Disclaimer: I do not own Bleach or MHA

Rating: T

Warnings: brief self-deprecating thoughts (from Izuku for like 2 sentences), and disordered eating

Words: 8,675

Notes: I'm alive! Migraines have been kicking my butt, so it's been difficult to work on fic in-between working my actual job. I have them chronically, but they've been incredibly worse as of late. Like, every day worse. So thanks for all of your patience! Hope you all enjoy the chapter cuz we're heading to UA!

Chapter: 7) A Trip to the Principal's Office

Monday, April 29, 2X75

Ever since being accepted into UA, Izuku had looked forward to attending classes every day. Some classes he liked more than others, such as Heroics over Law, but appreciated them all the same. He had been so close to not getting in. A Quirkless nobody. A useless Deku.

But ever since meeting All Might, his life had turned around for the better! All Might gave him his Quirk, helped train him, and ultimately gave him most of what he needed to be prepared for the entrance tests. Now that he was part of UA, he wanted to make the most of it, learn everything he could, and then some!

So when it had been announced that they would train in the Unforeseen Simulation Joint (USJ) to mimic real-life experiences in different geographical areas, he had been excited…yet nervous. He still did not have a handle on All Might's Quirk without breaking his bones. It's not like he wanted to break his bones! It was just that…he didn't see any other choice. Aizawa-sensei had already talked to him about the consequences of such drastic measures, and it had made him feel guilty and disappointed in himself because the man had a good point. Constantly having to rely on others to help him once he broke his bones was neither fair nor stable.

Aizawa-sensei was perhaps one of the few teachers he had had so far in his life that seemed to care about not only his students but Izuku specifically. (The only other ones had been his second-year elementary school English teacher, Inoue-sensei, who never discriminated him for being Quirkless and, in fact, encouraged Izuku to find fun English books to read so he could learn English in a way that worked for him; and his fourth-year elementary school Art teacher, Hado-sensei, who found Izuku drawing in his Quirk analysis notebooks and often gave tips and pointers on how to draw clothing to improve his Hero costume sketches.) Aizawa-sensei only gave Izuku a hard time when, in retrospect, he deserved it. Even then, the 'hard time' that he gave him was mostly trying to correct or improve something that might be detrimental to himself…

…Like breaking his bones when using his Quirk.

Long story short, Aizawa-sensei was an adult and a teacher that Izuku respected. Never mind the fact that he was an amazing Underground Pro Hero. He may have only taught them for a short time before USJ, but Izuku actually had high hopes that Aizawa-sensei was going to be a teacher he could actually trust.

So to have class without him, it bothered him.

Classes without Aizawa-sensei were…odd.

They hadn't been in school long, but with how intense and hands-on the lessons had been so far, it had felt like they all had been going to classes for at least six months. Every day Izuku saw one of the other senseis walk in the door to substitute for Aizawa-sensei, anxiety and worry made his hands wring themselves.

Midnight-sensei was an interesting sub. Izuku already knew what he was getting into with her as she already taught them Art History. She never had a boring class, so her subbing homeroom for Aizawa-sensei never left them with a dull homeroom period. Ectoplasm-sensei subbed one time, but he mostly gave them work that was already built into one of Aizawa-sensei's lesson plans. Then there was Mic-sensei.

Mic-sensei was…trying his best.

Izuku loved having Mic-sensei as an English teacher. English was one of his favorite subjects. Inoue-sensei's help when he was younger definitely made learning easier, which in turn, had helped him with All Might's English press online. Sure, he could use Google to translate, but there was always satisfaction when he could read English himself, translate it, and understand it most of the time. (Some of the slang still got him, what with American slang changing all the time.) Mic-sensei's classes were always bright, fun, and exciting, which kept them all focused and engaged. Quiz reviews were turned into games and study sessions sometimes turned into rounds of English Jeopardy. Fun stuff!

Mic-sensei treated homeroom and some of the other classes Aizawa-sensei would teach the same way: engaging, fun, and interactive.

Or at least, he tried to.

All of them could tell throughout the week that Mic-sensei had been struggling. They didn't catch it at first, but after the second day, it was apparent. Izuku noticed that his smiles were strained, his eyes were dull and exhausted, and he sometimes lost focus in the lesson when he thought they weren't paying attention. Izuku wasn't sure about the relationship between Aizawa-sensei and Mic-sensei, but Aizawa-sensei being hurt and in the hospital was making Mic-sensei pretty down. His cheers weren't as exuberant as they used to be, his greetings in the morning were a tad forced, and sometimes when they saw him turning the corner of the halls, they could catch his smile fading just as he turned out of their sight when he thought no one was looking.

Izuku had been talking to All Might about the whole thing when the Pro Hero had time. And speaking of All Might, he seemed to have something on his mind, too! Did something happen to make him so preoccupied? Was All Might taking Aizawa-sensei being in the hospital like Mic-sensei? Or was it something else?

Izuku's mind was his greatest strength, but also his greatest enemy. Good for analyzing, bad for not overthinking things. Like right now, for instance. Instead of sitting at his desk waiting for classes to start and talking with his friends, he was stuck in his own head thinking about everything that had happened.

What was going on with the Villains? How did they know his class and Aizawa-sensei were going to be there?

What was Aizawa-sensei's status? Was he okay? Were there medical complications?

How was All Might doing now that his time limit had been shortened? Was it just going to keep dwindling day by day, or would it fade hour by hour? I should have moved faster. Then he wouldn't have had to drain his time.

Who was the mysterious Kurosaki? Where did he come from? What were the teachers doing about him? He imagined UA had something to say or do about the situation since he showed up in the middle of a part of their campus.

Kurosaki protected not only himself and his classmates but also Aizawa-sensei. Hell, he even was about to fight All Might of all people because he thought the Hero was an enemy. An enemy! Who in Japan didn't know who All Might, the number one Hero, was?! It just didn't make any sense to Izuku. Thinking about it, Kurosaki did fight alongside All Might, so was that the reason why All Might had been so distracted recently?

If that was the case, then why—

"Deku-kun."

"Eep!" He let out a startled cry when someone poked his shoulder. He looked next to him to see Uraraka looking at him with a raised eyebrow and a little smirk on her face. His noise also attracted the attention of Īda who was adjusting his glasses as he leaned against Sero's unoccupied desk that was next to Izuku's. It was currently 8:15, so they had ten minutes before homeroom started. Everyone was milling about the classroom wrapped up in their own conversations, so no one else noticed Izuku's noise of surprise. (Thankfully that meant Kacchan didn't either since he had been pulled to Kirishima's desk by him and Kaminari.)

Īda chopped the air with his free hand as he gestured to Izuku. "Midoriya-kun! You have been muttering for the past one and a half minutes, which is thirty seconds more than your usual!" Before Izuku could comprehend that Īda paid attention to Izuku enough to know how long he usually spent muttering to himself, the taller boy's expression softened. The hand he was using to chop lightly came down on Izuku's head. "What is preoccupying your thoughts?"

He felt heat rise to his cheeks and he looked down and fiddled with his fingers. Would they find it weird if his brain kept going back to USJ? Was it normal to worry about a teacher this much? Izuku didn't have many stellar relationships with teachers in his past—Quirk discrimination being the primary reason—so he wasn't sure what a normal relationship with a teacher was. Inoue-sensei and Hado-sensei were the rare exceptions. Should he just keep his worries to himself, or would that further make them worry about—

A tap on his forehead startled him and broke his train of thought.

Uraraka had her head tilted and her hand still raised. "Are you okay? You seem really distracted."

"I, uh," how was he going to put this? "…Well, have you guys been thinking of Aizawa-sensei? O-or uh, you know, seen how Mic-sensei has been?"

Uraraka and Īda exchanged looks for a moment before looking a bit uncomfortable. Oh no, was Izuku wrong to assume that they thought like him? Was this a social faux pas? 1

With a glance at the podium at the front of the room, Uraraka puffed a cheek as she thought about it. "Now that you mention it," she started softly, "I admit that I have. As scary as Sensei is, I do like him. Seeing him all busted up like that a-and all that blood…" She shook her head almost like a dog would shake the water out of its fur as if she were trying to dislodge the visual, then slapped her cheeks. "Ugh!"

"I feel the same as Uraraka-kun," Īda said with a frown. Arms crossed, he looked down to the floor like it could give him some mental reinforcement. "About Aizawa-sensei and Mic-sensei. Thinking of how easily those terrible Villains came onto our campus is…disturbing. As for Mic-sensei, he doesn't seem as…"

"Energetic?" Izuku offered.

"Happy?" Uraraka said.

With one of his hands tucked under his crossed arms, Īda's other flat hand didn't move as extreme as a chop but went back and forth like a lazy martial arts metronome. Izuku idly wondered if Īda was on the spectrum2 and these hand movements were how he stimmed. "I was going to say genuine, but those work, too. He has reacted worst out of all the other faculty and staff. Perhaps he has a closer connection to Aizawa-sensei?"

They all mulled it over for a second. It felt weird because, to be truthful, Izuku had never thought about what his teachers did in their free time outside of teaching, which extended to whom they spent their time with.

Just as he was about to comment on it, he was distracted by a small explosion (small and far enough that it didn't trigger a flinch in Izuku) from the other side of the room followed by Kacchan yelling something about…video games? From Kirishima's and Kaminari's wheezing laughter, they were probably the cause of his yelling.

"That Bakugō," Uraraka sighed in annoyance. "I would have thought he would think it's too early for all the yelling, you know?"

He's always been loud no matter the hour of the day. Ever since we were small…

She and Īda started talking about Kacchan, and it was this turn in conversation that caused Izuku's attention to drift for a moment. He glanced around the room to see what his other classmates were doing before landing on the door.

And what he saw nearly caused him to fall out of his chair to keep it in his line of sight.

He thought he heard Mic-sensei's voice drifting down the hall, but it was just on the other side of far away to hear clearly. Following the faint voice was a flash of brightness. Not a light, not a reflection from the windows in the hallway, but something that was on a person.

It could have been a student or a visitor's outfit, but Izuku had only seen that bright, orange-ish strawberry-blonde color once before. At USJ.

That had to be Kurosaki!

He leaned all the way forward and to the side of his desk to catch sight of long hair just disappearing past the door of their classroom. A second, and oh shit, he realized that he should have been paying attention to how far he was leaning his body out of his chair because he felt himself tumbling out of it. It was only two pairs of hands that kept him from making a fool of himself early in the morning.

"Midoriya-kun!"

"Ah, Deku-kun, careful!"

Uraraka used her Quirk to make him weightless before he hit the ground, which made it easy for his friends to get him up onto his feet. She deactivated it once he was back upright. When Īda and Uraraka helped him back into his seat, he had to meet both of their bewildered faces. Not only them. A quick scan around the room showed a few of his classmates' attention having been drawn by his commotion. The staring began to make him sweat as memories of previous schooling years began to make their way to the forefront of his body's memory. Be small. The judgment was coming. I messed up, I messed up. They're thinking I'm weird and what do I say? What do I say,whatwhatwhat?

He waved his hands at them, and the words just vomited out of his mouth. "Ah, sorry, everyone! Clumsy me, clumsy me! I, um, I thought I saw a," saw what, saw what? "a cool new costume! Yeah, a very interesting design for someone's costume."

Kacchan scoffed and kicked his feet on an empty chair. One of his shoes caught the edge of the chair on the way up, making a loud clack sound that made Izuku want to wince at the loudness of it. If he didn't get his anxiety to calm down, he could tell he was going to start getting overstimulated. "Damn Deku. Can't tone down the nerd levels this morning? Too early for that shit!"

"Dude!" Kirishima flashed his sharp teeth at him in a grin while sending a thumbs up, "That's super manly that you can spot details like that so quick! Especially so early on a Monday! But, you know, just be careful not to hurt yourself next time."

Most of the others simply shook their heads, laughed, or brushed off his outburst completely. He sighed in relief that nothing else happened. His fingers tapped against his thighs, still feeling jittery.

Uraraka had a worried expression on her face. Īda was nearly close to reaching over to check that Izuku had not hit his head…Which he'd done before when Izuku tripped over his own feet in his excitement to show them a new All Might video he found on YouTube. To be fair, it was about an interview All Might had done years ago after traveling to America that Izuku had somehow, someway not seen before.

"…Are you sure you are alright?" Īda asked hesitantly.

Izuku nodded fervently, green hair flopping into his vision. "Mhm! Yep, I'm A-okay here. Just the, uh, the person's costume! It gave me some ideas for the future."

The bell rang to signal the start of homeroom.

Izuku could thank all the powers that be for literally being saved by the bell.

Uraraka and Īda looked like they wanted to say more, but moved along with everyone else. They all went back to their assigned seats and got their supplies ready. Izuku didn't miss the glances they shot at him. He did feel a little bad for lying to them, so he acquiesced and mouthed, "later," to them.

Taking out his notebook—sometimes there were important announcements during homeroom that he didn't want to forget!—he wondered who would be coming in today. Since Aizawa-sensei had been in the hospital, they've had several teachers subbing for homeroom and some of the other classes he would normally teach. Once they had Ectoplasm-sensei, another time was Mic-sensei, and all the other times had been Midnight-sensei.

And that was exactly who stepped through the door.

"Good morning, everyone!" She said as she walked to the podium Aizawa-sensei would teach from. She set down her binder, sliding it on the little shelf in the podium, and smiled at the class. (How did she have so much energy this morning?) She had her normally wild black hair in a braided bun today, and Izuku thought it was nice and that it made her red glasses stand out. "Love seeing those bright and shining faces on an early Monday."

The resulting collective groan was expected and made her laugh.

"It's okay, I'm with you guys there. Coffee," she lifted a sealed tumbler that she gave a little shake. It had two stickers, one a lipstick mark and the other a cat and cockatiel. "Now! I do have one announcement for today and just some general stuff to lay down for the week since Aizawa is gone at the moment. Then, I'll be with you guys for a sensational session of Japanese!"

Another look towards the hall and there was no sign of Kurosaki nor sound of Mic-sensei.

Izuku bit his lip.

If that actually had been Kurosaki in the hall with Mic-sensei, then what could be the reason for his being here? He wasn't sure, but Izuku wanted to speak to Kurosaki sometime. Other than asking about his Quirk—Quirks?—he wanted to thank him for saving him. His mother did not raise an ungrateful son.

For now, though, he had to focus on homeroom announcements. He pushed Kurosaki to the back of his mind.

As expected after working with the man for several years (and teaching him for three before that), Nezu heard Yamada before he saw him.

"And now to meet the head honcho who runs this whole place!" Even with the door closed, it was easy to hear Yamada's enthusiasm. A knock followed soon after.

Nezu got up from his desk chair and moved near the middle of his office past the sitting chairs near his desk. He did not want to present a barrier, physical or otherwise, between himself and a newcomer like Kurosaki. Just before he could call out for them to enter, his ears twitched toward the sounds behind him.

He turned his head to see the butterflies, who had previously been docile for the last several hours, begin to pick up in activity. Their dark wings fluttered as they flew around the cage that they were in. Nezu had moved them to an empty spot on one of his shelves on his bookcase over the platform Kurosaki's swords rested on. He moved them there to shield them from the harsh direct sunlight from the large windows. Kurosaki's swords, which were no longer in the glass class, clattered against the floating metal platform as they began to shake. Energy from the swords had shattered the case not long after he had called Yamada and Aizawa to check on Kurosaki in the hospital. Now, they made their presence known through their noise, even louder than before.

A shift in the air made his fur begin to stand on end. It was the same as when he had called Yamada. What he was sensing from behind the door was the same as the energy that had been first exuded by Kurosaki's swords then as they were emitting now. The heaviness was not present, but his instincts…

He had felt this before, and his instincts were telling him to be careful, be careful, be careful.

Another knock followed.

Nezu took a calming breath and gathered his composure. Clearing his throat, he said, "Come in, come in!"

In came Yamada first, bright and energetic, which made Nezu happy to see considering how stressed and worried he had been while Aizawa was in the hospital. Bright-eyed, he waved to Nezu. Next followed Aizawa, quiet as was his usual demeanor but a little slower than usual. Seeing him wrapped with bandages as he was made his chest tighten for a few beats. It was a reminder of what his former student went through, but Nezu had to remind himself that it was a double-sided reminder. The other side was proof that Aizawa lived and was still amongst them. Injured, but alive. Aizawa nodded to him, hands in his pockets.

The swords on the floating platform stopped moving.

And right behind Aizawa was Kurosaki, who closed the door behind him.

Nezu had to suppress a shiver.

Kurosaki was…different than Nezu had expected. In appearance, he looked the same as he had appeared in the photos and videos captured from the USJ incident. He could feel his mind already working to figure him out. His bright hair was lanky and a bit greasy—most likely from stress rather than lack of personal hygiene. There was a bright streak of white blooming from one of his temples to run through the length of his hair—either genetics or stress and trauma. Nezu was leaning towards trauma from what he understood of the profile they were building on Kurosaki. His face was sallow around the cheeks—malnutrition. From the reports from the hospital and from Yamada, Kurosaki was suffering from long-term dehydration and malnutrition. This fact only furthered the idea that Kurosaki had been in a…troubled and traumatic situation before ending up here.

Dressed in simple sweatpants and a sweatshirt, he could have been mistaken for a young man studying a little later in his life at university just having pulled an all-nighter. But Nezu knew better than anyone else that appearances were not everything. Although he had a calm front, Nezu's instincts were homed in that this person in front of him was different. How different, he was not sure.

When Kurosaki came in, his eyes flicked around from the windows to the door that led to a storage closet. Scanning for exits, possible ways out. Back straight, arms loose but attentive at his sides, he was the opposite of someone who lacked situational awareness. A trained fighter, indeed. Aizawa had been correct in his observation.

As soon as Kurosaki's gaze landed on him, Nezu could see him stall and blink.

This, Nezu was used to. In fact, after so many years of catching people off guard, he delighted in pointing out his appearance.

A smile across his muzzle, he gave a jaunty wave. "Greetings! That's right. It's me, Nezu, the one who could be a dog or a mouse or a bear, but more importantly... I'm the principal!"

Kurosaki looked at him in confusion, but to Nezu's surprise, he seemed to quickly brush it off. (He hadn't been surprised this much in a long while. Kurosaki might prove to be a continued source of surprise if the day continued like this.) "A-Ah, hello, Nezu-san."

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Kurosaki-san. First, I would like to extend a sincere thank you for not only rescuing our students but also Aizawa-kun here. Without your help, I am afraid the risk of casualties would have been too high. Yamada-kun and Aizawa-kun have told me a bit about your situation." He gestured to the empty seats behind him. "Would you like to sit and talk? I have tea."

He watched as Kurosaki took a deep breath before speaking as if he were fortifying himself. "…Thank you. I—"

Another shift in the air, and Nezu's body yelled at him to be prepared, be prepared, be prepared. The same feeling of difference that he was getting from Kurosaki was radiating behind Nezu's back from the floating platform obscured from sight by the jut of his bookcase. Near Kurosaki, he could see Aizawa and Yamada adjust their postures as their eyes moved from him to Kurosaki.

Kurosaki's eyes darted to Nezu's bookcase even though the platform was hidden from sight from the angle Kurosaki was standing. "Where," his voice shook, "are my swords?" he asked without preamble.

Nezu was taken off guard by the sheer desperation in his voice. Like a man dying from dehydration asking for water.

But, it was this same desperation that made Nezu pause. Why was he so frantic about his weapons? Speaking with his two former students had given him some context to Kurosaki's situation and mannerisms. However, in the same breath, they had discussed Kurosaki's potential as a danger as any trained fighter could present to be dangerous. Aizawa had used himself as an example. Was Kurosaki like Aizawa, having honed his dangerous skills to help others, or was he putting up a front of helping, only to use them to get back what he lost? Nezu wanted to believe it was the former situation.

And yet, the chimera was all too familiar with the darker parts of humanity.

The rattling of metal shaking against seemed near ominous.

"Please, I—" Kurosaki's throat bobbed in a hard swallow, and his hands clenched and unclenched. "My swords, one large and one smaller. Where are they?" His voice never raised much louder than a whisper.

Nezu made eye contact with Aizawa. Dark hair bobbed as the man nodded. Alright then.

Turning his body to gesture just behind his desk, he raised his paw towards Kurosaki. Despite the otherness that the man seemed to exude and the wariness that Nezu needed to realistically keep, it was true and plain to see that Kurosaki was someone in need.

Kurosaki was hesitant, that was plain as day to see, with a wariness that Nezu saw in the mirror every day. So, Nezu offered his paw again. A gentle emphasis. Patience was a virtue that he was well-practiced in through years of helping and nurturing young students.

The man in front of him slowly reached out his hand before jerking to a stop, curling his fingers barely away from his body. Nezu was patient, though. He waited. He stepped a bit closer to Kurosaki with his paw still a guide, an olive branch. It paid off as Kurosaki slowly continued to extend his hand with a shyness that Nezu would not have expected. After a moment, a much larger, calloused hand clasped lightly around his much smaller paw. From this close, it was easy to see the dark double-X tattoo around Kurosaki's wrist broken by scars. And the metal shackle band. A kind he'd never seen before except in previous stills taken of Kurosaki.

Nezu wanted to sneer in disgust. The cruelty of others…

It was a comical sight, a short chimera man like himself leading a much taller one like Kurosaki as if the newcomer was a lost child, but, well. Animals were more in tune with many things that humans were not.

What was a person in need if not a lost inner child crying for help?

It was only a few steps to step around his desk then three more to turn around to behind the jut of his bookcase. In less than a second, Kurosaki's hand was absent from his paw.

The man let out a gasp that sounded more like a cry half-swallowed. His steps flew as if air friction or gravity had no consequence on them. Nezu's ears easily heard the shaky inhale Kurosaki took as he laid long, gentle fingers on the cloth-wrapped swords. He saw his lips move to form a word, but there was no sound to accompany the movement. Kurosaki's hands trailed along the lengths of both blades. He hunched over them like a wilted flower encroaching on water. Another choked inhale, a shaky exhale. The sheer reverence that Kurosaki was displaying was not a manner of behavior that Nezu had expected.

Suddenly, his mind flashed to the video of Kurosaki being spat out of Kurogiri's warp gate. A stranger from an even stranger warp gate wrapping his arms around foreign black blades. The image of him clutching them to his chest like they were precious, like they were the most important things in the world…

High Specs always kept his mind working. This was no different. What was so special about these swords?

He got his answer sooner than later.

The air became charged with energy, like the moments before a lightning strike. He took a step back. His fur stood on full end, which sent shivers down Nezu's body. Looking back at Aizawa and Yamada, their surprised expressions told him that even they could sense it, too. "Kuro—"

They were cut off when black energy began to emerge and swirl around the swords Kurosaki was touching. First, the energy was like tongues of glowing blackness, silver and gold flickering at their corners. Licks of crimson flared here and there. The energy seemed to breathe. In its exhale, the cloth wrapping around both swords began to unravel and float around the now-revealed shiny, black metal.

"W-What the—?" Aizawa's normally mellow face was wide-eyed in shock. His hand drifted to his capture scarf.

"What the heck is that?" Yamada's glasses caught the reflection of the energy but did nothing to hide his own stunned eyes.

All of them watched Kurosaki take a deep, shuddering breath as he lifted the blades as if they weighed next to nothing. The energy, now having coalesced and grown into steady streams, trailed up Kurosaki's arms and body in glittering blackness. Even with energy Quirks, Nezu had never seen one like this. The energy seemed alive, almost like it had a mind of its own. Streams of silver and gold were sewn into the blackness, and Nezu nearly gasped at the beauty of it. Like he was seeing starlight. Kurosaki gasped, his grip on his swords tightened in reflex, and the energy wrapped around his body like a swirling wraith.

(One hand on his capture scarf, Aizawa took a step forward to reach out to Kurosaki, but Yamada held an arm up to stop him…despite looking worried for the orange-haired man himself.)

Before exploding outward.

Nezu, Aizawa, and Yamada were quick to guard their heads in the face of the energy. It pushed them back but did not injure them. Yamada was able to stand solid, but Aizawa had to take a knee in order to keep balance. The man still wasn't fully recovered. Nezu, due to his smaller size, had to hold onto Yamada's pants leg. They were okay. The windows, however, could not be said to be spared the same. The black power had enough force to shatter the windows outward, spraying broken glass everywhere as if it were children's craft glitter.

The alarm Nezu had rigged in his office sounded, which only added to the whole cacophony.

"Are you okay?" Yamada asked loudly to Aizawa and Nezu to be heard over the shrieking of the alarm.

"Yes, I'm fine, I'm fine," Aizawa said, standing back up.

Nezu let go of Yamada's pants leg now that there wasn't such power blowing him away. "I'm okay, just ruffled." He went over to Kurosaki who had not let go of his swords. Or had the pain been so much that he had just kept clenching like one does when affected by an electric current?

What were these swords to him? What did they do to him?

Kurosaki straightened up with a groan. His hair hid his face from sight, but after he raised his

head they were able to see that he was okay by first appearance. Nezu noticed that despite everything, Kurosaki's grip never weakened once. "Ahhh," he groaned, "Y-yeah. Yeah, I'm fine. Sorry."

Nezu nodded, secure that he didn't have to call Recovery Girl. He pushed the button under his desk to cancel the alarm.

"What…What was that?" Aizawa asked as he looked at Kurosaki and then his swords. Nezu recognized the sharpness in his eyes as analytical rather than judgmental. Aizawa-kun was always good at analysis. As would be expected as his former mentee.3 "Swords don't do that."

Kurosaki's eyes darted to Aizawa, to Yamada, to Nezu, and then back to Aizawa before looking down at the swords in his hands. A brief moment, as if in hesitation, passed before he let out a nervous laugh. "I guess mine are just special like that." He rose to his full height in one motion, the swords extensions of his arms. His eyes glided over them from top to bottom. "Mine," his lips quirked at the corners, "mine are just like that."

Nezu would file that little remark for later.

He glanced at the remains of his windows. There was much more to what Kurosaki said, he could tell.

Satisfied with his swords now back in his possession for good, Kurosaki moved to place his swords on his body, the larger one on his back and the smaller one on his hip. This confused Nezu as he did not see holsters or scabbards on the man's sweatshirt-clad person. He did not have to wonder about it for much longer as he watched the cloth wrappings that had previously wound around the swords do so again, making their own holsters. Sleek black metal was hidden from sight save for the handles.

A telekinetic ability? Or perhaps there is some attraction between the swords themselves and the cloth wrappings. A positive-to-negative attraction like a magnet? How similar is this to Aizawa-kun's passive ability? High Specs never stopped working in his brain, but it was these ideas that kept his life interesting.

Aizawa visibly perked up, interest focused on the swords once more. "Those cloth wrappings. Are they part of your Quir—ah—abilities? Or are they unique to your swords?" Nezu had a good feeling that his former student was already drawing similarities between the behaviors of his capture scarf to the gravity-defying ones of the cloth wrappings of Kurosaki's swords.

"Just full of surprises, aren't you?" Yamada asked good-naturedly.

Kurosaki said nothing, just offered a small quiet smile.

Careful of the glass all over the floor, they made their way back to Nezu's desk. Before Kurosaki could do so, his attention was caught by what else was on the bookcase. "Wh-Where did you get those butterflies?"

Yamada and Aizawa, who were just about to claim two of the three empty seats in front of his desk, leaned in order to see the insects in question. Nezu could already see the chills running through Yamada as the man's eyes grew wide and his face paled rather dramatically. Thankfully, before any accidental Quirk usage could happen on Yamada's part, Aizawa's hand shot out like a viper's strike to cover and shut Yamada's mouth. Nezu was not sure if Aizawa had recovered enough to use Erasure.

Not a problem. I have no more windows to shatter.

"Do you recognize them?" Nezu asked, tilting his head.

"I—yes, I do! Where did you get them?"

"Well, I'm surprised that you don't know where they came from, Kurosaki-san." Nezu waved a paw cheerfully to Kurosaki's person. "We found them hiding in your clothes when you were brought to the hospital!"

Kurosaki blinked. Ah, so he was not aware of this. "I—you—they were…on me?" Was that…wonder in his voice? Hope? When Kurosaki leaned into the cage to see the butterflies, his finger was gentle when it pressed against the see-through mesh lining the cage. The butterflies all clustered to land on the mesh where his finger was, and Nezu was surprised to see the edges of their wings glow purple for a brief second. "Hey, little guys," Kurosaki seemed to forget for a moment that there were three other people in the room with him, "…how in Kami's name did you get here?"

The butterflies just continued to glow at the edges of their wings.

For a man with seemingly myriads of powers within him, he had a gentle manner about him that only added to Nezu's new fascination with him.

"Quirked butterflies?" Aizawa ventured a guess.

Yamada, still looking a little squeamish but not calm enough to forego Aizawa's hand on his mouth, made a questioning sound.

Kurosaki shook his head, finally taking a seat at Nezu's desk. "They came from where I'm from. Still don't know how they made it through in one piece, though." Next, he turned to Nezu with a wince. "Ah, hey," he rubbed the back of his neck. "Sorry about your windows. That wasn't supposed to happen. I can—"

Before Kurosaki could continue, Nezu's door slammed open with such force that the door was embedded into the wall. I rather liked that door. That's the third one this month…

Startled by the loud sound, Kurosaki was already at the ready, swords drawn.

"I AM HERE! So stop right there!" All Might in his muscle form came crashing into Nezu's office with Snipe in tow, gun at the ready. They faltered when they saw who was in the office.

"Kurosaki?!" All Might shouted in surprise.

An awkward silence fell between everyone. All Might's battle stance drooped while Snipe visibly cringed with embarrassment, quickly lowering his gun.

Kurosaki blinked. "…Oops?"

What an interesting man.

Ichigo vowed he was going to pay Yamada and Aizawa back so hard when he would get a source of income.

After the…eventful meeting with Nezu earlier and explaining what happened to the two Pro Heroes All Might and Snipe (this world was a manga, he swore, a giant muscleman and a cowboy), Ichigo had found himself in a particularly odd situation. No home, no money to his name, no other possessions than the clothes on his back, the other part of his soul's blade-self, and the Jello and crackers he pilfered from the hospital. Despite the whole fiasco, he was just immensely relieved to have Zangetsu back with him, physically. The physical closeness made their mental connection stronger and more stable.

There were…times when the lines between himself and Zangetsu blurred. The moment Ichigo made contact with Zan and they connected again, there had been a feedback loop between them of I missed you-missed you-thankful-relief-missed you. Sure Zangetsu was part of his soul and, in theory, could never leave him, but being physically split away from him was miserable.

(I almost gave him up. I almost gave him up.)

(Shh, no you didn't. It was Him, HIS fault, not yours.)

It had been about 10 in the morning after all of that, and he belatedly realized he was stuck in the Hero school. Maybe one of them saw him awkwardly standing there not able to do much of anything for the meantime, because they offered to get him some necessities. He declined out of politeness, of course, but Yamada insisted he go to the store for him.

Ichigo had admitted that he was thankful because he did not feel comfortable being in the general public at the moment.

After about an hour of tea with Nezu, Aizawa having stayed with him in Nezu's office (to keep him company and finalize some lesson plans), Yamada returned with some basic toiletries such as soap, 2-in-1 shampoo-conditioner, deodorant, a toothbrush and toothpaste, and so on.

"We'll help you with clothes later! I thought you getting your own clothes might be better than us getting it for you, ya dig?"

"Ahh, wait wait!" Ichigo waved his hands, "I don't want you to spend your money on me. I can't pay you back." He didn't want to take advantage of Yamada's kindness, especially after having known him for only two days. Plus, he had his husband to take care of. Aizawa was still wrapped up in bandages doing a pretty good impression of a professional mummy.

It's not like we're swimmin' in cash. It ain't takin' advantage if we need stuff.

"Nonsense!" Yamada was having none of it.

Next to him, Aizawa took a long sip of his tea and finished one of his lesson plans fully looking the part of someone who was used to Yamada's insistence. "It's best if you just go with it, Kurosaki-san. I've learned the hard way," he said without looking up from shifting papers. "Also, we're not wasting any money. You are in need of assistance, so we are helping you. A logical matter."

Ichigo did not feel like he was going to win in this conversation. He sighed, "If you insist. Thank you."

"Kurosaki-san," Nezu called his attention. When Ichigo looked at him, he gestured to the clock with a nod. "It's a little early for lunch, but I can imagine you may be hungry after the morning you have had. And, if I know my former students," here he aimed a fond, knowing look at Aizawa and Yamada, who suddenly found the floor very interesting, "they skipped out on breakfast this morning to get things done. Isn't that right?"

Aizawa hid part of his face in his scarf while Yamada looked sheepish.

Ichigo didn't have anything in the hospital this morning, but he thought the other two would have eaten.

"I forgot!" Yamada said. "Wanted to get right out the door. Can you blame me?"

"I had a jelly pouch."

What's a jelly pouch? The image his brain cooked up of a cup of Jello squished into a squeezable pouch did not make for an appealing image.

Even Zan sneered at the image. Ugh, that texture sounds like brains in a pouch. Shit, I'll eat a Hollow, but that sounds gross. If I'm gonna eat a Hollow brain, it's gonna be straight from the source, not some jellified version. ('Waste not, want,' not came to mind, but perhaps Ichigo had long since rubbed off on Zan enough that his tastes changed. Hollows wasted nothing, but a Hollowfied Zanpakutō? More like his wielder than a base Hollow.

Kind of.

They were a weird example.)

"Why don't you take Kurosaki-san here to Lunch Rush for an early lunch? It's not time for the students to have lunch yet, so you may beat the crowd." Nezu said.

At the mention of food, Ichigo's stomach thought it was the appropriate time to make itself known. He hadn't even paid it any attention, long used to being hungry for extended periods of time. The other two, however, beat him to it before he could even defend himself.

"Lunch Rush it is!" Yamada got Ichigo up from his chair and patted him on the back. He was able to hold in a flinch. "Trust me, you'll love whatever Lunch Rush makes. Anything you want, you can have."

Ichigo reflexively laid a hand on the hilt of Zangetsu's short sword on his waist. They said there wouldn't be a crowd. It's fine, it's fine.

Aizawa followed from the rear, giving Nezu a nod goodbye before exiting. He would have closed the door, but it was firmly stuck in the wall from All Might crashing into the office with Snipe.

"Ah, Kurosaki-san," he heard Nezu's voice when he was out the door.

He turned around to see what the chimera man wanted. Nezu had his paws folded in front of him as he sat at his desk. "There should be no roaming students at the moment as they are in class," he said as he nodded to Zangetsu's blades. "However, I cannot make this same claim later on. Do be careful."

'Wandering with weapons isn't what I'd accept, but I will not take your swords from you,' Ichigo could glean what Nezu was trying to tell him. It made sense. If he were a principal of a school with young students around, he wouldn't want a stranger wandering around with weapons either.

And yet.

Yet, Nezu was wise enough to know separating him from Zangetsu, especially after being reunited just this morning, would not be a good idea. Smart of him.

He decided to meet him in the middle. "Understood. Thank you," he said, hand still on the hilt of Zangetsu's short blade.

Yamada and Aizawa were in the hall waiting for him to catch up. Once he caught up, they started to lead him through the building toward what he assumed would be the cafeteria. As they went down halls and stairs, Ichigo took note of his surroundings. Tall beams of steel, neatly tiled floors, and huge shiny glass windows. There was almost a futuristic feel to it—or was that just the fanciness? The school was impressive from the outside and was equally so indoors. Karakura High had never been a poor school, but comparing it to UA, he sure felt as if his school had been a dump. Even universities hadn't possessed interiors as nice as UA.

"So! What are you in the mood for, Kurosaki-san?" Yamada asked as they turned the corner into a large, bright dining area. Had to be the cafeteria. (Or a fancy, on-site restaurant. Jeeze, how much money did this school have?)

To be very honest, he didn't have food on his mind, really. His body needed it, that much was simple. But thinking about eating something from someone he didn't know…it made him uneasy.

He wasn't sure what he should say, so he stalled by asking, "What's there to have?"

They got to the front of the order window where there were already a few people bustling around inside. He could see the kitchen from the window and could hear people shouting about needs and their locations around the kitchen. Large, shiny industrial-sized culinary equipment was busy cooking, baking, frying, and more. Huge pots, pans, and trays were all over the place. Someone with a tall white chef's hat—Is that a huge tube going into their back?—could be seen bustling like a madman around everyone. The smell of cooking food hit him like a wall, and that was what finally tipped his brain into the 'you need to eat now,' category. He could feel his mouth start to water. It all smelled delicious.

The food at the hospital had been rather bland and hard to eat while he was there. No fault on the hospital's part; he just hadn't the stomach to handle much.

Now, though…

"What isn't there to have?" Yamada said breezily. "Anything you want, you can have. Anything."

"We'll cover it," Aizawa said before Ichigo could protest them giving him more things.

Anything? "I, um…" The lack of restrictions made him a little anxious as he was not used to having access to food like that. Back in the Stronghold, food selections had drastically narrowed as time went on. (His country's former policy before shit went down of importing a majority of goods was a huge shot in the foot.) Simple things such as coffee or sweets that no one thought much about had become coveted luxuries almost overnight. When he had been taken by His forces, food became a method of manipulation. First withheld, then tampered with. Afterwards, an incentive. He had been used to going hungry. Then when he was forced with Him, food was like a threat.

Something easy, Ichi. What's that egg thing ya used to eat?

Something easy…with egg? Ah!

He stared at the stack of paper napkins to his left. "Just a small tomago-don4, please. Thank you."

"Eh, that's it? Dude, are you sure?" Yamada frowned before Aizawa nudged him in the ribs. "What?" he asked Aizawa.

Aizawa shook his head, then turned to the person who was waiting for them at the window. "One small tomago-don, one large order of chicken and vegetable karaage5 with orange sauce on the side, and I guess a salad, please."

Yamada cleared his throat, making Aizawa sigh.

Ichigo could tell there was some sort of seriously long conversation behind whatever was going on between the two and Aizawa's order.

"With an egg or chicken in it, please. It doesn't matter which."

"Coming right up! For here or to go?"

Ichigo felt a mild flash of panic thinking about eating in this huge cafeteria. Too big, no wall behind me. I can't see the top of the stairs from here. What if there are students that come in? Unbeknownst to him, Aizawa noticed that he was beginning to tear a paper napkin he had grabbed a moment ago unthinkingly.

"To go, thank you."

A breath he didn't know was holding released, and he sent a thankful look towards Aizawa. Yamada nudged him with his elbow and offered a lopsided grin. He didn't say anything, but the contact was appreciated, oddly. Even just interacting with him for two days, Yamada was a rather easy person to get along with.

Once they got their food, they returned to Nezu's office. On the way there, the two men mentioned a teacher's lounge but told Ichigo that Nezu's office would be better since they figured he didn't want to be around a lot of people right now. They were one hundred percent correct. He didn't know any of the other teachers at this school or the faculty. Other than those two, he knew All Might from fighting with him, Snipe in passing from briefly seeing him at USJ and again when he barged in the door with All Might, and that was about it.

He would rather save being introduced to a bunch of new people for the meeting later than rushing it and doing it now when the teachers were on their own breaks.

The others were halfway finished with their food while Ichigo had barely managed to eat a few spoons of his. He pushed the rice and egg around to make it look like he was eating more than he was. The thing that sucked was that, even for something simple like egg and rice, it was delicious. It was light, fluffy, and warm, and he wanted to devour all of it. But he couldn't.6 He just couldn't and that frustrated him.

The water (and tea earlier) was easier to manage. Clean water was Kami-sent, and he had to have a tight rein on himself in order not to chug the whole bottle in one go.

"How are you feeling about today, Kurosaki-san?" Nezu asked before taking a bite of food. When Ichigo and the two others came back with their early lunches—brunches, really—the chimera man brought out his own snack of honeyed tea biscuits.

Today, huh?

So many feelings. He was stuck in a place that was not his own, with people he had only known for a couple days. Who had powers that did not come from being Fullbringers. Oh, and how he could forget that no one that he'd sensed so far has a large amount of reiatsu? Back home, even normal living people had enough reiatsu to register on the "basic" scale. Here, though? It was freaky how Aizawa or Yamada or even Nezu could be right in front of him and he could barely sense them.

He had no one like him that he could fall back to.

Hey! You forgettin' about me that quick?

Sorry, I didn't mean you. We're part of each other. I meant…

His family, his friends, his mentors, his comrades.

His pack.

Kisuke.

Ichigo had to take a deep breath before he began to spiral. The warm pulse that Zangetsu sent him helped. Ichigo absentmindedly began to thumb the pommel of Zangetsu's short blade. "You all have been kind to me thus far, so thanks for that. I don't know where I would be without your help."

Aizawa put his tea down on the table. "We could say the same of you, Kurosaki-san. Without your assistance, it would be fair to say I might not be here right now and my students could have been injured or worse." He took Yamada's offered hand. "I wouldn't feel right leaving someone who has helped so much in the wind."

"Way to make a guy blush," he murmured, a little uncomfortable at the attention. He was used to helping. It was in his blood. "As for the meeting later today, what will happen at it, exactly?" Ichigo asked as he pushed some rice in his to-go container around.

Nezu clapped his paws together. "I am so glad you asked! You see…"

Originally Published: 8/26/2023, Published on here: 1/23/24

(1) If you really think about it, because of Quirk discrimination and how Izuku's previous teachers basically did nothing to stop the bullying, I don't believe he's ever had a good relationship with a teacher in canon (if Aldera was an example for anything). Most students do, in fact, care about their teachers if they think their teachers are good, kind, and actually give a damn about them. (You all know that one teacher that you absolutely loved and would hate if they stopped teaching 'cuz something happened to them.) Anyway, my point is that because of this lack of good past relationships with his teachers—and some adults in general—Izuku isn't sure what is the 'appropriate' amount of concern or care to have to a teacher or adult in power, so he thinks he might be committing a faux pas. Poor kid cares and stresses so much that he thinks caring is a social blunder, jeeze.

(2) There are a few characters that I can see being on the Autism spectrum, but I can for sure see Īda clearly as one of them. Mostly from the way he seems to stim using the chopping motions and hand motions and how he sometimes acts in social situations. Midoriya is another one.

(3) I personally think that Aizawa, who has a pretty tactical and analytic mind (which works well for him in Underground specialization), would have taken the interest of Nezu to some degree. Here, I'm thinking Nezu took Aizawa as his mentee for certain aspects. He doesn't Know All like Nezu does, but he is a smart cookie.

(4) Tomago-don or egg-bowl (dish) is a Japanese donburi (rice bowl) that has egg.

(5) Karaage is a cooking technique where food is lightly covered in flour and fried in oil. Chicken karaage (bite-sized pieces of chicken thigh) is the default, but karaage can also be fish or vegetables. The karaage at my local Japanese place has a delicious orange sauce on the side. It has a slight spiciness to it that pairs well with the chicken.

(6) While I have not been withheld food or been food insecure like Ichigo, I have felt the exact way he has in wanting to eat something, knowing you need to eat something, and truly desiring to eat but just not being able to. It sucks, period. He doesn't have an eating disorder (like anorexia or bulimia), but he does have disordered eating that stems from his trauma.