Chapter 14
He Deserves Better
The next morning, Nemuri stirred, a faint sensation brushing against her forehead. Her eyelids fluttered open, immediately meeting the stark whiteness of a blanket under her arms. With a groggy blink, the haze of sleep began to fade, and realization dawned—she had fallen asleep sitting up. She straightened abruptly, her head snapping to the side where Izuku lay.
Instead of the restful figure she anticipated, her gaze landed on a very much awake Izuku, his face partially hidden behind a book titled 'The History of U.A.'.
Izuku lowered the book slowly, his emerald eyes softening as they met hers. His lips curved into a gentle smile, a touch of relief evident in his expression. "Hey, you're awake. Good mor—"
Before the words could fully escape his mouth, Nemuri leaned forward, pulling him into a firm embrace. The boy tensed momentarily but quickly relaxed, his chin resting snugly in the crook of her neck. Her right hand cradled the back of his head, while her left pressed lightly against his back, holding him as though afraid to let go.
"Don't ever frighten me like that, understood?" Her voice trembled, the weight of unspoken fears laced within each word. A tear slid down her cheek, followed by another, unbidden but unstoppable.
Izuku remained still for a moment, his voice was barely above a whisper and tinged with guilt. "I'm sorry."
Nemuri kept Izuku in her embrace for a few more moments. Izuku didn't resist. There was no reason to protest—if anything, he found comfort in the warmth of her hold.
After what felt like an eternity, Nemuri finally released him from the hug, though her hands remained firmly on his shoulders. She held him at arm's length, her eyes scanning his face intently. "Are you feeling all right? Does anything hurt? Your eyes, ears—anything at all?"
Izuku's lips curved into a small, reassuring smile. "I'm fine," he said gently. "Recovery Girl came by earlier to check on me. She said I'm healed enough to leave whenever I feel ready."
Nemuri let out a deep, relieved sigh, her shoulders visibly relaxing. "Thank god," she murmured, the genuine relief in her tone making it clear just how much she had been worrying. "I'm just so glad you're okay."
Her expression shifted abruptly to one of suspicion, her sharp eyes narrowing slightly. "Are you sure? Nothing hurts at all? You're not lying to me, are you?"
Izuku laughed awkwardly, scratching the back of his head as his cheeks flushed faintly. "C-Come on," he stammered, "why would I lie about something like that?"
Nemuri slowly withdrew her hands from his shoulders, crossing her arms under her ample chest with a skeptical look. "Something tells me you're not being completely honest," she said, her tone carrying an edge of playful accusation.
"Nah!" Izuku replied brightly with an almost exaggerated cheer. "I think you're just overthinking."
In truth, his head had been aching since the moment he woke up. The dull throb was relentless, making it impossible to fall back asleep. But he stubbornly kept this to himself, convinced that Nemuri had worried enough already. Besides, he had endured far worse before; this was nothing in comparison.
Nemuri's sharp, suspicious gaze lingered on him for several agonizing seconds. The intensity of her scrutiny made him want to squirm, but finally, she let out a resigned sigh. "I see," she murmured. "I guess I should just be glad that you're all right."
A pang of guilt tightened in Izuku's chest, and his forced smile faltered slightly. He felt awful for lying to her. Maybe he should've told her the truth after all.
Nemuri's voice drew him out of his thoughts, softer now, tinged with hesitation. "I understand if I'm overstepping my boundaries," she began, her tone uncertain. Her eyes met his, a mixture of sadness and curiosity etched into her features. "But... yesterday... What—what happened?"
Izuku closed the book with a soft thud, placing it carefully on his blanket-covered lap. His gaze fell to the cover, his fingers tracing the title absently as his expression darkened. "I was... well... I was trying to tell you about the person who's been manipulating me."
Nemuri's eyes widened, her eyebrows shooting up in shock. "And just that caused such a violent reaction?"
"Yeah..." Izuku's voice came out weak, barely audible, as if even speaking the word took a monumental effort.
"Izuku..." Nemuri's hand rose slowly to cover her mouth, her fingers trembling slightly. "That..." Her thoughts raced, each more horrifying than the last. Who could possibly be manipulating him like this? What kind of person—what kind of entity—could inflict such devastating injuries on his body without even being physically present?
Izuku caught her gaze, the faintest hint of a self-deprecating smile tugging at his lips. "Someone once told me that I'd made a deal with the devil," he said, his tone hollow. He shook his head slightly as if shaking off the weight of those words. "I didn't believe them at first, but now... I know how right they were. I really did make a deal with the devil."
Nemuri's breath hitched, her eyes wide with horror as the gravity of his words sank in. "Just how much control do they have over you?" she asked, her voice trembling, every syllable heavy with fear and concern.
Izuku's only response at first was a faint shake of his head. When he finally spoke, his tone was a mixture of resignation and defeat. "I don't know," he admitted quietly. "I don't know how far their control goes. And at this point..." His voice trailed off as his gaze drifted to some far-off point, unfocused and distant. "I'm too afraid to even think about it."
Nemuri acted on instinct. Rising from her chair, she moved to sit beside Izuku on the bed, settling herself to his right. Gently, she pulled him into a side hug, guiding his head to rest against her left shoulder. Her arm encircled his shoulders, offering a steady presence, while her cheek rested softly against the crown of his head. She began rubbing his left bicep in small, soothing motions, her touch warm and reassuring.
"Everything will be all right," she murmured. "I'm sure we'll find a way out of this, okay?"
Izuku closed his eyes, a small but genuine smile creeping onto his face. "Thanks," he said, his voice tinged with gratitude. Having someone to lean on in such dark times was a luxury he hadn't known for far too long. This time, though, he knew he could trust the shoulder offered to him. It was vastly different than the last time—when that trust had been shattered, replaced with betrayal by someone hiding venom beneath their kind exterior.
For a while, they stayed like that, the silence between them neither awkward nor tense, but comforting. It was as if the weight of the world had temporarily lifted, allowing them to simply exist in the moment.
Eventually, Izuku broke the stillness, his voice steadier now, carrying a hint of his usual resolve. "By the way," he began, pulling back slightly to glance up at her, "Principal Nezu said he'd like to meet you."
"He did, huh?" Nemuri murmured, her voice low and thoughtful. She had anticipated this moment—Nezu's insatiable curiosity was bound to lead him here sooner or later. All of yesterday, she had been mentally preparing answers while sitting by Izuku's side, rehearsing how to handle the inevitable questions. She only hoped her preparations would hold up when it mattered.
"Also, Principal Nezu... I kind of—"
"Hey," Nemuri interrupted softly, cutting Izuku off mid-sentence. She smiled down at him, warm and reassuring. "It's going to be all right. No need to worry."
Stepping back slightly, she gave him a once-over, smoothing down his unruly green hair with gentle hands and adjusting his blanket. "This isn't the first time I've faced Nezu, you know," she added, her tone lighthearted yet confident.
"But—"
Izuku's protest was promptly silenced as Nemuri cupped his face in her hands, her palms resting firmly against his cheeks. Her eyes locked onto his, unwavering and filled with quiet resolve. "Everything is going to be fine," she said firmly. "Stop being such a worrywart."
Her thumbs brushed his cheeks briefly before she straightened, letting her hands fall away. Turning on her heels, she strode toward the door with purpose, her confidence radiating with each step.
"Wait! Ms. Nemuri! Ms. Nemuri!" Izuku called after her desperately, his voice rising in urgency. But she didn't look back, her stride unbroken as she disappeared out the door without a second glance.
Izuku sprang out of bed, intent on following her, but froze when the door opened again—this time to reveal Recovery Girl stepping into the room.
"Where do you think you're going, young man?" Recovery Girl's stern voice cut through the room, her no-nonsense tone making Izuku freeze mid-step.
"I—" Izuku began, only for his protest to die in his throat as she pulled out a steel stick seemingly from nowhere, tapping it ominously against her palm.
"On. The. Bed," she said firmly, each word punctuated with an air of finality that left no room for argument.
Izuku groaned inwardly, his shoulders slumping in defeat. With a resigned sigh, he slapped his forehead and trudged back to the bed, climbing onto it reluctantly. Why did women have to be so stubborn? Izuku flopped back against the pillows, grumbling softly but wisely deciding not to push his luck further. Hopefully, Nemuri was right, and she would be able to manage what Nezu was going to dish out next.
Nemuri stood before Nezu's office, her gaze fixed on the door as determination sparked in her eyes. She inhaled deeply, steadying herself, then rapped her knuckles against the polished wood.
"Come in," a gentle voice invited from within.
Sliding the door open, Nemuri stepped inside, a flood of nostalgia washing over her as she took in the familiar surroundings. Memories stirred—countless pranks and admonishments she'd faced in this very space. Though the office now bore Nezu's distinct personality, its core essence had remained unchanged over the years.
To her left, a tall shelf hugged the wall, its open compartments housing gleaming trophies. These accolades celebrated U.A.'s unmatched legacy as the nation's premier Hero Academy. By the time the institution was just two decades old, it had claimed so many of these awards that it was eventually barred from competing altogether. Yet, even in the absence of fresh trophies, U.A.'s reputation stood unshaken. It remained a symbol of excellence, both as the country's leading Hero Academy and as one of the most respected institutions globally.
Directly opposite the entrance, a series of framed photographs adorned the wall. Each captured the visage of a former Principal, a visual reminder of the history of leadership that had guided U.A. over the years. These images weren't merely decorations; they served as solemn reminders to future leaders of the values U.A. stood for, and the countless sacrifices made to uphold them.
The room was dotted with personal touches that reflected Nezu's peculiar tastes. Small potted plants occupied every corner, their lush greenery adding a serene vibrancy. Even the shelves were adorned with them, creating an almost garden-like atmosphere.
"Nemuri," came a cheerful, high-pitched voice.
She turned to her right and saw Nezu seated behind an oversized desk, looking exactly as she remembered him—bright eyes brimming with curiosity and a seemingly perpetual smile that teetered between welcoming and enigmatic. Two computer monitors sat atop the desk, alongside yet more potted plants.
"Nezu," Nemuri greeted, offering a stiff nod. She attempted a bright smile, but it faltered, landing somewhere between polite and uneasy. Nearly a decade had passed since they last met, and their final exchange had been anything but cordial—a heated argument filled with sharp words and frustration. The memory made her shift uncomfortably. "Good morning."
"Good morning to you too," Nezu replied with a chuckle, his tone light and unbothered. "Please, have a seat."
Nemuri nodded once more and crossed the room in a few purposeful strides. Pulling out the chair opposite Nezu, she sat down, trying to relax her tense shoulders.
As she settled, Nezu picked up a delicate porcelain cup, stirring a spoon in it with deliberate precision. With a small flourish, he slid the cup across the desk toward her.
"Herbal tea. Sugar-free," he announced with a knowing smile. "Just the way you like it."
"Thanks," Nemuri said, accepting the tea. She held the cup carefully, her gaze drawn to the rich green liquid inside. Tendrils of steam curled upwards, carrying a soothing, herbal aroma that tickled her senses.
"Did you get proper sleep last night?" Nezu asked, his focus on his own cup as he lazily stirred its contents with a small silver spoon.
Nemuri hesitated, then answered softly, "As well as I could, given the circumstances." Her voice barely rose above a whisper, but the weight of her words lingered.
Nezu nodded, his stirring slowing to a stop. "It must have been frightening to see the child bleed like that," he said, his tone even, though his words carried a sharp undertone. "No child should bleed like that, right?" He swirled the tea in his hands, watching the liquid ripple.
"Yeah," Nemuri murmured, lowering her gaze to her cup.
"Mind if I ask who he is?" Nezu asked, taking a measured sip from his cup, his sharp eyes peeking over the rim.
"His name is Izuku Midoriya," Nemuri replied, a faint smile tugging at her lips.
"I see…" Nezu said thoughtfully, setting his cup down with a soft clink. "So, how did you meet him? Did you adopt him or something?"
A sudden flush of color warmed Nemuri's cheeks. "N-No, no. Nothing like that," she stammered, her words tripping over themselves. "I—I met him on the streets."
It wasn't a lie. She had met Izuku on the streets—just not in the way Nezu was likely imagining.
"Streets, huh?" Nezu muttered, his tone uncharacteristically subdued. It was only then that Nemuri noticed the absence of his usual cheer. Even yesterday, despite the gravity of the situation, there had been an undeniable brightness to his voice—a warmth she found unsettling in its absence now.
"Must have been difficult for the child," Nezu continued, his voice now devoid of inflection, "to be raised in such harsh environments."
"Yeah," Nemuri murmured, her grip tightening on the delicate porcelain cup. She didn't need to imagine the difficulties; she had seen them. Izuku's life as a vigilante, tirelessly pursuing his mother's killers, was etched vividly in her mind. It was heart-wrenching to think of how he'd been manipulated, his sense of justice warped until revenge felt like the only path forward.
"Who knows what kind of demons roam the streets," Nezu said, his measured tone like a blade cutting through the air. "It is a miracle for the child to survive this long without one of the darker forces sinking their claws into him."
Nemuri's breath hitched, her chest tightening as unease bloomed within her. Sweat beaded on her forehead, her pulse quickening. Did Nezu know something? Could he possibly have uncovered Izuku's truth? No, it couldn't be. The Government had gone to great lengths to bury every trace of Izuku Midoriya's existence. This had to be a coincidence—a stray observation rather than a pointed insinuation.
Swallowing the lump rising in her throat, Nemuri raised her cup and took a small sip of the herbal tea, hoping the soothing warmth might steady her fraying nerves.
"Say," Nezu began again, setting his cup down with deliberate care. He leaned forward, resting his elbows on the desk, and laced the fingers of his small paws together. His chin came to rest on them, his beady eyes glinting with unsettling sharpness. "You wouldn't happen to be missing some… detail, would you?"
Nemuri froze mid-motion, the tea just shy of her lips. "Huh?" she muttered, blinking rapidly. "I—I don't think I understand," she stammered, her voice faltering.
"Oh, I don't know," Nezu replied, his words seemingly casual but laced with an edge that made Nemuri's stomach churn. His piercing gaze locked onto her, dissecting her every move. "Perhaps something about a certain little Vigilante wreaking havoc around town?"
Nemuri's fingers trembled, her grip on the cup loosening. She barely caught it before it slipped from her hands. Her breath came quicker now, shallow and uneven. He knew. Nezu knew about Night Crawler. But how? She scrambled for answers in her mind, panic rising like a tide. There was no way anyone could have connected Izuku to Night Crawler—not with the Government's meticulous cover-up. So how had Nezu found out?
"W—What—" Nemuri's attempt to deny it faltered before it could fully form. The words refused to come, caught in her tightening throat.
"Now, now," Nezu said, his tone suddenly soft, almost kind, but no less probing. "Why don't you tell me," he continued, tilting his head slightly, "how you came to know that Izuku Midoriya is, in fact, the notorious Vigilante known as Night Crawler? And, of course, why you decided not to fulfill your duty by reporting him to the authorities?"
His words were calm, but each one struck with precision, leaving Nemuri feeling as though the floor beneath her was crumbling away. Nemuri's eyes widened in shock, her breath catching as she stared at Nezu. "H—How… H—How did you—"
"Know?" Nezu finished smoothly, tilting his head ever so slightly. He leaned back in his chair, unlacing his fingers and placing his paws on the armrests. "I have my ways. You should already know that, Nemuri."
"I—I—" Nemuri stammered, her throat constricting as if the words were physically trapped there. What could she possibly say? By the letter of the law, she was guilty—guilty of harboring a vigilante, of obstructing justice, of protecting someone deemed a criminal.
"You know, Nemuri," Nezu continued, his tone deceptively calm, though his gaze remained sharp and piercing. "If the authorities were to learn that you not only knew of Night Crawler's identity but also actively shielded him and are currently sheltering him when he should be in prison, you would face serious charges. Aiding and abetting a vigilante is a grave offense. They wouldn't hesitate to send you to Tartarus."
His words landed like blows, each syllable ringing with an undeniable truth. Nemuri sat frozen, the chair beneath her suddenly feeling like a cage. Her hands trembled, and she gripped the cup tighter, as though it could somehow anchor her to reality.
Her thoughts churned in frantic chaos. How could she salvage this? How could she protect Izuku from being exposed, from being sent back to the prison he had barely escaped once before? The weight of Nezu's words pressed down on her, making it harder to breathe.
For a moment, she closed her eyes, trying to will away the rising panic. There had to be a way to navigate this—something she could say or do to protect him without condemning herself in the process. But the only thing running through her mind, over and over, was the same desperate question: 'How do I keep Izuku safe?'
Nemuri let out a shaky laugh, her hand instinctively moving to the back of her neck in a nervous gesture. "I—I'm sorry, but Izuku is not Night Crawler. Y—You must be mistaken."
"I see…" Nezu said, his tone nonchalant, though his eyes gleamed with quiet intent. "Night Crawler is supposed to be in prison, isn't he?"
"Yes!" Nemuri replied quickly, a flicker of hope lighting up inside her. "Night Crawler is in prison! There's no way he could already be out—not after the crimes he's committed."
Nezu hummed thoughtfully as if he were mulling over her answer. The room seemed to stretch in the silence that followed, tension coiling tighter with every passing second. Then, with deliberate calmness, Nezu spoke again.
"Unless," he said, his voice soft but pointed, "someone freed him."
Nemuri blinked, her breath catching. "Huh?"
"Someone may have bailed him out," Nezu continued, his tone unwavering as he leaned forward slightly. "Or… someone might have helped him escape prison." He let the weight of his words settle before narrowing his sharp gaze at her. "And you might just be that someone's accomplice."
"WHAT?!" Nemuri shot up from her chair, her voice rising in outrage. "Are you accusing me of siding with a villain?! After everything I've done—everything I've sacrificed for this profession—you think I'd stoop that low?!"
Nezu remained unmoved by her outburst, his expression as calm as ever. "Then explain to me," he said, his voice as even as still water, "why is a vigilante staying in your home?"
"Because he is not a vigilante!" Nemuri snapped, her voice rising, tinged with both frustration and defiance.
"Yet," Nezu countered, his tone sharp and unwavering, "all my sources point to Izuku being the vigilante Night Crawler."
Nemuri clenched her fists, her patience fraying. She slammed her palms down on Nezu's desk with a force that rattled the cup of tea. "SO WHAT?!" she roared, her voice trembling with raw emotion as tears brimmed in her eyes. "So, what if he is Night Crawler?"
Nezu studied her carefully, his expression unreadable. This wasn't the Nemuri he knew—the flirtatious, easygoing woman who rarely lost her composure. What stood before him now was something entirely different. She reminded him of a lioness protecting her cub, fierce and unrelenting. It was a side of her that left him conflicted. Should he be concerned by her recklessness, or proud of her maturity?
"He's killed, Nemuri," Nezu said sharply, his voice cutting through the tension like a blade. "He has killed criminals. What kind of child kills people? And what's to say he won't lose control someday—turn on the innocent instead?"
"Because he's not like that!" Nemuri's voice cracked as she shouted, the sheer conviction in her words reverberating through the room. "I know him better than anyone! I know that he isn't that kind of a child!"
Her chest heaved as she glared at Nezu, her emotions laid bare. To her, Izuku wasn't some faceless vigilante or a criminal to be analyzed through statistics and reports. He was a boy burdened by pain, grief, and circumstances far beyond his years. She had seen the goodness in him—the unshakable resolve to protect, even when his methods crossed lines others wouldn't dare approach.
Nezu leaned back in his chair, his paws resting lightly on the armrests. His gaze softened, but his sharp mind remained calculating. He had heard the desperation in her voice, the absolute certainty in her belief. The question now wasn't whether Nemuri was complicit, but whether her trust in Izuku was misplaced—or well-earned.
"How do you know that?" Nezu asked softly. "You've only known him for two, maybe three months at most."
"Because I saved him from committing suicide!" Nemuri's voice cracked as she yelled, her composure finally shattering. Tears streamed down her cheeks. "You know what he said after I stopped him? He told me he wished I hadn't saved him. That I had robbed him of the chance to free this world of a burden! Tell me, Nezu, what kind of child talks like that?!"
Her words hung heavy in the air, her chest heaving with emotion. The room was silent except for the soft sound of her ragged breathing, the weight of her confession pressing down on both of them.
But then something clicked in her mind, a detail she hadn't noticed in the heat of the moment. She blinked, her tear-streaked face shifting into an expression of confusion. "H—How did you know I've only known Izuku for three months?" she asked softly, her voice trembling with suspicion. She didn't remember telling Nezu that, and the realization sent a chill down her spine.
To her shock, Nezu's lips curved into a small, knowing smile. "That," he said, his tone shifting to a playful one, "is because Izuku told me so last night."
Nemuri's heart skipped a beat. "What?" she whispered, her voice hardly audible.
Nezu leaned forward slightly, his smile never faltering. "It seems young Midoriya and I had a rather enlightening conversation," he said calmly, watching Nemuri's reaction with quiet intensity.
(Flashback)
"What?" Nezu murmured, shock and surprise flickering across his face. He quickly chuckled. "Now, now. Lying is a bad habit, you know."
Izuku raised an eyebrow, his gaze steady as he looked down at the shorter creature. "Why would I lie about something like that?"
"Because Night Crawler is supposed to be in prison," Nezu replied smoothly, his tone laced with quiet authority. "I understand you might appreciate his flair, but admiring criminals is hardly something to boast about."
Izuku's lips curled into a slight smirk. "Interesting of you to say that to a criminal in the first place," he remarked with a flat voice.
Nezu narrowed his eyes, wondering if Izuku was only toying with him. It wasn't the first time he'd encountered children exaggerating their way into what they thought was a cool persona. So, he decided to indulge him a bit longer. "So, why do you think you're Night Crawler, Mr. Midoriya?" he asked, his voice a calm invitation for more nonsense.
Izuku's brows furrowed slightly. "Because I am..." he answered simply.
In Nezu's mind, the conversation was starting to feel like a debate with a petulant child, one who wouldn't stop spinning tales to look important. He stretched his lips into a genuine smile, deciding to play along. "I see..." he nodded slowly. "So, if you're truly Night Crawler, then what exactly are you doing here? Shouldn't you be in prison right now?"
"In an ideal world," Izuku spoke, his voice tinged with melancholy, "yes. I would be in prison."
"In an ideal world, you wouldn't be a vigilante either," Nezu corrected with a gentle yet sharp smile. "But since we don't live in one, the real question is—why aren't you in prison?"
Izuku let out a sigh, his expression darkening. "That's what I was trying to tell Ms. Nemuri," he said, his voice lowering slightly. "Before the blood..."
"I see..." Nezu murmured, his tone more contemplative. "So, you started bleeding right after you told Nemuri who freed you?"
Izuku shook his head. "No, I couldn't even tell her," he replied quietly. "It was before I could even say a word."
"Interesting," Nezu hummed, deep in thought. He studied Izuku closely. "Can I ask you something?"
Izuku met his gaze for a brief moment before slowly turning his head toward the window, his eyes drifting to the starry sky outside. "Sure."
"Why did you decide to become a vigilante?" Nezu asked, his voice gentle, yet probing.
Izuku stared out into the night, lost in his thoughts for a long while before speaking again, his words slow and heavy. "Because someone told me I could help make this world a better place... And then pushed me down a path that would have just made it worse."
"And let me guess," Nezu tilted his head slightly, his gaze sharp, "this certain someone is the same person you can't name without facing severe consequences?"
Izuku nodded, his face betraying no hint of doubt.
"How much can you say before the restrictions start taking hold?" Nezu pressed on, his curiosity sparked.
Izuku hesitated, weighing his options. He wondered if he could reveal that the President was a woman, but before he could make up his mind, he felt a sudden trickle of liquid down his right nostril. His hand shot up instinctively to wipe it away, and when he glanced at his fingers, they were stained with blood. "I can't even think about..." he tried to speak, but before the words fully formed, blood started to seep from his left nostril as well.
"I understand," Nezu murmured, his tone calm but knowing. Whoever had been pulling the strings on Izuku had taken great care to ensure their secrecy remained intact. "Can I ask you another question?"
"Go on."
"Why did you surrender?"
Izuku's head bowed, his eyes downcast. "Someone opened up my eyes," he answered, his tone small and sad.
"Nemuri, right?"
Izuku's answer was a nod, accompanied by a soft "Yeah."
"How long have you known each other?" Nezu enquired further.
"Two—maybe three months, I guess," Izuku answered.
Nezu hummed in thought. "I think you should go back to your room and try to get some sleep."
Izuku frowned, still in a daze. "Aren't you going to call the police?" he asked, his voice a mix of confusion and weariness.
Nezu gave him a sharp smile, almost playful. "What's the point?" he replied sarcastically. "I'm quite sure whoever saved you will save you again, right?"
(Flashback end)
"If I'm honest," Nezu began casually, his accusatory tone nowhere to be found, "I didn't believe him at first. I thought he was lying, like a petulant child grasping for attention… But judging by your reaction, it seems he was telling the truth after all."
Nemuri stared at him, her tears drying as realization dawned. "So, all this time…" she murmured, her voice laced with disbelief.
"I am sorry," Nezu said, offering her a tight, almost regretful smile. "But I needed the raw information."
Her fists clenched tightly at his words. The rising anger burned away her earlier guilt and confusion. Before she fully processed her decision, her body moved on instinct. With surprising agility, she vaulted over Nezu's desk, landing beside him in one fluid motion. In an instant, her hand whipped across his face, the sharp crack of the slap echoing through the room.
Nezu rubbed his stinging cheek, his expression unchanging, save for the slightest wince. "I deserved that," he admitted calmly.
"When will you realize it's not right to toy with people's emotions?!" Nemuri shouted, her voice shaking with anger. "You pulled the same stunt last time, and now you've done it again! I'm tired of being treated like a pawn to sate your curiosity. I'm not some object, Nezu—I'm a human being! You might not care about feelings, but I do! And I'd like to think that one day, you will too!"
The words spilled out before she could stop herself, her frustration pouring out in a torrent. It was only when the silence settled around them that the weight of her outburst hit her. Her eyes widened, and a pang of guilt pierced through her rage.
"I—I…" she stammered, her voice faltering. "I'm—" But the words of apology stuck in her throat, the heat of her emotions refusing to completely subside.
"No, no," Nezu interrupted gently, raising a paw to stop her. "I understand where you're coming from. Sometimes it's difficult for me to relate to humans… considering I'm not one myself."
Nemuri stood silently, the weight of guilt pressing down on her. She hated tearing people down, especially those she cared about. And Nezu—even after all these years apart—still held a soft spot in her heart.
"Will you accept my apology, Nemuri?" Nezu asked, his voice softer now, carrying a hint of vulnerability.
"No," Nemuri replied firmly, her tone still tinged with bitterness. "Not so easily."
Nezu nodded as if he had anticipated her response. "I already know what you're going to ask," he said calmly. "You want my help to protect Izuku Midoriya from whoever might be after him, don't you?"
Nemuri's lips parted slightly in surprise, but the shock faded almost immediately. This was Nezu, after all. His intellect was unparalleled, and she should've known he'd piece things together long before she could voice her intentions.
"I can help you," Nezu continued, his tone taking on a serious edge. "But for that, I will need your help as well."
Nemuri brushed away the last remnants of tears from her face and straightened her posture. Determination sparked in her eyes as she looked at Nezu. "I'll help in any way I can," she said, her voice steady and resolute.
With a purposeful stride, she walked around the desk and retook her seat opposite him. She met his gaze with unwavering resolve, ready for whatever plan he had in mind.
"First of all," Nezu began, his expression grim as he turned to face Nemuri, "do you have any suspicions about who might be trying to manipulate Mr. Midoriya?"
Nemuri shook her head, her brow furrowed in frustration. "I don't know," she admitted. "But it was strange how quickly the government moved to bury anything related to Night Crawler. They didn't just want him out of the spotlight—they wanted him erased."
"I expected as much," Nezu said with a nod. his tone was calm but laced with concern. "Anyone willing to harm Mr. Midoriya just to protect their secrets is no ordinary individual. They will undoubtedly have political connections." A low hum escaped him as he contemplated further.
Nemuri's hands tightened into fists. "What should we do, then?" she asked, her voice carrying a hint of desperation.
"We need to tread carefully," Nezu replied, his gaze growing distant as if mapping out a labyrinth of possibilities in his mind. "There are very few people with the kind of power and connections necessary to orchestrate this, and those individuals won't hesitate to silence us if they feel threatened."
Nemuri leaned forward, her frustration bubbling to the surface. "But that doesn't mean we can just sit here and do nothing!"
"And we won't," Nezu assured her, his voice sharpening with resolve. "But charging in recklessly will only lead to our downfall, and Mr. Midoriya's. Sometimes, laying low and moving in the shadows allows you to strike at the heart of the problem far more effectively than making noise on the surface."
Nemuri bit her lip, her frustration warring with the logic in Nezu's words. "So what's the plan?"
"We start by identifying the players involved," Nezu said, his tone thoughtful but determined. "The ones pulling the strings. I will leverage my resources to gather intel, but we must stay under their radar. If we make even the smallest misstep, it could spell disaster—not just for us, but for Mr. Midoriya as well."
Nemuri nodded, the weight of his words settling heavily on her shoulders. "Just tell me what you need me to do," she said firmly.
"We'll address that later," Nezu said, his tone calm but pointed. "For now, what do you plan to do with him?"
Nemuri lifted her head to stare at the Principal, her brow furrowed. "What?"
"Mr. Midoriya," Nezu clarified. "What do you plan to do with him?"
"I—I don't think I understand," Nemuri replied, her confusion evident.
"You mentioned you haven't adopted him," Nezu said matter-of-factly. "Do you plan to adopt him?"
Nemuri's gaze dropped, sorrow settling over her like a heavy cloak. "I don't think that's a good idea, Nezu," she admitted quietly.
"And why is that?"
"You know who I am, Nezu," Nemuri bit out bitterly, her voice heavy with self-reproach. "What I am. How I am. You can't possibly think I'm suited to adopt Izuku."
"Is that it?" Nezu asked, his voice carrying a hint of disbelief. "Are you seriously going to stop yourself from adopting him just because of who you are?"
Nemuri shook her head, her hands gripping her knees tightly. "You don't understand," she said, her voice trembling with guilt. "I'm an X-rated heroine, Nezu. My entire career has been built around an image that isn't exactly… motherly. Someone like me has no business raising a child, especially not a boy like Izuku. He's been through so much. He deserves better than what I could ever give him."
Nezu's gaze softened as he observed her, noting the weight of guilt and self-doubt etched into every line of her face. He leaned forward slightly, his tone gentle but firm.
"Yet, you're the one who set aside your ego and brought Mr. Midoriya here for treatment," Nezu pointed out softly. "You're the one who shed tears while he lay unconscious. You're the one who comforted him. You were there when he needed someone the most."
"I'm sure anyone would've done that," Nemuri countered weakly.
"But they didn't," Nezu replied, his words carrying a sharp finality. "You did."
Nemuri sat frozen, Nezu's words cutting through the doubts and defenses she'd built around herself. Her mind swirled with indecision. She had spent countless hours debating whether she should adopt Izuku, only to always come back to the same answer: no. It wasn't because she didn't care—she cared too much. She was terrified she'd fail him. Better to let him grow up in an orphanage, she thought, than with someone like her. Someone with her baggage, her flaws. And her quirk… it didn't exactly lend itself to motherhood.
"But at the end of the day," Nezu continued, his voice softening, "the decision is yours and his. I'm just a third party in all of this. Still…" He offered her an assuring smile, his small face radiating an unexpected warmth. "If I were to give my opinion, I would much rather see Izuku raised by someone like you than by people who couldn't possibly understand his struggles."
Nemuri's hands trembled as she clenched them into fists, her mind warring with itself. A part of her wanted to believe Nezu, to trust his wisdom. But the insecurities that gnawed at her were not so easily silenced. She glanced up at him, her eyes glistening with unshed tears.
"You really think I could be good for him?" she asked, desperation etched in her voice.
Nezu smiled and said, "You already are."
Chapter End
Next Chapter: Does Nemuri adopt Izuku? Or do her insecurities get the better of her? Find out in the next chapter…
