Tenya Iida was not having a good week.

The thought was intrusive, suddenly interjecting itself into his stream of consciousness right as he sat down in an uncomfortable blue chair right outside the care ward, his hands trembling between his knees and his head bowed. The absurdity of the thought, how viciously it understated his mood, actually shocked him a little. Against his will, and his better judgment, a tiny smile formed on his lips, and the briefest scoffing laugh escaped him.

It was true, was the worst part of it all. It was just that it was true in the smallest sense possible. Tenya was not having a good week, he was having an atrocious week. First he'd failed to even make it into the third round of the Sports Festival; then the news of Tensei's crippling, his fists clenched against his own will as anger roared and his blood burned like an engine at full power… and now this, another comrade wounded because he was unable to intervene.

His vision distorted, and it took him a moment to realize the tears coming from the corners of his eyes were pooling on the lenses of his glasses. He pulled them off his face and wiped them clean with his thumbs, still staring at the floor. He traced the foggy shapes of the pattern in the white tiles, hexagonal lines intersecting over and over and over.

He wondered if he wasn't useless. The Festival, Tensei, Raymond Blackmore… had he done anything right in the last week? Had he saved anyone, or accomplished anything? The bitter smile died, and he stared blankfaced at the floor. He was hollow of the anger and the pain in that moment, feeling nothing, and he was glad for it.

And he sat there, silent and alone, for a long while. Behind him they were pulling a bullet out of Raymond Blackmore, and somewhere further down the hall they were trying to put Salamandra's torn body back together. Dustbowl was down with a severe concussion, ordered to a week's bed rest. Even Manual hadn't escaped unharmed; several serious lacerations requiring stitches. Iida's armour had saved him from that at least, though he still felt as though he'd been beaten about the head with a heavy stone.

In truth, he alone had evaded severe injury. He hadn't been shot, or stabbed, or slashed with crystals. He'd been knocked down and smashed in the chest with an arm like a battering ram, and his armour had its dents and scrapes, but his brother's design had served its purpose well. Tenya Iida was still standing, when the rest of the Manual Hero Agency was down.

What a sick joke. Their enemy, the man with the crystal quirk, had all but ignored Iida, simply knocking him down or deflecting his attacks with that jagged gemstone armour of his. He felt sickened, ashamed of himself, but it was all on him anyways. What did it matter in the end? The villain had escaped anyway, though the police had at least captured his counterpart with the hair Quirk after the fact. The larger of his two targets had died, but the smaller one Blackmore had cuffed was also in police custody.

They'd saved the life of a single criminal, possibly in exchange for Salamandra. Tenya scowled again.

All of a sudden, he heard the slap of rubber soles on the tile floor, and looked up to see Izuku Midoriya running down the corridor, directly toward him. He was damp with rainwater and wild-eyed, a small abrasion on his left cheek betraying that he too had seen some sort of hostile action that night.

"Iida!" he said, sliding to a stop before him. "Are you alright? I… my mother called me, after the hospital contacted her. What happened?"

"It was…" Tenya swallowed, hard. "We were disrupting what we thought was an ordinary drug deal. But the narcotics were stolen, and the buyers were instead assassins for a criminal organization. Blackmore… Blackmore and I successfully took one down, but the other…"

Tenya's hands shook again, and he clasped them together to bid for some small measure of stability.

"He was far beyond us," Tenya admitted. "He… he wiped the floor with us, Midoriya. Blackmore only survived because of the rainfall, and even then we only barely grazed him once. The entire Agency fought him, and he crushed us."

"Iida…" Midoriya said his name, and when Tenya looked up he was shocked to see the smaller boy looking down at him with sadness in his eyes. "Iida, are you alright?"

"I am…" Tenya's ribcage throbbed, but he didn't let the pain show. "I am fine. Just some bruises. Blackmore was… he was shot, in the arm. Manual was cut multiple times, and the others…"

"I heard about Salamandra," Midoriya said, before sitting down in a chair next to Tenya's. "Dustbowl was hit in the head?"

"There was a great deal of blood," Tenya said, his voice hoarse. "It's my fault. I-I failed to engage at the right time, and Blackmore…"

"Iida, please, don't." Midoriya's hand grabbed his wrist, squeezing gently, and Tenya's head turned whiplike to look at his classmate. "It isn't your fault. You couldn't have known there would be a villain of that level present."

"No, before that," Iida protested. "I… when Blackmore was engaging the first assassin, I-I was distracted. I let my mind wander, and I… I only engaged after Blackmore was shot. It's my fault he's injured."

He hated that Midoriya's gaze held only sympathy.

"Iida," Midoriya said. "I… I know why you chose Manual's agency. I know why you wanted to work in Hosu."

Tenya's blood ran cold then, the fire gone completely. He stared at Midoriya, who met his gaze on the level, his hand unmoved from Tenya's arm. Tenya swore he could see something in Midoriya's eyes, a shape? He blinked, and it was gone.

"You're going after Stain," Midoriya said. "You want to avenge your brother. You want to avenge Ingenium."

Stain. Just the sound of the name made Tenya's hands go back trembling, his eyes narrowing. His blood roared like engines in his ears, his heart pounding with the need to wrap his fingers around the monster's throat and squeeze.

"I have to," Tenya said, a whisper of absolute conviction. "It… it has to be me. Stain deserves to die for what he's done, and I… I have to do it, Midoriya."

"I can't make that choice for you, Iida," Midoriya said, and Tenya blinked. "I know. I should be talking you down, convincing you to let go of your anger. But… I get it, you know? I… I know what it's like to hate someone, to want them dead. I had to let go of that hate. I hope you can too, because it hurts more than it helps. It's like poison, but it's something you have to stop taking on your own."

"I don't think… I don't think I can just let go." Tenya's hands curled into fists, though he did not will them too. "I can't… I can't think, Midoriya. I can't focus. I try to go to sleep and all I can see is Tensei, in that bed, trapped. And I think about who trapped him there…"

Again the anger churned inside him. He felt Midoriya rub his shoulder, and he closed his eyes.

"I will kill Stain," he said, his voice a broken whisper. "Please, Midoriya; don't get in my way."

Midoriya said nothing. They sat there together for a while, until the door slid open and a doctor all in blue and white stepped out, peeling his facemask off with a weary sigh. He glanced down at the pair, and then smiled warmly.

"Chins up, boys," he said. "Your friend in there will be fine. The bullet was lodged by the bone, but I got it out without any serious cutting. Shrunk it down to sand-size and plucked it out with some pliers. He's lost a fair bit of blood, but we have a transfusion prepped and incoming."

"How's his hand?" Midoriya asked, and the doctor nodded.

"Lacerations were rough, but one of the nurses can regrow soft cells with her Quirk," he said. "She'll be in there with him for another little while. No stitches necessary, just a wrap to keep the dust and debris out while his epidermal layer firms up. Truth be told he could be back on the streets by the end of the week."

"Thank you, doctor," Midoriya stood up, shaking the man's freshly ungloved hand and smiling gratefully. "Is there a window for when we can visit with Blackmore?"

"He should be okay for standard visiting hours tomorrow," the doctor replied, before looking between the two. "Now, both of you ought to be getting back to your agencies. It's damn late, and if I know one thing about you heroes, it's that your work is never done."

Tenya rose, drawing in a deep breath. Midoriya patted him on the back as the doctor assured him that the rest of his team was in stable condition, even Salamandra, though only Manual was likely to return to duty before the end of the week. Before they left, the pair went to see him.

Manual was resting in a hospital bed, sat up expecting their arrival. His arms and torso were covered in bandages, visible through the thin cloth of his hospital gown. He looked ragged, but smiled when he saw the pair step into his room, raising a hand in greeting.

"Tenya," he said, looking relieved for a moment before his eyes flicked down to his armour. "Have they examined you yet? I know that armour is good, but I'm worried about those hits you took."

"I'm fine," Tenya insisted, shaking his head. "I… Blackmore is in recovery, sir, and Salamandra is stable. Dustbowl is concussed but should be fine after a week or so."

He all but stood at attention as he spoke, feeling Midoriya's hand on his back again. Manual looked up at him and nodded once. His expression still bore a note of concern, but now he looked more relieved than anything else. Doubtless he too had been fearful for the rest of the agency.

"I'm stuck here for two days, on recovery and observation," Manual said, speaking the words with the same tone one might use to describe a particularly distasteful smell. "But Salt is still standing by at the agency. I put in a call to Death Arms to help patrol the eastern Hosu area, but that still leaves you for the western blocks. I know it isn't fair, but do you think you can handle working solo for a couple days?"

"Yes sir," Tenya said, nodding. "I will keep Hosu safe in your absence. I… I promise."

"I'll be able to warp over if Iida needs help," Midoriya offered. "I know the main streets of Hosu pretty well."

"I'd be grateful," Manual said, and Tenya couldn't help but bristle a little at the implied distrust. "It shouldn't be too bad, but if another villain like that crystal bastard shows up… jeez. Here's hoping!"

He shook Midoriya's hand, then Tenya's, before laying back. The two excused themselves, leaving him to get some much needed bedrest. The pair stepped out of the room, then down the hall and the elevator, heading for the front doors.

"Looks like Hosu City is relying on you for the rest of the week," Midoriya said, as they walked out together. "Do you want me to warp you back to the Manual Agency? I'm familiar with the street."

"I…" Tenya hesitated. "I think I'd prefer to run. I need to… clear my head."

Midoriya looked him over again, at his scuffed and dented armour, but didn't protest. He just clapped Tenya on the shoulder again, promising he'd be there if Tenya ever needed backup, before stepping back and then walking between two pillars, vanishing with a flash of his D4C. Tenya watched him go, before looking back at the hospital.

"I won't let you down, Manual," he said, softly. "I… I will not. That is my vow."

Then he turned, fired up his Engines, and started running back to the Agency. From the shadows above, Izuku watched him go, sitting atop an archway over the front doors. Valentine was beside him, standing in the reflection of the tinted window, hands behind his back and a frown on his face.

"The boy is troubled," he said, not for the first time. "He swears to this Manual, but he still lusts after vengeance. He may be forced to choose, and now there is nobody to oversee him."

"I have faith in Iida," Izuku said, one leg dangling off the archway, the other drawn up to his chest. "He's a good guy, deep down. I think what happened to his brother… he's trying to forget that. But he won't."

"Let us both pray you are correct," said Valentine, before leaning over as if to whisper in Izuku's ear. "And speaking of prayer; mayhaps our dear Blackmore's lovely friend deserves to hear of this?"

"I-I don't have her number…" Izuku admitted, and Valentine chuckled. "What? I didn't think to ask!"

"Fear not, young Izuku," Valentine chuckled. "You may have neglected, but I did not. Take out your phone, and listen close…"

—-

"If you want an hour off, you just have to ask."

Ibara Shiozaki stiffened up, looking over her shoulder at the wood-masked face of her pro-hero mentor. Kamui Woods was standing above her, atop the balcony of a large recreation centre, his arms crossed and his eyebrows raised behind his helmet. She had learned from two and a half days of working with the older hero that this meant he was amused.

She glanced back down at the street below, where the police were dragging away the last of the four thugs who had decided to start an impromptu fistfight in the middle of a busy parking lot. That one of them had been able to throw balls of burning magma had escalated the situation from disorderly conduct to severe public endangerment in about as much time as it took for the first car's gas tank to catch. She and Kamui Woods had been nearby, and fortunately the Backdraft agency had arrived to assist with dousing the fires.

"I… I don't know if I should," she confessed. "It is… I know he will be fine. And it is not as though he needs me to stand over him and demand to know how he's doing."

"But if you go, he'll know you care," Kamui Woods, told her, hopping down to sit next to her on the roof the centre's lobby. "And to be honest, it would probably speed up his recovery. Nothing like a pretty girl's attention to get a guy back on his feet."

Ibara blushed, in spite of herself, putting a hand on her cheek to try and hide it. Kamui Woods wasn't an easy man to fool; he prodded her shoulder with his elbow.

"C'mon, you have my permission," he said. "I'll go talk to the camera crew, bring up your contributions. You can go spend a little time with the kid, wish him a speedy recovery. Maybe bring him some fruit or something."

"Fruit?" Ibara asked, looking at him, and he shrugged.

"I've been stuck in the hospital before," he said. "There are few punishments more terrible than multiple days of nothing but hospital food. He'd probably kill for a fresh apple or kiwi or something right now."

"I…" Ibara thought about it a little more, conscious of Kamui Woods' expectant eye, before nodding. "I think I will. Thank you, sir."

"Don't thank me yet," he replied, standing up and dusting off his wooden kneepads. "I haven't mentioned your excellent handling of that fight to the entirety of Japan yet. Once we get invited on half a dozen late night talkshows and you're making a million-dollar deal to advertise fresh produce; then we can start being grateful, alright?"

He gave her a pat on the shoulder, before diving off the rooftop and extending one hand. His fingers extended like tree branches, grabbing at a nearby streetlamp, and he swung down to ground level to the exultant cheers of various gathered civilians. Ibara watched him go, smiling to herself, then slipped away to change into something more casual. She adored her simple white dress as a hero costume, but she felt a visit to the hospital merited…

Well, now that she was thinking about it, maybe Raymond would like to see her hero costume? He hadn't had the opportunity before, and, well… she did look very pretty in it. She covered her cheeks again, as she used her vines to descend the back of the building, pulling out her phone to call for a cab.

Within half an hour she was in the Hosu City general hospital, walking into the elevator with a nervous little smile on her face. In her arms she held a small basket of fresh fruits, ones she'd selected herself from a fortuitous streetside grocer just a little ways down the street. The basket was from a store across the road. It all looked very rustic, which she hoped would appeal to an old soul like Raymond's.

She shared the elevator with an older woman, who looked at her a moment before shooting her with a devilish little grin. She had a wizened face etched with more lines and wrinkles than Ibara could count, but her eyes gleamed with a kindly mischief.

"Lucky young man," she said, which only made Ibara blush again. "He had better be worth the effort, dear. Make sure of it."

"He…" Ibara thought of Raymond, of his conviction, his humility, the warmth of his blue eyes, and smiled fondly. "He most certainly is."

"Good." The woman nodded approvingly, then blinked. "Hold on now, dear… do I know you? You look awfully familiar…"

"My name is Ibara Shiozaki," she said. "I participated in the UA Sports Festival just last week. Perhaps you saw me on the television?"

"Ah, I do know you!" The old woman nodded again. "You were a sight to see, dear! You and that dashing fellow, what was his name? Midoriya?"

"Yes, I suppose we were," said Ibara. "I was truly blessed, to progress so far alongside such able peers."

"Humble too!" The old woman cackled at that, slapping a hand against her thigh. "Whatever young man you're here for dear, he's far too lucky."

Ibara thought about that. She doubted luck had anything to do with it; though from what she knew now, perhaps she was Raymond's just reward for his years of pain. She wasn't sure if she liked thinking of it that way, though it did make her sound like a rather handsome prize. The old woman chortled when she started to blush again, before bidding her farewell when their elevator stopped at the fourth floor. By time Ibara reached the sixth, she had managed to recollect some of her grace and dignity, stepping out into the hall with her basket of fruits in her hand and a serene smile on her face.

When she knocked on Raymond's door, she was greeted by his voice softly inviting her inside. The door slid open, and she walked into the ward only to pause when she saw he already had company; several of his fellow 1-A students were stood or sat around the room. She saw Uraraka Uraraka, wearing some sort of pink and white astronaut-suit that looked almost uncomfortably form fitting, sat in the chair beside Raymond's bed. At the foot of said bed stood a burly redhead she needed a moment to recognize as Eijirou Kirishima, his own hero outfit exposing most of his upper body but for a pair of crossed belts over his shoulders and chest. The last was Kyouka Jirou, sitting curled up atop one of the chairs in the far corner.

There was music playing softly, some sort of old rock that sounded somewhat heavenly. All four of the room's occupants stood or sat silently, looking at her. Then Kirishima grinned, and very casually reached over to pat Raymond on the knee.

"Bro," he said. "Nice."

Raymond flushed, Uraraka laughed and Jiro chuckled softly behind her own knees. Ibara stepped the rest of the way inside, a little pink around the edges herself, before gently setting the fruit basket down on the table beside Raymond's bed. Uraraka hopped out of the chair, but Ibara took Raymond's hand gently in her own, smiling at him.

"I'm sorry it took me so long," she said. "Midoriya sent me the message late last night, and… things were very hectic this morning."

"I saw," Raymond said, his fingers squeezing hers gently. "Kirishima showed me on his phone. Y-You looked magnificent."

Ibara blushed again, and oddly enough Jirou let out a snort and quickly excused herself from the room. That began the mass exodus of Class 1-A, as Uraraka departed shortly afterwards with a little wave. Kirishima was last to leave, giving Raymond a firm (but very gentle) pat on the shoulder before stepping out, shooting the pale boy a wink before the door closed. With that, the two were alone, and Ibara sat down at Raymond's bedside.

He looked more fragile in the hospital gurney, dressed only in a gown. He had always had a lean build but the last months had solidified it, sheathing his arms and chest in a slender but powerful musculature. His skin was almost ethereal in its paleness, his blonde hair unbound and falling like a curtain across his pillow. Ibara caught herself staring at the hollow of his neck, of all places, and felt herself grow warm again. He was… well, handsome was too plain a word, to her mind. He was beautiful and smiling up at her like she was the sun in his summer sky.

"Thank you for coming," he said, after a minute of peaceful silence. "I… I was hoping you would visit. I did not dare hope it would be so soon."

"I only wish it had been sooner," Ibara replied. "When I heard of your injuries… I barely read Midoriya's message the first time. I only saw the bullet wound, and I panicked a little. I'm glad you are recovering so quickly."

"It is a fortunate thing," Blackmore agreed. "I…" He looked away, at the wall. "I'm sorry I let this happen. I was too slow, and I couldn't…"

She saw him swallow hard, his Adam's Apple bobbing in his throat. The hand she held tensed.

"I was so scared," he whispered. "I… I hadn't encountered a foe who could so readily best me, not since… not since I died. Even then… Zeppeli struggled, even with the help of Joestar and the girl. But this man, with his crystals… I was helpless. Even as the rain fell, I could barely escape him."

"Raymond," Ibara said, her voice gentle, but he continued.

"And as it all went black, I thought of…" He swallowed again. "I didn't think of Master Midoriya, or even of Iida, or Manual, or my fellow heroes. Is that wrong? It… it felt wrong. But I… the last thing I could think of… I was terrified I might never see you again. That I would not be able to say…"

He stopped. Ibara's eyes went wide, as he slowly turned his head to look at her. His lips, pale pink and so very soft-looking, trembled for a long moment.

"I thought I would never be able to tell you how I feel," he said, and she watched him shift in the bed, pulling toward her just a bit more. "I… Ibara Shiozaki, I think I love you."

She touched a hand to his cheek, and he leaned into it. His eyes were soft, and as she gazed into their sapphire depths she could see plainly just how afraid he was. And why wouldn't he be? She had seen his past; Raymond Blackmore had likely never dared hope to love or be loved, not in this fashion. His own mother had poisoned his very soul, convincing him of some innate unworthiness, of a broken nature which Ibara simply did not see.

So she held his head in her hands, and leaned in close, and spoke her reply.

"I love you, Raymond Blackmore," she told him, the first person in far too many years to do so, and when he began to cry she felt her own tears blossom. "I love you!"

The confession made, they stayed together for a time, crying and smiling and hugging one another tightly. She learned Raymond craved physical contact, to hold and be held, which did not surprise her in the slightest. He told her how he hadn't dared hope she felt the same feeling that had been roiling in him so long.

And in the window, a ghost of a ghost, Funny Valentine watched his most faithful servant receive his just reward. The former President smiled, bowed his head, and with a final "thank you" whispered to ears which no longer needed to hear his words, he disappeared back to Izuku Midoriya's side.