Izuku, if not for Setsuna, would've gotten on the wrong train. As per the day of Orientation, he'd made his way to her house and picked her up, escorting her to school. All was well until they arrived at the station. He'd navigated to Setsuna's just fine, but when a train came screeching to a stop at their platform, he didn't think twice about attempting to board.
Then, soft fingers snatched his blazer's back, and his mistake bore no consequences.
He blinked, wide-eyed at the train's number, then the boarding time on his phone, and finally the direction it was going. Turning, he saw Setsuna's quirked eyebrow and quiet laughter.
"T-thanks. I guess I'm still groggy." He said, when she let go. Her laughter died, but the warmth it provided her cheeks never faded.
"You're always groggy, Izu. It's your charm."
His ears went pink at his "charm" being mentioned, but he couldn't help the stir of disagreement in his chest.
"No, no," he said, shaking his head. "No way being groggy is my charm. It's gotta be something else."
Setsuna didn't reply. The silence they fell into was pleasant, and when the next train came, they boarded with no issue.
For whatever reason, this morning's train was less busy than normal, and they actually snagged a pair of seats. With no seniors, pregnant women, or children, they claimed their chairs with silent exuberance. The awe of a silent train ride kept the both of them quiet, unwilling to break the serenity of their cabin.
After a time of daydreaming, Izuku felt a small weight on his shoulder. He turned, expecting Setsuna to be requesting his attention in some silent form, yet what he saw made him blush up to his scalp. Her ear pressed against his shoulder as she rested against him.
With a hammering, crazed heart, he leaned back into his chair and let her sleep. Perhaps he wasn't the only one who was groggy.
It was almost funny. She leaned into him, growing sleepier and sleepier, yet he grew more and more energetic. By the time their train passed their half-way point, he was wide-awake. He was a solar panel, and she the sun.
With his growing vibrance, however, came the natural hurdles of his mind. It grew resentful of his perfect little moment, upset with him for enjoying himself—and he knew this, because alongside his alertness, so too did his anxiety grow.
Their time was beginning to run out. In two months time, the Sports Festival would come and go—and they'd begin making their difference in the world. That… that was exactly what they wanted. What he wanted. What she wanted.
But… It was still scary. He wasn't particularly afraid of getting himself hurt, but this… situationship he had with Setsuna complicated everything. Izuku imagined, for a second, running amongst fire and brimstone and bullets flying overhead. Crumbling buildings. Rescue helicopters. Blood. He imagined the sheer precision, efficiency, and presence of mind he'd need to function.
It was something he couldn't truly share with Setsuna, with One for All holding the truth hostage. Sure, no one knew him as well as she, but that was a problem. Between himself and the rest of 1Z, there was an obvious gap. He knew their names, hero and civilian, their basic powers, their proficiencies, but he didn't know… most of them… personally. He could work with an impersonal, professional setting. What worried him was the infinitesimal gap between himself and Setsuna.
That invisible hump, that imperceptible ridge, that microscopic dissonance between them that he only felt in the most quiet moments. What if, in some important moment, that nearly impossible problem surfaced when a life was at stake? He could work with red-flags, flighty professionals, and inefficient heroes. He couldn't work with something so personal, so intimate and elusive. That scared him the most about working with 1Z.
And, of course, Ground Zero.
"Mmmm." Setsuna hummed, stirring. He could see how her eyes fluttered open, but her head stayed lodged in the crook of his neck.
"Good morning." He whispered. She said nothing in return, but the weight on his shoulder increased, and he took it as the response it might've been.
He needed to figure something out. There must be something he could do to remedy their gap—if not for their personal sakes, then for their professional ones. Izuku could never allow his possession of One for All to hurt her. He'd rather die.
His eyes slid down to her scalp, not for the first time or even the fifteenth. He couldn't help but wonder. Did she feel it too?
The rest of the train ride passed in silence. Izuku, with great reluctance, nudged Setsuna to her feet and guided her off the train. From the station, they made their way straight to U.A.
Setsuna stayed close to him. Closer than usual. Her thumb pinched the hem of his silver blazer between her crooked pointer, and never once did she stray far enough to warrant letting go.
Only when they arrived at U.A.'s gates did she release his blazer, but not him. Immediately, she made a show of inspecting him. A lot of her attention hovered around his tie, which his mom made, and his sleeve, which his mom also cut and sewed shut.
"You're right." She said, forcing him to spin for her. Her thumb and pointer massaged her chin as he humored her, red in the face. "Your charm is certainly something else. I like you being more alert."
Struggling through his blush, he delivered upon her a look to end all looks. Or so he thought.
"That's funny. I think I like you sleeping more."
What he thought would have conquered her only served to unmake him.
"Oh, I wasn't sleeping."
The heat infesting his freckles turned nuclear. Setsuna took him by the hem of his blazer once again, laughing all the while as he covered his eyes with his hand.
He trusted her to guide him safely along the path as he recovered, but instead of the long walk he expected, he crashed into her back. Izuku opened his eyes to see what was wrong—and then understood.
Nighteye was in the middle of their path, briefcase in hand, waiting. The dozen or so students between them and the Pro Hero split around him, too scared to approach, and thus he became a median between two rivers. Setsuna let go of his blazer.
The man said nothing as they approached. They received a cascade of alarmed looks as they stopped before him, followed by incredulous surprise as Nighteye acknowledged them.
"Tokage." He said, nodding her way before the whole weight of his purple radiance settled on Izuku. "Izuku."
He felt his mouth go dry. Izuku hadn't seen Nighteye since before Orientation. He hadn't expected to. Their training was on hold until next week, and the man was otherwise busy. Seeing him here, however… It was surprising, but not confusing. Before even addressing him back, he turned to Setsuna, placing his hand on her shoulder.
"Enjoy class, kay? Tell me about it tonight. We'll call."
Her eyes widened, flicking between him, Nighteye, and U.A.'s main building. Setsuna's eyes traced something in the air he couldn't see, but when they settled back on him, they were hard.
"You'll give them hell, right?"
A flicker of something fluctuated in his gut, and he looked aside.
"I'll be civil. No point in making them more upset."
"That's unacceptable. You have to—"
"Set," Izuku said, speaking a bit softer. "I'll do what I have to, and leave the giving hell part to you. I'm sure Eraser—Aizawa won't know what hit him."
She maintained the ferocity in her gaze a bit longer before her shoulders slumped.
"Gotcha. Just don't let them walk all over you."
That flux in his gut flexed again, and a certain void-like calm overcame him, easing away his doubts.
"That, I can promise."
He gave her shoulder one last squeeze before pushing her towards the 1Z building. Joining Nighteye's side, he nodded at the man and they made their way. They made no effort to disguise each other's company, and found substantial attention on them.
They passed 1A's room, and Izuku longed to slip from Nighteye's vigilance and throw out a quick greeting—but then his eyes caught on Aizawa's, and he gave a single, sharp nod. The last thing he saw from 1A was Kirishima's confused gaze as he peered into the hall.
"How are classes treating you?" Nighteye asked, when the halls began to thin and bells began to ring.
"...Ms. Fuji is great as usual. So is Dr. Heart, Mr. Kazui, and—"
"Oh yes, I'd almost forgotten that… Congratulations on the higher education, Izuku. Not every hero gets the chance to learn at a University. Their younger days are typically too… busy."
"I can see that, I think," Izuku said, glancing as a semi-familiar bluenette jogged down the hall, sluggish with sleep and messy with rest. She was in such a hurry that she didn't even notice them. Hado, was it? "I'm already feeling busy. I'm glad I'm only doing the core STEM classes and Ms. Fuji's stuff. Anymore and I wouldn't have time to rest between sets."
"Mm. Be careful it doesn't overwhelm you. In any case, that is not what I meant. How goes… Hero Introduction, was it?"
"Introduction to Heroics, I think."
"Ah. Well?"
Izuku took a long moment to answer, considering his response. On one hand, it was underwhelming. His peers had talent, but few represented challenges in terms of skill. Because of that, the exercises felt almost naked in terms of complexity. Still, they had insight and skill sets he did not, and he found a certain joy in picking those assets apart and assimilating them for himself.
That showed itself more than anything in their review of his match, yesterday. Perhaps he'd been a bit reckless, blowing apart the ceiling. He'd done so with a great deal of careful calculation, and no one was worse off for it—but it still wasn't optimal. As many pointed out, he'd nearly let Mezou overwhelm him after a lapse in judgment. His absolute victory nearly slipped out from under him. He only won thanks to his failsafe—which caused him to sacrifice the building's top floor.
Ultimately, however, he liked to think he gained some respect after that—though a few remained distant. It hurt his feelings, but he forced himself to swallow it down. Perhaps there was something he could do to convince the whole class in one fell swoop, but if there was, he didn't know it.
Chewing on his classmate's distance was hard, but the friends he'd acquired made the act of swallowing much easier. Kirishima, for one, was a source of sunshine he'd never known he'd needed. Hitoshi and Tokoyami, too, made him feel far more respected than he probably was. Then there were the girls, Uraraka and Ashido… and Toru.
His face flushed, thinking of how he'd tried to offer some friendly advice, and ended up talking about her body. By no means did want to take the advice back, but he wished he hadn't made it so weird in the moment. Regardless, her eyes seemed to shine with the idea, so to speak, and he hoped beyond hope that he hadn't led her on. Their fight was so much fun, and he'd love to "see" her in combat again when she wasn't worried about her… chest.
Izuku couldn't exactly see her, of course—but with a near-invisible cloud of Smokescreen and a liberal application of Danger Sense, he could make out her general expressions and form. That, and when he captured her with tape and Blackwhip, he'd noticed her—
He cleared his mind of such thoughts. Izuku and Toru became partners on Aizawa's hero costume assignment, and thus her costume, or lack thereof, was on his mind—but he had his boundaries, so she was sure to have hers. That being said, he was beginning to get a little excited. He was curious for what she'd design—especially after spending most of last night brainstorming himself.
Izuku remembered Nighteye's question, and answered honestly.
"It's alright, sir. I like my class, especially the people who like me, but even the ones who are a little… distant are cool. That being said, I miss actually learning things. I'm excited to get back in the gym. I want to…"
He trailed off, remembering his dilemma. His twin, paradoxical promises.
To master One for All.
To defeat Shouta Aizawa.
Nighteye glanced at him, but made no effort to press him further.
When they stopped, in unison, before Nedzu's office, Izuku felt the ice-like chill return. He set his shoulders, straightened his chin, and inhaled. Standing before here, knowing what was about to happen, brought out even more memories.
He wanted to throw a tantrum. He wanted to scream. He wanted to complain and mutter and kick his feet. He didn't want to talk to Nedzu—he just wanted things amended and fixed.
He'd made more promises than just his paradoxical ones.
To not let them walk all over him.
To be careful.
To never give up.
To be the next Symbol of Peace.
To live his life with honor, in service to others.
He didn't bother knocking. Izuku placed a firm hand on the door and pushed. When it creaked open, he exhaled and stepped forward, Nighteye's fearless hand settled on his shoulder.
Nedzu didn't look half as surprised at their appearance as Izuku felt at Nighteye's outside. If he knew of their approach, suspected it, or was just a master of playing off his surprise, Izuku did not know. The little white principal did not arise from his seat, nor did he wave or smile. Instead, he opened his mouth, revealing rows of tiny white arrowheads—each sharp enough to cut into him from across the room.
"Hello, Mirai." He said, the length of his snout shifting as he looked down. "...Hello, Nine. It's good seeing you. It's been a while."
Izuku parted his lips to respond, but only air came out. He worked his jaw, trying to speak, but after a point, he could only manage to express his forefront thought.
"...I saw you two days ago."
"Perhaps you are correct, in a sense—but did you really? Did we come face to face with honesty between us? Did I speak to a promising academic, or the Ninth? So, in a sense, this is our first meeting. Wouldn't you agree, Plato?"
The words had an unfamiliar tinge to them, Izuku noted. His dark eyes held a pale imitation of the exuberance from yesterday's public appearance—hell, even his fur seemed less vibrant. More cotton than silk.
Nighteye pushed his glasses up his long nose.
"The time has come, principal. You know as well as I that the pieces are beginning to fall." He said, before striding forward and taking his place in a guest seat. Izuku hovered, hesitant, but Nighteye summoned him with a glance. The guest chairs were comfortable. Nedzu said nothing as they settled themselves. Instead, he put away whatever he'd been working on before they arrived, clearing his desk of distractions. With one paw flat over the other, he seemed the epitome of relaxation—yet even a dull-headed Izuku could feel the room's tension.
For a brief instance, the principal's eyes shone—alive and fire and stars in the night—and then there was nothing. Not even an impression. As if there was nothing to begin with.
"What on earth could prompt this meeting, hm? What pieces could you refer to?" He asked, and his voice was small but steady—such in a way Izuku felt discomfort.
Nighteye didn't verbally reply. Instead, the contents of his briefcase popped open. From within, he retrieved a single beige envelope, and dropped it between the three of them. It was part-way undone, and the landing shook the container of its contents. A photograph slipped out—black and white—and Izuku absently noted the blood. The space behind his eyes had long since turned to pins and needles.
"An agent of the commission with top-level security was found dead in the Labyrinth. It happened an hour after myself and a collective few heroes had a discussion on the Crow—a meeting you spawned."
"I have no affiliation with the Commission, Mirai. Less than affiliation, even. Animosity. I have no power over their meeting schedules."
"Don't be coy. Your ties with the Commission grew ever more intimate with the introduction of Hawks into your staff. You fed him information, which in turn forced his hand in relaying such to the Commission and consequently me. This is a leak in national security, sir—and you're the indirect case."
"On what basis is this a leak?" Nedzu asked, before reaching across the desk and plucking the photo out of the pile. "This seems to be a murder."
"You of all people should know that murders in places like the Labyrinth are more than such. The typical offenders simply do not have the fortitude nor the skills for the espionage required—no, a professional gutted this man for information, and we have to assume they know everything he knew from our last meeting."
"Which is?"
"That you believe the Crow's next target is U.A."
Nedzu leaned back in his chair, releasing the photo back to the pile. Nighteye didn't wait for a response. Instead, he reached into his briefcase and retrieved another envelope—but he didn't pass this one to Nedzu. Instead, he handed this one to Izuku. He didn't open it.
"...You do?" Izuku asked, glancing between his principal and his mentor. Nedzu looked at him, no expression, and nodded.
"Of course. U.A. is the last piece of major infrastructure the Crow has yet to attack. Even if I didn't believe that our intrinsic value as a target is the backbone of their potential motivation—it's simple math. We're the last of the untouched resources—schools. Logic says schools are next, and we are the best."
Izuku blinked.
"...Okay."
Nedzu did not blink.
From the position Izuku sat, he could not differentiate between Nighteye scowling or closing his eyes. All he saw was the crunch of his crow's feet and the stern pressure of his jaw. He looked hard.
Nedzu turned to Nighteye, then.
"So you've come here today because you believe I've somehow omnisciently orchestrated a catastrophe for my own school."
"Revealing your roster of 1Z helped."
"I showed their faces, teased their abilities, and unveiled their professional names. It's insurance against assault—both against the school and the prefect. A strong front. They're otherwise perfectly anonymous and safe. Besides the Todoroki boy, of course."
"Not yet they aren't. Until 1Z actually does something, they're an empty threat. More than anything, you've painted a target on the back of your "Ten Sabers."
Nedzu's mouth opened at the mention of "Ten Sabers," but when he spoke, it was not on the topic of swords.
"Did you know that since this morning, one man was stabbed downtown?"
"A bank was robbed." Nighteye said.
"As was a grocery store." Nedzu replied, and his voice was almost humorous..
"And?"
"And that's it. A remarkable morning, if I'd say so myself."
"You call murder and burglary remarkable?"
"He didn't die. I call battery and theft remarkable when by lunch I'm typically combing through fresh obituary pages like they're the weather forecast. 1Z's existence instills fear into criminals, and they haven't even taken down a purse-snatcher yet. It's been a day, Mirai, and already things look so different. Easier. Familiar…"
Nedzu trailed off, his expansive pupils shifting to Izuku's. The eye contact didn't last more than a breath before Nedzu broke it off.
"They aren't Toshinori, principal." Nighteye said, simple and flat and monotone. "No one ever will be—except Izuku. Have you deluded yourself into thinking otherwise?"
Izuku's lips parted against his will, but no words came out.
"He's a child. He isn't ready for that burden."
"They are as well!" Nighteye said, rising to his feet. "If your primary concern has always been protecting children, then starting with Izuku means you missed the starting line by forty god-damn years!"
"They don't have to be All Might, Mirai! They're to be a team! If we take All Might's burden and split it tenfold, the burden is ten times easier! Divide and conquer!"
Nighteye's angry scowl smoothed over in an instant.
"Toshi carried Japan on his back. What do you want the Tokage girl to do, eh? Hold Tokyo in her palm? Juggle Okinawa? Bench press goddamn Hiroshima? No, principal. No. You know she can't do that. The Legacy kids can't. You know this. I know you know this."
"You know nothing of the machinations of my mind."
"Of course I do, principal. Have you not noticed that in every single instance you've dug up All Might's burden, you've divided it by a magnitude? Not nine? How dare you assume after all the mud you've dragged my student through, we'd still work with you—"
"Nighteye," Izuku started, but the man bulldozed right over him.
"Hell, I hear Shiketsu is rather desperate for some power this year! With your gluttony, you've stolen all the talent for the rest of them. For what purpose? To imitate All Might? You know it'll never work, and now you've left them starved! I'm sure they'd welcome—"
"Sir."
"Don't be a fool, Plato. Transferring now would require my goodwill, which I'm capable of withholding at my whim. Don't come to my office on an empty threat. What was the first thing I taught you of strategy—"
"Principal. Please, I—"
"Strategy!? You want to judge my ability to strategize!? Ah yes, because the hoops you've forced us through have been gilded, that must mean they aren't inherently foolish? It seems to me, Socrates, that the biggest fool here is you. I think we're done here. I'm not tolerating—"
"Sir Nighteye! Principal Nedzu!" Izuku said, his voice cracking to a near-yell. He didn't know what possessed him, but when Izuku blinked, he found he moved—from the comfortable guest seats to the principal's desk, his sneakers planted firmly on the mahogany top. It was the only way for him to be taller than Nighteye's full height.
The Futuresight Hero, despite his fortune-telling prowess, seemed to have failed to predict Izuku's impulsivity. Opposite him, Nedzu's reaction was similarly stunned—for the first time since arriving, Izuku caught Nedzu blinking.
"Just…" Izuku said, glancing between both men, ignoring the growing embarrassment in his chest. "Just stop. Just stop, please. We're here to discuss me, not argue over… over All Might."
Those last words came out half-choked, but they understood. Nightey's posture seemed to slump as he pried angry hands off the principal's desk, and the white creature seemed to ease, his bristled fur smoothing over. Izuku blinked, and soon realized Nighteye sat back down too—meaning he was the only one standing, and on the principal of U.A.'s desk at that.
He mumbled an apology as he slid to the floor.
Izuku expected the two to pick back up a discussion, hopefully more civil this time, but instead, they were both silent. After enduring a moment of their stares, it occurred to him that they were waiting for him.
Without anything to say outright, he did the only thing he could think of. He pried open the wax seal on Nighteye's envelope and dumped the contents onto the desk.
No one said anything as Izuku made eye contact with himself. It was his ID, enlarged and printed, alongside a cascade of notes. None of them were in Nighteye's handwriting.
It didn't take long to figure out whose it was, however—whoever wrote this, it seemed like they didn't have the opposable thumbs to use a proper pen. His eyes flicked to Nedzu's paws and back down. He retrieved a single piece of paper, shoved between two larger, thicker papers. It was a wrinkled, thin little thing.
"Izuku Midoriya: Success. Asset: One for All." He read aloud. Izuku looked up, and contorted his expression to match his feelings—tired. Exhausted, in a sense—but more spiritually than mentally. He wanted the espionage to end. He didn't want to hop through anymore hoops. Most of all—he wanted this settled.
"What do you want, principal?" He asked, and the words came out crystal.
Despite his clarity, however, it was as if the question didn't compute in the rat's brain. Like he simply didn't understand. It took a long time for an actual answer to escape the man's sharp little teeth and smart little mouth. Yet what came out wasn't harsh and miniscule, but soft and grand—contrary to everything before.
"...I have a dream where violence is gone. To men," he began, his eyes flicking to Nighteye, "to myself, and to all else who live under the sun. Where crime is a shriveled, forgotten thing of the past."
"And why, then," Izuku started, pausing to suck in a breath, "are you stopping me from advancing that dream to reality? We both know what I have. What I'll be."
"Do we? Do we really know what you'll be, Nine? I know what you were. I know what you are. Beyond that, however? Even my calculations are unsure. You… you make me nervous."
Izuku didn't say anything. He just tilted his head, confused, and the rat explained himself after a moment of labored breathing.
"To my understanding, the most fundamental law of the quirk is that it grows over time. Yet… yet you are a total anomaly. Not only have you somehow unlocked the past user's quirks, you seem to entirely lack Toshinori's strength. What boggles my mind is that the quirk only grows, yet you seem to regress. You scored an incredible score, Nine, do not misunderstand—but your performance in the practical was outshone by your predecessor. Your 199… his 200… the idea that his successor doesn't score higher than him is worrying."
Izuku blinked. Something familiar twisted in his gut, coagulated in his ears, reverberated through his skull—but at the same time, nothing happened at all. When he spoke, it wasn't as hard as the feelings implied—no, the words came easily.
"Maybe. But you have no concept of the power I have. You have no metric to judge if that's a fair assessment or not. I may not be… All Might… now. But I can be. I can be, if you just allow me to."
Nighteye remained silent throughout it all. A small, alien noise rumbled from the back of Nedzu's throat.
"But do you want to?" Nedzu asked, and the question was like a cold splash of water. "Maybe you have what it takes to be the best Ninth. Maybe my preparations and doubts are misplaced. Maybe you can be him. But do you want to?"
The words were like a swarm of bees in his ears.
"But do you want to be All Might?" He repeated.
The question stopped the turning of all the cogs in his brain. His gears stopped spinning, their teeth stopped biting. Thoughts slowed to an agonizing crawl. He was far away.
He'd always wanted to be like Eight… but did he want to replace him?
That cold indifference from earlier re-emerged, and Izuku found the tips of his fingers bloodless and iced.
Did he want to be All Might? Sure, he wanted to be a symbol, but…
His stomach felt like a grotesque uzumaki as it twisted over itself, crushing his intestines against his pelvis and ribs and spine. The cold infusing his fingers spread inwards, crawling towards his chest and encroaching his heart. He was so cold he felt solid—and brittle, too, like a single flick could crack him in half.
Then, something odd happened. His peripherals went alight, like a fire broke out in the office. When his eyes shot to the sudden flame, however, the brightness followed like sunspots.
Banjo? He asked, silent, in his head—but to no response.
The flame grew, then, but he couldn't move with his body encased in ice. Neither Nedzu nor Nighteye seemed to notice—he wasn't able to call out for their help. The fire would consume him in silence, and he would become a burned husk without so much as a touch of help—
It touched his cheek and he felt the ice melt around his jaw, his tongue loosened with it.
The words came from somewhere Izuku couldn't identify, but they came out, and he had no power to stop them—nor any desire.
"I don't think All Might wanted to be All Might," Izuku said, and the words felt easy and saying the name felt easier than it had in years and—"Once he had the option, the choice was made for him. That was just who he was. Who I am. I will be what I must because that's who I am."
Nighteye spun on him, then, his soft, thoughtful gaze turning wide and frantic.
"What did you just say?" He asked, but Izuku paid his mentor little mind as his eyes settled back on Nedzu, the pins and needles behind his sockets burned away.
"...I want U.A.," Izuku continued, only pausing to drink in his first gulp of oxygen since his jaw froze over. "It's always been a dream of mine—a dream I've possessed longer than I ever had two arms. You want a Symbol of Peace? Let me into 1Z. I can't carry Japan on my back now, but with them… it's as you said. Dividing the burden until I'm ready will make the transition easy."
Nedzu ran a tongue over his canines.
"It's not that simple. Your history of mental fragility combined with—"
"I go to therapy. I train every day. I've seen action—and I know you know that, since I see news clippings from the bridge in the file you made. Have me psychologically evaluated. Test me physically. Make me do a backflip—I don't care what it is. Set parameters. I promise I'll shatter them."
Nedzu was silent for no longer than five seconds before he sighed. Reaching behind his desk, he retrieved a pen and a small stack of papers. He combed through them, plucked 20 from a stack of 100, and replaced 80.
"If you're so set on this, fine. In addition to your therapy sessions, I want a mental evaluation once a week from now until the Sports Festival. If you pass each trial, I'll want to see gold around your neck. Don't think it'll be easy. 1Z will be competing."
Nighteye, still on edge thanks to some invisible memory behind his eyes, leaned forward. His purple gaze flashed, and Izuku felt that warmth from before flicker within.
"You're putting his future—the whole of this country—on the tip of a needle, and telling him to balance it. You are inhuman, Nedzu. The Sports Festival is a terrible metric."
Izuku glanced at Nighteye, and that inner warmth wriggled once more—but it was more than whatever alien appreciation One for All developed for the man. It was his own appreciation too.
"Sir," he said, and his voice was even. "Didn't you hear? I made a promise just now. And I intend to keep all my promises. I'd rather put the risk on my own ability, rather than trusting his good faith blindly. I've learned more skepticism in the last two weeks than in my whole life."
Nighteye looked uneasy at the prospect, but to his surprise, Nedzu seemed to smile. If, granted, in his mammalian, rat-bear-dog-like way.
"Ah," he said, his smile widening. "Good. Toshinori took far too long in that regard."
He uncapped an ink pen, and pushed forward the first of many papers to come.
"Let's formalize this, then."
[x]
Nighteye watched Izuku's back grow smaller with distance as he made his way down the hall. Negotiations, signatures, and all of Nedzu's odd-ended paperwork requirements were done and over with. Perhaps it shouldn't have taken until lunch, but Nighteye was thorough. He would never sign a paper Nedzu gave him without intense scrutiny.
He gathered his things in silence. Nedzu said nothing as he retrieved his envelopes and photographs—nor when he grabbed a copy of Nedzu's documents. With a soft click, his suitcase closed.
His tie was a little off. He adjusted it.
There was a crease in his sock. He kneeled to even it out.
A small ball of lint manifested in his coat pocket. He tossed it in the trash.
One of his bangs felt out of place.
Smudges on his glasses needed cleaning.
His watch's clock was off by two seconds compared to his phone's digital time.
When Nedzu continued to say nothing, he couldn't take it anymore.
"Will you truly jeopardize the entire future of Japan if Izuku can not get a gold medal in your stupid event?"
Nedzu paused, then, glancing up at him from where he sat over some paperwork. If Nighteye hadn't known better, he might've said the intrusion annoyed the rat—like he'd interrupted something important. Funny thing, however, was that he knew better. Whatever Nedzu was reading, it was far less important than the future of fucking Japan.
"...It's not some stupid event, Plato. U.A. is about image. Has been for forty years. There is nothing more vital for the strength of hope than faith, and confidence in us inspires faith. What on earth could we possibly do to inspire more confidence than flexing our biceps?"
"Still. It's arbitrary and unnecessary. I understand Izuku's love for U.A. I do not understand his tolerance."
Nedzu sighed, leaned back in his chair, and pushed his paperwork away.
"Arbitrary and unnecessary? How on earth do you figure we maintain our passive 22% crime deterrent? By building a beautiful glass skyscraper behind locked gates? By hiding our prowess? By asking crime to just please stop? No. Just no. The Sports Festival is just as much a chance for our students to catch the eye of prospective mentors as it is a chance for the public to root for something. Something bigger than themselves—something that can assure their safety."
Nighteye said nothing, but his grip on his suitcase handle grew ever-so-slightly tighter.
"He doesn't have a need for the Sports Festival, however, does he? Nine has a mentor. Two. Gods above—you could even hand Endeavor the bronze medal too. He has all the guidance he'll ever need. For him, there is no intrinsic value in the Sports Festival. No conventional one, at least—the one we sell to all our other students."
His knuckles were whiter than a ghost around his suitcase handle.
"You…" Nighteye began, before his teeth grit and his anger overwhelmed his ability to speak. "You just don't know when to stop, do you? You're dangling his entire future over a… what? A performance? For U.A.'s image?"
"It is quite the motivator, yes. Though I wouldn't say dangling—nor was this all by greater design. He is still the Wildcard, Mirai. When he makes his splash, I'm just taking steps to make sure those waves don't come back to drown us. If that means holding him back, so be it. If that means sitting him down in a therapy room and evaluating him, so be it. If that means manufacturing a goal for him, so be it. I will see him at his best, Mirai, and just like our little Ninth, that is my promise to make."
Only when the physical creaking of his suitcase handle pierced his ears did he relax his grip. There was righteous anger within him, but he thought to Izuku—calm, malleable, tired—and forced himself to relax. He turned to leave, opening the office door without so much as a goodbye—but couldn't do it.
He gave the small rat-creature one last look.
"I don't think I'll ever forgive you for stringing along my student… but that is still up in the air for him. Unlike me, he's got something special—something special enough to not eradicate you where you stand. There's still time for that, however—so remember this, principal. You can still be better. The nasty decisions you've made are salvageable. Good day. I hope we won't talk again for a long time."
He closed the door before Nedzu could respond, and left him time to reflect.
[x]
Izuku thanked Lunch Rush at least twice before dragging his feet to the cafeteria. He hadn't eaten in one since Elementary School, but couldn't bring himself to be nervous. After formalizing his deal with Nedzu for almost three hours…
He sighed. Looking around the cafeteria, he didn't see any familiar faces—at least at first.
"Midoriya!"
"Bro!"
Uraraka and Kirishima's voices pierced the low buzz of the lunch room. Their voices guided his feet to a large booth on the far-side of the room. When he found them, he felt surprised—of course, he was kind of expecting the usual. Kirishima, Uraraka, Tokoyami, and Hitoshi—but he found the group widening. Between everyone, Ashido had shoved herself in, alongside Toru. Towards the center, they made an extra large space for Mezou.
He blinked. They were all squeezed together rather tightly—even a little uncomfortably. If he was honest… It was sweet. Izuku didn't have the energy to complain about their accommodations—and it wasn't like he took up a lot of space himself. Not having an arm had its perks.
Sliding into the outermost seat, he set down his tray and began picking at his food.
The compact booth was silent, for a moment, as if waiting for something—then Kirishima couldn't take it anymore.
"Why were you with Nighteye?" He asked, his voice conserved but dripping with curiosity. Each and every face leaned forward, and Izuku encountered the most substantial peer pressure he'd ever experienced.
He thought about lying, but he felt tired, and a good lie required a lot of energy.
"'M mentor. Needed a meeting with th' principal."
"Wait…" Kirishima said, glancing between Izuku and the rest of the group. "Like… Sir Nighteye is your mentor? Like you talk to him regularly? And… you're friends with Endeavor's kid. Have you met Endeavor?"
He swallowed down a spoonful of broth.
"Sure," Izuku said, peppering his lips with a napkin. "Shoto is cool. I hang out with him and eat at his place regularly enough. It's nothing special."
"Wait! Shoto? Like the guy we hung out with? Endeavor's? Kid? Huh?" Ashido said, slamming her palms on the table. Spoons and forks and chopsticks rattled. A dozen or so eyes leapt to her. Before she could explain herself, Izuku nodded.
"Mhm." He said, glancing at the odd looks on everyone else's expression. Izuku didn't understand their reaction. It just didn't seem warranted, the way they eyed the pink girl with suspicion. "You saw them; my friends. Lizardy and Heatseeker."
Mezou's upper left hand morphed into a mouth.
"So you're friends with two members of 1Z, familiar with two pro heroes, and are just… nonchalant about it? I'm afraid if I hadn't seen you in action already I would've called it far-fetched."
"I'm more interested in the fact that he knows two crazy popular pro-heroes," Uraraka said, pausing to inhale a mouthful of noodles. "No offense to 1Z or anything, but it's not like they're nearly on the same level. Knowing a pro-hero personally is wild."
"Oh, I'm not so sure about that," a voice said from behind him. Izuku blinked, looking down as a thin, pale hand darted to his tray and snatched his bread roll. Setsuna took a small bite of it, swallowed without chewing, and smiled. "You have to fight a pro to be in Z, y'know? You shoulda seen Izu's attempt. Knocked Aizawa right on his fucking ass. Bastard cheated though."
Eyes all across the booth blinked, uncomprehending, except for two. Ashido waved, smiling like a kid on christmas. Kirishima blinked, then laughed. Toru's shoulders shifted in confusion, seeing her appearance, and Uraraka looked like she'd seen a ghost as Mina's next words hit her ears.
"Hi Setsuna!"
"Yo!"
Izuku didn't greet her so much as give her a look, hidden from the rest of the booth. Her grin stretched to her cheeks as she blinked at him twice, once slowly, once hard, and he understood. He nodded at her—and some invisible tension seemed to vacate her shoulders.
Before he had a chance to stop her, she swung a leg over his slipped into his lap. She took another bite of his bread roll. Whereas his knees faced straight forward, her's pointed inwards, towards the wall, leaving her side pressed into his chest. He spluttered, shocked as she slipped an elbow behind his neck and relaxed. She took a final bite of his roll, and it disappeared.
Izuku became very aware of everything and everyone for the next minute. Every single person looked in his direction, every flavor of confusion evident in their eyes. People passed by staring, then whispering, then hurrying away. He did his best to ignore the cafeteria, and focus on the booth—but even there, he received hard stares from the girls and wide-eyes from the boys. Perhaps he shouldn't have negotiated with Nedzu—otherwise, he would've had the reaction time to stop her. Now that she was here, however, he couldn't bring himself to remove her. Reaching around her waist, he retrieved his lunch, eating it as if there was no beautiful girl in his lap.
The first to overcome their shock was Tokoyami, who nodded, though his gaze couldn't settle on either himself or Ashido.
"I… I recalled… Midoriya… saying something of the same vein. Apparently their duel, no offense… Midoriya… was rather one-sided."
Izuku nodded, too focused on chewing to say anything. Setsuna, on the other hand, seemed content to eat his lunch with far more efficiency, which unfortunately allowed her the opportunity to speak.
"Well, yeah, but it wasn't like it was fair. It was a quirk-combat exam, and Eraserhead just goes and throws that out the window. It was actually the most frustrating thing ever."
He tapped on her spine, hoping she would quit embarrassing him—but no such luck.
Hitoshi spoke up, then, after holding steady eye-contact with the table for the better part of the meal.
"So you're Nighteye's student… and you're..?" He said, looking first to Izuku and then to Setsuna. The elbow wrapped around the back of his neck squeezed a bit, pulling him into her side.
"I got in 'cause Izu's friends with an old dog named Torino. He's one of those retired heroes that renewed their license a few years back. I don't recommend looking him in the eye, let alone learning from him. Still, it got me here, and I have this moron to thank."
"She thrashed Vlad King. The 1B teacher." Izuku said, trying his best to redirect the attention, but it only seemed to backfire.
"Vlad King!? Kirishima asked, leaning forward with wide eyes. "You beat Vlad King? For real? And you're…"
Kirishima circled between looking at Setsuna and Izuku. He said nothing, but after a moment, his eyes fluttered, as if having acquired some new understanding. His back hit the booth's cushions with a soft thud.
"Wow…"
"Wait, so did every 1Z student beat a teacher?" Uraraka said, cutting through Kirishima's revelation. Her voice was curt, and her glare somewhat tight. The question hung in the air as Setsuna and Uraraka stared at each other. A shiver traveled down his neck, but Setsuna strengthened her grip, and he forgot everything that wasn't her. He had a feeling there was a second question under the first, but with his mind already tired, he tried to move the moment along.
"No, you just had to get approval—though if you outright won, then your approval was guaranteed. Let me see… Battle Fist, Phantom Thief, and… Ground Zero lost, right?" Izuku said, before looking at Setsuna.
She did a half-shrug. Her grip on him loosened, now that the attention shifted, but it was still tighter than before.
"Don't have a clue. Most of my memories of the colosseum came from after-the-fact. And it's not like I'm gonna go asking around. Seems rude. Don't know who'd take it well and who wouldn't."
"Mm. I can think of at least one reason… not to… ask…"
Something clicked in his mind, and a flush of excitement flowed through him. He glanced at his phone, and seeing how lunch was almost up, he pinched Setsuna's thigh. Despite his earlier, weaker pleadings, this lone pinch conveyed a serious desire for freedom, and he loved that she recognized that in a moment. She slipped out of his lap immediately.
"Where's Shoto? Shouldn't he be here, if 1Z eats lunch with 1A?" He asked, getting to his feet. In unison, they took a single step away from the booth, acquiring a sort of phantom-privacy. He still felt the weight of the cafeteria, of course—even more, really, now that they were standing, but he didn't care right now. She shook her head, speaking soft enough for only them to hear.
"Nuh-uh. You got it wrong. We got our own little wreckroom across campus. I just snuck out to come check on you. I got worried."
"You what? I'm fine! Go, go back to class!" He said, giving her shoulder a light shove. Before he could get her moving, however, a soft palm landed on his, and he found himself trapped. Her gaze, like before she'd sat on him, was serious.
"Not until I know if you're alright. What went on with Nighteye and you-know-who?"
He looked away for a split second, checking the clock and exits and everything except—she caught him, and grabbed him by the chin.
"Are. You. Okay?"
He sighed.
"I'm getting a psych evaluation. A string of them. Once a week until the Sports Festival. And, if I win, I'll be joining you."
Her grip on his hand dropped, but the one on his chin tightened. She wiggled his jaw a bit, as if shaking his mouth would make the truth spill out.
"A psych evaluation? For?"
He shook his head free of her grip and looked aside. He wiggled his fingers in the air non-committable, as if gesturing to ghosts. Though his eyes settled on the tips of her shoes, he could feel her gaze burning into his face.
"I don't know. Brain stuff. He doesn't trust I hold up mentally."
The statement seemed to surprise her, because she let go of his chin.
"...Do you trust yourself? To hold up mentally? I-I know the bridge took a toll on you, but that was years ago. I-I mean, it's alright if that still—"
"No, no. You know that damaged you more than anyone. It's—It's…"
His throat constricted a bit—though not by his physiological stress, but by something much more personable. He choked through it.
"...I'm just tired. Other than that, I'm doing well. I've finally got my guarantee that Nedzu won't fudge the Sports Festival results, and I'm on the way. You just have to wait a little longer."
Setsuna's eyes softened—but not completely. There was a seriousness to compliment their warmth; one born on obvious concern. He wanted to embrace it, but the setting was not appropriate… nor was he worth the stress. Izuku wanted to throw up, but he held his stomach steady. He had something he wanted to get done sooner rather than later, and holding Setsuna hostage with his guilt was helping no one.
"If you don't call tonight like you promised, I'm breaking into your house from the fire-escape." She said at last, before stepping away and letting him free. He nodded at her, acknowledging the threat as genuine—it wasn't something she'd done before, but he didn't doubt her—and turned back to the table.
"Hey, uhm, what room is Snipe's?" He asked, glancing at Toru.
"C154. Why?" She replied, a little fast.
Izuku retrieved his tray, glancing at his phone again to make sure he had time.
"I'm gonna stop by there before Intro to Heroics. I just remembered something about his costume I wanted to ask about. Thanks for the company, guys." Izuku said, before nodding at the table and turning to leave. He slipped past Setsuna and made his way to the garbage.
"Oh, and Set!" He called, when she was still hovering around the booth. "Get to freaking class! Don't get expelled before I catch up to 1Z!"
[x]
Toru blinked, staring at the space that Midoriya had just occupied—scratch that. The one he and his girlfriend occupied. If Toru had visible skin, she liked to think it would be about… maroon, right about now. Under the booth's table, she squeezed the papers she'd slaved over last night, designing Midoriya a new suit. Of course, the assignment was more skeletal than that… but she had so many ideas she couldn't use for herself. So, when prompted, she had nothing less than a library of concepts to offer. Capes, visors, color schemes… she loved playing with all the ideas, and she'd been excited to share them with him…
Now she felt a little silly. Not for the first time, she was thankful for her curse. No one could see her soured, embarrassed expression—though on some level, she wished they could. At least then she could share the misfortune with Uraraka, who looked as shocked as she felt.
The only girl at the table not particularly surprised seemed Ashido—but even then, she looked a little spaced out, like she hadn't expected the green-haired girl's explosive confidence.
"Well…" Hitoshi said, dry, as Setsuna waved them goodbye and slipped out of 1A's cafeteria. "That was something."
Tokoyami choked back a laugh. Kirishima seemed introspective—but not quiet.
"Did you guys hear that? That thing at the end?"
Ashido glanced at him, and Toru could empathize with her expression.
"Yeah… Did he say he was going to join 1Z?"
"Did he?" Hitoshi asked, skeptical, before shrugging. "Checks out. The guy ain't normal. He's probably gunning for top spot in the Sports Festival. I heard that if you perform crazy good, then you can get moved up. Vice versa if you're crap."
"Damn…" Kirishima said, muttering under his breath, before speaking up. "If he's thinking that far ahead, then I'd wager we should too. He's smart. Two months is a long time. I could hit some serious bags until then. I wouldn't wanna make it easy for the guy, y'know?"
Uraraka huffed. Toru, with her curse, was able to blatantly scrutinize her expression… and could not blame the sour pinch of her eyebrows.
"Why not? Seems to me the dude just wants to have class with his girlfriend. Why not let him?"
"Woah, woah, slow your roll, Ocha." Ashido said, planting her elbows on the table. "I don't think they're like that for real. They never said anything. Plus, the Sports Festival isn't just a competition, y'know?"
"Mm." Hitoshi said, hopping in at the tail end of her statement. "It's a U.A. student's big break. We can't just roll over 'cause they're cute together. Still, I'm with Ashido. I'd wager they're not together."
"A wager?" Kirishima asked, a shift in his voice. "On if they're dating?"
"Mhm."
"How much?"
Hitoshi frowned. He glanced down, looking at his tray. Toru bit her lip. With an unnoticed finger, she nudged forward her diet soda. Gambling with money was wrong… but some soda would be harmless.
He caught on. He slid his drink forward, accompanied by a peace sign.
"Two sodas."
Kirishima seemed conflicted for a moment, muttering something about carbs, but then noticed it was diet soda.
He slid forward his own soda. He made a W with his fingers.
"Three. For them dating."
Around the booth, sodas joined on either side.
Hitoshi, Ashido, and Mezou doubted the relationship.
A reluctant Uraraka matched Kirishima's sodas, as did a confident Tokoyami. They believed.
Toru hesitated—because on one hand, in her mind, there was little doubt. Their display was by no means subtle.
On the other hand, there was a little hope—and she imagined, for a moment, a world where that hope was answered and she got to collect a quarter of everyone's soda. A world where she was seen.
She slid her drink with Hitoshi.
Then the speakers crackled to life, and the lights turned red.
"Class 3 emergency! Class 3 emergency! Please leave the building in an orderly fashion!"
[x]
AN: Off rip, thank you to Carter2424 for betaing this chapter. Big help guy. Thanks.
I got a little silly, and stalked the mha fanfic subreddit. Was very surreal to see people talking about it-though less so a discussion and moreso as a recommendation. That was still cool.
I'm currently in the midst of cranking out chapter 49, and while it's gonna be a really, really difficult chapter, it's quite fun to write. It's like a rebellious teenager-I wrote a whole outline, and the second I put pen to paper, it went off the rails. This arc is gonna be fun, though.
It's makes me very nervous, however-because this upcoming arc is going to be a good few chapters, which'll then lead into another arc, which'll lead into a third-and thats it. There's still a mountain of story to climb after that, but my mental image of the story is only strong up until about 70. Maybe 75?
Getting there and being proud of myself will be a task in it of itself-and then going past it will require even more. It's so exciting. I think the fourth arc will be one of the last canon convergent ones for a while.
I'm gonna have to get some help, maybe.
Review!~ I saw so many nice comments recently, I have to thank everyone. Tootles.