"What's this about?" Izuku asked, scanning every hallway as they walked. It'd taken a minute to convince Toga to let him and Morse go but they were alone with Hara now, the older man guiding them silently.

"I don't know," Hara shrugged.

"What did they tell you?"

"To bring you both back."

"For what?"

"I don't know. I don't get paid to ask questions, man." The frustrated huff made Izuku bite his lip and quiet down. He couldn't help it that he wanted to know things after being in the dark for so long. He wanted to ask more—everything—, but he didn't want to upset the friend he'd just gotten back. Hara gave him a look and clicked his tongue.

"They're having a meeting, I know that much." The yakuza said after a while.

"...About what?" Izuku pushed further, though much gentler this time. Hara gave Morse a pointed look, her hand wrapped in Izuku's, and the teen bit his tongue. Was the situation horrible or just neutrally bad? When had 'bad' become such a staple in his life? Was it before or after he started traveling with Stain? Maybe since Kaachan got his quirk? No, focus. That wasn't important. He needed to try at least and figure out why Stain and Overhaul would want him there for a discussion about someone that wasn't him. He could guess what the subject of discussion could be, though there were plenty of possibilities on the table. Oh Gods, did he even know if Stain would be on his side? Depending on the topic, Izuku would either end up fighting one or two very dangerous criminals, neither of which had any reason to listen to a kid like him. That could be bad. But–

"Is this a thing you do? How did you stay so quiet in Deika?" Hara asked, making Izuku bite the inside of his cheek mid-mumbling. Crap, when was the last time he did that?

"...Sorry."

"You're such an open book. You should work on that."

Izuku blinked and Hara shrugged.

"Talkers don't usually last long around here. Just a friendly warning, I suppose."

Reassuring, for sure.

He didn't know how much longer he had until he had to face Overhaul again—A part of him didn't want to face Stain at the moment, either, but he would never admit that—and while keeping his mouth shut and thinking of a plan would be a more sensible use of his time, he didn't want to blank out just after being reunited with his friend. But what could he say? Was there even anything at all that wouldn't cross a line? If Stain saw them talking, would he accuse Izuku of betrayal? Of losing his way, even if he just desperately wanted to know how Hara had gotten back the physical bits that Curious and the MLA had taken away?

Before he could decide on what to do, Hara stopped in front of a door.

Time's up.

"Good luck in there," Hara offered. "Try not to panic too much."

"Yeah. Thanks." Izuku reached for the doorknob, hesitating just enough for it to be obvious before opening the door.

He blinked rapidly, the small change in lighting hurting his eyes. He took in all the same details he had before—the flag, the floor, the couches—as if he'd never seen them prior before his eyes landed on the other two men in the room. Stain was standing to the side, Overhaul on the couch, all eyes on Izuku. Morse holding on to him was the only thing keeping him from running.

"Ah, Midoriya. It's good to see you in better condition." Overhaul blinked, offering Izuku a seat that the teen awkwardly ignored for the sake of just standing where he was—by the door. The yakuza didn't seem to mind at all, his eyes betraying nothing. "I'm glad you could join us."

"What's this about?" Izuku asked. If this had been about him, he wouldn't have found the courage to speak, much less the ability to focus correctly, but this was about his much more vulnerable friend. If there were two undeniable facts about Izuku it was that he was much braver when it came to defending others and that he never figured out how to pick a fight.

Overhaul blinked slowly, his eyes sliding from one person to the other before speaking.

"The newest acquisition to your team has an unpredictable and uncontrolled quirk. She's been given a more modern quirk-suppression vest to help deal with it, as you probably already noticed."

Morse pressed against him and Izuku realized that he, in fact, hadn't noticed anything at all.

"Now, you might recall that one of the terms I gave you so that you could remain here was dealing with said quirk more permanently." Overhaul continued, raising all kinds of alarms in Izuku's head. The list of solutions that his mind conjured up was short and brutal, his arm pulling Morse closer on pure instinct. Overhaul was quick to catch on to that and the man held up two gloved hands in a non-aggressive gesture. Izuku couldn't help but imagine blood on the pristine white fabric.

"I mean no harm. What I'm suggesting is perfectly safe, but your mentor wanted you to make that final call."

"...Why me?" Izuku frowned, giving Stain a look.

"She's not my problem." Stain practically glared at him, his fists tightening before he shrugged.

Izuku swallowed. Morse was shaking by his side and he made a conscious effort to not ask what Stain had meant; in part, because he could already guess, but mostly because he knew that Morse wasn't stupid and that she would feel responsible if they started arguing about her right now. She was a kind soul after all, and Izuku wanted to protect her. After a long moment, Izuku sighed, shoulders pulled back to try and look serious.

"And what exactly are you suggesting?"

"...I propose taking her quirk away."

Morse froze by his side while Izuku stared at Overhaul, waiting for either a lengthy explanation or a laugh because this couldn't possibly be a serious thing. Could it?

"I'm sorry, what?" Izuku pinched the bridge of his nose, a migraine already setting in. "That's impossible."

"It's easier than you'd think, given the right tools and people. Both of which we have."

"I've never heard of…" And then he stopped himself because actually, he had. For the first time in weeks, past the rust that Curious and the white room had caused to start eroding his mind, the cogs in his brain began to turn properly. He wondered how old the news articles would be by now, or if the clippings he'd stored in his backpack were even still there.

"There are billions of individuals with unique quirks around the world," Overhaul said, his voice a tad deeper than before. "It is only natural that, amongst the mess, more than one would be able to erase the others."

Morse reached for the bandage around her eyes, not taking it off but trying to look at the man speaking. Izuku swallowed. He needed to be careful, regardless of how he felt. Even a hint of his suspicions could put everyone in danger, so he had to act as ignorantly curious as he could. Easier said than done, sure, but that was all he had.

"You're…" His voice hitched, forcing him to clear his throat. "How would you do that, exactly?"

"It's an easy procedure. Won't take more than five minutes."

"Don't you need to operate or…?"

"No. A simple injection, and she'll be rid of her sickness."

Oh, Lord.

"That's it?"

"Yes."

"And it's permanent? She won't… Get her power back?"

"No. She will not."

Izuku exhaled shakily, fighting off the urge to take a seat. He glanced at Stain but the man was looking at Overhaul, and the teen was left to navigate the situation on his lonesome. This opened so many doors, most of them dark beyond the threshold, and he didn't know how to take the offer because he didn't know it that was all it was. Was he expected to believe that a calculating villain would just make such an offer? That's all it was, a simple solution to what the yakuza considered a threat?

No. Impossible. But this wasn't about that, was it?

Morse's breathing was picking up, her hands pulling at his sleeve like a child trying to get their parent's attention. His heart sank and, against every alarm in his brain, he spoke softer than before.

"Will it hurt her? Is it safe?"

"It will affect nothing but her quirk."

"And you're sure it works? There's no chance of it failing?"

"You have my word."

Morse whined and Izuku sighed.

"Is this what you want?"

Morse nodded furiously.

"You won't get it back, ever. You'll be quirkless." Why did his voice have to catch at that last bit? Why was he so weak? "Are you sure you want that?"

Her nodding got quicker, her hands trying to drum out a word but shaking too much to do it. Izuku opened his mouth to ask for further confirmation, but she beat him to the punch.

" Please," She sounded so desperate that Izuku couldn't find it in him to say anything else. He rubbed his mouth, his tongue feeling dry and his hand shaking all of a sudden. It felt wrong, like watching someone ask to get a limb taken off, but he knew from experience how much Morse hated her quirk. He was struck with the memory of putting her vest back on, watching her take fabric out of her mouth with fear only to break down crying out of relief that her quirk was gone, if only temporarily.

It wasn't about him.

"Okay." He patted her arm, smiling when she grabbed his hand. "Okay, let's do it."

"Wonderful." Izuku could hear the smile behind Overhaul's mask.

They weren't moved to the infirmary—the problem from before apparently still banned them from there—, but rather a small office with two desks shoved into a corner and two doors accessing the tiny room. Izuku bit his cheek, feeling conflicted about Morse's hands gripping his shirt. It was an inner battle between his protective instincts and his fight-or-flight response, all accentuated by Stain's eyes as they followed Izuku's every move and flinch. A door opened and the man with blue eyes that had greeted them at the infirmary walked in, though he was wearing a plague mask now. In his hand was a small plastic case that made Izuku's stomach lurch.

"Are we ready?" The doctor asked Morse, who nodded blindly.

"...Yeah." Izuku croaked, feeling like the one about to go through a life-altering procedure was him and not Morse. He led her towards the desk on stiff legs, watching her awkwardly push herself up to take a seat and noticing for the first time that she was wearing some of Toga's clothes. Just one more detail that had escaped him lately, he sulked. He went to step out of the way when Morse's hand snatched out and gripped his. Right. Of course.

"It's okay. I'm here," He reassured, thankful that Morse couldn't look at him because he wouldn't be able to keep eye contact. He swallowed thickly, examining the room with numb curiosity as the doctor rubbed some alcohol on Morse's arm. Stain was leaning against the wall by Izuku's side with a neutral expression—or, whatever passes off as neutral with someone like Stain—that made him all the more nervous. There was something there, something off that he didn't want to linger on for too long in case he figured out what that was.

He was surprised when the doctor pulled a legitimate syringe out of the case, with no red casings in sight. He'd been expecting the packaging to be the same, and wondered if the people that reported the incidents even knew that the 'bullets' that had taken away their quirks were passing through the underbelly of the city like drugs.

"Little pinch," The doctor said gently, showing real care towards Morse. She whimpered, the sound longer than the injection itself, and hid her face on Izuku's shoulder. "All done."

"That's it?" He blurted it out without a thought, anxiety burning through his veins and forming a cold spot on his lower back.

"Yes." The doctor was already snapping the metal end of the syringe for proper disposal, the tiny plastic cylinder empty. That was that. "You can take the vest off, now."

Morse was shivering, tapping at Izuku's chest in what might have been a grand speech for all he knew. Her terror was shining through now, some deep-seated distrust when it came to people regarding her quirk and her general existence that Izuku had witnessed more than once. She looked so tiny, so afraid, that Izuku wanted to go back and watch Toga disembowel Re-Destro all over again. He and Curious could rot in the deepest level of hell for all he cared.

"Come on," Izuku exhaled, so much air leaving his lungs. "Let's take this off."

Morse curled in on herself for a solid moment, shaking her head like a child.

"Hey, you're okay. Alive and free, right?" Izuku whispered, knocking on the wooden desk. She tensed, only allowing him to start working on the vest after swallowing back a few sobs. The new, much more modern-looking vest around her torso was clean and simple. It looked like it was just a normal quirk-suppressing item, the locks on the side indicating that it was police-grade equipment, and Izuku nodded in silent understanding as he helped the doctor unlock each clasp with a set of tiny keys, five in total. Izuku put every detail in the back of his mind, aware of the golden eyes watching him.

The vest was carefully removed and placed on the desk, though it felt as if it had dropped and splintered the floor. The bandage around Morse's eyes was already drenched in tears, her hands tightly clasped around her mouth. Izuku exhaled shakily, bracing for anything that could go wrong. Overhaul looked relaxed as ever, both he and Stain watching the show with different reactions; one stoic, one warily clutching a knife. Izuku reached out, his hands hovering over Morse's shoulders as the memory of him punching her struck him. Suddenly feeling unworthy, Izuku's hands dropped by his side.

"The light." He stammered, pointing somewhere at random and hoping that either the switch or a person willing to aid him would be there. "Can you turn that off?"

"Why?" Overhaul asked, waving for the doctor to comply just out of sight.

"She doesn't like them." He responded.

"Her eyes are incredibly sensitive, a symptom of something bigger that probably went untreated for a long time. Her eye color also doesn't help." The doctor said, making Izuku chuckle hollowly. Of course, she probably hadn't gotten much medical attention while she was locked up. It was a miracle she could move or speak at all. The thought of being down there, in the dark, for months or even years made him feel faint, and he had to put both hands on the desk to keep himself from swaying as the room plunged into darkness.

"Okay," Izuku murmured, trying to comfort two people at the same time. "It's okay."

Morse whimpered, and Izuku pushed himself to move. He barely brushed his fingers over her hands but she still jumped back, breaking his heart all over again.

"Come on. It's gone now." It was like approaching a wounded animal. He had to be careful and slow and get her to open up on her own, so he settled for very carefully lifting the blindfold. "Look at me." He couldn't tell with only the light filtering under the doors, but he assumed that she looked. "It worked, okay?" He didn't know that, couldn't know it yet, but he pushed that logic aside. "You're safe, and you'd never hurt me, okay?"

She nodded shakily, the edges of her silhouette barely illuminated. Izuku found her hands over her mouth and pulled them back, horrified to find that she'd been biting down on her fingers. He wished he could see Curious expire under his mentor's boot. Morse sniffled, and Izuku sighed. Now was not the time for vindictiveness. He thought of his first few moments in his cell, alone and scared, and of the tiny voice that had broken through the haze. His lip trembled and he forced a smile through the pain, holding her hands as she clung to him.

"What's your name?" He asked, hoping to do for her even a tiny bit of what she'd done for him. There was a tiny whine, the sound causing no one to flinch, followed by another little cry. Again, nothing happened. Then a long inhale and stammer of hesitation.

"Morse." Her voice was so quiet even when she wasn't whispering, Izuku noted, but her laughter was high-pitched and coarse, the sound mixing with loud, desperate sobs and not quite getting muffled against his chest. She openly wept as Izuku held her, repeating the word—her only name, it would seem—over and over. He was flooded with emotions, too lost in thought to realize that he'd shed a few tears himself.

For so long, Midoriya Izuku's existence had been defined by the things he lacked. He'd been born an outcast in a world where irregularities reigned supreme, and for many years Izuku had considered himself to be cursed. How could he not, after endless nights futilely attempting to move objects or breathe out fire to, at the very least, resemble his parents? Years of mockery and self-hatred, of wishing and praying for a miracle that had never come, had molded him into an insecure, sad child who even, at one point, believed that his father had left because of how lacking he was as a human. For as long as he could remember, that wanting, that need to belong, had torn at his insides with a passion that he was unable to describe. For years, Izuku would have given anything to be an average boy. And now here he was, holding a woman as she broke down from relief at having her quirk taken from her, and wanting someone to hold him as well. His younger self watched in confusion, remembering how he'd wished to have one of his peers' quirks—usefulness and practicality be damned—and wondering at what point the world had turned on its head. He was spinning in the air, one side of a wretched coin that brought nothing but misery regardless of which side it landed on. And it had always been like that, now that he thought about it. Dreaming about what quirk he'd get, waiting a year before going to the doctors, living in childish denial up until the end of middle school; all that time he'd been living in suspension, praying that things would miraculously fall into place. All Might had broken that frozen pace and while this felt like that, it was a very different type of realization. Because before, Izuku had believed that he'd been an oddity, a loose thread in an otherwise tight-knit tapestry, and that if he wanted change then he would have to be the one to cut himself loose. But now? Now he knew just where to pull to get the whole thing to come undone. It was doable. Quirks were nothing. And for a split second, just long enough to make himself sick, Izuku wished Curious hadn't died just so he could shove his epiphany in her face.

" Thank you ," Morse whimpered, clinging to Izuku.

"You're not the first person to need healing from their affliction. Certainly won't be the last." Overhaul spoke, only the outline of his mask visible in the low light. "I do it gladly."

"H-How?" Izuku stammered, a peal of bizarre laughter fighting its way out of his stomach. "It's not possible."

"As I said, it's not that hard once you find the right quirk to use."

"You've…" Izuku couldn't find the words he wanted. Stain's presence reminded him that he had to be mindful of what he said, but he was too emotional to not question this new reality he found himself in.

"Done this before? Plenty of times."

Izuku swallowed thickly, turning towards the voice in the dark. Quirks were absolute—had been—, the entire value and pivot of society, and yet this man chipped away at it by his lonesome?

"Why?"

Overhaul paused for a moment. Izuku thought he might have been debating answering, not once thinking that those golden eyes were well adjusted to the dark and watching him clinically.

"Quirks are… a plague. People spread them like rats, no matter how obviously unsustainable they are becoming. Even one person being cured is a victory to me… so it is well worth the sacrifice and time put into it."

Izuku shook, his eyes impossibly wide. His skin prickled with bad memories, with ideas and claims that were not his own, things that had marked him against his will.

"I don't… I…"

"You don't need to. I'm sure you… understand it better than most."

He did, in a sick way. He wanted to ask more, understand it properly, because he'd just witnessed something akin to heavenly intervention. Everything he'd known, the people he'd just escaped, the laws he'd regarded as immovable, had just crumbled into dust at this strange man's feet, and he wanted to know how. He needed to know, to learn, to understand. He reached out in the dark, his mind already finding ways to let himself into this new reality. He wanted, oh so desperately, to jump from one side of the balance to the other. His mouth opened, the ringing in his ear impossibly loud, and he started reaching out in the dark when–

"Are you done?" Stain asked coldly. The darkness masking his mentor's expression chilled him and his hand flew back as if he'd been burned, the teen closing his eyes tightly.

"...Yes, we are. Sorry for holding you." Overhaul said, walking right past Izuku as the doctor warned Morse before switching the lights back on. The wondrous spell that had taken over the room suddenly vanished, the light cracking something in Izuku's chest that left him a shivering, confused mess. He turned towards Stain for comfort, but the man was practically dissecting him with his eyes, and Izuku, dropping his hand sadly, had no choice but to simply follow the other man outside without another word.

Even if he'd known the layout of the underground complex, the dizziness he felt after witnessing Morse's quirk vanish distracted him from which way they were going. He was walking on autopilot, blindly leading Morse as he replayed the last thirty minutes in his head. It was the fact that there wasn't much to replay that bothered him most, he thought. It'd just been so straightforward that it was hard to grasp just how impactful the whole ordeal had been. A quirk, a person's defining trait in the eyes of many, erased in a second by a lowly injection. Actually, what bothered him most was that he hadn't watched someone lose a gift, but rather someone gain freedom. He wondered if, in the case that he magically got a quirk, he would curse the coveted power like Midas. Would that even be possible? A Midoriya Izuku that would willingly turn down a quirk sounded unreal, to say the least. A small pang of guilt hit him, months of training with Stain coming to the forefront of his mind. The dismissal of quirks had been one of Stain's first lessons, and Izuku had been able to take down targets and foes with his own two hands.

With your own will and strength, the Hero Killer had told him all those months ago. He'd believed that, pushed forward by those words alone. But now he'd seen the beast in the eyes, and no amount of optimism or determination could fool him into thinking that he'd be able to take on Re-Destro or Lemillion without a power of his own. Was he angry, or just resentful at the hand he'd been dealt? Would he honestly trade places with Morse? Was he so transfixed that he would willingly take an uncontrollable, destructive power, and keep it?

A door slammed behind him, making him jump a foot in the air. They were back in their room, only the three of them, but before Izuku could ask he was ripped away from Morse. It was only at moments like this, when Stain pulled him by the front of the shirt so they were eye to eye and Izuku's feet barely scraped the floor, that he was reminded of their height difference.

"I'm willing to believe that your little study sessions while locked away did not yield the disgusting result that Curious intended," Stain's deep voice caught at the woman's name with pure disgust, eyes downcast. "I'll be kind and take your word for it. But don't expect me to ignore you reaching out to scum as if they were a savior, Izuku."

He swallowed, his throat feeling like sandpaper. His mouth opened, lips barely parted, but the glare he got killed his voice.

"I knew that bastard would try something, but I must admit I am disappointed in you for taking such obvious bait."

Izuku's eyes scanned the room for anything that could save him, but there was nothing besides empty beds and a shivering Morse a few feet away.

"And do not brush it off as curiosity. I know you better than that, I've seen that look in your eyes before. You're more than that, you hear me? You should be above this by now." He shook the teen violently for good measure, pulling him closer. Izuku could taste vile.

"I've taught you everything I know, everything that matters, and quirks are not one of those things. If the world fell apart tomorrow, you should be able to function the same. If quirks get destroyed, you have to be able to carry on, no questions asked. No matter who gets changed, or taken, or who gets what ripped from them, we move on. Do you get that?! Do you e–"

It was the softest touch, just Izuku's hand landing on his mentor's arm in silent begging. The sight of his face must have been pathetic because Stain's eyes flashed, fury dissipating into sobriety at the speed of light. His brows shot upwards, head shaking as he examined Izuku from head to toe as if he was supposed to be holding someone else. A tiny, shaky whimper escaped Izuku's throat and Stain shoved him away, looking bitterly hurt. The man was out the door before Izuku's body hit the floor, but he still scrambled to get up and follow his mentor even when he knew it was useless. And sure enough, when Izuku ran outside, the hallway was empty, not even the echo of steps able to guide him.