Praise the mutilated world
and the grey feather a thrush lost,
and the gentle light that strays and vanishes
and returns.

Excerpt from 'Try to praise the mutilated world', by Adam Zagajewski

Izuku was 11 at the time. He was smaller than he is now, shoulders softer, face rounder. The apartment was warmer, with an ambience that is slowly growing distant in memory.

Alice was in the kitchen, where mom was cooking. He could smell mackerel and rice, and the watercolour strokes of Alice's presence filled the room. A new postcard from dad had just arrived, sitting quiet on the dining table where Aegir perched. He had been watching a documentary on international heroics history before it moved onto tonight's news programme. Thyme was resting behind him, her gentle not-scent wafting.

He could hear glacial murmurs, smell the not-scent of thymes. There were whale songs in the air, murmuring. There was also something faint and coppery, alongside them the clicking clockwork sound. He felt warm.

The details of the report he doesn't recall anymore- the exact wording has faded with time. Other details however, stuck with him. Like the even voice of the news reporter, like the colour of his shirt, or the way the light from the screen reflected off a window, as well as the shaking voice of the mother in the protest that they were reporting about- talking about her missing child.

Familiar figures stood in the crowd that the screen depicted. Blues and blacks under the large brim of a hat. A black snake around broad shoulders, squinted eyes behind rounded spectacles. More strokes of painted concepts brush across the scene, with them their not-sound. Singing glaciers, or flipping pages.

He heard a sigh, and turned. Then there Alice was, by his side.

Omnipresence is weird.

'She's still there, right now.'Alice murmured. Izuku stared up towards her.'Waiting for answers. And they are trying.'She tilts her head, gesturing with her chin for him to look towards the screen again. Someone stood in front of the reporters, bags under his eyes as they grilled him with questions. Izuku catches sight of something copper-like, brown, a figure he often sees as he works on his analysis notes.

"But they can't find them." Izuku murmured, staring into the screen. The glare from its glow made his eyes water. Gently, a hand laid over his eyes, averting them.

'Happy endings are precious because they are scarce to come by,'Alice's thumb brushed across his cheek,'perhaps they will be one of them, perhaps they won't. Time will tell.'

Something clicked then, Izuku's mouth went dry as he opened it.

"But you know where the kids are," he stated. The lace scratched his skin, as Alice moved her hand. She slid it to the side, and he looked up through the gaps of her fingers, framing her figure. Something about her expression was quiet, like a question.

'We know many things,'she said, her eyes met his, heavy with meaning somehow, he felt like this was more important than he thought,'would you like to ask?'

Azaleas brushed across the canvas with watercolour hues, and Izuku wondered why it should be a choice at all.

"Of course."

They first became aware of Vaquita 3 years ago.

An anonymous letter that had appeared on Sansa's desk. The contents was written in a neat print, detailing the inner workings of a quirk-trafficking ring in Hosu their members, finances, locations, all of them with evidence listed and for those without, detailed instructions and directions to obtain said evidence.

They had everything. They knewexactlywhat they were missing, and what they had. They knew what the other side knew- and what they don't. It unnerved them exactly how much this person knew, yet they knew nothing of them. Naomasa still remembers the look on Sansa's face when he read it, setting the paper down.

He understood the look, the information was extensive- extremely. They knew what was released to the public and what wasn't. They knew what they did and what they didn't. They knew what the kidnappers did and what they didn't. The tone of the letter was confident- stating information as facts and not guesswork. What corridor led to where they keep the children? Who financed the kidnappings? Which part of the building was structurally sound and where wasn't? What quirks did the offenders have, and what did they look like?Everything.

And everything held- matching the letter to the information they had and the evidence already there painted far too clear a picture for it to be anything but facts. One could argue that it was the results of elaborate engineering from the kidnappers- Eraserhead has stated as much. They attempted to search for the sender, but forensics came back with nothing- no fingerprints, no hair. The paper was a simple sheet of A4 paper, and the handwriting didn't match with any of the known informants or villains in their database. The security footage they pull up in the end- baffled them.

The person delivering the letter was of a short stature, dressed in loose fitting clothes and a mask over their mouth. They were careful with the camera's angle, and it never captured their face. But the thing that no one expects, is how they got in.

They had walkedstraight through the front door, slipping in right behind an officer, even walking right past Sansa himself to set down the letter on the table. And not a single person bat an eye towards them. They then turned on their heels, andleft right the way they came.

Tracing their steps through the camera yielded nothing. They slipped into the crowd less than a street away, then vanished into a department store.

"A quirk," Eraserhead stated, "this is the effects of a quirk."

"Seems like it," Naomasa agreed, "it's hard to keep track of his movements." He had lost track of them more than five times within the same footage now, this was obviously unnatural it felt almost like his brain was trying to turn is attention to anything but the figure. A memory or focus-related quirk, likely.

They searched for candidates with similar descriptions in quirk registers, but found nothing- they had other priorities at hand, however, and had to leave the matter in favour of rounding up the quirk-trafficking ring. They thought it might've been an isolated incident, since the letter had been anonymous. It's not every day they get anonymous tips, much less one with this degree of information, but it won't be unheard of.

Then the second letter arrived.

Izuku arrives home, dragging heavy bones and exhaustion felt like lead filled weights on his feet. Thyme lingers by his side, hovering close, her not-scent covers him like a familiar, warm blanket. The door unlocks with a creak- he pushes it inwards, breathing in.

'Well you've got guts.'

The drawl and sarcasm is familiar, and there lounging on the back of the couch he finds Aegir, cross-legged and peering at him through his monocle. He's scowling, but when is he not? He has a face that makes him seem deceptively short, but then you look down and realise that his feet are touching the ground, and he's sitting on the back of a couch.

He is dressed in teals, reminiscent of sea glass or the tropical waters of the Caribbean, and wears suspenders on shorts with leggings for no damn reason other than the fact that he thinks it looks good. He sighs, and it is accompanied by the not scent of ink. The cetacean slips off the furniture, his shoes making a click as they land. It isn't truly a sound, so Izuku knows Aegir just made that happen on purpose for dramatics. He side eyes him for it, but Aegir just scoffs. He strides over to his side, reaches up, then knocks him on the head with his knuckles.

"Ouch."

Thyme sighs,'Aegir,'she chides, as though lecturing a child. Aegir rolls his eyes.

'Go shower and deal with the burns,'crossing his arms, he instructs,'you have 25 minutes before Naomasa-kun comes knocking. Alice is in the kitchen.'

"What-"

Thyme sighs again, but doesn't say anything else. She ushers him into the bathroom as he protests, right up until he shuts the door behind him, the plastic bag with the bandages and burn cream still in his hand.

'Make it quick!'Aegir's voice drifts in through the door. Izuku presses his forehead against the mirror, groaning.'And do the dishes afterwards!'

Him and the dishes. Izuku will never understand.

He emerges from the bath 10 minutes later, still exhausted but at least clean. Alice is in the living room than, joining him to help with the burn cream. She couldn't apply any, since she can't interact with it, but her cooling presence alone is helpful. There are thankfully no blisters anywhere he'd have to cover with clothes, as for where there are (inner side of his forearm, and thankfully, rather small ones) he wraps up with bandages.

'You scared Aegir,'Alice has her hand over one of the reddened patches on his shoulder, her lace glove is gone, and her fingers emit an icy cold only he can feel,'that was dangerous.'

"I know that," he cuts himself off with a hiss, as the gauze tightens a bit too much around his arm, "I'm sorry."

'Oh, love, please, don't apologise,'Alice sighs, her tone is saddened as she shifts to face him properly,'you are not sorry, and don't be. Never be sorry for doing the right thing. It was just dangerous. And please, be careful. Ruslan may have taught you self defence, but fire is hardly something you can defend yourself from with martial arts.'her hand leaves his shoulder to run through his hair. Her nails snag his curls. She smiles, warm.'That was a lovely throw, by the way. I liked that.'

"Thanks," Izuku murmurs, she reaches up to ruffle his hair. He ducks out of the way, but a smile tugs on his mouth, one that fades as he recalls a different conversation, back at the pharmacy, "have you heard from Marena?" He asks, Alice stills. "About the informant."

'Ah,'she purses her lips,'yes, a few hours ago. You were in class then. I wanted to tell you myself, but since Sezia saw you first I thought she'd be able to tell you more.'She glances his way,'did she?'

"...I just know that he's dead. She didn't say much."

'Oh, dear,'Alice sighs, she pauses for a moment, probably waiting for Marena to answer her somewhere else,'he drowned.'She starts then.'Remember the shootout I told you about? He was injured, and the person that treated him didn't exactly clean their needles.'Izuku grimaces, he already knows what's coming next. 'The wound was infected, and he went into shock. Passed out in his bathtub.'

"Where is he?"

'One of the Shie Hassaikai's old safe houses.'She tilts her head, there's a beat before she continues her answer- she was probably just told of it.'Naniwa ward, 5 chome. Do you want to have that in the next letter?'

"I'll tell Tsukauchi-san about it, but, yeah." He shakes his head. Vaquita is a name with a reputation- an esoteric one, but among those people are underground heroes, certain villains or criminals, and legal authorities. And for Izuku, messing with any of them should be rather inadvisable. So he's quite grateful that Tsukauchi-san decided to keep his identity and the fact that they know eachother between them. He glances up towards the cetacean, "anything any of you want to put in there?"

'Ah, well,'Alice taps her chin in thought, then snaps her fingers,'first lesson of today. Since Taihaku Yoshihide died, what do you think is going to happen?'

Izuku blinks, "what direction should I analyse in?"

'Prioritise,'she smiles, eyes squinting,'so far you've done well with direction, I want you to come up with it this time. What would his death spell that would be important to know?'

"He managed trigger deals for overseas, right?" Izuku frowned, the man's quirk was called Pathfinding- which enabled him to find discreet and secure routes for transport, avoiding police inspections and lowering chances of being traced. He also worked for one of the two trigger manufacturers within Japanese borders- the other being under the yakuza group Eight Precepts.

It's what the shootout was about, actually- a dispute between the two lines. Ruslan was there then, so Izuku drafted up a note and dropped it off at the precinct alongside a batch of coffee beans. Gods know they need more. And if he died, then trigger exports would decrease. But that's too obvious. He frowns, Alice nods approvingly.

'You don't have to answer right away, think about it.'She assures.'It's only been five hours, most of the consequences won't appear until weeks later. Don't worry about being wrong either, it's not your responsibility. That, is up to Orca.'

She's right, while Alice likes using these events as case studies for him, she's the one coming up with actual strategies for the heroes under her pseudonym. Izuku usually just does quirk analysis. He relaxes, looking down, then a thought passes over him.

"Were you there?" He asks, voice faint, not meeting the cetacean's eyes.

Alice's expression softens. She knows what he means by that.'I haven't seen him in years.'She says gently, knowing what her answer means. Upon seeing his reaction, she sighs, and leans in to brush a kiss across his forehead. Her lips are cold, and he breathes in the faint not-scent of watery roses and something purple, and tries to imagine living without them.

He can't.

She doesn't say anything to comfort him. There isn't much to be said, after all. So she straightens, smoothing out the folds of her dress. She tucks her hair behind her shoulder as she turns to look in the direction of the door. 'Naomasa is here,' she says then, glancing back towards him with a hum, Izuku meets her eyes, 'do you want to go open the door right as he knocks?'

The thought of the look on the detective's face cheers him up a little, and Izuku grins.

When Shouta saw the pale, nondescript envelope lying on the desk and the grave expressions of the people surrounding it, he caught on almost immediately. While a white envelope is not at all something that's hard to come by in an official setting, and investigations into trigger deals definitely falls in the criteria- but they've got a track record by now, and he sighed as he was handed a copy of the contents, and the familiar wording was immediate confirmation.

"Vaquita." Shouta sighed, "let me guess, no signs of any fingerprints or hair this time either."

The man nodded, confirming his suspicions. "It arrived on my desk yesterday, we checked the security footage- the same person. We lost them five streets away."

By now, those actions are more out of protocol than any expectation of finding anything. Efforts into investigation of this particular vigilante- or informant, have yielded nothing, and they have since decided to leave the case in favour of- well. Everything else. This often happens with third-party informants, or sometimes vigilantes if they prove to be valuable and well-meaning, and Vaquita certainly fell among those categories.

The letter in his hand detailed their current information on hand and a rendezvous location for the group in charge of transportation of the drug. It highlighted it's financer- and connections to a cult based overseas, Humarise. It labelled their transport route, and where to best intercept.

The contents are extensive, detailed to the point of being terrifying- some theorise an information related quirk, however that would go against what they know of Vaquita- who had since confirmed that they personally drops off their letters. But it is also a known fact that Vaquita did not work alone. The contents confirm that much- referencing the source of information from other code-named individuals.

Vaquita- a critically endangered species of porpoise.Longman, a reference to longman's beaked whale, or the tropical bottlenose whale.Sei, the endangered sei whale. Orca, Humpback, Gray, Blue. It is entirely possible- and even logical to assume that the information gathered were the results of group effort, over a period of time, with Vaquita being their point of contact.

"So what now," Shouta glances up from the paper, meeting Tsukauchi's eyes, "do we follow their instructions?"

Letters from Vaquita had always been extensive in their coverage of information, and often provided strategies and advice for their situations at hand. Needless to say, it earned more than a few sour expressions when further investigations reveal the tactics the letter provided were not only logically their best options, but also often, their only option. Missions where heroes decided to ignore their advice often went catastrophically.

It won't be uncommon to find heroes that insist Vaquita and their companions were the ones behind those failures, and believed that the group are a team of arrogant band of villains who simply enjoyed the power trip of being 'right', punishing those who defy their orders for sport.

He wouldn't deny, sometimes having their answers handed out to them, even if they made the effort to confirm and doublecheck themselves left a sour taste in his mouth. They work far too smoothly, predictions far too accurate, so much so victories sometimes felt empty. Shouta had his own reservations regarding vigilantism, but it gets the job done- safely and efficiently to boot. What more can they ask for?

It wasn't all too surprising to find that slowly, members of the precinct began to grow used to- or even vaguely fond of the vigilante. Over time these letters have grown to be less impersonal to something that often contained, dare he say, banter with the officers. More than once letters had been dropped off alongside gifts or doughnuts. All of them end up with no traceable evidence, but honestly, the sentiments and greetings in the letters earn them enough favours as is.

Each of the background members often leave their own words, as well. This particular copy contained a short afterword from Omura, paraphrased by Vaquita, a short quip regarding drugs and depression. Previously they've had Gray, who offers them condolences for the paperwork, and shares with them a strong detestation for overtime. Sei, according to Sansa, gives great gardening tips. And of course, Minke, who remembers every officer's favourite doughnut/coffee combination.

Moreover, even through the tone and wording the letters seems to enjoy editing themselves in, there is ultimately something about the writer of the letters that felt... Young.

Vaquita displayed a strange reliance on their teammates- to the point where it did not seem as though they were equals. There was a kind of desperation in their words- with a bleeding heart to boot. Their collaborators in turn, appeared much more in their element and comfortable in comparison.

He read the letter again, and sighed. Shouta sincerely hoped that whoever is writing this letter, they are at least old enough to drink.

The door swings open the moment before he knocks, and Naomasa really should stop being surprised.

Midoriya Izuku stares up towards him with an innocent expression. His hair is damp— likely fresh out of a shower—and is dressed in one of his stupid T-shirts that just says what kind of shirt it is, paired with old, worn jeans. There are bags under his eyes, as usual, and bandages peek out from beneath his sleeves. He was hoping All Might had gotten the wrong name- but honestly that was just wishful thinking. This basically confirms it. He sighs, and drops his hand still suspended mid-knock, to bring the other up.

"I brought dinner," he offers, it's takeout from the local katsudon place- and he sees the moment Midoriya Izuku's eyes light up, as he steps to the side to let him in. He watches as Izuku ducks into the kitchen, rummaging through the cupboard for a pair of clean chopsticks. Meanwhile Naomasa sets the takeout on the dining table, and takes a look around.

The apartment is dark, and there's a faint smell of sweat in the air. Dishes lie unwashed in the sink, a plastic bag sits on the living room sofa, and a roll of bandages and a tube of burn cream lay on the coffee table. Peeking around, he can see that most surfaces are less dusty than the last time he was here, which he takes as a good sign.

From what he knows, the boy often eats at his own desk the multitude of take out plastics he sees in the trash also proves that hasn't changed. For a boy in his teens who's still growing, he really should take better care of himself. Not that Naomasa could blame him for the situation. He tries to visit, but he doesn't exactly have the most free time on his hands.

He met Izuku-kun roughly a year ago- he had been a year into his vigilante activities then- or rather, informant activities. It really depended on who you're asking. He recalls the day with surprising clarity, considering that strange effect that lingers around him. Running into the boy on a day off had not been what he expected. He was shocked at his age, but also infinitely glad that he ran into him at all- who knows what would have happened otherwise.

Izuku-kun ends up rinsing off a pair of chopsticks from the sink and passing him one of the disposable ones piled up in one of the drawers. The food is fine- it's takeout, but good take out, after years of overtime Naomasa really has mastered finding good takeout places and living without home cooking. His sister cooks, sometimes, but not often. He is seldom home when it's her dinner time anyway.

Izuku-kun seems to be enjoying the food, at least. He's scrawny, and looks about as sleep-deprived as Naomasa himself- who is a police detective, which is concerning. But above that, there's something else he had to ask about first.

"So," he starts, "All Might mentioned you today."

The boy stops mid-bite. He drops the piece of fried pork chop halfway into his mouth back into the bowl, and sets his chopsticks aside. He averts his eyes, "Taihaku Yoshihide died," He says instead.

Naomasa's quirk remains silent. Truth. "What-" he reels back, but Izuku doesn't give him time to finish his sentence at all. "Orca said he died 5 hours ago. He was injured in the shootout last week and got an infection, he passed out and drowned in his bathtub."

Five h- Naomasa pinches his forehead, his quirk again stays quiet. Truth. But he's quoting, so he can't exactly rely on that. It's something he often did- quoting to avoid his quirk. Though he's 80% sure that if he calls to check, it would eventually end up confirming what he said- because of course he knows. Vaquita knows everything. But that is not the point right now.

"... you're trying to change the topic, aren't you." Naomasa sighs into his hand, across the table, Izuku grins sheepishly.

"Is it working?" He asks, hopefully.

"For five seconds, yes. Not anymore," Naomasa feels like he's exhaling through his mouth audibly a lot more than he normally does these days, "you charged into an exploding alley."

The silence that follows is very telling. "Longman already told me off." Izuku-kun mumbles after that.

"Good. At least he has common sense."

"He'sthe one obsessed withdishes."

"You should do your dishes." Naomasa says, like a hypocrite. Because he still hasn't done his own dishes.

"Don't start." Izuku-kun glares, he glances to the side briefly before looking back towards him with an accusation in his eyes. "Oi, hypocrite. You haven't done your dishes either!"

Of course he knows that. Naomasa closes his eyes, feeling the sudden urge to screen his apartment for hidden cameras, knowing it would come up empty. "Okay, let's not talk about dishes. What about running straight towards a villain that just attacked you less than 30 minutes ago?"

The look of indignance on the boy's face falters, and he shrinks in his seat, expression closing. "...Cachalot taught me self defence?" He hesitantly offers. Naomasa can feel the migraine building in his forehead.

"Doesn't mean you can run into a burning alleyway with explosions going off all over the place!" Naomasa sighs. The boy may be Vaquita, but he is also aware and infinitely glad that he's not the one getting into places and getting that information himself- but that doesn't mean he's not worried. Now he knows that Izuku's not below getting into these places himself.

"I know you did it to save someone." Naomasa says, quiet, "but that was dangerous. You're young, a middle school student, with no official training or anything to protect yourself."

"I know that," Izuku-kun purses his lips, he seems frustrated, "like I said, Longman already told me off. Orca talked to me about it." He pauses. "It was Kacchan."

Naomasa looks up. He's familiar with that nickname. A neighbour of the Midoriyas, a classmate and bully. Bakugo Katsuki. The villain had abducted a boy with an explosion quirk- so it had been Bakugo Katsuki. He opens his mouth to say something.

"He was going to die."

Naomasa stops, then. Looking up he meets the boy's eyes, the beat of silence in his brain reminds him- his quirk hadn't gone off. The statement wasn't a guess, or any kind of exaggeration. That was something Izuku-kun believes to be a factual truth. And knowing Izuku, he probably has evidence.

"I ran in because he was going to die," Izuku-kun repeats, word by word, "no-one was doing anything. And I wasn't exactly thinking."

He picks up his chopsticks, and returns to his food. Naomasa chooses to drop the topic, then. Izuku-kun talks about Orca and Longman often enough that he knows they're sensible- if they already talked to him about it, he can probably relax.

It's awkward for a little while, and Izuku knows it. He picks at his food while Alice delicately perches on the table (yes, despite being 8'2. He's just used to this at this point), playing with his hair. Dinner ends uneventfully that way. They bring the dishes into the kitchen- and Izuku slips past the doorway to come face to face with Aegir, arms crossed and sitting cross-legged on the counter.

The cetacean jabs a finger at the sink as Tsukauchi-san enters behind him, raising a brow. Izuku winces as he peers into the dried, three days old instant noodles caked at the bottom of one of the bowls.

Yeah he should've done his dishes.

Tsukauchi-san clearly agrees, as he peeks at the sink from behind him, grimacing before dropping the utensils in with them, than he turns on the tap. He glances at the bandages on Izuku's arms, "I'll help."

Izuku protests, "ah, it's okay, I can just use gloves-"

'Kid, let him.' Aegir cuts him off, and Izuku glances his direction discreetly. 'Don't let them pile up next time. It gets disgusting.' There's a pause. 'And if you're not drinking it today, throw out the milk, it's going to go bad in two days.'

So Izuku settles with dutifully wiping down the plates next to him, arranging them back onto the racks. It wasn't much- he lives alone now after all, but he still feels slightly guilty about needing the detective's help. He keeps his gaze locked onto the counter. It's quiet- probably, to Tsukauchi-san.

It's never quiet for Izuku. He hears whale songs and glaciers singing instead. Standing next to Tsukauchi-san, he hears clockwork clicking and smells the faint not-scent of something like engine grease, which sounds unpleasant- but somehow isn't at all.

He's always liked people the clockwork sound follows. They are dime a dozen, but tend to have the best stories. Mundane, but warm. The kind that makes him want to root for them. Alice also tends to accompany them as well.

You don't strive for something without a strong motivation, after all. And love is a powerful motivator.

Izuku tilts his head to listen to the finer tones, just as Tsukauchi-san reaches over for the steel wool, glancing his way.

"You didn't seem surprised I'm acquainted with All Might." He states, Izuku realises then that the man probably thought the silence was a little awkward. He shrugs, and responds.

"I guessed." He says. That's a lie, and Tsukauchi-san would know- but what was he supposed to tell him? 'My invisible intangible nonexisting guardians doxxed you and gave me literally everything 'you-related' including all of your usernames passwords and embarrassing childhood stories like moms in the park the moment we met'?

From the doorway, Alice gives him a look of mock offence, pressing her fingers to her chest as if saying'me?'with the kind of indignance you'd expect from historical drama. Detecting his thought, she flicks her wrist then to commit to the aesthetics, and scoffs- Izuku thinks it might've been cringe, if her gown isn't so suited to the image. Then again the Cetaceans all dress like high fantasy gacha characters with the sole exception of Thyme, who is just a high fantasy elf cosplay.

It was her, by the way. She told him. And Tsukauchi-san, probably knowing that, just stares at him flatly. "Orca told you, didn't she." It was a statement, not a question, so he glances towards Alice, who shrugs.

"Yeah she did."

Tsukauchi-san just sighs. He does that a lot around him. Wonder why. Aegir just scoffs.

"Look, what I want to say is that, All Might noticed you- he's asked me for a way to contact you." He rinses down a pair of wooden chopsticks before handing them to Izuku, who absentmindedly begins wiping them dry. All Might asked to contact him? "I've known him for a while, so I have an idea of what the man wants to do, but I can't tell you because that would mean betraying his trust. It's not my secret to tell." There's a pause, "I know you probably have ways of knowing anyways, but it's the principle of the matter."

"No, I get it," Izuku shakes his head, he briefly meets eyes with Alice, who nods. They will be talking about this later. "So... you just want to ask me if it's okay for you to give him my contacts or something?"

"Address, since you don't have your phone number on file." Tsukauchi-san nods, "is that okay with you?"

"I..." Izuku trails off. Faintly now thymes join the wafting not-scent in the air, he catches a glimpse of the woman, now leaning against the fridge.

Being told details of trafficking cases, trigger deals and criminal activities in order to solve them doesn't leave much room for the kind of bright-eyed admiration he used to have with heroes. But despite everything- as well as how he's since been disillusioned with the hero society, All Might is still his favourite hero. In fact while the fanboying has toned down a little (toned down only, because who's he kidding, he's never not going to fanboy over All Might), he has grown to have a deeper admiration for the hero. The cetaceans seem to share his opinion too, which is saying a lot- though with varying attitudes.

He wants to meet the man again, talk to him, maybe fanboy a little more. Have him sign his merch. Some childhood dreams just don't die. He meets Alice's eyes, dimmed with something more sombre- and knows that things aren't that simple.

The cetacean closes her eyes.

'...Tell him yes,'when she opens them again, they're determined,'we'll have to talk about this later, but for now, it's okay. It won't be a problem.'

Okay.

"Izuku-kun?" Tsukauchi-san asks, a worried lilt entering his voice, Izuku turns away from the cetacean, facing the detective next to him.

"Yeah, it's alright," he answers as he drops the chopsticks back into the drawer, "I don't mind."

Somehow, this feels like a more important decision than it seems.

The letter wasn't signed, it was never meant to be.

He held onto Thyme's hand, as she led him into the station. No one looked at him. Not a single one even spared him a glance. He set the letter onto the desk of an officer with a cat's head, and left. Several weeks later news broke on the case- he watched as the same mother reunited with her child. They looked so happy, Izuku felt warmth rise in him with the thought. He heard glacial songs by their side, and a familiar wide-brimmed hat- the painted concept of flipping pages nowhere in sight.

'He's glad,'Aegir told him, when he looked his way. 'Reginleib may witness tragedies, but he's not heartless.'

Thyme scoffed, and somewhere in the kitchen where his mom is, where the scent of fresh rice and frying oil wafted, Alice laughed.

They had katsudon for dinner that night, while Izuku told his mom everything. From the letter to the news, to the glacial songs and painterly concepts that she could neither hear nor see.

He didn't often ask- but Izuku was curious, has always been and will always be. His questions were innocuous- and so were the cetaceans' answers. Heroes get scared too, they murmur, villains are people as well. There's a person on a plane flying overhead, and they are having an interesting dream. His neighbour just saw an interesting calico, and it had patterns shaped like hearts.

He shared them with his mother, and they smiled together.

His mother, whose protective anger burns so bright he can see it. His mother, who loves him so deep he hears glaciers sing all the time. His mother, who when others look towards him with glazed eyes, raises her voice. Who is kind and good and fierce and warm.

December that year, Midoriya Inko's car crashed into the side of a truck. She fell asleep, and didn't wake up again. Izuku watched as people passed him by, and watched again as eyes glazed over as they passed by him and-

what's the point?

He went to sleep that day with bruises and reddened scratches, and woke with azaleas in the air of his bedroom, Alice gently combing her fingers through his hair.

Fingers grazed his cheeks, and they gently laid over his eyes. The cold is familiar, but there's a different cold in the room now. One he would eventually grow accustomed to. One he would never grow to like.

He met Alice's eyes, framed through her fingers, she looked strangely melancholy. Izuku felt heavy- he felt useless.

He felt like 'Deku'.

But maybe he could not- be a Deku. He could do something. He couldn't do anything about his mom- he couldn't do anything about Kacchan. But maybe he could do something else.

Asking a question had never been so easy.

A/N:

Surprise surprise Izuku is a vigilante/informant how original. Seriously though this is very much something he'd do with omniscient beings around him. This chapter is where the plot really starts to diverge from the OG version of Star Whale Songs. (Even the title is different.) You might also notice Izuku's much more strained relationship with Sezia Marena in particular. It's something I'd like to address as a theme for these chapters.

I'm very excited to get to where we start digging deeper into how being able to see concepts affect Izuku's view of the hero society. Hope you enjoyed reading! Feel free to comment, tell me what you think. I love hearing people's thoughts.

Cetaceans introduced

? Reginleib- Witness of Tragedies