Names in this chapter were put together via random name generator, because I'm British and therefore my knowledge of Japan is basically nonexistent. Hopefully they turned out alright.
As always, I hope you enjoy.
Somehow, Nedzu managed to be even more alarmingly nonchalant about the whole accidental cultist thing than Aizawa. Izuku didn't find much frightening these days- not even Shigaraki really frightened him, on a personal level. But the grin that Nedzu was wearing at the prospect of infiltrating a neo-MLA cell sent a shudder down Izuku's spine.
Although the way Aizawa was blowing through cans of iced espresso was nearly as bad. Never mind his own health, Aizawa was going to give Izuku an ulcer. Where did he even find those? Was this why the man looked constantly exhausted- had his caffeine intake reached such horrifying levels that he couldn't keep up with demand? Was Aizawa in a permanent state of caffeine withdrawal? Was this what Izuku could be like in twenty years time?
Well, maybe not the last question. Izuku already had plans for some extremely powerful stimulants in case he needed to stay awake for seventy-two hours straight. Jason hadn't taken them nearly as often as Bruce, but he'd sometimes had no other choice. Izuku bit his lip, remembering a thick disgust at the thought of the little pills, but he couldn't remember where it came from. Not that it mattered now. Just another memory that he didn't have the context for.
"I always like to see our students showing initiative," Nedzu cheerfully told them, "Don't you agree, Aizawa?"
Aizawa directed a glare at an empty, innocent wall, tipping his third can of espresso to his mouth and gulping it down. The Principal didn't seem remotely phased by the rudeness, continuing to smile and continue.
"Of course, any infiltration is always a risk. Doubly so when there's a student involved! But at the Festival, there will be plenty of Heroes in attendance. It's bold of this neo-MLA cell to act so openly, don't you think?"
Aizawa made a noise that was most of the way towards a growl. Izuku shifted, slightly uncomfortable, but Nedzu ignored it.
"What do you think, Mr Midoriya?"
"I…um, I don't think they've built this on their own. They don't have a leader, really. They seem like a cult, but without someone to actually create them? So…"
"So you think they're being backed by someone," Aizawa grated, his already gruff voice made even harsher by the copious amounts of coffee. Nedzu folded his paws together, baring his teeth- Izuku wouldn't do the expression the injustice of calling it a smile.
"It's not an unreasonable assumption, Aizawa. I've looked it into it, years ago, out of curiosity. Destro and those members of his inner circle who were captured refused to name any of their collaborators, but I'm quite certain that due diligence was not done. The captured and dead might have composed the entire leadership of the MLA, but I find it very unlikely."
Aizawa scrubbed a hand at his face.
"How can you just leave something like that in the wind? Not you- the Heroes and government of the time. Jesus Christ, the MLA almost overthrew the government."
Nedzu spread his hands in a conciliatory gesture.
"I cannot speak for people long dead, of course, but I suspect they simply wanted it to go away. I am no expert on human nature-"
That sounded like a lie to Izuku. Nedzu was unnaturally intelligent, possibly the most intelligent being on the Earth, there was no way he didn't have at least an academic grasp.
"-but I believe they preferred to, what is the saying, bury their heads in the sand. There was no further trouble, so they didn't go looking for it."
"So you're saying, what, the MLA has been reforming in hiding for the past however many years? That they're bankrolling and recruiting whole cells?"
"A good way to properly judge public sympathy, yes? If there was an upswell of support, they could emerge once again. If there wasn't, they simply prune the tree, as it were, and retreat once again. While unlikely that this cell- do they have a name, Mr Midoriya?"
"Um…I think they've settled on the Oppressed Meta Command?"
Aizawa snorted.
"Really?"
Izuku shrugged.
"Is it any worse than The League Of Villains?"
"Those bastards," Aizawa muttered, quietly enough that Izuku probably wasn't meant to hear it, "Alright, Midoriya. You make a good point. Nedzu. I'm willing to entertain the thought of Midoriya meeting cell members at the Festival and wearing a wire. I'm not going to send a student into the depths of the MLA, if it really exists. Especially a Quirkless student, no matter how skilled he is. Speaking of…Midoriya, how did you even convince them? Are you sure you'll be able to convince them that you've got a Quirk?"
It looked like Aizawa was having second thoughts. Izuku couldn't really blame him, although he might be able to sooth some of his concerns in this case. Izuku straightened in his chair, drawing more on Jason, on memories of infiltrations, on a confidence that he sometimes forgot.
"My Quirk? Well, it ain't that great, you know? It lets me turn off my pain receptors, all across my body," Izuku said, his accent changing a fraction. He leaned forwards, lifting up his prosthetic and peeling back his sleeve, deliberately making eye contact with Aizawa.
"When I was little, you know, I didn't even think about it. Broke my arm so bad it needed amputation, didn't even notice. But I gotta tell you, apart from that- what's this Quirkless kid got that I don't? I got arms and legs and a brain, just like him. An' I've got a Quirk if I need it. I ain't some primitive throwback, right? You agree with me, right?"
He put just the right amount of insecurity into the last phrase. Aizawa looked somewhere between disgusted and impressed and Nedzu chuckled.
"Ah, excellent. Excellent. I see why he is your favourite, Aizawa!"
"I don't have favourites. Where did you learn that, kid?"
Izuku leaned back, letting his posture sag. He hated that he could slip so easily into a character like that, but it was all memory. Not Jason's, either. Just a jumble of schoolmates that Izuku had met and only half-remembered, tied together by an inherited infiltration ability.
"You hear enough of it," Izuku said quietly, "You learn to mimic it. It wasn't any good for long periods…teachers liked to let everyone know, anyway, so I couldn't have pretended to have a Quirk for long. I thought about it though, sometimes."
Aizawa's nostrils flared as he drew in a deep breath, but he didn't say anything immediately.
"Not that I don't want to address that, but I guess this is more important. This pain cancelling Quirk. You can replicate it?"
"If I can get access to some strong painkillers," Izuku said dryly, "I've seen some Support designs for some that should work."
So long as he didn't take more than one every week or so he should be able to avoid addiction. The thought sent a crawling, dragging shudder down his back and Izuku barely hid it- he didn't even know where it had come from. Yes, he didn't want to get addicted to painkillers- but such a strong, visceral reaction needed more than a normal dislike. Aizawa had pinched his eyes closed.
"I want you to know, Midoriya, that I absolutely hate this plan. And I hate even more that I'm tempted to allow it."
Izuku blinked. Aizawa held up a hand.
"But. If you feel like you're in danger, you get out. I want you equipped with a panic button and a tracker, and I want to be in constant contact. Or at least, someone has to be in constant contact. And I want a whole team ready to extract him if things go wrong. I'm not budging on that, Nedzu."
"I wouldn't expect you to," the Principal said cheerfully, "And I quite agree! While I'm sure that Mr Midoriya would be willing to carry out a more in-depth infiltration, all I'd like is for you to carry out a meeting at the Sports Festival and slip a small device onto one of them. After that, you can break contact with them if you like- although I daresay your further assistance would be valuable…"
"Stop that," Aizawa snapped, "I can see what you're doing. You're supposed to be above guilt-tripping."
Nedzu just smiled. Izuku was starting to get a headache just from being there. He could have just let it go, but no. He had to get interested, didn't he? Just couldn't leave it alone. Aizawa pinched his brow in frustration.
"Yeah, alright. I get it. Midoriya…I know it sounded like I wasn't giving you much of a choice earlier, but if you want to call this off we can. I know you're brave, kid, but neo-MLA cells are even worse than the originals when it comes to Quirkless discrimination. If they find out you'll be in real danger."
Izuku shook his head.
"I know, sir," he said, his voice soft and resolute, "But if I was frightened of danger I wouldn't have become a Hero student in the first place."
Aizawa let out a breath that sounded like it was dragged from the bottom-most pit of his soul and nodded.
"Alright, kid. We'll do it. But I hope this is the only time you'll have to meet with them."
Two days later Izuku had finally had enough of Todoroki avoiding him. At least, he thought the other boy was avoiding him. Maybe it was coincidence. But Izuku needed to thank him for the USJ, and it was going to happen whether Todoroki wanted to hear it or not.
That said, it was always better to at least attempt diplomacy.
"Todoroki," he called when the last class of the day ended and they were about to leave, "Can I have a word?"
He'd already warned Mina, Tsuyu and Kirishima about it, so they kept going without a pause. Todoroki himself halted, eyes narrowing the tiniest fraction. To most people, he would have looked utterly emotionless. To Izuku, who had inherited a good deal of body-language reading skills and stayed in good practice from being friends with Tsuyu, he looked nervous. Aizawa raised an eyebrow at Izuku, but left the room without comment. Izuku sighed.
"Finally. I just wanted to say thank you, Todoroki. And sorry. I'm sorry that I made you use the fire part of your Quirk."
Todoroki's eyes- mismatched Izuku noticed, and he wondered if the heterochromia was a result of his Quirk or unrelated, not that it mattered- widened. Izuku blinked in response. It was hard to tell what Todoroki was thinking- reading his microexpressions was all well and good but his body language was barely there. He stood still, almost unnaturally so. Izuku wondered what sort of training he'd been through to end up like that.
He'd bet, maybe not his right arm but probably a couple of fingers, that it hadn't been all nice and kind. His opinion of Endeavour, already not that great given the mans surly disposition and penchant for indiscriminate collateral damage- what kind of lunatic saw a flying villain and decided the best option was to melt handholds into a building to go after them- soured even further. Alright. He was never again using Endeavour as an example in his 'sometimes Heroes are dicks but if they're saving people that's not too bad' argument.
"His fire," Todoroki abruptly said, "How did you know I have it?"
His fire? Yeah, Izuku wasn't touching that one without a degree in therapy and maybe some tranquilisers. He could guess who the 'he' was, as well.
"I…remembered that your father is Endeavour, and that he's got a powerful Fire Quirk," Izuku carefully answered, surreptitiously eyeing the scar on Todoroki's face- not a dry burn, he thought, more like a scalding, though that hardly mattered at the moment, "And Quirks usually pass along in families in some way. And you only use one hand, so I took a guess that you had a second part to your Quirk."
That last line got a reaction, although it was a curling of Todoroki's lip and a narrowing of his eyes. It was remarkable that the scar didn't seem to restrict his vision, his eye wasn't narrower than the other. He'd been very lucky. Well, for a given definition of luck.
"You bet your life on a guess?"
"Well," Izuku said, taking a seat on his desk in an attempt to defuse any tension that might arise, "I was going to die anyway. If you didn't have a suitable Quirk I would have bled to death the same as if I hadn't asked, so I thought it was worth a shot."
Izuku lifted his left hand, wiggling the prosthetic fingers in demonstration.
"And, as it turned out, it was a good guess. But, like I said, I'm sorry for making you use your fire. I wouldn't have done it in another circumstance."
Todoroki had definitely reacted when Izuku said 'your fire'. Izuku didn't think it was the mention of fire, either. Great. Just fantastic. And he didn't think that Todoroki was about to spill his whole life story to someone he'd barely exchanged two words with.
"You aren't going to say anything about not using my full power? About not trying my hardest?" Todoroki asked, his voice low. Izuku tilted his head, fingers twitching towards his collarbone before he tucked his hand into a pocket.
"Not really," he admitted, "Seems a bit hypocritical. I mean, even only using your ice you've got a lot more power than I have, so…"
Todoroki peered at him, his brow wrinkling. Finally, a real human expression. Looked like Todoroki was a real boy after all, even if the demonstrated emotion was suspicion.
"I would have thought," he said slowly, "That you might be offended. When you've tried so hard to get here, and I'm not using all of my strength. Doesn't it make you…angry?"
"Angry," Izuku repeated, leaning back. "Would you like me to be angry, Todoroki?"
Todoroki raised an eyebrow, suspicion melting into confusion.
"Aren't you?"
Izuku wondered how much fury was seething under that cold surface. A more romantic person might have called the possibility poetic. Izuku called it concerning. But Todoroki had asked a question that deserved an answer.
"Not really," Izuku said, shrugging, "Some people are born with godlike powers, some people are born with a cactus for a head, and some people are me. I'd only be angry if you were looking down on me. You're not looking down on me, right?"
Mis-matched eyes blinked again, Todoroki holding Izuku's gaze.
"No," he said, and Izuku couldn't hear any lie in it, "I'm not."
Izuku nodded.
"Then, it's your problem that you're not using all of your power, not mine."
Izuku thought about it. There were arguments he could make- he could bring up the people that Todoroki might not be able to save, he could use himself as an example, he could argue that Todoroki might die one day because he wasn't practiced in using his fire, but would it really get through to the other boy? Would he really listen to someone like Izuku? And really, Izuku hadn't been lying when he said that Todoroki was far more powerful than Izuku even just using his ice. Maybe the Sports Festival would give Todoroki his wake-up call. Maybe it wouldn't. But some things took time, and patience was better than force. You caught more flies with honey than with vinegar.
Todoroki nodded.
"You're right. It is my problem, not yours. I appreciate your concern, but I don't need it."
Oh look, another poorly socialised member of class 1-A. They were breeding like flies. Maybe Izuku should try to talk Aizawa into a 'how to talk to people' seminar. Well, maybe not Aizawa. Mr Yamada or Miss Kayama, maybe? Present Mic and Midnight were a lot better adjusted than Eraserhead, at least outwardly. Todoroki drew in a deep breath.
"I'm…glad…that you're alright, Midoriya. When I cauterised your wound, I thought that- the way you screamed, I assumed that you wouldn't want to be near me. For a few weeks."
Izuku was…actually, Izuku was touched. That was surprisingly kind of Todoroki. Then again, depending on where he'd gotten that scar…but that was a question for when he knew the other boy a little better. Izuku shook his head.
"Todoroki, you saved my life. I…I won't tell you that it didn't hurt, but it hurt a lot less than getting my arm ripped off in the first place. I'm nothing but grateful to you."
Todoroki dipped his head, his eyes closing.
"You're welcome, Midoriya," he said quietly, "But if you'll excuse me, I have training to do."
Izuku leaned back, watching his classmate leave with a sense of lingering unease. He waited for almost five minutes before he sighed deeply, running his hand over his face. The metal was cold, but it had become strangely comforting now.
"Nothing's ever simple, is it?" he muttered to himself. He slid back to his feet, pulling his phone out of his pocket and checking his messages. The Oppressed Meta Command forum was buzzing with excitement, getting more and more hyped up as the Sports Festival approached. It sent more anger thrumming through Izuku than anything Todoroki could do. He would still work with them, but once he knew their names…he almost hoped that he would get the chance to confront them, rather than Pro Heroes doing it. It was petty, but he wanted to really drive home that they weren't superior, or better. He really wanted to drive home that a Quirkless person, someone they looked down on and considered inferior, was more than any of them could handle.
Reading between the lines, the OMC didn't have anyone with a powerful Quirk. They had three senior members, and Izuku was fairly confident that two of them had weak Emitter Quirks and the last had a Mutation. Izuku found it almost painfully ironic: they were fighting for an organisation that put so much emphasis on powerful Quirks, without powerful Quirks of their own. They were fighting to be second class citizens, even more obviously than they were now, but they refused to see it. So long as they could have someone to openly look down on, they would be happy. Somehow, it struck painfully hard for Izuku. Well, maybe it wasn't 'somehow'. He'd seen it before, hadn't he? All those people who had just been hanging around Kacchan, taking his harsh nature and the put-downs so long as they could laugh at Izuku, they were just the same. It was the same shit all over again, except instead of an isolated incident the OMC wanted to spread it to all of Japan.
Izuku would put bullets through every single one of them before he allowed that. Vigilante plan, version fourteen. The MLA returns, and the Red Hood rises to meet them. Death or victory, no compromise and Izuku shook himself violently, snapping himself out of it. No. Not now, and not today. He hopped to his feet and headed to the door, swinging his bag over his back with a slow, deep exhalation. He really needed to go and find his friends. At least they would distract him from his worries.
Izuku took the path he knew they would have taken, heading to the training field. He was almost there when he heard raised voices, simmering with anger, and paused. It could have been nothing, but then again…Izuku fastened his bag more securely onto his back and kept moving, his steps purposefully lighter. He stuck to the edge of the road on his way, under the trees, where he could blend into the dappled shadows. He rounded the last corner to find Mina standing almost nose to nose with a blonde boy who Izuku vaguely recognised- from Class 1-B, he thought. Kirishima was similarly glaring at another boy, with Tsuyu and most of 1-A lurking in the background. At least half of 1-B was present as well, although they looked more embarrassed than confrontational. Izuku crept along, consciously working to stay in the shadows as he made his way across. The blonde boy wasn't far away from the treeline, and everyone was distracted.
"Who the hell do you think you are, you creep?" Mina demanded, her pink skin flushed darker, almost purple, with anger. The blonde boy turned his nose up at her.
"Hmph, I see that class 1-A is as bloated in ego as I expected. Of course, no doubt you all think you're big-shots after you were so fortunate as to encounter villains already."
"Fortunate?" Mina snarled. Izuku saw her fists clench as he moved closer, eyes flicking between Mina and the blonde boy. The blonde nodded.
"Oh, yes. After all, Class 1-A already has exposure. I'm sure many heroes have already gotten the misplaced belief that your class is worthier of their attention, even though Class 1-B is undoubtedly superior. I'm sure you thought your time at the USJ was a fun excursion, didn't you? How typically arrogant of a Class 1-A member."
Mina brought a hand up, her finger pointing inches from his nose. Izuku saw the blonde's lip curl into a sneer.
"I nearly died, you asshole! The only reason I didn't get my face melted off was because my friend stuck his arm in front of me and lost it, so don't talk to me about fun!"
"If your 1-A friend is so incompetent that they were maimed the first time they face villains, then they shouldn't be a hero," the blonde replied, quick as a whip. Izuku, watching carefully and with a better angle, saw his expression waver for a moment. For just an instant his expression twisted with regret and shame, before it was smoothed over by the supercilious sneer. Izuku didn't spare a moment to think on it, breaking from cover and darting across the open space as Mina reared back and drew back her fist, fury curdling her expression. Her fist rammed into his open hand before skating off the edge of his shoulder as he pushed her punch aside, the shock of impact running down his arm, Mina twisting with the motion so that her shoulder bumped his before she stepped back, eyes wide. Izuku didn't let his expression waver, planting himself bodily between them and surreptitiously shaking his hand. It stung a little- acid, probably. Izuku splayed his prosthetic hand on the blonde's chest and shoved him hard back, opening space between them.
"And who are you?" the blonde asked. He was trying to resume his unruffled expression, but Izuku could read worry in his eyes. He'd overstepped his boundaries and he knew it. Izuku didn't need to look to know that 1-A had moved closer.
"I'm the guy you were just talking about," Izuku said, meeting the blonde's eyes, "And if this is the best 1-B has then I'm not impressed. Bringing up traumatic experiences intentionally? That sounds more like villain behaviour to me."
The blonde reared back as though he'd been struck. A member of 1-B was closing in from behind, a red-headed girl who was moving with definite purpose. Izuku sized up her movement, concluding that she wasn't looking for a fight, and dismissed her. Instead he turned slightly, tapping Mina on the arm.
"Come on, Mina. Leave him."
"Leave him? Midori, he-"
"I know, Mina. He's not worth it."
The blonde grabbed Izuku's arm- his right, he noticed.
"Hey. You're just leaving?"
Izuku glanced down at the fingers, seeing the way they crinkled his blazer sleeve.
"Yeah, they are. So let him go, Monoma."
The red-head had reached them and put a hand on Monoma's shoulder, pulling him back. Monoma grimaced.
"But-"
"No. I agreed to come here to see 1-A, not start a fight," she snapped. Monoma's expression turned into a pout, although Izuku noticed that there was that moment of indecision beforehand, as though he wasn't sure of himself.
"She started it!"
"And you didn't provoke her at all, right? I wasn't born yesterday, Monoma, so get out of here."
"Kendo-"
"Out. Now."
Monoma wilted, retreating to the rest of 1-B, and the redhead sighed and raked a hand across her face.
"I'm sorry, for whatever he said. He can be a bit…excessive."
"You don't say," Izuku murmured, still standing in front of Mina. He could hear the slight raggedness of her breathing, the anger in her inhalations. Better to prevent her from getting a clear shot.
"Izuku Midoriya," he offered, holding out his hand. If he held out his prosthetic, maybe he was a little petty. The redhead looked uncomfortable, but shook his hand. Obviously she would have preferred to shake his flesh hand, but he would have preferred her to intervene earlier. You didn't always get what you wanted, after all.
"Itsuka Kendo," she said, "Class 1-B President."
Oh. Great, a nominal authority figure. Where was Yaoyorozu when you needed her? Although, technically speaking, Tsuyu was…
"I don't think our Class President is here at the moment," Izuku said, "But our joint Vice Presidents are. You want to meet them?"
Kendo looked taken aback but his abruptness, but nodded.
"Er…sure."
"Great. Tsuyu!"
"Right here, Izuku," Tsuyu said from maybe two feet behind him. He chanced a glance back and saw that she was watching Kendo, her large eyes unblinking. He lowered his voice.
"You think you can handle the pleasantries?"
"Do my best, ribbit, and Iida will probably be pleased to as well."
Izuku nodded.
"Thanks, Tsuyu. Come on, Mina. You wanted to try out some new moves, right?"
Mina still looked furious, but allowed Izuku to shepherd her into the training ground. He glanced at her, sizing up how angry she was, and sighed.
"Give me a moment, Mina."
Izuku ducked into the changing rooms for a couple of minutes, emerging in his gym uniform to find Mina pacing, clearly building up a head of steam. Izuku took a deep breath.
"You okay there, Mina?"
Mina whirled with a guttural snarl, slamming her hand into one of the trees that grew close to the changing rooms. There was a hiss and an acrid smell, a handprint burning itself into the bark.
"Who the hell does that bastard think he is?" she demanded, "Coming up to us and talking like that? Who gives him the goddamn right to talk about us like that?"
Izuku watched her pace, mind whirling through ways to get her to calm down and actually talk it out. Somehow, he felt like that wasn't likely. Not until she'd burned off some of her furious energy. He rubbed thoughtfully at his nose. Mina was still pacing, still angry.
"How can you be so chill, Izuku?" she demanded, waving a hand at him- Izuku noticed that a few droplets of liquid splattered from her fingers and sizzled in the dirt. He didn't react to it- Quirks sometimes came out in times of high stress, right? Besides, he trusted Mina not to hurt him. Mina continued, not waiting for an answer.
"That smug prick just stood there, acting like he wouldn't have been frightened. Like it was a walk in the park, getting attacked by villains, seeing Shigaraki launch himself at my face, seeing my friend get his arm ripped off and bleeding all over the place!"
Izuku rummaged through his bag- he'd left it on the nearest bench when he went to get changed- and rummaged through, finding an empty water bottle.
"Mina," he called, tossing it to her. She snatched it out of the air, the angry furrow in her brow softening with confusion. He gestured to the dark spots on the ground.
"If you're going to melt something, might as well do it on purpose," he said. She looked down, blinking, and her skin darkened in embarrassment.
"Oh," she said, some of the anger gone from her tone, "Right."
She didn't melt the bottle, instead crumpling it in her hands, twisting and crushing it. Izuku saw her take a deep breath.
"Seriously, Midori," she said, "I don't get it. How can you stay so calm?"
Izuku rubbed at his collarbone, sighing again.
"I guess it's not any worse than stuff I've heard before, Mina. Besides…I was watching him when he was talking. He looked like he knew he was out of line. Just bravado."
"It's always 'just bravado'," Mina muttered, but some of the fire had gone out of her. She slumped onto the bench next to Izuku, her shoulders sagging.
"I hate bullies."
Izuku leaned back, into empty space, and waited. Mina leaned forwards, tangling her fingers in her hair, and huffed out a long breath.
"I hate bullies, Midori. Hate them. Always used to try and talk them around, at my old school, but sometimes I just wanted to…you know. I really thought U.A. would be better, since it's a Hero school. How can a bully be a Hero?"
Izuku thought of Endeavour, of his suspicions about Todoroki, and didn't comment on it. He did, however, come to the defence of U.A., no matter how lukewarm that defence was.
"It's a lot better than my old school," he said, "And I don't really think Monoma is a bully. He's just…I dunno. But I don't think he was genuinely trying to hurt anyone."
"That makes it worse," Mina muttered, scowling, "And there's these MLA guys, trying to bring it back. Might Makes Right, right? That's just bullying given a fancier name."
She clenched her fists briefly, before forcibly relaxing.
And you're just going to go and meet them, aren't you? Like there's no danger at all."
Izuku shrugged.
"I'm…not too worried about the guys I'll be meeting. They're kind of idiots, and they're no more dangerous than the thugs at the USJ."
Mina hung her head.
"Sure. I know. But I still…I'm still worried, you know?"
Izuku regarded her for a moment, taking in her body language and remembering the sudden spike in anger she'd shown when speaking to Monoma about the USJ. He wondered, briefly, if Mina was having nightmares about the USJ. Izuku himself hadn't had that many. Yes, there had been a few, but Jason's death still dominated the bad nights. Even that had slackened off with time, though. Maybe there was something wrong with him. But he really wasn't prepared to provide therapy. He'd probably damage more than he helped. The best he could do was keep an eye on her. Maybe he should rope Kirishima and Tsuyu into it, make sure to check up on Kaminari as well. But either way, better to distract her.
"Well, look at it this way," he said, "The Sports Festival is coming up soon. If you're lucky, you'll find yourself across an arena from Monoma, and you can take it all out on him. Even better, we've still got a couple of days before the Festival, so you can learn his Quirk."
Mina snorted quietly, her smile returning as she bounced back.
"Aren't you supposed to be telling me that violence isn't the answer?"
Izuku shrugged.
"Well," he said, pretending to consider it, "Violence might not be the answer. But if we don't try it, how can we tell?"
Mina laughed.
"Heh. Yeah, I guess that's true. Anyway…Kiri wanted to work on his reaction time for activating his Quirk, so I've got one of those parkour buildings and a bag full of tennis balls. Want to go throw balls at- I mean, help Kiri train?"
Izuku smiled.
"Sounds like fun, Mina."
Five days until the Sports Festival.
"Alright," Aizawa said, on the morning of the Festival, "You know what you're doing, Midoriya?"
Izuku nodded.
"Meet up with the three OMC members who're sneaking in. Talk to them long enough for Nedzu's wire to pick up data- about ten minutes- and attach a bug to one of them if I can."
Aizawa nodded. He looked exhausted- not physically, but he clearly wasn't happy about something.
"Yeah. So, I've been hauled into commentating with Mic, and Midnight is referee. But Snipe and Vlad King are going to be ready to head in if you need them, and Ectoplasm won't be far behind. You get into danger hit the panic button and I'll break off commentating to pull you out."
Izuku nodded. He'd heard all of this before, but it was nice to have it repeated. In fact, it was pretty good to know that he had backup. Jason had often done this sort of thing alone, especially when he was on the outs with the rest of the Bat Family, and while shooting his way out had always been an option for the Red Hood knowing you had backup ready was a uniquely pleasant comfort. He'd made sure that he was barely recognisable- as far as most of his class knew he'd been given some work to do by Aizawa and would be in the crowd. The proper make-up to hide his freckles and slightly alter the contours of his face, hair-dye and gel to turn his green-black curls into auburn spikes, contact lenses to turn green eyes to brown and spectacles to go over them…Izuku wasn't sure he'd recognise himself. If the way Snipe did a double-take when he walked in was any indicator it was working pretty well. He'd also needed an excuse to not be in the Sports Festival, of course, but he'd gotten that via a fake cast to cover his wrist. Pretending a broken wrist wouldn't be too hard, and it even gave him a place to hide the bugs he was supposed to plant.
"Well, well pardner. You're lookin' like a whole other kiddo," Snipe drawled. Izuku smiled at him, more restrained than normal.
"Thank you, Mr Snipe," he replied. It was the little things- a slightly shifted accent, faint changes to inflection, small alterations that made him sound like another person. Snipe tilted his head.
"Aizawa, I gotta say- what in tarnation have you done to this boy?"
"Believe it or not he came like this," Aizawa dryly responded, "Right, Mido- eh. Better start using your false name, huh? Alright, Akatani. You ready for this?"
Izuku still didn't understand why Nedzu had picked that particular name for him, but he was honestly too afraid to ask. Instead he nodded.
"Of course, Mr Aizawa."
Aizawa nodded.
"Good luck, kid," he muttered, sweeping out of the room. Snipe watched him go before his gas-mask turned back to Izuku.
"He ain't happy 'bout this at all, pardner. Not happy at all. He'd probably take your place if he could. You know the names of these jokers?"
Izuku nodded.
"First names only, you know? They gotta be careful, just in case someone's watching. Don't know why anyone would wanna watch them, they aren't doing anything wrong."
Snipe nodded at him.
"Stayin' in character, huh? Good practice. An' it makes sense, using only first names, they're harder to track while givin' any new folks a sense of acceptance and closeness. So, what do they call 'em?"
"The guy who's the boss, they call him Jinsaku," Izuku said. He hesitated for a moment and then broke character.
"I'm fairly sure he's got an emitter type Quirk. Very minor telekinesis, like my Mom. The others, one is called Sumaho, he has a Quirk that affects water. And the third is American, actually- her name is Mara. She's got a mutation Quirk, I know that much."
"Hmm," Snipe murmured, tilting his hat down, "Those Quirks ain't exactly cream of the crop, are they? Can't underestimate people, of course, but it's pretty typical for neo-MLA cells. The Hand of Destro had a whole bunch of people with unimpressive Quirks, used 'em like cannon-fodder. But, when you're fishin', you don't throw away minnows on the off-chance of catching a shark, right?"
"Right," Izuku agreed, after taking a moment to puzzle through the metaphor. Snipe tapped him on the shoulder with two fingers, nodding.
"C'mon then, kiddo. We got ourselves some minnows to catch."
Izuku slipped the fake plaster cast over his wrist, shifting his arm as it settled into place. Snipe took a moment to look him over and nodded.
"Alright, kiddo. You're lookin' good- now get out there."
They split up, Snipe heading towards the teachers box while Izuku quickly made his way out of the arena. There was a small group of stalls set up outside, selling various pieces of hero merchandise and food, and Izuku mingled with the crowd as he made his way towards the protest that was being held. Several Heroes were present, watching the protest- Izuku wondered if any of them were being convinced by the chanting group.
He looked around, noticing Mount Lady fluttering her eyelashes at some vendor, and homed in on a tall woman whose patterned skin and reptilian eyes marked her as having a very distinct mutation Quirk. If he remembered correctly, Mara had a Crocodilian Quirk, and there were two men standing with her. Even better, they were looking around as though trying to find someone. Izuku smiled to himself, heading over to them. The woman noticed him first, waving enthusiastically.
"Hey! Hey there! Are you Mikumo?"
Izuku had given them his name once Nedzu had come up with it, but it was still jarring to hear it. He nodded enthusiastically.
"That's me! Are you Mara?"
The woman beamed. Izuku almost felt guilty for what he was doing. Almost, because frankly he had seen before how quickly people could turn.
"That's me, I'm Mara Bennet. This is Jinsaku Usami and Sumaho Oyama."
Oyama was a tall, handsome man with a neatly trimmed goatee and slicked back blonde hair- probably dyed. His dark eyes gleamed with warmth as he clapped Izuku on the shoulder. Usami was shorter, slighter, with a receding head of dark hair and eyes that were crinkled with laughter lines, a few years older. He was the leader, Izuku thought, or what passed for one.
"Mikumo," he said, his voice rich and deep, "It's so good to see you. I would have thought you would be participating in the Festival."
Izuku held up his fake cast, feigning embarrassment.
"I fell down some stairs yesterday," he said, "And Recovery Girl isn't really available near to the Festival, so she can keep her strength up for today. I'm glad though! I thought I would have to come and find you after the first event."
"Oh, you didn't think you'd make it through the first event?" Bennet asked, sounding concerned. Izuku shook his head.
"Not with all the Hero Students around. They've all got such good Quirks, you know? Except for one of them…"
Much of the warmth went out of Usami's face, and Oyama's eyes became noticeably colder.
"Yes. The Quirkless. Do you know who it is?"
Izuku repressed the urge to punch Usami in the throat at the phrase 'the Quirkless' and shook his head.
"I don't know, sorry. He's in Class 1-A I think, but they don't socialise with us dregs down in General Education."
Just the right amount of bitterness to season his tone, a touch of scorn and spite. Be the underdog, draw sympathy. Bennet clucked her tongue and patted him on the shoulder again.
"I'm sorry to hear that, dear. I would have expected better of U.A., they're so famous, but I suppose it happens everywhere."
She sounded sincere, too. Izuku made a mental note of that as he shrugged. Usami peered more closely at him, probably noting his prosthetic arm.
"You know, Mikumo, you haven't told us much about your Quirk," he mentioned, "What does it do?"
Ah. This, Izuku had practiced. He also had a powerful painkiller in a water-proof casing tucked into his cheek- as soon as he thought he'd need it he'd swallow. It would take maybe a minute to take effect once it hit his stomach, not ideal but good enough. But he didn't think Usami was about to stub out a cigarette on his arm or something, to try to find proof.
"Oh, it lets me turn off my pain receptors," he said, trying to put the right amount of cheer and mild self-deprecation into his voice, "It's not that strong and I have to be careful. When I was little I turned it on and I didn't even notice I'd hurt my arm until, well, you know."
He held up his prosthetic, not bothering to hide the skeletal arm. The three OMC members grimaced sympathetically and Bennet patted his shoulder again. Izuku gave her his best sad smile. At least he wasn't crying.
"It doesn't really slow me down, though! I mean, I still have all my limbs, with my prosthetic."
"And a Quirk, that's better than the Quirkless in 1-A has," Oyama added. Izuku had already pinned him as the most anti-Quirkless of the group, not that it really mattered. Instead he nodded enthusiastically.
"I know! I don't know how he got through the Entrance Exam when I couldn't, it must have been pity or something."
Christ Almighty, he was going to need two or three showers when this was over. Either that or the catharsis of a great deal of violence, but he was smart enough to know which was more likely. Usami put a fatherly hand on his shoulder.
"Well, Mikumo, why don't we go and watch the Festival? Perhaps we'll get to see what got the Quirkless into the Hero Course in the first place."
Izuku tagged along as they walked, making small talk- what his classes were learning, the people in his class, the lives of the three OMC members. They seemed very normal, in a lot of ways- Oyama was an office worker, in a tech support company. Usami was an accountant in a large firm and Bennet a bank teller. They were very normal, given that they might be revolutionaries against the government, but Izuku supposed that was to their advantage. Harder to find them in the greater population, although no doubt Nedzu would be able to track them down now that they had full names. Izuku hung back just a step, observing them and wondering who he should attach a bug to. The bugs he'd been given were small, thin things, a dull grey, that would stick to just about anything. Oyama wore a long coat with a high collar, that might be a good place to put one. But Izuku had time before he had to make a choice.
"I wonder if there'll be any upsets this year," Bennet said, cheerfully animated, "Maybe there'll be someone from General Education who makes it into the final rounds! That's always fun to see!"
"It's a demonstration of the nonsense Exams," Oyama said arrogantly, "If they have a strong enough Quirk to reach the final rounds, they should be in the Hero Course to begin with. Hey, Mikumo, you know anyone who might manage that?"
Izuku looked up and frowned, purposefully acting like he was thinking and doing his best to avoid his normal habits. The answer, of course, was obvious.
"There's a boy in one of the other General Studies classes," he said, "I heard that he declared war on class 1-A. He's really going for a transfer, and I think he's got a strong Quirk even though he hasn't said anything about it. He's keeping his cards close to his chest, you know?"
"Oh?" Usami said, sounding amused, "That'll be interesting. All the Hero brats finding some competition from outside their ranks?"
They made their way to the stands, taking seats. Izuku made sure that he was on the outside, in case he needed to get out of there, and perched himself on the hard plastic. He kept half an ear on Present Mic as he loudly hyped up Izuku's classmates, class 1-A emerging onto the field to deafening roars and cheers from the audience. Izuku wondered what it was like, down there on the grass. Intimidating, probably.
"Hey," Bennet said, "You notice that there's only nineteen kids down there? Aren't there twenty in the Hero Classes?"
Usami leaned forwards, suddenly laughing.
"Yeah. Yeah, someone's missing from 1-A. Anyone want to guess who?"
"Probably the Quirkless, right?" Oyama loudly said- one of the nearby people gave him a dirty look but didn't say anything. Oyama laughed obnoxiously.
"He's probably too frightened to come out, where everybody can see he's a fraud!"
Izuku very carefully didn't clench his fist, instead contenting himself with a daydream of driving Oyama's perfectly white teeth down his throat with the heel of his boot. Class 1-B followed 1-A onto the pitch and yeah, Izuku could see why Monoma had a bit of a complex going on. The cheers weren't nearly as loud, the introduction not nearly as effusive. Izuku understood that 1-B hadn't been involved in a villain attack and didn't have the same qualifications, but it was getting rubbed in pretty harshly. No wonder they were angry about it.
"I hear there's a kid in 1-A who can make explosions from his hands," Usami said, leaning over to Izuku, "Is it true?"
Izuku nodded.
"Yeah, his name is Bakugo," he said in return- he didn't feel any guilt over naming Bakugo, Mic would be doing the same pretty soon unless something went drastically wrong for Kacchan- "He's got a pretty bad attitude. I heard that he almost started a fight with the students who went to look at 1-A after the villain attack at the USJ, said they were all weaklings!"
Izuku saw the avaricious gleam in Usami's eyes and revised his earlier estimate. The OMC wasn't exactly the model of a subtle criminal group, but that didn't entirely make them stupid. Usami, especially, had ambition. That sort of thing was dangerous.
Izuku caught himself as he began mentally mapping out rooftops that he could drop Usami off while feasibly pretending innocence. Not now. Maybe later, if he had to turn to vigilantism, but not now.
"Good, good," Usami said, "Someone with that sort of power should be respected! Just like the Quirkless should know their place, right Mikumo?"
Izuku nodded sharply, keeping his smile in place.
"Yeah!"
The other classes were on the field now, looking considerably less enthusiastic than the Hero classes. Izuku peered down- their seats were high enough up that it was difficult- and saw the lanky figure of Hitoshi Shinsou standing alone, his mess of purple hair standing out in the crowd. He admired that sort of dedication, in a lot of ways, but also worried about him. If Shinsou was so determined to be a hero that he drove everyone away to accomplish it, what would he become? Just another burned-out victim on the altar of selflessness. Izuku shook away the thoughts as the classes formed a rough phalanx in front of a raised platform and Present Mic announced the referee for the year.
"Midnight?" Izuku whispered, watching her. Midnight, R-Rated Heroine, Art Teacher, posed dramatically on the stage. Izuku could hear frantic whispering around him as the men in the audience almost audibly drooled over her and barely suppressed a sigh. He had serious questions about anyone who was willing to express their attraction so crudely- and he had a class with Mineta, so he knew how crude that could get.
"Alright," Midnight purred, she must have been wearing a microphone attached to her costume for her sultry tones to carry so well around the arena, "To give this years student pledge…Katsuki Bakugo, from class 1-A!"
Kacchan was giving the pledge? Dear God. Normally, of course, it was very staid…try your best, may the best person win, that sort of thing. What was Bakugo likely to say? 'Beat me if you can, losers,'? On second thought, this could be fairly amusing, especially if Bakugo drew enough attention to get dog-piled and knocked out early. Could be embarrassing for Izuku after he'd told Usami that Kacchan was powerful, but he could live with that. Kacchan stalked through the crowd of students, climbing up to the platform with a flat expression on his face. The enormous TV screens placed around the arena to give a better view of the action caught his expression nicely.
"I pledge," he said, flat gaze raking over the crowd, "That I'm going to win. Try to give me a challenge, will you?"
The students went berserk, booing and jeering. Utterly unphased, Bakugo strode off the platform and back towards them, and Oyama hooted.
"Woo-oo! That's the spirit, kid, you tell 'em!"
"He's definitely confident," Usami mused. Izuku chanced a glance at him and saw the glittering greed in his eyes. Definitely looking to add Bakugo to his little crew. Izuku was almost surprised by the flare of rage he felt at the thought, but maybe not. After all, while Izuku didn't like Bakugo he liked the thought of someone his age being manipulated like that even less. He looked up to see the screen flicker and turn, a rolling wheel visual spinning until it landed on the first event. Izuku wasn't even remotely inclined to think that it was genuinely luck-based, rather than rigged.
"First event," Midnight called, a grin on her face, "The obstacle race!"
She licked her lips in a way that couldn't be anything but calculated.
"And so long as you stay on the course, anything is permitted!"
Given how riled up the students were, Izuku wondered if there might actually be a murder. He slipped his right hand into his cast while everyone was distracted, only paying the slightest bit of attention to the rest of Midnight's instructions as he palmed one of the tiny bugs and leaned down, as though tying his shoes. Usami had taken his jacket off and let it rest on the back of his seat, and it was the work of a moment to press the bug into the hem of the jacket, where it would be hidden. Even if it wasn't, they mostly just looked like clumps of dirt, but Izuku didn't want to take any chances. He straightened up again as the students crammed themselves into starting positions and Bennet leaned over to him.
"Who do you think'll win?" she asked, her slitted eyes crinkling with good cheer. Izuku beamed back at her.
"I think it'll be either Bakugo or the other 1-A boy, Todoroki!"
"Todoroki? Isn't that some big-shot Hero?"
Oyama pumped a fist in the air.
"Yeah! It's the name of the Flame Hero, Endeavour!"
No matter how often Izuku heard it, he didn't think he could get used to actual identities of Heroes being public. It just rubbed every part of him that was still Jason raw, the understanding that it was a gaping vulnerability. Any villain who wanted to could exploit that vulnerability, all it would take was a little effort to look it up. And it wasn't as though it would even be hard, especially with U.A.: after all, Quirks were distinctive. And the Sports Festival was free with names, especially in the later rounds. Not for the first time, Izuku was grateful that he wasn't participating. Having his Quirklessness likely outed to the whole world like that wasn't his preferred choice at all.
"So Mikumo," Usami said, leaning across- his eyes were still fixed on the racing below, but most of his attention was on Izuku. Izuku made his eyes wide behind the fake spectacles.
"Yes, Usami?"
"You…believe, don't you? You understand that all those laws about Quirk use are holding us back, that they're preventing us from being great. You understand that we need to get rid of them? That if Japan is to take its rightful place in the world, we need to free ourselves from the shackles of centuries past?"
Oh good, a nationalist as well. Also God, this man was flowery. Izuku met Usami's eyes as the man turned to him, thought of Uraraka and Yaoyorozu and how much their lives might change if Quirk laws were relaxed and set his jaw, nodding.
"I believe," he said, lying directly to Usami's face, looking him in the eye, tone thick with determination. Usami nodded, a smile creeping over his features. Izuku mentally added another shower to the tally that he'd need to take.
"Good," Usami said, sounding relieved, "I'm so pleased. Some people, they don't understand that we can't play nicely. Progress requires sacrifice, in the end. Even Mara doesn't really understand it, but you…I think you do, Mikumo."
Izuku was up to six showers needed- although that was an interesting titbit, about Bennet. He leaned in, trying to put fervour into his eyes and voice.
"Of course I do, Mr Usami. I've known it all my life, I just didn't realise it until some Quirkless took a place in the Hero course that could have been mine."
Izuku wished he was old enough to drink. Usami smirked crookedly.
"Of course you do, my boy. Of course you do. This Quirkless took your place, didn't he? He couldn't accept that he's a relic of ages past, a primitive at best. But he could stay that way like anyone with decency, using the pity of his betters to worm himself into a higher place!"
God. One bullet, that was all Izuku asked. One bullet, and a dark night in an alleyway, and a pair of steel-toed boots. Then Usami could see how primitive Izuku was. He kept the thoughts off his face with an effort as Usami glanced back over to the field, a thoughtful look crossing his expression.
"Oh, it looks as though your prediction was right, Mikumo. The Todoroki boy and Bakugo are having quite the fierce battle for first place."
Izuku took a look- he suspected that Todoroki would take it. Bakugo was fast, blasting along with torrents of explosions from his hands, but that sort of thing had to take a toll on him and it occupied his whole Quirk. Todoroki had more options and was using less energy, at least presumably. Usami turned back to Izuku, lowering his voice.
"You see, my boy, I wanted to speak to you and judge you for myself. And I like what I see, I certainly do. Our organisation, it's hard to really reach out to people, you know? But I'm sure that your classmates feel the same as you, in some ways. Of course they will. After all, how many of them have Quirks that could be useful for society that they can't use without being a Hero? And how many of them have been robbed of a place in Heroism?"
None of them, Izuku sourly thought, because they'd all had the same chance and they were getting another one here. More than that, anyone with sense applied for more than one Hero school. He briefly wondered if Shinsou had done that, or if he'd been so set on U.A. that he'd taken the Hero Exam with the intent to gain a place through the Sports Festival if he failed.
"I wouldn't want to ask too much of you," Usami continued, "But if you could speak to your classmates, when you have the chance, and maybe introduce them to us? We've had some…ah, maybe I shouldn't tell you yet. But you'll see, soon enough. Soon enough. For the moment, let's see who wins this race, yeah?"
Oh, Izuku was just burning with curiosity. Or maybe it was rage. Izuku liked to think that he could tell the difference, but he'd been wrong before- but Nedzu and Aizawa would have a field day with all that Usami had admitted. There it was, all caught on the tiny camera installed in the side of his spectacles, in full colour and sound. Given that the thought soothed the fire licking along his veins and gnawing at his chest Izuku guessed it was anger, not curiosity. That was interesting, he supposed.
Down on the obstacle course, Kacchan and Todoroki were fighting for first place. Izuku took a moment to look over the course itself- many of the participants were still trapped at the start, held down by a thick sheet of ice, and even more were stuck at the second obstacle. Izuku raised an eyebrow at the mass of robots lying broken, wondering how safe they would be to parkour across. And then the tightropes, of course, where Hatsume was still terrifying everyone near to her with maniacal cackling. Izuku wondered if Power Loader had managed to find and confiscate her stash of caffeine pills, in the end. And then there was the final obstacle, the…minefield.
"A minefield?" Izuku whispered, just a fraction above a breath. Okay. There was definitely something wrong with U.A., even if the mines were, supposedly, not dangerous. Bakugo and Todoroki were in the lead, slapping at each other like angry toddlers because apparently Bakugo had just forgotten that he could fly over and detonate the mines around Todoroki to slow him down. Pretty ironic, actually- Bakugo was very possibly about to torpedo his chances at victory to soothe his own ego. Then again, with the rest of the competitors catching up…
Todoroki glanced behind him, just long enough to see Iida and Yaoyorozu closing quickly and reacted immediately, although Izuku personally thought that Hatsume might be a wildcard here. She had only just started onto the minefield, but if her Hover Boots didn't activate the mines... Todoroki shoved Bakugo hard, pushing him into a mine, and started to sprint, ice spreading under his feet. Izuku watched with interest- it would give him time to pass at the cost of clearing a path behind. Bakugo shrieked in anger- Izuku could see the way his mouth opened on the cameras- and took flight, blasting into the air. It was going to be close, Todoroki had a head start but Bakugo was faster. Almost despite himself Izuku leaned forwards, watching as they dashed for the end of the line, but he saw Bakugo stop firing explosions from both hands and ride his momentum, rolling over in mid-air and putting both hands together.
The blast set off half a dozen mines from proximity alone and it sent Kacchan skidding along the ground when he landed, but Izuku knew he wouldn't care: he was across the line, and victorious.
"First Place!" Present Mic howled, "Katsuki Bakugo, Class 1-A!"
Well, at least Bakugo was living up to the pledge he'd given at the very start. The stadium roared approval as Bakugo rose to his feet, slapping at the bloody graze along his left arm and giving Todoroki a sharply mocking grin. Izuku wondered if he was seeing the birth of some twisted friendship. Probably not, but there was always a chance.
"That was a rush!" Oyama hollered, slinging an arm around Izuku's shoulders and pulling him into a rough half-hug. Izuku went with it, making a token protest as he dipped his fingers into his cast and attached a bug to the inside lining of Oyama's long coat. Oyama let him go and leapt to his feet, whooping and hollering and Usami leaned over to him.
"Hey, Mikumo. I've got to go and meet someone here. You want to come along? We'll miss the second round, but it'll be worth it."
Izuku made a show of looking intrigued but reluctant before nodding. Nedzu would want him to go, of course, but he was personally curious. Who could they be meeting? Then again, it could well be a backer for the cell. Oyama half-turned.
"You ain't staying, Jin?"
"Gotta go talk to someone, Sumaho. Save our seats, right?"
"You got it, man!"
The two of them quickly left the stands, walking through. Izuku followed Usami quietly, eyes roving across the man as he catalogued weaknesses and vulnerabilities, just in case. They went down, through the stands and out again, into the stalls. Usami was checking his phone frequently, probably looking for directions as they walked through the crowd. They paused to look across, to where the protest was dying down- Izuku could just about see the gates in the distance, with a crowd of reporters still outside.
"Ah," Usami said, "Here we are."
He led Izuku into a pitched stall, ducking through the entrance and rubbing his hands together in a nervous gesture. Izuku narrowed his eyes, reminding himself of the presence of the panic button inside his fake cast as he followed. The inside of the stall was crammed with press accoutrements- papers on folding tables, several cameras, notebooks and laptops and a single person. She beamed and waved as they entered.
"Hey there!"
Izuku didn't recognise her at all, although she had a press identity badge hanging around her neck. She had blue skin and lilac hair, and her eyes reminded Izuku of Mina's, with bright green irises amid pitch black sclera. Usami seemed embarrassed.
"Hello, Miss. Um…"
"Oh! Chitose, that's my name. You're Usami, right? And who's this cutie?"
And here Izuku was, undercover, drawing the attention of a paparazzi member. Of course he was, because nothing could ever be simple. At least his disguise had presumably held up, given that Chitose didn't seem to recognise him as she leaned down. Izuku drew in a breath to avoid sneezing on the smell of her perfume, her bright grin almost blinding. He briefly considered trying to slip a bug onto the fur collar of the jacket she was wearing, but decided against it. Too risky. Instead he tucked his cast against his body, folding his prosthetic over his wrist, and offered a smile.
"I'm Mikumo Akatani, Miss!"
"Oh," she said, her voice cheerful, "You're the kid from General Studies, right? I've already heard plenty about you!"
Izuku sincerely hoped that wasn't true, given that Mikumo Akatani had only the slightest backstory. Maybe Nedzu had thrown something together, but it wasn't exactly airtight simply because anyone who talked to a General Studies member would find that he didn't attend class. Chitose planted a hand on her chin, her fingers framing her mouth.
"Mm…a member of General Studies, robbed of his place on the Hero Course by cruel twists of fate? And now, denied a chance in the Sports Festival by a broken wrist? The headlines write themselves!"
Well, at least it wasn't as bad as the outright anti-Quirkless Oyama. Chitose leaned forwards and took both of Izuku's hands in hers, still smiling directly at him. Izuku wondered how many people had been taken in by that warm, friendly smile and genuinely interested gaze.
"Oh, you'll do great, Mikumo. So great. Are you interested in going into journalism? The people need to know, after all, and Heroes don't tell their stories themselves!"
Izuku shrugged.
"I don't know, Miss Chitose," he replied. Chitose put her hands to her cheeks, gasping.
"Such a polite boy! So nice of you to bring him here, Usami. I'm so glad you came here on time, too, I always like to know that people can be trusted to be punctual. Especially when I'm looking for more staff!"
Alright, this one was smarter. Talking around the subject, not through it, although Izuku saw her hand something to Usami as she turned.
"Here we go," she said, "Be sure to look through that! We're very eager to make sure that we hire only the best at Shoowaysha Publishing, so there's more than one step to getting a foot in the door! But you're doing well, Usami, really well, so I'm sure I'll speak to you again later. And it was a delight to meet you, Mikumo, I hope we can talk again soon. Now, I've got a Sports Festival to report on, so I'd better make sure that I look my best for the camera!"
Chitose ushered them out of the stall, politely enthusiastic but clearly not taking no for an answer, and Izuku and Usami paused for a moment to catch their breath before returning to the stands.
"Wow," Usami whispered, his eyes bright with hero worship, "Miss Chitose is so impressive. I hope I can be like her one day."
"I didn't know you wanted to be a journalist," Izuku ventured. Usami looked at him, his expression briefly baffled before his brain clearly caught up.
"Oh, yes! Yes, I hadn't really thought of it before, but I met Miss Chitose online and she really opened my eyes. After all, you can't get your message out without some sort of press being involved!"
Izuku nodded seriously, pretending that he believed what Usami was telling him.
"Oh…I hadn't thought of that," he said. Usami smiled in a fatherly way and laid a hand on his shoulders. Izuku suppressed the urge to break every individual bone in his hand as he squeezed down, in a manner that was clearly supposed to be friendly.
"Well, Mikumo, you're young yet! Stick with us, kid, and we'll make great changes for everyone!"
Well, Izuku dryly reflected, there was nothing ominous about that, was there?
Genuinely wasn't sure if I should put Chitose in, in the end, but decided for it on the basis that someone from the actual MLA would have to meet these cells somewhere along the line. Rest of the Sports Festival will be next chapter- and if anyone is wondering why Izuku didn't try to get a bug on Chitose, it's because he looked at her and went 'she looks more competent than the rest, I don't want to risk her finding it'.
Also, something I realised while writing this- if I wanted an easy way to avoid the Stain thing because, for example, I think his arc could have been longer and he could have had more use made of him, it would be easy to just say that he didn't meet Iida. In fact, the odds are probably massively in favour of that happening, given the size of the city. That said, it feels narratively cheap to do that, so...it probably won't happen. We'll see where that arc goes. Either way, I hope you enjoyed, reviews are always appreciated, and I'll see you in the next chapter.