Knocking on his bedroom door, Izuku found Setsuna checking herself out in his mirror. With his tie unknotted, he threw a thumbs up. Despite bringing nothing but her uniform, she cleaned up nicely. Still, when she inevitably went home, she'd need to gather some essentials if she wanted to sleep over again. They already kept clothes for each other, but they were old. Most were too small.
More pressingly, she had additional needs after clean clothes. They already made an emergency gas station run after the party, but it was a temporary solution. Another trip after school was due.
Izuku kept working on his tie while they ate. His mom was a saint for not teasing them; she took the news that they were officially together with gracious dignity. He racked his brain for gift ideas. After all this, she deserved something nice.
He wanted to clean up, but they were on a time crunch. His mom didn't mind. Setsuna thanked her over and over again, and the two departed for U.A. hand-in-hand.
They didn't go far before Setsuna let go. If they could've used their quirks, Setsuna could've popped her hand off and held his while sticking to his left—but they didn't have their licenses yet. For now, Setsuna compromised by hooking her little finger around his leftmost belt loop.
Though he'd never admit it, not commuting to her house before school was incredibly nice. Waking up so early was a pain. It was the literal only good thing that came out of the last two months. Still, he'd trade all that extra sleep for those months back, if he got to spend them with her.
Having her sleep over was just another way to make up for lost time. They didn't chat. They barely looked at eachother. But every second of quality time was priceless.
They reached U.A. when the sun peeked over the horizon. Already, construction efforts were visible over the fence, turning the All Might obstacle into a fully-fledged statue. It appeared they deconstructed it first, smoothing out the footholds and reinforcing the inside with a stronger material. Onlf half the statue looked complete, but even that was impressive. He remembered standing at the very top and feeling like there was nowhere left on earth to climb.
Even with all the time he saved, they were still early.
Of course, that was on purpose. After all, this was his last day in 1A—and it'd be a shame to keep them waiting, right? Izuku felt his pocket buzz.
"...Are you sure? I can totally back you up, dude," Setsuna said, while Izuku's pocket buzzed again. "No need to act tough."
Izuku buried his exasperation with a smile. She'd offered a dozen times, but after the seventh, he realized it wasn't for his sake. Behind the worried veil across her expression was a not-so-innocent desire to stick by him. In the handful of days since the Sports Festival, they only separated for bathroom breaks and personal conversations.
Despite their long companionship, he'd never seen her so… clingy. She didn't want to split up for classes, even for just one day. It was adorable. If he was honest, he didn't want to part any more than her, but he'd already contacted everyone and signed the paperwork. Events were already moving, and Izuku felt determined to see them through; and, as much as he needed to say goodbye, Setsuna needed to attend class even more.
Stopping just outside of the campus gates, Izuku took her hand and pulled her close. His pocket buzzed. Without checking, he knew who it was from.
"It's just for one day, Set. I've been their classmate for months; they're not gonna rip me to shreds if you're not there to protect me. Go to class."
Lavender puffed across his chin as she huffed.
"You know that's not what I mean. What you're doing is…" Setsuna trailed off. Her eyes searched from some weakness to exploit in his, but found none. When she pouted, he closed his eyes and kissed her.
Butterflies corkscrewed around his spine and shot into his brain, where they cracked like fireworks. Pulling away, he admired Setsuna's relaxed expression. A small smile played at her lips as she opened her eyes. Forgiveness shone a tad brighter than the dawn's young sun.
They walked side-by-side, her little finger in his belt loop, until they reached All Might. She turned left, and he went right. He didn't watch her go, and knew she refrained as well.
Once he was alone, he appraised his texts. Each was from 1A, confirming their arrival in homeroom, just as he'd requested. It seemed everyone was earlier than he was. A nice change of pace, in his opinion.
Just as he was about to pocket his phone, however, it buzzed again.
Setsunasaurus:3 Good luck! ILY!
Smiling, Izuku swallowed his nerves and looked ahead.
Mirio and his friends waved at him. 1B threw him some acknowledging nods. General Education congratulated him. Older students he didn't know called his name. Staff clapped his shoulders when he passed. Ectoplasm said nothing, but his eyes spoke enough for ten.
Crowds parted for him. Groups split for his passage and fused again when he left. At one point, he saw them doing the same for a slightly older student, and he understood they must've won their year's Sports Festival too. He hadn't watched the reruns yet, but could feel the admiration in the air.
It was strangely claustrophobic. An invisible bubble kept anyone from getting too close, but it left his clothes feeling tight and the hallways skinny. He pushed through as fast as he could. Having his achievement acknowledged was a superficial pleasantry, and grew old quick.
He'd already gotten his reward, after all.
When he reached 1A's door, he paused, feeling the weight of his journey squeeze him between the weight of his destination. Izuku almost wished he hadn't sent Setsuna away. Already, he missed her. Maybe his intentions hadn't really registered in his brain, he thought; maybe his undertaking necessitated a friend by his side.
Then, through the door, he heard Ashido laugh. Kirishima told a story, cracking jokes every other word, and a couple weren't funny—but most were. Jirou chimed in, and even Yui's soft laugh rang out.
More chuckles sounded through the door, piercing his ribcage and washing over his heart. His worries remained, but they quieted enough for Izuku to find his courage.
He cracked open the door and found 1A smiling. Aizawa wasn't at his desk, and just about everyone either sat in the wrong seat or in the right seat the wrong way. A few pushed their desks together. The laughter didn't stop with his arrival, but the stream of jokes did as everyone watched him approach Aizawa's desk and sit in his chair. Izuku gave the class a wave.
"Hey," he said.
"...Hey," Kirishima replied, when no one else did. Heat crept up Izuku's neck, but from his own bold stunt, rather than the general lack of greeting. He understood everyone's trepidation. After all, one of their classmates was leaving, and he just sat in the teacher's chair.
He glanced around, counting.
"Seems like everyone made it, and with twenty minutes to spare. Thanks, guys. I really appreciate it," Izuku said. He leaned into Aizawa's chair, discovering that while the cushion was nice, the back was hard as stone. His fingers drummed the man's desk. "The last couple days have been hectic, so I'm sorry if this was short notice. I hope it wasn't too bothersome."
"It's okay, Midoriya," Shiozaki said, setting her shoulders straight. Not a vine was out of place. She glanced around. "I figured some kind of conversation was due, and believe me when I say not one among us is bothered. Please, explain yourself. And, of course, congratulations on your victory."
Murmurs of agreement followed. Uraraka studied her desk.
Izuku smiled.
"Of course. I couldn't have done it without you guys," Izuku said, before zeroing in on a blond boy. "And especially not without you, Ojiro."
He nodded, expression stone cold, and Izuku reciprocated. Words gurgled and popped in his head like a thick, boiling soup. The right ones were somewhere deep down, but the temperature was too hot to search with his bare hands. Carefully, he scooped the surface out with a ladle.
"I had a… party, in all honesty. Just a day after the Festival. I'm sorry about not inviting anyone here, but that's why I requested everyone's presence today. Those invited were special cases, who knew me particularly well or whom I trusted equally. While I care about you all very much… none of us have that level of trust."
His words settled on everyone's faces differently. A few looked confused, while others grimaced at his bluntness. None of it was what he really wanted to say, but already the soup was shrinking and cooling. He kept drumming his fingers so no one could see how they shook.
"So… you all know I'm joining 1Z," Izuku said. Everyone nodded. "And that today is my last here."
More nods. Some were stiffer than others. He chewed on his next words carefully, knowing what he wanted to say but unsure how to get there.
"You said you would," Kirishima said, while Izuku hesitated. "When you shrugged your duties onto me 'n Zaki. Congrats, man."
In silence, Izuku thanked Kirishima for the segway. This was more awkward than he was expecting.
"...You're right. I came to U.A. with the full intention of joining the new class, and I only ended up in 1A because of Nedzu monitoring and… manipulating me."
A few chairs creaked as his classmates sat up.
"Excuse me?" Jirou asked, narrowing her eyes. "Like, Principal Nedzu?"
Izuku nodded.
"I-I guess it's obvious that I'm a little different, right?" Izuku asked, looking around the class. No denials there. "Well, I… I hope this doesn't sound like bragging, but I've been on the man's radar since I was nine. When I applied for 1Z and took the exam, he knew, and didn't approve. He failed me and… used you guys as a sort of birdcage."
His stump itched. He sank into Aizawa's chair.
"It messed with my head a lot. I…" Izuku gripped his empty shoulder. "...I was already dealing with a lot, which I guess is why he placed me here, but it hurt more than it helped."
"I'm sorry," Uraraka muttered, eyes still downcast. Toru's empty clothes creased as she nodded.
"Me too—"
"No!" Izuku interrupted, shooting to his feet. Shocked silence befell everyone as Izuku cringed, and sat back down. He hadn't meant to shout. In a quieter voice, he looked at Uraraka and Toru. "Don't apologize. Being in 1A wasn't what hurt. I like you guys a lot, and you're all very talented—and you two have especially been nothing but angels. What hurt wasn't spending time with you guys or Nedzu clipping my wings, but… everything. I'm…"
He gripped his shoulder even tighter, and wished now more than ever Setsuna was here to help him find his words. Uraraka glanced up and met his eyes.
Something in her expression made his stomach flip. A familiarity. There was a recognition behind her eyes that shouldn't be there; the kind he only saw in the people who knew him well. Very, very well. Who knew what he'd done.
His mind flashed back to her reclusive politeness after the Festival. Had she…?
He blinked. Oh, Katsuki, Izuku thought. Really?
Izuku realized he was gaping at her after it was too late to hide. 1A glanced between them, inquisitive pinches in their expression.
When they turned back to him, the entire weight of his intention fell on his shoulders and crushed his chest. Izuku choked, once, before gulping down a searing spoonful of air.
1A watched him, concerned, but no one moved. Choking down another terrible breath, Izuku squeezed his shoulder as tight as he could, once, and let go. Despite being indoors, he felt the looming presence of the half-built statue outside.
"...Are you alright, Midoriya?" Tokoyami asked. He reached Aizawa's desk and put a hand on his aching shoulder. "It's okay. Whatever demons haunt you, let them bleed at your own pace."
Swallowing his chagrin, Izuku tried laughing.
"If we went at a comfortable pace, we'd be here till third period. Thank you, though. You've been a friend when I needed it," Izuku said, patting the bird-faced boy's hand. Tokoyami pulled away, and stood just behind him when he turned back to class. "When I leave today, I hope we can all stay friends… Even after it all.".
"Of course!" Kirishima said, glancing around. Nods rippled out. "Just because you'll be in a different class, I could never forget the USJ. I'm your man for life, bro."
"I am likewise at your beck and call," Shiozaki said.
"How could I not be?" Sero asked.
More voices chimed in, all with the same consensus. Heat pooled behind Izuku's eyes, and he fought to not let any of it spill. Before it could, Uraraka stood.
"I… think I speak for everyone when I say…" She began, meeting Izuku's burning eyes again, "...that we'll still be there for you, no matter what. So… don't hold anything back on our account, yea?"
His heart squeezed. The words, the way she said it—the implication underneath. Her tentative, fragile olive branch chilled the skin of his palm, and if it'd been anyone else, he might've slapped it away.
Instead, with a long exhale, he took it. Shrugging, he indicated Tokoyami could take his seat, and once he, Uraraka, and the rest settled down, Izuku stood.
"I-I like to think I have good reasons for being scared. You can see my arm. It's written all over my face—and I've come to the school where it all began. Before now, I'd never even told my closest friends—hell, even Setsuna didn't know—exactly what made me tick. I truly, truly hope you all continue being my friend, even though I…"
He caught a glimpse of the bulky device under Uraraka's hair. The way Kirishima scratched at his stomach. Shiozaki's serious, focused stare. Tokoyami's shrunken posture.
A deep breath filled his lungs to bursting. All of these little things were scars; memories that would never quite fade, physical or mental. There wasn't one person among them unscathed from life.
He decided they deserved the truth—or, at least, a sliver. Clearing his throat, Izuku steadied his shaking fist.
"I'm sorry—let me introduce myself. My name is Izuku Midoriya. I'm a freshman, I have one arm, and six years ago, All Might sacrificed his life to save mine."
An incomparable sigh of relief chased the words out his mouth. An invisible weight on him vanished, and as he rolled his shoulders, he felt like he could touch the clouds. In the back of his mind, he theorized he probably could, using the right equipment—but he didn't let the ideas pull him from the moment.
1A fell into hushed silence with his declaration. He refused to let it bother him, and while everyone else froze in thought, he turned to Uraraka—the only one who wasn't surprised. A funny little emotion worked his face into a quasi-smile.
"Katsuki told you, right?"
She nodded.
"...Probably told you some other things, too. Even less flattering, right?"
Again, she nodded, eyes widening.
"Well, I doubt whatever he said was wrong. Don't hold it against him, yea? I don't blame him for hating me."
"...I-I don't know how to feel either way, but I don't blame you. You were just a kid."
He felt his heart reach out to her. She was a good girl, sweet and forgiving… but perhaps a little too-much so. No one understood that All Might was more than just a man—he had seven men and women standing behind his every accomplishment. It took more than a monster to kill something like that.
It took at least two. He sighed.
"Most public recordings censor me for privacy, but I'm easy to spot if you know what you're looking for, regardless. Go on any second page of any search engine, and I'm there. Newspapers didn't bother hiding me, either—so if you have them saved, you could point me out; though I imagine most copies are gone these days. If you still don't believe me… ask Sir Nighteye or Mr. Aizawa. Or Vlad King, Present Mic, Midnight, Ectoplasm, or Whirlwind. Hell, even Mirio Togata knows, if you've heard of him."
It felt like he was preaching to an empty room. No one spoke, or blinked, or fidgeted at his words whatsoever; they went in one ear and out the other. Izuku shifted his weight between his feet.
"I'm not lying. This isn't about—"
"I-I believe you," Shiozaki rasped, voice devoid of strength or inflection. Like she was speaking while inhaling. "Just… allow me a moment…"
Izuku promptly shut his mouth.
Jirou stood on uneasy feet. One by one, people joined her. Ojiro. Ashido. Tokoyami. Tsuyu. They kept their eyes on the floor. Izuku ignored the way his guts squeezed when Uraraka, Kirishima, and Sero joined them.
He tried to keep his breathing under control, but it was difficult. More students joined the somber alliance, but still, no one looked at him, even as the last student stood. Closing his eyes, he made himself a promise.
Their approval and belief mattered to him… but the lack thereof wouldn't destroy him. So, straightening his shoulders, he opened his eyes to their reply.
He froze.
Everyone in 1A bowed at the waist. Their foreheads almost touched their desks, and their wrists hugged their hips in a straight arrow. Every joint locked while every muscle tensed. His throat closed off.
They held the unified bow for a second, then two. Then five seconds passed, and when ten began inching towards fifteen, Izuku mouthed unspoken words. He couldn't quite exercise his lungs, however; the words were just boneless air. Heat spilled over his cheeks.
One by one, the students he knew the least straightened. Shinso. Tsunotori. Their eyes said so much, but just like Izuku, whatever they wanted to stay lingered in their lungs. Mezou, Sato, Kouda.
Reiko.
Yui.
Aoyama.
They all stood, red in the face and mouths pinched closed. Kaminari, Sero, Jirou, and Tsuyu. Ashido stood with a shake, quickly followed by Ojiro, Toru, Shiozaki, and Tokoyami. Longer than the rest, but no less or more respectful, bowed Uraraka and Kirishima. By the time Uraraka cracked and met his eyes, Kirishima shook like an autumn leaf in the breeze.
It only occurred to Izuku that the boy was probably still injured when his posture faltered and he almost face-planted into his desk. He caught himself, but still didn't rise.
"Stand," Izuku whispered. "Please."
Slowly, reluctantly, he did. No one quite said a word; no one knew how, or which were welcome, and which were forbidden. At least, not until the door swung open.
Aizawa raised an eyebrow.
"Professor Midoriya, I didn't know you were in today," he said, and cast his crimson gaze across the class. For months, such a gesture would've sent the class scrambling to their seats, but no one budged today. Not even Izuku, despite hogging the man's space for himself.
"Sorry sir," Izuku said, eyes downcast. "I was… explaining some things."
Aizawa's gaze sharpened, and he gave the class a second examination. Izuku copied him, but didn't quite see whatever Aizawa did. Without another word, he turned back for the hall.
"Forget about your other classes. Change into your equipment and meet me at Gamma in nine minutes. …Kirishima, Uraraka, you're excused."
Then he disappeared. The uncertain silence that filled the room before Aizawa's arrival turned stupefied, and with a start, Aizawa's words registered. Nine minutes? What about their other classes? What about—
Izuku was already out the door, 1A on his heels. They'd continue their conversation later.
Deja Vu hit hard as they reached the locker room. He remembered his first Battle Trial, and the frenzy everyone fought through with expulsion on the line. Izuku hadn't gotten many chances to wear his equipment since the USJ, and as he retrieved his suitcase from his locker, he realized this was the first time he'd opened it since his last suit adjustment submission.
In his opinion, it was still unoptimized. The materials were broadly inefficient, the padding mismanaged, and the visual impression could use work—not to mention how his powers were growing by the day, and his suit required constant reinterpretation to compensate.
Still… he suspected he perfected the foundations. When he clicked open the case and viewed his new suit, nothing but pride filled his chest. Most critical oversights were gone.
Slipping into the leggings was easier. He no longer had to snake his utility belt through loops. Velcro kept it snug. The shirt was still incredibly thin, but after refitting it to his dimensions, felt more secure. It hugged his muscles like a second skin.
The real pride of his new design was the hole. He'd been quite clear, this time: he didn't need two sleeves—but he didn't want his stump covered. A large hole, stretching from his shoulder to ribs, left his nub exposed.
Slipping on his mask, he checked himself out in the mirror. The suit stretched with him. It did nothing but enhance his physique while the baseline hues of green shifted under inspection. While the material was miraculous, however, it couldn't stop his eyes from magnetizing towards the pale, ugly stump just barely budding off his shoulder. From the front, the hole exposed his upper obliques and pec, stopping short at the nipple.
Staring at his wound made his brain itchy. He knew it'd never go away, and part of this design was an ill-fated attempt at gritting his teeth and enduring that—but it was also about pride. Despite it all, he chose this design because he'd somehow pulled through anyways. Steeling his nerves, he decided he liked it, even if it itched.
Although… he quickly realized he'd need to start shaving his left armpit. Until then, however…
He hefted the last item from his suitcase, the pièce de résistance, surprised but pleased by the weight, and pressed it against his left shoulder. Two magnetic clicks later, and the dense cape curtained his stump. It must've been five kilos.
A satisfied sigh escaped his lips. After living without an arm for half a decade, he'd learned to always lean left so his arm didn't pull his posture askew. It was a constant effort he didn't consciously feel anymore, but the second the cape's counterweight settled on his left shoulder, he felt his spine straighten naturally for the first time since he was ten. All the weight rested comfortably in his thighs.
Twisting, he watched the sulfuric exterior shimmer. It was smaller than most capes, barely reaching his waist, and he wore it like half a poncho. The right corner rested by his spine and wrapped around to his abs, covering the hole and half his ribcage. Snipe used the same material, so it was shock absorbent and fire retardant.
The cape's inside was matte crimson. It rubbed against his stump constantly, but the texture was surprisingly smooth and ignorable. He shifted, practicing casual poses with the cape settled in different forms—sometimes with the nub curtained, and other times with the whole thing thrown over his shoulder like a medieval heuke. Both felt comfortable.
With Setsuna's input and Toru's fashionable touch, the tones were just right to compliment his bodysuit's greenish hue. His boots were the same crimson as his cape with white tips, while his reinforced glove was yellow with maroon highlights. He eyed his right shoulder, and envisioned a white padded emblem. For now, there was nothing, but he'd hardly settled on a hero name, let alone a symbol. He could leave that for his next suit.
No one complimented his new suit as they left the locker room, but that was fine. The tension hadn't quite dispersed yet. He didn't know where they stood.
Tokoyami did, however, eye his cape and nod. A thumbs-up slipped out the boy's own cape—longer and larger than Izuku's, but similarly unadorned. Aoyama, too, subtly expressed his approval, and they enabled Izuku's smile to last until they found Aizawa outside Training Ground Gamma.
Other people's suits had changed, too—especially the girls'. Many were still flamboyant or form-over-function, but he could see the USJ behind every change. All the dresses disappeared. Street and designer-esque clothes now sported padding and armor. Bodysuits paired with utility belts and support items.
The best change was no change at all. Toru was absolutely nowhere to be seen, and it made him very, very happy.
"Is that everyone?" Aizawa asked, looking around. Izuku's grin stretched even wider; if Aizawa couldn't locate her at a glance, then all the better.
"I'm here!" Toru said, from right beside Izuku. The air rippled and flexed like a heat mirage. Translucent, thin armor glowed slightly pinkish before seamlessly fading back into the surroundings. Her presence was warm beside him, and the cloaking technology didn't make a noise.
Aizawa raised an eyebrow and nodded. Something that could've been a smile might've passed him by. Possibly.
"Good, then," he said, and turned to Kirishima. He stood just away from the crowd, next to Uraraka, still wearing his gray U.A. blazer. "You're not to join the exercise today, but as Class President, it's prudent you pay close attention. This is the same for you, Uraraka."
Kirishima nodded, but his confusion was evident.
"Excuse me, sir, but what—"
"Midoriya, join me."
Surprised, but not really, Izuku felt two dozen eyes rake across him as he broke from the crowd.
"Yes sir?"
Aizawa considered him for a moment. Without breaking eye contact, he addressed the class.
"Fourteen days after Sports Festivals, 1A will commit to a weeklong work study under different heroes. Based on individual performance in the Festival, a student could receive up to six thousand offers. Today, typically, I would explain the work study and show everyone their offers. Tomorrow, typically, would be the day I bring Ms. Kayama to lecture everyone on a proper code name, as you'll be needing them in your work studies."
His head snapped to the side.
"Midnight?" Aizawa prompted. 1A flinched as a whole, a shot probing glances all around them. Nobody noticed her silhouette distinguishing itself from a nearby alley until she strutted into the sun. She wore her full costume.
This wasn't their art history teacher, or the reserved woman he invited to his gymnasium-party. Her aura entirely belonged to her persona.
"Hello class," she purred, throwing 1A a wink. She lingered on Kirishima, glancing at something near his hands, before settling on Izuku. "And goodbye, right?"
"I'm not going far," Izuku said, in a small voice. She shook her head.
"No, you're going very far indeed. While 1A begins their work study, 1Z will take their license exams. After that, they'll be heading straight for the streets—and those are a far cry from U.A.'s meticulous lawn. I know you know that, Mido," Midnight said, before flicking her eyes to 1A and back. "But do they?"
It was Shiozaki who ultimately nodded. Kirishima seemed torn, standing apart from everyone, but his quiet nod echoed and reinforced her's.
"We do," Shiozaki said, just as quiet as Izuku had, but with more confidence. Without acknowledging him, she continued. "He's very capable, and deserves the position. In good time, we all… we all hope to emulate him. The country yearns for it."
A silent consensus passed between the two women. An even quieter consensus passed between 1A and the teachers as a whole. Izuku fidgeted.
He couldn't say for certain, but he figured by Midnight's reaction that Aizawa might've told her about the reveal. Then again… he'd never seen Midnight's composure crack the way it did. She glanced at Aizawa, and then Izuku, before meeting Shiozaki's eyes. A flicker of the woman beneath shined through as she softened.
"...So you do, then. So you do…" Ms. Kayma said, before straightening. A closed smile stretched her lipstick from cheek to cheek. "Then you understand the necessity of today's exercise, right?"
She gestured to Izuku, then.
"Hero names must encapsulate your vision. They must be memorable, short, and soulful. Creating them requires a grounded sense of self and an artistic touch, which is why you remember the name of some heroes and not others. Edgeshot. Endeavor. Midnight," she said, and glanced at Izuku. "...and All Might, for example."
She allowed her words to settle before continuing.
"These took years to craft and solidify, but they all started somewhere. Today is that day for you all. Now, explore the city, run wild, and ask yourselves your important question. In one hour, return with your prototypes and share your findings! While you all have two weeks to decide, Midoriya needs his by tomorrow, and I think we all know this kid's mind can't settle on something for anything! As a parting gift, let's help him out, yeah?"
1A didn't react until Aizawa sighed.
"Calling this any but recess is insulting to your intelligence. I don't agree with this method… but I was never an artist by any stretch. Exercise your creativity. Generate ideas. Return and report. Go."
With a snap, he waved them away, and 1A understood that yes, they were getting free reign on their activity.
"Yes sir!" Shiozaki shouted, shooting her vines to the nearest building and swinging away. Sero emulated her, and the crowd broke apart as 1A scattered. Izuku, still too stunned to speak, just blinked when Midnight whipped around.
"Now, while they're having fun… Kirishima, Uraraka, join us inside," Midnight said, and turned for the nearest building. Aizawa was already gone.
Without any other choice, Midoriya went with them.
[x]
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