The answer to one of his big questions quite literally stumbled into him face-first, sending him sprawling onto the ground.

Bakugou only just stopped himself from blasting this poor guy on reflex, which spoke volumes of his exhaustion, because he could have sworn he had more self control than that. And so he sat there, hand aimed directly at this man's face. A face that was terrified and also recovering from what had no doubt been a harsh landing on his ass.

"You…" he growled as it dawned on him why this man looked so familiar.

The man flinched back but didn't make a sound, instead grabbing Bakugou by the forearm and quietly pulling him to his feet. His eyes were blown wide and he was shaking, but every action to took was methodically unnoticeable unless one was looking directly at him.

"What the hell-"

"Shh!" the man hissed, cutting him off.

Bakugou only scowled. The thought of threatening this man to explain what the fuck was going on came as quickly as it left. Clearly there was a reason this guy was so afraid. There was a chance that staying silent had to do with his quirk—perhaps an activation condition?-but the odds that this man was hiding from something or someone was more likely, so he shut himself the fuck up.

The man was probably in his late thirties, early forties, but given the situation and all the stress, it was possible he was younger than that. His eyes were darting around and he kept shifting one way then the next, as though he was trying to decide which way to go.

So Bakugou stepped up and delicately grabbed the man's wrist, pulling him back the way he came before they had collided.

The two of them speed-walked for nearly ten minutes as best they could without disturbing the rubble on the street. Bakugou only stopped when the man pulled away from his grip. He whirled around and stared at the guy for what was no doubt and uncomfortably long time. The guy shifted in place again but didn't seem to trying to escape, so the hero student just stood in place and waited.

Finally, the man seemed to get himself together enough to speak, "We've got to get out of here."

Bakugou raised an eyebrow, mustering as much judgment into his expression as he could manage. The man took the hint and continued.

"There's… those creatures… Nomu? I don't know. We've just-we gotta get out of here!"

"There are nomu here?" he repeated, eyes widening marginally. He hadn't noticed.

The man let out a shaky breath, "I got as far away from them as possible and then I st-I ran into you. You've gotta help me, please! I didn't mean to do it I swear! I didn't think-"

"You didn't mean to do what?!" Bakugou narrowed his eyes, just barely holding back a snarl, "Tell me. Come on, spit it out or I'll just leave you here."

The man flinched and shrunk down into himself but didn't back away.

"Tick tock, you're wasting time."

"A-alright! Fine!" the man cried, "I'll tell you everything if you promise to get me out of here!"

He frowned wondering just what the man could tell him. Was it worth…

"Alright, I'll escort you to UA and you can explain everything there," Bakugou conceded.

If there was a chance this man could tell him what happened to Izuku… well he would take it. He didn't want to return (empty-handed). Plus Izuku would kill him—well, more like be incredibly disappointed in him, which would honestly feel like a stab to the heart—if he didn't help this guy.

It would be a long walk back to UA, especially considering how long he had been wandering for. For the second time, he regretted leaving his phone behind. He was a bit too embarrassed to admit that he was horribly lost. The thought of explaining his situation to the man who was dutifully trailing behind him, looking as though he would startle at the slightest noise, made Bakugou want to vomit. So he just soldiered on, doing his best to trace his steps backwards until he found a familiar land mark.

Of course, that only lasted about ten minutes.

"...are we lost?" the man asked meekly.

Bakuogu froze in place, unable to hide the flinch at being caught red-handed. He tried to formulate a response that would get the guy off his ass, but nothing came to mind. The delay clearly had been enough for him to put two and two together and get the painfully obvious answer of four.

He sighed, "We are, aren't we."

"Do you want me to leave you behind?!" he retorted, "So what if we're temporarily lost? We'll be back before you know it. Besides, you won't get killed when you're with me, I'll be the best damn escort you've ever had!"

The man blinked at him as Bakugou stared at him with a sneer. It was clear that he wanted to say something, but

"Well? You clearly want to say something, so spit it out!"

"You really should watch your words…" the man bit out a laugh, poorly disguising it as a cough.

Huh?

Bakugou thought back over what he'd just said. He always spoke his mind and used direct language. No one could misinterpret him that way, so what…?

Oh.

"You fucker!" he shouted, praying that the heat he felt rising in his cheeks wasn't visible, "Not that kind of escort! Perverted old man!"

The man squeaked, "Right! Sorry! Please don't leave me behind!"

It took everything he had to not scowl at the bastard, "Why the fuck would I do that? I'm a hero, dammit."

Bakugou half expected the fucker to have some half-cocked comeback to that. Given the negative sentiments towards heroes now-a-days, he wouldn't have been surprised if the guy was just like the rest of the extras. But instead of anger or even anxiety, the teen glanced back only to be met with a pensive frown.

This time he couldn't hold back the scowl. Whatever that look meant, he didn't like it one bit.

"You're not a hero," he rubbed his arm, staring at the ground rather than at Bakugou directly, "You're just a kid. Only in training. You shouldn't be out here."

He scoffed. The teen definitely wasn't going to dignify that with a response.

"Why are the pro heroes letting you out here?"

Bakugou glared at the guy. Why couldn't he get the hint and just shut the fuck up?

"..they aren't, are you?" the guy surmised.

"It doesn't matter your age or even who you are," he turned back to stare at the man, uncertain of what emotions were drawing this response out of him (for once, it wasn't anger), "If I sit back just because some people think I'm not old enough, then that means I'm complacent enough to just let the bad things happen. I will fight back tooth and nail. If I die, I die. So be it."

"But you're still a child-"

"A child that has seen more fights than you ever will. I haven't been a child since our class was attacked at the USJ. You don't know me, so shut it."

And that was that. The man seemed keen to leave him alone after that exchange. Bakugou was fine with that; he'd had enough of that fucker's yapping. Talking about situations he couldn't even begin to understand. Japan may have only collapsed a few weeks ago, but for them, this hell started a year ago. But he didn't need stranger's pity. Fuck that.

It pissed him off to no end that there were some people who cared, but clearly none of had spoken up when they gathered to protest what should have been Izuku's return. He knew civilians weren't a monolith or a hive mind, so someone had to have disagreed with the sentiment, yet they went along with the crowd anyway. And these were the same fuckers that would hide away from the danger like cowards, demanding to be protected all while degrading them for doing exactly just that.

While Bakugou was angry with the heroes himself, at least it wasn't because they did the damn jobs that were demanded of them. He just needed to be in the loop. But instead, they were just like this bastard, claiming that he was just a child that needed to be protected.

Yeah, some fucking protection he got during the battle against Shigaraki. Endeavor had been far too busy having a breakdown to keep them safe. They couldn't protect the students—hell, they brought students into battle—so they shouldn't continue to pretend that they could.

They could save that bullshit line for the civilians.

Bakugou stewed in these thoughts, letting his emotions run through him and out, so that he hopefully wouldn't yell when they finally got back to UA. As much as he hated it, he'd have to be on his best behavior to get what he wanted out of this mess. But maybe…

He glanced over his shoulder at the guy.

Maybe he could ensure his involvement. All he had to do was get this guy on board with it. But that was a problem for when they actually figured out where the fuck they currently were.

And if it took him a good thirty minutes to finally catch sight of a landmark, then that was nobody's business but his own.

After cleaning up the dishes from the basic breakfast spread he'd made for the kid, Sanji reluctantly returned outside to re-initiate his… training.

An involuntary shudder ran down his spine the moment his foot crossed the door's threshold. Not even a second later, he heard three pitchy battle cries that signaled the chase was on. He had been determined to defeat everyone as soon as possible and obtain all the recipes, but with the way things had been going, that task felt utterly impossible. He had yet to reach even a stalemate with one of them, much less defeat them.

...not that he'd tried even once in the last three days.

In his defense, it was difficult to muster the courage to try again when every loss resulted in being knocked unconscious and waking up in that horrid, frilly dress. It was in those moments that he wished he could be back on the Thousand Sunny. The humiliation was too much to bear, though he needed only to remind himself that he could endure this and more if it meant keeping the crew safe.

But would it really have been so bad if he'd gone somewhere else instead?

Sanji mourned the possibility of ending up on an island surrounded by beauties. If only he'd been so lucky.

But instead, he was here in the place he thought could only exist in his nightmares. So he took off running. Despite the pride he held in his own speed, it only took a few minutes for them to gain on him. Before he knew it, he had to block and tank hits without time to so much as catch his breath. Even so, he consoled himself with the fact that he seemed to last just a bit longer than the last time.

Their spar (though it felt more like a serious fight than anything civil) wore on for nearly an hour before the beating he took grew to be too much to handle. As his vision faded to black, he resigned himself to his fate and pointedly ignored the small tear that attempted to escape the corner of his eye.

When Sanji blinked awake—a groan leaving his lips—he knew something was off. His head snapped to the side at the sound of a small sniff. The last thing he wanted was for someone to be in the room to witness the results of his latest failure. That would be a blow to his pride too devastating for him to recover.

The kid sat in a chair positioned next to the wall opposite the bed. It faced towards the door, as did the foot-board of the bed. The boy must have been clued in to Sanji's state of consciousness via his dramatic groan, given the way he stared at the man with a… glimmer of concern? He'd half-expected disgust or amusement, but he wasn't one to complain. Even his oblivious idiot of a captain would have laughed at the sight of him in a dress.

Yet as Sanji pushed himself into an upright position, he was not met with the resistance he'd become well acquainted with since his first defeat. In fact, he wasn't in any outfit but the pair of sleep clothes he'd been gifted upon his arrival.

"Wha-?"

"I'm glad you're awake," the kid murmured.

He couldn't help but stare at the kid blankly as his mind sluggishly tried to keep up with the situation. The man briefly wondered if he had a concussion, though he quickly dismissed the idea, since the fuzzy feeling in his head was more like exhaustion than the dizzy swimming of a head wound.

Based on the lighting in the room, it hadn't been too long since he had been utterly demolished in that fight, so tired it was.

"What are you doing here…?" he wondered aloud, blinking a bit when he heard the words leave his lips instead of remaining in his thoughts.

The kid simply shrugged.

"Do you… know where my clothes are?"

The boy looked away and pointed at the foot of his bed where, indeed, his clothes laid, folded but still dirty.

"You probably don't want to change back into them until they're clean," Deku muttered, fidgeting with his fingers.

He agreed wholeheartedly, though a glance at the kid's own dirty articles of clothing made him pause for a moment. Because he always woke up in these horrid dresses, someone else stole away his usual outfit and hid it. He'd resigned himself to hunting for them throughout the building, but at least when he eventually found them, they were clean.

He supposed he had some work to do then. Get this kid a change of clothes and wash his current ones. It was odd that the kid hadn't asked for someone to do so yet. At first, he'd assumed the kid was just tired, but now he wondered if the kid was just shy or didn't want to impose.

The boy's fidgeting certainly supported that conclusion.

"Well, are you hungry? It's been a bit since you last ate," Sanji offered, wondering absentmindedly what the kid had been up to while he'd been getting running around getting his ass handed to him.

"No, I'm alright," he declined, standing, "If you'll please excuse me."

Without another word, or even waiting for a response, the kid shuffled out of the room without looking back. The door didn't slam, so the man didn't think he was mad, but something was definitely wrong.

Sanji frowned when he realized the kid had deliberately avoided looking him in the eyes for their entire conversation. It made his swift exit all the more concerning. What kind of person made the effort to stay by someone's bedside and then walk away the minute before truly talking to the injured party.

Someone who had something to hide, his mind unhelpfully supplied.

Yet the man was unable to find any reason to suspect the kid. Maybe Sanji was still too naive and weak, just as his family had said, but he refused to submit to those cruel words until proven otherwise. All the more so because—while his first thought had been that of suspicion—his second was that of a friend; the last time he'd seen such an expression, the Strawhats had been forced to convince Robin that she was worth fighting the whole world.

He was hesitant to jump to any conclusions, but he promised himself that he would get to the bottom of this before the kid truly had the chance to leave. At least Deku was stuck here for another day. The challenge was in how to make his approach subtle enough to not scare the kid off. Sanji would have to think on it while he prepared an even more lavish dinner for the evening.

After all, growing kids needed plenty of food.

Midoriya was more than a bit unnerved. The emptiness of the building was suffocating as he tread carefully through the halls. Ever since waking up in this world, the last time he'd felt such a need to be circumspect and cautious had been back home. Even when captured in the Marine Base, the dank atmosphere had at least matched his dread. Here, his determination juxtaposed with the barren walkways, void of life.

No.. it wasn't that. If he was honest with himself, it was how he was going behind the backs of kind people to run off on his own. The emptiness was a painful reminder of what would no doubt be his life in the foreseeable future.

Despite his weak heart, Midoriya trudged on, simultaneously anxious and relived that he had yet to stumble across anybody else. It was the middle of the day, so it was dissimilar enough to his nightly villain hunts for him to slip back into the mindset of wandering enemy territory.

They weren't enemies yet, he reminded himself.

Yet, his mind echoed.

Luckily it only took a good forty minutes of exploring, getting lost, and potentially walking in circles without realizing it before he found his first bounty. A storage closet that seemed obvious once he realized it was there, but blended in well to the never-ending walls. The door handle was a latch that didn't disrupt the pattern. It was only because he'd passed the same spot multiple times and the lighting from the windows had slightly changed angles that he'd noticed the change in shadows.

And sure enough, he scored big time. Inside was a collection of medical supplies as well as toilet paper and washcloths. There was plenty of gauze and medical-grade tape that he knew what little he needed wouldn't be missed. Even if it was, he would be long gone by the time they likely noticed.

So he gathered a small arm-full and gently shut the door, burned the location in to his brain, and spun around on his heel to return to his room. When he returned, he slipped the amount into his bag and winced. It wasn't near enough, but it wouldn't do to be caught wandering around with his bag. Although being caught with an armful of medical supplies wasn't a great alternative. So he reluctantly grabbed his bag and started the short trek back to raid the storage closet. At least now that he knew where to go, he could be quick: in and out.

It seemed that everyone else who would normally live here (though he wasn't sure if this was a private estate for Ivankov, or if it was more like a group home situation) were out doing something else. He was more than a bit curious as to what they were up to. However, given that they were more than a bit suspicious, he'd rather have plausible deniability and not know what trouble (or danger) they were up to.

By the time he dropped off his backpack back in his room and slid it under the bed, merely an hour had passed.

Midoriya knew he should go find everything else he needed, but the thought of aimlessly wandering the deserted halls again filled him with dread. Instead, he found himself walking back towards the entrance and letting his feet take him outside to wherever.

He kept a look out for landmarks so he wouldn't get lost. Yet while his mind was occupied, he felt more relaxed than he had in… a while. Even though he was still painfully aware of the weight of the world on his shoulders, he finally felt as though he could take a moment to just breathe. It was the last thing he needed to do at the moment, but he rationalized the poor decision as a much needed break. He would be no good running himself ragged; hadn't he already made the commitment to avoid that?

While his feet took him in a straight line, his mind seemed to be going in circles. It was an endless cycle in which he only just now accepted he had been trapped for ages. Understanding his own limits, pushing past them, collapsing, falling behind, recovering, swearing to never go so far again, and then having to press beyond once more. He was at the beginning once more.

Midoriya didn't want to go too far again, but he found himself with no other choice. The uncertainty of Shigaraki or All for One's current location and method of travel was accelerating this never-ending downward spiral.

He felt like he was going mad. There were no good options. There was no easy path out.

He wondered if this was what Lady Nagant had been pushed to when she gave up on heroics. When she turned traitor and shot the HPSC President.

Although he had truly believed that she could do good again, that she had the heart of a hero that had been stretched far too thin, it was only now that he thought he could truly empathize with her situation. Midoriya had yet to kill anybody, but the thought of being unable to save Shigaraki loomed over him like a piano ready to drop on his head the moment things began going his way.

He'd always been optimistic, however such thoughts had been slowly slipping through his fingers. He desperately fumbled to keep the water cupped in his palms, but it dripped through the gaps in his skin so easily.

The sound of collision after collision—that which came from skin on skin contact—dragged him from his reverie and brought his mind back into focus. A glance behind him confirmed that he hadn't gotten lost while his mind turned itself inside and out over and over, but that did nothing to soothe his worry.

With a handful of strides, he realized that he instinctively brought himself to the scene of a fight. Just like the day he'd met All Might, it seemed he truly couldn't keep himself from seeking out trouble.

With a sigh, he examined the clearing before him. It seemed he'd accidentally stumbled across Sanji in the midst of an intense battle with some of the… native people of this island, he assumed. It was three on one at first, though as the scuffle continued, they began to ease off of him—seemingly without the man's notice. Before long, the blonde seemed to reach his limit and tumbled to the ground, unconscious. For the duration of the fight, Midoriya was all but frozen in place.

Reflexively, Midoriya stepped out from where he'd been spectating to check on the man, stopping halfway once he'd realized his mistake, yet no less out in the open for all to see. The three seemed to take notice of him, but apparently brushed his presence off. Given the passive approach toward Sanji's prone form, there was no reason to step in. Or at least, there hadn't been until one of them pulled an uncomfortable looking dress from who knew where and their lips all quirked up into a mischievous grin.

The boy had weathered a handful of pranks during his time in the dorms at UA, but that seemed far too cruel to do to someone they had just beat into the dirt. Midoriya couldn't help but feel guilty at the thought that this man had cooked him an extravagant breakfast and he was standing here as his dignity was callously mocked.

For most people, perhaps this could be a funny prank. But he had the sense from the way that Sanji dressed and held himself that such a thing would be cruel.

"Hey," Midoriya called out, only to freeze in place when three pairs of eyes turned on him.

He zeroed in on the dress still in sight and swallowed thickly before pushing onward.

"P-please don't do that?"

He mentally face palmed. Out of everything he could have said, that certainly wasn't the smartest. It wasn't even in the top ten best responses. Nonetheless, the three of them seemed to consider his request.

It was a relief when they nodded and walked away instead, though the loud giggling was the furthest thing from reassuring. He decided to ignore that in favor of examining the man's potential wounds. His lips curled downward at the fact that they were just going to leave the poor man there in this state, lying on the ground with bruises deep enough to warrant timely treatment. Midoriya wanted to help the blonde man, but he hesitated despite himself.

He reasoned that the man was unconscious and wouldn't remember being brought to a room and treated by him, so long as he was quick about it. So with steeled nerves and an uncomfortable feeling settling in his gut, he gingerly rolled the man into his arms and trekked back to the mansion.

He hadn't been sure which room was the man's, much less where the infirmary was, assuming there in fact was one. As such, he simply swung open the door to the room closest to his own and settled the man on top of the plush mattress. It was a good thing that he'd spent the rest of the morning snooping around the large property in search of supplies, given that he knew where the bandages and could steal from his temporary stash and easily replenish them later.

He'd planned to take only a bit at a time every couple of hours or so so as to not draw suspicion, but he easily tossed that plan out the metaphorical window now that he had someone in need right in front of him.

Besides, he could always sneak around in the middle of the night, even if it raised the stakes if he were to get caught.

That would be something to deal with later, if such a thing came to pass. At the moment, he simply focused on taking care of Sanji. And if—in between his trip to the storage closet with bandages and his return to the room—a pair of night clothes appeared neat and folded on the bedside table, that wasn't his problem. That just meant that he had gained someone's goodwill or convinced them that he was a good little kid.

A good kid that would listen to their instructions to wait until their say-so to leave.

It felt utterly wretched to play on their kind sensibilities like that, but he soothed himself with the fact that it was in everyone's best interest. (Such conciliates did nothing to unravel the growing knot in his chest with every cruel act and heartless decision he forced himself to make for the greater good.)

He set himself to work, treating the man's scrapes and bruises as best he could and wiping the dirt from his skin. Only then did he gingerly re-dress the man in the provided linens. And if his hands lingered a bit on the soft, clean fabric for just a moment too long, that was nobody's business but his own.

Despite knowing he'd done all he could do for the man, Midoriya couldn't bring himself to leave the man's side. He figured that it had only been training, but he was more than a bit roughed up. From what he remembered after speaking with Rayleigh, Haki training was brutal and could be different for everybody. If Sanji was half as stubborn as he appeared, it made sense that his training would be rougher than Midoriya's own.

Then again, that was assuming the man didn't have Haki already. Midoriya had no way to tell, given his own lack of Haki (and his likely inability to unlock it in the first place). But given the fierce opponents he'd faced the minute he'd arrived in this world, he had no place to judge the methods of training. UA had also been known for harsh methods and he'd done much of his own learning in the thick of things.

But Aizawa-sensei had never made him feel so unsafe.

He would just stay with the man until he woke up and then leave him be to lick his own wounds in private. After all the years of accidentally wounding Kacchan's pride, he was wary to repeat his mistake. Even if it had been far from intentional, that only meant he had to be more careful.

Luckily for his plans, Sanji groaned awake only an hour later. It was impressive that the man was able to recover so quickly, but he pushed the thought aside. The boy hoped that he would take a while to fully wake up so he could slip out of the room without his presence being known. Unfortunately, his hopes were dashed as the man's eyes snapped open and he sat himself upright.

He looked utterly confused, so Midoriya greeted him, though he wasn't sure how well the words came out, since he couldn't feel his lips. The boy was frozen in place like a deer in headlights, unable to utter anything except pleasantries and clipped replies.

They exchanged words for a few minutes, though the entire time, Midoriya was counting down the seconds until it was socially acceptable for him to leave without being rude. Maybe being offensive in that manner would be a good method to drive them away, but he couldn't bring himself to. As much as he tried to channel Kacchan's inner asshole, it was utterly antithetical to his being. So he averted his eyes and slinked out of the room with a halfhearted excuse.

The boy let out a sigh of relief the minute he was away from the man's prying eyes. Now that he was alone once more and had made certain that Sanji was okay, he was free to resume his plan.

He had medical supplies to pillage once more after using his previous plunder on the man, however he decided it was in his best interest to scope out the other things he needed first. It would be easy to return to that storage closet later. Midoriya resigned himself to wandering the eerily empty halls once more.

Maybe if he was lucky, he could locate the laundry room. He highly doubted they had washing machines like he was familiar with, given the odd substitutions he'd witnessed so far for basic utilities such as cameras. As far as he could tell, electricity was all but non-existent and machines were few and far between. So while he was hopeful, he certainly wasn't holding his breath.

The boy managed to wander and explore for the rest of the day without interruptions. He had a feeling that if any of the adults had truly wanted to find him, they could. Sabo and Iva—though he wasn't entirely certain about Sanji—seemed formidable enough that he would wager that they had Observation Haki. While he wasn't confident in his knowledge of the limits of the technique, he wasn't going to assume they couldn't locate individual people with it.

So long as he gave them no reason to be suspicious, he figured it would be fine and he was right.

For some reason, as he snuck off to bed after successfully gathering at least half of the supplies he'd hoped for and locating the rest, his success did nothing to reassure him. The weight that had settled in his gut only grew heavier as he flopped into bed, prepared for a long day ahead of him tomorrow.