it happens again? He needs his father!"

"But he also needs a roof over his head and a warm meal in his stomach every day!" Inko shot back, pleading with Hisashi to see her point of view, "I can't give that to him right now!" She hated the feeling of helplessness that flooded her as she said it, but she shoved it down. Instead, she focused on her husband, jabbing a finger at his chest. "But you can! Or at the very least you have a better shot at it! Let's say you stay and fail to find a job here. What then? How will we care for our son?"

He doesn't answer that. He doesn't have an answer.

But the answer doesn't matter. What does is for him to stay. He needs to stay with her and their boy. Their sweet, precious, boy. And yet, Inko urges him on, to leave. She says it's for the best; but Hisashi won't accept it. He can't accept it. Because the mere thought of going away, abandoning them -him- it… it just feels so wrong; his skin crawls and his anger billows in indigestion by just thinking of it, fomenting so much it turns bone-white.

"So is this it?" He asked coldly, grinding his teeth together as the volume of his voice slowly rose, "So you're just going to fold when there's a bit of pressure?! You're just going to send me away?!"

Under all the pressure and heat, the constant lashing of licking wisps against its surface, cracks appear and spread across the flask. Glass could never hold in the fire for long, not when it is destined to grow, and so, inevitably, it shatters.

And the fire rages.

"You're going to send me away?! Without asking for my opinion or even take what I say seriously?! Inko! You're being selfish!"

The woman jumped back as if slapped. She stared at Hisashi for a moment, lost for words. Then, slowly, her brow began to crease and the same expression of anger as her husband's took over her face.

"I am being selfish?! I?!" She shouted, indignant and enraged. "Do you even know how I feel?! Do you?! How it feels to ask you to go?!" Tiny droplets coalesced in the corners of her eyes, soft sobs left her as she yelled her heart out. "I was so happy when you came back! I thought it was a new start! All three of us, finally living together as a family again!" She paused, letting the tears flow, "But now I need to let you go again! I have to force you even though I don't what to! Just so that we can afford to give our son his childhood!" Inko's loud cries died down, now mere quiet whimpers.

She whispered. "And instead of even trying to understand, or trying to help me, you yell in my face and call me selfish."

There's silence. Neither adult said another word.

Hisashi stood frozen. He stared at Inko, wide-eyed in horror, slowly digesting what she had said. He tried to say a word, to speak, but his mouth failed him. His throat felt dry and arid, like sharp rocks in a desert. He caught a wiff of smoke, and, to his own repulsion, he found that it was coming from him. He maw was aglow with his quirk, and smoke escaped from in between his lips.

He must have activated it in his rage.

Inko was still panting from her outburst, her tears still flowing. She didn't look at Hisashi, just as the floor as she struggled to collect herself. Then, she takes a step, and then another one. She stopped in front of Hisashi, and just when the man thought she'd slap him, she walked pass him, down the hall.

He seriously messed up. "I-Inko! W-wait!" He pleads, somehow finding his voice again, but it still came out shaky and stammering. He reaches with his arm forward, trying to grasp something that is long gone. "I-I-I didn't mean t-"

The sound of their bedroom's door being slamned shut cut him off. Inko didn't even look back.

Left alone in the dining room, where it was cold, and dark, his arm was still outstretched and his face frozen. Did he really just say that? To Inko's face? He didn't even mean it! Or rather, maybe this accusation was directed at himself. His knees grew numb and weak, buckling under the stress and shame, and regret that settled where that fire raged just moments ago. He crashed into his chair, his head slammed against the table. It hurt. Good. A long, suffering moan escaped his lips, his head buried in his own hands that tried to rip it apart.

He is such an idiot.

Everything was numb after that. He fell asleep eventually, on that he was sure the next morning, when he woke up on the table. But it appears a few things did happen before, judging by the closed laptop next to him and the stack of papers he remembered were previously in his briefcase.

Although, that was not all. There were a few other things in the dining room with him, stuff that he was sure weren't his doing.

First off was just how tidy the place looked. All the papers he and Inko scattered yesterday (Or was it today?) night were put together in neat stacks. The empty coffee mug and plate Inko left were also gone, and upon peering into the kitchen, Hisashi saw them, now clean, placed on the drying rack.

A warm, fluffy blanket, the one he remembered being on the floor the night before, was now draped over his own shoulders. Meticulously too, whomever put it on him made sure everything but his head was covered and tucked in. He yawned, instinctively snuggling deeper into the blanket and closing his eyes, before he smelled a sweet scent.

He opened his eyes, and sure enough, on a coaster was a mug filled with a deep brown liquid. Next to the mug, was a small rectangle piece of paper. It was folded in half, and so Hisashi couldn't see what was written on it.

With a groan and a moan, Hisashi sat up.

He looked up at the clock on the wall. Seven o'clock. Supposedly Izuku just left for school. Now that he thinks about it, he thinks he heard a shutting door when he woke up. Was it his doing then? It had to be.

He reached for the paper and opened it up. Inside was a somewhat crude drawing of himself, holding the hands of what he could only assume were Inko and his son. On the paper's bottom, scribbled in a familiar handwriting, was a message: 'You're not selfish dad! And mom isn't too! You both just want what's best, so please make up soon! it read.

Hisashi's breath hitched, the steam from the mug entering his windpipes. Izuku heard them last night. Now that he thinks about it, they were kinda loud; poor Izuku must have been scared shitless. And yet he still got up early and took the time and effort to do all this for him, and Inko judging by the note sticking under their bedroom's door.

Hisashi breathed in the steam from his mug, sighing at the sweet scent of herbs and lemon. That kid is way too good for them. He took a small sip, and a smile graced the man's lips in return. It wasn't just the taste, though it was admittedly the best tea he ever had.

His son believed in him, and forgave him, even if he himself thought he didn't deserve it. Was there a better reason to smile? So he won't stop, never does and never will. His son and family were his strength. And, Hisashi thought as he eyed that mug of tea, perhaps they'll also be his inspiration.

But first, he needed to patch things up with Inko.


"So your teacher set you up with a solo performance? That's so cool!" Izuku gushed as he stepped onto the grassy hillside, his trusty pet rabbit hopping after him in a zig-zag pattern.

That was not how Jirou saw it.

"Stop it!" She grumbled, but still followed the greenette and his pet and stepped off the dirt road. She played absentmindedly with her extended earlobes, curling them into tiny, twisted spirals. She let out a frustrated groan, "You're just as bad as my dad!"

An exaggeration, of course, nobody could fawn over her like her dad did, but she needed to get the point across. Fact is, it was not cool. It was the opposite of cool. Just the thought of having to perform with all those eyes on her, staring, judging, made her skin crawl and her body shudder.

A cold sweat appeared on her brow, though it was likely the steep climb up the hill that was at fault.

"If I mess up there'll be no one who wouldn't see it, it'll be so embarrassing." She spoke into her hands, mortified.

"Relax!" Izuku waved her worries off by making a small earth sled. He stepped on, letting Mimi hop on his shoulder, and ski-ed down the hill, running over grass and weeds, building enough momentum to surf up the next one over. Izuku cupped his hands around his mouth like a megaphone, "Your teacher wouldn't have chosen you if they didn't think you were up for it!" He yelled out, watching with a smirk as Jirou ran to catch up with him. "Besides, you perform solo all the time! It's nothing new!"

The girl came to a stop next to him, panting lightly, but otherwise fine. She playfully shoved Izuku's shoulder, causing Mimi to jump off with a glare. The boy's usual rock-solid stance was nowhere in sight when he got pushed back. Giggling, he fell down on purpose, rolling down the hillside like a log and coming to a stop at its base. Jirou laughed too, following the greenette much more gracefully and extending her hand to help him up.

Izuku's hands clasped Jirou's with a clasp. The boy was smirking up at Jirou, ignoring the grass in his hair, a look in his eyes that just dared her to refute him.

The girl rolled her eyes at him slowly. "Yeah." She drawled, pulling Izuku up like he was a sack of potatoes and patting his hair off grass. "My best friend and a Badgermole are exactly in the same league as every musician in the prefecture."

Yep, her teacher was that big of a deal, one of the best in Japan, really. The perks of being the daughter of two successful musicians with a name of their own.

'Don't sell yourself short, Kyoka.' A set of two familiar voices inside her head supplied, 'Remember, your teacher would never have taken you in if they didn't think you had potential.'

She promptly ignored them.

They were both at the edge of a small ditch in the earth, a gentle stream trickling down below. The forest that made out the park stretched to either side of the ditch, though the side the kids came from was more upkept. The other side was more overgrown, with taller trees, and thicker shrubbery on the ground.

Leaving Izuku behind to scoop up his rabbit, Jirou ventured to the edge of the creek. With another step and she'd fall inside. She took the step without hesitation. Her foot didn't even reach its apex when a bridge made of dirt was already constructed there, allowing both children, and the rabbit held in the boy's arms, to cross without issue.

They entered the thick undergrowth. The sound of crackling branches filled the air between them as Izuku tried to think what to say.

She got him there, that was for sure. Maybe he wasn't the best person to give pep talks to, especially ones about performing in front of an audience. The spirits literally knew he became a wreck under the scrutiny of more than one person.

"W-well," He stammered, ducking under a low branch. "Try to think of it this way!" What way? Way to go Izuku! He had to pause, nibbling on his lower lip as he tried to think of what to say. C'mon! All that time with Iroh had to be worth something!

"You're moving up in the ranks! Right?" Why did that sound like a question? Both wondered the same things, but Izuku didn't care, he found his groove. "Yeah! It's an upgrade!"

A step further down her own path. He was kinda jealous, Jirou excelled at what she wanted to do. No problems, no barriers, no nothing. Just a smooth sailing towards her goals.

Unlike him.

Two metal jacks clicked against each other as their owner thought over her friend's words. "Yeah, I guess it is." She murmured.

Only problem is she wasn't sure that was the ladder she wanted to climb. And to make matters worse, she felt guilty just thinking about it. She got a gift, a passion she was a prodigy at. And yet, she wanted more. How much greedier can you get?

Shoving aside the last bit of foliage getting in the way, Jirou revealed their little hiding place, their home away from home. It might as well be, Izuku would probably live here if he had no curfew. The grotto where Izuku kept Chima hidden was nothing special on paper, but all the time they spent there made it more.

Jirou peered inside, her brow raised in a mild surprise, "Chima's already out?" Indeed, resting under the sunlight near the clearing's edge was the Animal Guide himself. That was unexpected. Usually, Chima would only show himself after Izuku called out to him. The thing was quite cautious for a ten-ton beast.

If Izuku was surprised by the odd behavior he didn't show it. "Chima!" He chirped, gleefully, dropping Mimi and making a dash across the clearing to meet up with his pet. He runs and weaves past the obstacles in his way, small and large rocks, leftovers of his training. He grins excitedly, coming in hot on the largest boulder of them all. Crouching down mid-run, he cheers loudly as a platform launches him up and above the obstacle and straight at Chima.

He lends in the thick fur with a whoop, spreading his arms and legs and making angels in the warm fur, their 'fight' from the day before forgotten.

Jirou only shakes her head at him, more than familiar with this ritual.

"Chima? Wake up! We're here!"

Something isn't right. Chima's still asleep, that isn't supposed to happen. Chima should be hopping, reciprocating Izuku's affection with a cuddle or a lick. But the Badgermole stayed asleep, his breath coming out short and rapid.

Mimi ran up to Chima as well, her long, fluffy, ears drooping. She eyed Chima, her teeth clattering nervously as she let out worried whines.

Izuku felt a pit down his stomach. "Chima?" He calls, hesitant as he slides down the beast's underside. The boy steps up in front of Chima's muzzle, his smile long faded and replaced with worry.

"Chima, are you alright?" An arm is extended, and a palm presses against Chima's wet nose.

Izuku almost yanks the arm back. The boy's palm burns at the contact.

Chima's burning up. The skin on his nose is hot, unbearably so, but Izuku refuses to let go. "Chima!" He squeezes on the nose gently, trying to wake Chima up; the nose is wet and sticky, smelling like something rotten. A guttural moan escapes Chima's gullet, and Izuku can feel his heart clench and his knees growing weak from hearing the misery in the sound.

Empty eyes flutter upon and stare blankly at Izuku's, unseeing. Empty eyes stared blankly at Izuku's. They are bloodshot and puffy, a thick layer of moist clinging to the surface and slowly dripping from the corners.

The Badgermole takes a large sniff, loud and wet. Izuku takes a step back. Recognition flashes in Chima's eyes. He opens his mouth, his tongue, swollen and blistered, poking out.

The stench hit Izuku like a sucker punch. It smells like stomach acid and rotten meat; like a colony of overgrown bacteria that has consumed an entire store and kept going. It was so, so wrong, coming from a living being. It's the smell of sickness, and suffering, and it takes away any joy Izuku had within him.

The tongue washes over the boy's face, smearing foul smelling drool all over his it. Izuku had no heart to step away, but he still wanted to gag.

Jirou cringes but refrains from voicing her disgust out of worry. She steps next to Izuku, beginning to fuss over the Badgermole as well. "Poor thing," She laments, scratching Chima's snout, "Do you think he ate something funny?" Jirou tried to be helpful.

Unfortunately, all she did was make Izuku go paranoid. He continued to fret over Chima, hopeless and clueless as to what to do.

And as he fruitlessly went through a mental checklist of whatever Chima ate recently, he failed to notice the change in the area.

The air around them shimmered; lightheadedness suddenly grasped at the kids, as if they stood at the edge of a cliff, peering over a void so deep it went against the laws of nature itself. Jirou blinked at the source, watching the air ripple with a blue glow as the fabric of her world momentarily bent. And then, just as quickly as it came, the small tear in space time mended; and in its place, stood a figure they had both grown accustomed to.

A look of utter relief washed over Izuku's face. "Sensei!" He bellowed, pleading eyes gazing up at the old man; surely his teacher would know what to do. He gestured to the downed Badgermole frantically. "Chima's sick!"

Iroh, a bit perplexed by his student's urgency, followed Izuku's pointed hand towards Chima.

"Oh my…" Iroh frowned at the sight, stepping closer to Chima. An ethereal blue hand rubbed Chima's muzzle, but he gave no reaction. "You poor thing…"

A twinge of hope flickered in Jirou's chest when she saw a flash of recognition in Iroh's eyes. "You know what he has?" She asked, hopeful.

The old man nodded somberly, "Yes, I'm afraid I do. It was a common illness in my lifetime. I remember a time when it spread rampant in the Ba Sing Se zoo; it pained me to watch all those animals suffer…"

A small twinge of sympathy strung in Izuku's chest, and he instinctively clutched the fabric over his heart. He forced those thoughts away; those animals were long gone. "How bad is it?" He asked, scared.

"Let me reassure you, it is nothing life-threatening, Izuku." Iroh soothed in a gentle voice.

'Thank goodness!' the boy almost fell to his knees from the relief that washed over him. He let out a sigh, a shuddering, weak, exhale that was just one step away from a relieved whimper.

"But still, the illness is anything but pleasant."

Neither Jirou nor Izuku needed that statement to know. Another pathetic whine escaped from Chima's gorge, a long, drawled-out cry that pitched in volume the longer it went. It was like a scream, a shout for help and for someone to come and relieve him of his suffering. But Izuku couldn't do that. The boy could only watch as his best friend in the whole world was fighting his illness and suffering alone.

Iroh had once told him that the bond between an Avatar and their Animal Guide, between him and Chima, was one of the strongest any two living beings could share. Supposedly, it was inseparable, keeping strong even when apart and miles away from each other. So strong, that once their time came, they would stay together as spirits for the rest of time, transcending their own mortality.

Is that why he was hurting so much? Even when he himself was uninjured and healthy? Was he feeling what Chima was feeling? Is this pain, this raw feeling in his lungs and this thick smog in his head, Chima's and not his? Was he feeling it through their bond? A part of him hoped so. At least that way he'd be sharing in Chima's pain.

But even that wouldn't solve anything. Sharing in Chima's pain wouldn't lighten it; Chima would still suffer. Izuku clenched his fist and bit the inside of his cheek. Green orbs, for the first time, focused entirely on something other than Chima's prone form.

"Is there anything you can do for him?" He pleaded, trying to be strong.

"Hmm" Iroh hummed, scratching his beard as he mulled something over, "Most of the medicines I know of are too weak for a creature Chima's size, but I can think of one that could help him." He murmured, and the elation that flooded Izuku almost made him forget the old man wasn't tangible so he could hug him.

"You'll need to gather a few things for me and then I'll guide you through the process of making the medicine."

Izuku paused.

Chima coughed again, rolling onto his side in a great effort to avoid the sunlight and escape to the shade. He didn't even complete the roll before succumbing to exhaustion, not even the tip of his claw made it into the coveted shade. Mimi stayed by his side, one of her extended ears rubbing his snout affectionately, in a rare display of tenderness.

The boy turned to look at the city in the distance, his back now to Chima. Already it felt wrong; like a vice grip on his shoulders that pushed against him. And every single part of him wanted to give in.

But what else could he or Jirou do? Nothing.

He couldn't.

Izuku brushed his shoulders, and somehow the grip tightened even more. "Okay," He relented, his voice a little choked, "we'll go. What do we need?"


"Sorry!" An annoying, familiar, voice squawked out as its owner rammed through the group of children.

"Hey! Watch it!" One of the kids barked.

"Ew!" another wrinkled his nose, What's that smell?!"

"Hey, wasn't that Deku?" Yubi called out, pointing at the retreating green streak.

Surely enough, Deku's green curls were unmistakable, even with the ever-enlarging distance taken into account.

"You're right… What's he doing here?"

That was unexpected. They've been walking this path from school for years, and in all that time, not once had they seen Deku here.

Hell, nobody in Aldera ever saw Deku outside school hours. It was like the earth had swallowed him whole the minute the bell rang.

And yet, here he was, zooming through stores frantically in a mad search for something none of them could guess.

That didn't mean they didn't try to, mind you, it was fun to speculate. A present for his girly friend, a sledgehammer to destroy the new plates at the cafeteria, a blood sacrifice for whatever eldritch horror that lunatic worshiped… Truly, anything was on the table when Aldera's resident freak was a player.

The same freak who couldn't spend a week without breaking anything; who would be caught staring at nothing and spacing out during classes; and the same kid who would talk to thin air like there was someone there.

The freak, weirdo, problem child every kid bar one at Aldera knew to stay the hell from, lest they catch his freakiness.

And now? That hedge headed hooligan just continued to live up to his reputation.

How?

He skipped over the convenience stores and ran past restaurants and clothing outlets. He would occasionally bump into other shoppers. Young and old, knocking off groceries and the like with incredulous shouts.

The only thing Deku offered in compensation was a meek 'sorry'. Yeah, right. Who would accept his apology, of all people?

There was a mad look in the freak's eyes. Even from a distance, they could see his irises tremble and shimmer in the afternoon sun. Tears were leaking from the corner, but Deku didn't bother wiping them off. If they didn't know any better, they'd say Deku finally gave up on trying to stop his crybaby tendencies.

He went inside one of the florists, but it was no regular florist. Nobody but old hags went in there. They always sold only the ugliest, foulest smelling abominations for a ridiculous price. Truly, only stuff insane old farts would be dumb enough to buy.

Deku stepped out of the store, a bouquet of floral monstrosities in hand. They reeked, so, so, bad. So much so that the few people who weren't immediately thrown off by his acidic stench gagged and covered their noses.

Then, like a flash of lightning from the blue sky, he bolted into the greengrocer across the road.

The next time he emerged, this time stuffing a muddy root vegetable into his bag, he was much slower. He stopped at the store's front, holding his bag in front of his face with shaking hands and peering inside.

What other dubious treasures were held within?

Well, it wasn't like Deku would just show them if they asked.

Seemingly satisfied, he nodded to himself before making a beeline outside the shopping district. More than likely he was going back to wherever he and his girly friend went after school.

A mischievous grin appeared on one of the kids' faces. "You thinking what I'm thinking?"

But, maybe, there was no need to ask. They deserved to know, didn't they? After all, they put up with Deku for years now. Surely, their compensation was way overdue.

"Oi!" Another one called the others' attention. "Where's Katsuki gone off to? Wasn't he with us?"

Similar words emerged from the other kids in the form of murmurs. Katsuki was gone, and none of them even noticed. Yubi wanted to roll his eyes. So they finally noticed. Took them long enough.

At times like these, he had to agree with his boss-Ugh, friend… they were such extras.

"Don't worry about it. He probably saw a villain fight and bailed to watch." Wouldn't be the first time.

The others seemed satisfied with the explanation. Just in time too, as Deku ran past them again, kicking up winds in their faces and not even noticing.

Their curiosity, having festered for years now, began to bubble and slush away within their minds. That obnoxious, annoying clawing at their minds demanded they act, no was not an answer. They were given an opportunity, and the prospect got their giddiness bursting at the seams.

That same, maniacal grin appeared on the other children's faces as well.

Time to solve a mystery.

And maybe harass Deku whilst they're at it.


"I'm back!" Izuku yelled, bursting through the bushes with a mighty leap. Leaves and branches trailed in the air behind him, falling off his scalp and clothes like snowflakes.

He bolted through the glade, falling to his knees near Chima's where he finally came to a stop.

The greenette paid little mind to his rubbed-bare knees, much like his lacerated elbows and scratched cheeks. He didn't care. None of that mattered right now, the only thing that did was Chima and the medicine.

Jirou was already there, much like him winded and scuffled, a bag of her own resting near her.

Both kids stared up at the blue ethereal form of Iroh.

"Good, you're here." The old man said, trying to give Izuku a reassuring smile. But Izuku didn't smile back. He looked over Iroh's head at the sick Badgermole, his mouth a wobbly line and his gaze hard enough to drill rocks.

Iroh took a deep breath. "Let's begin."

Armed with a mortar and pestle he created with his Earthbending they began to work. Iroh showed them what to do; how to pluck the petals, leaves, and seeds from the flowers they bought and how to chop the vegetables they gathered; how to crush and dice them All together. Add water and stir vigorously until the color becomes cohesive.

The result was a chunky, dark green mush that had a thick, bitter aroma that doused the entire glade in its miasma. It sloshed up and down in the mortar. The tiniest movement made by Izuku as he picked it up made the slimy substance spill over the edges.

It was by far one of the most disgusting things both children had ever seen. But, if it would cure Chima, or at least ease his suffering, then Izuku would have drunk a hundred servings of the stuff in one sitting himself.

"C'mon Chima," the boy begged as he brought the mortar closer to Chima's lips, his hands shaking "drink up".

Chima, only half conscious, lifted his head slowly. He tried to sniff at the mortar, a wet noise akin to a loud snore came out. His nose was clogged. Nevertheless, the beast's maw opened and his tongue came out. A green drop slashed on its tip.

The tongue reeled back.

Chima made a disgusted face and started hacking away, trying to be rid of the foul taste in his mouth.

The boy's heart clenched in worry. "Chima no!" Izuku cried, holding the mortar tightly in one hand and trying to pry Chima's muzzle open with the other. "It'll make you feel better!"

This illness may not have been deadly. Chima's life may not have been in danger. Izuku knew that, but still. Just the fact Chima was suffering had hurt him so, so, badly. He couldn't explain it, not really; it was just something he felt, in his stomach, in his scar, where even still it felt hot beneath the compression sleeve.

So Chima may not like the taste of the medicine, and maybe Mimi gave him a glare for continuing force-feeding it to Chima. But he made up his mind, he ignored Mimi's glare, he ignored Jirou's shout from behind him, and soldiered on. Chima's health was the top priority right now.

Until it wasn't.

A strong shove to the shoulder forced Izuku to drop the medicine. The mortar rolled to the floor, it's contents spilled everywhere. The boy turned to look, incredulous, and found Jirou, fed up, but with eyes wide in alarm.

"Midoriya!" She shouted out in panic, her arm extended as she pointed at something, "We have company!"

Confused, but shaken by his friend's tone, Izuku followed her finger to the clearing's edge.

What he saw made his blood freeze.

There, standing together in a line facing them were a group of four kids the same age as them. Izuku and Jirou knew them! They were the kids who always hung around Kacchan! But Kacchan was nowhere in sight, it was just them. Here. Here where they weren't supposed to be. Where Chima was.

Dread pooled within Izuku's stomach. How did they get here? More importantly, how did none of them sense them coming?! All four of them, kids and animals, had a means to do just that! And yet here they were, caught with their pants down in the worst possible time. How could they be so STUPID?!

A spitting image of the other's expression, each kid had a look of abject horror etched onto their faces, their stare unblinking and face frozen. No words escaped their throats, only the low gurgles of a dying animal came out of open wide jaws. One of the kids, Yubi, pointed at Chima, and the actions somehow made Izuku feel like his own heart was being jabbed with a fork. The pointing hand shook badly, so much so Jirou thought the vibrations should've broken his bones by now; but the kid didn't scream. At least, not from any pain.

"MONSTER!" One of them yowled, matching with the rest by screaming their heart out in fright. They all swiveled around, stumbling, and almost falling, trying to run away.

NO! Dread squeezed Izuku's heart. They can't leave! If they do… then Chima will…

Without even thinking, the boy stomped his foot on the ground and spread his arms high and wide.

Obeying his commands, the earth groaned and crackled as multiple slabs of earth shot out of the ground in the path of the terrified kids. The slabs joined together, no crevices between one another, to create a massive wall of stone.

The fleeing kids rammed against the wall, banging and clawing at it as they peered up at the sky above it helplessly. The wall remains strong, looming over them, imposing. They slowly turned around, gaping at Izuku who still remained in the same pose. They didn't know he could do that, that his 'quirk' was this powerful. Part of it was his fault, he never bothered flaunting his full capabilities at school. Or anywhere it seems, judging by the awed gasp that came from Jirou.

"D-D-Deku?" One of the kids wept, his knees clanking against one another as he hugged the wall to his back. "Wa-" he swallowed, "was that you?"

They all stared at Izuku and Chima, horrified. Izuku looked back, equally so. His heart roared in his ears. Chima was in danger! Instinct kicked in, and before he had the chance to think, he backed closer to Chima. Still facing the kids, but palm pressed against his friend's snout.

Chima let out another guttural groan at the contact, a warm response for the act of protection in Izuku's eyes. From the kids' point of view, though, it was something else entirely.

All of their faces turned bone white, one even collapsed against the wall under the weight of his own terror. They whimpered and cowered, tears streaming down their faces. "W-w-we're gonna die" one of them whimpered, "Deku's gonna have this thing kill us!"

A nervous snort came out of Jirou to his right, "What?! No! Midoriya would never do something like that!" The idea was as ridiculous as it got, but suddenly it was no laughing matter; no matter how hard the girl tried to hide it with a choked chuckle. "How did you even reach that conclusion?!"

"Be careful, Izuku." Iroh warned, hearable and visible only to the greenette. "They are scared, which will lead them to become desperate. There is no telling what they will do."

A cold sweat dripped down Izuku's back, but that didn't do anything against the feeling of a million fire ants crawling up his spine and shoulders, stinging and biting. Suddenly his own shirt felt stuffy. "C'mon, you guys! He pleaded, begging to be heard out. "Chima's harmless! I swear!"

Their prayers fell on deaf ears. One of the kids, a relatively new addition to the squad with no real noticeable features, picked up a stray pebble. Stray whimpers left him as he held the stone with shaking fingers, his fight or flight instincts were screaming; only, thanks to Izuku, there was no flight.

Wailing, he chugged the stone at them. Izuku paid it little mind. A stone of all things wouldn't hurt him; an Earthbender. Not to mention the kid was probably a lousy shot, anyway.

He didn't even hear the stone whooshing in the air; but he did hear the meaty thud a second later. They hit Chima. Unsurprisingly, the stone bounced off his hide harmlessly, but the gesture itself spoke louder than its outcome to Izuku. They were willing to hurt Chima. They tried to hurt Chima.

A rumbling sound came from Chima's abdomen, and the Badgermole gave out a pained, guttural groan as he writhed on the leaf bed in a delirious half-conscious state.

Obviously, Chima's misery was a result of his sickness; but something about that sound; Chima's suffering moan took Izuku, plucked him by the heart and strung him along. He was no longer in the park; suddenly, he found himself somewhere he didn't want to see again. His heart beat faster as more adrenaline coursed through his veins with each pump, his breath coming out short and swift.

The other kids, too, interpreted Chima's groan mistakenly.

Maybe it was panic clouding their judgment, or maybe they just thought too highly of themselves. Either case, that simple, childish action was enough to rile them all up. They were all still shaking, but now they were on their feet, their fists clenched tights and their eyes glaring dagger at them through a veil of tears.

One made a step forward, then another, and another. And soon, they all charged, shouting out wet battle cries.

But Izuku didn't hear children shouting, he heard something else. The voices of men roared in his head, shouting, cursing, promising a painful death with their sizzling voices. The cacophony drowned out everything else; Jirou's yelling, Mimi's squeaking, and Iroh's attempts to reach him and calm him down. Only the shouts, and Chima's cries, remained. Only Chima remained behind him, an army stood before him; led by an imposing figure who reeked with a musk of gunpowder and ash.

"Leave…"

The boy croaked out, his throat felt like it was filled with sandpaper and shards of glass.

The air was suffocating with the unpleasant weight of smoke; Izuku found himself struggling to breath in the dry, burning air. He felt the heat filling up his inside, refusing to leave his body with his exhales and instead billowing hotter in his gut. The heat coursed through his body in pulses, his chest contracting and expanding as each wave was delivered. The pulses drummed against his skull, blood roared in his ears as his temper flared in tandem.

How dare they try to hurt Chima? What did he ever do to them? Nothing that's what. He was sick, defenseless; he couldn't do anything to them even if he wanted to; so, what was the point?

They wanted to hurt him, that's what, his mind supplied. Chima was a freak to them, just like he was. And he knew all too well what they thought of freaks.

"…Chima…!"

Each pulse sent a wave of heat up Izuku's torso to his shoulders, slowly pooling down his arms, along his bloodstream like a river of lava. The waves joined the other built-up energy in his arms; where the condensation billowed and trashed like a ravaged animal; causing a burning pain to blossom across his scar. His fingers curled tightly, flexed like claws as his palms glowed a bright orange. He hugged them close to his chest. It hurt, it hurt more than anything Izuku had ever experienced. No, there was one thing that hurt just as much, and now, he was reliving it as the heat pierced his skin; this time, from the inside out.

"…ALONE!"

The roar from Izuku's throat joined together with the fire's, both becoming one and the same as the boy thrust his hands high and wide. Red, yellow, and orange, bright and hot, filled his vision, dancing and expanding in front of him like a tidal wave.

The fire went as fast as it came, sizzling off almost quietly if not for the shrieks and whimpers it left behind.

And Izuku, still reeling and shuddering from the experience of using Firebending for the first time, was left gaping in horror at what he had done.

The kids were all on the ground, scattered in a semi-circle around him, their toes almost touching the burnt crescent that was cauterized into the ground. They all looked up at him in a shocked horror, their eyes moist and lips quivering as fresh burn wounds littered their body.

A crunch from behind him signaled Mimi slowly backing away from him. She backed towards Chima, who regained a semblance of clarity, and for the first time, regarded him with a new emotion; fear.

His best friends in the whole world were scared of him.

A pained gasp came from Izuku's right; and the boy found himself unable to look away.

Jirou was on the ground too, crying as well. She nursed her hands in each other, uselessly poking at the new pink patches of raw skin, trying to ease the pain that still flared.

He did this. He hurt them. Scared Chima and Mimi. Hurt Jirou. It was all his fault. It's-

"DEKUUUU!" A voice blared in his ears, followed soon by something tackling him to the ground. It was Kacchan. The ash blonde was livid, almost foaming at the mouth as he towered above Izuku's prone form. He took a fistful of his shirt, lifting his head. They were face to face, Kacchan was glaring daggers at him.

"What did you do?!" He demanded, "WHAT DID YOU DO?!"

Izuku couldn't formulate a response. He tried to talk, to say anything, but his tongue remained tied, and his gullet felt like it was on fire. He could only stare back into Bakugou's eyes, tears filling his own as the blonde pressed for answers.

"Well?!" Bakugou roared, manhandling him "ANSWER ME!"

"Hey!" Another new voice called the blonde to attention by shoving him off Izuku, "What do you think you're doing?!"

The blonde and redhead proceeded to wrestle with one another, Bakugou surprisingly holding his own despite the size difference.

Staying frozen where he was, Izuku remained indifferent to the ensuing fight and swears thrown about by the duo. Guilt has long since clogged his windpipes, filtering short, ragged breaths as the boy continued to stare at his crying friend and horrified animal partners.

Kacchan was right. Just what had he done?