Izuku swam back to consciousness slowly, carefully, his mind still foggy. He lay still, not opening his eyes, the steady beat of his heart filling his ears despite the fuzziness that seemed to fill his head.

Everything ached.

Sedative, said a little voice in his brain that sometimes sounded far too much like Bruce for his liking, you've been drugged. Where are you now? Are you safe? Are you among allies?

Izuku didn't know. He tried to marshal his memories but they were like sand, slipping through his fingers. He remembered…Chronostasis. He remembered the blood, the pain, the flash of satisfaction. Eri. He'd…jumped. Izuku slowly moved his fingers, each one responding, the muffled sensation of his prosthetic clumsier than ever. A slow shift of his flesh arm, finding no bonds, and Izuku cracked his eyelids open, just a fraction. Even that was a painful effort.

White. White roof. White walls. White curtains, light streaming through them and stinging his eyes – a hospital. Why were they always white, Izuku wondered. Was it really a soothing colour? He didn't think so, but he wasn't an expert on colour theory. He closed his eyes, still not moving as he assessed his condition, trying to work out which pain was from genuine damage and which was just bruises.

His ribs hurt the most, he thought wearily. Recovery Girl would probably have something to say about that, when she next saw him, but really. It wasn't his fault that people kept hitting him in the ribs. It was why his armour was reinforced around his torso, he couldn't do more than that. A creak, a door opening, and a pair of footsteps. Izuku didn't move, his breathing steady, just in case. Paranoia, maybe. Sensible, likely.

"Christ, Midoriya," Aizawa said, his voice gravelled with tiredness, "You're a trouble magnet, kid. It was supposed to be an easy infiltration."

"Didn't know those existed," said a second man, just as quietly. Edgeshot, maybe. Izuku wondered how they knew each other. Aizawa made a mirthless sound.

"The OMC weren't exactly top of the line criminals," he said, "They were supposed to be the only ones there. How those incompetents managed to get Overhaul after them…well, I know how."

"The kid? The girl, I mean?"

"Yeah," Aizawa muttered, "Ran into her in Overhaul's base. And now look at it."

"They both got out," Edgeshot said, "You should be proud of the kid. And who knows, maybe someone'll snatch up Overhaul. His building was on fire, and the Underground Heroes you called in are all over the place. If we're lucky Iwao'll get his hands on him and Overhaul won't be a problem anymore."

"Don't wish that on us," Aizawa grumbled, "Overhaul's too dangerous."

"Ominous," Edgeshot muttered, "I know you can't tell me everything, Eraser. Been a while since I was Underground, but I remember. I'm not stupid. Everything's getting more dangerous, villains and villain groups that All Might would have dealt with in a flash before are crawling out of the woodwork. It's gonna get ugly, and I don't know if we're ready for it."

Aizawa made a noise, half protest and half agreement. Edgeshot definitely knew him, because he didn't react beyond a faint sigh.

"Yeah, I know, you're good at what you do," he said, "But I've heard stories of what it was like, before All Might. It's been decades, people forget, but if even half of the rumours are true…it'll be a bloodbath, once All Might retires."

"Nobody's said All Might's retiring," Aizawa said. Izuku couldn't tell with his eyes closed, but he guessed that Edgeshot had given Aizawa a look.

"You don't cut down on street time and start working at a school because you're in the prime of your life," he said, "His street time was dropping anyway. He's still been flashy enough that it's hard to tell, but for someone paying attention…who's going to take over, if All Might retires? Endeavour? Hell of a hero, but he's not All Might."

"If we're only accepting people who are All Might's calibre as Number One candidates," Aizawa said, "We're fresh out of options. Maybe Stars and Stripes, from America, but otherwise?"

Edgeshot snorted faintly.

"Yeah, that's not what I mean. What I mean is, we won't have someone who can leap tall buildings in a single bound, solve all our problems faster than a speeding train. We'll need everyone else to step up – not you, you do plenty already. But it'd be good to get more cooperation between the different Agencies, solidify the working relationships between the Underground and the more daylight Heroes. You're the closest thing we have to an Underground spokesman, especially since you're close with Nedzu…"

Aizawa made a disgusted noise and Izuku made the choice to get his teacher out of the situation, something he accomplished by groaning and stirring like he'd just woken up. Edgeshot took a quick breath in.

"I'll get Recovery Girl," he said, quiet footsteps quickly receding. Izuku opened his eyes, blinking again against the harsh hospital light as a dark figure leaned over him, Aizawa blocking out some of the light. He looked even worse than usual, taking his normal unshaven and exhausted look to new heights, his eyes thickly bloodshot and his normal stubble thickened. Izuku felt an unexpected pang of guilt – Aizawa must have been searching for him – but hid it by blinking blearily up at his teacher.

"Sir," he said, his voice croaking painfully from his bruised throat. Aizawa hissed through his teeth, patting through a pocket and producing a tiny flashlight. Izuku didn't much appreciate having it shone into his eyes, but his head didn't hurt in the way a concussion might. A minor miracle really, given the beating he'd taken, but he wasn't going to complain.

"No concussion," Aizawa muttered, confirming Izuku's thoughts. For a moment his fingers fluttered, as though he was going to prod at Izuku – probably his neck, given the bruises that were almost certainly blossoming richly there – but he shook his head.

"Sorry, Midoriya," he muttered, "Recovery Girl would have my head if I tried any first-aid."

"So you can learn," Recovery Girl sniped as she stalked in, Edgeshot following behind like a chastened teen, "I was beginning to wonder."

Aizawa stepped back and away, a grimace flashing across his face as Recovery Girl crossed to Izuku's bedside, clucking her tongue. She reached down, papery fingers taking his chin in a surprisingly strong grip and lifting, exposing his neck. Izuku fought down the urge to rip himself away and lash out, grimly choking down what was probably a leftover of Jason. He heard Edgeshot draw in a breath and Aizawa stepped closer again. There was a look of fury in his eyes.

"Hmm," Recovery Girl said softly. A finger prodded at his neck and Izuku swallowed what was either a curse or a yelp, he wasn't sure. Recovery Girl glanced up at his face, shaking her head slightly.

"So macho," she murmured, her voice steady but somehow brittle, "Little Eri said, but to see it…for the uninitiated, those bruises are the signs of attempted strangulation. Male. Fairly large hands, so a reasonably large man…probably larger than either of you."

"I don't know if I'd call those bruises attempted," Edgeshot said, the attempt at levity ruined by the coldness in his voice. Aizawa's expression hadn't changed, but there was black murder in his gaze. Izuku wondered if the man had the same hang-ups about killing as Bruce – or, maybe, similar. Bruce's hang-up had been particular to Bruce himself, psychological in nature rather than moral. Bruce hadn't been an angel: he'd been afraid. Afraid of himself. Perhaps, in the end, one of his most serious flaws.

"Attempted, in the sense that Mr Midoriya remains among the living," Recovery Girl said, chiding. She peered more closely at the bruises before she let go, letting Izuku dip his chin again. A look of sympathy crossed her face.

"Is it painful, dear? I didn't want to give you any painkillers until the sedatives in your system wore off, who knows what they were."

Izuku nodded slowly.

"Can manage," he said hoarsely, pausing to swallow painfully, "Sedatives. Small dose. For Eri."

"Yes," Recovery Girl said, so softly that Izuku almost missed the flicker of anger in her own tone, a deep wrath at injustice that still burned within her, "I had suspected. Not quite enough to put you down without your prior injuries. To use sedatives on such a small child…"

She shook her head, fingers poking at Izuku. He mostly lay still, gritting his teeth to keep back more than a hiss of pain as she probed his ribs and prosthetic, humming in sympathy. Aizawa leaned against the wall with arms folded, a scowl having taken up residence on his brow, while Edgeshot stood near to the door, eyes roving around the room. Izuku wondered why he was still there – protection detail or just curiosity. Eventually Recovery Girl ceased her torture and Izuku breathed a sigh of relief.

"Well," she said, "Your ribs seem mostly intact, for a miracle. Just bruises and a few cracks, a minor injury from some sort of dart. The worst is probably your throat and your left shoulder."

Izuku somehow managed to avoid saying "Yeah, I noticed", but it was a close-run thing. From the look Recovery Girl gave him, he suspected that she could guess. She sighed.

"Yes, yes I'll heal you," she said, "You're rested enough, I think. But bear with me, dear, because I like people to know what I'm dealing with. And I need to document the injuries, admittedly."

Izuku lay placidly still, recognising that attempting to fight would be a mistake. Recovery Girl patted him gently on the arm – his right arm, he noticed. Aizawa had shifted and pulled out a notepad, Recovery Girl producing a small camera.

"Lift your chin, dear," she requested. Izuku obliged, the flash of the camera brief against his skin.

"Bruises to the neck consistent with strangulation," Recovery Girl dictated, "Brief but violent. Larger than Midoriya. The bruises to his ribcage, similarly, are consistent with blows and impacts. The other serious injury is the left shoulder, a result of a wrenching impact. You have all that, Aizawa?"

Aizawa nodded, tucking the notepad away.

"Not that it'll matter," he said, "We can't report this without giving Midoriya away."

Recovery Girl shrugged, pocketing the camera again after taking a picture of Izuku's quickly bruising shoulder.

"Good to have it anyway," she said, leaning down and kissing Izuku gently on the temple. Fire washed along his limbs, burning away the injuries and taking his energy with them. He sagged in the bed, slumping into the cushions, and she sighed.

"I know there's little chance of you listening to this," she said, her voice becoming hazy as the tiredness dragged at his consciousness, "But please don't make this a habit, young man. You're far too young for it."

Izuku would have responded, but the soft blanket of sleep passed over him before he could.

When Izuku woke again it was dark, rain pattering gently against the window and the lights dimmed low. It was nearly enough to lull him to sleep again, but he fought against the urge and slowly pushed himself back and up, into a sitting position. He stretched carefully, testing out each limb as he blinked the sleep from his eyes. Still a hospital room in the UA Hospital Wing, one that he was starting to suspect might become his at this point. Not his home and a jolt of concern ran through him. What about his Mom? Did she know what had happened? Was she at home, waiting worriedly? There was a faint noise, a snore, and Izuku whipped around, hands lifting defensively before he froze.

His Mom, asleep in a chair. He blinked away incipient tears: she was always there for him, wasn't she? He looked down at his prosthetic, slowly flexing the fingers one by one to make sure there wasn't any damage, and wondering. For a moment, just a moment, self-doubt crept in: did his Mom still see her child when she looked at him? Did she flinch every time she remembered he'd had an arm torn off for his ambitions, as she had when he'd first asked her if he could be a Hero without a Quirk? Did she bitterly regret allowing him to walk into danger? Izuku shook his head, shoving away the thoughts. No. Even if she did regret, he'd never doubted that she loved him. That was more than enough.

Still, it was time to face the music. Izuku pulled at the collar of the hospital gown he'd been dressed in, took a deep breath and leaned over to his Mom, gently shaking her by the arm. She stirred, blinking and shaking her head to clear away the fuzziness of sleep.

"Izuku?" she blearily asked. Izuku smiled, a small smile laced with guilt.

"Hey, Mom," he said, throat thickening. In retrospect, the crushing hug that wrapped around him was predictable: Izuku excused himself as not thinking straight. At least he wasn't injured anymore he thought as he instinctively hugged back, blinking away threatening tears. His Mom broke away, looking him over with teary eyes as though she wasn't sure that he was there, that he was unhurt. He couldn't really blame her, though: the last time she'd been in here he'd been missing an arm, after all.

"Oh, Izuku," she said, "My foolish, reckless, heroic boy."

Izuku laughed, finding it watery but warm and his Mom hugged him again.

"Mom," he protested, half-squashed, but he didn't struggle. The second hug was briefer but no less fierce, his Mom relinquishing her crushing grip on him reluctantly.

"Well," she said, dabbing at her damp eyes with a tissue she pulled out of nowhere, "This is better than the last time, at least. Is it wrong of me to wish that you weren't so heroic, Izuku?"

Izuku smiled, shook his head.

"No," he said softly, "Mom. Have you…do you know if the little girl, Eri…"

His Mom looked up, blinking and tucking the tissue away into a sleeve.

"Oh, Eri? The little girl you saved?" she asked, a warm smile breaking across her face, "She's alright, Izuku. I don't think she's…I don't think she's all that well," she said, choosing her words carefully and placing them with care, "But she wasn't hurt. Recovery Girl is looking after her, I think. She seems like a sweet child, but very quiet."

Izuku nodded, deciding not to elaborate on why he suspected Eri was so quiet. His Mom didn't really need to know – and if Eri was okay and in safe hands, then that was enough for him. He hoped that their escape going loud hadn't traumatised her too much, although it was definitely better than staying there.

"Good," he said quietly, "I promised her that I'd get her away from Overhaul, and…I'm glad I could keep my promise."

His Mom leaned forwards, wordlessly taking his hands and squeezing. Izuku sighed and squeezed his eyes shut for a long blink, only opening them when the door opened and several pairs of footsteps walked in. Recovery Girl was in the lead with Aizawa a step behind, Nedzu perched on his shoulder. The Principal waved cheerfully.

"Mr Midoriya," he said, sounding delighted, "How wonderful to see you safe! You see, Aizawa? I told you that Mr Midoriya would save himself. I even predicted the building being on fire."

Izuku blinked. Nedzu was positively beaming – Aizawa looked like he was regretting every moment of his life that had brought him here. Right, he'd kicked over a lot of chemicals before the whole diving out of a window thing, and Edgeshot had mentioned a fire. Izuku suppressed the part of him that wanted to grin maniacally, figuring that avoiding looking like a gleeful pyromaniac was a good idea – discretion was the better part of valour, after all. Recovery Girl bustled over to him, checking him over before nodding.

"A clean bill of health, Mr Midoriya," she said, "Physically at least. That little girl told us that you jumped out of a window."

Izuku couldn't believe that Eri had snitched on him. Then again, she couldn't have known how crazy it was. And he'd done something very similar with Stain, so…well, the Bats had jumped off tall buildings with only their grapple to catch them all the time. Or Jason, Dick and Nightwing Damian had – Bruce, Tim, Barbara and Damian's Robin costume had all included capes that could act as a glider in a pinch. Sometimes Izuku wondered if Bruce had been under the influence when designing his initial costume, because really. What kind of person said 'Ah yes, I will use this cape as a glider' and then actually did it? No-one stable, that was for certain.

"She told us as much as she could," Nedzu continued, "But I'd like to hear it from you, if you don't mind."

Well, this might be awkward. Izuku was fairly sure that Chronostasis was dead – three shots to the torso wasn't always fatal, but he was pretty certain that the second shot had hit the man in the heart – and the fight with Rappa had been a little bit more brutal than was probably Hero sanctioned. Then again, was Nedzu likely to care? Probably not. Might as well own up to it.

"Okay," he said, nodding, "What do you want to know?"

"From the moment Overhaul attacked the OMC, if you don't mind," Nedzu said. Recovery Girl gave Nedzu a disapproving glance but said nothing – Izuku wondered if they'd set this up beforehand. Probably, because Recovery Girl had to know at least a little bit about revisiting trauma. Ah, well. The OMC…Izuku mourned them only a little. They hadn't been evil people, in the end, but they hadn't been good ones either. They hadn't deserved what had happened to them, though.

"The entire OMC had been called together to try and stay safe from Overhaul," Izuku said, "I think that Usami thought we were hidden and that if we stayed there Overhaul wouldn't find us. Either that or he thought we could beat Overhaul. Obviously, though, he knew where we were. He came through the wall, shock and awe."

Izuku looked down at his hands, remembering. His mouth tightened into a grimace at the memory.

"It wasn't much a fight," he said, "Overhaul'd brought an Eight Bullet – Rikiya – and Chronostasis, so the OMC barely lasted a minute. Chronostasis shot me with a dart, with an anti-Quirk drug in it I think, that's why he left me alive. They took me, I was unconscious, I woke up in a cell."

His Mom was gripping his hand so hard it was starting to turn white, but Izuku ignored it. He clenched his left fist instead.

"They wanted me alive, to see the effects of the drug," he continued, "So I pretended I was more badly hurt than I was. The guards came in to check on me, but they weren't much good at fighting. Knocked them out, tied them up, left. I was looking for a way out when I ended up behind Overhaul and Chronostasis."

Izuku hesitated there, wondering if he should keep talking. Aizawa, as far as he knew, didn't know about All For One, and neither did his Mom. He kept talking, slightly more slowly.

"They were talking about a backer they'd found," he said, "A dangerous one. Chronostasis wasn't happy about working with them, I think, but Overhaul seemed to think there wasn't any choice if they were to go to war with the MLA. They seemed convinced that there'd be a fight, which makes sense. Overhaul mentioned that they wanted to sell both an anti-Quirk bullet and a cure on the black market, to increase their power, and they wanted me as a test subject. Overhaul said it would…motivate Eri, if there was a human test subject."

Recovery Girl drew in a harsh breath and the half-smile had left Nedzu's face. The Principal's eyes were as dark as Izuku had ever seen them, glittering with unfathomable emotion. Izuku had heard a rumour, once, that Nedzu had been a test subject before he'd ever been a Hero. He didn't like to ask.

"Given the way they were talking," Izuku said heavily, "I decided that I needed to escape, and take Eri with me. And that's when I left Overhaul and Chronostasis."

Izuku licked his lips, quickly running through his next actions in order to make it make sense.

"I decided that I needed to escape and take Eri with me," he said, not bothering to offer a justification for it, "So I needed to find her. I went through the ceilings to a security room, knocked out the guard and blocked the door. I used the cameras to find Eri before destroying the system as much as I could. It wasn't that hard, there weren't many patrols or anything, so I got to Eri and convinced her to come with me. I'd already plotted out an escape route, using a window and my grapple, but an alarm went off before I could get there. It must have been…one of the guards must have been found. Probably the security office or my cell."

Eri's cell was also possible, but Izuku wasn't sure how many people had access. Oh well.

"Since we'd been caught I sped up: I picked up Eri and ran. We were still caught by one of the Eight Bullets, Kendo Rappa, and he chased us. The room I was going to escape from was a lab, I made it in first but when I couldn't break a window I ambushed him. It didn't…it didn't really work."

Izuku closed his eyes, briefly thinking. Maybe he should have used the gun from the start, waited and put a bullet through Rappa's skull as he burst through the door. Maybe. But he hadn't expected Rappa to be so tough, he didn't think he could be blamed for that.

"We fought," he said, choosing not to provide a play by play, "He was tough. A lot tougher than I expected, and stronger than I am. He managed to pin me down, start strangling me."

Hands on his throat, Rappa's crazed expression, vision flickering and blurring as the stress and the lack of oxygen got to him, memories resurfacing harder than ever. Izuku shook his head.

"I was panicking," he admitted, "I felt around, felt a piece of a broken chair. I didn't have time to be subtle…I put it through the eyehole of his mask, to get him off me, and hit him with a chair leg to keep him down. I broke the window, but by the time I'd done that and gotten Eri over to me Chronostasis had arrived. Chronostasis, and another Eight Bullet – Shin Nemoto. They were blocking the door, maybe close enough to grab me if I tried to go out the window, probably armed."

"But you had a gun," Nedzu murmured. Izuku nodded.

"I'd taken it from one of the guards," he said, "Rappa knocked it out of my hand, but I picked it back up. I was too badly hurt to keep fighting hand to hand, even if I thought I could beat Chronostasis and Nemoto at once. But…"

"The gun evens the odds, since there was a distance," Nedzu said. Izuku glanced away from him, catching a glimpse of his Mom in the corner of his eye: she was pale, but her face was set in a determined expression.

"I didn't want to shoot them," he said, the lie coming smoothly from his lips, "I was threatening them. Keeping them away. I'd picked up a vial of chemical that I knew would cause a fire, as a distraction. But the problem was, they believed I wouldn't shoot them."

"But it was you or them, and Eri was there was well," Aizawa completed, "They attacked you?"

"Nemoto went for a gun," Izuku said, "I threw the vial, shot it. The fire would keep anyone else back. Chronostasis lunged at me, reaching out, like he knew I wouldn't shoot him."

Izuku turned his head away from his Mom, unable to look at her. Chronostasis had deserved what he'd gotten. If Izuku could do it again, he'd do it sooner – but there was knowing that, and there was looking his Mom in the eye and telling her that he'd very likely killed a man, and he felt very little remorse over it.

"I didn't even think about it," Izuku said, "I just pulled the trigger. Centre mass, three shots and he went down. I fired the rest at Nemoto to keep him distracted, grabbed Eri and jumped out of the window. Grappled down – I'd been hit by that sedative dart, so I slipped and fell the last couple of feet, but I made it. And then I was just trying to get as far away as possible when Edgeshot found us."

Izuku frowned.

"Was Edgeshot in the area, or…?"

"I called in some favours," Aizawa said, "We knew more or less where Overhaul's building was, so we were searching the area. Edgeshot just found you first. He was pretty impressed."

Izuku nodded.

"And the building, the fire?"

"The building is likely unsalvageable," Nedzu told him, far too cheerfully, "The fire was prevented from spreading, but the structure was gutted. Overhaul probably has a secondary location to retreat to, but otherwise I imagine you've set him back quite a way. There were no bodies recovered, however, so it is quite likely that all the guards you encountered on your way escaped. Whether Chronostasis also escaped, however, is harder to say."

Nedzu regarded Izuku thoughtfully.

"Three bullets to the chest is not certain to be fatal, but it is likely. What do you think, Mr Midoriya?"

Izuku thought back again, through the haze of rage and pain, and tried to remember. He shook his head, just a slight motion.

"I…I don't know, sir. But I think…the second shot was near to his heart. If Overhaul wasn't nearby, I think he might have…I might have killed him."

The words lay heavy in the air, a leaden weight in the room. Izuku's Mom squeezed his hand even tighter and , to Izuku's surprise, the one who broke the silence was Recovery Girl.

"Good," she grunted, "Maybe it'll teach the rest of them a lesson."

Every head turned to her and she scoffed.

"Oh, what, because I'm a doctor I'm not allowed to be glad? My Hippocratic Oath restricts me from causing harm, not wishing it. And Chronostasis was Overhaul's second in command, he must have been complicit in what was happening to that little girl. I saw the cuts, the scars, the poorly bandaged injuries it's a miracle that none of them were infected. She's terrified of everything, no matter how well she hides it! Trauma like that will last a lifetime. Do you know she's five, nearly six, and she doesn't know what an apple is? An apple! If Midoriya killed Chronostasis with that bullet then – well, dear, I'm sorry it had to be you. But I won't be sorry that monster is dead."

"Thank you for that impassioned speech, Chiyo," Nedzu said, unruffled, "As it happens, Mr Midoriya, I do agree with her."

Nobody said anything for a moment, Nedzu leaping nimbly down from Aizawa's shoulder and climbing smoothly onto a chair, waving a paw.

"Would I have preferred you escaped without having to harm any of the Eight Precepts?" he asked, "Yes, I suppose. Do I blame you for harming them, possibly killing Chronostasis? No, not at all. Actions, as they say, have consequences. Chronostasis chose to attempt to recapture you, likely kill you. You cannot be blamed for wishing otherwise, although I'm afraid I will have to insist that you see a psychiatrist. Your mental health cannot be overlooked. Fortunately, Hound Dog, our in-house psychiatrist, is both skilled and discreet. You will be in good hands, moving forwards."

Therapy, huh? That was a novel thought. Izuku wasn't certain any of the Bat family had ever managed a complete round: rumour had it that Bruce had once managed three sessions with Dinah before she threw him out of her office in frustration. Jason had preferred to manage his sanity via steady application of nicotine, egregious amounts of violence and, on occasion, entire days spent sulking. Dick was cheerful in that way that made you wonder if he was on the edge of snapping and going on a rampage that would put Jason to shame, Damian was almost comically repressed and Tim was, well, Tim. Jason had liked him well enough, but the third Robin had been unnerving sometimes.

God. Looking back, Izuku was amazed any of the family had managed to function enough to get out of bed, never mind fight crime. The only sane one among them was Barbara and maybe Kate, and even they was debateable. Izuku was broken from his thoughts by Aizawa stirring and clearing his throat.

"If the story spreads he'll be a hero in the MLA," Aizawa said dourly, shifting in place – Izuku thought that he was pleased to be free of Nedzu's weight, even if he barely showed it. Aizawa gazed out of the window, not looking at anyone but still commanding their attention with his gravel-voiced prediction.

"Alone, without his Quirk, he manages all that and escapes? They'll be putting your face on propaganda posters, Midoriya."

Izuku winced and Aizawa chuckled, dry and harshly scraping.

"Yeah, not the best position for an infiltrator. Assuming you're still up for it after, of course."

"No need to decide now," Nedzu swiftly interrupted, cutting all of them off, "I think it best that you remove yourself from the public eye, at least for a little while."

"Witness protection?" Izuku asked. Nedzu shrugged.

"There is a chance, albeit a small one, that you might have been identified as Izuku Midoriya rather than Akatani Mikumo," the Principal said calmly, "As such, it seems like a good idea to remove you from danger for at least a few weeks, until we know more. We'll call it protective custody for Akatani Mikumo, but it will be a lot easier to maintain the fiction if you aren't here. Happily, All Might intends to make a visit to I-Island, and I believe he wished to ask you to accompany him regardless. Your Defensive Matrix Gel, I think, would be of interest and he has some contacts that could prove useful."

Nedzu looked over at Izuku's Mom, waving a hand again.

"We can arrange for you to go as well, Mrs Midoriya, if you would like."

Izuku's Mom chewed her lip for a moment, her expression wrinkling with thought. Izuku, knowing her well, could read the emotions that rippled across her face – a mixture of uncertainty and longing that hardened into determination, no matter how reluctant – and wondered if the others could see it as clearly.

"Yes," she said, softly, "I'd like to, thank you. But it might, um, tip people off? Is that a danger?"

Nedzu grinned – or at least bared his teeth. Izuku was fairly certain that this was an actual grin, though.

"Oh, no, no problem! In fact, this is better. It will be much more convincing that you and Mr Midoriya have simply won a prize draw that included tickets to I-Island than if Mr Midoriya alone was going. Going alone makes things a little easier to suspect. I shall make the arrangements, of course."

"Of course," Aizawa said dryly, "I assume he'll be back for the training summer camp?"

"Yes, yes," Nedzu said, waving a dismissive paw, "That's almost three weeks away. That should be more than long enough to see the lay of the land, as you might say, and make further plans. The MLA and Eight Precepts will have begun to manoeuvre in earnest then, if my guess is correct, and will have begun to settle into patterns."

Nedzu laughed, a bright and cheery noise that nevertheless sent a chill raking down the back of Izuku's neck. Aizawa actually shuddered and Recovery Girl gave Nedzu a poisonous look.

"Ah, my apologies," the Principal said, "I'm simply so enthused. I do like it when something interesting happens, and this promises to be interesting indeed."

"And on that slightly terrifying note," Recovery Girl interrupted, "You have a clean bill of health, dear. Do you feel well enough to get up? I think you've been questioned enough for one day."

Izuku nodded, agreeing, and Recovery Girl briskly shooed everyone else out of the room so that he could change. The only one who remained, albeit briefly, was Nedzu: Izuku made eye contact with the Principal as he lingered in the doorway.

"Just one more thing, Mr Midoriya," he said, "If you don't mind."

Nedzu glanced over his shoulder, checking that the others were out of earshot, before shrugging.

"I think it would be fair to say," he said, "That your skills, while very useful, must have come from somewhere."

Ice trickled down Izuku's neck, an instinctive terror. He'd known, academically, that he couldn't hide it forever, not from someone more perceptive, but he'd hoped…how could he explain it? How could be tell anyone what had happened to him without sounding like a madman? Nedzu shrugged again.

"You can perhaps understand that both Aizawa and I are curious as to where and how you learned. I won't press you on it – you've certainly proven yourself worthy of trust, and I will certainly vouch for you in that regard – but suspect that you are somewhat reluctant to speak with Aizawa or even All Might about it. As I said, I won't press – but if you want a hopefully unbiased perspective, a neutral party as it were, then I would be quite happy to provide."

Nedzu pulled open the door, tapping a paw against the wood for a moment.

"Do think on it, Mr Midoriya. Keeping secrets is something I know well."

And then he was gone, leaving Izuku to stare after him.

It wasn't raining, that night. Izuku thought it was unfair, somehow: it had always seemed to be at the very least drizzling when Bruce or Jason had needed to brood. Nonetheless, Izuku did his best thinking from high up, and so he left his apartment in the dark. Technically he probably should have stayed in the building, but he needed to think and he couldn't do that around other people. Just a side effect of the way his brief stint in witness protection was being organised: Izuku Midoriya couldn't just vanish. If he'd been identified he might be in danger for this day or so, but the risk had to be taken.

Aizawa was shadowing him, he knew. Aizawa was good, but Izuku had caught a glimpse of his lanky form as he jumped between two roofs, a reflection in a shop window. Most people would never have noticed, but Izuku had been looking out for a tail. Well, so long as Aizawa didn't interrupt, he could watch all he liked. Izuku let his feet carry him on a well-worn path, along streets that were empty and dark until he reached his destination: Aldera Middle School. Izuku looked up the building, sighing out a soft breath. Chipped and faded façade, stained brick, unclean windows…quite a difference from the shining metal and glass of UA, but more familiar. More comforting, somehow, and Izuku scaled the outside wall with ease, flipping himself onto the roof with a quick pull and twist, rolling to his feet and brushing away some surface dirt. This was it. How long ago – a year? Slightly less. Just under a year ago, Izuku thought, he'd been standing on this roof.

He still didn't know why.

It was something Izuku tried not to dwell on. Introspection was all well and good, but trying to psycho-analyse a you that wasn't really you anymore was a path directly to madness. He raked his eyes across the nearby skyline, trying to see if Aizawa was there, but he couldn't see him. Well, Izuku was only here to think anyway. He'd just have to be careful not to say anything aloud. He looked around, walking across the roof and sitting down against the rim of the roof, his back to the cold brick. He leaned his head back, the cool breeze slipping into his hood and caressing across his skin, and sighed.

He shouldn't have been surprised that Nedzu and Aizawa had noticed something was off. Truthfully, he wasn't. But he'd hoped…he'd begun to think that maybe no-one would say anything. That he could just continue as he had been, pretending that all the skills he was slowly piecing together from his memories were things practiced on his own, learned from books, inspired from tv. It never would have happened, but it would have been nice. But it wasn't meant to be, which meant that he needed to consider what Nedzu had said. That he really needed to think about telling…well, anyone.

Izuku cracked an eye open, squinting into the night. It wasn't quite dark yet, shadows clustering thickly around buildings, and he thought he saw the flutter of a scarf on a building nearby. It could have been his imagination, he supposed, but seeing it brought back uncomfortable memories of being hunted by Batman and a thought, passing across his mind like an oil slick: what if Nedzu reacted badly? What if something went wrong, what if he had to flee? It was a ridiculous thing to think, it had no basis in reality, but – but Izuku still feared. Luckily, he had a tried and tested method for getting over this sort of worry.

Vigilante plan, version twenty-nine. Make sure that he had a stash of equipment that he could fall back on if needed. He'd need to do some research, find somewhere that was actually safe, and it was a little late to do it now, but it was something for the future. Still, even without equipment built up he should be able to manage. The Defensive Matrix Gel was out of his reach without UA resources, but he could make a cruder version that would be good enough. Guns, well, finding guns among the gangs wouldn't be impossible. A grapple he could make. His helmet, crammed with technology as it was, would be harder. He could make something similar, he thought, although it would have a lot less features. Although if he'd fled, would it be a good idea to go out as Red Hood? Would it be better to change his costume identity?

If he was on the run, he gloomily concluded, it wouldn't hurt. What would hurt, though, would be the lack of access to someone who could maintain his prosthetic. He could do basic work, yes, but actual battle damage? Patchwork repairs would only take you so far, and back-alley doctors were only reliable if you had the cash to find a good one. Still, Izuku mused, Jason had never quite given up on that whole controlling crime thing…he shook his head. He was getting too far into his head. If Nedzu hadn't cared about him possibly killing Chronostasis, he wouldn't care that Izuku had memories that weren't his own. But that came right back around to whether or not he should tell the Principal.

Izuku leaned his head back, looking up at the sky. It was nothing like a Gotham sky: those were almost inevitably choked by pollution and rain clouds, light pollution washing out the stars on the rare occasion that they might be visible. Well, the light pollution was the same, he thought. The moon was narrow, mostly hidden by the single cloud that drifted desultory across the sky, but it was powerfully nostalgic nonetheless.

"Nostalgia," Izuku said to himself, lips barely moving, just a murmur. Plenty of that about, and it was another of his worries about telling Nedzu. If he told Nedzu about the memories, about Jason, then there was a good chance that Nedzu would want to know more. And if he knew more, then he might insist that Izuku got therapy, talked about the more worrying memories. And, well, talking about the more worrying memories meant delving into them, which meant…which meant…well.

Izuku didn't like to prod too much at the oldest memories after the Pit, the darkest ones. There was something about them, something unnerving – and he thought he knew what it might be. He wasn't afraid of Superman, not really: he was almost certain that Clark had died in Jason's last stand, and even if he hadn't the two masterminds of the multiversal transporter had been Lex Luthor and Bruce Wayne, both quite firmly out of Superman's reach. It could maybe be recreated, but Izuku didn't think so.

The toxic influence of the Lazarus Pit, however, was less likely to abide by things like physical rules and reason.

It wasn't the rage that he was afraid of. Izuku had become accustomed to anger, after the memories. Maybe even before, whether or not he ignored it, but it wasn't the rage. It wasn't the rage, it wasn't the hate, it wasn't any of the emotions that might be stirred up that he was afraid of. It was the impulsiveness, the inability to stay in control of himself. It was the thought that, if the Lazarus Pit influence lingered, if it infected him, he could lose all ability to marshal his wayward emotions.

Izuku briefly wondered how many people he'd be willing to kill on his way, if he became fixated on killing Shigaraki. How much collateral damage he could shrug off, so long as he could justify it in his mania.

Well, that just made the decision easier, didn't it? Clark was nearly certainly dead, but nearly only counted in horseshoes and hand grenades. If Clark had somehow survived, and managed to defeat what remained of the Insurgency, and managed to recreate the dimensional transporter, and came here in pursuit of Jason – an astronomically low chance, but a chance nonetheless – then someone should know. For all the good it would do – but forewarned was better than nothing, and if something went wrong for Izuku…if the Lazarus Pit madness somehow came back to him, if some thug got lucky, hell if he slipped in the shower and broke his neck, someone else should know. And Nedzu was a good choice: the Principal was as close to an unbiased and trustworthy source as Izuku could get, he was an undeniable genius, and it would help to have Nedzu on side if, in the future, he needed to convince someone else that he was telling the truth about his memories.

Izuku still didn't like it. But he didn't have to like it, did he?

And that was it, wasn't it? He'd talked himself into it, convinced himself. Well, it would probably have come out sooner or later: better to have it under his control than blurted out in some stressful moment. Izuku rose to his feet, tucking his hands into the pockets of his hoody and looking over the city. Was Bennet out there, he wondered. Was she on the run? Was the chase bearing down on her, did the MLA even have an idea that she'd betrayed them?

They had to have some kind of idea, he reasoned. She'd been the only member of the OMC not present when Overhaul attacked, and he was fairly sure that Seabreeze would have worked with the police to realise that. The question that Izuku had was why. Why would Bennet betray them? How would she betray them? He'd had suspicions about her, but she hadn't struck him as someone who would be loyal to Overhaul, so…so it had to be someone else pulling her strings. There were probably plenty of criminal gangs in Japan who would be happy to see the Eight Precepts and MLA tearing into each other, but Occam's Razor. The simplest answer. All For One, the schemer looking for a way to return to power.

"Need to talk to Nedzu," Izuku mumbled, lips barely moving and hidden within the shadow of his hood. Tomorrow, he thought. He'd try to get some answers – and he'd give some in return.

UA was quiet the next day. Not that Izuku had expected any different, with it being the summer holidays, but it was still weird. Unnerving, in a way. He left his Mom with Recovery Girl, managing to wrangle that he needed to talk to Nedzu alone, and the Principal was apparently willing. Izuku made his way through the corridors, absently noting the cameras scattered throughout the corridor. There was a camera above the door to Nedzu's office, he noted, a tiny thing hidden in some decorative scrollwork. He waved at it, watching as the door swung open.

"Mr Midoriya," Nedzu said happily, "Come in, come in! You wanted to speak to me?"

"Yes, sir," Izuku said, entering, "You wanted to know about my training?"

"Ah," Nedzu said, black eyes fixing disconcertingly on Izuku for a moment, "Of course. A decision, then. But before we begin, would you like some tea? Freshly bought, quite lovely!"

"Yes, please."

Izuku idly wondered if Bruce would have liked Nedzu's tea. He would have recognised the quality, definitely – one of those numerous mostly useless skills that Bruce had accumulated over the years – but on the whole, the Bat Family preferred coffee for the extra caffeine. Izuku, himself, was ambivalent towards it. Maybe having seen Aizawa draining those expresso shots had put him off. Izuku took a seat, thanking Nedzu as a cup was placed in front of him and sipping, closing his eyes in satisfaction. It was really good tea.

"Ah, it's nice to see someone properly appreciate tea," Nedzu said, "Toshinori tries, of course, but his stomach. I had hopes for Aizawa, once."

Izuku blinked at the Principal, who smiled serenely.

"Oh yes, there was a time, at the very beginning of Aizawa's career, when he could function without near lethal levels of coffee. But as time went on, well…as Present Mic has said on occasion, Aizawa now simply has dangerous levels of blood in his coffee stream."

Izuku smiled and Nedzu settled back into his seat, the two of them drinking in companiable silence. When Izuku's cup was half empty he set it down, clinking softly, and took a deep breath. Nedzu curled his paws around his cup, eyes watching intently as Izuku prepared to speak. Well, time to get it over with – no point beating around the bush. Izuku sighed, closing his eyes for a long moment, before he opened them again and spoke.

"Do you believe in a multiverse, sir?" he asked. Nedzu sipped his tea, his gaze unblinking and unwavering.

"I keep an open mind," the Principal said. Izuku nodded, jerkily.

"Alright. I – there are multiple explanations. I suppose I should start with the two I've come up with, as possibilities. I have…memories. Memories that aren't really mine, of a Hero from another world. I…it could be a Quirk, my Quirk, expressing itself. Extremely unlikely, I've had the gene test and my Quirk gene isn't expressed, but it could be the case. Otherwise, it could be someone else's Quirk. Someone could have implanted false memories in me, for…I don't know why."

"There are Quirks that could do that," Nedzu mused, "Mandalay, the Hero from the Wild Wild Pussycats, has a telepathic Quirk. It's not unthinkable that someone who could impose false memories could exist. But your skills, the way you act…yes, unlikely. Your preferred theory, then?"

Izuku took a shaky breath and ran a hand over his mouth.

"It's…this is what I remember. There was a world, taken over by…by a villain," he started, deciding not to go into the intricacies of Clark's fall from grace, "There was a man, Lex Luthor, who was a genius. Before the villain took over he made a machine that could copy the complete brain-waves of anyone put into it – it was supposed to be a failsafe. In case a Hero was killed, a clone could be created and implanted with the memories. The Heroes he showed it to argued that it was unethical, and he eventually agreed so he stored it away. It was stored with a, a dimensional transporter. I – Jason - was with the Resistance, and the universal transporter needed to be destroyed. I needed to fight Bruce, Batman, Jason won but I was dying when Clark arrived. He couldn't stop me, I knew his weakness, but I must have activated the cloner and the transporter somehow. When it exploded, it must have…overloaded? I don't know, I didn't design it, but somehow those memories were hurled across the multiverse, to…"

"You," Nedzu said, his gaze intense, "Are you aware that you were switching between third and first person identification during that?"

Izuku looked away.

"I have flashbacks, sometimes," he admitted, "Dreams, too. It's never been an issue before, but if I think too hard on it…the memories are like my own, sometimes. It's hard to remember they're not."

Despite that, though, it wasn't an identity issue, Izuku thought. He wasn't sure how – he wasn't who he had been – but he never found himself tormented by the question of who he was. He was who he was, Izuku Midoriya made different, and he was usually quite content with that. The only problem seemed to be under extreme stress, like when he'd been stumbling through the city with Eri at his side, but Izuku wasn't sure if that was just a result of the sedatives and the injuries. And he'd hardly spiralled: one sight of his prosthetic had reminded him that he wasn't Jason. Still…

"Hmm," Nedzu said, but offered no further comment on Izuku's identity issues. Izuku waited, tapping his fingers gently on the chair arm, the drumming of his left harder. Some people might have found it unnerving: Nedzu didn't even seem to notice the mismatched noises. Izuku wondered what the Principal was thinking as he waited. Perhaps it was time to start setting up caches, just in case? Maybe he could get his hands on some of the Defensive Matrix Gel for his body armour, since it wasn't something he could find on the street. If he had to quit UA and maybe even go on the run he'd want some of that. Nedzu's eyes refocused, narrowing on Izuku: Izuku refused to entertain the thought that the Principal was reading his mind.

"Thank you for telling me, Mr Midoriya," Nedzu said quietly, "I cannot imagine it was an easy decision. I will not abuse your trust."

Unless it was for a very good purpose, Izuku supposed. Well, things happened. Nedzu paused for an instant before continuing.

"I will attempt to find any nearby person who might have a Quirk that could insert false memories, but for the moment I think it hardly matters. Your skills have an explanation that does not involve the MLA or All For One: that is sufficient for me."

Nedzu tapped at his chin with a paw, an oddly human expression.

"Unless, of course, you are some sort of sleeper agent!"

"A sleeper agent, sir?" Izuku warily asked. Nedzu nodded enthusiastically and Izuku wondered what thoughts were behind that suddenly cheerful expression, what Nedzu was thinking. The smile, however, was as inscrutable an expression as Izuku had ever seen.

"Of course! Of course. It would take a significant amount of effort, but it is quite possible for an agency with sufficient resources to find a child and a parent – conveniently a single parent – and steal them away! They can then brainwash the child, implanting rigorous training as they grow up, until finally they use a Quirk to make them forget and implant false memories, with their conditioning triggered by any number of phrases!"

Izuku shuffled away from Nedzu on sheer instinct, but the Principal didn't seem to notice.

"Of course the brainwashing of the mother, the creation of a false history, the insertion of people who claim to have known the two is harder than brainwashing and training a child, but not beyond theoretical reach! And then you have an almost perfect weapon…obedient, deadly, and utterly unable to betray you, even unconsciously. After all, how can you tell someone what you yourself do not know?"

Izuku, almost against his will, found himself calculating ways to take Nedzu down if the Principal ever snapped. In physical combat, he didn't mind his chances: those claws and teeth were sharp, but Nedzu was small enough that he shouldn't be hard to kill. Out of combat? Well, maybe if Izuku was willing to blow up an entire city block-

Nedzu, apparently realising that he'd begun to slip into a megalomaniacal rant, cut himself off with a slightly sheepish cough.

"Apologies, Mr Midoriya," he said, "I forget myself, sometimes. I don't think you are a sleeper agent, as it happens, but one can never be too careful."

Well, that wasn't something Izuku disagreed with. He just shrugged.

"That's alright, sir," he said, "I just expected that you would be more…suspicious? Sceptical, I suppose. My story is, it's almost unbelievable."

"Hmm," Nedzu said, softly thoughtful, "I suppose it does sound unusual. But consider, Mr Midoriya, that we live in a world of unbelievable things. Two hundred years ago I would have been unthinkable. All for One would be a villain from a story, the very idea of Heroes and Villains would be the stuff of fiction. Stars and Stripes, the American Hero, are you familiar with her Quirk?"

Izuku shook his head and Nedzu hummed again.

"Mm, I suppose you wouldn't be – it's something of a state secret, apparently, although I suspect any villain worth their salt knows about it. Her Quirk, New Order, is astonishingly powerful. Even One For All and All For One might be eclipsed by it, for New Order allows Stars and Stripes to simply re-write reality. She wished to be as strong as All Might: therefore, her Quirk made it so. Or nearly so, I should perhaps say, but close enough that distinction is almost meaningless. It is powerful in a way that simply distorts the scales. No, as far as belief goes, Shakespeare's Hamlet had it right."

Izuku thought for a moment, sifting through his memories until one stood out.

"There are more things in heaven and earth, Horatio, than are dreamt of in your philosophy?"

Nedzu tilted his head at him, questioning, and Izuku shrugged, just slightly awkwardly.

"Jason, um, he liked plays. And older books."

"A cultured man," Nedzu commented, "And somewhat reassuring, for implanted memories would presumably lack such details. I shall look into this, Mr Midoriya, as I have said. But other than that? We shall continue as we have been."

Izuku nodded, feeling oddly off-balance at how easily Nedzu had accepted it. He supposed the reasons that Nedzu had given were sound, it was just…he'd expected worse, and the chance of something going entirely well was disconcerting in the extreme. He shook his head and took a fortifying sip of tea.

"It's good that you came to me, however," Nedzu said, "Always better to control information. And speaking of controlling information, I needed to talk to you about something else."

Izuku saw Nedzu tap at a button on his desk.

"Something else, sir?" he warily asked. Nedzu nodded.

"Yes, yes. Nothing to really worry about, but it does concern someone else. Before he arrives, though, there's a third thing. Miss Bennet."

"She betrayed the OMC, didn't she?" Izuku asked, "She wasn't there. For someone so outwardly fanatical to be absent…"

And Izuku should know. He'd hidden his own double nature behind a mask of fervency and he cursed himself for not realising Bennet was doing the same. He'd had a bad feeling, but…well. Dwelling on it wouldn't help, he supposed. Nedzu nodded slowly.

"Yes," he said, "That is my thought. However, I may have some insight upon why, and how, that you lack."

Izuku waited patiently, but there was a terrible foreboding in his heart. Nedzu tapped a paw on his desk, shaking his head.

"After you brought your suspicions about Miss Bennet to me," he said, "I investigated her. Her history, well, it only goes back perhaps seven years: before that she is, for want of a better term, a ghost. I looked deeper, and found a possible identity: an American girl, whose only noticeable trait was her Quirklessness. Her primary bully had a Quirk that matches Bennet's, and they both disappeared at around the same time."

Quirkless, Izuku heard, like the knell of some terrible drum. His heart pounded against his ribcage, his tongue felt thick in his mouth. Quirkless. A reflection of what he could have been, had his Mom been a little more desperate to make his dreams a reality. A foe, personal and painful despite the fact he barely knew her. He sucked in a breath and closed his eyes, three hammering beats of his heart before he opened his eyes again.

"You're sure?" he asked, his voice quiet and steady. Nedzu nodded.

"One cannot be certain, but yes. I am confident that Miss Bennet was Quirkless."

"I'd wondered," Izuku noted, detached and clinical despite the venomous snakes of fury biting at the inside of his ribcage, a poisonous hatred towards Bennet for her betrayal that had only come now, when he knew her history. Nedzu tilted his head.

"When she was ranting about how the Quirkless should know their place," Izuku elaborated, "I thought that it sounded personal. I wondered if she had experienced it – but I brushed it off. Thought it was too unlikely."

Izuku hunched forwards, fingers rubbing at his collarbone in a nervous tic that he didn't suppress, the coolness of his prosthetic oddly calming. His flesh hand flexed slowly.

"But it makes sense," he said, barely a whisper, "With what Overhaul said."

"About their backer?" Nedzu asked, "All For One, I assume."

Izuku nodded.

"They talked about the price, about Eri," he said, "That's why I went after her. That's why I took the risk – because if I left her then All For One could come in, and even if Eri can't control her Quirk he can take it, and if he returns to his full strength then there's nobody to stop him."

I can't do it again, he barely stopped himself from saying. I can't see nearly all the people I care about killed because they insist on fighting a near unstoppable enemy. I can't do it again. He forced the thought down.

"Yes," Nedzu agreed, "It would be deeply unfortunate."

He ignored the nearly hysterical chuckle Izuku gave at the understatement, continuing.

"I confess, the danger of All For One returning is part of the reason that I used I-Island as a safe area for you. It will be safe, that is certain, but there is something else there: All Might intended to ask if you would accompany him there regardless."

As though summoned by Nedzu's words the door creaked open and All Might stepped in, directing a sheepish look at them both as though he thought he was interrupting. Izuku swallowed his emotions, forcing himself to focus: he could have a breakdown later, if he needed one.

"Ah," Nedzu said, "And there's the man himself, to explain."

Izuku squinted at his Principal, turning his gaze onto All Might as the man stepped forwards, clearing his throat.

"Ah, yes. We're talking about I-Island?"

Izuku nodded and All Might rubbed at the back of his head, apparently trying to find a way to start the conversation. In the end, it seemed, he decided to dive in.

"I, ah, you recall our conversation, a short while ago, about my Quirk?"

"Yes," Izuku said, "About handing it on?"

All Might nodded.

"That, yes. While it may no longer be needed, with Eri at our side, I cannot condone forcing a child to use their Quirk. Therefore, now that I know All For One is still alive, I must begin looking for a successor. You've met Mirai's choice, Mirio, but I might have another."

All Might shifted uncomfortably, rubbing his hands together as though the bones ached. He shook his head.

"I don't want you to think, my boy, that this had any bearing on my offer to you. I'm doing a poor job of explaining this."

Izuku glanced at Nedzu, who remained inscrutable, and returned his attention fully to All Might.

"I've noticed, since offering you One For All," All Might said slowly, "That there are only two people who I have felt comfortable offering One For All. You are one, and Melissa Shield, the daughter of my old friend David, is the other."

All Might lifted his chin, looking Izuku in the eye.

"Melissa, like you, is Quirkless."

The thought flashed quicksilver across Izuku's mind – the two candidates were Quirkless, had he been chosen from pity? – but he dismissed it. No, he hadn't been. He hadn't believed that when he'd been offered the Quirk, he wouldn't now. Instead he just nodded.

"Okay," he said, "So you wanted me at I-Island to…assess her?"

"More convince her, perhaps," All Might said, "Although if she says no…well, perhaps assess is more correct. Um, it's just that, ah…"

"What All Might is failing to say," Nedzu interjected, "Is that Melissa Shield is perhaps a year or two older than you and, to all appearances, has given up her childhood dreams of being a Hero. While it is no slight on her character, the bearer of One For All must be determined. Implacable. Immovable. All Might, in short, wishes you to speak to her and test the waters, as it were. Peer to peer, rather than as an uncle figure offering her…"

"A dream," Izuku said, "A few years too late."

All Might winced and Izuku felt the briefest stab of guilt. It wasn't wrong though, was it? The cynical part of Izuku wondered if All Might was just dodging the hard conversation of why he hadn't offered her One For All earlier, but the more sensible part of him could understand that: hard to come to any sort of sensible agreement when it was so personal for both people involved. Jason and Bruce were a good example of that. Bruce and Clark too, come to think of it.

Hell, Jason had always wondered if he could have helped. If he could have interceded with Bruce on his implacable condemnation, tried to talk Clark down to a less indiscriminate policy. If he could have done something – Izuku had the chance to keep the strongest Quirk in the world on the board, make sure that there was a successor who could face down All For One if needed. Make sure that the Quirk went to someone who could be trusted with it. It was a chance he couldn't afford not to take.

"I'll help," he said, seeing relief crinkle across All Might's face, "I guess there won't be much else to do on I-Island, anyway."

Bit of a slower chapter compared to last week, but I guess it can't all be break-neck action. Setting some things up for the future, I suppose: brief reminder for anyone not familiar with Injustice that Lex Luthor is a hero only in that universe, he isn't a villain at all.

Other than that, not really much to say. Just the usual: reviews are always appreciated and I hope you enjoyed the chapter. Deadline for the next one is early November, I think, around the eighth, but hopefully it'll turn up sooner than then: either way, I'll see you there.