Archive of Our Own

Shouta Aizawa has never believed in the supernatural.

It’d be silly to do so, Shouta believes, even in a world like the one that he lives in. A world where Quirks exist, where children can be born radiating light, where teenagers can control the ground beneath them or fly high in the skies above, where superpowers are everywhere and the extraordinary far more ordinary than ever before. Surely, such a world would allow for ghosts, for spirits still a touch too tethered to the mortal realm, for entities beyond comprehension.

And yet, for some reason or another, Shouta had never considered them to exist. It never was a thought that popped into his head, never was an idea to consider. Sure, there may be ghostly Quirks, ones that allowed for similar qualities or imitations of such an idea, but so were Quirks that allowed people to turn into dragons or other ideas of legend. But ghosts themselves…no, Shouta can’t say that he’s ever believed them to be real.

Nor would he have ever expected to meet one.

But that’s exactly what happens.

It’s just a normal patrol night when the boy first appears. He doesn’t know when the boy popped up, which is unsettling to admit for a man who prides himself on his spatial awareness and constant alertness despite his aloof and exhausted façade (despite how very real the exhaustion is). All that Shouta knows is that between one rooftop and the next, between glances down poorly lit alleyways and sweeps over empty streets, he showed up.

The kid is…odd looking. Almost transparent, in a way, his clothes and skin unable to block the objects behind him when Shouta squints hard enough. An odd Quirk, Shouta brushes it off. Some kind of camouflage ability that the kid can’t turn off, perhaps. 

But it doesn’t explain the rest. Like how the boy isn’t touching the ground, but rather hovering above it, nor how he seems to teleport around, hopping from building to building each time that Shouta blinks. The boy moves like he’s walking, and yet no steps land, no noise is made, and yet he’s just there , in the corner of Shouta’s vision as he continues onwards.

And yet what’s more unsettling is not the way the boy follows him, but rather what he says when he finally decides to speak.

It’s just as Shouta is dealing with a villain, some new guy trying to cause trouble at night, using his Quirk- which seems to allow him to cover his body in dozens of spikes- to break into buildings. Shouta had jumped in immediately, hoping the kid would run off now that danger was around, but instead the boy had peered over the edge of the rooftop and continued to watch.

And began to narrate the fight.

“So cool!” The boy says, not in a hushed whisper but rather loud and unafraid, as if he has no sense of self-preservation whatsoever. “Eraserhead is so incredible! There’s no way he won’t think to trap the villain with his Capture Weapon before reactivating his Quirk! The spikes are sharp, but if he can wind them between the bases, the weapon shouldn’t get cut due to how rounded the widest parts are. A single blow to the man’s forehead would be perfect; there’s no spikes there to protect the villain!”

The kid’s right, Shouta quickly realizes, and the fight is quick work once he follows the kid’s advice. The villain is down in seconds, unconscious and tied up before Shouta even has to blink again. 

It’s just after Shouta sends a message to the police to come pick up their newest capture that Shouta looks up. “Thanks for the advice, kid, but maybe keep it down next time. You’re lucky this guy didn’t try to target you with how loud you were.”

The boy looks surprised, eyes wide and mouth agape, and Shouta huffs. What, has the kid never been told off for his recklessness before?

“You- you heard me?” The kid asks, and Shouta snorts.

“You were practically shouting down to me,” Shouta says. “Don’t you know how late it is? It’s dangerous to be out here at night, why are you following me?”

“Because you’re Eraserhead,” the kid says, which piques Shouta’s interest. Because that isn’t the first time that the boy has said his name, but it’s worrying that the kid knows him by name. He’s supposed to be an underground hero, after all, and that implies that children wouldn’t recognize someone like him.

So he tilts his head as he leans back against the alley wall, holding in a chuckle when the kid automatically tilts his head to mimic him. “Why do you know my name?” Shouta asks, and the boy shrugs.

“I always wanted to be a hero like you! You were my inspiration, Eraserhead!”

“Is that so?” Shouta asks. “Then why don’t you follow my advice. Go ahead and head on home. Growing heroes need to rest at night, not follow their idols around into danger. You could get hurt out here, Problem Child.”

“Oh, I don’t think that’s possible, Eraserhead,” the boy brushes off, with a smile that’s suddenly so broken that it hurts to look at. “I’ve been dead for months now!”

And that… certainly changes things.

—

Shouta Aizawa has a ghost in his house.

It sounds like the setup to a really shitty joke, but it’s true. 

It’s true, and Shouta is just… just watching this child, who sits yet hovers, not truly making contact with the couch beneath him but acting as if nothing is amiss. 

“Alright,” Shouta says. “What’s your name, kid?”

“Izuku,” the kid- no, Izuku, says. And that’s it. Just Izuku, no last name given.

“What’s the last name, kid?” Shouta asks, and Izuku shrugs, looking down.

“It doesn’t matter,” Izuku says after a moment of silence. “My mom is dead. I’m not sure who killed her, but she’s dead.” He pauses again, and then adds, “I spent the first two months looking for her. All I found was her tombstone.”

Izuku never mentions a father. Shouta sees the look on his face, bitter and broken. He knows better than to ask.

“So, what do you do?” Shouta asks, and Izuku tilts his head. 

“What do you mean?” Izuku asks, and Shouta sighs.

“When you’re not following underground heroes on their patrols, what do you do? Where do you go, who do you talk to?”

“Oh! Not much, really,” Izuku admits. “Sometimes I go to school, but it’s kind of awkward when I have questions and no one answers them. I like to wander, especially since I don’t really need sleep or anything. I’ve been through a lot of Japan by now- I was considering leaving the country, but I can’t exactly ask for directions if I get lost and even if I could, what are the odds someone I could talk to would speak Japanese outside of Japan? My luck isn’t that good, and my English isn’t good enough to make up for it. And-”

“Hold on,” Shouta interrupts. “You keep saying that no one will answer you.”

“Well, yeah,” Izuku says, as if it’s common sense. “To be honest, I’m surprised that you can.”

“Why?” Shouta asks, and Izuku looks at him oddly.

“Because you’re the only one who’s been able to even see me, let alone hear what I say.”

“The only one?” Shouta asks, and Izuku nods. 

“Yeah.” His smile softens, sadder and somber, as he admits, “I won’t lie…it’s been kind of lonely. It’s been a couple of months since I became like this. But you can see me! And if you can…well, maybe someone else will too?”

Maybe. Maybe someone will see the young ghost boy before him, and will be able to interact with the kid as easily as Shouta can. 

But Shouta sees the doubt in the kid’s eyes, the fear and apprehension that lay within his gaze, and he sighs.

“Well, you can always start around here,” Shouta says. “But if you don’t want to go exploring right away, you’re welcome to stick by me.”

“I am?” Izuku asks excitedly, and then, more subdued, “It won’t be a bother?”

“Not at all,” Shouta says, doing his best to seem as unaffected as possible, as if Izuku’s decision won’t bother him either way. 

And it seems to help, the boy agreeing to stay, Shouta too unwilling to force someone so young back out into a life of isolation.

(Shouta swears he’ll fight if someone calls him out for his sudden stray acquisition.)

Shouta will just have to learn to accept this ghost’s company. It doesn’t seem that this Izuku kid is too keen on leaving, anyways.

What a Problem Child.

—

Five years is a relatively long amount of time, Shouta would suppose, except for the way that it passes in the blink of an eye. But time is a construct and a concept that matters little, Shouta supposes, when he lives in a world with Quirks and ghosts and who even knows what else.

It’s not been a bad five years, though. No, Shouta has enjoyed himself. Work is exhausting but rewarding, villains locked away, lives saved, students taught, everyday a routine full of excitement and fear quite like nothing else. He enjoys it, living his life, tough but irreplaceable, content in making the world better even if just by a bit, knowing that he’s protecting those that he can reach and doing his best to continue helping others.

And he enjoys watching the kid grow.

Because Izuku does that , somehow. He’s been growing up, getting older despite how he should be absolutely unable to. He’s dead, after all, despite how much he livens up a room whenever he ‘walks’ in. But logic means little in a world of Quirks and ghosts, Shouta supposes, and so it makes no sense to argue against Izuku’s ability to grow up. 

So Shouta just watches as the days turn to weeks, weeks to months, months to years, time passing by, the only sign of its existence clear as day in the way that Izuku grows taller, face losing some of its baby fat, eyes becoming darker and yet brighter with realizations and experience.

And mischief. Way, way too much mischief… not that Shouta is actually complaining. 

Not when most of his mischief comes into play when he’s helping Shouta make Nedzu regret hiring him. 

Because Nedzu lets them do it, the chaos loving rat that he is. It helps, Shouta thinks, that Shouta is the first student to be mentored by Nedzu, back when the creature was just a teacher and not yet the principal of Yuuei. And it helps, Shouta knows that Nedzu is the only other being that Shouta has met who is able to see Izuku.

That’s an inaccurate description, though. That would imply that Nedzu can see Izuku’s smiling face, can see his curly hair and the sparks in his eyes. But only Shouta can do that, only Shouta can see Izuku in such a way. 

But Nedzu is able to sense the boy, and can find him without having to wait for Izuku to alert him. He can always pinpoint where the boy is in a room, or determine whether the boy is in the room at all in the first place. It’s something to do with his more animalistic senses, Nedzu had explained, but, with a twitch of his nose and furrowing of his eyes, could also be due to his specific past as well.

It’s not as if Shouta could ask any other Quirked animals if they could sense ghosts. Nedzu had made it rather clear that the only ones he knew were on the other side of the topic at hand.

Nedzu doesn’t like to discuss it. Shouta knows better than to push, and so he lets the topic rest. All that matters, he supposes, is that Nedzu likes his son and that his son likes Nedzu.

His son likes a lot. He likes studying Quirks, likes dissecting them, marking strengths and weaknesses, how to boost the former and mitigate the latter. He likes following Shouta around during patrol at night, giving him tips on how to deal with enemies, pointing out details and ideas that Shouta would never consider. He likes rambling about new heroes, likes catching up with Shouta’s colleagues at Yuuei through stilted, half-verbal half-written conversations.

Because Izuku has learned how to interact with the world around him, somehow. Perhaps because he likes testing his own limits, finding loopholes and tricks that most would never consider trying. That’s how he realized that he can affect the world, pushing papers and marking things with pencils and chalk. He can move minor things with ease, and larger things with more focus, and it’s enough for Izuku, Shouta supposes, because he’s seen how elated the boy gets whenever he can leave messages for his colleagues, when he can flip open the notebooks he begged Shouta to buy just to scribble in a new note on a hero or a doodle for a support gear design he’d thought up in the middle of patrol.

Izuku likes a lot of things, and Shouta likes seeing his son happy. There’s not much he can do for his kid, and there’s not much his kid can do, but overall, it feels like enough. 

It’s a good dynamic, one that Shouta enjoys.

So, of course, it promptly goes to shit.

—

Izuku always gets excited on the first day of the school year. Whether it’s the academic, nerdy side of his son that makes him so jittery, or the amusement he gets watching Shouta scare the piss out of a bunch of first years, Shouta will never truly know, but he’s glad his kid can enjoy spectating on the side.

But despite how excitable Izuku has been for the previous years, nothing can compare to today. To Shouta’s confusion- and slight worry- the boy seems to be almost vibrating in place, smile wide and hands jittery, right hand twitching in a way that it always does when the boy wants to write something down.

“Are you okay, kid?” Shouta asks, and Izuku nods, almost identical to a bobblehead figure with how fast his head moves. 

“Yeah! I’m just excited for today, that’s all!”

“I can tell,” Shouta says as he grabs his coffee, drinking the entire mug in one go before moving to refill from the still scorching pot. “But you’re going to fly through a wall at this rate. What’s so special this year, Izuku?”

Izuku beams. “I’d be a first year too, this year!” He explains, and then, suddenly still, he says, “I was Quirkless, though…do you think I would have gotten in, dad?”

“Undoubtedly,” Shouta agrees. “You’re too much of a Problem Child to accept any other place in 1-A.”

Izuku’s smile widens. It’s a good day.

And things go smoothly from there. It’s simple, their trip to Yuuei, familiar and safe. Izuku rambles on about Quirks that he’d seen during the exam, making guesses on who will show the most potential today during the Quirk Apprehension Test, and nodding along when Shouta offers minor suggestions or corrections to his analyses. It’s relaxing, and exactly what Shouta needs as they reach the school.

But then they’re there, walking in, and the conversation comes to a close as Shouta opens the door to the teacher’s lounge.

Shouta takes a seat at his desk, pulling together papers and making sure that he has everything ready for the day as needed. Izuku, as he usually does when the two are in the teacher’s lounge, beelines straight for the loudest blond Shouta has ever met.

“Listener!” Hizashi cheers, the moment Izuku’s hand comes to rest on his shoulder. “Come here, let me show you my newest lesson plan! Think the kids will like these tongue twisters?”

“Who is he talking to?” Yagi asks, and Shouta sighs.

“My son, Izuku,” Shouta says, and Yagi’s frown deepens.

“An… invisibility Quirk?” Yagi asks, looking around with confusion. “I do not understand how that branches off from Erasure, but hello, young Aizawa! It is nice to meet you.”

Izuku looks, somehow, like he’s ready to pass out from Yagi’s greeting alone. Shouta sighs, then shakes his head.

“He’s dead,” Shouta says, and Yagi coughs, then pulls out a handkerchief to clean up the blood that escaped him. “Izuku is a ghost. We don’t share a last name, by the way. Hard to get the paperwork done when only I can see him, you know?”

“I- what?” Yagi asks. “Then why is he…following you?”

“Shouta has a bad habit of picking up strays from the street,” Hizashi calls out, and only Shouta can see the flustered look that Izuku gives at the description. “Shouta found Izuku one night on patrol a few years ago, and next thing you know he’s got a son!”

“I…see,” Yagi says after a moment of silence. “May I ask why only you are able to see young Izuku, then?”

“No clue,” Shouta admits easily. “I tried asking around, but so far no one else has seen him or had any idea on what’s causing it. Could be something related to my Quirk, could just be a coincidence. Doesn’t stop the Problem Child from causing problems.”

“He helps Shouta scare his students,” Hizashi explains, and Yagi hums.

“I see,” Yagi repeats. “Well, it was…nice to meet you?”

“He’s nowhere near you,” Shouta cuts in, and Izuku scowls. “What? You want to greet him, don’t do it from across the room.”

Like the menace he is, Izuku makes a show of marching towards Yagi, as if he doesn’t have the ability to just float around, and sticks his right hand directly in front of Yagi. 

“Shake his hand,” Shouta informs Yagi, and Yagi nods, sticks his hand straight out-

-right through Izuku’s torso.

“I’m not that short !” Izuku complains. Yagi, meanwhile, freezes, pulling his now shaking hand back.

“Ooh, felt the cold touch of death, did you?” Hizashi teases. “Don’t worry, that just shows that you actually found the kid!”

“It’s a pleasure,” Yagi says, smiling warmly at Izuku, who sighs and nods back.

“This is why you never meet your idols,” Izuku grumbles. “They stick your hand in your guts and call it a handshake.”

That’s definitely not an accurate representation of the real issue behind meeting one’s idols, but Shouta shrugs and stands up. It’s time to go meet his new class of idiots, after all. 

“Come on, Problem Child,” Shouta calls, and Izuku rushes out after him.

Great. Time to get the day started.

—

Izuku loves the first day of school. He’s always enjoyed school- well, not always, because sometimes the teachers are awful and the students even worse, but the academics are fun and Izuku has always liked having the chance to learn even more than he already has. And while watching his dad year after year does mean getting taught the same curriculum again and again, it does present Izuku with the chance to learn more about the people that are learning, rather than the subjects being learned.

And every class 1-A has always been interesting to watch. Whether it’s for their interesting Quirks, variety of personalities, or just watching his dad have fun messing with students in a way that actually helps them stay safe, rather than just to harm them, there is always something to look forward to. 

Luckily, this year seems to be no different! Already, Izuku has found multiple people of interest- Momo Yaoyorozu with her high intelligence and incredible Creation Quirk, Tenya Iida and his obsession with rules and regulations, Ochako Uraraka and Mina Ashido, both bubbly and kind, Shouto Todoroki’s stoicness that just screams of unspoken secrets- yes, Izuku just knows that this year will be interesting.

And perhaps that is why the first day seems to rush by, hours passing by in what feels like minutes. The Quirk Apprehension Test begins, and then it ends, and twenty students remain. That’s a first, from what Izuku has seen.

He can’t wait to see what else this class can do.

(Maybe, if he focuses more on this childish glee, he can ignore the red eyes that pierce right through his heart.

Maybe.)

—

“Sensei…I think you should look at the board,” Asui says, voice calm but eyes wide with apprehension. 

“It wasn’t me!” He hears Hagakure proclaim as he turns. “I didn’t do it!”

‘It’, Shouta quickly realizes, is the message scrawled out on the board. Scribbled in chalk, and marked at the end with a smiley face, Shouta can only shake his head and force a smile off of his face as he reads, ‘Congratulations on getting through the first day! It only gets worse from here!’

Izuku smiles openly, like the little shit that he is, as he drops the chalk from his hand onto the ledge. The smile only grows when some of Shouta’s students jump at the sudden motion.

“Oh, right,” Shouta drawls, as if the idea of ghosts isn’t alarming whatsoever- as if he hadn’t disregarded their existence as nonsensical for the first few decades of his own life-, “you have an honorary twenty-first classmate. Meet my dead ghost son, Izuku.”

Nineteen students react with confusion, shock, or excitement of some sorts.

One student, Katsuki Bakugou, goes pale .

“ Deku? ”

What.

—

Katsuki Bakugou was ten years old when Izuku Midoriya disappeared from his life.

Except that’s the wrong word. ‘Disappearing’ would imply that Katsuki had no clue what had happened, would imply that no one had seen where Izuku went, or who took him, or anything.

And that’s partially true, because Katsuki never knew where Izuku ended up, nor the face of his kidnapper.

But he remembers what happened.

(It haunts too many of his nightmares to ever forget.)

He’d been following Izuku down the street, not chasing but rather following, stalking behind like a predator would its prey, the smaller shaking, already aware that it had reached a dead end and had no way of escaping, even as the streets were wide open and empty. He’d taunted the boy, what words he had said he no longer knows, but he still remembers the way Izuku had flinched, shoulders curled in, head ducked low.

Teardrops on the sidewalk, clear as day despite how Izuku had been trying so hard to keep them hidden.

One of the worst parts, Katsuki thinks, is how there was no one else around. The streets were surprisingly silent, except maybe it shouldn’t have been surprising, considering that Katsuki was following Izuku down the shady back alley routes that the boy had started taking.

Routes the boy took to try avoiding Katsuki and his cruelty.

Because Katsuki was cruel, wasn’t he? Wasn’t he cruel to taunt Izuku, to jeer at him, to knock him down over and over again because of something his childhood friend could not control. Mocking someone as lesser than because of his Quirklessness, because of his genetics…wasn’t it funny how Katsuki had the Quirk of a hero, yet only Izuku had the heart of one between the two of them?

Maybe it’d be funny in a different world. In a world where Katsuki and Izuku grew up together, side by side, not enemies or a bully and his victim, but a duo like they were meant to be. An explosive boy with a Quirk to match, and a kind boy to keep his temper in check. The Wonder Duo that they dreamed up as children.

But that would require that they both got to grow up from being children, wouldn’t it?

Because they were children. They were ten years old and Katsuki was placed on a pedestal, deemed as superior by all simply because of his Quirk. They were ten and Katsuki was cheered on as a hero, encouraged to view those around him as stepping stones, as pebbles beneath him, because he was the next number one, wasn’t he? He was meant to climb from the bottom to the very top, to achieve greatness on his own. He was ten and yet the weight of the world was his to lift, a burden subconsciously taken, one that should have been shared but was selfishly hoarded for the sake of pride, for the sake of vanity.

He was ten. Why was Katsuki allowed to be the way he was at ten? 

Why did no one stop him?

Katsuki wasn’t the one to rip the portal open underneath Izuku Midoriya’s feet. Katsuki wasn’t the one who pulled Izuku away, who ripped him away even as a scream ripped out of the boy’s throat. Katsuki wasn’t the one to make Izuku disappear forever, wasn’t the one who stole him away and killed him.

Katsuki isn’t the one who turned Izuku Midoriya into a ghost, one that follows Katsuki’s homeroom teacher around.

But, at the same time…wasn’t he?

Wasn’t he the one who isolated Izuku, who bullied him until he was a shell of himself, shaking and quaking and avoiding everyone in fear of repercussions? Wasn’t he the one who taunted him at every chance, haunting him in a way that feels almost ironic now, ruining his days and leaving him lonely and yet never able to take solace in being alone? Wasn’t he the one to call him that damned name, Deku, the one to make him feel so small, so useless? Wasn’t he the one that made Izuku start taking back alley paths, wasn’t he the one who made Izuku the perfect target for a kidnapping?

Wasn’t he the one who just watched, shell shocked and stone still, as Izuku was portaled away? 

Wasn’t he the one who was supposed to be a hero, and yet couldn’t even move an inch when villains stole his childhood friend away?

He was. And he was the one who couldn’t even save the boy who had just wanted to save everyone around him, no matter the consequences.

They were children. They were only ten years old. They were just kids , who deserved a chance to grow up in a world that was better.

And yet Izuku was never given that chance to grow up.

And it’s all Katsuki’s fault.

—

For five years, Shouta has known Izuku. For five years, he has known very little of the boy’s past. 

Sure, Izuku had told him a lot. He had told Shouta of his Quirklessness, of his dreams to be a hero, of Quirk analysis and hero sightings. He said his mom was dead, and said Shouta was the only one who had seen him, as far as he could tell.

But that was it. No friends to talk about, no backstory, not even a last name. Shouta had never pried- at first because Izuku was so timid, and later because Izuku was home with Shouta, so why would it matter? 

Maybe Shouta should have pried. Should have asked details, should have done more. Because only now does Shouta know more of the story.

Because one of his new students was traumatized by Izuku’s kidnapping. And as Shouta hears everything that Katsuki admits, heartfelt regret and troubled pasts intertwined, he can’t help but sink further into his seat, his normally easy to maintain poker face a challenge to even pretend to have.

No, Shouta knows that the pain in his eyes is clear, but so is the guilt in Bakugou’s expression, the words that spill from the blond’s mouth clearly formed from thoughts that eat him from the inside out. 

“It’s not your fault,” is the first thing that Shouta says, because he may be reeling from the information given to him but for Bakugou it is a toxin that has been festering inside of him for five long, broken years. “Your school failed you. Both of you.”

“The school failed De- Izuku. I failed Izuku,” Bakugou retorts. “I’m not the one who got bullied every damn day over my lack of fucking Quirk.”

“No, but you are the one who was enabled and encouraged by the adults around you to continue hurting Izuku,” Shouta says. “And you make it clear that you’re not that boy anymore.”

“How do you know that?” Bakugou asks. “How the fuck could you possibly know that I’m not that boy anymore?” 

“Because you sat down and told me everything,” Shouta says. “And if you were the same boy as you were back then, you’d have no reason to be crying right now.”

“I’m not crying!” Bakugou denies, and yet he wipes away the tears that streak down his face without a second thought. “I- why aren’t you pissed at me? Didn’t you just say you see Izuku as your fucking son ? You’ve been haunted by the kid I bullied for five years! How are you not upset?”

“I’m upset,” Shouta corrects. “But I see a boy who is upset for his failures in the past, and it takes more work for a person to correct themselves and make up for their failures than it does for them to get a punishment and call it a day.”

“So you’re not doing anything about it?” Bakugou asks, and Shouta shakes his head.

“No, I’ll be doing something about it. I’m going to launch an investigation into your school. Aldera, was it?”

“Yes,” Bakugou agrees. “And…and what about me?”

“Therapy,” Shouta declares, and when Bakugou’s face whitens, he says, “Yeah. A shit ton of therapy.”

Because holding on to all of that by himself for five years…yeah, Shouta can tell that the boy needs therapy. Both for his grief, and to make sure that the kid is able to process the self-loathing that Shouta can see in the blond, especially when it comes to the kid’s treatment towards his son.

Which brings up another issue.

The fact that Izuku stared at Shouta and Bakugou during the entire conversation, and yet didn’t say a word.

—

Shouta tries to bring up everything that Bakugou told him, later that night.

"Problem Child… Izuku, we need to talk."

Izuku won't look him in the eyes, Shouta immediately notices. He acts like he is, but the boy's gaze is set just a touch too high, focused more on his forehead.

A way to avoid eye contact while trying to pretend otherwise..

"What is there to talk about?" Izuku asks, and Shouta frowns.

"You never told me any of that," Shouta says. "I'm a hero, kid. I- I had hoped that your death wasn't intentional ."

"How could it not be?" Izuku asks, and Shouta does his best to stay still, to hide the hurt because it's not his death that they're discussing but Izuku's, and Shouta knows he needs to be softer about this conversation.

But it's been five years. Five years that Shouta has grown attached, has come to love this child as his own, and the more he dwells on this the more he realizes that he should have done more .

"You could have had an incurable illness," Shouta reasons. "Or got stuck in an accident. But kidnapping . Izuku, I know you don't remember everything, but surely you remembered that you were taken …right?"

"Of course I do! I'm not stupid, dad!" He's getting fidgety, fingers locked and twisting together, eyes wide and restless, frown growing more and more apparent. He's stressed; Shouta should placate him, move on from the conversation and table it for later.

But he can't.

"I don't think you're stupid!" Shouta responds. "But I just wish you would trust me! I could have helped- I still can!"

"But you can't !" Izuku shouts, hands unlocking from one another as his arms sweep out. His eyes are frantic yet angry as he loudly asks, "How in the world could you help? I died, Eraserhead! I died five years ago and it doesn't matter how much either of us wish otherwise, I'm dead and I'll never come back to life!"

The room goes deadly silent. The anger drips from Izuku’s face, morphing into fear.

"I'm sorry," he whispers. "I- I should go."

And just like that, for the first time in five years… Izuku Midoriya disappears from sight.

"Izuku?" Shouta whispers out, but there's no response. "Izuku, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have pushed. I just- you're my son. You're my child . I feel like I've failed as a father by never even trying to find more information until today. But if you want me to, I'll leave it alone. Just…just come back, please?"

There's no response, and no sign of Izuku. Not then, not when Shouta sits down for dinner, not when he goes to sleep, and not when he wakes up in the morning.

Shouta hopes that Izuku will come back soon.

It’s so quiet.

—

Izuku comes back, but it’s not how or why Shouta expected his son to return. 

Because Izuku only returns when everyone is in the U.S.J., when inky black portals open up in the middle of the building, and the boy’s expression is haunted like his worst nightmares have come to life.

Distantly, almost as if viewing from another perspective, Shouta notices how Bakugou looks as if he’s about to faint.

And then he’s snapped back into reality when Izuku screams .

“Run!” Izuku shouts. “You need to go , get out of here !” 

Shouta whips around, commands his students to move. Thirteen leads the way, 

They don’t make it in time, the entrance blocked by a man made of mist.

“The golden egg of heroics, class 1-A of Yuuei, allow me the pleasure of introducing myself to you,” the man says. “I am Kurogiri, and we are the League of Villains, here to announce our presence and fulfill our mission of killing All Might. However…it appears that the man is not here. Perhaps a demonstration is needed to coax him out from wherever he has gone off to.”

And much to Shouta’s fear, more portals begin to open, catching some of his students, spiriting them away.

And Bakugou shoots forward, explosions at the ready, smoke filling the air as he lands a hit point blank on the villain.

“You!” Bakugou snarls. “You did this! You killed Deku! I’ll kill you, you bastard!”

A chuckle escapes through the smoke, and when it clears, Kurogiri is standing tall, at ease despite the circumstances. “I apologize for any confusion, but I find myself rather unaware of who this ‘Deku’ is. You might be confused, but I assure you that I will not be the one killed today.”

The villain lifts his hands, and more portals begin to form, but Bakugou pays them no mind as he shouts, “Izuku Midoriya, you monster! You kidnapped him through a portal five years ago and killed him!”

The portals stop growing, and to Shouta’s horror, the villain’s eyes light up with recognition.

“Was he a green-haired boy, perchance?” Kurogiri asks, and when Bakugou flinches, Kurogiri chuckles again. “Oh dear…yes, it was me, then, that took your friend. But I am not the one who killed him. My master made good use of the boy.”

Bakugou screams, a wordless sound filled with nothing but rage, and Shouta doesn’t have the chance to activate his Quirk before the boy is gone, already having leaped through a portal.

Shouta wants to lunge forward, wants to take this villain and slam him into the ground, make him regret whatever it is that he did to Shouta’s son , make him hurt so that he can pay for all that he’s done-

But then he hears the commotion behind him. Dozens of villains have come through the portals, all eager to hurt, to harm his students.

His students who are still alive. People who Shouta can protect.

“I died five years ago.”

People who Shouta can help .

“Thirteen,” he commands, “protect the students.”

“I’m dead and I’ll never come back to life.”

And so it’s with a grimace and a snarl that Shouta leaps into the thick of it all, Quirk active and Capture Weapon unfurling from around his neck, three villains grabbed in an instant and thrown across the room, slammed into those nearby. 

He can only hope that his students who are able to remain unharmed, and that those who were portaled away are not too far.

—

And as Shouta Aizawa fights his way through the villains in the central plaza of the U.S.J., Pro Hero Thirteen is wounded, their own Quirk used against them by Kurogiri. 

And as Thirteen falls to the ground, Mashirao Ojirou finds himself fighting through the Conflagration Zone on his own. 

And as Ojirou fights alone, Momo Yaoyorozu, Kyouka Jirou, and Denki Kaminari fight in the Mountain Zone against a hoard of villains. 

And Shouto Todoroki does his best to get answers in the Landslide Zone while Tsuyu Asui, Minoru Mineta, and Hitoshi Shinsou do their best to escape death in the Flood Zone.

And six students remain by the front entrance, one, a certain Tenya Iida, escaping through the front doors, racing to reach the school as quickly as possible.

And twenty heroes-in-training do their best to stay alive as their homeroom teacher wears himself thin in the center of it all, fighting off as many people as possible, Quirk and body both surely being overused but the man too desperate to keep them alive to care about things as simple as limits. Because at the moment the future is not the focus, but rather the present.

Because a future is not certain when one can not be sure that they will make it to the end of the day.

And wouldn’t class 1-A know it, when they know that a certain Izuku Midoriya hovers, no one sure where the ghost is except for his father figure, but all well aware that Izuku is there and watching.

All now aware that the man behind Izuku’s death is in the very same building as them.

So twenty students do their best to stay alive as their homeroom teacher gives it his all, fighting to survive, because there cannot be any more ghosts haunting Yuuei.

And as Shouta Aizawa fights in the central plaza, a man covered in dismembered hands stands, a lone audience member chuckling as he watches the chaos surrounding him. A laugh that only stops when Kurogiri portals himself over to the man.

“One of the students escaped,” Kurogiri says. 

“What?” The man shouts. “What do you mean , one escaped?”

“A boy with engines,” Kurogiri says. “I apologize, Tomura Shigaraki, but I was unable to prevent his leave.”

“If you weren’t our main form of escape, I’d dust you here and now,” Shigaraki hisses. “You’re lucky that he’s not built for teleporting.”

A smaller figure, much like ‘Kurogiri’ stands on Shigaraki’s other side. The figure is covered in mist, but the color is tinted more green than purple, and the eyelights are a toxic green where Kurogiri has yellow. The figure barely moves, and doesn’t even seem to breathe, and yet Shouta can tell that those toxic eyes are pinned right on him.

“What should we do now?” Kurogiri prompts, and Shigaraki huffs. 

“Well, we may as well use our ultimate weapon. Noumu! ” Shigaraki shouts, and to the horror of those of 1-A who have made it to the outskirts of the plaza or were never portaled away, a hulking beast stands up, one with bloodshot eyes, sharpened beak, and an exposed brain. “Deal with Eraserhead…and then go for the children.”

And suddenly, everything changes, the Noumu surging forward, slamming into Aizawa, lifting the man despite his active Quirk, throwing him across the plaza without hesitation. And then the Noumu is racing forward, across the plaza in the blink of an eye, perhaps not even, and slamming Aizawa into the ground before the man can even try to move. 

The smaller figure twitches forward, and a mist begins to emanate from him. The Noumu throws Aizawa again, not hesitating to race to the underground hero as he crashes into the fountain.

But just as the Noumu reaches for him once more, the doors slam open.

“All Might,” Shigaraki hisses. “Noumu! Your true target is here!”

And the Noumu turns, jumping toward All Might just as the blond leaps into action, the two meeting in the middle and the clash beginning instantly. 

And the fight continues, two superpowers colliding, a brawl for the ages happening just yards away from the terrified students, and no one pays much attention as some of the students run to Aizawa, reaching him and pulling him up, helping the barely conscious man to limp away to a safer area.

The fight continues, and All Might grins but it is sharp and full of intent, rage and protectiveness for both his colleague and his students as he throws himself into defeating the Noumu. 

A fight no longer easy, not that anyone in the room would know, but harder with every hit because All Might is injured and tired and well on his way to retirement, One for All having been passed on, the hours within him dwindling by minutes with every additional blow that he throws at the Noumu- but All Might will not be anything but Plus Ultra when it comes to his students’ safety.

And so the fight rages on, the tides turning quickly in the hero’s favor.

“This is bullshit!” Shigaraki rages. “He’s supposed to be weaker . He shouldn’t be able to oppose my Noumu for so long! I put too much time into its customization for it to be treated like a level one encounter! Kurogiri-!”

“Backup will be here soon,” Kurogiri says, and the smaller figure nods along. The smaller one holds up two fingers, and Shigaraki winces.

“So soon? You’re kidding, Morigiri,” Shigaraki sighs. “Whatever. It’s not our fault these fools have cheats on. And if the Noumu isn’t a high enough level… we may as well go back to gain more experience.”

And perhaps that phrasing should be cause for alarm, and yet all attention is drawn to the center of the U.S.J. as All Might punches the Noumu right through the ceiling, leaving nothing but a crater where it once stood.

—

“We’re done here,” Shigaraki says, as All Might stands firm in the spot where he sent the Noumu soaring into the sky. “Kurogiri, portal us home!”

One portal opens up, and Shouta struggles to keep his eyes open, tries to force his Quirk to activate, but his eyes burn and he can’t keep them open for more than a second before blinking again. But those few seconds are enough to see the way that Shigaraki saunters straight through, away from All Might’s smoke-covered form. Kurogiri follows after, prim and proper as he walks away from the chaos they’ve left in their wake.

The smaller figure- Morigiri- ambles in through the portal, and something feels wrong when the portal snaps shut behind them, just as the rest of the Pro Heroes arrive, having followed Iida’s lead.

From the look on Izuku’s and Bakugou’s faces, Shouta doubts he’s the only one who feels that way.

—

“I never left,” Izuku says, tears streaking down his face as he sits beside Shouta, so close that Shouta can feel the coldness of death beside him. “I was here the whole time. I just hid. I’m sorry.”

“You’re okay,” Shouta promises. “We’re okay.”

His son is still here, after all. 

Everything will be okay.

—

The attack on the U.S.J. didn’t prevent, or even delay, the Sports Festival. Shouto Todoroki isn’t sure if he should feel a certain way about this decision, but all that he knows is that the fight is today and Shouto has to do his best.

So how has Shouto found himself sitting in his classroom, staring at the chalkboard before him, shaking in silence as he stays firmly planted in his seat?

He doesn’t know, nor does he know how long he’s been sitting here, but he knows he left when the second round had just ended, and the hands on the clock have long since changed from their original position, and yet Shouto can’t bring himself to move an inch.

A piece of chalk rises from the chalkboard, and perhaps if Shouto wasn’t well aware of the ghost that follows his homeroom teacher, he’d be startled by this. But instead Shouto can only stare at the chalk.

“I thought you only came here to follow Aizawa-sensei,” Shouto murmurs, and the chalk gets pressed to the board, words quickly written.

‘Are you okay?’ A pause, ‘The one-on-one fights begin soon.’

“I know,” Shouto says, swallowing down the stress that rises within him. “I’ll go in…in a moment.”

‘You don’t have to,’ the ghost writes. ‘If you’re not feeling well, you can pull out.’

Shouto scoffs. As if it’s that simple.

“I have to do this,” Shouto says. “I have too much to prove to just back out . I have to show him that I’m better than his Quirk.”

‘Him?’ A pause, and then, ‘Who do you mean?’

“My father,” Shouto says. He doesn’t know why he says it- maybe it’s the stress, the anger, the resentment he’s built up towards Endeavor. Maybe it’s the way that he can’t actually see the person he’s talking to, so it feels less like he’s confessing his secrets to someone and more like he’s ranting to himself. Maybe it’s the way that he’s so desperate to be understood, and if anyone can truly get him, it’d be someone already dead- but he continues despite how he’s always been close-lipped before today. “Endeavor expects me to be his greatest creation, to use his fire to become the next number one hero and surpass All Might, but I refuse to give him the satisfaction. So I’ll win this entire Sports Festival with my mother’s ice or not at all.”

‘Greatest…creation?’ He writes, and Shouto takes a breath.

And then he asks, “Do you know what Quirk marriages are?”

The chalk stills, and Shouto finds the words tumbling out, fast and frantic like he can’t control it, like they’ll never be said again if Shouto can’t manage to say them all in one breath. He explains it all, his father’s way of getting his mother, Touya, Natsuo, Fuyumi, himself. He explains the one-sided rivalry between All Might and Endeavor, the obsession passed down through blood, the need for a perfect successor. He explains his mother’s mental breakdown, the isolation Shouto always faced, the resentment he’s felt for years. He explains how it all hurts, how his scar burns on bad days, how his heart has felt frozen for years, how he can’t seem to win but he won’t win at all if he gives in to Endeavor.

And then the words are all out, spat out and soaked in years of regret, long past expiration and yet all too fresh a wound to handle for long.

“I’m sorry,” Shouto finds himself apologizing. “I- you probably didn’t need to hear all that.”

‘It’s okay. I’m sorry that you faced all of that, but don’t apologize for reaching out to someone when you need help.’

“Thank you,” Shouto says, automatic in the response. “I’m not used to…telling people things.”

‘Me, too. I didn’t have any friends to tell stuff to before…everything.’

“You didn’t?” It doesn’t sound right. Izuku seems so kind, so open, from how his writings always come across, from how Aizawa has spoken of the boy that only he sees. It doesn’t sound right , for Izuku to have no friends to talk to.

But he’s happier now .

What happened when he was alive?

Izuku must take pity on Shouto’s confusion, because he puts the chalk back on the board, and writes another message.

‘I was Quirkless.’

“You didn’t have a Quirk?” Shouto whispers, staring at the chalkboard before him, and the floating chalk shakes , a trembling sort of motion.

An anxious, fearful motion. Like a child fearful of being reprimanded, like a student who has searched for comfort and embraces where they’ve only been reached out to when people wanted to knock them down.

A familiar feeling, and yet Shouto has never been the one seeing it. 

Normally, he’s the shaken boy.

“I’m sorry,” Shouto says, and he’s not sure if he’s apologizing for the boy’s Quirklessness or because it’s so familiar , that fear and loneliness. There’s something in the air, in the world, that apologies need to be made for, and yet Shouto has never been on this side of the line.

It’s daunting.

The chalk moves back to the board, and the writing resumes. The ghost’s lines aren’t so frantically written, not this time.

‘I’m not,’ he writes. ‘I’m happier now.’

Happier.

After dying five years ago, just ten years old, far too early for anyone to die…Izuku says that he’s happier now.

If death has made Izuku happier than being alive did, then Shouto cannot help but wonder what living was like.

“That’s good,” Shouto says. “I’m…glad that you’re happy.”

The chalk hovers, still, stagnant, before slowly, cautiously, words appear.

‘You deserve to be happy, too.’

Shouto laughs. “Do I? Do I have to die for it too, Izuku?”

It’s an awful thing to say, so desperate, so cruel, and Shouto flinches from his own words. “I’m sorry,” he says. “I shouldn’t have-”

The chalk moves, quicker than before. It seems more determined, each mark more distinct.

Or maybe Shouto’s finally gone crazy, looking for patterns that don’t exist in a dead boy’s hasty scrawlings.

‘It’s your fire. It’s your Quirk. You are your own person. You don’t have to die to be happy- you just have to live for yourself .’

The last word is underlined once, twice, thrice over, and then the chalk is being dropped. And Shouto can’t see the ghost, can’t see Izuku when he moves, but suddenly his shoulders feel freezing and Shouto just knows the boy is holding him by the shoulders, trying to look him in the eyes and show him how sincere he is.

And Shouto bows his head, lest the boy notice how his eyes shine with unshed tears. 

“Thank you,” Shouto says. “I- I’ll keep that in mind.”

The chalk doesn’t get picked up again, and his shoulders stay icy with death for a few moments more, and yet somehow Shouto can feel the approval that Izuku is offering him.

He leaves the room, heading out to the stadium. He’ll do it.

And maybe he can’t bring himself to use the fire, his fire , for the first few matches. He hesitates, overcompensating with his ice where he cannot allow himself to give in and let go, the walls around his heart cracked but not yet thawed, and yet he keeps thinking of those words on the chalkboard, repeating them like a mantra in his head.

It’s his. It’s his, not his father’s. It’s his .

But it isn’t until the final round that Shouto is able to turn words into action. Not until he’s facing Katsuki Bakugou, the boy a weapon of his own right, backed by spite and stubbornness and dreams only half-spoken. 

No one’s greatest creation, just a dream of his own.

Bakugou confuses him, Shouto can admit. He’s angry and crass and crude, his temper brash and bold. He cares little about anyone's opinion, acts like the classic bully of a shōnen manga, and yet Shouto knows Bakugou is more than just a bully.

And he knows that Bakugou’s dream to be the best is more than just his own.

Because Bakugou knew Izuku, knew the ghost back when he was alive, and Shouto saw the grief-filled relief on the boy’s face when Izuku was revealed to the class on their first day of class.

Because Bakugou fought with desperation, backed by a rage-fueled frenzy, when they’d been attacked at the U.S.J..

Because Shouto has seen Bakugou sitting in their empty classroom time after time, just blankly staring at the messages Izuku had left throughout the day.

Bakugou is more than he seems, and maybe that’s how he’s the one who can get Shouto to finally heed Izuku’s words.

Because Bakugou knows Izuku like no one else.

“I saw his messages,” Bakugou says, voice low enough to keep people from hearing as they step into the ring. “I decided to drop by after my last match. It’s your power , huh, Icyhot? Deku’s back to rooting in everyone’s corner, isn’t he?”

“And what if he is?” Shouto asks.

“Well then you better fucking do what he said,” Bakugou taunts, smile turning into something wild as he unclenches his hands, explosions popping to life, “because Deku knows I’m the best, and he’s never rooted for someone nearly as much as me! So if you want to stand a chance, you better bring it and use all of your goddamn Quirk!”

And the walls fall down, ice pooling into puddles as Shouto finally lets go.

‘You deserve to be happy, too.’

He smiles, tears building up in his eyes. The fire hurts , but it feels relieving at the same time.

And as Shouto sends out a burst of flames towards Bakugou, he can almost see emerald eyes staring at him from within the heart of the fire.

(He loses, and yet it feels like victory all the same.)

—

Izuku always wanted to go to Yuuei as a kid. It was his dream, the same as many others. The perfect origin story for a hero, just like his friend always said. 

He always wanted to be a hero. Always wanted to save, to inspire, to bring the hope he lacked. He wanted to be a source of excitement, a bringer of joy.

And he wanted it all to start at Yuuei.

And he’s at Yuuei. He’s been here for five years now, growing up by his sort of adoptive father’s side, watching class 1-A’s come and go, living out their dreams. He’s happy for them, truly.

But sometimes he remembers the past, and it hurts. Because he wanted a Quirk, he wanted a mother who would be proud of him, he wanted his friends by his side as he did it all.

But then he was killed, or died, or something . He thinks there was far more going on than he knew, than he knows, because he can’t come up with any other reason.

Because whoever killed him, they killed his mother too. And Izuku wonders if that is why he can’t rest, this lack of knowing.

Or if it just isn’t his time to leave. If Izuku is stuck here because if he was not able to get the happy ending that he so desperately wanted, then he must instead live as support, watching from above as class 1-A’s come and go, facing obstacles and overcoming them, doing their best to be truly Plus Ultra .

Obstacles like now, like the final exams that class 1-A faces, facing their teachers head on to reach the end of their first term, to get one step closer to being heroes.

He wonders how he would have fared. Perhaps he would have failed, doomed by his lack of Quirk. Perhaps he would have surpassed all expectations, rising beyond beliefs.

But wondering gets him nowhere, and so Izuku sits back, watching from above as his once-childhood friend faces off against All Might.

He’s so proud of his Kacchan.

—

Katsuki Bakugou cries the night of his exams.

He could have sworn he saw a glimpse of the boy he once knew, just as he crossed through the gates.

He hopes he’s making Deku proud.

—

Time continues, stopping for none. Time doesn’t stop for anyone, does not wait for certain circumstances to be met before marching forever oneward. The summer begins and ends, as does the reign of the Symbol of Peace. All for One is captured, the League of Villains scattered, nowhere to be found. Class 1-A continues as time does the same, obtaining their Provisional Licenses, all twenty of them. 

Time continues moving.

The League of Villains find allies, in the shadows and streets, in dirty back allies and darkened rooms. Class 1-A meets the Big Three, gets wowed by their experiences.

The Shie Hassaikai becomes a point of interest.

Time moves onwards.

—

“I’ll provide support. I’ll help to back your goals. But I expect compensation in kind.”

“How much? We’re not hurting for cash, but-”

“I don’t want wages. I want manpower. At least three of you should help, but I want the young one, specifically.”

All eyes turn, staring at the smaller male, expression unchanging beneath the mist. There is no reaction from them, just an unending silence.

“The Noumu? Why him?” Shigaraki asks, head tilting. 

“It’s calm,” Chisaki states evenly. “It follows orders. I’ve seen its Quirks; it’s clearly strong. And it likely won’t scare those younger than it. It will be useful for cooperation.”

“Right,” Shigaraki says dismissively. “Fine. Just don’t break it- it was hard to get the controls set up correctly on that one.”

“Of course,” Chisaki agrees. “I look forward to doing business with you. I believe this will prove to be a most interesting alliance.”

—

“Here’s your new companion. You can keep him for as long as you play nice and listen . Understood, Eri?”

“I- I understand.”

He leaves, the door clicking shut behind him. Soft but firm, like always.

The boy doesn’t move. He doesn’t seem mean , but he doesn’t move. He just stares, unblinking, green eyes glowing bright in the mist that surrounds him.

“Hi,” Eri says, voice low like she’s always told to keep it. She doesn’t want to upset this new companion that she’s been given.

Doesn’t want to scare him, when she’s already cursed as it is.

The boy doesn’t move, and Eri doesn’t know what else to say, so she sits on the ground. The boy stares at her.

She pats the ground beside her. 

The boy moves, slowly and softly. He settles down beside her.

He doesn’t shout when Eri leans against him, doesn’t say anything at all.

She likes her new companion.

She hopes he gets to stay. She hopes he won’t be scared by her curse.

She hopes he’ll want to be her friend, too.

—

Time doesn’t stop.

But sometimes, for some individuals, time can be rewound.

—

Izuku Midoriya wakes up.

—

When Izuku disappears for the second time, it’s in the early morning, when Shouta is grading papers before work. There’s no warning, but Izuku does scream , the sound piercing in the relative silence of the teacher’s lounge, shocking Shouta to the core and leaving him wide eyed and frantic as he looks around.

“Izuku?” Shouta calls out, uncaring of how his coworkers look to him. “ Izuku?! ”

“Shouta?” Hizashi starts, but Shouta is whipping around, hoping and praying that his son will pop back into view.

“Izuku?” Shouta says again, voice growing more unsure. “This isn’t funny. You- you can’t just scream like that and disappear. It sounded painful- but you- you’re dead. You can’t feel pain, Problem Child. It’s not funny.”

“Young Aizawa, are you-” Yagi starts, and Shouta can’t start with him, not when he feels his nerves rising, something quite like fear tempting to drown him, pulling him under even as he struggles to stay afloat.

“Izuku-”

The door to the teacher’s lounge slams open. It’s Bakugou.

He looks like he’s seen a ghost.

“The news,” Bakugou breathes out. “Turn on the news.”

Hizashi does, flipping channels until Shouta inhales sharply.

A live report. An entire Yakuza group unconscious. A small girl held in a firm embrace.

A green-haired boy holding the girl, having just finished going on a rampage.

“Izuku,” Shouta breathes, and Hizashi seems surprised.

“That’s Izuku?” Hizashi asks, and it’s not Shouta that speaks.

“It’s Deku,” Bakugou confirms. “I’d know that damn nerd anywhere. He- I thought he-”

“I don’t know how ,” Shouta agrees, “but that’s my son.”

His son.

Alive.

Shouta runs out of the room. 

He doesn’t stop to tell Bakugou not to follow him.

A reunion is needed, after all. An in-person one, for once.

—

It’s been five years since Izuku Midoriya felt the warmth of an embrace. And yet when he comes to, it’s to a little girl clinging to him, apologies tumbling from her lips.

“I’m sorry,” she wails. “I didn’t mean to use my Quirk on you!”

He doesn’t know what her Quirk is, but considering that Izuku can feel his fingers and toes and everything around him, he doesn’t mind one bit.

“Thank you,” Izuku whispers, the near silent words cutting through her sobs. “Please don’t apologize, you’ve done nothing wrong.”

“I used my curse on you!” she says. “I took away your mist! I changed you!”

“You fixed me,” Izuku says, unsure of what she means by mist but happy it’s gone, whatever it was. “You blessed me.”

“I did?” She asks, and Izuku nods. 

“You did. I promise.” Tilting his head, he says, “I’m Izuku, what’s your name?”

“Eri,” she says, and Izuku smiles.

“Well, Eri, how about we leave…whatever this place is, and head out? I left my father in a rush, and I’d really like to get back to him. Would you like to meet him?”

“I would,” Eri says. “But we can’t leave. The door is locked.”

And it appears that it is, Izuku thinks, when he tries the door. A spark of irritation flares up in him, something small but quickly growing, because how dare someone lock them in a room, how dare they separate him from his family when he’s somehow back , living and breathing and burning from the inside out with something just begging to be released .

‘ Let go, ’ something whispers in Izuku’s mind, a subconscious thought that doesn’t feel like his own.

And Izuku listens.

And something comes out, black tendrils whipping frantically, clawing at the door and destroying it yet never touching himself nor Eri, uncontrolled and yet filled with self-restraint all the same. As if Izuku knows this Quirk- or, perhaps, as if this Quirk knows him.

‘Trust it,’ that voice whispers once more, and Izuku does . He trusts the Quirk as parts of it ease back into his palms, other tendrils remaining, sprouting and reaching, ready to attack, to protect .

Move.

He dodges to the right, and the sharp pain in his head recedes immediately, just as the ground caves in where he was. The walls begin to warp, sinking in around him, and Izuku snarls, one hand slamming out, black tendrils strengthening as his other hand wraps around Eri more securely. 

“Do you know the way out?” Izuku asks, and Eri whimpers.

“No,” she whispers. “He never let me out of the room. Not unless it was to take me apart and put me back together.”

Izuku has no clue what that means, but he does know that he doesn’t like whatever that means, not one bit.

“That’s alright,” Izuku assures the young girl in his arms. “I’ll just have to make an entrance, how about that?”

“How will you do that?” Eri asks, eyes sparking with curiosity, and Izuku hums. He taps his foot as he stares around him, and then, without thinking, begins to rock his entire body, until something is screaming at him to throw himself upwards.

And so Izuku leaps at the ceiling, the motion stronger than he could have ever expected, would have ever considered, the ceiling fracturing above him, falling open to show a crater, blue skies far above him.

“It’s him!” Eri squeaks out, and Izuku whips around to see eyes glaring at him from over the ugliest bird mask Izuku can say that he’s ever seen. 

“Who are you and what are you doing with Eri?” The villain asks, and Izuku raises an eyebrow.

“What do you mean ‘who am I’? You’re the one who locked me up in here!”

“Locked you up….no.” The villain turns his eyes on Eri, wide and scared . “Eri, did you use your curse on him?”

“It’s not a curse!” Izuku snarls. “She’s a blessing , and so is her Quirk!” 

“I suppose you’d believe that, having been raised from the dead as you are! But you will let her go now !”

“In your dreams,” Izuku says, and the villain huffs.

“So be it.”

The man rips one of his gloves off of his hand, slamming it onto the wall around him. A piercing feeling surges through Izuku, and he ducks just as the wall shoots out at him, a jagged spike right where his head had been.

What the fuck.

The villain twitches, and more spikes shoot out from the ground. Moving out of the way feels almost like second nature, as if Izuku has been dodging far more than the blows of the childhood bullies that he remembers, as if he’s been doing far far more than just following Aizawa around as a ghost.

Which is good, Izuku thinks, because if Izuku couldn’t act without thinking first, he’d probably be back as a spirit.

And this time, Izuku has a feeling that he wouldn’t remain tethered to the real world. Not anymore.

It’s instinct as Izuku whips around, black tendrils wrapping Eri to his chest as he uses his hands to send out even more tendrils, throwing himself around the room like a veteran acrobat, tossing himself over spikes and into walls, climbing higher and closer to freedom.

And the villain follows, slamming his hands onto the ground, forcing it to rise underneath him as he gives chase, too fast for Izuku to escape.

And then he’s being slammed into, a giant slab of wall knocking him off of his rhythm, and Izuku finds himself flying high into the air.

And not descending.

“I can…fly?” Izuku murmurs. “Huh.”

As if that’s the biggest surprise of the day.

It definitely isn’t, nor is it the most important thing to focus on. That’d probably be the angry bird-mask man who is shooting into the sky, right at Izuku and-

Oh, is that a gun?

Shit.

Some other day, Izuku will question just what all he’s spent the past five years doing, when he instantly rips the gun out of the villain's hand with his black tendrils, whipping it around and shooting the villain without an instance of hesitation. But that’s for another time, because the present only has Izuku watching as the villain collapses, the ground beneath him suddenly freezing, unmoving as the villain drops to the ground below.

Yikes. That had to have left a mark.

“How about we get you down from up here?” Izuku asks, instead of the ‘is he dead?’ that runs through his brain.

Yeah, Izuku can definitely wonder about the way he instinctively uses these Quirks- because he can’t figure out how these could all be just one Quirk, it’s impossible- some other time. For now, Izuku settles to the ground, the burning a mere ember as he holds Eri close to his heart, only setting her down on the ground when he’s certain that every person who wanted to attack is down for the count.

And then he hears it. Footsteps pounding, two voices shouting his name.

He looks up.

“It looks like you’ll get to meet my father much sooner than we thought,” Izuku manages to get out, even past the tears that rise to his eyes. “Along with my childhood friend.”

It’s been five years since Izuku Midoriya felt the warmth of an embrace.

And yet today he feels it when his father hugs him, holding him tight like he never wants to let go, only releasing him to let his childhood friend knock him to the ground in an embrace of his own, and Izuku realizes that he quite missed the warmth.

He’s burning inside and out, and it’s so much better than the cold.

—

A Noumu.

Izuku Midoriya had been turned into a Noumu. Kidnapped by a villain named All for One, as All Might revealed, and turned into a brainless machine. 

“It seems that they tried to make you sentient, like Kurogiri,” Detective Tsukauchi had said. “That’s what the records say.”

“I’m so sorry,” All Might had apologized. “That you were dragged into such a circumstance.”

Izuku didn’t know why All Might blamed himself. He said as much.

All Might had only shaken his head, pulling out a file.

“You were used to oppose me,” All Might said, voice broken, despondent. “The Quirks you were given were all ones that tied back to me. Everything done to you was a personal attack on my history. All for One and I were enemies, and you were pulled into the crossfire. This never should have happened.”

And Izuku didn’t understand how his ability to fly through the skies and create black tendrils could relate to All Might, along with everything else that he was beginning to discover, what with the near-premonition of an anxious warning that ran through his head and the pent up energy he was able to create, but he did know one thing.

“That’s bullshit, All Might, sir,” Izuku said. “Perhaps it was an attack against you, but you never asked for it to happen. People get caught up in issues they shouldn’t every day. People get hurt, but the person to blame isn’t you. It’s the person who kidnapped me and used me for their own gain.”

All Might had stared at him with such wonder, then, such surprise.

“You don’t blame me?” He asked, and Izuku shook his head.

“No.”

All Might had not been the one to kill him, after all, the one to separate his spirit from his body for five years. All Might had not killed his mother, had not blocked his memories, had not split him into two.

All Might was still the hero of Izuku’s childhood, and that was that.

And Izuku was alive .

He’s alive.

And now, at Yuuei, he’s ready to continue onwards.

It’s his turn now.

And with friends by his side, a father that supports him, and an arsenal of Quirks at his disposal, Izuku will show the world who he is.

Plus Ultra style.

(All for One better watch out. Izuku may not hold any grudge against All Might…but the villain is another story.)