Chapter 12: A Dull Blade Becomes Sharper
"Guh!" Izuku moaned, ripping his head from the bucket, water flying everywhere.
"Maximum output!" Nighteye said.
Taking in every ounce of oxygen Izuku could get in a single breath, he activated Smokescreen. His undershirt, already ragged ripped apart as every inch of skin on his body began pumping out smoke.
Within seconds, the entire warehouse was full from top to bottom. He never stopped, however, transmuting every molecule of air in his lungs into his smoke and then some. Reaching his hand out, Izuku could only see as far as his elbow. Even his stub was fuzzy in his clogged vision.
"Now pull! Try and take it all and move it!" Nighteye yelled, his voice bouncing around him. Grunting, Izuku cut off his emission and reached his hand out, tugging on the air like fabric. With all his human strength, he forced the massive cloud downwards.
Izuku's ears popped, a piercing pain searing itself into his brain as he willed his creation to kneel. For the duration of his hold, he was able to condense the cloud enough that he could see Nighteye's head and shoulders poking out the top. He was able to hold it in place for a few seconds before his strength failed him and the cloud dispersed.
Collapsing on the ground, Izuku took the tattered remains of his undershirt and covered his mouth, using it like a budget ventilator. Off where the smoke was still thick, he heard a series of coughs.
"Okay," Gran Torino said, pausing to cough. "Now grab smaller sections and disperse them one by one."
Izuku groaned, sitting up. His emissions weren't toxic, but when they were this condensed, they were unpleasant to breathe. With only one arm to hold his pseudo-ventilator, Izuku needed to manipulate the smoke without moving his body. He didn't have a psychic connection with it, but the smoke knew what he wanted and had a tendency to listen to him. Their link was more physical than mental, however, so not using his hand meant the manipulation was much harder.
A month ago, even the idea of telekinetically manipulating the smoke hadn't been in the equation. He'd made leaps and bounds of progress under Gran Torino's drilling.
Every day it got easier, but it wasn't passive growth. He had to work himself to the bone to even shift the smoke a little, and doing a stunt like what he had just performed would leave him exhausted for the next few hours. Still, he pushed through. Grabbing dozens of individual cubic meters, Izuku was able to pull them apart enough that they became null. It was slow progress, but it worked.
When Izuku finished, he was spent. Finding the least smoke-stained spot, Izuku laid down and curled into a ball. Izuku ignored the two sets of footfalls that approached him, but he couldn't ignore how one rubber boot kicked him in the spine.
"C'mon, boy, get up. Let's begin the cooldown." Gran Torino said. Groaning, he attempted to curl into himself even deeper, pretending he was a rolly polly, but the aged hero wasn't having it.
With the sound of a cane thwacking against flesh, Izuku found himself doing a light jog. Nighteye wasn't chasing him, thank the heavens, but the occasional softball hurdled in his direction. It wasn't a terrible volley by Izuku's standards, but it was intense enough that he had to pay attention. His success wasn't measured by speed, but by precision and perception. At least, that was true for cool-offs; every week, the obstacle course seemed to get harder.
Starting off the cool-off, his breath came out rough and his heart hammered at his ribs. By the end, he'd gotten his adrenaline under control. Coming to a stop by Nighteye, he accepted a cold cup of water. Bottled water was annoying to deal with.
"Decent work today, Midoriya. You're going to need a shower, though. And a new pair of sweats." Nighteye said, gesturing to his shredded shirt. Izuku blushed, nodding.
"I-I could've done better; held the cloud longer. I can feel it, there's just so much more I can do now that I can kinda control it." Izuku said.
"Indeed. Have you had any more odd dreams? Maybe One for All has some ideas." Gran Torino said, hobbling over. Izuku didn't know why he bothered with the old man act; he'd seen the man wrestle with the sound barrier on occasion.
"No, sir. No strange dreams recently." Izuku said, his reply clipped. Truth was, he hadn't, and that was the problem. Ever since he took Nana's hand that terrible day on the train, he hadn't had another dream. In its place, he'd simply floated in the void while he slept, watching the castle from afar. It hurt, not being able to see them. Talking to them every night had become second nature; he'd begun to look forward to it. Six was quiet, but funny and a decent mentor, even if he had been holding out on him quirk-wise. Five had been growing on him, despite the man's gruffness. Thinking about Seven made his heart hurt. Eight made his whole body hurt.
"Hm. You'd think One for All would be going bonkers, given you've got a past wielder's quirk as your own. I bet it won't be the only one, either." Gran Torino said. Izuku said nothing. He knew he'd probably get the others as well, but he kept it quiet.
Their session teetered off after that with Nighteye needing to patrol and Gran Torino needing to go to a bargain mart a city over. Without having a meeting with either Fujimaki afterwords and too tired to continue to train on his own, Izuku settled for getting groceries.
[x]
Setsuna Tokage was sharing the counter with her father when Izuku walked in, holding a paper list and a relaxed expression. His gait was a far cry from the rigid, jumpy kid that she'd met just a few months ago, but it wasn't a bad change. She'd found the old Izuku fine; pleasant, easy to talk with, but awkward. Since he'd risked his life for her mom, however, that'd changed. This Izuku wasn't wearing his arm, but he looked comfortable. This Izuku was still awkward and jumpy, but his good aspects had magnified since then.
She'd got the text half an hour ago that he was dropping by for his mom, and she'd spent the rest of her time loitering around the register. It'd been a week or two since the two had met up, and the boredom was killing her. Her school was out, and there was no excuse for them to not be hanging out every day. The kids at her school were cool; great, really, but none of them were as fun as Izuku.
So, when the boy finally arrived, she tackled him. She'd expected to shoulder-check him enough to send them both to the ground, just to punish him for not hanging around her more. She had not expected him to evade, spin, and slam her to the floor.
She blinked up at him as he did down to her, neither seeming to register what just happened. Over near the counter, her dad was laughing his butt off.
"That's what you get for attacking customers, Set!" He said, trying and failing to stifle his giggles. Setsuna pouted once she got her breath back, looking between Izuku at her father. Reaching out an intentionally pathetic hand towards Izuku, she whined.
"W-why… I was too young… too young to die! No mercy for the beautiful!?" She said, playing up her pain. At this, Izuku seemed to crack in half, splitting into pieces.
"Oh-oh-oh m-my god! I'm so, so sorry! Oh, my g—" Izuku said, getting down on one knee, frantically waving his arm, torn between helping her and not risking her wrath. A giggle-groan escaped her mouth, ending his panic. Sitting up, she reached a hand out. Izuku took it with some hesitance, pulling her up. She gave him a once over.
"I was going to force you to hang out with me, but you smell." She said. Izuku, for the second time, seemed to crack in half. She giggled, pinching her nose.
"It's fine. I could escort you home, y'know, making sure our products are delivered safely to a valued customer's fridge. You could shower then and we could go to the park after or something. Pass the list." Setsuna said, a fist on her hips and the other outstretched. Izuku stared at her like she was an alien for a second, before glancing away and dropping the list in her palm. Whatever she thought would be on the list was wrong. She leveled the boy with a deadpan stare.
"Two sticks of butter?" She asked. The boy pulled on his collar, airing out his shirt. He kept his eyes locked on a nearby shelf.
"I, uh… It's v-vital that those sticks of butter reach m-my home pronto."
"You know, you can just come to hang out, right? Plus, I know for a fact you have like, three sticks of butter right now. I literally always check out your groceries; you aren't going through butter that fast, you karate dweeb."
"K-karate dweeb!?" Izuku asked, appalled. Setsuna ignored him.
"Dad! Can Izuku use our shower?" She asked.
"'Course. If he really smells that bad, keep away from me!" Her father replied. Nodding to herself, she waved a hand over to the ladder. Izuku froze in place, his eyes saucers and his jaw working a mile a minute. If Setsuna cupped a hand to her ear, she could make out his fearful mutterings.
"I can't do that I can't do that I shouldn't that's rude holy crap please let me go I can't do that I have no change of clothes I shouldn't—" He whispered to himself, uncomprehending as Setsuna grabbed him by his arm and started dragging him across the store. Her father did nothing to stop her, only laughing to himself. Pulling him to his feet at the top of the hatch, she thanked everything holy her mother wasn't home. Izuku still looked catatonic, so she gave him a light slap.
"Hey, man, you don't gotta. All I'm saying is that you smell, and our bathroom is free. And that you gotta." Setsuna said, flicking him on the chin for good measure. The boy's shoulders slumped as he picked at his shirt.
"This is weird. And I don't have any clothes." Izuku said, inching back towards the hatch.
"Yeah, but it's your fault for coming here smelling like that."
"I just finished training for the day!" He said. Setsuna wrinkled her nose at the thought. He smelled like he had been dumpster diving, not training. She kept her reply curt.
"Take your lumps, Izu. You can have a shirt and some socks. I doubt you want my bottoms." She said, slipping her thumbs through her belt loops.
"There's no way I'm taking your clothes. I just can't." Izuku said.
"I think you can."
In the end, he couldn't resist her. Tossing him a pink steggo-themed tank top and some socks, she let him handle it from there. She sat on the ledge of the hatch, kicking her feet. A lump had formed in her throat.
She was going to be a hero. It was something she promised herself a while ago, and she stood by it. Every day after school, sports, and homework, she trained. She studied how it all worked; the basics. What started as learning how to become a legal hero became figuring out the best schools. Figuring out the best schools became figuring out how to get into U.A.
It hadn't taken her long to realize she might not have that hard of a time. Her quirk was good enough as is for the apparently infamous entrance exam, but with her cousin being the Governor's secretary, she might be able to get in on recommendation. Her cousin had said as much when she asked him at the last holiday get-together.
The chance of a free ride excited her, but guilt laced those feelings. Izuku, she figured, would also be getting in on recommendation. With Nighteye and another hero backing him, there was no way he wasn't. The difference, to her at least, was that while her cousin could worm her in, Izuku slaved away for Nighteye's approval. That video of his spar had stuck with her; the way Nighteye kicked him wasn't the way you kicked casual students. Izuku was putting everything on the line just for the chance to get it.
It felt like she was cheating.
That dark feeling had been bubbling up more and more often as she spoke with Izuku. They texted each other every day, but it only really hit when he came in for groceries. The bruises, limps, dragging feet, and delirium all hammered home the sheer effort he put into it. That wasn't even considering his personal apprenticeship at Shimi-freaking-suka. There was no doubt in her mind that he'd keep up that level of effort for years to come. It made her shiver.
Setsuna liked—scratch that, loved her free time. With studies, training, sports, and maintaining her friendships, she took every free chance she got to be a bum. She needed a few hours a week, if not a day, to just be a sloth. She didn't feel herself unless she was curled up reading a book.
Despite the inch or two she had on him in height, she felt like she had to crane her neck to look at him. She'd never call out an unfairness; really, she knew they simply had different attitudes. That didn't mean she didn't wish she had his work ethic, or his balls of steel.
He simply did not compare to her school friends. A rare handful of them wanted to be heroes; but none of them had Setsuna's drive, let alone Izuku's. Their talent and effort were like puddles to her lakes to his oceans. Not to say she didn't love 'em, but some of them were somehow lazier than her.
A yin-yang had formed in her gut whenever Izuku was around. On one hand, his spirit was such a shining star in her life that her solar system hadn't been the same since he'd arrived. On the other, his brightness only highlighted the darkness of the space around it. Across the flat, she heard the water putter out.
Bringing her outstretched fingers down to her chest in a fist, she mastered herself. Today was not a day to stress over it or even overcome it. Today they'd just have some fun. She sat, completely patient and not fidgeting at all, as the door to her bathroom creaked open.
Pink was his color, for sure.
[x]
They walked side by side, closer than even his mom stood. Her right shoulder was always in contact with his left, and it was perfect. He wasn't sure if she was doing it on purpose, but she doing an amazing job of covering up his arm. He'd forgone the prosthetic, not thinking they'd go out today; so his gratitude was through the roof.
For the most part, they just wandered the streets. A ping on their phones let them know a villain fight was going on across town, but Izuku wasn't feeling it at the moment. He'd already put a lot on the line today, no need to stress over villains as well. Setsuna agreed, so they just made their way toward the park. On the way, they passed a few food vendors and fast-food places, but their collective funds didn't crack twenty dollars.
The park adventure was short-lived. It was fun, just running around in the grass, but not fun enough for Izuku to forget his exhaustion. Lucky for Izuku, overhead clouds had begun to darken around the same time his energy ran out. The stormy weather had taken them by surprise, but that wasn't a problem for the two kids. Even when it started drizzling, they just marched on to a new location.
Not a lot of talking occured between them, but they still shared details about their daily lives with one another. Setsuna learned that his therapist and his Shimisuka mentor were coincidentally father-daughter. He learned that her cousin was the secretary of their provenance's governor.
There were a few things he wanted to tell her, to get off his chest, but he couldn't. Not today. Explaining why Endeavor might care about him required even more explanations and delicate ones at that. He wasn't sure, but he got the feeling that it was mutual. She often opened her mouth to speak but cut herself off. Prying wasn't on the table; privacy was something he was intimately familiar with. If she wasn't sure she wanted to tell him something, he didn't want to hear it. Izuku appreciated that she reciprocated that opinion.
Telling her about One for All was tempting, but he decided against it. Today wasn't the day; but he did toy with the idea. If he could confide with anyone about his dreams, it'd be Set. He'd be able to tell her everything. Being completely honest with someone sounded amazing. There wasn't a single person in his life besides his mom he could be completely truthful with, but telling his mom things always sent his gut rolling in guilt. She had enough on her plate.
Izuku tried to sneak a glance at Setsuna while he pondered, but he felt his face flush as his eyes met hers. Neither said a word, but they began walking a little faster towards their destination: a local arcade.
When Izuku admitted he'd never been, Setsuna had almost blown a casket. It hadn't taken much more than a few tense seconds of staring for Izuku to crumble. His nerves were on edge, but with Setsuna by his side, he was able to keep them under control. Take big problems and break them into smaller pieces, he remembered. He wouldn't mess up Setsuna's day with his baggage.
They didn't take time to admire the funky entrance. With soaked shoulders and wet hair, they got into cover as soon as possible. An older teen gave them a disgruntled look as they passed by a food stand, pulling her feet off the counter.
"Woah! This place is usually so much livelier!" Setsuna said, placing her fists on her hips. It was true; the place was almost empty. The only other kid in the whole place was some pink-skinned mutant girl playing old-school DDR. Izuku let out a breath he hadn't known he'd been holding. Without overcrowding, he might just survive this outing.
"It's gonna be thundering, so of course no one's here. Where are your parents?" The food-stand girl asked. Setsuna shrugged, grabbing Izuku by the shoulder.
"Shopping! To the motorcycles, my boy!" She said, dragging Izuku off to a game. She led him to one of the larger stations, with two big screens and motorcycle-like machines to match. Plopping herself down on one, she slid in a few coins. Revving the handles, she cast a glance over at Izuku, who'd yet to sit down.
"C'mon, c'mon, it's my favorite! You get to actually steer and lean with the thing! Plus, there are some cool abilities with the handle-bar buttons you can…" Setsuna said, gesturing at the left handle, which was bedazzled with colorful buttons. The left. She glanced at his arm at the same time he did.
"Mmm…" Izuku hummed, a small pit forming in his chest. Really, it looked kind of fun, but Izuku had put the idea of video games behind him. He'd never played them much in the first place, so it hadn't hit him until now, but he supposed it was just another thing out of reach. Even if he bent over backward to relearn how to play, he'd never be as good as a normal competitor.
Setsuna looked lost for a moment; almost having forgotten his predicament. She cast a glance over to the food stand, seeing how the teen had already kicked her feet back up and pulled out her phone. For a few moments, she seemed to hesitate. Glancing over at the stand and the DDR girl one more time, she put a finger to her lips in a "Shh" motion.
Her left arm popped off and floated down to the ground, snaking its way under a nearby table. Izuku did a double take, stepping forwards to stop her.
"You..!" He whisper-yelled, horrified that she'd used her quirk in public. She placed her remaining forefinger on his lips to silence him.
"Fair's fair, right? I already got the experience advantage on you, I don't need the physical one too." She said. Izuku just stared, the pit in his chest spasming as his insides clashed.
Ethically, he was horrified. Using your quirk in public; especially for people like them was a massive no-no. Even thinking about what he did on the train sent a shiver of fear down his spine. His career had almost ended before it began, and all because of a panic attack. He should be condemning this, shutting it down faster than a bullet.
Yet her action had filled him with so much warmth that he was just barely aware how tears were leaking down his cheeks. It took a few seconds of wrestling away those fears of punishment and ethical quandaries before he sat down. Sliding a few coins in, he did his best to put Setsuna in the dirt.
It didn't happen in the first race or the second. Not the third, or the fourth, but the fifth. By the fifth race, he was able to—just barely—snatch victory right from under her. By the seventh and with half of their funds down the drain, Izuku smoked her.
The laughter they shared when Setsuna recalled her arm for the ninth rang through the empty arcade. Izuku's cheeks hurt from smiling so much.
[x]
"I can not believe you. I self-amputate, ripping my own freaking arm off for the sake of sportsmanship, and then you show no mercy? When the heck did you even learn to ride a motorcycle that good anyways?" Setsuna said as they ran back towards her home. The light drizzle that had soaked them before had morphed into a steady rainfall. Izuku laughed, dodging out of the way of a couple sharing an umbrella a block away from the Tokage shop.
"It's not like it was hard! I'm sure with two arms you might've stood a chance!" Izuku yelled over the rain. The boy, to her athletic heart's chagrin, was pulling ahead of her. He was just a smidge fitter and about an arm and two inches lighter. She cried out her displeasure at both his smack-talking and his lead, making sure the entire street knew her frustration as Izuku turned the last corner to her house.
Redoubling her jog into a sprint, she took the corner as fast as she could, intending to overtake him by the time he reached her door. She hadn't intended to run into the boy's back, who was standing stock-still on the sidewalk.
Even though she's the one that hit him, it was once again less like a tackle and more of her slipping into him as he caught her, only this time he didn't slam her to the floor.
"Woah! What's—" Setsuna started, stopping once she saw it too.
Under the overhang to her shop's entrance was an older teen curled in a ball. Izuku held out his hand to block her from moving forward as he stared at the body. A nasty fear lit up in her gut. Homeless people weren't common in the area, but she knew they were there. It was an unspoken, unseen thing, like the gang affiliations.
Her mom told her stories about the homeless from her home city of Hosu. How they lived day to day and only got kicks out of violence. How they'd attack people; especially other homeless. This one didn't look like the fifty-year-old druggie type, but that didn't mean they didn't have problems. She pulled out her phone to call her dad at the same moment that Izuku stepped forward.
She was rooted in place for as second as the boy she'd just spent the last ten minutes running in the rain with marched towards the body. His gait had done a complete 180, from carefree and fun-loving to somber and cautious. Blinking, for a second, she saw the boy's face hovering over her own as he shielded her and her mom from gunfire.
Her phone-hand hanging limp at her side, she zoned back in just as Izuku crouched over the prone form of the teen. Shaking herself of her jitters, she jogged over and joined him.
"—okay? Sir, are you awake?" Izuku asked. His eyes had a ghosted look, like something had washed out all the color and replaced it with pure concern. The body below them groaned, shifting as it clutched his stomach. Red liquid dripped from between his fingers.
Now that she was close, she could tell without a doubt it was a man. He couldn't have been older than eighteen, with wavy black locks obscuring most of his face. Besides his thick hair, the only notable things about the boy were how his roots were a baby blue and eczema seemed to have ravished his face. The man rolled onto his back, never letting go of his stomach—or ribs? She couldn't tell.
"—ungry. So hungry…" The boy—man—moaned. For the first time, Izuku's eyes seemed to flick to her, startling her. It wasn't the painfully clear panic in his eyes that scared her, but the brief instance of obliviousness when their eyes met. Like he was staring at a stranger, but only for an instant. His confusion seemed to wash away as he opened his mouth, speaking in a tone she'd only ever heard before in her grandma.
"Set, could you please get your father to call an ambulance and get this man some food? Let me take him from here." Izuku said, his voice soft as he helped the older boy into a sitting position. Setsuna didn't even think; running into the grocery, she grabbed a TV dinner panini and slapped it in the back-store microwave. Sending her head up through the hatch, she yelled for her dad to call an ambulance.
She didn't know why she was so compliant with the request; the man scared her. There wasn't anything she wanted more right now than for him to disappear and for her to forget the way he clutched his chest. If she had it her way, the man would be perfectly fine as far away from her as possible.
Still, she got her father to call an ambulance and snagged the panini on her way out. When she handed it to Izuku, the boy basically forced the man's mouth open to eat. It hadn't taken much effort on his part; the man, upon smelling the TV dinner, changed his demeanor. It wasn't a small meal by any means, but the man inhaled it like it wasn't even a mouthful. So fervent in his gluttony, he even took his bloody hand away from his stomach to grip the sandwich even tighter. Izuku gasped, placing his own hands on the man's wound.
"Oh, boy…" A look of confusion slipped onto his face again at his own familiarity. Setsuna looked between the two, also confused. The words sounded wrong on his lips. The teen moaned as the last of his sandwich disappeared into his mouth. For a moment, no one moved. Off in the distance, Setsuna noted the dull sound of sirens. With the way the teen's eyes shot open themselves, she guessed he heard it too.
He shoved Izuku off with a strength that seemed impossible for his state, struggling to his feet. Clutching his wound, he looked like a wounded animal as his eyes narrowed in on Izuku.
"P-pest…" He whispered, venom dribbling out of his lips like rabies. He took a half-step towards the alley, stumbling a moment. She was too late to stop him as Izuku took a full step forward, grabbing the man's wrist.
"You…you're hurt! An ambulance is on its way… please, T-ten… stay!" Izuku said, stumbling over his words like he was trying to say two things at once.
"D-damn locust! Fool! Fuck off!" He said, ripping his arm free with inhuman strength. The homeless teen took another step towards the alleyway, then another. Setsuna grabbed Izuku's hand, holding him back from getting near the boy again. Something in her gut was screaming at her that this felt wrong, and she'd be damned if Izuku felt the brunt end of it.
He spasmed in her grip, looking conflicted as the sound of sirens became piercing in their heads. His eyes were wild as EMTs arrived on the scene, but they were too late. The man had wandered off to the alleys.
Izuku seemed to shut down as the trio of emergency responders grilled them about the man's whereabouts, crouching down onto the ground into a ball. He didn't budge as she pulled on his hand, his grip having turned to iron in her own. She watched as the health workers ran down the alley in search of the man; something told her that they wouldn't find him. Her heart sank as she looked at Izuku; he looked totally freaked.
Using more force, she hauled him to his feet and ferried him inside, away from the loud sirens. She passed her father on the way in, mumbling something about getting Izuku inside for a bit as she took him upstairs. Her father nodded, telling her she'd call his mom.
Setsuna let him sit on her bed. It didn't matter that he was sopping wet, it was the comfiest part of the most sound-proof room in the house. Heartache gripped her as she watched her friend try to collect himself.
"Hey… Izu. D-did you know him? It kinda seemed…" Setsuna trailed off as she saw Izuku go rigid.
"N-never in m-my life." He said, not looking at her. All her squishiest emotions seemed to bubble up to the surface at the obvious lie. Keeping her tears at bay, she tried to pat his shoulder.
"Don't beat yourself up, then. He was probably just freaking out. Dude had a hole in his stomach, 'n all." She said. Izuku pulled his knees to his chest, planting his forehead between them.
"Yeah. I guess."
[x]
The following day was one of his rare rest days, thank god. Izuku spent it in his room, mostly sleeping and listing to the rain patter against the roof. The light drizzle had turned out to be a freak storm, the kind of which only showed up a few times a year, and never this abruptly.
He tossed and turned in his bed, his mind never leaving the injured man's face. It was scarred, cracked, and rough in all the worst places. Izuku wasn't an expert, but it definitely wasn't drug use; it looked like a bad case of a skin disorder.
It wasn't the man's disturbing face that kept his mind occupied, however. It was the raging current of One for All in his stomach that only got worse as he thought more about him. His quirk was alive; that much he knew for certain. Even if the quirk itself wasn't organic, it housed the consciousness of at least eight people. It thought, it felt, it had opinions. Usually, those opinions were muted if notable at all, and on rare occasions, it leaned particularly hard in a positive or negative way. Nighteye and Gran Torino, for example, always sent his gut stirring a little. As did training, combat, or secrets regarding the quirk itself.
Never had his gut given him such a visceral reaction to a single person. One for All had been howling, screeching, and crying as he'd pressed his hands against the man's forgotten wound. Danger, love! Chaos and danger and fear and so, so much love. It was the most passion he'd ever felt and it hadn't even been his own feelings.
He didn't get it, and that scared him. All he wanted, all he needed, was to speak to the vestiges again. Izuku needed their guidance, companionship, and most importantly, verbal input. Despite his many talents, emotional intelligence wasn't one of them. Compassion, servitude, friendship, love. Emotions fueled him, but he didn't have a grasp of what it all meant. He knew what was right and what was wrong, and he'd act on that knowledge without hesitation, but understanding it? Don't ask him.
Without the vestiges, all he had to go off of was his gut, and his gut wasn't being very cooperative with his brain today. Static had filled his brain after the EMT's appearance, not even considering the turmoil his quirk was putting him through.
Exhaling out of his nose, Izuku sat up. Stretching, he looked at the clock. 12:40 p.m. He'd been moping since morning, and the day was half over. One for All was still thrashing in his gut, but it weakened since waking up. He didn't have a clue what to do about the strange man, but it didn't matter right now. If it was really that important, the vestiges would have to come to him.
Checking his phone, he had about a dozen texts. Ten were from Setsuna alone, ranging from questioning how he felt after yesterday to videos of stray cats playing outside her window. One was from Nighteye, and it explained how he was pushing back their next session due to weather. The third, however, was from a contact that'd so far gone unused since he'd received it.
Shoto Todoroki: Question five? I can call.
Attached to the singular message was a link to a worksheet. Izuku, despite the turmoil in his heart, cracked a small smile. Anything to keep his mind off yesterday; though, in the back of his mind, he knew he didn't really want to forget. Not only did he have a blast with Setsuna and make huge progress with his quirk control, he knew he'd see the man again.
One for All was certain.
Chapter 13: The Ogre
When Shoto finished Algebra, he celebrated. He'd added just a pinch of sugar to his tea the following morning, satisfied he'd done a good job. Perhaps most people wouldn't call that a celebration, but it was enough for him.
Moving onto Geometry had been nice. He wasn't gifted at it, that was for certain, but they didn't grapple like rival barbarians. Algebra had been difficult for him. After the hell it put him through, moving upwards felt like a vacation. He doesn't know why mathematicians considered Geometry a more difficult subject. It tickled his brain in a way that didn't make him want to bring the next ice age a thousand years too soon. He'd let himself relax; enough that he'd even reached out for help from Izuku Midoriya. No pride held him back. His conscious was clear and his intellectual independence remained satisfied.
They only worked on Geometry together once. Shoto could admit it was due to laziness on his part; it was a single question, but that didn't tell the whole story. One question, four parts, and three answers to each part. Izuku had called him and had walked him through each part, explaining everything up until the actual answer. It'd been nice; he'd appreciated it, but Shoto didn't plan for it to become a habit. He spent what little remained of his Geometry workload by himself.
When he'd learned that there was a fucking Algebra 2, he damn near burst into flames—scratch that, he fucking did. Chika almost shat herself when the packet she handed Shoto started smoldering, his thumbs digging blackening holes into the A and 2 at the top.
Of all Shoto's virtues, his favorite was his self-discipline. Perhaps it wasn't always in his favor, manifesting in a stubbornness that often bothered his family, but it was ideal for the trials he faced day-to-day. You need truckloads of self-control when your blood was fire and ice incarnate. Upon receiving the first of his new class work, he'd gone straight home to his room and meditated.
He considered Algebra 2 as a nemesis; a monster to overcome not unlike how his father had planned All Might to be. Algebra 1 was a hint of what was to come; a precursor to hell itself. A thousand thoughts had filtered through his head during that three-hour stretch, but eventually, only two schools of thought remained.
He could dominate the subject by himself, once and for all proving that he was better than it. The gladiator-method, he'd called it. Brawling with equations with his bare hands. Fight to live, only to live to fight. A one-on-one battle of wills where the loser would fall into obscurity and the victor would bear his scars, proud till his dying days.
Or, he could skip the scars and reach out to Izuku again. Both seemed good to him at first. Let his arrogance take over and struggle with it like a man or ask for help and get it done easily. In retrospect, he didn't know why he'd struggled with the decision so much. Bearing his victory scars? He had enough of those. Letting his arrogance take over? No matter how much his father had improved, he still didn't want to be anything like him.
So, for the past four months, he'd chipped away at Algebra 2 with Izuku's help. What started out as explanatory texts turned into voice messages, which turned into calls and then into video calls. Eventually, video calls turned into library meetups. All throughout, Izuku and Shoto turned from bare-bones acquaintances into something akin to friends.
Neither of them was very social, as Shoto found out. The only evidence Shoto'd seen that Izuku had friends was today's innocuous call at the library. Izuku seemed to zone out as the caller spouted happy nonsense that Shoto couldn't catch, with the other boy smiling and nodding all the while.
"Of course, Set. Also, my mom wanted to know about Friday's dinner..?" He'd said. The following babble seemed to put a frown on his face; though it might've been closer to a pout.
"Oh… well if he's sick again then it's best he gets his rest. Tell Mr. Tokage I want him to get better soon. I'll tell my mom. Next Sunday?" Izuku asked. He got an affirmative buzz. "Alright, great. I'll probably swing by sometime before then. Can't waste weekends with you, you school-goer." The conversation ended with what sounded like a huff from the caller's end.
"Set?" Shoto asked. Izuku had frozen, his face exploding into a blush like Shoto caught him naked. The heterochromatic boy shrugged off the boy's subsequent apology. It hadn't seemed like a very private call, just a little friendlier than how he acted around Shoto. It didn't bother him. Though, if he was missing a dinner event, maybe…
Nothing was going on this week at their house; it was shaping up to be quite a boring weekend. His father would be radio silent, as normal, so maybe there was a chance to alleviate some boredom. He didn't want his father's crap to catch up to Izuku, but there wasn't any risk. Plus, his siblings always complained about how he didn't show off his friends. Maybe they could hop off his case.
"You're going to miss a dinner on Friday?" He asked. Izuku nodded, his face a little glum.
"Apparently. Set—the girl on the phone—and her family eat with mine every other week. Seems her dad is sick again, though. It happens." Izuku said, shrugging as he pulled out a different binder from his backpack.
"How big's your family, anyway?" Shoto asked.
"Oh, just me and my mom. Dad walked out, could be anywhere for all I care." Izuku said. Shoto raised a brow, holding out a fist. Izuku bumped it with confused hesitance.
"Crap dads. I hear you there. If it's just your mom, do you want to try my house? I'd have to ask Fuyumi, but…" Shoto said, trailing off as Izuku winced.
"S-sorry, I'll have to pass. You're the one who told me to stay off Endeavor's radar, remember? I don't… really want to risk all that. No offense! The offer was really nice, it's just—"
"My dad won't be there. I haven't seen him at dinner, since…for… I don't really remember. It's been a few months." Shoto said, leaning forward a bit. He saw his father often enough for training, but that was always in the morning; Endeavor was active later in the day. Izuku seemed to pause, as if running the calculations in his brain like it was an equation on the papers below them. If X was risking sounding rude to a dinner offer and Y was risking Endeavor, which unit had the higher value?
"I…uh… a-are you sure?" Izuku asked, his voice cracking. Shoto shrugged.
"I guess. It'd just be my siblings, and my sister has been dying to meet you." He said, ignoring how the green-haired boy flushed.
"C-can you ask her first? I really, really wouldn't want to impose. My mom even less than me." He said. Shoto didn't even respond, instead shooting off a text to his sister. Not even ten seconds passed before he got a thumbs-up emoji. He flipped the phone around and shoved it in the boy's face, his hand covering their chat history.
"She doesn't like that you've basically replaced Chika, but she's been bugging me about our little library meetups since I mentioned them. I don't think Natsuo gives a crap about anything other than what kind of food there'll be."
"B-b-but don't you still tutor under Chika? I just help you with what you know, I don't teach you anything!? I wouldn't want to steal her job!" Izuku said.
"I guess, but Chika doesn't teach me much anyways. The only reason she still has a job is 'cause my dad doesn't know. Well, I guess she's helpful since you're so busy, but I get more value out of this than her sessions anyways." Shoto said.
"T-thank…you? I don't want to speak ill about Chika, though. She seems nice?"
"Sure. What's your mom say?"
"H-her message s-said…" Izuku started, checking his phone. He seemed to deflate. "Yeah…"
"Cool. See you then, I guess." Shoto said as Izuku nodded, his eyes still clouded with obvious doubt. They both glanced down at the rest of his Algebra work. It felt kind of awkward to keep doing math after the way he just said that, so he decided to not.
"Peace."
[x]
Setsunasaurus: There is absolutely no chance you're being fr. Absolutely none.
Izuku: 100% He's the guy I've been helping at the library.
Setsunasaurus: Get the hell outta here. Ur cozy with Endeavor's son? You're going to meet Endeavor?
Izuku: I'm not cozy with him. His sister goes to Shimisuka and we met there by chance. And no, I don't think so. Apparently, Endeavor doesn't go to family dinners often.
Setsunasaurus: I can imagine. The guy patrols at least sixteen hours a day. Sucks for your guy tho
Izuku: I guess. My mom took it surprisingly well.
Setsunasaurus: If by that you mean flipping her shit, then sure. How about u doe? Kinda sucks that you're missing out on the number one hero.
Izuku: I'm not going to meet Endeavor, Set. I'm going for Shoto cause he offered.
Setsunasaurus: So what I'm hearing is that I'm being replaced. Can't make one dinner and suddenly you get a new best friend. Thanks alot bruh
Izuku: Don't say that
Setsunasaurus: Why? It's clearly so true. I'm wounded and you're leaving me behind.
Izuku: It's not and you know it.
Setsunasaurus: Sure. And the world is flat. Anyways, when are you introducing us?
Izuku: What do you mean?
Setsunasaurus: Me and your guy. I don't get your apprehension at all; I totally want to meet endeavor. So, when are we meeting up?
Izuku: He's not a ticket to endeavor. I don't see any reason for you guys to meet since you're still on algebra 1. Plus, it's not like we ever meet with your friends.
Setsunasaurus: I know he's not a dad-ticket, you dork. The only reason you haven't met my friends is cuz you never ask. I'm asking. If u want to make a new bestie, then he's gonna have to go through me first.
Izuku: He's not your replacement.
Setsunasaurus. W-H-E-N are we M-E-E-T-I-N-G
Izuku: IDK. If dinner goes well I'll ask.
Setsunasaurus: U better, dawg. I wanna meet icy-hot.
Izuku sighed as he slid his phone under his pillow, his eyes dry from staring at it so much. Rolling onto his back, he sighed. Of course, he did want Shoto and Setsuna to meet; his only friend and his pseudo-friend being in the same room sounded fun. It'd be a dangerous collision of worlds, however. Setsuna was bubbly and bombastic while caution and a dash of snark defined Shoto.
With his clock reading 11:56, Izuku groaned. He couldn't sleep; he was too nervous about tomorrow. For the life of him, he wasn't sure why he accepted the invitation. Izuku and Shoto had gotten relatively close, but it was all surface-level. He knew the boy was training to be a hero and had a good head for math, but outside of that? His home life was mediocre, so wild at both ends that it balanced in the middle. His sister was nice. His brother was a little less. His dad didn't seem to be whatsoever. Mom out of the picture. All filthy rich.
They didn't discuss personal interests outside of their quirk training; of which Izuku learned Shoto also partook. Still, they'd developed closer than such impersonal interactions suggested. The biggest reason was the horror house that was their bodies. With Shoto's ruined face and Izuku's ruined silhouette, they looked like two halves of the same victim. It made their relationship easy.
They were like a Venn diagram. On Shoto's side were his stoicism and quiet pride. On Izuku's side were his weighty presence and work ethic. In the middle were their disabilities, trash fathers, and general ability to stand in a crowd unnoticed. They meshed well.
Izuku hadn't thought they meshed well enough for Shoto to invite him, however. Even if he had, he hadn't expected it given Shoto's ominous warning at their first meeting. That warning had put a wedge between them in his mind. They could be acquaintances, maybe even friends, but they couldn't be close. Enji Todoroki's personal stake in Izuku Midoriya had made that impossible.
Yet, for whatever reason, Shoto had thrown that away. Caution to the wind, carefree. He must be incredibly confident Endeavor would be a no-show. Anxiety gripped his gut as the thought rolled over in his gut. The whole situation sucked.
He liked Shoto. The boy was nice to him and held steady conversation, even if it came at the cost of being about math. Coming to terms with never getting to truly be friends with the boy had been hard, but doable. He'd divorced the idea of a close companionship within a month of their library sessions.
Then Shoto dropped the ball; an evil ultimatum. Turn down a dinner invitation and risk seeming rude to his pseudo-friend, or risk exposure to Endeavor, the man whose suspected intentions sent his gut churning.
Really, he should be mad at the heterochromatic boy. This was a horrible position to put Izuku in. In any other circumstance other than a charitable offer for dinner, he might have given Shoto a piece of his mind.
He rolled onto his stomach—who was he kidding? The second Shoto made the offer, he'd made his decision. No matter how much a blessing Setsuna was in his life, he knew he needed more friends. Dr. Fujimaki had been adamant in their last session; Setsuna was just the proof that he could make them. Now he needed to "expand his horizons."
His phone buzzed under his face.
Setsunasaurus: Alright, Imma head to bed. I can tell ur kinda nervous, so imma remind you that you don't have to go. Just do whatever ur comfy with. GN big boy
Izuku sighed. She was right, as always. Be brave, he reminded himself. He wasn't training tomorrow; all he was doing was tuning into a big lecture at Shimisuka. It'd be a low-stress day. No matter what, he'd go in hoping for the best and preparing for the worst.
[x]
Shoto Todoroki felt like a moron. It was unseemly for a Todoroki to mope, but Shoto couldn't help it today. He lay face-down on his couch, groaning into the cushions. What the hell was wrong with him?
Jumping Izuku with a dinner invite was, perhaps, the most thoughtless thing he'd ever done. His father had drilled solid decision-making, reasonable deduction, and situational awareness into him for his entire childhood. Fuyumi and mom had always reinforced respecting others' circumstances and Natsuo made it a point for him to understand the balance of social power. He knew his father's interest in Midoriya; he just about shouted it from the rooftops. Shoto was so intimate with that knowledge that he'd even warned off Izuku at their first freaking meeting.
Then, in his most genius maneuver yet, he'd strong-armed him into a dinner at his house. Where Endeavor lived. None of that knowledge had helped him at that moment. He'd just invited him; saw a chance for… something? And he took it.
There wasn't a single logical reason he did it; there wasn't even a way to twist it in hindsight. He couldn't kid himself; whatever the reason, it'd been selfish. That alone made his gut twist into knots he wasn't familiar with.
A poke brought him back to the real world; Fuyumi stood above him, blocking out the overhead light. Sporting dimples on her cheeks, she looked like she was holding back a giggle.
"C'mon, Sho. It's not that bad; it's not like dad'll show up. It's nice that you've invited a friend over! You know Nat and I won't spill the beans." She said, pulling him up by the shoulder. He let his head sag as he was brought up to a sitting position, looking off.
"It was dumb." He said. Sparkling teeth peeked out from her lips as she smiled.
"Yeah, but it'll be fun. I'll start dinner, yah? You go give Natsuo the run-down and then you can finish it. I'll serve." She said. Sighing, Shoto nodded, patting her elbow as he slipped past her.
His older brother was a bit on the denser side. Well, he was smart, but he didn't care much for anything outside of weight lifting and eating. Tact was something he saved for rare occasions, and Shoto needed to remind him that not only was tonight rare, but a unique occasion.
Leaning against his brother's doorframe, Shoto peaked in. Natsuo was in for once, and it looked like he was trying to eat his hydro flask the way he was gulping down water.
"Good set?" He asked. His brother held up one finger as he continued to inhale his whole bottle. Shoto rolled his eyes. When only a few drops remained, Natsuo choked, staggering as he tried to balance breathing with not spilling.
"I PB'd! Got a great burn in, too. What's up?" He said, wiping his lips.
"I invited Izuku Midoriya and his mom over for dinner. I need you to not let that slip to dad after the fact, please." Shoto said, stone cold. He liked to think that he and his brother, despite their differences, operated on similar wavelengths. Natsuo was not, however, wired into him in this instance.
"Pfft! No way in hell! I swear, are you trying to ruin this guy? Did he correct your formulas one too many times!?" Natsuo said, howling with laughter. Shoto groaned. Doubling over, his brother continued to laugh.
"I just need dad not to find out. I invited him because I felt like it. I might've forgotten about how creepy dad was." Shoto said. Natsuo's laughing dried up at the mention of their father.
"Well, Endeavor could certainly be described as creepy. I think there are a few more… appropriate adjectives, though." He said.
"Will you just keep your mouth shut and play nice?" Shoto asked, ignoring how blatant Natsuo's disrespect had grown. Ever since All Might had died, his brother had grown more and more obtuse with his feelings toward dad.
"Oh, Endeavor's not getting a peep out of me. You kiddin'? He's basically on his hands and knees asking about the Midoriya kid; this'll be a great way to hold something over his dumbass." Natsuo said.
"Cool. Soba tonight." Shoto said.
[x]
A buzzer going off in the living room alerted Shoto to the arrival of his guests. Not bothering to grab a towel, he let his internal heat evaporate the lingering water on his hands. By the time he reached the front door to reply to the buzz, he was dry.
"Hey. Follow the steps with the round stones sitting on the right edge." He said, holding the buzzer next to the door. If they took any other set of stairs, they'd end up in the wrong parts of the compound. A tiny screen next to it played a live feed of the outer gate. Izuku and someone who Shoto could only assume to be his mother was standing outside his house, starstruck. He couldn't imagine why.
"Fu! Guests are coming!" He called across the house. Instead of his sister's white-and-red hair peeking out from the kitchen as he expected, Natsuo's goofy dome made its appearance.
"Yo! Is his mom hot?" He called across the living room, peeking around the threshold of the kitchen.
"I want you to die."
Natsuo laughed, pulling his head back into the kitchen with dubious intentions written on his forehead. Shoto'd prepped the meal, with Fuyumi organizing it and readying it for the guests. If Natsuo so much as touched the meal before it came out of the kitchen, he decided he'd freeze him. Following that, he'd have him flown out in a refrigerator to the antarctic. Future generations of anthropologists could unfreeze and study him for all Shoto would care.
Counting to ten in his head, he slid open the front door. The Midoriyas were only halfway up the path, but that was perfect. It gave him time to greet the two before his family weaseled their way in.
"Yo. Hello, ma'am." Shoto said, looking from Izuku to his mother. Ms. Midoriya smiled, reaching out a hand.
"Hi! So, you're the one who my son's been helping. Todoroki…?" She said, trailing off into a question. Her tone was warm, friendlier than he'd expected.
"Shoto. Yeah, Izuku's been helping me." Helping was an understatement. Shoto would've burned the world to a crisp by now without him. This dinner was a small thank-you. It was why he'd helped Fuyumi with it so much; the responsibility fell to his shoulders. Ms. Midoriya nodded.
"I'm glad. It's so nice of you to invite us—" The front door slamming open interrupted Ms. Midoriya, revealing Natsuo at the threshold.
"Is this the kid that's stealing Chika's job!?" He called out, shuffling out the door to shake their hands. Shoto's lips tugged down a little, even as his brother's face burst into a toothy grin. "It's good, too. She's kinda controlling—" This time, Fuyumi interrupted Natsuo as she slipped past him, throwing him a threatening look.
"Keep your opinions to yourself, especially around guests. Hello, Midoriyas." She said, dropping into a medium bow. Izuku looked a bit uncomfortable at the mention of Chika, but his mother was beaming.
"No, no! It's your house, be at your leisure! We're just so grateful for the invite to your lovely home." She said. What went unsaid was that she also wasn't Chika's biggest fan; she'd heard enough stories from Izuku to form her own opinion. Fuyumi blushed, waving them in.
"Thank you so much, ma'am. We try to run a clean ship around, with father being such a busy man. He won't be showing up, of course, but we like to make sure he has it easy when he is occasionally home." Fuyumi said, guiding them through the mudroom into the living room. What went unsaid was just why they wanted to avoid their father's vindication. He'd mellowed out; not become a saint.
Shoto watched, intrigued as the Midoriyas surveyed their living room with wide eyes. Had they never seen a living room before? He became even more confused when he heard Izuku mutter "so spacious…"
He set the table while they inspected the room and made small talk with his brother. Fuyumi was putting the finishing touches on his soba, but he could tell she was listening in on the conversation, just in case she needed to reprimand him again.
It was weird, he decided, to have an older woman in the home again. Without his…mom, or any maids, the only girl in the home was Fuyumi. He felt the way his siblings seem to gravitate toward her warm and casual demeanor. Nostalgia flickered in him as he watched Natsuo laugh at Ms. Midoriya's remarks.
Nowadays, he didn't see his mother. Outside of their training, the rare things his father spoke about revolved around Izuku. His father didn't even know they had grown closer; all he knew was that he had proximity to the boy. Whatever interest the man had in Izuku went deeper than he cared to know, let alone risk.
After bailing on Izuku after inviting him, Shoto had been kicking himself. He didn't know why he invited them; it was spontaneous, almost random. He couldn't take it back afterward, even if he wanted to. Once he made up his mind about something, he forced himself to see it through.
At the very least, he was comfortable that his father wouldn't interrupt them. An open hero-stream on his phone spoke for itself: Endeavor was occupied.
The dinner itself was good; he'd put a decent amount of effort into it, and soba being his favorite, he knew how to optimize it. One might refer to him as a soba-genius, if one considered Izuku to be a quirk-genius. He kept his musings to himself.
Shoto enjoyed himself throughout. Despite the little voice in the back of his head warning him of impending doom, it wasn't that bad. Dinner guests came to the Todoroki's on occasion, but they were few and far in between. Usually, they'd be diplomats or his father's sidekicks; with rare appearances from his sibling's college friends. Never before had someone his age come by. Maybe it was the presence of Izuku's mother, but it wasn't as awkward as he was expecting.
Everyone emptied their bowl at least once, with the boys, excluding Izuku, doing it twice. Izuku managed an incredible three-and-a-half bowls for his stature. Record breaking, in his house. Pound for pound, the boy who sat even to paperweights on a scale had out-eaten their father. Fuyumi giggled.
"Wow. Did Shoto really do that good of a job? Maybe he should do dinner more often…" She said, keeping her laughter polite. Ms. Midoriya laughed.
"Oh, he seems to have done well. You should see Izuku at home though; thank god for Sasaki! Even with him footing most of the big bills, I can barely afford to fill his stomach." She said, her own giggle matching his sister's.
"Mom!" Izuku exclaimed, horrified. Shoto looked between the two, confused.
"Sasaki..? I was under the impression you two ran a two-person ship?" Shoto asked, speaking up for the first time in several minutes. Izuku and his mother had a matching blush, he noted.
"Oh, I meant Nighteye. He… he pays the medical bills. Ms. Fujimaki's payment also comes from him." Ms. Midoriya said. Shoto tilted his head, but didn't push the issue; it wasn't their business. Seemed weird though. A glance at Fuyumi told him she agreed; Natsuo looked as oblivious as ever.
"How's that happen?" Natsuo asked. Shoto just about dunked what remained of his soba on his brother's moronic head, but Fuyumi beat him to it.
"Nat! Re-lax!" She said, whisper-shouting. Nervous laughter tickled their ears as they all turned to Izuku.
"N-no, it's ok. I kinda…" Izuku began, before rolling up the cuffs on his left sleeve, revealing the prosthetic. "Blew off my arm. Nighteye and his friend kind of saved me; well, they at least saved what was left of me. They took me on as a sort of… pity apprentice afterward."
Fuyumi gasped, with Natsuo doing a doubletake. He'd neglected to mention Izuku's amputation. Shoto picked at the very last of his soba. Spinning on Natsuo, Fuyumi slapped his shoulder and pulled on his ear.
"You are your questions! I'm so sorry, Midoriya. My brother is a moron." She said, bowing to each green-haired guest, her bow a little deeper for the boy. Izuku's nervous laughter trickled on.
"N-no. It's all… fine to talk about. Just, please skip on the details for your father?" He said, ignoring the way his mother looked at him, surprised.
"'Course. My invitation was basically a trap; sorry for that, by the way. Dad won't get a peep out of us. Right, Nat?" Shoto said, casting a small glance at his brother, who was still rubbing where Fuyumi abused him. The two brothers met eyes, the older nodding.
"Yeah. Endeavor's always ranting about you, Midoriya. I'd never give up a chance to shove it in his face that we know you and he doesn't." Natsuo said, shrinking away from both his siblings. That comment seemed to break the growing tension in Ms. Midoriya.
"What are you talking about? Izuku, what has Endeavor been doing?" She asked, looking all around the room. All at once, the children winced. Shoto shot Izuku a look, surprised he'd kept it from his mom. He cringed.
"M-mom, well, I don't really know; I just know what Shoto told me. It seems…" Izuku looked around the room, pleading for help without asking. Natsuo saved the day.
"Endeavor's always been rough. We don't really know why he cares, we just know he won't shut up about it. It's basically all he talks about when Shoto's around." He said. Fuyumi nodded.
"I doubt it's bad; our father has a very… strong moral compass. Have you," She said, turning to Izuku. "Done anything of note? That might've caught his eye?"
Izuku went rigid; Shoto doubted his siblings noticed, but he'd known the boy long enough to recognize it. He could tell the boy's mother noticed as well when she slipped a hand to his lower back. She cleared her throat.
"Perhaps we could speak of this another time. It is getting late, after all; maybe it's time we about head out. It was quite fun." She said, standing up with her son. The three siblings stood with them. Natsuo gave Fuyumi a look that screamed "Well look who's done it now?"
Like possessed by demons, the Todoroki siblings cleaned and cleared the dining table and escorted the Midoriyas back to the mudroom. Fuyumi shot him a questioning look, and he shrugged. Ms. Midoriya was whispering to a stiff Izuku as the siblings regrouped to say their farewells.
"It was lovely having you; as Shoto's friend, you're welcome back anytime!" Fuyumi said to the mother and son. Ms. Midoriya nodded, thanking her.
"That'll be up to Izuku. No offense to any of you, you were lovely, but I'm considering filing a complaint to the Endeavor agency. I don't like the sound of what Endeavor's been up to. Izuku's been through enough." She said. Each sibling had a different reaction. Shoto nodded, not disagreeing. Fuyumi cringed. Natsuo actually looked happy, like he'd been hoping she'd say that.
"It's not… that big a deal," Izuku muttered, staring into the floor. With an almost imperceptible poke from his mother, he went around to shake their hands and bow. When he got to Shoto, he paused, caught between the action of bowing and reaching a hand out. Shoto decided to grant him mercy by holding out a fist for him to bump. Izuku seemed grateful.
Sneaking past the Midoriyas, Fuyumi grabbed the door before anyone could. It was a simple tradition; the male host greets the guest, and the female host fares them well. With a pleasant smile and perhaps a bit more courtesy than necessary, she faced the Midoriyas as she slid open the door behind her. She didn't quite understand why all four people in the mudroom froze.
"What the hell?" Endeavor said, his silhouette blocking out the last rays of the sun.
[x]
He groaned as his ribs flared up, tripping him up. Shoulder checking a brick wall sent him to the ground, curses stumbling out of him. Nothing felt good in his body; his ribs hadn't shut up in days, the bottoms of his feet were raw where his shoes had deteriorated, and his face still fucking itched.
His head laid on something soft—trash, he suspected. The thought wasn't enough to warrant movement. Sprawling across the filthy alley like the coziest mattress he could imagine, the man let out a sigh. The world came in and out of focus with his breath. Nothing made sense.
Blood oozed down his neck, re-wetting his already blood-stained hands. Dimly, he was aware it was because he'd been picking at the massive scab that was his neck again. The afternoon sun had dipped low in the sky, and the shade of the alley chilled his bones. Touching the light was out of the question.
So, instead of crawling out to the warmth of sunset's rays, he just pulled his shirt tighter around him and ignored it. Something alive scampered over his bare ankles.
His head bumped against the same brick wall as he sat up, but who cared? What was one more ache to his hundreds? Palms up, he studied the way his fingers warped and spasmed in his fluid vision. The sun would reveal cracks, torn cuticles, and pasty white digits. In the shade, they just looked like claws.
He turned them over in front of him. He was missing the end of one of his pinkies. It handicapped his quirk, and that more than anything else reignited the rage in his heart. Mud and misery had dimmed the flames of wrath, but they still burned.
The red hue of rage tainted his already warped vision, blacking out splotches of his peripherals. It was a bright black, if one could find such a thing. Darker than any grey, but not the deepest darkness. That rabbit hole; the one of the deepest darknesses, was the reason he was in this mess.
Nothing ever seemed particularly dark after what'd happened. Even the evidence of his lacking nutrition.
Out of the corners of his eyes, where his vision was the darkest gray and otherwise blank, a darker shape manifested itself. Foggy, void black, and stressed. Whisps of smoke darker than deep space contrasted against two horizontal slits that represented eyes, all contained within a rustled suit.
"Oh thank the lord, Tomura. I've finally found you." The smoke-man said, rushing to his side. Like a mother hen, the smoke-man checked him over, pulling out gauze and vitamin supplements as he noted each injury and ailment on his body. For a moment, he didn't resist; falling back into the familiar pattern of his caretaker taking care of him.
"What've you done with your hair?" The newcomer muttered, turning his arms this way and that as he inspected him.
The hesitation didn't last for long. Before his vision even finished wobbling, the young man scrambled away, out of reach of the man's smoke-hands. He knew distance mattered little to this gaseous man, but the space instilled him with much-needed additional strength.
"Piss off! Tomura isn't your…! Get out of here!" The young man said, scrambling back. The smoke man was caught off guard; frozen in his surprise. A million things passed through the young man's head before the next words spilled out, none of those thoughts leashing his insolence.
"Tomura is dead god damnit! Tomura… T-tomura…? Fuck you!" The young man said. The smoke-man made something similar to a sigh as he floated towards him. The man raised his hands in the air like a surrender as he approached. Knowing the smoke-man, he'd probably think it'd placate him. It only brought back worse memories.
"I know you're confused and frightened, and probably hurting a lot right now, but it's ok. I'm here to take you back; back to base, back home. We'll fix you up good. Me and the doc, just like old times…" The smoke-man said. The young man grit his teeth, his fingernails digging into where a fresh wave of rage had flushed his cheeks.
"Bullshit! The doc is busy caring for… for that fucking body! That bastard doesn't give a damn about me. All he cares about is his little corpse." He said, spitting onto the smoke-man's leather shoes. The smoke-man sighed.
"Tomura, you know it's not a corpse. Master will recover, given enough time and effort. He always does."
"Stop fucking calling me that! I'm not fucking Tomura, you damn weasel. I'm… I-I'm T-t…" The young man stuttered, realizing he didn't quite know what to call himself.
"Yes, my boy, you are. All of us are waiting on Tomura to come back to us, so we can regroup. Ignore the doctor. You are our prince, and our king wishes you return to the castle."
The young man clutched at his stomach with the hand that wasn't scratching himself. Every word the familiar man said felt like a hammer blow, each worse than the last. A glob of blood splattered against the man's other shoe as he spat for a second time.
"The king is a filthy, dead fucking liar. The king took everything from me. My dignity, my goal, my fucking name." The young man spit out. Deep in the depths of his muddied, wrathful heart, a tiny light blinked on. One that hadn't been powered in a long time, one that looked a little different than it used to. A light tinged with the age of its bulb and the abuse of its technician.
Leaning against the brick wall, Tenko Shimura began to limp away. Kurogiri did not follow.