Chapter 14: Charcoal Burnings
Enji Todoroki burned. It was a simple fact of life. Of course, there was his quirk, Hellflame. But Hellflame alone didn't constitute even a small fraction of how much passion ran under his skin. Emotions fueled him, just like his flames. His life was a roaring challenge towards tomorrow, and that kind of challenge took fire. He burned today, although different from normal. Today his muscles were lava and his bones were magma. Scrapes, cuts, bruises, and first-degree burns littered his body. It was par for the course for a flame hero to work with firefighters. Rarely, however, did infernos of today's scale occur in the city.
He was immune to just about the hottest flames. Fire danced on his lips, for gods' sake. The heat had never been an issue to him, except in the direst of circumstances. Today, however, a massive factory burned to a crisp. It was a disaster; the fire had been so hot that the supports had turned into little more than puddles. That kind of heat would kill a normal man to just look at it. For him, it made him stumble standing within it.
It'd been a rough patrol; eight hours of straight crimefighting and disaster control took its toll. The only thing keeping him on his feet was the piping coffee in hand and the knowledge of his futon being a two-minute walk away. He was borderline asleep when his front door slid open in front of him, revealing his…eldest, second, and youngest keeping the company of someone he was very familiar with.
"What the hell?"
All parties, his bubbly daughter included, seemed to freeze at his presence. He looked between the five people in his mudroom, drinking in every detail. The children all had a different look on their face, but across the board, he could see their fear. At him, for the most part; although the Midoriya boy seemed more blank than anything. In shock rather than scared.
His oldest son, after a moment, shifted gears. Hostility seeped into every bone in his body, warping and shaping his posture into pure defiance.
"What the hell is right, old man. What are you doing here? It's only seven." Natsuo said. Enji grunted. It didn't fill his heart with joy to see his child acting out, but he couldn't blame him for being angry. Enji was angry himself, after all. Still, for the principle of it…
"Your father is home from work. Show some respect." He said. Enji could see how his entire face shifted, turning ugly as he clenched his teeth. Sipping his coffee, he shooed off his son while looking towards the Midoriyas.
"Be angry somewhere else, boy. What's going on here, Shoto? Finally following an order, huh?" Enji said, giving his youngest a brief look before zeroing in on the Midoriya boy. The kid was a short thing with big, tired eyes. Relatively athletic, if his collarbones were anything to go by. Lopsided posture. His eyes trailed down to the way his arm lay stiff at his side. Prosthetic?
The unfamiliar woman—his mother, by the looks—stepped in, covering her son's left flank. Protective, and unhappy by her expression.
"You weren't supposed to be here," Shoto said, and it was all Enji could do to not roll his eyes. His most defiant child by far, even if not the most outspoken. Also his most foolish, if he understood the situation. Trying to sneak the target of his interests under his nose? Perhaps they might've been successful if they'd accounted for all the variables. Namely, luck. A strong man never forgets about luck.
"Midoriya," he said, allowing his voice to drop an octave or three. "I've been meaning to reach out, but I thought having Shoto do it would be more appropriate. It seems my foolish son has helped me out in that regard."
"I didn't mean to—" Shoto started, but a waved hand silenced him. The room dropped a few degrees at his interruption. Endeavor flexed a little under his suit, returning the temperature to normal—above normal, in fact.
"Of course. Still, for bringing in guests without my permission, I suppose you could've done worse than the Midoriyas." He said, turning his gaze back to the mother and son. Many brats were starstruck by his appearance, but his presence seemed to have the opposite effect on the child. He seemed struck by something, but he doubted they were stars. Their shoes were on; they seemed to be on their way out. His neck itched where molten steel slapped him earlier.
"Mr. Todoroki," Ms. Midoriya began, stepping forward. The woman was tiny, only a bit taller than either of their young sons. Still, standing next to her felt like he was looking at eye level instead of his waist. "I've recently come into the understanding that you've been asking after my son quite often; and if your older son is to be believed, excessively at that. I would like a word."
"Of course," he said. "Fuyumi, you are dismissed. Shoto, head to my study. We'll be having words after this."
Enji downed the last of his coffee before they even reach the kitchen; he makes a perfect throw into the nearest trashcan as he passed. He'd been waiting on this conversation for months, and deep-tissue fatigue wasn't going to stop him. It never had before.
Izuku Midoriya, the boy who All Might sacrificed himself for. The boy who destroyed the Musutafu Park. A brat who'd jumped a live gunman, had a panic attack on a train, and was studying quirk theory unofficially at the second biggest quirk university in Tokyo. Really, the fact no one besides Nighteye had noticed the kid by now surprised him. An almost perfect candidate, minus his arm.
He takes them further into his home, not bothering them to take off their shoes when he himself hadn't. Fuyumi could handle a bit of scuff on the tatami mats. With Shoto and Fuyumi accounted for, he led them to where he knew Natsuo wouldn't loiter.
The doors to the training grounds slid open, revealing a spacious, stone room on the ground floor. He stepped over the occasional red stains, encouraging the Midoriyas to avoid them. On the opposite wall to the door were a table, chairs, and a refrigerator. Another chamber held the weights. He sat at the head of the table, furthest from the fridge, while mother and son sat next to each other opposite him.
Easing himself into his mahogany seat, he let out a mute sigh. It was the first time he'd sat down since noon. His spine felt like lead; heavy, poisonous, and cumbersome. Rolling his neck elicited six distinct pops. Worst of all, his shoulders felt like charcoal, and someone had held a match a little too close. Enji's age had never felt more apparent.
His overcoat sat on the back of his chair, relieving him of another layer. He rolled up his cuffs and unbuttoned the top of his shirt. No soul would blame him for getting more comfortable in his home, even with guests. He leaned into his elbows, threading his fingers together.
"So. My sons have notified you of my interest. Anything to offer that before we continue?"
"S-s-sorry." The younger of the two said, mumbling into his chest. Izuku Midoriya, the project of Sir Nighteye. The only sidekick of All Might to ever live. The only man worthy to stand at his rival's side had taken on a student. To what extent did Nighteye and Izuku Midoriya's relationship extend? Did it exist before the fallout of All Might's death? If it did, what would that mean for Midoriya's relation to All Might?
"What are you apologizing for, boy?" Enji asked. Ms. Midoriya put a hand on the boy's shoulder, steadying him like Enji's word had shaken him.
"We ate your food and entered your home without permission. P-please d-don't punish Shoto. He w-was just being nice…" Izuku said, voice cracking. Ah. A logical deduction, that he was mad. A right one, at that. The only problem being his anger's target.
"I could care less about eating dinner in my home. Shoto's fate does not rest on a dinner invitation."
"O-okay." The boy said, his eyes still locked on the table. His mother coughed into her fist.
"I think we deserve an explanation, sir. It was a shock to learn that Izuku had grabbed your son's interest, let alone your own. Especially as it seems the two are independent. So, Mr. Todoroki. Please explain." She said. A bandage on his waist pinched his abdomen. He scratched it as he recalled how he'd come to this situation.
His lust for recognition had led him to terrible places. Places he still visited, at times, but never at which he stayed for long. Of course, the most important of which were long gone, but there was room for improvement in what remained. What could be salvaged. Fortified.
The world needed that; fortification. Japan more than anywhere else. Izuku Midoriya just so happened to be what he was looking for, alongside his son. All Might had been a smug bastard, but he did a damn good job at keeping the peace. With him gone, the heavy hitters needed to find kids like Izuku and Shoto to make up for it. It was only down from here, after all.
"Being the number one hero affords one luxuries that are unexpected. One of which is having free reign over any classified information. I first heard of your son upon his accident; a civilian quirk exerting that amount of energy by accident is a big deal. Following that, I discovered his involvement with Mirai Sasaki, as well as a few… other details in the meantime." He said. He omitted how the boy had been the one on the news with All Might, and his more recent incident at the train. Just about every run-in the boy had with the hero world was on record somewhere. All it took to find it was to throw his weight around.
Ms. Midoriya seemed to roll that around in her head. He could feel how her foot tapped against the leg of the table; she was nervous, but he couldn't tell from what. Enji didn't give a damn about the train incident; he understood accidents happened. He wouldn't give a brat shit for poor quirk usage; wouldn't that just be the most hypocritical thing? The woman leaned into her son, whispering in his ear. After a silent conversation where she seemed to be the only one communicating, she turned back to him.
"Understood, sir. However, I'm still confused about the actual motive. You've explained the how, and now I want the why. Izuku, you're welcome to excuse yourself." She said, gesturing for her son to leave. Enji couldn't understand why the boy would leave, but had he decided to, Enji would've done nothing to stop him. The boy somewhat complied at first, standing into a half crouch before freezing. A million things seemed to go through his head before he slowly lowered himself back into his chair. Ms. Midoriya appeared surprised and concerned.
"That is simple, ma'am. We," Enji began, glancing at Izuku and then back to her. "Are in poor times with me at the helm. The Era of Peace is over, meaning everyone up top has to keep their eyes peeled for fresh talent. Blowing up a forest on accident was strong evidence in his favor."
Ms. Midoriya recoiled like he slapped her. Izuku actually looked up, surprised.
"My son lost his arm in that accident, and all you see is "fresh talent!?" She said, standing to her full height. She only barely meets his eyes despite him sitting down. It felt like he was craning his neck to see her.
"The classified information I read skimmed over that aspect, I admit." Enji turned to the boy, whose look had warped from borderline fear to something far more subdued, even allured. "I'm… sorry for your loss. Your spirit seems fierce, however. Tell me, are you Nighteye's apprentice?" He asked. At being addressed, Izuku turned his whole body to Enji, straining against the limits of the stiff chair. A light seemed to gleam in the boy's eyes, which'd remained hidden under his bangs until now.
"I… uh… I-I guess you could call me that. You aren't…?" The boy said, trailing off before he could finish his question. Enji waited a moment, but when the boy wasn't more forthcoming, Enji continued.
"Interesting. You could call Shoto my apprentice. I don't have as much… time these days, " or ruthlessness, he thought, "but I still train him personally most days of the week. Ultimately, I wanted Shoto to invite you to one of those sessions. If only to confirm your power." He said. It seemed his statement, a grand offer to most, send the mother and son in opposite directions. Ms. Midoriya seemed to tense up, becoming tighter and tighter in her posture till she was borderline stone. His words scared her, he realized. Of what, he couldn't be sure.
Izuku Midoriya was the opposite. He seemed to unravel, his core wound so tight that it only became apparent after he relaxed. Every millisecond Enji had seen Izuku, the boy had been on the brink. All the way up until his last words, the boy seemed like he was about to fall apart, and it was only clear because Izuku suddenly seemed like he wouldn't. His eyes softened, his shoulders slumped, and a sigh escaped his lips. Even a grin had snuck onto his face.
"Is that really it? I'm not… in trouble?" He asked, his voice light. Enji nodded; really, the boy should've expected this. Blowing up a forest on accident was exactly the kind of firepower the country needed without All Might. Logically, even if people had been in danger, no harm came to them. The country desperately needed that kind of firepower with the Symbol of Peace, and sacrificing a bit of forest to find it was a fair trade in Enji's books.
Still, the boy's previous misgivings and obvious apprehension spoke volumes of his experiences. Putting the pieces together was simple for a man like himself. Terrible trauma, physical, spiritual, and emotional; all of it intertwined and rooted deep in the boy. He could tell at a glance. Enji, however, was different than many men like himself. He was intimately familiar with these terrible feelings. He'd spent many years under the same roof as them, to his chagrin.
"Are you worried that I'd… hold some sort of grudge? For what happened?" Enji said, waving his hand in a vague manner, as if gesturing to the boy's memories themself. The loose Izuku Midoriya reverted for a moment, returning the boy to the brink.
"M-m-may-mayb-be…" Izuku said, his eyes a little too cold for a boy his age. Enji, as a citizen and as a hero, had seen that look a thousand times. Haunted, paper-thin, on the edge. He'd seen the look in survivors of terrorism, on those the deceased left behind, on officers who'd been on the force for too long. He'd seen the look on Rei after Touya fell apart. Survivor's guilt.
In a burst of, perhaps inappropriate, fatherly feelings, Enji stood up and walked to Izuku's side, placing his large hand on the small boy's free shoulder. Ms. Midoriya leaned in, as if he would hurt the boy. It was clear to Enji now why the boy seemed so jumpy.
"He may be gone, but nobody will ever forget him. You least of all. You want to be a hero, yes?" Enji started, a smidge blunter than appropriate. He weathered Ms. Midoriya's glare. Izuku gave a single, sharp nod. "Thought so. Then remember this. The world needs more, stronger heroes, and fast. I will keep this country afloat until your generation is ready. Should Nighteye permit it, I would have you join Shoto for a session. What say you, Midoriya?"
The fog lifted from Izuku Midoriya's expression, and that was that.
[x]
Enji let his head rest against the door to his study. He could hear Shoto pacing in the room, bored and agitated. The Midoriyas had left a few minutes ago, draining much of the mental stimuli he was in desperate need of. It'd been a good talk, if unexpected. His body was closing in on total shutdown; every inch of him was begging for sleep, but he cast his body's protests aside. He still had things to do tonight.
Turning the knob, Enji slipped into the room. Shoto froze, standing near a lamp he must've been fiddling with. Both males walked to their respective seats, with Enji careful not to get too comfortable in his; he couldn't risk falling asleep. Both boys gave each other stern stares, neither happy about the meeting. Shoto, because agitation dripped off him coming in and he disliked sharing a space with his father. Enji, because he felt like he'd already gotten his lashings today and Shoto's actions today couldn't be left for tomorrow.
"You invited the Midoriya's here. I'd tell you "good job" if you hadn't tried to pull a fast one on me." Enji said. Shoto shifted in his seat, his hands gripping his pantlegs as he glared at Enji.
"Whatever. What is this about?" He asked. Enji let the question hang as he considered it. It'd become more and more apparent, at least to Enji, that he had no idea what to do with his son. Without All Might, his desire to forge a warrior to beat him had dwindled to nothing.
Perhaps, one of the reasons he'd been so interested in Izuku Midoriya was that very reason. His life had flipped upside down ever since the man's death, and discovering the boy had been the catalyst of that change drew his attention.
Another could be the obvious hero material. The boy's quirk was still a mystery, but whatever it was, it had some high horsepower. It was the kind of power that the Commission was lusting after, the kind of power that Japan needed in the coming times. He doubted it came close to Shoto's potential, but if the boy learned to channel his strength, he'd certainly crack the top ten, maybe even revolutionize it.
Finally, maybe a small part of him was reminded of his youngest son. Wildly powerful, scarred, and prepubescent were the first to come to mind. If the two maintained a track to heroism, it was entirely possible that they'd end up in the same class.
In him asking Shoto to become acquainted with Izuku, he'd been doing many different things. Sticking his nose into someone else's business, firstly. The boy was Nighteye's project; he had no right to swoop in and cultivate him, nor the time to do so. He couldn't help himself, however. What could he say? He had an eye for power.
Second, he'd been trying to give Shoto the push he needed to change. Enji wasn't a moron; he had millions of things to atone for, chief of which was his youngest. He'd forced his child to slave away for a dream that died before he even had hair on his balls. Vast corrections needed to be made to set him straight. He would not lose another son.
Shoto needed to be a hero; he was built for it, atom by atom, but Enji was tired. Tired of forcing his son to do his bidding. Tired of lying to the world. Shoto needed to be a hero, but on his own terms. Enji hoped reaching out to a peer of his would be the right kind of push; indirect, but calculated.
"Well? Are you gonna say anything?" Shoto asked. Enji started, brought out of his musings much too abrupt. Flames flickered on his lips.
"I invited Izuku Midoriya to a training session. He seemed pleased by the invitation." Enji said. Shoto scoffed, his upper lip curling in a way that reminded Enji of a mirror.
"Why?" Shoto asked. To what, he couldn't care less.
"It doesn't concern you, boy. Izuku will tell you his answer two days from now, next you see him. One more thing." Enji said, pausing to study his disgruntled son. "You will not lie to me again. I do not care if it is a cover-up or a white lie, you will tell nothing but the truth under my roof. Dismissed."
His last word sent Shoto straight to action, ripping free of his seat and storming out of the room. The boy only slowed at the threshold, where he hesitated while looking down the hall to something Enji couldn't see. After a moment, the boy continued his angry march out.
Enji leaned into his seat for the first time since sitting down, allowing his shoulders to hit the cushioned back of his expensive furniture. His vision swam, warping enough that his depth perception felt awkward. Sleep was a seductive mistress, but he was a married man.
Hobbling to the door, he turned the opposite way Shoto had gone—straight to his chambers. Turning to the hall, however, proved a more intense task than he imagined. At the end of the hall was a sentinel, white-haired and angry. Natsuo leaned against the door to Enji's room, his fists clenched like loosening them spelled his death. Enji straightened, taking the challenge head-on.
When he was face to face with his oldest living son, he stopped. Enji said nothing, just crossing his arms and waiting. Natsuo was his mouthiest child, and he doubted he'd be kept waiting. That assumption was correct.
"What the fuck did you do to that kid? I saw the way you touched his arm. You aren't a dad, Endeavor. Especially not to that Izuku kid." Natsuo said through gritted teeth. Enji grunted. So, Natsuo had done a bit of spying.
"I am your father, boy. Do not patronize me under my own roof." He said, low and with a hint of Endeavor slipping through. Natsuo's balled fists pointed down as he got into Endeavor's face. He wasn't as tall as him yet, but he was getting close.
"Quit playing the good dad. You're fucking not." Natsuo said, before storming away, not unlike his brother. Enji, or maybe Endeavor, watched his son walk away until the man was out of sight. Only then did he open the door to his personal room and relax. The bed tugged at his soul, begging and screaming for him to lay in it, but Enji denied it once more.
Methodical and slow, Enji Todoroki slipped off his watch, placing it on the counter. One by one, he put his outer clothe away and his under clothes into a hamper. Now in a bathrobe, Enji slipped to his knees before his bedside table. The cushion kept his knees from aching, but helped little to steady his posture. Still, he was careful and controlled as he unfurled a piece of reed-paste paper and uncapped his inkwell.
Enji Todoroki burned, that was a fact of life. Another fact was that he was a mediocre man and a bad father. One more fact? He missed his wife.
A fine-tipped brush dipped into his inkwell and danced across his paper as he wrote Rei another letter she'd never read.
[x]
"Roll that by me one more time, Midoriya. I didn't have my glasses on; I couldn't hear you." Nighteye said. Izuku had burst in this morning and headed straight for him. It'd been a surprise; he'd been radio silent for a few days. Usually, they kept in touch often enough, but this week he'd been surprisingly quiet. All he'd asked of Nighteye was to give him a free day so he could go to a dinner.
So, when the boy had come in and splurged about every thought in his head at once, Nighteye had slowed him down. Putting a steadying hand on Izuku's shoulder, he leveled him with a calm look. Izuku took in a big breath, before letting it all loose again.
"So I went to Endeavor's house because I'm friends with his son and he invited me to dinner but I didn't want to go because Endeavor's been kind of stalking me apparently but I couldn't really say no so when we went we had a good dinner but Endeavor showed up as a surprise and we talked and it turns out he didn't want to thank me for his promotion or blame me for the thing and he actually invited me to come again do a practice session with his son my friend and I kind of said yes so how would that work?"
Gran Torino whistled behind him.
"I—uh, I think we could figure something out." Nighteye muttered, dragging a hand down his face. It was too early for this shit.
Chapter 15: Kingdoms Congregate
"Demonstrate yourself." Endeavor said, standing in full gear before Izuku and Shoto. Izuku shifted, uncomfortable with how bare he was in front of the Todorokis. In all honesty, the shirt he was wearing was the last left in the wash, and he didn't have time to get something else. He shivered; the pink steggo tank top was less foreign than when he first got it, but it was no less embarrassing.
"Yes, sir."
Stirring the pot of One for All, he coaxed Smokescreen to life. Dropping his jaw and flaring his nostrils as wide as they'd go, Izuku assumed a back-footed Taekwondo stance and let it all go.
Smokescreen did all the work for him, now. At first, he'd convinced himself he was limited to one big breath per cloud. It'd been a flawed and problematic understanding of how to use his power. First, it meant he only got one serious blast of smoke. After expelling his lung capacity, the air next to him remained tainted enough that he couldn't just make another inhale.
Second, it was just wrong. Ms. Fujimaki had figured it out herself, to his embarrassment. It wasn't even that complicated. He wasn't actively pushing the smoke out of his pores, he was releasing it. That meant the Smokescreen wanted freedom by default and would push itself free when given the chance. It was like helium escaping a balloon when someone undid the knot. The difference between him and a balloon, however, was that he wasn't limited to just the air on his insides.
If he let his quirk go, Smokescreen would push to escape, pulling the air in his lungs with it. So why close his mouth, limiting his capacity?
Air was pulled into his lungs as the air leaving his lungs left a natural vacuum, and the cycle repeated itself. It wasn't sustainable for long, but it even gave him a bit of oxygen back in the process. He could constantly emit, as of last week's test, for four minutes straight if he wanted to.
"Your file said nothing of smoke. What of the giant explosion?" Endeavor said, making eye contact with Izuku as he manipulated a tunnel between them so they could speak. A cough to the side interrupted him before he could reply. A moment later, two more tunnels appeared in the growing cloud for both Shoto and Sir Nighteye.
"His quirk is an exponential stamina-to-energy generator that manifests in different ways. What happened at Musutafu is what happens when he lets it all loose. This is just one facet of his power, what we've spent the last months honing alongside his combat ability." Nighteye said, holding a handkerchief to his nose. Endeavor grunted, running his eyes across his exposed frame and smoke tunnels. Izuku like the tunnels; it made him feel like a mole, but with air instead of dirt.
"Fascinating. Does he have physical amplification?" He asked.
"Yes, but we do not train it. We believe he will need to be in peak physical condition before we broach that subject. Such is why we have focused on this emitter aspect. Izuku, Orb Attack Pattern B." Nighteye said. Izuku grinned; Orb Attack Pattern B was his favorite creation thus far.
His cloud filled almost half the room when Izuku began condensing it. It took a lot of effort, but dramatically less compared to what it took two months ago when he'd figured it out. The tunnels collapsed as the cloud went from fifteen meters across to ten to five. Sweat trickled down his forehead as five meters became his wingspan. Reaching both arms out as far as he could, he tried to crush the remaining cloud down tighter. With his concentration through the roof, he likened himself to Michelangelo. Just, instead of molding stone, he was molding his own gaseous emissions. It was laughably easy to condense a large cloud, but once it got down to less than a meter, it took a toll. His teeth ground together as he willed the smoke to heel, the base of his skull starting to ache from the effort.
"It's an attack; it takes a massive toll, but it packs enough punch to knock a normal man out cold. Liken it to a supermove, if you will. Would you care for him to damage your wall or you?" Nighteye said, explaining Izuku's actions to Endeavor in his place, Izuku's focus too intense to disturb. The man took no time to answer, stepping forward while flames licked his arm bracers.
"Hit me, boy. Hold nothing back." Endeavor said.
Izuku moved carefully. His smoke responded more to his actions than his thoughts, and when smoke was compacted this tightly, even the tiniest awkward shift could blow up in his face. Reaching out to his creation, he guided it between himself and Endeavor. A dark green orb, about a foot and a half in diameter, hovered before him. It's edgest were uncertain and forever shifting, never settling in place for long. A pang of guilt bubbled up in his chest, but he squashed it. The man was a professional, and they were in a safe space. There was no chance of really hurting anyone. He didn't see how Nighteye took a slight step in front of Shoto.
Redoubling the pressure on all sides of the orb except Endeavor's, Izuku exhaled, bracing himself.
With a heads-up blink at the mountain of a man before him, Izuku let go.
The room screamed as the air tore free of Izuku's grip, wind whipping up from nowhere as his smoke-canon fired off towards Endeavor. A second gust of warmer wind tussled his hair and stung his eyes as a blood-red wall of flames erupted before him.
His ears popped as he shielded his eyes from the sheer heat—because wow, Endeavor's flames were hot—and stumbled back. Blinking away the sting in his eyes, Izuku looked around for the number one hero. With his smoke uncontrolled and Endeavor's fire rampaging against it, the room had become hazy once more.
"Mr. Todoroki!?" Izuku called out. For a split second of pure, ice-in-your-veins stillness, he didn't get a reply. Then, Endeavor's large silhouette made itself clear amongst the remaining smoke. A headache gripped him, but that didn't stop Izuku from dispersing his smoke around the man. It was only polite.
Endeavor looked like a motor vehicle had torn through the facility just to run him over. It wasn't like a train or even a car, but it seemed similar to being in a head-on collision with a four-wheeler. Izuku's attack had left the man's suit untouched, minus his bracers. Those had cracks and green stains that looked irreparable. The man was rubbing his left wrist while walking with the slightest limp. His hair looked like he'd stuck his head out of a car like a dog.
When Izuku thought Endeavor would stop and speak to him, he was wrong. The man walked straight past him, not sparing him a glance as he got to the fridge and proceeded to down an entire water bottle at once. Unsure what to do, Izuku followed his lead and also took a bottle to drink. Letting Smokescreen pull air through his mouth without his active input dried out his throat. He took a small sip.
"A-are you ok, Mr. Todoroki?" Izuku asked, craning his neck to look at the man's windblown mane. Endeavor grunted.
"Good attack, kid. Could you do it again?"
"Not unless you want me to sleep for a week."
"Why? You're not tired, are you? You don't look worse for wear besides the heavy breathing."
"Well," Izuku started, "controlling the smoke is like using a mental muscle. I haven't been mentally powerlifting for very long, so manipulating the smoke is hard after controlling that much. Also, doing big emissions dries out my throat, and that hurts after a while."
Endeavor seemed to consider that information as he drank another whole water bottle.
The man ended up giving Izuku a break as the two sat together at the same table they'd made this agreement on last week. Together, they watched Nighteye grill Shoto about his own power and made him do demonstrations as well. The heterochromatic boy's talent entranced him; his strength was nothing to scoff at, and his control was way better than his. Izuku knew, logically, that Shoto must've been a powerhouse, but he hadn't seen it in action.
Of course, the boy wasn't a perfect prodigy, but he was good. His ice especially was well-controlled and considerate. Endeavor told him that he didn't use his fire as often as he should, but even so, the tiny flecks of flame that did escape the boy left no one worse for wear. Izuku could understand that. Big displays of power, especially ones that reminded him of his injury, were a bit of a turn-off.
Endeavor seemed on edge while Nighteye instructed Shoto, as if the man would somehow mess up. Even as Shoto smiled and thanked Nighteye, he seemed alarmed.
"He won't hurt Shoto, y'know. He's a v-very good teacher." Izuku said, quiet enough for only the flame hero to hear. The hulking mass of muscle at his side shifted.
"Of course. That isn't my concern…" Endeavor said. Izuku didn't challenge him on that, instead falling back into silence as they spectated the whole interaction.
It was Gran Torino's idea for them to do a mentor swap. Originally, Izuku was just going to demonstrate his power and drill alongside his friend, but upon telling Endeavor of the older man's idea, he jumped for it. Both the children would get more out of the individual session, and he would still get his curiosity sated.
It continued like that for a while, with Shoto sending barrages of ice spikes, walls, and overall difficult terrain Nighteye's way while the man slipped past, spun around, and evaded each attack. All the while, Shoto weathered the consistent flow of critiques with an odd smile on his face, like being outmaneuvered in every way was a pleasant experience. It was weird, but cool.
When they finished, Nighteye signaled Izuku to begin stretching. He didn't know why, but he was happy to. The room was quite chilly after Shoto's efforts, and the idea of warming up sounded great.
After stretching and throwing out a few experimental kicks, Nighteye fished out a tripod. A camera was plopped ontop of it, set up to point at Izuku. Endeavor watched the process, his eyes scrunched together.
"What's with the camera? I did not say you could film in my home." He said, grunting. Nighteye shook his head, throwing the man a small bow.
"Of course, but… you want our apprentices to spar, don't you? Filming Izuku's spars is a standard part of our process." Nighteye said.
"Fine, but it stays private."
"Of course, sir."
Izuku was borderline bouncing in place as he finished his stretches, nervous excitement sparking through his veins. He'd never sparred against someone his own age. His size, for sure, but not a peer. Gran Torino was his height, but the older man had literal decades of experience that made his fighting capacity closer to that of an average hero in their prime. That wasn't even considering his quirk, which escalated him into the upper echelon of combat heroes.
He kept himself warm for a few minutes while Shoto regained his breath and took deep sips from his water. His eyes trailed down Shoto's fire half as the boy got closer, intrigued as he realized the boy didn't warm up or stretch. In fact, now that he thought about it, the boy hadn't stretched or warmed up for Nighteye's evaluation either.
"Hey, does your warm side keep you loose? Do you not get stiff muscles?" Izuku asked. Shoto faltered.
"I… I guess? I don't put much thought into it." He said, casting a questioning glance at his father. Endeavor nodded, pushing off the wall he was leaning on to get next to Nighteye.
"We stretch to increase our flexibility. Our inner heat handles everything else."
Izuku filed that away for later, wondering if One for All could work in a similar way.
"Enough dilly-dallying. Time to test yourselves." Nighteye said, slipping the heat-vision lens over the camera's front and tapping a button.
"Show some restraint in your quirks, don't knock anyone's teeth out. All else is fair game." Endeavor said. "Begin."
Izuku whipped his head to the side as an ice spike the size of a traffic cone flew past his face. Light on his feet, he fluttered to the side, dodging and evading subsequent projectiles. He was careful never to get farther away. If he got too far, he knew he'd it'd be an uphill battle to get back in.
Shoto also seemed to understand that. Knowing Izuku was running empty on offense gave him the confidence to keep his distance. He started backing up, erecting ice barriers between them while launching his spikes from the comfort of his fortress. Izuku was hard-pressed to stay safe, but if he'd become good at anything in the last six months, it was dodging.
He let spikes get close before evading them by a hair's breadth, never once taking his eyes off his opponent. Jump over one, roll to the left, duck, spin, and ignore a couple; the boy's aim wasn't perfect, and it gave Izuku a free second to think every few volleys. It was a blessing, that extra time, but it was also a curse.
Shoto's visage warped like it would within circus mirrors. The light refracted in awkward and inaccurate ways through the boy's walls of ice, stretching, rending, and duplicating his appearance across several feet. It was frustrating to not be confident in the simplest aspect of fighting: knowing where your opponent was. Even if Izuku had his "Screw everything in that direction" Orb Attack, he wasn't confident it'd even hit, given how skewed Izuku's perception was.
Still, two could play at that game.
Loosening his jaw and flaring his nostrils, Izuku burst into a human smoke bomb, screwing Shoto's own ability to see. Dashing out of his growing cloud, trailing smoke like a comet in the atmosphere. His movements were jagged, uneven, and as physically obtuse as Izuku could manage. Shoto would know that the smoke's spearhead would be his body, so Izuku made sure to double back more than once, trying to be as unpredictable as possible.
The ice volleys increased dramatically, the spikes becoming larger and with less delay between the two, yet none touched him. Izuku always kept a small smoke tunnel open for his eyes, just to watch his opponent. He only abandoned the technique when he needed the absolute certainty of complete camouflage.
Izuku was in another cloud of his own creation as he heard a yell of frustration. A wall of ice, bigger than anything seen today, whipped past his body like a train. Lucky for him, it bludgeoned the decoy smokescreen. Not wasting another moment, Izuku used the moment Shoto needed to charge another attack to leap over one of the protective walls he'd erected earlier.
Shoto's uninjured eye widened as Izuku landed on him legs-first, slamming his left kneecap into the boy's fire shoulder. The boy hit the ground hard, Izuku rolling off him in a smooth motion. He kept his right side forward as always, but leaned further into his stance than normal. His knee stung; a brief glance told him that the pantleg was charred where it made contact with the boy.
Shoto groaned as he got to his feet, a suspiciously knee-sized blackened circle over his injured shoulder. Soot darkened the air as Shoto swiped at his ruined shirt. Settling into a low stance, Shoto stomped into the ground as ice burst out from below Izuku. Escaping meant sacrificing a sneaker, but Izuku was willing to make that trade.
Izuku was on the backfoot the second his feet touched the ground. Shoto sent two walls up on either of their sides, putting the two in a tight hallway. Without a sneaker and a bum knee, Izuku didn't have enough gusto to leap out the open top, nor the tools to face Shoto head-on.
Orange light flickered to life, the ice refracting it everywhere as Shoto raised a single hand, his posture straightening to an almost casual stance.
"Yield." He said, the dull glow in his hand beginning to grow more fierce. Izuku froze. It was obvious to him, by this point, that he'd essentially lost. He'd got a good hit in, but he'd been out-maneuvered and boxed it. Logically, as a training exercise, this is where he should let things end.
Still, a little voice in the back of his head urged him on. To fight, to try and salvage this. Izuku's blood, usually calm and regulated, began to burn. Goosebumps washed over his whole body just as his vision sharpened. He wanted to win. His body started to scream at him, egging him on, blood pounding in his ears louder and louder as his escape window grew ever more slender. His everything, body and soul, itched as one thought burst into existence, unbidden: He needed to win. A blinding discomfort burst into existence behind his eyes, but he cast away the pain. His heart pounding in his chest, he shifted his stance into one that ignored his bad knee. He shook his head.
"Sorry, pass." He took a step forward just as Shoto's burning hand exploded, a fireball firing in his direction. Izuku threw himself against the wall as a small, concentrated burst of Smokescreen shot out of his hands and blinded Shoto, sending the fireball off course.
Melting a hole into the wall, Izuku had the chance to escape and reengage later. It would be the smarter thing to do, the thing he would've normally jumped at before his adrenaline kicked up this high. Another part of him, however, this new, excited part that reminded him of something oddly familiar, told him otherwise.
Blinded, on a cool-down, and trapped in place by the walls of his own creation, Shoto was a sitting duck. Throwing caution to the wind, Izuku sprinted at the boy. He closed in just as Shoto's hand began to burn once again, but by then, Izuku thought it was too late. Putting everything into avoiding the glowing hand, Izuku threw a haymaker in Shoto's face.
For a brief, exhilarating second, his knuckles contacted Shoto's scar. Before the full force of his hit went through, however, something cold slammed into his left flank. Shoto's ice-encased fist sent him stumbling off the boy onto the floor, arm clutching his gut. Within a second, a jail of ice encased Izuku. Spit trickled out of his mouth as he gasped, trying and failing to pull air into his shocked lungs.
"Stop!" Endeavor roared, marching over to the two boys. A few seconds went by before Izuku could finally inhale, almost crying as the air tasted so good on his tongue. The cage melted around him as the flame hero got close, setting him free.
Izuku remained curled in a ball, nursing his aching gut. He listened as Endeavor dragged Shoto away and Nighteye approached, but no one bothered him for almost a minute before he got up himself, unsteady and awkward. Nighteye slipped a hand under his armpit and helped him walk over to the table where the Todorokis sat.
No one said anything as the two boys made eye contact, a small tension building up as the two continued to stare. Nighteye pushed up his glasses, looking away. Endeavor drummed his fingers on a table, a faraway look in his eyes. When it seemed no one would save him from speaking first, Izuku gave in.
"G-good punch, Shoto. Really hurt." Izuku said, turning his gaze to his aching stomach. Shoto wore a ghost of a smile as he hovered fingers over his scar.
"I can say the same to you. In all honesty, I hope you don't mind, but I never expected that much challenge from you. Really, you almost had me." Shoto said. Izuku gave him a weak smile, nodding. He understood; people built like him weren't usually the way he was. Endeavor grunted.
"For sure. Shoto, do not get too happy. You missed more than you landed, and you let frustration get the best of you. Still, you… didn't do awful. Nighteye?" Endeavor said, turning to the other hero. It was a mentor swap, after all, they both needed to give their input. There was a look in his eyes, however, that Izuku found to be crocodilian. Nighteye cleared his throat as he stopped fiddling with the camera.
"It was good of you to keep your distance, but Izuku, as he is now, isn't very physically impressive. Athletically, you still outstrip him, and that's not even considering his arm. Despite keeping your distance the whole fight, it ended in close quarters anyways. I recommend more hand-hand training. One thing I must compliment you on was your diversion towards the end. You grabbed Izuku's attention with a glowing fist on purpose, didn't you?"
"Sort of, sir. It was sloppy since I was blind. I couldn't tell if he fell for it or not, or even if he was even coming at first. The diversion was on purpose, but the fact that it worked at all was just a happy accident." Shoto said.
"Wasn't so happy for me, y'know?" Izuku muttered, before blushing as everyone turned to him. Shoto's passive face bloomed into a smile, a small chortle escaping him. Endeavor gave him the opposite look.
"It shouldn't have even been that close, boy. You had Shoto by the balls from the beginning, and even when he cornered you, you could've outmaneuvered him." Endeavor said, crossing his arms. Nighteye nodded.
"Indeed. No offense to Shoto, but Izuku manipulated the fight to his advantage very well. You might've even been able to finish him after the first hit had you not hesitated, or the second if Shoto hadn't gotten lucky. You got ahead of yourself towards the end, though. Like Icarus and the Sun. You know better than anyone that leaving your flank open like that is not an option. We're going to need to double down on your sparring if you're still pretending like you have a left arm." Nighteye said. Izuku winced, locking his gaze on the table. That was harsh, but maybe not unwarranted. He'd definitely gotten sloppy towards the end.
"The ending wasn't even the most egregious part. Your quirk usage was mediocre at best. It may be used primarily for support and cover, but you've already proven you've learned to bend it to fill other roles in a fight as well. Why didn't you?" Endeavor asked. Locking eyes with the number one hero, Izuku felt a spike of annoyance.
"I couldn't! I already showed you my best attack earlier, and you know I can't just use those willy-nilly. I was stuck with just diversion and stealth for that whole thing." Izuku said.
At this, Endeavor scrunched his brow, leaning forward in his chair. Shoto inched his chair away from his father. Nighteye adjusted his tie.
"Don't patronize me, brat. I have forgotten nothing. What is frustrating me is your lack of imagination. Why weren't you propelling?" Endeavor said, almost growling. Izuku fidgeted in his seat.
"Propelling?"
At this question, Endeavor paused, eyes widening. Like a panning camera, he turned towards Nighteye, his posture now lax and tranquil, like a candle. His eyes told a different story, however; his eyes were burning, raging like the flames of a cremating fire.
"Have you not taught him how to propel?" He asked, voice quiet. Nighteye looked almost as confused as Izuku felt.
"I… uhm, no, I have not. Would you mind explaining, please?" Nighteye asked, more nervous than he'd ever sounded. Endeavor continued to stare at the man, expression blank but for a single twinkle in his eye. Long, slow seconds passed before he exhaled.
"You can not be serious. I refuse to believe a man of your caliber had overlooked such… such a fundamental ability of our emitter subclass. Lord… brat." He said, turning to Izuku. "Question. How do I fly?"
Izuku's racing mind slowed down.
"You… you expel your flames downwards like rocket thrusters. The downward force exceeds gravity." He said while Endeavor nodded.
"Now how do I move so fast? Hint, my constitution only extends to heat tolerance. I'm no stronger than a normal man, just more durable."
"You expel your flames to the sides. The opposite direction you're moving. You can punch so hard because you push your flames out your elbows. Your kicks come from the flames on your heels. You… Oh."
Izuku's mind ground to a halt and stayed like that for a long while.
[x]
The car ride home was awkward and silent, for the most part. Of course, Izuku was too busy holding on for dear life to speak anyways. For a long while, the only sounds were the dull hum of the AC and the occasional metal twang as he shifted gears. It was calm, serene, even. The ideal driving conditions.
The noon sun was high in the sky, casting a comfortable shade on the driver's seat. Pedestrians seemed to have better things to do; Nighteye didn't even see one jaywalker. Even if he did, he wouldn't bother to pull over for it. Sure, he'd send them a stern glance, but today had drained all the energy out of the typical stickler.
Propelling wasn't some foreign concept to Nighteye, but it had slipped his mind. Slipped his mind! He supposed blaming himself was illogical; neither he nor All Might had such a spartan emitter quirk, so he wasn't familiar with it. Gran Torino, per his request, had taken somewhat of a backseat in Izuku's training. Perhaps, had the older man involved himself more, this wouldn't have happened, but he doubted it. Nighteye was regretting that now.
Embarrassment had never gripped him harder in life, bar nothing. Of course, he'd lived a long life of shameful, embarrassing mistakes. It was normal. Your first kiss is awkward. Maybe you get pantsed in grade school. Maybe you stall out in an intersection, or you get caught in the school closet with your girlfriend. All of it paled in comparison to this oversight.
Propelling wasn't even important, in the grand scheme of things. With the potential strength of All Might at his fingertips, Izuku wouldn't need the additional speed or strength propelling granted emitters. Taking the time to learn it could even be counterproductive; taking time away from learning more useful things could be a waste once Izuku became proficient in One for All. It could render the time spent useless.
Even considering all of that, however, it still felt like a mistake. Izuku wouldn't be ready to touch the superstrength aspect of his quirk for at least three years, let alone train it. The boy needed to get further along with puberty, and then he needed to weight train. There was a mountain of time between now and then. Then, he'd need to re-learn how to fight at high speeds, a tall order itself. That wasn't considering how his time would divide once he got into U.A. Izuku needed time, more than they had. Still…
Maybe propelling wouldn't be useless. Perhaps it was a good thing to be made into a fool in front of the number one hero. Even if propelling would eventually become obsolete, the lessons learned in mastering it wouldn't be. More precise quirk control, greater quirk strength, and even a dip into the world of highspeed combat were reasonable results of learning the skill.
He sighed; that was another problem. Neither Nighteye nor Gran Torino were good teachers for propelling. Sorahiko would be better, but would still fall short. It was just a fundamental truth of their quirks and experience.
Traditional emitters like Endeavor and Izuku grew rarer and rarer each year as quirks grew more complicated. Eventually, they'd probably die out. Of course, Izuku wasn't exactly traditional, but Smokescreen was. If only the boy could just ask the original user. He couldn't, however, so he was back to square one, with a single candidate that made his insides squirm to think about.
Facing Endeavor after today's embarrassment would take more grit, courage, and tenacity than he'd ever needed. Not going to his girlfriend's house before U.A.'s big dance, not his first real hero mission, not even assisting All Might in his war against All for One compared. Thinking of asking Endeavor for more help left his gut churning and head aching. If he didn't find a better option soon, he'd have to settle for it, though. Izuku's growth came before his pride.
"What did you think of Endeavor, sir?" Izuku asked, eyes still following the outline of the buildings slipping past. As a kid, Nighteye had often pretended to see incredible parkour runners jumping from rooftop to rooftop. Knowing the way modern heroes liked to showboat, Izuku might be seeing the real version.
"Well," Nighteye started, thumb rubbing agitated circles into the gearstick, "He seemed knowledgeable and informative, if not a bit gruff. I've worked with him in the past; he seemed… more mellow, now. I think we all are."
The window on Izuku's side rolled down a bit, sending a warm gust through the car that ruffled Nighteye's neat hair. He didn't mind too much.
"You saw how he was glaring at you? Like he was going to eat you if you turned away for too long." Izuku said, his voice muffled by the roar of wind in his ears. His thumb's circles slowed to a stop.
"Indeed. He seemed on edge. I wouldn't know why." Nighteye said. Silence lapsed between them after that, returning the vehicle to tired silence. There was nothing else to say. Nighteye's thoughts wandered to his growing backlog of paperwork, and where Izuku's training would take them next. He didn't expect any more words to be shared between them, but when they were, he could only just make them out over the open window.
"He seemed surprised Shoto was smiling when you were beating him."
Chapter 16: Imposter
Blinking in tandem with the lazy fan blades overhead, Shoto sighed. He didn't need the bed rest, but his father barred him from training. Something about his shoulder needing to heal after Izuku kneeing it full force. Izuku hadn't broken anything, but it'd been a near thing. He'd already visited his father's private physician and was technically cleared, but his dad still canceled training for the day. Now, he was at a loss.
Shoto didn't consider what to do on the weekend much. For most of his life, weekends were busy days of brutal training, mixed with long nights of monotonous studying. Now, the training took up barely a fraction of his day, giving him freedoms he was still accustoming himself to. School usually kept him on his toes, of course, but he had free time nowadays. It'd been hard to balance before, when he at least had a semblance of normality with school and some training, but having a whole day to himself? It was driving him up the wall.
Not literally; as of now, he had counted four hundred and nineteen full rotations of his overhead fan. It was all he could really do, without homework or training on the table.
Foregoing the overhead fan, Shoto turned onto his stomach and groaned. The spar yesterday had been interesting, to say the least. The fight with Nighteye had shown him a lot; what he was lacking, what he had in abundance, and even avenues for future growth. Not only was the man a legend in the hero community, but he was down to earth and almost relaxed compared to his father. Even when the man kicked him in the stomach, he was able to stand back up afterward. Had he been training with his father, standing right back up wouldn't have been on the table.
Informative, merciful, and easy to talk with; the ideal teacher. A bitter smile tugged at his lips at the thought. Shoto would never call Izuku lucky, but the boy had gotten a good deal with Nighteye.
And boy, sparring with Izuku just proved that. Of course, he knew Izuku was both more passionate and more motivated than him to improve, but Shoto had a massive headstart on the guy. Having more arms, for one. More training from a pro hero, for another. He'd never suspected that Izuku's training, which hadn't even reached a year yet, could compare to his seven.
Their fight had been close, and had only fallen in his favor by chance. Especially when he considered how Izuku had already let off his ace in the hole that day. Had Izuku still had that one in the back pocket, Shoto doubted he could've won without matching him. He winced, thinking about his ace. His biggest attack, wasted on a decoy. Shoto could feel in his bones how he'd be learning from that mistake later.
Rolling onto his side, his mind continued to wander. He thought of Izuku, and his motivations and talents. He thought of his father, and the troubling aura he felt from him the day prior. He considered Nighteye, his fire, and his mom.
His thoughts evaporated as his phone buzzed on his desk. Careful not to agitate his shoulder, he retrieved it at the expense of speed. By the time he'd grabbed it and laid back in his bed, three more buzzes had gone off. Squinting at his phone, Shoto could barely make out message notifications while his eyes adjusted to the sudden brightness.
Izuku Midoriya: Would you like to hang out? My dinner friend, Set, wants to meet you. No school or anything. Just maybe food and walking around.
Izuku Midoriya: Hiiiiiiiiii
Izuku Midoriya: I need to make sure you're good for the boy since you're replacing me :))
Izuku Midoriya: I'm so sorry. Please ignore that, she stole my ph
Shoto raised an eyebrow as another text came through.
Izuku Midoriya: I am izuku and am very polite ooooh aaaahh I heard you sent izu packing. I respect that. U don't gotta come over or anything, but it will be fun if u do
A small smile crept onto Shoto's face as similar messages continued to roll through. His shoulder hurt; it still ached, really, but there wasn't anything wrong with it. If a bit of pain was the only sacrifice to get out of his godforsaken house, then by god would he feel pain.
Shoto: K. Where, when?
[x]
"You two are so dramatic! It sounds like some sort of anime battle or something. Simultaneous punches? Seriously?" Setsuna rattled off, making both boys blush. Izuku felt his cheeks burn, more than anyone. It was all his fault, at the end of the day. There was no real reason he did it other than sheer adrenaline. He should've bailed as soon as a hole melted in the wall, but he supposed he just lost himself in the moment.
Something squirmed in him at the thought, reminding him how close he could've been to actually winning. Unwarranted thoughts flowed through his head, reminding him of how happy he'd been for that brief moment when he thought he'd won. His knuckles itched where they'd brushed Shoto's face.
As the tickling sensation in his knuckles grew, so did his awareness of his surroundings. His vision sharpened, his eyes zeroing in on Shoto and Setsuna. His focus bounced between the two, showing him how Shoto walked at an awkward angle and how Setsuna's hands kept fidgeting. Setsuna smelled like oranges and a bit of sweat, while the scent of charcoal wafted off Shoto. Their shoes made obnoxious scraping noises against the asphalt as they passed by a store.
Every conversation flowing out of the market slipped in one ear and out the other. Even when they got far enough where they couldn't even see the market anymore, Izuku could still make out the tail ends of conversations. His fingers twitched.
He could feel his heart in his chest when Setsuna looked at him, dim alarm growing on her face. She was pretty, but she looked tired, with thin bags under her eyes.
"Woah, woah, Izu! Your pupils are so dilated! You good?" She asked, peering close. Shoto stopped, tilting his head towards a nearby bench. Grabbing him by the elbow, the girl guided him over to the seat despite his protests. Shoto gave him a sidelong glance, confused as he sat with him.
"I didn't hit you in the face yesterday, did I? Pretty sure the only thing concussed about you is your kidney," Shoto said under his breath. Izuku, despite the headache forming in the back of his skull, chortled.
"Guys, seriously, I'm fine. This happened last night, too, and I was fine. It's just… jitters." Izuku said, looking away from the unimpressed look on Setsuna's face.
"Dawg, jitters doesn't do that to your eyes. If you're feeling bad, we could've done this another day. I didn't need to meet your friend that bad, y'know. No offense, man." Setsuna said.
"None taken."
"Just… just give me a second, and I'll be fine. But you shouldn't be so concerned. You came here after some hard training, right? You probably should be resting. Same to you, Shoto, Y-you're barely on your feet." Izuku said. Both of his friends looked at him, surprised. Setsuna raised her arm and gave her pits a quick sniff.
"What gave me away? Either way, being tired isn't an excuse to not hang out. Most times." Setsuna said.
"Well he's not wrong, but in my case, I was just bored. I took some painkillers before I left, anyways. It'll kick in soon." Shoto said. Izuku nodded, satisfied.
"Exactly. He's on painkillers and you stink like a barn. A bit of jitters hasn't ever hurt anybody. Let's just keep going, unless you're going to make us turn this ship around?" Izuku said. Setsuna gave him a shocked look, while Shoto snorted. He blinked, confused at their reaction until it dawned on him what he said. His blush returned with a vengeance.
"Fine," She said. "But if you start acting weird again, I'm taking you home." She said. Izuku smiled, getting to his feet. Pulling Shoto up, he kept his eyes away from Setsuna; both to avoid his embarrassment and to hide any oddity in his pupils.
"To the arcade?" He offered, struggling to find anything to look at other than the girl.
The trip to the arcade took longer than expected. They weren't half a mile away from the arcade, but since neither Izuku nor Setsuna wanted to slip between alleyways to get there, they chose to walk the long way around. It ended up being a decent hike, giving Shoto and Setsuna time to get to know one another.
Izuku took a backseat in the conversation, acting as more of a median and common ground between them. He listened, only adding in when one of them tilted a little too out of the other's comfort zone. Otherwise, he spent his time keeping his nerves under control. Whatever his "jitters" were, he didn't want them to upset Setsuna even more. The concern on her face had been genuine, and it made him feel sad.
He planned to start asking around for its cause, since he suspected today's wouldn't be the last. All he knew for certain about it was that his adrenaline kicked up every time he thought about yesterday's spar, and that concerned him. If he ever sparred Shoto again, which he probably would, he didn't want to start freaking out in front of Endeavor. It was different than his old panic attacks; he didn't shut down, but rather he seemed to ramp up, to the point of a headache.
By the time they'd gotten to the arcade, Izuku felt like he'd calmed back down. As had become customary between him and his friend, they first went to the motorcycles. Izuku hovered back as Shoto sat down, looking confused and overwhelmed at all the buttons on the handles. Izuku smiled, remembering how he'd wallopped Setsuna towards the end of their first session, and how sportsmanlike she had been about it.
He expected Shoto to be as uncoordinated and poor as him at first, but he supposed having another arm made it less impossible. Izuku pulled up a chair to watch, wrapping his legs around the back and leaning his chest into the backrest. He rested his chin on the back of his hand just as his friends popped a few coins into the game.
"So, the first question for the new hire: What's your favorite thing about Izuku?" Setsuna said, leaning to the left as she took a hard turn. She cranked the right handle just as her wheels left the top of a ramp, a boost trail exploding out of her digital bike. Red exhaust billowed out of her back as she launched herself into second place, overtaking the expert-level AI.
"What is this, some kind of interview?" Shoto said as he tapped a random button on the left handle, taking his eyes off the screen. His character bumped into a wall, but it was a glancing blow, only slowing him by a bit. A bike came close to overtaking him, but the green button burned fluorescent just as the back of his bike opened up and released a massive banana. The AI's name slipped down the leaderboard like a master pianist performing a glissando.
"Yup!" Setsuna said, weaving around a fallen tree.
"Ok. Well, he's interesting." He replied, taking a hard left. Izuku blinked at him; both for the vague compliment, and the fact that the main path went right, where Setsuna was going neck and neck with first place.
"Oooh, very minimalist. What's interesting? Don't worry, I won't tell him what you tell me." She said, giggling as she threw Izuku a wink. Izuku's eyes widened as she bumped into another bike and spun out just when she turned her head to wink at him.
"Hmmm. I suppose, fundamentally, the juxtaposition of his physical state to his mentality is intriguing. He's cool like that, I guess. Can I ask a question?" Shoto asked, leaning to the right as his path narrowed to barely a bike's length in width. The hallway, because Shoto's character was riding around inside a building, had a perpetual right curve.
"Sure," Setsuna said under her breath. The green-haired girl dialed in, intent on retrieving her lead after her crash. Reving her right handle, she boosted past fourth place, landing her right outside the top three. Looking over to Shoto's screen, his placement number was labeled "?"
"What's yours? Favorite thing about Izuku, I guess." He asked, now bouncing between leaning right and left as his hallway began to warp into the shape of a snake.
"Pass. Next question. Will you and Izu train with your dad again?" She asked, slapping her left handle's whole roster of buttons as she got close to third, a cacophony of abilities shooting out of her bike all at once. Missiles launched forward and backward, her character took on a golden sheen, and her wheels rotated sideways, turning her into a hoverbike. In less than three seconds, she jumped from fourth to first place.
Shoto didn't respond, opting instead to focus on the increasing difficulty of the course. The turns became sudden, jagged, and tight. All the while, Shoto kept his head low, eyes focused. For ten seconds, nobody said anything as the two racers seemed to become absorbed in the game, completely taken with the idea of winning.
It all came to a head when, after almost a minute of tight driving, Shoto's hallway opened up into a balcony. At the same time, Setsuna turned the last corner of the map, the finish line in sight. In a burst of action far more dramatic than appropriate, Shoto burst out of the balcony, landing on the main track right beside Setsuna. Together, they crossed the finish line, showing Izuku the "TIE" screen for the first time.
"Whaaat!? Setsuna cried as Shoto relaxed, his shoulders loosening. Izuku got up, patting Shoto on the back and giving Setsuna a consoling shoulder rub. Setsuna was almost crying into her own hands, but Izuku smiled; she was playing it up, as always.
"You're crazy good at this game, Shoto. She destroyed me the first time I ever played."
Izuku said. He shrugged, noncommittal.
"It wasn't that hard in the first place. And to answer the question, I think we will. I'd like it if we did, anyways. Training together, I mean." Shoto said, giving Izuku a small smile. Returning it with twice the radiance, Izuku laughed.
They kept racing until all their pocket money disappeared, but Setsuna didn't compete with Shoto again.
[x]
Setsuna's fingers trailed across the brick and mortar of the buildings as she walked, no destination in mind. After the arcade, the trio split up, each heading back home for rest. The racing had been… fun, she supposed, but more than that, it was exhausting. Don't get her wrong, of course, she hadn't hated it, but by the time they'd used all their funds, she was slouching and dragging her feet.
She had a good time, she kept telling herself. Shoto had been a blast, and way more interesting than his dry-texting suggested. Being with Izuku was bliss as normal. The racing had been competitive, close, and intense. There wasn't a cloud in the sky, and no homeless people lounging outside her home when she'd passed it like ten minutes ago. No school today, or tomorrow, and not even the day after that, given a holiday was coming up. Today had been perfect. She paused on the sidewalk.
So why was she so freaking miserable?
Looking out to all the other pedestrians gave her an odd comfort. An elderly man was shuffling along with a cane, muttering about grocery prices. A couple of college kids seemed to be patrolling the streets, probably looking for a booze store. A handful of little kids were tumbling down the street, punching and shoving each other as they walked along, laughing. They all seemed to know what they want. Groceries, beer, and some rough fun.
It gave her hope; to know others had found themselves. It also made her stomach turn; how did they ever figure out what they wanted? Those kids seemed so young, yet they had something deep down that she didn't. Where had she gone wrong, to be older than them yet more confused about her life?
She began her aimless march once more, dragging her feet behind her. Her thoughts, as they often did, swirled back around to Izuku. How cool he was; how motivated. How he wanted to be a hero so bad, and how hard he worked for it. How nice and down to earth he was, despite his flashy emitter. How messed up his circuit board was, and how he pushed through it.
Setsuna let her thoughts about the boy wander as she walked, imagining his face and his laugh, his work ethic and his goofy hair. She thought about his eight freckles, and she thought about his future hero name.
Her thoughts came to a halt as she stumbled, almost having tripped on a stray newspaper. Looking all around her to make sure no one noticed her slip-up, she picked up the paper. It was an old article, smelling of rotten food and stained the color of wheat. Dating it, regardless of its appearance, was easy. All Might's death was the front page story. Her stomach did an ugly little flip as she rolled it into a ball and chucked it into the nearest recycling bin.
She didn't notice, that on the second page of the article, the image of a little green-haired boy the greatest hero had sacrificed himself for.
Heroism, martyrdom. It all came back to that, didn't it? She'd made the decision to be a hero, yet deep down, she didn't know if she had it in her. She could be a hero, she was sure, but she didn't know if she could be a true hero, like Izuku would be. Shame filled her gut at the thought; of being colleagues with the boy who saved her and her mom, yet lesser.
If she'd been in All Might's shoes that day, could she have been as brave? She couldn't say, and that embarrassed her. It wasn't a stretch to imagine Izuku like that; he'd already done it, really.
She couldn't help the frustrated growl that escaped her as she began stomping through the streets. So what if it was a borderline tantrum? Heroes didn't throw tantrums, but that didn't really matter to her, since she could never be as heroic as Izuku anyways. The thought only made her angrier, and sadder.
Her stomping morphed into a jog, which twisted itself even further into a full-blown sprint. Pedestrians yelled as she shoved past, bumping into people she couldn't see through her tears. She couldn't stand it, thinking about Shoto and Izuku. Both seemed so dedicated, so confident that they'd be heroes. Shoto, of course, seemed less confident than Izuku, but he'd been training since his quirk manifested. It made the two boys the hardest workers she knew, bar her father. How could she ever compare to them, both trained by pro heroes? She'd told herself a long time ago that she'd never call out unfairness for Izuku's situation. By god, wouldn't that be hypocritical? But she couldn't help how she felt, how insignificant and weak Setsuna Tokage was.
This time, she did trip. She took a turn too hard, but this time, Izuku wasn't there to catch her. Her toes caught on the lip of a welcome mat, sending her face straight into the asphalt. Pain exploded across her head, focused on her mouth. Groaning as she rolled over to her side, she touched her lip; it came away bloody.
"Frick." She muttered, wincing as blood sputtered out of her mouth at the curse word. Looking around, it seemed no one saw her tumble except for an oddly shaped bird high in the sky. Climbing to her feet, she took stock of her surroundings. Blinking away the tears, she took a good long look at the welcome mat that had busted her lip. It was a fancy little thing, but nothing special. The building it belonged to, on the other hand, screamed personality.
It was a salon, that much was obvious. The inner windows revealed dozens of posters; each girl was beautiful, and no hairstyle was the same as the last. Pixie cuts, Wolf cuts, bangs, curtain bangs, straight, bald, frizzy, curly, it had everything. She wasn't much of a salon girl; her mom went plenty, but Setsuna hated having her hair touched by strangers. It was why her own locks were so gnarled and uneven; she liked to think it was a part of her charm.
Still, the place at least looked nice, so that was cool. Inviting. Her eyes trailed across the hair models, drawing themselves to the far right, where there was an example of a woman changing her colors. While it could've been Photoshop, she doubted it. The woman's hair was a natural pink, but a second photo presented it as a warm brown. Walking over to the picture, she saw it had a little caption.
"Pink is great, but I totally adore the more natural colors. Ever since I started dying it, I've felt like a brand new person!" She read aloud. She read it a second time, then a third, focusing on the second sentence. Something about it made her gut feel a little less heavy, her shoulders a little straighter. A brand new person, huh?
Checking her pockets, all she found were a handful of coins, not even a single bill. They'd spent all their money at the arcade today, her included. She didn't have enough for a burger, let alone a fancy place like this.
She fingered her phone, playing with the idea of calling her mom. She stood outside the building for a few minutes, loitering as long as she dared before she sighed. Pulling out her phone, she hovered over her mom's contact before closing the app and choosing another. Opening her GPS, she hovered her thumb over her exact position, creating a pin. Just in case.
[x]
Months passed, with Izuku falling into a familiar routine. Waking up, he'd spend some downtime chatting up Setsuna, doing homework, and playing with Smokescreen. Then, he'd either head out to Nighteye's warehouse or Shoto's house, and spend the rest of the morning drilling, sparring, and training. Then, depending on the day, he'd either get Nighteye to drive him or take the train to Shimisuka, where he'd work on his proto-thesis with Ms. Fujimaki. Periodically, he'd also visit Dr. Fujimaki and Ms. Utsushimi for prosthesis maintenance. Next, he'd help tutor Shoto with math and finish his own homework. Finally, he'd go home and theorize about quirks or hang out with Set.
It was hard work, but it was comfortable. Every day felt fresh, where he'd either learn something new about himself or his friends. He'd hung out a handful of times with both Shoto and Setsuna together, but more often than not, it'd be separate. He'd been spending more face-to-face time with Shoto, but Setsuna had been blowing up his phone more than usual the past few days. Her texts buzzed with life now, each call a cryptic message. She was hiding something and wouldn't tell him what it was.
It'd been almost a week since she started sending ominous texts, mostly involving scissors and disturbing selfies with her head blacked out. When he showed his mom, she'd laughed off his concern, telling him to be patient.
So, patient he had been, up until Setsuna's first day of middle school. Today he was outside of Setsuna's middle school, waiting for her to arrive so he could wish her luck. His game plan was to figure out what she'd been hiding, and maybe give her a hug. So, he found a comfortable bench near the gates and sat there, people-watching.
It was odd, he learned, to be of the middle-school age, out here with all the other middle schoolers, but not going in. He received several odd looks and had to shoo off more than one teacher who questioned his lacking uniform.
His knee bounced in place as he saw a group of girls walk past, still no sign of his friend. The girls were wearing traditional sailor-like uniforms, but the color motif was odd. Instead of a standard white and blue, as many middle schools used, it was brown and orange. Aldera, the school he would've gone to before the accident, had black and red, but it was an outlier. Izuku cringed, thinking about Setsuna's reaction to the clothes. Having natural green hair was fun and all until you started wearing orange.
He fiddled with his phone for a few minutes, still not catching his friend. Did he forget to tell her he was coming? Checking his phone killed that idea. His elbow—the real one, itched. Off in the distance, he heard the loud tidings of a bell, signaling school has started.
Izuku started to panic; was she ok? Did a car hit her, or did a villain attack send her to the hospital? A million and one thoughts rushed through his body as he got to his feet. He grit his teeth as he felt his heart rate skyrocket; he was getting too excited. Blood pounded in his ears just as One for All swirled in his gut, anxiety spilling out. Where was she?
He scanned the evacuated streets, looking southbound for any signs of life, but found none. Closing his eyes, he focused on himself; he was being dramatic. Setsuna was fine. Taking deep breaths to calm his racing heart, he fished his phone out to shoot her a text, still facing south.
"Behind." A masculine voice whispered into his ear. Shrieking, Izuku whipped around, looking for the man, but was instead met face to face with an odd sight. A blonde girl with a disheveled uniform and an odd bag was standing behind him, out of breath. His first instinct was to back away; this was a stranger, and staring at her unkempt state was rude. Not only that, but he was still on high alert, looking for the man who'd snuck up on him.
Izuku didn't, however, back away. He couldn't help the way his eyes pointed out to him things that should've been obvious at first: big round eyes, luscious lower lashes, pointed teeth, and a dino-themed bag should've tipped him off instantly. Taking a slow step forward, Izuku gave her a self-conscious wave.
"H-hey, Set?" He asked, bracing himself for the horrible embarrassment when she proved him wrong. She didn't.
"Hey, dude! Sorry for sneaking up on ya!" Set said, shifting her weight from one foot to the other, a finger twirling a lock of hair. Izuku's brain short-circuited. Was she wearing makeup?
"H-h-hey, y-y-your-r h-hair…" Izuku mumbled. She paused her nervous shifting, giving him a hopeful smile.
"Y-yeah! You like?" She asked. Izuku could've died.
"U-uh yeah! Kinda out of the blue, but it's n-nice!" He said, honest. He liked her natural hair, but she looked good as a blonde. Her eyebrows were still a little green, but he doubted anyone but he would notice. Setsuna fist pumped, all anxiety falling away.
"Hell yes—I mean, thanks. I wouldn't call it out of the blue, though. I've been hinting all week. Why do you think I sent you that bleach meme?" She asked, giggling. Izuku flushed, having forgotten about it. The scissors had been more memorable.
"O-oh, yeah. I was wondering why my mom wasn't concerned…"
"Anyways! I was thinking since today's just going to be a syllabus day, why don't I swing by after school? We could do some quirk stuff, or some pushups!" She said, flexing.
"U-uhm, s-sure? What's with the sudden change? You usually never want to train with me." Izuku asked. Setsuna practiced her quirk a lot, but not with him. On rare occasions, they'd face-call while doing their own routines, but that was the extent of their collaborations. Setsuna winced, but kept her smile strong.
"Shoto's been eating up all your time recently, I figured if you were training with him, I might as well try and get in on the fun. How about it?" She said. Her tone was a bit weird, he noted, but it was touching. She wanted to spend more time with him.
"Of course! You're welcome over any time; I'll even ask my mom if you want dinner. Anyways, you better get going." Izuku said, gesturing over to the gates. She gave him a quizzical look.
"Totes… but what do you mean? We've got plenty of time to chill."
Izuku blinked.
"Uhm, school started five minutes ago."
"What!?"