Chapter 9: The Sage and his Son
"And how have you been feeling since then? Nervous, anxious? Are you afraid that another is coming?" Dr. Fujimaki asked. Izuku rolled the question around in his head for a long time. Today was the first time he wasn't sitting in one of Fujimaki's nice chairs; instead, he lay on his back. It was a more vulnerable position, but the physical comfort it gave him exceeded his distaste.
It'd been a few days since he'd seen Kacchan. The following day, he'd been able to break down, in brief detail, the events that'd transpired. In response, his mother had told him about Nighteye's message, and how she believed he should cancel. He'd wrestled with the decision all morning, but with his mother supporting him, he decided he wanted to postpone. No matter how excited he'd been for the meeting, doing anything that nerve-wracking so soon after Tuesday made him want to keel over.
He hadn't done so much as a mile of running in the meantime, instead locking himself in his room and practicing Smokescreen. Every action irritated him except that. Embracing One for All seemed to be the only task that made him feel good; happy, content. Ever since he'd taken Seven's hand, using the quirk had been different. Like some of the fog had lifted, but the paved road had turned to dirt.
For hours, he could sink into the quirk. All the world's problems fell away, and he was content to cocoon in its power. The only downside was that he hadn't been back to the castle. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn't fly away to his little home between dusk and dawn. It sucked; he wanted nothing more than to drop everything and jump down that rabbit hole. He wanted to continue to practice Smokescreen with Six. He wanted to see Seven.
"I… I haven't felt much. I've just been so sleepy all the time." Izuku said. A low hum rumbled out of Fujimaki's throat. His pen made indistinct scratchings on his paper. Izuku's position on the couch gave him a different view than he was used to. Of course, everything was perpendicular, but he also got a clear view of the doctor's desk. It was something he could only study because of the way he was laying; normally, he'd have to crane his neck to look at it.
Littering the man's desk were doo-dads, papers, and lots of pictures. The professionalism of the room's interior did not carry over to his private desk. It looked like an eight-year-old dumped a bunch of science-related toys over the top and decided that was enough.
Gyrodisks, crystals, a Newton's Cradle, and even a few vials of mystery liquid sat under the monitor of his computer. It looked less like a psychiatrist's desk and more of a scientist's. The man continued to hum. The most interesting things, however, were the pictures. In almost all of them, a young girl appeared, usually with the doctor.
One stood out to Izuku the most, however. It wasn't the biggest picture, or the second, but decent sized. It was of the doctor, his silver hair still mostly brown, holding up a teenage girl on his shoulders. The camera angled just enough that the top half of the girl's upper face disappeared, but in its place, your eyes drew themselves to the prominent bronze medal she was proudly displaying. It was a cute picture; they were smiling like they'd just finished laughing. But a second glance would reveal just how amazing the photo was.
The girl was wearing a blue tracksuit, bold white lines running through her uniform. Most people might not've noticed at first glance; the top and pants were filthy. They had scorch marks, mud stains, and the entire right sleeve was missing. Izuku almost hadn't. What keyed him in were the girl's shoes; completely mismatched. They were the same shoe, but they weren't the original pair. While one shoe was filthy and sporting holes, the other was pristine. They were U.A. sports-regulated foot gear. He'd spent enough time studying the school to recognize them anywhere.
The girl was a U.A. student and had apparently done well at a sports festival.
"Hey, Dr. I didn't know you had a daughter. What's her name?" Izuku asked.
"Oh! You're talking about my Sasami. No, she's not a hero." The doctor said, not looking up from where he was still writing his notes. Izuku scrunched up his nose a bit. Sasami? Where had he heard that name before?
They lapsed back into silence for another minute before the doctor decided to continue. Peaking at the discarded clipboard, Izuku saw that he hadn't written all that much.
"So, you're tired. Have you been working out still?" He asked. Izuku looked away.
"I've been practicing my quirk—in my house, of course. But… not really. I haven't seen my mentor all week." He said.
It wasn't that he didn't want to run. In reality, he was actually hurting for a good workout. The problem, though…
"That explains the grogginess. You've been missing out on the dopamine you've gotten used to from exercise. It's making you more tired than it should." He said. There was nothing to deny. Of course, Izuku understood this. It didn't make it any easier. Soon, he would get back on schedule, soon. As soon as he was sure he wasn't going to break down in front of Nighteye.
"Y-yeah, I guess. I'll get back at it soon." Izuku said. He held the doctor's gaze for a moment before looking away. Fujimaki sighed, tugging his glasses off his head to rub the bridge of his nose.
"That isn't it, though, is it? I believe you when you say you're tired. I'll even grant that you probably don't feel much else than that. I've been in this field as long as your mother's been kicking. I have an inkling of what you're going through, my boy. What I'm confused about is why you're scared to go back."
Izuku froze.
"I-I don't know what you mean. I'm not… scared. I'm just giving myself a break." He said.
"Don't lie to me, Izuku. You're entitled to hold your silence when I question you. You will never be forced to admit things to me when you don't want to. But don't lie to me. I'll admit," Fujimaki paused, putting his glasses back on, "your idea of a break is a good one. I was going to recommend one for your next session; you've been hustling for a while and I think this mental vacation is beneficial. But you aren't taking a break for the sake of it. It just isn't who you are."
"M-m-my…" Izuku said, unable to formulate a reasonable response. He didn't know what to say. My quirk? It'd been acting weird, out of character for a while. My mentor? He could look Gran Torino in the eyes just fine. My… friend? Kacchan wasn't really… one of those. His stomach twisted itself in knots as he allowed himself to think of all the reasons he'd been avoiding Nighteye's warehouse. Maybe, he entertained, he was a little scared. Dr. Fujimaki held up a hand.
"Don't tell me. There's a lot to unpack here, and I don't want to start here, where we're so riled out. I just have one piece of advice. But first, tea?" The man said. Izuku looked at him wide-eyed. He gave a small nod. The doctor smiled, before excusing himself to the other side of the room. It was a small kitchenette, with just about every kind of beverage Izuku could think of.
The doctor was very meticulous about his tea, Izuku had learned. He'd had it a few times before, and each time had been a long, tranquil process. Boiling the water, soaking the bags, draining what's left. It was a solid brick of time to unwind in the middle of a heated session.
Sitting up, Izuku wrestled with his anxiety while watching the older man. He hadn't realized it, but he was nearly crying; when he blinked, his eyelashes got moist. Reaching up his cheek and patting around his face, he found the dam hadn't broken. It hadn't since the train.
One for All purred under his skin, revving his engine.
"Yeh!" Izuku gasped, jerking in his seat. Something touched the palm of his—hand. Left hand. Dr. Fujimaki threw a quizzical eyebrow over his shoulder. Izuku shook his head.
"Uhhh… phantom s-sensation. Sorry." He said. The older man shrugged.
"Don't worry about it, boy. Perfectly normal."
One for All shifted in his stomach again; at the same time, he felt the phantom sensation again. It felt like something was tickling his palm; not unpleasant, but disconcerting. He scratched at the prosthetic, knowing it wouldn't do anything.
The feeling spread to the in-betweens of where his fingers would be. A strange warmth flowed through him; his worries fell away somewhat. They weren't gone, but they were more manageable.
Dr. Fujimaki came back, now with steaming tea. Taking one, Izuku thanked the man before taking a sip. It stung, but the heat trickling through his nostrils was soothing.
"You've been through a lot, Izuku, and your current mindset is totally understandable. I don't know for certain about anything that runs through your head, but I have suspicions." He said, breaking to sip his tea. Izuku sat in rapt attention, trying to embrace the odd feeling in his ghost limb rather than let it bother him.
"Suspicions?"
"Indeed. Maybe this is the wrong word, but you seem… scared. Scared to go back to your little facility, scared to go back to the train. Scared of breaking down." Dr. Fujimaki said. Izuku's tea mug paused at his lips. The brown liquid was pleasant on the eyes.
"I-I… Shouldn't I be? It just… jumped me. Randomly. How can I be sure that it won't happen a-again?" He asked, putting his mug on the tray. His eyes bore holes into the table; he was already preparing a retort to whatever kind of advice the man was cooking up. He'd received enough sagely advice from strangers in the past to know where this was going. The doctor took another sip.
"You can't." He said. Izuku choked, whipping his gaze back to the older man. Fujimaki was giving him a soft look, not pity or love, but encouragement.
"H-huh!? W-w-what—" Dr. Fujimaki held up a hand, silencing him.
"You can't be sure that you won't have another slip-up, not for a long time. That's why you have to be brave… sometimes."
"I-I d-d-don't u-understand?" Izuku said. Something about the way the doctor said it had sent his heart a flutter. The itchiness in his phantom palm morphed, becoming less of an active tickle and more of a static pressure. He let out an uneven sigh as the doctor put his teacup down.
"My boy, I think you've made more sacrifices than most of the people I've ever had the pleasure of working with. Of course, many of these sacrifices were nonconsensual and I hate to ask you to make more, but… Your routine is important. You've been clear; you want to be a hero, and you're going to work hard to mold yourself into one. I think that's fantastic; frankly, I think your conviction is magnitudes higher than anything I could ever muster myself. But what do heroes do the most? Go on, I would like an answer to that, please." Fujimaki said. Izuku felt a shiver go up his spine as an inkling of the doctor's intention crept through. It took him more time to blink than to think of an answer.
"They… make sacrifices." The doctor clapped, a smile forming on his face.
"Of course! Yes, they make sacrifices. We've already talked about self-preservation, obviously, but you get my meaning. They sacrifice much more than their life; they risk their private life, health, mental well-being, and most interpersonal relationships. You, I am sad to say, will have to make one major sacrifice earlier than most." The doctor said.
"What would… what is it?"
"Your fear. At least in part."
"...Huh?" Izuku asked. Everything the doctor had said made sense up until that point, but that threw him for a loop. You couldn't sacrifice fear; that was immaterial, ingrained within you. It wasn't like their health or their friendships. Those were real, measured things. Izuku wouldn't know a thing about erasing of an emotion. Fujimaki thread his fingers together.
"No hero lives without fear. I'm not saying you can erase or let go of it. I'm saying that they all have overcome it to an extent. Embraced it. You have, too, if we want to talk about the Tokage incident. You jumped a live gunner." The doctor said. Izuku was dumbfounded; standing, he put his hand out, shaking them.
"I-I was scared out of my mind, then! My quirk manifested because I was so scared! Fear basically fueled me!" Izuku said, his voice an octave higher than normal. Fujimaki chortled.
"Yes, and then you still tackled him anyway. My boy, bravery isn't about not being scared; it's about being afraid and overcoming it. Tell me, who is braver? The bulletproof hero facing a druggie with a machine gun, or a very vulnerable young boy? Who requires more willpower to do what needs to be done in that situation?"
"... The boy."
"Yes, and if you saw that young boy tackle a gunman, what would you call him?"
"...Brave. Stupid." Izuku said. Fujimaki let out another laugh. He motioned Izuku to sit back down, before waving his hand over his face like a fan.
"Yes, stupid may be an appropriate term, but I prefer brave. You, Izuku, were brave enough to handle getting shot, but now you're grappling with traveling a few dozen miles by train." Any confidence Izuku had accumulated in the last minute snuffed itself out. He leaned back into the couch, deep enough that he could see the headrest in the corners of his vision. The pressure on his ghost hand increased for a second, like something gave him a brief squeeze. Fujimaki frowned, shaking his head.
"No, you misunderstand. You haven't regressed; you simply aren't applying your bravery strategically." He said. If Izuku had even the slightest grasp of this conversation, that grasp was gone.
"Applying… my bravery? Strategically?" I don't…" Izuku said, trailing off.
"Yes, strategically. Think of bravery like a muscle. You can only lift so many things before you need a break. You can train to get bigger muscles in the long term, of course, but for now, let's just think about it how it is. There's a limited amount of bravery to throw around on the daily." The doctor paused to down the rest of his tea. Izuku, however, was starting to feel excited. It was starting to click again.
"I think, Izuku, that you need to pick your battles. You're going to have to risk exposure, I'm sorry. You can't avoid the world just because it reminds you of your trauma; that's just life. But you don't have to force yourself to face every possible scenario every day. Avoid people like Bakugo after a day of training. Take the bus more often. Train by yourself some days. You can't avoid them all entirely, but you don't have to risk them all every day." Dr. Fujimaki finished. Izuku leaned forward in his seat, his mind running a mile a minute.
Honestly, he'd been scared. Tackling every day had just seemed so hard after the train. It was easy, he'd figured, to just hide away. He cowered behind a smokescreen and pray life would slip right over him.
He should've thought of this sooner. It was something he did every day; breaking down problems into smaller chunks and solving them individually. Not only was it faster, but it was less stressful. He didn't do his academics while he ran, nor did he practice Smokescreen while he studied—though maybe…
Izuku finally recognized the odd feeling in his hand once One for All shifted again. It'd taken him almost ten minutes to figure out what the sensation reminded him of, but it'd finally clicked. The warmth, the pressure, the tingling between his fingers, it was something he'd experienced dozens—hundreds, of times.
It felt like someone holding his hand.
He held still, trying his best to hold back the dam that'd been building all week, but it was fruitless. A choked sob escaped his lips, and that was the end of that.
[x]
Shoto Todoroki was quiet. He'd always been quiet; his small family had enough personality to run a circus on their mellow days. It was something he did reflexively, being silent. Describing him as timid or stoic would be wrong; he, too, had a lot of pent-up emotions. Being passionate was a fact of Todoroki life.
For a long time, it'd been to fly under the radar. When he was younger, he was more of a successful experiment by his parents than a son. Gaining his perfect quirk, Half-Hot Half-Cold, in the wake of his brother's death had made his early years hell. His mother had broken and his father had grown wrathful.
Like his quirk, his parents had balanced his childhood with half-hate and half-love. So when his love-half had cracked and dunked him in boiling water, he knew that it'd be safer to just pull away. Sure, hanging out with his siblings might be fun, but he didn't want to risk them picking up his burdens. So, as long as his father acted like a drill sergeant, he'd soldier on without them.
Then his father had become the number one hero, and that all went out the window. Both of their lives had done a complete 180. Endeavor had to change to fit the mold, and therefore Enji Todoroki had to change as well.
Whereas Shoto spent seven hours a day training his quirk before, now he'd do a measly one and a half. He had personal time, now; it was a novelty he'd never considered before, but now that he had it, he couldn't live without it. While much of that old training time was dedicated to his growing personal interests, his father had made it clear that he'd also need to expand his education. It was annoying, but he couldn't say he hated it.
"So this symbol is a delta, which—yes, I know it's just a triangle, but hear me out—" His tutor was explaining something to him, but he wasn't really listening. They sat in the corner of an empty lecture hall, dozens of papers and two laptops between them. His tutor, Chika, was a big-wig teacher's assistant at Shimisuka, the biggest Quirk School outside of Tokyo.
During and after lunch, this lecture hall was empty five days a week, and the professor didn't mind them using the space for it. In fact, she usually was in the room with them while they did it. He didn't really get it, but she'd once said without white noise she'd go insane. He glanced over to the woman's desk with his bad eye; relatively speaking. Both of his eyes functioned well, but after having one splashed with boiling water, it gave things an off-color edge. Through the orange fuzz surrounding the woman, he could make out a sour expression on her face.
His tutor paused in her rambling, giving him an annoyed look. His father paid her tuition on the condition Shoto actually learned. Every minute he didn't, she risked having her free ride get pulled out from under her. Understandably, that left her a little short with him on most days. Still, even his short-tempered tutor was curious about her teacher's foul mood.
"Ms. Fuji? How're you doing?" She called over, closing her laptop. Shoto emulated her but refrained from speaking up. When the professor looked over at them, Shoto got a better view of her face.
At one point in time, Ms. Fujimaki must've been beautiful; drop-dead gorgeous, even. If she turned her face to their right, you could still call her that. Her left profile was quite pleasant, as was her right cheek. Unfortunately for her, she and Shoto were twins. A gnarly, viscous scar had taken her eye and most of the flesh above it. He had decided on the first day of meeting her that he liked her. He knew exactly how much that kind of wound sucked.
"That damned Sasaki messed up my plans for today. He begged and pleaded for an hour of my time, calling in all the favors he had. The reason your class was canceled today was that I agreed; I would meet his little prodigy. Then! Then he had the nerve to reschedule last minute. The last minute! Well—he was actually pretty snappy with his rescheduling, but I had already cleared my day. Now I'm bored." Ms. Fujimaki said, planting her forehead on her desk. Shoto's tutor gave her teacher a chimera look; a mix of sympathy and exasperation.
"Wait, aren't you booked all of next week? When did you reschedule?" She asked. The professor blinked.
"Crap. Oh—damn. The Showcase is next week, isn't it? Well…" The woman said. She extended her fingers, ticking one by one as she muttered to herself. She knocked down four fingers, leaving her with just her pinky.
"Friday. It was supposed to be today, but we agreed to just bump it back a week. But… Yeah, that doesn't check out. Ugh." She said. Shoto looked at her, then back at his tutor. A devious plan formed in his head.
"Wasn't my next session going to be next Friday during lunch? Why don't we all have lunch here while you meet this guy?" Shoto said, his voice as passive as possible. His tutor whipped around to face him, her eyes blazing. Shoto shrugged, she wasn't hurting for cash, and it was only one session. She wouldn't lose her job over something so small. Sure, his dad might've roasted her alive last year, but last year he wouldn't have been tutored like this anyways.
"Absolutely n—"
"That's a great idea, Todoroki. We might have to cut it short, but it doesn't need to be very long. I'll be able to judge the kid within the first five minutes anyways. Geniuses aren't good at hiding their genius." The professor looked over at her student, silently challenging her opinion. Shoto had learned the big-wig professor was confident, aggressive, and confrontational.
His tutor held her gaze for a moment, not bothering to hide how annoyed she was. The professor knew her tutoring was how she paid the bills. Still, she caved. Ms. Fujimaki nodded in appreciation. Spinning in her chair, she began typing out an email in her typical aggressive manner. Shoto wrinkled his nose; an abrasive odor snaked his way into his nostrils.
"Cool. I'll ask Ms. Shiozaki to curve your grade upwards this quarter." That seemed to lighten her mood, and soon they went back to his math work. Todoroki wasn't the studious type, but he picked up on math decently well, and his father enjoyed seeing his proficiency with it increase every month. Quirk theory was completely beyond him, which made the fact that he was learning in a quirk college somewhat funny. Whatever kid the professor was meeting must be some kind of gift from the gods.
When they were done packing up and about to leave, Shoto wandered over to the professor's desk. He knew it wasn't his place to pry, but he was curious.
"Ms. Fujimaki? Who's the kid you're going to be reviewing?" He asked.
"Oh! Hold on a second…" The woman pulled something up on her second monitor before spinning it around to face him. It was a digital overview of the boy, with a file labeled "Insights" attached at the bottom. Taking one glance at the profile, he was a little underwhelmed. Izuku Midoriya looked like just about any and everybody, minus the dark bags under his eyes and crooked smile. He was about to head on out before his eyes caught something towards the bottom.
"He's only ten?"
"Apparently. Have a nice day!"
Hmm.
Chapter 10: Taskmasters
Two weeks after the train incident, Izuku was biting his nails. He wasn't much of a nail-biter, but his nerves were getting to him. Today would be a lot; it would be the first time he'd see Nighteye since giving him his notebook, and he would meet with the professor. He was reading and rereading his notes, shoving more and more thoughts into the margins.
A warm hand rested on his shoulder; he relaxed, leaning into it. His mother hummed and short tune, not saying a word. She didn't need to remind him to be calm, she was just reminding him that she'd be there for him.
A knock at the door ripped him out of his brief tranquility. He'd been nervous about this, more than the meeting with the professor. If he reacted severely, then he didn't know how he would continue to train with him. Taking in a deep breath, he shook his mother off before she could go open the door. Marching across the apartment himself, he opened up the door while closing his eyes.
"Hello, Midoriya. Ms. Midoriya." Nighteye said. Izuku gulped at the man's voice. Slowly, ever so slowly, he opened up an eyelid. The man towered over him as always, but where Izuku thought the nerves would ruin him, nothing happened. Straightening, Izuku looked at his mentor with both eyes. His stomach felt a bit tingly, but that was it. He smiled.
"It's g-good to see you, sir." Izuku said, smiling. Nighteye, the stone statue he was, returned it. They shook hands.
"Same to you. I hope you're ready to get back to training, the old man and I were missing you." The hero said. Izuku gave him a firm nod.
"Yessir. I'm good to go."
"Fantastic. Ms. Midoriya?" His mother shifted at his question, smiling at their brief guest.
"Yes?"
"Are we all ready?"
"Mhm. Let me lock up."
[x]
The car ride over should've been the easiest part. It should've given mother and son time to gather their bearings as they approached what could be a new step in their lives. It should've been a time for pep talks and advice.
Instead, Inko Midoriya spent most of it white-faced and rock-still. Izuku fared better, having experienced the man's driving often enough, but even he wasn't immune to the kickback. The man still drove like hell itself was chasing him, and Inko's nerves, for the brevity of the ride, exceeded Izuku's.
By the time they arrived at Shimisuka, Inko had enough. She apologized profusely, but she excused herself to go to the bathroom. No matter how bad she wanted to be there for Izuku, she didn't want to throw up in the middle of the meeting. Promising to get back there as soon as she could, they parted ways in the lobby.
Izuku, for how nervous he was, felt that he had taken it well. Nighteye guided him through the maze that was Shimisuka; three hallways, two elevators, one wrong turn, a set of stairs, two mess halls, and one backtrack later, they arrived. They got about a million odd glances; a disabled young boy and a famous superhero walking around their campus must not happen often.
Still, they found their lecture hall easily enough. Before going in, however, Nighteye pulled him aside.
"Alright, one more thing. The timing of this meeting is unfortunate, so there'll be a handful of students and Sasami having their lunch. If she asks you to use your quirk, make sure you don't blow it in the faces of those eating. We might not satisfy her standards, but we can at least not ruin people's meal." Nighteye said, face grave. Izuku nodded, his heart hammering in his chest.
"Y-yes sir." They'd already gone over this, as well as what her expectations for him were, but the reminder was nice. Nighteye gave his shoulder a touch, nothing like how his mother would, but enough to remind him that the man had his back. Exhaling out his nose, Izuku pushed past his mentor and opened the door himself.
The lecture hall was cool, he immediately noted. It was large, with a window wall and massive green drapes hanging from the ceiling. Between the student seating and the teacher's desk was a ten-meter oval of bare concrete, reminiscent of a miniature colosseum. Drinking in the architecture, Izuku barely noticed the heterochromatic tween in the seats or the girl beside him. Zeroing in on the desk, he walked up with Nighteye in tow.
"H-hello?" Izuku called out.
"Oh! You're here, you're here. Good, good. Sasaki?" A woman peaked out from behind the mountain of paperwork. Instantly, Izuku felt his gut turn. Her face was horrific. Where her right eye and forehead used to be was one massive welt of red, torn-looking flesh. Behind him, Nighteye coughed.
"Sasami. It's… good to see you." The man said, not looking at her. The woman's eye rolled.
"Don't be such a baby. C'mere. Both of you." Without Izuku realizing it, he was already walking up to her desk. Something in the back of his head swirled.
Arriving at the foot of her desk, Sasami stood into a slight bow. It lasted for half a second before she straightened to her full height. While she wasn't as tall as Nighteye, she rivaled him. It made Izuku feel a little odd, he'd only ever seen one woman as tall as this Sasami, and it was on the Star and Stripe poster he had on his closet door.
The two adults seemed to be talking to each other without speaking, leaving Izuku to stand in between them as their silent meanings punched through him. After about ten seconds of this stomach-churning staring contest, Sasami shooed Nighteye away.
"Alright, we're on a time crunch. Go sit yourself, Mirai. Boy." She said, turning to him. "I would like to say it's nice to meet you. I read your notes. They're good." Izuku straightened, his face flushing. He tried to keep his eyes locked on the woman's good eye.
"Th-thank you, ma'am!" He said. Sasami nodded, flicking a finger in the direction of the ten-meter oval. Before Izuku knew it, he was already marching over there. Something smelled odd.
"Your observations are good. That is undeniable. Most brats don't have a clue how their quirk works, let alone ideas on how to improve. But if you think that your notebook would even get a passing grade in my class, you're in for a rude awakening. It's much too cluttered; I could barely stand reading it. Still." The woman said, walking out from behind her desk. Izuku held his tongue. Her words weren't surprising, but they stung a little. He'd worked hard on those notebooks, and hearing her diss them hurt. Sasami began walking around him, tracing the edge of the oval. His nose twitched.
"What's your quirk?" She said as she got directly behind him. Izuku stayed staring at the desk.
"S-smokescreen. I can generate gas out of the pores of my skin. The gas isn't toxic, I can choose the color, regulate output, it disperses at a rate of—"
"Cut the crap, kid. Ten words or less. If you can't condense your thoughts on your own damn quirk, you're wasting my time." Sasami said, cutting him off. Izuku's jaw snapped shut, almost biting his tongue in the process. Ten words or less? He wasn't sure what to say; quirks were so complicated, how was it even possible to…
It took effort, but he glanced behind him. Sasami had already started walking again, still observing him like he was her next meal. He made eye contact with Nighteye, asking for help. The man offered him one thing; a single, sharp nod. Izuku exhaled.
"I, um—"
"Eight." Sasami said, startling him. He frowned. This test sucked. Holding his tongue, he began counting on his fingers as he tried various sentence combinations. It was hard; he wasn't very elegant with words, and his vocabulary could use some work. A minute ticked by as Izuku struggled with his eight-word limit, Sasami stalking him like a tiger all the while.
It took him another two before he had something good enough. The effort sent more sweat pouring down his back than running the obstacle course did.
"I grow the leftover gases I breathe." He said, wiping the back of his hand against his forehead. Sasami stopped her march as she got in front of him. Her expression was cold, calculating if she liked his answer or not.
"You have one word left. Anything else to offer?"
"Nervous." At that, the woman chortled. Izuku mirrored it. Behind him, he heard a few small laughs. The stench had grown; it burned like someone held a glass of chemicals under his nose.
"So, you know the basics of your quirk. How'd you figure it out? Keep it brief, please; no word limits, though." Sasami asked. Izuku nodded, thankful that he could speak freely.
"I figured it was either food or air because I'd shrivel up every time I use it otherwise. It's…" Izuku glanced at Nighteye. "Supplemented by my… stamina, yeah, but the actual material mostly comes from my lungs. If I don't breathe while using it, I get short on oxygen really fast." He said. The professor nodded, checking her watch. A small scowl nestled on her features.
"Interesting. Here's my proposition, kid. You're smart, I'll give you that, but I won't be impressed unless you prove yourself. If you can figure out my quirk and how it functions, maybe I'll give you an hour of my time next Friday." Behind him, Nighteye coughed. The professor's stern gaze snapped to him, a blush creeping onto her cheeks.
"Get your mind out of the gutter, Mirai! I know you of all people—" She cut herself off, giving Izuku a fake smile. "Ignore me. Now, shoot. What do you think?"
Immediately, Izuku's mind went into fifth gear. He'd had a suspicion arriving that there was something up. Something about the way this interview had gone so far had rubbed him the wrong way; like the situation was more out of his control than it should've been.
Sasami stood perfectly still as Izuku studied her, noting everything. First, her face was scarred horrifically. One orange orb stared at him as he took in the nature of the injury. It looked unclean; like it'd happened quickly and violently. The entire area was a deep red, but the darkest parts were three horizontal lines, one of which cut into her eye. Nothing about her other orifices was out of the ordinary. She was tall, with an athlete's build, but she wasn't shredded. From what peaked out from her clothes, she had a bit of fat on her bones. Her gait confused him, she stood with her shoulders tense but her extremities relaxed. It was like she was ready to take off at any time but knew she didn't need to.
He thought back on their interactions thus far, and how her quirk might've affected her behavior. Immediately, he remembered how she ordered him around, and how he'd listened. Of course, if she asked him to do something, he'd do it. But the way he'd physically responded was what stuck out to him; he'd just done it. No hesitation, no nerves. Izuku liked to think he was receptive to new people, but he knew he wasn't a pushover.
An idea began to form in his head, but he wasn't sure until he took a deep inhale through his nose. It was pleasant; the smell of the room made him feel at home, comfortable. He took a second, exclusively through his mouth. None of those comfortable feelings emerged.
"You… you emit pheromones. Your scent encourages people to listen to you. A passive brainwash quirk." Izuku said, staring the tall woman straight in the eyes. She blinked, her face morphing into a grin.
"Humor me," She began. Izuku plugged his nose. "Show me your quirk."
He had no urge to do so outside of his sense of courtesy. Really, it felt like someone flipped a switch. She seemed nice, and he wanted to be as easy to work with as possible, but the rebellion felt good. He'd figured her out, at least to an extent, and he proved it. She raised an eyebrow at him, making him flush.
"S-sorry." He said, holding out a palm. From the center of it, he allowed a small trickle of Smokescreen to escape. One for All purred under his skin as he let it loose, happy to do something. He willed the smoke to pop out of him from different places, keeping each area localized.
It took a lot of focus, like he was patting his belly and rubbing his head at the same time, but he was able to slightly alter the color of each individual smoke emission. Changing the color of the smoke was a new discovery, but it had drastically changed his understanding of the quirk. There was a lot more to discover, too. He had no clue what kind of limits the ability had, and the idea of exploring every avenue excited him.
"Alright, that's enough, we don't want to risk the sprinklers," Sasami said, waving a hand in front of her face. Izuku cut off Smokescreen, now thinking about all the fun he'd have in the near future exploring and practicing the quirk.
It was such a novelty to have a quirk, he'd realized. He'd lived more than half of his life quirkless, and now he had one—scratch that, he had a few. It was more than he could've ever asked for. All it cost was…
He shook his head. Not today.
While he hadn't been paying attention, Sasami had gotten closer. Taking his arm in her hands, she trailed her fingers over his bare skin, tickling him. She grunted at his giggle, twisting his arm over so the hairy side faced up. She got close; close enough for her eyelash to brush his arm, close enough that her pheromones had started to clog his nose.
"Hmmm. Weird. Your pores are normal-sized. Usually, skin-emitters have warped, uneven pores. Hey, how do you think I emit my pheromones?" She asked, still twisting his arm this way and that. Izuku didn't even think about an answer.
"Your sweat glands. That's where most mammal's hormones are centralized, right?"
"Right on the money. Can I control it?"
"Partially. It gets stronger when you sweat, but that's manipulation, not direct control."
"General radius?"
"Depends, this room is probably soaked with it top to bottom, but in places you aren't at often, probably less than five meters."
"Hmm." She hummed, releasing his arm. Taking a few steps away from another, Sasami marched up to Nighteye, who was watching the exchange with interest. Izuku blinked. There was a kid with white and red hair towards the back, something he only just now took the time to register. He offered a shy wave but didn't get one back.
He wasn't sure what to do; Nighteye and Sasami seemed to be having another silent discussion, the other kid wouldn't talk to him, and he'd left his phone in the car. Izuku was about to settle for just biting his lip in silence when the door creaked open, a green head of hair peaking in.
"Oh! Thank god, this place is a nightmare to navigate. I'm surprised you guys even got here in the first place." His mother said, walking over to him. Sasami glanced at them but spared the older woman no mind.
"So," She whispered, turning them away from the professor, "how is it?"
"She's kind of scary, but she's crazy smart. I can tell." He replied, honest. No matter how freaky her power was, how off-putting her face was, or how she grilled him, Izuku couldn't help but like her. She just had that disabled-but-more-abled-than-you vibe that he loved to see in people.
"Okay, great. How do you think you've done so far?"
"Not a clue. She just hums or grunts at the things I say. I-I've made her laugh, though, so I can't be in her bad books yet." He said. They continued to chat and theorize how it was going for a few minutes, trying their best to not eavesdrop on Nighteye and her. Eventually, though, they heard Sasami approach.
"Ms. Midoriya, hello. I am Sasami Fujimaki." The woman said, reintroducing herself. Izuku froze. He hadn't caught her name on the way in, and he'd forgotten it when his mom had told him earlier. He pivoted, looking up at Sasami.
"F-fujimaki? Like… Dr. Fujimaki?" He asked, not believing his luck. The professor gave him a slow, confused nod.
"My father has his doctorate, yes. He's a therapist…" She glanced down at his prosthetic. "Are you acquainted?"
"No way. Mom, did you—" He whipped around to his mother, who nodded.
"Of course. I thought that was why she accepted the proposal to speak with you." She turned to Sasami, an eyebrow raised. "That was why you accepted, right?"
"No? His notebooks really were quite the find, ma'am. Plus, Mirai and I go… way back. Wait, do you seriously know my father?" She asked, directing her question at Izuku. He nodded. She whistled.
"Small world. Dang. Anyways," She started, "I think that I want to speak with your son again. Kid, please follow." She said. Izuku barely had time to excuse himself before his body forced him to follow the professor. Meeting back up with Nighteye, Izuku once again felt a little awkward. Not only did Sasami and Nighteye have a very tense air between them, but the hero was also starting to look antsy. He guessed sitting in a chair and doing nothing wasn't really in his nature.
"So?" He asked, his voice gruffer than usual. Sasami smirked.
"The kid's a catch, Mirai. I want him next Friday, so long as he brings along a better notebook. Money's not a problem, is it?" She asked. Nighteye shook his head, casually opening his wallet and flicking through a few dozen bills. She plucked a few out without asking, pocketing them.
"Down payment. You'll get it back if the investment falls through early."
Izuku looked between the two, confused. To his eyes, it seemed like Ms. Fujimaki abused her quirk to rob him blind. Nighteye, however, nodded as Sasami turned to Izuku.
"Your quirk analysis was mediocre exclusively because of your formatting. I want a proper essay on my desk by the end of next week. If I like what I see, I'll teach you. On Nighteye's payroll." She said. Izuku's mouth gaped. He looked between the two adults, bouncing between each of their faces faster than he had time to seriously comprehend them.
"S-sir!? You don't have to do that—I thought we were just testing me!?" Izuku asked, dumbfounded. Nighteye adjusted his glasses, nonchalant.
"It was, until the Queen of General Studies decided she wanted you as a disciple." He said, not reacting as Sasami sent him a massive glare. Izuku blinked. Oh right.
"You went to U.A.! And got third place in the Sports Festival!" He said, pointing at the professor. She batted his finger away.
"Would've won, too, if my semi-finalist opponent had a nose. Whatever kid, it's old news anyways." She said, pointing to her eye. "The hero business is out of reach for people like… me." She said, slowing to a stop as she looked at him again, her eyes glancing at his prosthetic.
The silence that followed that statement was awkward. So awkward, in fact, that the professor excused herself, citing paperwork. It seemed like Nighteye wanted to go over and talk, but thought against it. Shooing the Midoriya's into the hall, Izuku only had one more chance to see the room. It seemed that the heterochromatic boy was staring at them, revealing to Izuku the fact that he had a massive facial scar, just like Sasami. As for the professor, she seemed to have planted her forehead down on her desk, paperwork forgotten.
[x]
"So, how go your studies?" His father asked. It was the first time he'd been home in time for dinner in weeks, and Shoto could care less. Dinner with his father had been a tense affair in the past, usually ending uncomfortably for everyone involved. Fuyumi, however, seemed to like their father's question.
"Oh yeah, how was your tutoring today? Is Chika treating you well?" Fuyumi asked, more excited-sounding than their father. His sister adored his tutor; she was her upper classwoman at Shimisuka, and even though their majors were different, they'd spent a lot of time together. During her first semester at school, she'd been like a mentor figure to her; it was the main reason she landed Shoto's tutoring gig. Shoto didn't answer until he finished his noodles.
"We did less than normal today since Ms. Fuji actually had something to do in the room for once. We're halfway through my geometry work, though." Shoto said. A low rumble reached him from the head of their table.
"Hmmm. I thought you said this Chika would work Shoto hard? What stopped you from just working in the library?" He asked, his eyes bouncing from an abashed Fuyumi to a neutral Shoto. Natsuo kept munching, not paying attention.
"Ms. Fuji had some sorta interview for a prodigy or something. The guy was good, too, coming in with a recommendation from Sir Nighteye." Shoto said, not really caring how everyone at the table froze.
"S-sir Nighteye? Did you say—?" Fuyumi asked.
"Why on earth would that brat care about quirk theory?" His father said, his voice shifting into his Endeavor persona for a moment. Shoto shrugged.
"I didn't really ask—or even speak to them, really. Seemed like the kid nailed it, though, Fuji offered him private tutoring." He said. His throat felt a little dry from talking so much. He sipped his tea. Everyone seemed to have a vivid reaction to that, even more than hearing about Sir Nighteye. Fuyumi in particular looked flabbergasted.
"I-I've never had her class, but everyone on campus knows about her temperament. Isn't she a total stickler about her students? I know Chika cried herself to sleep plenty of nights during her class with the woman." She said. Shoto shrugged.
"Beats me."
Dinner continued after that, with Fuyumi fetching three extra bowls for the boys. She seemed to stumble after setting their father's down, however, as if conflicted on what to do next. Normally, she'd grab mom's, but her seat was empty. Only Shoto seemed to notice her blunder. Their father had been staring holes into the table since their discussion.
No one spoke for the rest of dinner; the three siblings got the sense that their father had something on his mind. It left the meal feeling hollow, but nostalgic; like how dinners used to feel before All Might died.
It was only when Fuyumi started clearing the plates that his father spoke, still staring at his half-eaten dinner.
"Nighteye has had something in the works for months. He's been taking more and more time off from patrols and spending less time at the office… What did you say his guy's name was, Shoto?" His father asked, the voice of Endeavor leaking through.
"I didn't. I got a good look at his profile, though. Something like Izoko Midokiya. Seemed my age." Shoto said. His father's gaze whipped up to him, a startled look in his eyes.
"Did you mean Izuku Midoriya?" Endeavor asked, pushing himself into a half-standing position. The wood of the table creaked as the man gripped it. Shoto just nodded, handing Fuyumi his bowl. He didn't know why his dad cared so much.
"I guess." He said, before getting up and walking into the kitchen. It was generally the women's job to clean up around their house, but Shoto liked to help. Fuyumi smiled as she handed him a rag, and the running faucet cut off the sound of the cracking wood in the other room.
"Shoto!?" His father called across the house, "If you see the boy again, speak to him. I want all the details of his little apprenticeship!"
Shoto didn't bother responding.
[x]
Sasami Fujimaki was in her bathrobe when she dialed her father's number. Sure, she thought, she could just click his contact, but the novelty of typing out numbers was just more engaging. Her penthouse was relatively small for a top-floor suite, but it had excellent reception and was cozy for the single woman. The phone only rang once before she heard it click.
"Hey, daddy, how was work?" She asked. Her father responded energetically, telling her about his day. It made her smile somewhat; her father's job often put him in the dumps. Giving out sagely wisdom every day had put grey hairs in his head younger than it should've.
"Good to hear—shoot, I have a question."
"Alright, so, could you tell me if you work with a kid named Midoriya?"
"C'mon, daddy. I spoke to the kid this morning. He told me, well, he implied you were his therapist. What's his deal?"
"Yes, I know about patient confidentiality. But as a one-time favor, can you just spill the beans? I can call Nemuri and finally take us all out to dinner like you wanted…"
"Then I'll come visit too! C'mon, just tell me. He seemed like a nice enough kid, though I might've messed up talking to him."
"Oh, well, Mirai told me the kid wanted to be a hero, and I might've told him about me not being a hero anymore, cause… y'know. He wears a fake arm, right? I felt awful after that. I hope he doesn't mind."
"Well, I think it's unlikely, and probably a stupid idea. He definitely shouldn't be, I'm sure about that, I just feel bad for saying it the way I did."
"...Let's move on. I just had a spa day, and if I think about this for one second longer, I'm gonna find a new wrinkle somewhere. What's the kid's deal?"
"Yes, yes, I promise. It's not like I enjoy gossiping about tweenagers."
"...Oh."
"I, uh… I'll call you tomorrow, dad. Stay safe." She said, hanging up. She let her phone slide out of her hands into the crevices between the couch cushions. She leaned into her hands, elbows on her knees.
"Fucking hell, man."
Her scar burned.
Chapter 11: Discourse Among the Highlords
"Alright, kid, let's see what you got." Ms. Fujimaki said, accepting Izuku's stack of papers. He ended up writing her essay in half the allotted time. Condensing sixty-odd pages of tight writing into fifteen pages sounded hard, but it wasn't. Really, it was just a puzzle with lots of leftover pieces. The notebook had everything he needed, all he had to do was slap a thesis at the top and keep his thoughts organized.
All overwriting, repeated ideas, and typos had been eradicated. He leaned back into his chair, patient, but not nervous. In fact, he felt quite confident. He'd never written anything cleaner or clearer in his life. Still, he felt a trickle of sweat snake its way down his spine when Sasami gave him a raised brow.
"Spaces between paragraphs? Really?" She said. Izuku blushed.
"Uh, the email about essay standardization d-didn't say anything about—"
"Yeah, because it's common sense. How old are you anyway?"
"I'm—"
"Don't tell me, I don't care." She cut him off, going back to her reading. While she was reading, she occasionally marked things off with a variety of pens. Most of them were green or blue, but Izuku was hyper-aware whenever she even glanced at the red pen.
They sat in comfortable silence for about fifteen minutes while she read, leaving Izuku to stir in his thoughts. Glancing behind him, he saw that there were a few students casually talking in the far corners, as well as that same scarred heterochromatic boy from last week. They made eye contact, but the boy looked away before anything came of it.
Slouching in his chair, Izuku pulled out his phone and read the most recent text from Setsuna.
Setsunasaurus: Good luck! Hope you do well. Anyways, I've got a big test today, so I won't be able to chat until school lets out. Call tonight? Video?
Smiling, Izuku shot back an affirmative, on the condition that she'd show off her quirk for him.
Without Setsuna, the only other person he could text was his mom. Since she was at work, Izuku spent the rest of the time fiddling with his phone. Reading the news, reviewing his upcoming training days with Nighteye, and skimming hero videos filled his rare moments between training and thinking. He ignored the way the back of his head burned like someone was watching him. With several personalities in his head, he had gotten good at that.
"So," Ms. Fujimaki asked after a while, "this is quite the essay. It's rough around the edges still, but there's a clearly defined shape to it. I appreciate the cited sources especially. You have no idea how hard it is to get adults to cite, let alone teenagers." She said. Izuku nodded, expecting a longer speel. The woman surprised him by set his essay down and slid it to him.
"You're going to continue to write, rewrite, and rewrite that essay again until it's perfect. Once I'm satisfied with it, I'll be done with you." Sasami said. Izuku looked down at his essay in confusion.
"But… I don't know how to make this better. I put a dozen hours into this! I can't do better without at least another hundred hours!" He said, panicked. Done with him? Had he already wasted Nighteye's time and money? Tears of stress welled up in his eyes as all the effort he'd put into his essay hit him like a truck. He looked at the paper in his hands, sniffling; wasted effort, he supposed. All of it. Sasami gave him a flat expression.
"I mean… yeah? Of course, it's gonna take you hundreds of hours. It's a thesis; I'm going to show you how to do it. That's how teaching works, kid."
Oh, Izuku thought. He wiped away his tears before they had the chance to spill.
"S-so… you're really teaching me?" He asked. Leaning back in her chair, the professor sighed.
"Well, I wasn't joking about how hard it is to make people cite their sources. Besides the paragraph spacing, I honestly wouldn't be able to tell that essay apart from one of my regular students'." She said, pausing to sip her drink. "Your schedule doesn't line up with mine, though. I'm a busy woman, you're a busy, but flexible, brat. So, here's what I'm thinking."
Sasami proceeded to explain to him her thought process on how their meetings should go moving forward. The woman taught mostly morning classes, and while she was free directly after lunch, her day revolved around that break. Having Izuku take up that time would drive her wild. So, her compromise was thus:
"You need one-on-one instruction, and I need to give one-on-forty instruction. I can't tolerate you taking up my break every day, but I think we could manage a few days a week. That depends on if you agree that you'll be a second TA on those days I can't spare."
"What would… how would being a TA work? Can I even do that, since I'm not a student?" Izuku asked. Sasami waved him off.
"I'm the most qualified professor in this joint; no one will care if I let some brat listen in on a quarter of my lessons. If they do, I can just throw my weight around a little bit. All I'm asking is you just fetch me some papers, write some emails, hand out pamphlets, stuff like that."
Izuku shifted in his seat. He liked the offer—scratch that, he loved it. It was the opportunity of his life, to study with an actual professor. The only problem, though, was the logistics. His stub itched.
"That sounds great, but… uhm…" Izuku said, glancing between Sasami, his arm, and the ceiling. "I, uh. You're asking the amputee to carry things around? And type?" He asked, his cheeks flushed and eyes upcast. The professor coughed, planting her feet back on the floor.
"Oh, oh yeah. Well, I'm sure you would be able to figure something out, but yeah. How about you just be my lab rat and we call it a day?"
"That… works for me. Thank you so much." He said, his hand relaxing in his lap. He kept his gaze locked onto the desk as he did an awkward sitting bow. He didn't see the way her eye trailed his prosthetic, or how her own hand ghosted over her face.
"No problem, kid."
[x]
If Izuku was honest, humiliating himself as Sasami's paperboy might've been easier. The first time he'd been in the classroom had been deceptive. No one paid him any mind as Professor Fujimaki bounced across the room as she delved into the complexities of how quirks affected DNA, always moving, never stopping. She'd barely introduced him, only confirming his continued presence for the rest of the semester.
The second time, however, had been totally different. She actually used him as an example, forcing him to turn his quirk on in increasingly complex ways. In a vacuum, it wasn't too bad. Most of his quirk training was exactly what she asked of him. Someone would yell at him to do something with Smokescreen while he did increasingly complex adjacent workouts. Multitasking, complexity, and scale were all avenues of exercise he was familiar with.
Having an audience, however, made it nearly impossible to perform at his best. Standing in front of forty-odd students and trying to show off his quirk, something he was already shy about, was nervewracking and stressful. He could feel their judgemental stares bear on him when he wasn't looking.
Who was this kid? Why is he here? He didn't need to be able to read minds to know what they were thinking. Still, he had agreed to this job, so he tried to suck it up. So long as he paced himself like Dr. Fujimaki said, he'd be fine. He could be brave for an hour and a half.
On the plus side, he'd already learned a lot. While he got the feeling he'd stepped a little deeper into the technicalities than he was familiar with, he wasn't lost. In fact, Izuku had a grasp of everything they spoke about, just to a more basic extent. Remedial classes weren't even necessary, since he still got private lessons every few days.
All in all, it was everything he expected it to be and more. Nothing really surprised him; sure, he was learning things, but nothing contradicted his previous understandings. Nothing shocked him.
Then the white and red haired kid marched up to him and introduced himself.
"Hello. My name is Shoto Todoroki. My quirk is Half-Cold Half-Hot." The boy said, his voice flat. Izuku malfunctioned. Todoroki? As in Endeavor Todoroki?
"Hello… M-my n-name is Izuku Midoriya. My quirk is Smokescreen if you hadn't heard." He said, almost unable to get the words out. The Todoroki boy nodded, turned on a dime, and marched back to his usual seat across the room. Izuku blinked; Sasami was in the bathroom, and the other TA was nowhere in sight.
Having never had such an abrupt conversation, he didn't know what to do. Panicking, Izuku stumbled after the boy, reaching a hand out to grab his wrist.
"Woah! You're cold!" Izuku said, letting go of the boy as soon as the thought registered. Todoroki turned back to him, his face unreadable. Every action the boy took seemed to go in slow motion, like he was carefully considering every movement.
"Yeah. Feel my other hand." He said, offering a hesitant wrist. When Izuku poked it, he gasped.
"Woah! You're warm!" He said. Todoroki blinked.
"Yeah? Half-Cold Half-Hot. It's in the name."
"Wait, so do you have two different generators for each half or one more flexible generator with two halves built for different kinds of outputs? Are your heat resistances constrained to your sides or are you just thoroughly regulated throughout?" He asked. Todoroki blinked at him uncomprehendingly.
"Sure. I'm not really into quirks like that." Todoroki said. Though he didn't turn away this time, Izuku could feel the boy's patience slip further and further away. He didn't know why he wanted to talk to this guy; really, he should go back to reviewing his notes. Something about the boy just pulled him in.
"T-that's cool. Why are you in a quirk college then, if you don't really care about quirks?"
"My sister is a sophomore, and my tutor is her friend. I'm no genius type like you." Todoroki said. Izuku sputtered at that, raising his hand to deny it. The half-and-half boy's eyes flicked to his unmoving arm for a millisecond before locking back onto him.
"I'm no genius; I mean, I'm a little advanced, but the only thing I'm actually okay at is quirk theory. I'm not even officially enrolled." He said. Todoroki was silent for a while, staring holes through him like he was swiss cheeses. Izuku shifted his weight back and forth, uncomfortable with the scrutiny. Finally, the boy sighed.
"I don't really know or care much about you, but I'm you haven't done anything wrong. My dad is a different story. He's always been kind of a bastard, so I'll just tell you." The boy said, deliberate but slow.
"Uhm…?"
"For whatever reason, he's curious about you. He even corrected me when I screwed up your name in front of him."
"O-oh? And your dad is… Endeavor, right? The Number… One Hero." Izuku said, his throat feeling tight. The number one hero, Endeavor… Number one thanks to Izuku. He felt a small pit open in his stomach. Did he know about him from All Might? Was he mad, curious, or even thankful? After all, the man was notorious for challenging All Might's position as the best. Maybe… aiding him in his promotion put him on the man's radar. Todoroki didn't seem to follow his line of thinking, but by stepping back a bit, he knew something was off with Izuku.
"Bingo. Anyways, I'm out. Chika's disappeared on me, so I think I'll go home and grind out geometry. Stay out of my dad's books if you can help it." Todoroki said, before leaving to retrieve his backpack. Izuku let him, lost in thought.
From what Todoroki had said, Endeavor was a bastard. Izuku didn't know much about the man other than a few tidbits, but he definitely remembered the headlines from a few years back when his wife "moved" into an institution. He shuddered; if the Todoroki house was abusive, and the man knew Izuku by name, then he should probably steer way out of the kid's way. That was what logic told him. His gut said otherwise.
So, sucking down all the negativity that'd bubbled to the surface, Izuku caught the boy's sleeve when he tried to walk past him. Holding the edge of his phone out, Izuku gave him his best smile.
"I-I'm really busy, like all the time, but you said you were working on geometry? I could maybe help you if Ms. Chika bails on you again."
Todoroki looked at him like he was an alien, but didn't blow him off. An awkward silence infused the air between them as the boy seemed to contemplate the pros and cons. For a brief two seconds, Izuku worried the cons would outperform the pros, but it seemed the prospect of having help with geometry outweighed the idea of doing it alone. Caving, Todoroki tapped corners with Izuku's phone, a new contact popping up for each.
He didn't say another word to the green-haired boy before marching straight out the door, the opposite direction Izuku normally went. Not knowing what to do, he decided to just go back to looking over his notes. Sasami and he had discovered an interesting aspect about the smoke of Smokescreen, and Izuku was excited about exploring it. If it was true, it would drastically change how he trained and utilized the quirk. His notes were mostly with tests, and then hypothetical workouts.
About five minutes after Todoroki left, Chika and Sasami returned, chatting up a storm. The younger girl laughed, before turning to her work corner and pausing. Crying out in surprise, she whipped her head around to Izuku.
"Where's Shoto!?" She asked, now looking all around for her charge. Izuku cringed.
"He, uh, left."
"What!?"
[x]
It was the subsequent session that Izuku finally got to test his quirk out. Most of the time, when they spoke about quirks, it was in two ways. Hypothetical quirks were like brain teasers or pop quizzes. They were essential, in Sasami's opinion, in measuring his understanding of their subject. She hit him with them constantly, even breaking from her normal micro-lectures to do so.
The second type was case studies. Real, concrete examples of the theoreticals they spoke about in and outside of their private sessions. If hypotheticals were yoga, then case studies were powerlifting. They'd go over hero profiles, ex-convicts, Meta Ability exams from centuries past, and much more. They were the meat and bones of Izuku's education, and the greatest case study was the ongoing one of Izuku.
Izuku already knew the basics of his quirk. In fact, he knew more about the quirk than Sasami did, despite her better general comprehension. It was a shame that she didn't know about One for All. A person like her might kill for a simple explanation of what Izuku went through on a daily basis.
Sentience carried on after death through centuries of quirk-hopping. Having multiple quirks in one body. The sheer magnitude of his generational strength. He was like the poster boy of a quirk revolution; in a vacuum, keeping himself secret felt awful. Nighteye and Gran Torino had made it clear to him, however, that their powers were private. Lying to an expert's face was exhausting. Thankfully, his explanation of having a stamina-to-energy converter in his chest pacified the woman. Still, she was suspicious, and Izuku tried to keep her off his trail as much as possible. It was the one thing Nighteye had asked him to do, in exchange for his funding.
There was one thing, however, that had even slipped Izuku's notice. As soon as the past wielders stopped hiding from him in his dreams, he was going to grill En about it. He could, barely and sloppily, control the smoke after he emitted it.
"Alright, simply push your last emission to the left." Sasami said. Sweat rolled down his forehead as he tilted his head, concentrating. Unfortunately, he didn't have a psychic connection to it like Setsuna did with her body. The smoke moved a few inches at most.
In his friend's case, her power had three distinct aspects. She could regenerate, she could break into pieces, and she could control and feel through them like drones. When asked how she controlled or felt through them, she had laughed. To her, the difference between their bodies was like wires and wireless. Her nerves operated on a wifi-like connection to her brain, whereas a normal person would die if they were unplugged.
Izuku had no such thing. Instead, if he had to give it a metaphor, it would be a rapidly-growing child and parent relationship. For a while after emitted, the smoke listened to him; with enough willpower and physical direction, he could guide the smoke how he wanted. However, after they both reached a certain point of separation, his ability to control it fell exponentially. It was like a kid growing out of codependence.
"Hmm. Take a breather; take your notes, drink some water. We'll compare in ten." Sasami said, scribbling on a clipboard. Izuku nodded, relaxing. He wanted to try and disperse the cloud between them on his own, but Sasami beat him to it. Without looking, she flicked on an electric fan, still scribbling with her off-hand.
They spent half the session like that; testing out the limits of his quirk, designing theories, then testing them. It left him a little breathless when it was all said and done, but he'd recover by the time he left. Most days, he was fine to exhaust himself here, since his training took place in the morning. Izuku wrote, scratched out, and rewrote his notes while listening to a clock tick by. After a time, Sasami spoke up.
"You're like a conductor."
"Huh?" He asked. The parent-child comparison was relatively new, but deviating from it now felt wrong. Izuku's stomach did a little twist; would they have to scrap today's findings already?
"Like a music conductor with a rebellious orchestra. You technically call the shots, but more often than not, a musician goes against the grain. With millions of gaseous particles coming out of just the tip of your finger, your symphony will inevitably become muddled. It's basic statistics." She said, still scribbling.
"I-I thought I was more of a fath…parent?" Izuku asked, too embarrassed to call himself a father.
"You are, but you can be both. You could be something else, too. Not every truth is exclusive, kid. The faster you get that, the better off you'll be."
Izuku sat on that for the rest of the lesson. Even when they moved on to different exercises and even when they moved on from Smokescreen, he was thinking about it. Simultaneous truths? It hadn't ever really occurred to him before; but then again, he knew two things could be facts at the same time. In practicality, there was no difference between the two, yet the terminology sent his head spinning.
He thought about his mother. She was a hard worker and a mom. Those were simultaneous facts. He toyed with his personal definitions of fact and truth, contrasting each in his brain. What was the difference? Inko Midoriya… he loved her. More than anything. Was that a fact, or a truth?
Looking up at his teacher, he considered her. She was a U.A. graduate, yet she wasn't a hero. Those were facts. Sasami was the daughter of an idealist therapist and a colleague of a cynical hero. Facts, again. His eyes trailed her face; her left profile was pretty. That was an opinion… or was it a truth? He imagined sitting down with a lie detector and being asked if the woman was beautiful, and he imagined what he would answer.
If he said yes, thinking of her left profile, would it also say yes despite him knowing of her scar? If he said no, thinking of her right side, would it deny it, with him remembering her left? It made his head hurt. She was beautiful, yet she was ugly; but was that objective or subjective, and did it matter? She was generous, yet she was abrasive and pessimistic.
Yes, he could recognize both things at once, but thinking about it gave him heartache. Izuku gave one last look at the woman's missing eye, wondering what happened to her. If she could be subjectively beautiful to one person and subjectively ugly to another… was that a simultaneous, individual-based truth? Did that logic… apply to him?
"You're staring," Sasami said. Izuku exploded into a blushing mess, dropping his forgotten notes.
"O-o-oh my god, I'm s-so s-sorry—"
"It's fine, kid. You get it too, right?" She cut him off, offering him a look you didn't usually give to creepers who stared at you. He didn't know what to say, instead fumbling over his vowels and consonants like a moron.
"I-I-I d-d-don't…" I don't know what you mean, he tried to say. Her expression didn't change, but her lips tugged downwards a smidge. She tapped a finger against the edge of the raw flesh on her face.
"Stares. Of course, I don't see half of them—but one eye is enough to see plenty. You get them too?" She asked. Izuku's mumbling slowed to a stop, his brain still running a mile a minute, but now for different reasons.
"N-not as much with the p-prosthetic. I used to not wear it, but your dad told me it'd be better if I didn't have to deal with all the visual b-baggage." Izuku said. Sasami hummed a bit.
"He told me the same, though we both knew walking around like a pirate would generate looks either way. I decided to skip it." Sasami said. Izuku's eyebrows shot to his forehead. It was surprising; getting a prosthetic had helped him get through some of his hardest times. While she had said that eyepatches wouldn't do much for her, he wanted to ask why she didn't seem to have done anything else whatsoever.
He couldn't bring himself to, however. Sasami had such a strong personality that he couldn't guess the consequences; he could only go off his own experiences. Talking about his arm always hurt a little, give or take some depending on the person he was speaking to. Honestly, he doesn't know if he's ever had a serious discussion about it. He wasn't sure he could. Even Setsuna didn't know the full story; only his mentors did.
Recklessly asking Sasami about her disability would be rude and uncalled for by someone so intimate with her plight. Every day he got more suspicious that she wasn't as comfortable in the injury as she presented, but he held his tongue. If… it had something to do with her retirement as a hero, who was he to demand answers?
"Question. Why do you want to be a hero even though you're missing an arm? Isn't that just a waste?" Sasami asked, despite his own reservations. "You've got real brains, kid. Why not just become a scholar?"
Izuku choked, not prepared for the question. His eyes fluttered, images flashing in his mind's eye as his world darkened for that brief instant. Crumbling buildings, the helicopter's roar, and a million drops of blood. A tree covered in red liquid, three green-haired women, and action figures.
Why. It wasn't ever something he really thought about. Izuku was much more of a How guy. Why? Why not? Why would someone want to be a hero? To give back to the community, of course. To hold up the less fortunate and say "You're Safe!" To feel pride and satisfaction in a better world.
To repay a bottomless debt.
"I have to become a hero, ma'am. It's the only way." He said, chin to his chest.
"What was that? I could barely hear you." Sasami asked. Izuku straightened, pulling his gaze from the floor to meet her eyes.
"I said that I have to. I must make the world better." Izuku said, sitting taller than he felt. Sasami stared at him for a while, saying nothing. She took a sip of her tea.
"You could make the world better by becoming a leading scientist in our field. There's no shortage of quirk specialists, sure, but there's always a shortage of geniuses. You've heard of the Singularity?"
"Of course."
"Then you know how much we're going to need knowledgeable people soon. So, again, why? Putting all that genius towards, what? Even getting to the top fifty might be out of reach with that arm of yours. It'd be more cost-effective to devote yourself to the books."
One for All churned in his stomach. Izuku resisted her logic; it wasn't her fault, she didn't know. Not about his duty, his dream, his debt.
"S-sorry. I love quirks. They're my favorite thing; it's beautiful to see the uniqueness in people. I'd like to be like you, in some ways. Being able to do this all day sounds fun, but it'd be easy. Easy isn't… in my cards." Izuku said, his mind beginning to wander.
"That's the dumbest thing I've ever heard. When the cards are stacked against you, you play a different game. You don't double down." She said, leaning forward. Her orange eye burned into him like a branding iron, as if trying to convey her intent directly into his flesh. Izuku's throat was dry and his knuckles were shaking as he held back the whirlpool of unwanted thoughts swirling in his head. One for All continued to churn within him, but ever so slightly began to go counterclockwise, fighting the motion of his negativity. Warmth flickered behind his eyes, phantom sensations tickling his palms once again.
"Y-you know, that's a good point," Izuku allowed, swallowing down a voice crack, "but you're m-missing something. When the odds are in your opponent's favor, your victory comes with a much better prize."
The professor was silent at that. Izuku could feel the argument still raging within her, but she never let it slip verbally. The only indication that she was still thinking about his future as a hero was the way her spare hand ghosted over her scar. He wondered if the wound was why she quit and if it was why she wanted him to follow in her footsteps.
He resolved himself to ask Nighteye about it—eventually. Izuku wasn't sure how to ask such a delicate question, nor did he think he deserved to know. Everyone deserved their privacy; he wouldn't breach hers if he didn't have to. Still, after several weeks of studying with her, he was starting to realize he didn't know very much about Sasami Fujimaki and her beliefs at all.