"Alright, kid, let's see what you got." Ms. Fujimaki said, accepting Izuku's stack of papers. He ended up writing her essay in half the allotted time. Condensing sixty-odd pages of tight writing into fifteen pages sounded hard, but it wasn't. Really, it was just a puzzle with lots of leftover pieces. The notebook had everything he needed, all he had to do was slap a thesis at the top and keep his thoughts organized.

All overwriting, repeated ideas, and typos had been eradicated. He leaned back into his chair, patient, but not nervous. In fact, he felt quite confident. He'd never written anything cleaner or clearer in his life. Still, he felt a trickle of sweat snake its way down his spine when Sasami gave him a raised brow.

"Spaces between paragraphs? Really?" She said. Izuku blushed.

"Uh, the email about essay standardization d-didn't say anything about—"

"Yeah, because it's common sense. How old are you anyway?"

"I'm—"

"Don't tell me, I don't care." She cut him off, going back to her reading. While she was reading, she occasionally marked things off with a variety of pens. Most of them were green or blue, but Izuku was hyper-aware whenever she even glanced at the red pen.

They sat in comfortable silence for about fifteen minutes while she read, leaving Izuku to stir in his thoughts. Glancing behind him, he saw that there were a few students casually talking in the far corners, as well as that same scarred heterochromatic boy from last week. They made eye contact, but the boy looked away before anything came of it.

Slouching in his chair, Izuku pulled out his phone and read the most recent text from Setsuna.

Setsunasaurus: Good luck! Hope you do well. Anyways, I've got a big test today, so I won't be able to chat until school lets out. Call tonight? Video?

Smiling, Izuku shot back an affirmative, on the condition that she'd show off her quirk for him.

Without Setsuna, the only other person he could text was his mom. Since she was at work, Izuku spent the rest of the time fiddling with his phone. Reading the news, reviewing his upcoming training days with Nighteye, and skimming hero videos filled his rare moments between training and thinking. He ignored the way the back of his head burned like someone was watching him. With several personalities in his head, he had gotten good at that.

"So," Ms. Fujimaki asked after a while, "this is quite the essay. It's rough around the edges still, but there's a clearly defined shape to it. I appreciate the cited sources especially. You have no idea how hard it is to get adults to cite, let alone teenagers." She said. Izuku nodded, expecting a longer speel. The woman surprised him by set his essay down and slid it to him.

"You're going to continue to write, rewrite, and rewrite that essay again until it's perfect. Once I'm satisfied with it, I'll be done with you." Sasami said. Izuku looked down at his essay in confusion.

"But… I don't know how to make this better. I put a dozen hours into this! I can't do better without at least another hundred hours!" He said, panicked. Done with him? Had he already wasted Nighteye's time and money? Tears of stress welled up in his eyes as all the effort he'd put into his essay hit him like a truck. He looked at the paper in his hands, sniffling; wasted effort, he supposed. All of it. Sasami gave him a flat expression.

"I mean… yeah? Of course, it's gonna take you hundreds of hours. It's a thesis; I'm going to show you how to do it. That's how teaching works, kid."

Oh, Izuku thought. He wiped away his tears before they had the chance to spill.

"S-so… you're really teaching me?" He asked. Leaning back in her chair, the professor sighed.

"Well, I wasn't joking about how hard it is to make people cite their sources. Besides the paragraph spacing, I honestly wouldn't be able to tell that essay apart from one of my regular students'." She said, pausing to sip her drink. "Your schedule doesn't line up with mine, though. I'm a busy woman, you're a busy, but flexible, brat. So, here's what I'm thinking."

Sasami proceeded to explain to him her thought process on how their meetings should go moving forward. The woman taught mostly morning classes, and while she was free directly after lunch, her day revolved around that break. Having Izuku take up that time would drive her wild. So, her compromise was thus:

"You need one-on-one instruction, and I need to give one-on-forty instruction. I can't tolerate you taking up my break every day, but I think we could manage a few days a week. That depends on if you agree that you'll be a second TA on those days I can't spare."

"What would… how would being a TA work? Can I even do that, since I'm not a student?" Izuku asked. Sasami waved him off.

"I'm the most qualified professor in this joint; no one will care if I let some brat listen in on a quarter of my lessons. If they do, I can just throw my weight around a little bit. All I'm asking is you just fetch me some papers, write some emails, hand out pamphlets, stuff like that."

Izuku shifted in his seat. He liked the offer—scratch that, he loved it. It was the opportunity of his life, to study with an actual professor. The only problem, though, was the logistics. His stub itched.

"That sounds great, but… uhm…" Izuku said, glancing between Sasami, his arm, and the ceiling. "I, uh. You're asking the amputee to carry things around? And type?" He asked, his cheeks flushed and eyes upcast. The professor coughed, planting her feet back on the floor.

"Oh, oh yeah. Well, I'm sure you would be able to figure something out, but yeah. How about you just be my lab rat and we call it a day?"

"That… works for me. Thank you so much." He said, his hand relaxing in his lap. He kept his gaze locked onto the desk as he did an awkward sitting bow. He didn't see the way her eye trailed his prosthetic, or how her own hand ghosted over her face.

"No problem, kid."

[x]

If Izuku was honest, humiliating himself as Sasami's paperboy might've been easier. The first time he'd been in the classroom had been deceptive. No one paid him any mind as Professor Fujimaki bounced across the room as she delved into the complexities of how quirks affected DNA, always moving, never stopping. She'd barely introduced him, only confirming his continued presence for the rest of the semester.

The second time, however, had been totally different. She actually used him as an example, forcing him to turn his quirk on in increasingly complex ways. In a vacuum, it wasn't too bad. Most of his quirk training was exactly what she asked of him. Someone would yell at him to do something with Smokescreen while he did increasingly complex adjacent workouts. Multitasking, complexity, and scale were all avenues of exercise he was familiar with.

Having an audience, however, made it nearly impossible to perform at his best. Standing in front of forty-odd students and trying to show off his quirk, something he was already shy about, was nervewracking and stressful. He could feel their judgemental stares bear on him when he wasn't looking.

Who was this kid? Why is he here? He didn't need to be able to read minds to know what they were thinking. Still, he had agreed to this job, so he tried to suck it up. So long as he paced himself like Dr. Fujimaki said, he'd be fine. He could be brave for an hour and a half.

On the plus side, he'd already learned a lot. While he got the feeling he'd stepped a little deeper into the technicalities than he was familiar with, he wasn't lost. In fact, Izuku had a grasp of everything they spoke about, just to a more basic extent. Remedial classes weren't even necessary, since he still got private lessons every few days.

All in all, it was everything he expected it to be and more. Nothing really surprised him; sure, he was learning things, but nothing contradicted his previous understandings. Nothing shocked him.

Then the white and red haired kid marched up to him and introduced himself.

"Hello. My name is Shoto Todoroki. My quirk is Half-Cold Half-Hot." The boy said, his voice flat. Izuku malfunctioned. Todoroki? As in Endeavor Todoroki?

"Hello… M-my n-name is Izuku Midoriya. My quirk is Smokescreen if you hadn't heard." He said, almost unable to get the words out. The Todoroki boy nodded, turned on a dime, and marched back to his usual seat across the room. Izuku blinked; Sasami was in the bathroom, and the other TA was nowhere in sight.

Having never had such an abrupt conversation, he didn't know what to do. Panicking, Izuku stumbled after the boy, reaching a hand out to grab his wrist.

"Woah! You're cold!" Izuku said, letting go of the boy as soon as the thought registered. Todoroki turned back to him, his face unreadable. Every action the boy took seemed to go in slow motion, like he was carefully considering every movement.

"Yeah. Feel my other hand." He said, offering a hesitant wrist. When Izuku poked it, he gasped.

"Woah! You're warm!" He said. Todoroki blinked.

"Yeah? Half-Cold Half-Hot. It's in the name."

"Wait, so do you have two different generators for each half or one more flexible generator with two halves built for different kinds of outputs? Are your heat resistances constrained to your sides or are you just thoroughly regulated throughout?" He asked. Todoroki blinked at him uncomprehendingly.

"Sure. I'm not really into quirks like that." Todoroki said. Though he didn't turn away this time, Izuku could feel the boy's patience slip further and further away. He didn't know why he wanted to talk to this guy; really, he should go back to reviewing his notes. Something about the boy just pulled him in.

"T-that's cool. Why are you in a quirk college then, if you don't really care about quirks?"

"My sister is a sophomore, and my tutor is her friend. I'm no genius type like you." Todoroki said. Izuku sputtered at that, raising his hand to deny it. The half-and-half boy's eyes flicked to his unmoving arm for a millisecond before locking back onto him.

"I'm no genius; I mean, I'm a little advanced, but the only thing I'm actually okay at is quirk theory. I'm not even officially enrolled." He said. Todoroki was silent for a while, staring holes through him like he was swiss cheeses. Izuku shifted his weight back and forth, uncomfortable with the scrutiny. Finally, the boy sighed.

"I don't really know or care much about you, but I'm you haven't done anything wrong. My dad is a different story. He's always been kind of a bastard, so I'll just tell you." The boy said, deliberate but slow.

"Uhm…?"

"For whatever reason, he's curious about you. He even corrected me when I screwed up your name in front of him."

"O-oh? And your dad is… Endeavor, right? The Number… One Hero." Izuku said, his throat feeling tight. The number one hero, Endeavor… Number one thanks to Izuku. He felt a small pit open in his stomach. Did he know about him from All Might? Was he mad, curious, or even thankful? After all, the man was notorious for challenging All Might's position as the best. Maybe… aiding him in his promotion put him on the man's radar. Todoroki didn't seem to follow his line of thinking, but by stepping back a bit, he knew something was off with Izuku.

"Bingo. Anyways, I'm out. Chika's disappeared on me, so I think I'll go home and grind out geometry. Stay out of my dad's books if you can help it." Todoroki said, before leaving to retrieve his backpack. Izuku let him, lost in thought.

From what Todoroki had said, Endeavor was a bastard. Izuku didn't know much about the man other than a few tidbits, but he definitely remembered the headlines from a few years back when his wife "moved" into an institution. He shuddered; if the Todoroki house was abusive, and the man knew Izuku by name, then he should probably steer way out of the kid's way. That was what logic told him. His gut said otherwise.

So, sucking down all the negativity that'd bubbled to the surface, Izuku caught the boy's sleeve when he tried to walk past him. Holding the edge of his phone out, Izuku gave him his best smile.

"I-I'm really busy, like all the time, but you said you were working on geometry? I could maybe help you if Ms. Chika bails on you again."

Todoroki looked at him like he was an alien, but didn't blow him off. An awkward silence infused the air between them as the boy seemed to contemplate the pros and cons. For a brief two seconds, Izuku worried the cons would outperform the pros, but it seemed the prospect of having help with geometry outweighed the idea of doing it alone. Caving, Todoroki tapped corners with Izuku's phone, a new contact popping up for each.

He didn't say another word to the green-haired boy before marching straight out the door, the opposite direction Izuku normally went. Not knowing what to do, he decided to just go back to looking over his notes. Sasami and he had discovered an interesting aspect about the smoke of Smokescreen, and Izuku was excited about exploring it. If it was true, it would drastically change how he trained and utilized the quirk. His notes were mostly with tests, and then hypothetical workouts.

About five minutes after Todoroki left, Chika and Sasami returned, chatting up a storm. The younger girl laughed, before turning to her work corner and pausing. Crying out in surprise, she whipped her head around to Izuku.

"Where's Shoto!?" She asked, now looking all around for her charge. Izuku cringed.

"He, uh, left."

"What!?"

[x]

It was the subsequent session that Izuku finally got to test his quirk out. Most of the time, when they spoke about quirks, it was in two ways. Hypothetical quirks were like brain teasers or pop quizzes. They were essential, in Sasami's opinion, in measuring his understanding of their subject. She hit him with them constantly, even breaking from her normal micro-lectures to do so.

The second type was case studies. Real, concrete examples of the theoreticals they spoke about in and outside of their private sessions. If hypotheticals were yoga, then case studies were powerlifting. They'd go over hero profiles, ex-convicts, Meta Ability exams from centuries past, and much more. They were the meat and bones of Izuku's education, and the greatest case study was the ongoing one of Izuku.

Izuku already knew the basics of his quirk. In fact, he knew more about the quirk than Sasami did, despite her better general comprehension. It was a shame that she didn't know about One for All. A person like her might kill for a simple explanation of what Izuku went through on a daily basis.

Sentience carried on after death through centuries of quirk-hopping. Having multiple quirks in one body. The sheer magnitude of his generational strength. He was like the poster boy of a quirk revolution; in a vacuum, keeping himself secret felt awful. Nighteye and Gran Torino had made it clear to him, however, that their powers were private. Lying to an expert's face was exhausting. Thankfully, his explanation of having a stamina-to-energy converter in his chest pacified the woman. Still, she was suspicious, and Izuku tried to keep her off his trail as much as possible. It was the one thing Nighteye had asked him to do, in exchange for his funding.

There was one thing, however, that had even slipped Izuku's notice. As soon as the past wielders stopped hiding from him in his dreams, he was going to grill En about it. He could, barely and sloppily, control the smoke after he emitted it.

"Alright, simply push your last emission to the left." Sasami said. Sweat rolled down his forehead as he tilted his head, concentrating. Unfortunately, he didn't have a psychic connection to it like Setsuna did with her body. The smoke moved a few inches at most.

In his friend's case, her power had three distinct aspects. She could regenerate, she could break into pieces, and she could control and feel through them like drones. When asked how she controlled or felt through them, she had laughed. To her, the difference between their bodies was like wires and wireless. Her nerves operated on a wifi-like connection to her brain, whereas a normal person would die if they were unplugged.

Izuku had no such thing. Instead, if he had to give it a metaphor, it would be a rapidly-growing child and parent relationship. For a while after emitted, the smoke listened to him; with enough willpower and physical direction, he could guide the smoke how he wanted. However, after they both reached a certain point of separation, his ability to control it fell exponentially. It was like a kid growing out of codependence.

"Hmm. Take a breather; take your notes, drink some water. We'll compare in ten." Sasami said, scribbling on a clipboard. Izuku nodded, relaxing. He wanted to try and disperse the cloud between them on his own, but Sasami beat him to it. Without looking, she flicked on an electric fan, still scribbling with her off-hand.

They spent half the session like that; testing out the limits of his quirk, designing theories, then testing them. It left him a little breathless when it was all said and done, but he'd recover by the time he left. Most days, he was fine to exhaust himself here, since his training took place in the morning. Izuku wrote, scratched out, and rewrote his notes while listening to a clock tick by. After a time, Sasami spoke up.

"You're like a conductor."

"Huh?" He asked. The parent-child comparison was relatively new, but deviating from it now felt wrong. Izuku's stomach did a little twist; would they have to scrap today's findings already?

"Like a music conductor with a rebellious orchestra. You technically call the shots, but more often than not, a musician goes against the grain. With millions of gaseous particles coming out of just the tip of your finger, your symphony will inevitably become muddled. It's basic statistics." She said, still scribbling.

"I-I thought I was more of a fath…parent?" Izuku asked, too embarrassed to call himself a father.

"You are, but you can be both. You could be something else, too. Not every truth is exclusive, kid. The faster you get that, the better off you'll be."

Izuku sat on that for the rest of the lesson. Even when they moved on to different exercises and even when they moved on from Smokescreen, he was thinking about it. Simultaneous truths? It hadn't ever really occurred to him before; but then again, he knew two things could be facts at the same time. In practicality, there was no difference between the two, yet the terminology sent his head spinning.

He thought about his mother. She was a hard worker and a mom. Those were simultaneous facts. He toyed with his personal definitions of fact and truth, contrasting each in his brain. What was the difference? Inko Midoriya… he loved her. More than anything. Was that a fact, or a truth?

Looking up at his teacher, he considered her. She was a U.A. graduate, yet she wasn't a hero. Those were facts. Sasami was the daughter of an idealist therapist and a colleague of a cynical hero. Facts, again. His eyes trailed her face; her left profile was pretty. That was an opinion… or was it a truth? He imagined sitting down with a lie detector and being asked if the woman was beautiful, and he imagined what he would answer.

If he said yes, thinking of her left profile, would it also say yes despite him knowing of her scar? If he said no, thinking of her right side, would it deny it, with him remembering her left? It made his head hurt. She was beautiful, yet she was ugly; but was that objective or subjective, and did it matter? She was generous, yet she was abrasive and pessimistic.

Yes, he could recognize both things at once, but thinking about it gave him heartache. Izuku gave one last look at the woman's missing eye, wondering what happened to her. If she could be subjectively beautiful to one person and subjectively ugly to another… was that a simultaneous, individual-based truth? Did that logic… apply to him?

"You're staring," Sasami said. Izuku exploded into a blushing mess, dropping his forgotten notes.

"O-o-oh my god, I'm s-so s-sorry—"

"It's fine, kid. You get it too, right?" She cut him off, offering him a look you didn't usually give to creepers who stared at you. He didn't know what to say, instead fumbling over his vowels and consonants like a moron.

"I-I-I d-d-don't…" I don't know what you mean, he tried to say. Her expression didn't change, but her lips tugged downwards a smidge. She tapped a finger against the edge of the raw flesh on her face.

"Stares. Of course, I don't see half of them—but one eye is enough to see plenty. You get them too?" She asked. Izuku's mumbling slowed to a stop, his brain still running a mile a minute, but now for different reasons.

"N-not as much with the p-prosthetic. I used to not wear it, but your dad told me it'd be better if I didn't have to deal with all the visual b-baggage." Izuku said. Sasami hummed a bit.

"He told me the same, though we both knew walking around like a pirate would generate looks either way. I decided to skip it." Sasami said. Izuku's eyebrows shot to his forehead. It was surprising; getting a prosthetic had helped him get through some of his hardest times. While she had said that eyepatches wouldn't do much for her, he wanted to ask why she didn't seem to have done anything else whatsoever.

He couldn't bring himself to, however. Sasami had such a strong personality that he couldn't guess the consequences; he could only go off his own experiences. Talking about his arm always hurt a little, give or take some depending on the person he was speaking to. Honestly, he doesn't know if he's ever had a serious discussion about it. He wasn't sure he could. Even Setsuna didn't know the full story; only his mentors did.

Recklessly asking Sasami about her disability would be rude and uncalled for by someone so intimate with her plight. Every day he got more suspicious that she wasn't as comfortable in the injury as she presented, but he held his tongue. If… it had something to do with her retirement as a hero, who was he to demand answers?

"Question. Why do you want to be a hero even though you're missing an arm? Isn't that just a waste?" Sasami asked, despite his own reservations. "You've got real brains, kid. Why not just become a scholar?"

Izuku choked, not prepared for the question. His eyes fluttered, images flashing in his mind's eye as his world darkened for that brief instant. Crumbling buildings, the helicopter's roar, and a million drops of blood. A tree covered in red liquid, three green-haired women, and action figures.

Why. It wasn't ever something he really thought about. Izuku was much more of a How guy. Why? Why not? Why would someone want to be a hero? To give back to the community, of course. To hold up the less fortunate and say "You're Safe!" To feel pride and satisfaction in a better world.

To repay a bottomless debt.

"I have to become a hero, ma'am. It's the only way." He said, chin to his chest.

"What was that? I could barely hear you." Sasami asked. Izuku straightened, pulling his gaze from the floor to meet her eyes.

"I said that I have to. I must make the world better." Izuku said, sitting taller than he felt. Sasami stared at him for a while, saying nothing. She took a sip of her tea.

"You could make the world better by becoming a leading scientist in our field. There's no shortage of quirk specialists, sure, but there's always a shortage of geniuses. You've heard of the Singularity?"

"Of course."

"Then you know how much we're going to need knowledgeable people soon. So, again, why? Putting all that genius towards, what? Even getting to the top fifty might be out of reach with that arm of yours. It'd be more cost-effective to devote yourself to the books."

One for All churned in his stomach. Izuku resisted her logic; it wasn't her fault, she didn't know. Not about his duty, his dream, his debt.

"S-sorry. I love quirks. They're my favorite thing; it's beautiful to see the uniqueness in people. I'd like to be like you, in some ways. Being able to do this all day sounds fun, but it'd be easy. Easy isn't… in my cards." Izuku said, his mind beginning to wander.

"That's the dumbest thing I've ever heard. When the cards are stacked against you, you play a different game. You don't double down." She said, leaning forward. Her orange eye burned into him like a branding iron, as if trying to convey her intent directly into his flesh. Izuku's throat was dry and his knuckles were shaking as he held back the whirlpool of unwanted thoughts swirling in his head. One for All continued to churn within him, but ever so slightly began to go counterclockwise, fighting the motion of his negativity. Warmth flickered behind his eyes, phantom sensations tickling his palms once again.

"Y-you know, that's a good point," Izuku allowed, swallowing down a voice crack, "but you're m-missing something. When the odds are in your opponent's favor, your victory comes with a much better prize."

The professor was silent at that. Izuku could feel the argument still raging within her, but she never let it slip verbally. The only indication that she was still thinking about his future as a hero was the way her spare hand ghosted over her scar. He wondered if the wound was why she quit and if it was why she wanted him to follow in her footsteps.

He resolved himself to ask Nighteye about it—eventually. Izuku wasn't sure how to ask such a delicate question, nor did he think he deserved to know. Everyone deserved their privacy; he wouldn't breach hers if he didn't have to. Still, after several weeks of studying with her, he was starting to realize he didn't know very much about Sasami Fujimaki and her beliefs at all.

[x]

AN: Ok, this is the last chapter I have written before posting Nine. I almost escalated the end section into an argument, but I figured this rang better. The only thing I'm struggling with in this story is setsuna and time skips. I really don't want to skip important parts in both their lives and friendship, but I really want to get to the school arc ya feel? Plus, Setsuna goes through a whole arc. I like to think they get to school before chapter twenty, but that is very, very wishful thinking. I haven't even brought in the villain yet, ya feel? Lord this fic will be a chonker if I commit to this shit.

Review! I have a vague idea on how I'm gonna reach the school arc, but any ideas are appreciated, even if they'll prolly only confuse me. I live for your validation.