Si Vis Pacem - athenoot - 僕のヒーローアカデミア | Boku no Hero Academia (2024)

Chapter 1: blank slate

Chapter Text

John Wick is hardly a religious man by nature, much less inclined to believe in the concept of rebirth.

He doesn't think he deserves it, anyway.

Rebirth.

The idea of being reborn into a new life, a life so far away from your previous one that it almost feels like cheating. Like starting clean again, an empty sheet of paper in front of you, no stains of black ink to give life to a different facet of you, or blood to bind your soul to another, or ashes for you to spread as a warning.

It's all a blank, sinless, bloodless slate when you're reborn, and John very much knows he's undeserving of it. How could he be after years and years of deadly service, of painting every place he went to a nauseous shade of red—the remnants of people he was ordered to kill? People he killed out of raw, agonizing fury for what they did to what was left of the only few good things in his life?

His hands were filthy with the blood of too many people, his conscience no less haunted by their ghosts despite him blocking them out. It was his job, but that didn't make his missions and killings any less unforgivable. It was his job, but that didn't mean John Wick was free of any retribution. He was only one mortal man, after all.

Because of this, he doesn't believe in the concept of rebirth, or getting second chances at life, or living a different existence from your own. He couldn't.

So why is it that, after breathing his last breath and letting the darkness finally take him away from his beaten, battered, and exhausted body to someplace quieter, his beliefs get rattled, and he wakes up in a body so small, less burdened with scars and old wounds, and so, so young?

~

The first thing John sees clearly after opening his eyes is a woman.

A woman who isn't Helen, nor the Director, nor Sofia. Instead, it's a woman with oddly green-colored hair and matching eyes, looking down at him with this softness that he only ever saw his wife direct at him.

This woman isn't Helen, though. Helen has gone to a place he thought he could take a glimpse of before dropping into hell, and John had all but allowed for her memory to be put to rest.

Still, even though this woman isn't Helen, there's something about her that tells him he could trust her, that he could allow himself to release the tension in his shoulders, that he could finally stop running. That he could feel like his demons aren't going to reach him.

The woman smiles at him. It's a nice smile, John thinks. Helen used to smile at him like that, but this one is different. He doesn't know what it is, but it's...a good different, he supposed. It's far from the many vicious grins and the cold-blooded stares he'd receive from the people who went for the bounty on his head.

"Good morning, my baby Izuku," the woman says gently, and- oh, so this woman is his mother then. And John's name in this life is Izuku. And apparently, he's in Japan and can understand Japanese.

Well. Alright, then.

The woman—his mother in this life...she's so incredibly different from the Director. Sure, the Director gave him a home when he was left orphaned, gave him food to eat, and training to keep him from getting killed, but there was always this yawning gap between them, an unspoken line drawn in the sand.

(That yawning gap turned into a deep chasm when he returned to the Ruska Roma, thinking his ticket could get her to help him because he had forgotten how his old home was bound to the High Table like a dog to its master. The phantom burn of the branding iron could still be felt.)

It was an iron wall that separates Jardani and his adoptive mother because they are John Wick and the Director above all else, a relationship he couldn't bother trying to figure out because he's learned to keep a good distance away from things like that. He knows she barely had enough tolerance for those who didn't meet her standards, much less those who broke the rules.

Yet John couldn't help but wonder why the Director (reluctantly) agreed to help him get to Casablanca, in the end, despite his ex-communication, despite the repercussions of helping someone like him. Whether it was out of the little kindness left in her heart, or a sense of responsibility and honor, he would never know. She was always hard to read—a trick he picked up that, more often than not, saved him the trouble of dealing with analytical assassins.

(Some part of him, that young orphaned boy, hoped that her punishment didn't lead to her head rolling on the floor.)

Either way, this current life's mother is a completely new specimen to him, yet he feels a sense of connection with her that surpasses the kind he had with the Director. Something not weighed by debt and emotional indifference, or burdened by rules and old traditions.

John never quite remembered what his birth mother looked like, nor knew the kind of relationship they had before he was found by the Director and the Ruska Roma, but as he stares at the woman still smiling at him, he thinks maybe that this could be what having a mom is supposed to be like.

~

John discovers eventually that his identity in this current life is Izuku Midoriya, a Japanese boy whose mother is named Inko Midoriya.

He also discovers that navigating the world as a baby is incredibly difficult than he initially thought. But at least he has all of his fingers, even if they're tiny and too weak to lift a gun. Small mercies, he ruminates.

He doesn't let this become a setback. He could use the time to gather information about this world, see what's changed. Knowing the gist of how reincarnation works (from the stories his past adoptive brothers and sisters would whisper to him on rare nights when they would interact normally), he's either a hundred years in the future, a thousand years in the past, or just in a different dimension entirely.

Any of those could be a possibility, but John will make sure to be prepared for all of them.

Although, he can't say that he isn't at least confused at the first mention of quirks after hearing the word from his new mother as she's chatting with another woman with blonde hair and unusually red eyes, lounging in what he figures is a living room.

"Knowing you, Inko, I bet the little bugger will have a pretty insane quirk once he grows up," the blonde woman says, and there it is again.

Quirks.

What did they mean? Quirks, as in, a peculiarity? A characteristic? Judging from her tone as well as the latter words, perhaps a "quirk" is something akin to a unique ability, a - dare he says it - superpower.

It couldn't be possible, but given his circ*mstance, perhaps anything could be.

"I could say the same about Katsuki-kun," his mother responds with a gentle smile in her voice. Gentle. His mother is rather gentle. So, so different from the Director. "He'd be one firecracker, I bet."

"He has me for a mom, of course, he'd be a firecracker!" The blonde laughs softly, and John notices the stroller parked near her by the armchair before she pulls it closer.

Is the other baby in that stroller this Katsuki boy his mother mentioned? Possibly. But there are other matters that he feels more inclined to pay attention to. Like what quirks actually are in this life. Surely it's not anything too complicated, but even if it was, John could adapt.

He always does.

~

Being a baby is such a bizarre experience that it could probably rival his encounter with Zero. To be fair, he's never even had this kind of experience at all until now, so he could excuse himself attempting to get out of his crib but end up falling back into it headfirst with a thump, earning a worried mother fretting around him for his little stunt.

In conclusion, he should wait a little while longer before attempting another escape, when his baby muscles are a little stronger and a bit more coordinated.

That's fine. John is, above all else, patient. Among all the lessons the Ruska Roma ever taught him, it's perseverance that wins against mindless power.

So he'll wait.

(And it's not because he feels out of his element when his mother continues to worry over him even after his first venture out of the crib.)

~

John gets to learn more about "quirks" the same day he learns how to walk without tripping on his ass again.

His mother is surprised but happy for his milestone (such a weird thing to hear as a grown man in a toddler's body) and she repeatedly asks him to walk to her any chance she got, something John knew he should go along with lest he wants to concern her even more than he already does.

What really throws him off though was that every time he reached her, she'd scoop him up in her arms with a little twirl, a delighted sound escaping her lips. He doesn't think he's ever been subjected to this sort of reaction to whatever achievement he had made during his days at the Ruska Roma, most of the time getting a nod of approval from the Director and his trainers, so he's completely unprepared for the reactions of Inko Midoriya.

That's not to say they're...unwelcomed. But he should probably get accustomed to the open, motherly affection he's receiving now because this world is exceedingly unlike the one he was living in before.

(Somewhere in his mind, he knows this isn't much different from the affection Helen used to give him, but it's different when it's a parent. A parent that doesn't begin training him to be a ruthless killer at the age of seven.)

She's currently fast asleep on the couch, her phone, by chance, open and ready to be used on the table. A mother's exhaustion is certainly a problematic thing, but for now, he's somewhat grateful for it. At least he doesn't have to plan on how he could get the phone without her notice.

Carefully, as to not awaken his mother, John scoops up the phone (a touchscreen phone, thankfully) and gets to work on the search engine.

Suffice to say, he's enlightened, if a little perplexed.

From what he had read, Quirks are metahuman abilities of unknown origin (although people theorized that it was radioactive rats that spurred on the biological evolution within humans) that occupy 80% of the world's population while the rest do not, the remaining statistic being labeled "Quirkless".

The first-ever recording of this ability came from China, a baby with glowing—legitimately glowing—skin, and the rest was apparently history.

The world has undoubtedly made drastic changes following the emergence of Quirks. The technology is far more advanced in this life—to match and accommodate the growing powers of every individual, he figures—and there are separate studies about Quirks as well. If he's lucky, maybe he could get some reading material about them.

What catches his attention the most though was one particular profession that came into existence in this superpowered era and that is Professional Heroics.

Truthfully, John doesn't have much of an opinion about professional heroes and the ins and outs of the job because it's what it is; a job.

A job where, apparently, you can freely use your Quirks as mandated by Quirk laws for the safety and protection of civilians, and the arrest and detainment of the polar opposite of heroes; villains.

It's different, to be sure, from the profession of hitmen and assassins where you are trained to kill instead of saving. In this world, law enforcement is involved in your job and you could be stripped of it at a moment's notice if you somehow failed enough times to become an issue.

(Did Jimmy ever want to arrest him after knowing?)

His mother begins to stir, making John return the phone to its rightful place on the coffee table before he just as quietly goes back to his bedroom, thoughts of heroes and supernatural abilities buzzing in his mind.

This life is getting more and more unfathomable each day, making him second guess everything, but what else can he do but go along with it?

~

His first word happens to be half a Latin phrase that he subconsciously remembered and translated to Japanese, and frankly, he could only blame Winston for it.

One day he's sitting beside his mother on the couch as the news show captured footage of a fiery disaster, screams, and multiple bodies occupying it. A villain attack, the news anchor called it. It sure looks like it, with all the flames and cries of civilians happening in the video.

It doesn't necessarily bother John, really, having been used to the sounds and the sights of fallen bodies for decades, but this is different, he knows. He didn't kill mindlessly, didn't involve people who weren't of concern because he was only focused on the task at hand, his sole target. What's happening on the news, however, was senseless destruction.

But then someone big and obnoxiously colorful cuts through the fire and the terror with a booming, ambitious laugh, and John sees blond hair styled to a V, blue and red spandex, and a pearly white smile that aches his own cheeks.

"Everything is fine! Why? Because I am here!"

All Might had been that towering man's name. Fitting.

Japan's Symbol of Peace has come to the rescue, the news anchor said. Symbol of peace, huh?

"If you wish for peace," John whispers absently, remembering the phrase from a time he left behind when he wanted peace more than anything, and he had to fight tooth and nail to get it. (And that was his mistake, thinking he would ever have it in the end.)

And then his mother gasps at what he just said and he's reminded again how emotional she can be over the small things.

~

"Mitsuki! My baby said his first words!" His mother cries happily over the phone. "I don't know what it means, but they're his first words, Mitsuki! My baby is so smart!"

John is currently being held hostage in her tight hug and he thinks to himself how odd his mom is. A good kind of odd, but odd nonetheless.

~

He'll have to get used to referring to himself as his new identity, as his current life now that his previous one is, technically, no longer alive.

It's not so different from changing his birth name to the anglicized version of it, so really, what's there to cause a fuss about?

Logically, he knows he should already get used to being addressed as Izuku (or Midoriya, because of Japanese customs) because, on legal documents and his mother's emotional spirit, he is not John Wick nor Jardani Jovonovich nor Baba Yaga.

He is Izuku Midoriya, three years old, and has no history of bloodshed and betrayal and revenge plots on his tiny conscience.

Yeah.

This will take a while.

"I'm Izuku Midoriya," he says to his mirror self in the bathroom, face as passive and emotionless as ever. Green eyes stare back.

"I'm Midoriya Izuku," he corrects, remembering how Japan addresses names.

He repeats the introduction for a long time while his mother is busy preparing dinner, trying to get his mind into accepting his new name through the method.

It doesn't stick completely by the dozenth try, and John wants to rewrite the contents of his brain starting with what his name is. Patience, he reminds himself.

He repeats. And repeats. And repeats.

It doesn't stick by the eighteenth attempt, but maybe he's going about this wrongly. Maybe he doesn't need to keep recycling the name over and over until it's become a Pavlovian response. Maybe he just needs to think about how Midoriya Izuku could be John Wick the way John Wick was to Jardani Jovonovich.

A mask over the real thing. Fake it till you make it, as the saying goes. In any case, he had been John Wick longer than he had been Jardani Jovonovich, so perhaps Midoriya Izuku could have the same effect.

Here's to hoping.

~

So, preschool.

John hardly has any memories of attending preschool. He had been homeschooled all his life, all things considered, but he can honestly say now that he doesn't like it.

At all. And he's saying this as a grown man existing as a child.

But he can't complain about it now. His mother had been excited for him and his first day of school, so he'll just have to grit his teeth and bear it.

And bear it he did, because the children are...too much. Too loud, actually. And John had been to plenty of raves, and concerts, and nightclubs before. But in his defense, he only ever showed up in those kinds of places for business, never returning a second time unless he had to.

Now, though, he has to return to this noisy chaos of a classroom every single school day for the next dozen months and counting. Fun.

And then he feels a finger poking his arm quite aggressively.

"Oi, are you Auntie's kid?"

John smothers that muffled, ingrained instinct to pull-break-dislocate and turns his head to see red eyes and spiky sand blond hair. Unusual, but he's seen weirder (like that one plump kid with literal dragon wings, for instance).

He must've been quiet for too long when the same blond boy pokes him harder to get his attention. "Hey, are you deaf or something?"

"No."

The other boy scoffs.

"Then why didn't you answer me?"

Oh, right, that.

"I don't know who your aunt is," John says truthfully and straight to the point.

The blond frowns at him, and John distantly remembers another kid from a faraway past in Ruska Roma with the same temperament as this one. Except that kid had been less confrontational. "Auntie Inko! Are you her kid or what? My old hag said you'd be here."

Ah, so this must be...

"Yeah, I am. Are you Katsuki?" John is certain this boy is that Katsuki baby from three years ago when John first opened his eyes and realized his situation.

"Damn right I am. I'm Bakugou Katsuki," the blond, Katsuki, affirms and John is also certain that children his age shouldn't have a vocabulary like that, but to each his own, he guesses. "What's your name, extra?"

Hm. A self-confident, domineering personality, a colorful vocab, and calling people "extras". This would likely develop into a problem in the future, but it's not John's job to deal with it at the moment.

"Midoriya Izuku," he returns. It's been getting a little easier to respond to his new name lately. Maybe those midnight sessions of whispering his new name while the world was asleep were helpful after all.

Katsuki crosses his arms as he looks to be assessing him. "So, wanna play or some crap?"

He doesn't. He'd rather do anything else but play with other kids that don't know the meaning of personal space. Although...

John glances at the cluster of children laughing and shoving and coloring together while the teachers watch. There aren't any lessons happening right now since it's just the first day, which gives everyone free time to know each other, and so far no one has come to interact with him except Katsuki.

Hm. His mother did tell him to have a good day, and to tell her what he did at school...

John looks back at the impatient face of Katsuki. "Okay."

That later became his first mistake out of many.

~

"Bakugou Katsuki, you're in big trouble, young man!"

"Izuku, baby, did you actually bite Katsuki-kun's arm?!"

"How could you beat up little Izu like that?!"

"Please don't tell me you gave him a black eye too!"

"I thought I told you not to start any fights, you brat!"

"Izuku, I didn't raise you to be this violent!"

"It's only the first day, Katsuki, and you broke his nose!"

"When we get home, I'm limiting your TV time!"

"You are so damn grounded, mister!"

John and Katsuki glance at each other, their faces dirtied and bruised as they stand side by side across their respective mothers, and John would like to think they have some form of mutual understanding and connection if Katsuki's subtle but feral grin is any indication.

John just looks away.

~

John definitely has this whole reincarnation situation under control, even if he gets confused with the science behind Quirks, and the function behind normal relationships.

And if he somehow messes up and garners unwanted attention? Well... That's a problem to tackle for another time. Now, his new mission is to live the life he wished for, fought for, killed for, and more. It'll be a challenge for sure, but he has it handled.

Yeah.

Chapter 2: dare to know

Chapter Text

Friendship had been a tenuous thing at best and a critical weakness at worst during his active years.

John barely made close friends, even back when he had been young, yet Marcus just couldn't take John ignoring him as an answer the first time they met on a rainy day, both aiming to kill their targets who happened to be siblings.

They became close somewhere down the road, with Marcus being his first and genuine friend, but what did they end up becoming? One with bullets lodged in his body all in the name of friendship and the other reborn as a three-year-old boy in a superhuman society.

John didn't make any more friends after Marcus, the nature of their work serving to remind him that friendship couldn't coincide with the job, and he thought that would be the end of it.

Still, that darkness didn't seem to reach him when Katsuki practically drags him outside to go exploring in the nearby forest of their neighborhood, a catching net resting on his tiny shoulder.

John doesn't complain, but he wants to since Katsuki interrupted his studying and Mom supported the other boy's idea of "getting some fresh air".

"Why are we here?" He asks as he stares at the tall chain link fence with the obvious signs clipped on them, giant characters telling outsiders to keep out. For a self-proclaimed genius, Katsuki sure doesn't know how to read.

"To catch a bunch of bugs, duh!" Katsuki answers with an eager grin. Were children really ever this excited to be trespassing private property? John will never know. "We can show 'em to the old hag and Auntie once we're done."

"You'll be in trouble for breaking the rules." He should know. He had broken so many before he came here.

"No, I won't! Now shut up and get moving."

He'd rather not, but Katsuki has already started to drag him by the wrist against his will and stomping happily on the grass with his chest out and head raised high like a boy on a mission. John simply sighs and just goes along with it.

Later, they venture deeper into the forest, a few straggling beetles in the tiny glass jars Katsuki had on him.

"My birthday's coming up next week," the blond mentions casually, but there's a tinge of child-like anticipation too.

John hums to let him know he's listening.

"That means I'm gonna get my Quirk soon!" He raises a fist in the air.

"Do you know what you'll get?" According to the Wiki articles he had read when Mom wasn't looking, the child's Quirk is usually a combination or a variant of both or one of the parents' Quirks. There are exceptions too but they're rare and come few and far in between, and are labeled mutations. An odd way to name an entirely different Quirk from your parents' but hey, John isn't a biology expert.

Katsuki hops over a large tree root with John following close behind. "Dunno. But I bet it's gonna be damn awesome!"

"Hm."

Katsuki looks back at him, his feral grin still plastered on his young face, "Maybe you'll get a cool Quirk too, Izuku. Just not as cool as mine will be!"

"Sure." John doesn't exactly care about what superhuman ability he'll get at four years old, but he can stand to indulge the other boy's child-like hopes and fantasies.

"Hey, I know! We could be, like, a hero duo!" Katsuki then begins to walk backward as he addresses John, their little quest for insects left behind. "I'll be the Number One Hero while you'll be my sidekick. Like All Might and Sir Nighteye!"

"Why?" John finds himself asking and he hasn't the slightest idea why.

Katsuki stares at him as if he said something completely stupid. "What do you mean 'why?' Because we're friends, idiot, that's why!"

"I'm your friend?"

"Uhh, yeah? Did you lose your hearing or something?"

"Hm."

Friendship often ends in different ways. For John, it's betrayal, or following strict orders, or keeping the friendship alive whilst doing your job and risking your life because of it.

This friendship hardly risks their lives, though. Midoriya Izuku has never had the kind of self-restriction John Wick had, and Bakugou Katsuki is the first one to be his friend in this new life. The first one since Marcus, really.

Well. Maybe he can afford to have a friend here. For Midoriya Izuku's benefit.

"Okay."

"Let's f*cking go then!" Katsuki yells to the sky and off they go, collecting a few more beetles as Katsuki dreams of what his power will be, with John (Izuku) listening beside him.

~

Katsuki gets his Quirk in the middle of the afternoon on his birthday.

Everyone gathers around him with John standing further away, but even then, he can hear the crackles and pops coming from the source standing in the middle of the room.

"Wow!"

"So cool!"

"Awesome!

"You have such an amazing Quirk, Katsuki-chan!"

John can see the happiness glowing on Katsuki's face from where he stands. He's glad for him. But the praises from everyone are starting to become a bit too much for John's tastes.

"Your Quirk is way cooler than mine!"

"You're amazing, Katsuki-kun!"

"With that Quirk, you can be a great hero!"

Personally, John knew what hubris and excessive ego can do to someone. They become too conceited in their skills, overestimating themselves, which leaves them thinking they can bend any rule they want because they believe they're the greatest.

He recalls two people in particular.

Perkins comes to mind first. She broke the Continental's rules when she tried to eliminate him and paid the price for it.

Next is a senior of his from his early days. Formerly one of Ruska Roma's best, that senior had been at the top of his game. He had garnered notoriety, then his reputation had gotten to his head, and he slipped, badly. Badly enough to earn heavy gunshots to the head, point black, by his target's hired hitman. That senior had been one of the only few examples of failure the children of the Ruska Roma were instructed not to follow, and John took to heart the dangers of overconfidence.

Witnessing the children and the teachers crowding Katsuki over a natural part of your biology reminds John of those two people and their ultimate ends. And distantly, he wonders if it'll happen again here too.

"So, what do you think of my Quirk, Izuku? Pretty damn cool, right?" Katsuki later asks him during break time, still on some kind of high from the praises and admiration thrown his way.

The power to create explosions for a kid with a matching personality. There are a lot of things he wants to say about that, but he settles for, "Yeah."

Katsuki laughs triumphantly.

"This totally proves that I'm amazing! The other extras don't have anything on me!"

And Katsuki simply goes on and on while John just listens. (And later blocks out because this is starting to remind him of Santino and his complexes.)

~

It's subtle, but Katsuki begins to change for the worse, in John's opinion.

The boy became a lot more brash and aggressive in later weeks, to the point he's started picking fights—or as Katsuki loved to put it, "challenging the weaklings"—with older kids.

Nobody thought to stop him or admonish him for his behavior, not even the teachers. Katsuki's mom, however, is a different story, but she can only do so much when the blond boy is not at home, something John is aware of.

Therefore, he appoints himself as a buffer, a decision he'll likely regret, but if it's to prevent Katsuki from becoming the next Perkins or Santino, he'll do it. Besides, some of the kids in their class are slowly becoming a little frightened of Katsuki, and practically begging John, Katsuki's (evidently) only close friend, with their eyes to keep him from setting his sights on them as potential competition/punching bags.

After decades of being hired a few times for strengthened security detail, John can't quite say no.

One such instance of him enacting his new job is when Katsuki corners another kid with a minor skin-changing Quirk once school was over for reasons beyond John's understanding. As terrible luck would have it, no other teachers were outside with them. Wonderful.

"You and me, let's fight!" The red-eyed boy declares with a feral smirk and the frightened kid in front of him cowers even more.

John sighs through his teeth and marches forward.

"Katsuki, enough." He snatches Katsuki's wrist, and he doesn't return the grateful look the third boy sends him before running off, his eyes only trained on a stunned Katsuki.

"The hell are you doing, Izuku?" John has yet to let go of the boy's wrist.

"Keeping you out of trouble."

Katsuki tries to release himself from his hold, but John has a secure grip.

"I don't need you keeping me out of trouble! I wanted to show that bastard who's the best around here," is Katsuki's retort and it's incredibly irritating how similar he is with Viggo's son. co*cky. Impudent. Never thinking of consequences.

The thought dies as soon as it's birthed. John fully stares at Katsuki, his hand not leaving the other's wrist. Katsuki looks back, but he breaks eye contact to try and pry himself away, but John doesn't budge.

No. Katsuki and Viggo's son aren't the same, he tells himself.

Iosef had been a grown man, pampered for years and years in a kingdom his father had built up because of John Wick.

Katsuki is a four-year-old boy who had recently been given too much freedom to do whatever he wanted because of an ability regarded as amazing by others.

But he'll be tugged in the right direction by his friend. By Midoriya Izuku. Because of Midoriya Izuku.

Yeah. John will make sure there won't be another Iosef Tarasov in this life either.

"Let go, you asshole!"

He feels the heat before he hears the pops and crackles, and John releases his grip, composed and controlled against Katsuki's fiery temperament.

"What gives, huh?!" Katsuki spits.

"You were being an idiot," is his response.

"No, I wasn't! I was telling that kid who's the greatest because he thinks he's all cool for changing his skin and sh*t. It's lame!"

Were children really this obnoxious at this age?

After a minute of staring at Katsuki and gouging if he actually believes the words he's saying (he does), he turns away. And then he walks.

"Where the hell are you going?!" Katsuki yells after him. John doesn't look back as he keeps strolling to the courtyard where their mothers will surely be waiting for them.

"I'm telling Aunt Mitsuki what you did today."

"What?! No way, why the hell—"

"Because you weren't being a hero."

That sparks another bout of rage and his past life's muscle memory and instincts swiftly possess him to step aside, and an angry Katsuki charges through the spot he left just earlier like a raging bull, hands steaming and crackling. Ah, so he propelled himself with his small explosions. Creative.

Katsuki levels a glare that only four-year-olds can manage and growls like an irate cat, "Heroes are always strong so they always win. I'm strong, so I always win!"

He stalks up to John, but he doesn't falter nor back away, standing firm and unintimidated. "That kid had a weak Quirk, and he was a wimp, so I made sure he knew his place!"

His reasoning is as appalling as it is irrational, but he's a preschooler, and according to the Director, they're naturally difficult things to manage. But from John's experience watching the Director handle toddlers from afar, he knows that preschoolers can be subject to change with particular, effective methods.

So he does the next course of action.

"Does All Might do that to civilians too?" Call it a dirty move, using the other boy's admiration to his advantage, but it's for the best. Katsuki needs to tone his ego down before it kills him one day.

Katsuki loses the scowl, but his brows still furrow together. "What?"

"Does All Might act like you towards other people? Call them wimps for not being like him?"

"I don't—"

He gets straight to the point of it. He'd rather not waste any more words on typical childish behavior that could easily be corrected. "Heroes don't act as you do towards others, Katsuki. Only villains do. And I don't think you're a villain. So don't do that again."

He leaves without anything left to say, because what else is there? He already sounded hypocritical enough for him to kick at himself mentally (because in his previous life, he knew he was a "villain" from the lives he stole without mercy), but he doesn't want Katsuki to end up like anyone he's ever fought back then.

He has the potential to be better.

Later, he hears instead of sees Katsuki catching up to him, walking beside him in silence.

Until, "I'm not a villain, stupid."

John simply hums in agreement. There's nothing else for him to say.

~

It's the day after his fourth birthday when he and his mother go to see a doctor about his Quirk and when it will emerge.

Personally, John doesn't see why they should see a doctor for that. It's only been a day since he turned a year older with no outward signs of supernatural abilities but what does he know? Definitely not the unsaid rules in this society that worship literal licensed heroes rather than rich mafia bosses. Besides, it's his mother who suggested the visit, and John just couldn't say no.

So they go see the doctor.

And frankly, he just wants to go home and nap or something because apparently, an extra joint in the pinky toe is a "bad sign", judging from his mother's expression on her face as the bespectacled, mustached man goes on to explain that John—Izuku—is Quirkless. As if it's a disease somehow.

But John doesn't show any hint of displeasure, anger, sadness, disappointment, or whatever at the news—it's mostly out of habit, not reacting overly expressive to anything, which is likely why it earned him quite a reputation among the less self-controlled people who liked the challenge of getting him to crack under ten minutes.

This is also most likely why his mother is glancing at him worriedly whilst speaking with the doctor.

John hasn't blocked out the conversation for the rest of the visit, deeming the information passed between the two adults as important, and has taken to observing the X-ray scan of his small foot.

There's the extra, "uncommon" pinky toe joint. John likes to think he's well versed enough in the human anatomy to think there's nothing inherently wrong with his body, but basing off on his mother's reaction earlier and the doctor's pitying look behind his glasses, he doesn't think they have the same thought process.

Really, how far has humanity evolved since he had last roamed the earth that having a normal (by his standards, at least) extra joint is considered a bad omen?

Well, whatever. It's not John's problem to fix. If this revelation will give him trouble (and he has a hunch it will, considering how cruel people can get over the most inconsequential things) then he'll just have to work around it. Complaining wouldn't get him very far when all is said and done.

After the doctor's visit, his mother attempts to cheer him up with some ice cream down the road. It's unnecessary, really, since John thinks he hasn't expressed any negative emotion under the sun for her to add another destination to today's itinerary, but seeing her look at him with care and concern of a worried parent made him give in and nod.

The brownie fudge chocolate ice cream tastes like a childhood nostalgia he never had.

~

Katsuki, with the explosive pettiness of a four-year-old, slams their table with both hands. John can see hints of a crackling sparkle pop into existence but he remains unbothered.

"The hell do you mean you're Quirkless?!"

The other kids are minding their own business (more like giving him a wide berth as per the teacher's "instructions") so they don't react much to Katsuki's outburst aside from the very few curious glances.

John, meanwhile, just continues to read.

"Oi, don't ignore me!" Katsuki demands, reaching for the little picture book in his hands, one of the typical tactics of getting someone's attention.

John smoothly puts it away before it could receive any nitroglycerin damage. "What?"

"What do you mean 'what?', you're Quirkless, Izuku! That means you're weak and useless!"

Clearly, Katsuki doesn't seem to notice how there's not a single, molecular sh*t John is giving about that, but he's four, and four-year-olds, understandably, have more emotional thought processes than they do critical ones.

"And?"

Katsuki scoffs, "And that means you can't be a hero, idiot."

"I don't want to be a hero."

John certainly has never even imagined being one, not even after witnessing that video of Japan's Number One Hero saving countless lives with a cheek-aching smile. He had the odds stacked against him in that regard in his past life, taking lives for the benefit of other richer, more powerful ones. He took a lot of lives even without being ordered to do so as well. Who's to say he won't end up like that again here?

No, John will keep Midoriya Izuku as innocent and free of bloodshed as he could, because Izuku hasn't grown up in a crime organization for decades, promised not to go back to that dark place only to end up there anyway.

Midoriya Izuku hasn't been touched by the underworld, and John Wick would like to keep it that way.

Katsuki stares at him with so much emotion passing through his face, but what settles eventually is a frown-glower combo. "You're lying, of course, you wanna be a hero!"

John is seriously getting tired of this. "I said I don't."

"Why not? Everybody wants to be a hero because heroes are cool and they always win!"

"I don't want to be a hero, Katsuki."

"Liar! You're just being a wimp because you're Quirkless and can't be a hero anymore," Katsuki says, crossing his arms like any other petulant child who has been spoonfed too many ego-fueling compliments. "You can't be my hero partner without a Quirk, stupid."

John decides to go the usual route with guys like this.

"Sure."

Katsuki doesn't seem to like the lackluster response.

"Tch. Whatever! I'm gonna be number one anyway while you'll be stuck as a loser pebble on the side of the road!"

"Yeah."

John goes back to reading afterward, ignoring Katsuki entirely throughout the whole day because he honestly has no energy left to handle him. Yet Katsuki is so relentless and stubborn that it's starting to remind him of Zero but a bit more choleric and prone to swearing, which he definitely does not need at the moment. The teachers were of no help in reigning Katsuki in.

A few hours later on their way home, Katsuki continues to prod at him, "Oi, seriously, don't even think about being a hero, or else I'll clobber you!"

Just ignore him. It's easy. So easy. He had dealt with and survived Zero, had put up with Iosef, and had held himself back from bashing Santino's teeth in at the museum; surely he can survive Katsuki throughout the trek home.

He does. Barely. Because the blond boy is quite the loudmouth, filling their one-sided conversations with more taunts and petty insults.

"Now that you're Quirkless, I'm way more amazing than you!"

"..."

"You can't even stand on the same ring as me!"

"..."

"Y'know, since you're useless, I'm gonna call you Deku now, 'cause that's another way to say your name, useless Deku!"

How original.

John arrives at the apartment complex in time for Katsuki bragging about being the best again, and without looking back at him, he says, "Goodbye, Katsuki."

He doesn't wait to stick around for what his next reaction will be. If this is the end of their "friendship" then fine. John had already learned his lesson in that respect.

~

Later that night, John researches the statistics of Quirkless people thoroughly. What he finds is...upsetting, but it's not like he didn't see it coming.

People can be cruel. Especially to those who aren't as privileged as them, or completely different from the norm they're comfortable with.

There are articles on how the Quirkless are treated.

Online forums where the Quirkless share their horrible experiences and take in the comfort and understanding from those with similar stories.

Statistics of Quirkless suicides, unemployment, homelessness, abuse, etc.

It goes on and on, and John can't help but wonder what sort of world they'd be living in if the government allowed the ruthless society he used to survive in to exist now. If they allowed the Quirkless to find ways to defend themselves against those with powers, to find jobs that don't need Quirks, to give them a home even when it doesn't feel like it, but he shuts those thoughts down immediately.

There's been enough death on his conscience already. He's not ready for another world like that here, even if so this hero-worshipping society won't see Quirkless people as less than dirt.

He has no dreams when he closes his eyes that night, but he promises himself just the same that he won't become another statistic. For his sake and his mother's.

Chapter 3: aware of what will be

Chapter Text

It doesn't go unnoticed how the other kids and teachers are treating him more differently.

They think of him as someone easy to break, the runt of the pack, the weak link in the chain. While the sentiment goes unsaid, their actions speak clearer than anything else.

They don't do anything necessarily cruel to him, the most they did was ignore him, but they do snicker and whisper things behind his back when they think he can't hear them. Eventually, they follow Katsuki's footsteps and call him "Deku", to which he doesn't react beyond a side glance. The teachers, meanwhile, are just less involved. They treat him the same way one would treat an infant, but they don't stop the other children from murmuring insults at him.

But John is fine with that. This is more preferable to being surrounded at all sides by happy-go-lucky children (instead of children trained to hunt, protect, serve, kill, kill, kill).

Plus, John isn't used to having more than one acquaintance outside of work so he goes on with the rest of the day unconcerned by what they think. It's better to be underestimated, a thread of advice given to him by his old fellow Marines that ended up being helpful to him during his first few years active.

Katsuki, however, continues to hang around him for whatever reason.

He's still as turbulent and explosive as ever, and he keeps calling him "Deku" among the plethora of creative insults and nicknames, but he doesn't leave him alone despite his outspoken distaste for him. He even noticeably gets irritated when their classmates call him "Deku", barking at them to shut up before turning away to talk (aggressively) with him.

What a strange kid. Perhaps it's because of John's lack of reaction to his insults? Only the universe knows.

What John knows, however, is that this is just the beginning of a difficult road ahead. But he's used to his life being difficult at this point, so he'll clench his teeth and bear it.

At least, he thinks, while walking home with Katsuki being insulting, as usual, the only problems he'll be facing are more mundane to a kid with a normal childhood than one of mixed martial arts training and learning how to shoot.

~

(He should've known better, really, that fate will never be that nice to him.)

~

John doesn't tell Mom about Katsuki.

And it's not because he doesn't trust her enough to do so. She has enough on her plate already, working late to support the two of them, and he thinks that adding the information of Katsuki's sudden maltreatment towards John would crush her. Or at the very least bring unnecessary trouble.

Katsuki is her friend's son, after all, and Mom is a sentimental woman who loves him too, so hearing about how he's being cruel to John—toIzuku— would undoubtedly break her heart.

So John doesn't tell her. Especially not of the harshness being thrown his way at school.

Not yet at least. There will come a day when he has no choice, but not today, or tomorrow, or the day after.

He can handle this just fine. He's experienced worse treatment.

~

Regardless of how he's treating him lately, John still stops Katsuki from picking fights with other kids.

Some part of him knew that he didn't have to mitigate every outburst of the blond picking fights.

There was nothing to be gained from doing that aside from the grateful looks on the timid children's faces aimed at him whenever he stepped in. Except, John also knew that if he didn't stop Katsuki from acting like a complete menace, then he will never learn.

The teachers aren't helping at all either, and Katsuki barely listens to them anyway.

Somehow he only listens to John.

And that is the strangest thing.

Katsuki says he hates him, calls him Deku, among other things, but him choosing to sit with John during class and break time, and walking home with him every day says an entirely different story. One that Katsuki isn't enthusiastic nor willing enough to share, but John has no intention of prying into it.

It's none of his business, and he doesn't concern himself with the childish vitriol aimed at him to ask.

(He still doesn't ask, even when his muted curiosity mixes with his annoyance of having to hear Katsuki be so loud and so full of himself as per usual on their venture home.)

~

They're nine years old when Katsuki had the brightest idea to stand up against 6th graders.

As it happens, they're at a small gaming shop (Katsuki had dragged him there with him earlier in the afternoon for some reason rather than going off with the two other kids he's met) collecting some hero cards—whatever those are— when two older kids came and stole one card from Katsuki, taunting him and giving him a hard shove.

Being the feral child that he is with a hair-trigger temper, he doesn't take that well, so he throws the first Quirk-powered punch while John watches on the sidelines in slight disgruntlement, the two other children spectating with gasps of astonishment rather than running and telling an adult figure.

He resists massaging his temples at Katsuki's war cries against the older kids, knowing this will end how it always does: John keeping the blond from committing death in broad daylight.

At least this time, Katsuki wasn't the one to instigate the brawl. Still, it'll be a problem once Mom's friend sees the scrapes and bruises.

He absently wonders to himself, then, when he had gotten so accustomed to this.

"Take this!"

John witnesses the fox-like 6th grader throw a punch at his friend, but Katsuki is fast enough to dodge it and clip the older kid in the face with a sparking hand and that just about ends the impromptu scuffle, with the blond being the victor.

Great, it's over, they can go home now.

Except they can't.

Because the other older kid comes out to attempt a lucky hit at Katsuki who had mistakenly turned his back (careless) to bathe in praise once again, and John just moves.

He wanted to get this trip over with, go home, and study more about Quirks and the legal system of this superhuman society, not watch another one of Katsuki's free-for-alls against anyone who so much as looked at him the wrong way.

He strides forward with a purpose, ignoring the questioning shouts of the two bystander kids behind him and the questioning look from Katsuki as his past life's knowledge drapes over him like an old coat, worn from age and experience, spurning him on into familiar action. As an experienced killer reborn in a nine-year-old boy's body, he'll do his best not to break any bones.

He makes it to when the taller 6th grader with platinum hair is about to punch Katsuki again and John smoothly and efficiently steps in between them, pushing his friend back a little in the process.

"What the hell, Deku?!"

John doesn't let him finish. He does finish this pointless fight though by catching the incoming hand by the wrist and using it to maneuver the older boy's arm into an uncomfortable position, making him yelp.

He then shoves the boy away, resulting in the latter tilting back from the force and landing on the fox kid still on the ground. He ignores the gasps from behind him, still.

The older boys gaze up at him, stupefied and confused, but they recover quickly enough to attempt another round (kids and their pride, honestly), but John evenly evades their sloppy punches and later has them topple forcefully into each other by making them dizzy and kicking the backs of their knees with a good enough strength. He stares dead set on the older children when they fall on the ground once more.

(Memories dance in the back of his mind of him watching his adoptive brothers spar on the many mats in the many rooms of the Ruska Roma. Victory had always been assured for the most experienced.)

He still stares when they regain their composure. He watches them scowl at him for a moment until they suddenly go pale for some reason, shuffling to their feet and running away, shooting a last-ditch 'We'll be back, you losers!' before finally leaving for good.

It's quiet.

And then, "Hey, what the hell was that, Deku?!"

John calmly turns to find a frowning Katsuki, his fists shaking by his sides. He only gazes evenly at him in response.

"I totally had those jerks! I didn't need your stupid help!" The blond seethes, and John sighs quietly through his nose, feeling quite done with today.

"Sure," he finally says, and that's all he really does say as he turns to approach Katsuki. He pushes the card he had managed to snatch back from the 6th grader culprit against the other boy's chest until he grabs it, and John continues on his way home. "Stay out of trouble."

"Screw you, Deku!"

For what it's worth, at least John is aware he can still defend himself, his mother, and Katsuki when it's needed.

~

Katsuki doesn't thank him for obvious reasons, and that's fine with John. He's never received any verbal thanks from clients, and he definitely didn't get one from Viggo nor Santino, so he doesn't expect Katsuki to express his gratitude.

But then he receives a familiar hero card of All Might in the mail two days later, by an "anonymous sender". He stays silent about it, while Katsuki, for a while, avoids looking at him in the eye at school.

(John keeps the card still in its plastic packaging in his desk drawer, unofficially his first—and last—hero merchandise.)

~

After that debacle, John decides it's best to sign up for self-defense classes.

Not because he believes he's getting rusty (which he kind of is; this is probably the longest he's ever been away from legitimate combat) but he thinks it'll set Mom's mind at ease whenever he goes out alone or with Katsuki.

He's learned of how parents of Quirkless children become from scouring statistics and forums online, and they range from neglectful and abusive, to overprotective and autocratic. His mother is neither of those, but she does worry about him constantly, and John would rather not trouble her any further by being (in her perspective) defenseless.

Plus, this is a sure way to explain his sudden efficiency in hand-to-hand without catching unwanted scrutiny (disclosing the fact that he's a hitman reincarnated as a child would undeniably raise a lot of questions and concerns, especially from possibly every law enforcement there is in this city if they're concerned enough. Or at the very least someone with a Quirk that could confirm it, if there even was such a person).

He manages to convince her to sign him up for self-defense as well as martial arts classes in less than a day, which was a little surprising, but he's thankful he didn't need to use any tactics involving guilt because he finds that he hates being the reason his mother cries.

They're well off enough financially, the payment for both classes is affordable, and the locations are close to their apartment. As it is, there weren't any issues that needed to be resolved.

At least, that's what John thinks before he's cornered by Katsuki at the threshold of their classroom. "Where the f*ck did you learn how to fight?" Not a lot of kids are present in the hallway, so there aren't any witnesses. Well, with Katsuki's apparent reputation in this school, no one would care for his potty mouth.

John swiftly enters the room, not giving the blond an answer.

"Oi! Tell me!"

The pestering and prodding continue well into the day, with John being the unfortunate one to be chastised by the teachers for the "disturbance" (because their favoritism and discrimination prompt them to scold the Quirkless boy instead of the one doing all the disturbance) but he keeps quiet.

Of course, the silence goes short-lived by the end of the day, and Katsuki tries to go for the physical by grabbing John's arm as he was close to the school gates.

He reacts accordingly.

"What?" He says, shortly after grappling the other's wrist and twisting it in a way that doesn't exactly hurt but serves as a warning. He has his fingers positioned over a specific area on the explosive boy's wrist that he's done enough research to know that it makes his little fireworks show hurt to produce.

Katsuki is either resistant to pain or too proud to show it because he clicks his tongue and bites, "You've been f*cking ignoring me, stupid Deku."

"I was."

Katsuki growls, glaring at him intensely. "Care to f*cking explain?"

"No."

"Why the hell not?!"

"I'm busy," because it's true. He's attending his third self-defense class of the month, which lasts about an hour and a half but will soon crank up to three or more once he's older (the same applies to his martial arts training during Saturdays). He'd rather not miss it, especially not because of this.

"Busy?" Katsuki gripes. "With what?"

John lets go and continues on his way, not looking back at the other boy.

"Oi! Where the f*ck are you going, sh*tty Deku?!"

Maybe it's best to just tell him. It's not like Katsuki would want to join his training if he did, right? He's proven time and time again that he's too proud to be mindful of what John does after school, so it should be fine.

"To my self-defense class."

Truly, karma is a dangerous thing.

"Hah?! f*ck you, Deku, I'm going too!"

Just keep walking. Just keep walking.

"I wanna show your dumbass that I'm better than you!"

"Do whatever you want."

He should not have said that, in hindsight, because in the following week, he finds Katsuki being introduced to the rest of the class by their main instructor, Hogo-sensei.

John isn't so affected by the feral grin unlike the other dojo-goers, but perhaps it's due to consistent exposure that he's immune to the unhinged look Katsuki's got going for him when they're beginning to spar each other.

Because they drew lots. And somehow he got the short end of the stick.

That's fine, though. Maybe with this, Katsuki could learn a thing or two about underestimating people. That in itself is always one's fatal mistake on the job.

"You're going down, Deku!"

"It's a self-defense class, Katsuki."

"Shut up!"

The whistle to begin echoes in the dojo.

And John takes down Katsuki easily because the latter always seems to start with a right punch.Careless.

~

The rest of his elementary school experience is as follows.

John receives more verbal attacks than physical ones from his peers, mostly referring to his Quirkless status and how he is actually a weakling who either makes things up for attention or is looking for trouble to gain it. He has a theory as to why, and it starts with two of the children who had seen John efficiently deescalate a bunch of brawls for Katsuki. Kids and rumors certainly go hand in hand.

John receives a bit more detention and reprimands from his teachers over the smallest of mistakes to the nonexistent transgressions and behavioral misconduct which he's positively sure shouldn't happen in an educational setting because it's a lawsuit waiting to happen. (At this rate, he'll have to tell his mother. But he'll need to gather evidence first.)

John receives kindness, however, from the service workers at school, such as the lunch ladies, the security guards, and the maintenance staff. Likely because he treats them with basic human decency compared to most of the other students.

Lastly, Katsuki still hangs out with John. Why he does it remains unknown, and John couldn't be bothered to figure it out. Katsuki can do whatever he wants when friendship is concerned.

Speaking of Katsuki, he attends the same martial arts classes as John now, and it wasn't because of some slip of the tongue. His mother told Katsuki's mother about his martial arts attendance, and Katsuki's mother told Katsuki. It was irritating at first, the blond boy kept challenging the other kids, tried riling up the older ones, even attempted to use his Quirk in the mix (to which was shut downhardby the head instructor of the classes, Kachitsu Izumi).

But John would be lying if he said it wasn't useful. He got to learn more of Katsuki's tells, and his fighting habits, as fresh and careless as they were. In turn, Katsuki gets to learn of John's tells and habits. The breadcrumbs of them, at least. He's always prudent not to be so easily read.

And seemingly, Katsuki has grown to be less abrasive and eager to fight the nearest kid he sees just to assert his self-acclaimed superiority. To add to the list of changes, Katsuki stopped insulting John's entire existence. Well, maybe not entirely, he still refers to him as Deku, but John has gotten accustomed to the nickname at this point to even ask the other boy to change it. Katsuki calls him plenty of jibes, even then, but even John can tell it's to save face.

Children are such an enigma.

~

John and Katsuki are eleven when it happens.

They're on their way back home from buying themselves ice cream (Katsuki's way of treating the winner of the day's sparring match, even though John barely cares for that) when they both get yanked by the back of their shirts into a nearby alley by some faceless assailant.

John quickly thinks of ways to get him and Katsuki out of this situation whilst taking into account the fact that he isn't a fully grown man with decades of experience under his belt, and that his acquaintance is just as ill-prepared for this scenario, regardless of his power and training.

Katsuki flails beside him, the two of them being held up from the ground by the snatcher, who John notes is a man with crocodile scales on the skin of his cheekbones with appropriate crocodile eyes, "Let us go, you bastard!"

The man scoffs. "Shut up, brat."

"I'm gonna kick your ass so hard your sh*t is gonna come outta your mouth!"

"I said shut up!"

John had expected the guy to throw the two of them deeper in the alley, so he braces himself before his body hits the dirty pavement. Katsuki is less graceful in his landing, but it's excusable.

Before the blond could use his Quirk, however, another figure appears, and with a flick of a wrist, something thick and silver shoots out to latch around Katsuki's neck like a glorified collar. He pulls at the foreign object around his neck, shrieking, "What the f*ck is this?!"

He doesn't get an answer.

"You're a feisty one," a soft, sultry voice says and John lands his gaze on the voice's owner, a slender woman with pale skin and paler hair. "I think the market is gonna like you."

"f*ck you, I'm not gonna be any sh*t villain's purchase!"

In times like this, John is at least a little grateful for his neighbor's unshakeable spirit.

"Tch. We don't have time for this," he hears the man click his tongue, and then, "Shiromiya, get rid of the Quirkless brat. I got the blondie."

The words seem to spark Katsuki into rage-fueled defiance, screaming his head off about manslaughter and graves, but John thinks first. One of the only effective plans he can concoct at this moment is to avoid getting caught by the pale woman, snatch the other boy by the wrist, hit the man where it hurts the most, and escape, but that's easier said than done when you're eleven and have the physical prowess of one.

Unfortunately, he doesn't make it two steps towards Katsuki when the woman has caught John by the arm and is dragging him farther away, subsequently pulling him over and onto the ground with a lot of force, the air getting knocked out of him.

He hasn't felt this kind of pain in a while, especially not this distinctly. Maybe high pain tolerance doesn't transfer over. Pity.

"Get your f*cking hands off him!" He hears Katsuki yell and later grunts angrily. From the sounds of it, he's struggling against the pale woman's partner too.

"Shut the f*ck up or I'll make you!"

More sounds of Katsuki likely kicking the guy, more struggling, more scuffling. John can't see what's happening, what the man is doing to his friend, because now he feels spindly, cold hands wrapping around his small neck and reflexively tries to escape it (go for the eyes, bend their wrists, crack their elbow joints), but small muscles and smaller hands can only do so much.

Distantly, he hears more of Katsuki's angered shouts and it's a wonder how nobody heard them yet. Must be a Quirk.

The woman above him, choking him, addresses him, "Sorry about this, kid. It's nothing personal."

Somewhere in his mind, John laughs silently, bitterly. It's always been like that, hasn't it?

Nothing personal. Just doing the job.

Well. It's safe to say he's gonna do the same.

John notices a broken beer bottle beside him under the cover of the lone dumpster, and he doesn't even have to think about it.

All he thinks of is protecting Katsuki, save him from being dragged into something dark, and his new body does what his old one was used to for years.

The pale woman is still choking him, but that doesn't matter. He subtly inches his hand closer until his fingers reach the cool glass, and he picks it up in a tight, purposeful grip. His mind quiets into a familiar thrum, muting Katsuki's screams for the woman to let him go.

The scaled man's partner has yet to notice, and that's all the time he needs as he swiftly slices the broken bottle's sharp edges deep against her abdomen, eliciting her to gasp and let go of his neck, moving to stop the bleeding.

He doesn't stop there. He rises from the ground and lets himself take a moment to collect himself before he uses the bottle again to launch it against her head, causing it to shatter upon impact and effectively knocking her out.

"You little sh*t!"

The reptilesque man is angry now, but it doesn't make a difference. Katsuki is free which makes his job easier. John picks up a large piece of the shattered glass bottle from the ground, and he uses the momentum of the man rushing towards him to slide under him through the gap between his legs, cutting the inside of the man's upper thigh, close to the groin, leaving the shard to where it's stuck in the flesh.

The man crumples to his knee, but it's not enough to get him to stay down, John knows that much. So he does the next best thing and snatches Katsuki's arm and bolts, dragging the other boy with him out of the alley where surely an officer or a Pro Hero would come by.

Too bad for John, though. It's almost a given how his luck isn't that good when it comes to reprieve.

Turns out the two perps have another friend, one with a convenient fishing hook Quirk, stationed on one of the fire escapes, but John is fast enough to shove Katsuki further away from the line of fire, urging him, "Get someone."

"The hell, Deku?!"

Katsuki hesitates, but John wouldn't let him stop now, not when he's clearly powerless thanks to the silver collar on his neck.

"Katsuki, go."

He can only hope that the blond does what he's told and find help because they both know that two eleven-year-olds aren't enough to knock out three adult crooks, regardless of their self-defense and martial arts training and Katsuki's Quirk. At least with John, he knows what to do, his physical aptitude notwithstanding.

Just as abruptly, John gets wrenched back to the alley by the waist of his pants, with Katsuki shouting after him. God, does he wish for him to follow orders now instead of being an idiot and coming back for him. That's a problem John would like to avoid.

In his hubris, the fishing hook guy drops down from the fire escape with a triumphant cackle, his hand jutted out with the fishing line disappearing in the skin of his palm with remarkable speed.

"Gotcha, ya slick bastard!" The third guy says, assured of his capture rather than Katsuki's, but it's frail and unsure at best. Must not be good at winging things, then.

Unfortunately for the third guy, John is damn good at improvising.

Immediately, John clamps his hands on the fishing line and jumps, using the momentum of the line to pull himself at the third villain like an incoming bullet, startling the man. He manages to aim a hard kick to the throat before he manually unlatches the hook from his waist belt and loops the remaining fishing line around the guy's neck and choking him, utilizing his center of gravity to get the villain on his knees.

Don't give them a chance to recover, the Director and his trainers always said. Go for the kill.

But he doesn't. It's a close thing, succumbing to the familiar motions of breaking necks to eliminate targets and enemies faster, but John holds himself back from committing a crime that he's unquestionably sure won't be received well by this world's law enforcement. Even if the crime was made on a criminal. John would rather not risk it.

The third accomplice tries to claw his face in his struggle for air, but John quickly loops the remaining fishing line around the wrists, successfully trapping the hands. And if he tightens the thin cord around the man's throat just a tad, that's for only John to know.

"You f*cking brat, I'm gonna skin you for this!"

Ah, the reptile man. He must have recovered.

"Careful, Waniguchi, he's a smart one. For a Quirkless kid."

The pale woman is conscious as well, her face bloody and undeniably angry. That's fine. Anger, after all, can steer you blind if you don't know how to control it. (He's been there before.)

He holds his grip for a few more seconds, waiting for the third villain to fall unconscious, and when he does, John waits for another moment just to be sure before he leaves him slumped on the ground. He doesn't spare a glance at the immobile villain, too aware of the other threats ahead of him.

"You're really gonna pay for that, you little sh*t," the reptile guy hisses, obviously favoring his unwounded leg.

"There's nobody here who's gonna save you, brat," the pale woman jeers as if she is speaking the truth.

In a way, she is. John is on his own here for the moment. Marcus isn't gonna snipe them down for him to take advantage of it. The Bowery King isn't here with his gaggle of stool pigeons to sneak him out. Sofia isn't here with her dogs. It's just him.

But that changes nothing. He's been in trickier situations than this.

With his mind made up, John loops the fishing line loosely around his left arm shortly after severing it with his teeth. He picks up the fallen quarter staff the fish hook villain carelessly dropped and grips it tight, his memories of weapons training flittering back to his bones.

He stares straight ahead at the remaining two, calm and collected, and concocting numerous possible ways to end this.

He breathes in. Out.

And he moves.

~

In all his years of working as a police officer and eventually a detective, Tsukauchi Naomasa has never come to a scene so... Unusual, for a lack of a better word to describe this.

Because leaning against one wall of the alley is the friend the boy (Bakugou Katsuki, his memory supplies him) told him was in trouble, a little worse for wear judging from the scrapes and grime on his person, but the only one actually standing amongst the other three adults—villains—sprawled unconscious on the ground.

(One half of Naomasa is blue-screening over this while the other half is weirdly impressed. But that's a conversation to have with himself for another night with a cup of coffee.)

It was honestly pure luck that he and Sansa were in the area to pick up some donuts when Bakugou came rushing up to them, wild and panicked with a freaking Quirk-suppressing collar around his neck. "My friend's in trouble, some villains are gonna hurt him, go help him!"

Naomasa hadn't questioned him, primarily because his Quirk caught the frenzied declaration as true, and he asks the kid to point him and Sansa in the right direction. Bakugou didn't leave when asked; no, he bolted to where his friend was, and all Naomasa and Sansa could do was follow, not before radioing some officers for backup.

And that brings them back to this scene.

"Deku!" Bakugou shrieks as he runs towards the other boy, ignoring Sansa's call for him to wait.

"Katsuki," the boy—Deku, apparently—sighs, and Naomasa can tell that he doesn't look as scared and hysterical as he had expected. No, he looks...well, unbothered, to put it simply.

The kid does end up looking bothered when Bakugou grips his shoulders and shakes him back and forth with a frenzied, "Deku, you idiot, are you crazy?!" which has him holding back a pained wince. Well, that's not good.

"You alright, kid?" Naomasa asks, approaching the two children while he lets Sansa cuff the knocked-out three.

Deku's eyes move away from Bakugou and land on Naomasa in a calculative stare, like he's inspecting him for something, dissecting him in a way that reminds the detective of a particular underground hero. He mentally laughs a little at the comparison. Eventually, the boy does answer, "Yeah."

Truth, his Quirk rings, but it's shaky, like that of a wind chime in a summer breeze. He doesn't voice his findings, however. His gut tells him not to poke the proverbial bear cub, which, in this case, is Deku.

"Well, we've already called in an ambulance, so we might as well get those injuries of yours looked at," Naomasa says kindly, offering him a grin which he hopes comes out as friendly and gives the boy a reason to trust him. It does, thankfully, when the kid slowly nods and begins walking out the alley with Bakugou by his side.

(Naomasa takes note of how Deku is limping a little and holding his torso with one arm as if he had a bruised rib but doesn't comment on it until it's checked out by the paramedics.)

The next few moments pass by in relative ease, with the police taking away the three villains (who turned out to be the ones responsible for the recent kidnappings in the area) and Deku (whose name turned out to be Midoriya Izuku, and that Deku is just a nickname) getting looked at by the EMTs. Sansa took the initiative to contact Midoriya's mother along with Bakugou's, so all that's left to do is collect a statement from the boys and wait for their guardians.

Although, during the short interview, Midoriya had seemed strangely calm, unlike how children being close to kidnapped would usually be. Of course, he's not judging him harshly or anything, people cope with stressful situations in their own ways. Still, the composure Midoriya held was almost perplexing. He tells himself not to overthink it.

(Eventually, the kids' mothers arrive with Midoriya's mother doing most of the crying as she hugs her son tightly, the latter now appearing expectedly disgruntled by the smothering.)

Later at the station, he interrogates the three villains, thankful that they now have a new lead to the kidnapping cases. However, the beginning of it was, as it happens, bizarre.

"That- that Quirkless kid," the crocodile man, Waniguchi Isao, stutters, his face noticeably decorated with dark bruises and scrapes with his left eye swollen closed. "That kid is a f*cking monster."

"Care to elaborate?" Naomasa clicks his pen.

The pale woman, Shiromiya Kasumi, hisses through her split lip, "The Quirkless brat...he didn't- didn't give us a chance to, to, to even knock him out. Too fast."

"He used my Quirk against us," the third assailant, Tsuribari Taki, adds, his voice hoarse and whispy from the fishing line used to choke him into unconsciousness. "More than that, he...he beat the sh*t out of us with nothing but the garbage and my staff. That kid is- he outsmarted all three of us."

Truth.

To say Naomasa is as confused as he is stunned would be an understatement. While he has seen the aftermath (seriously, how did the kid even handle three adults like that?) he hasn't seen how it went down. However, as much as he is curious, he has more important matters to finish. He'll come back to the Midoriya Mystery some other time.

(And boy, did he get to come back months and months later.)

Chapter 4: i think, therefore i am

Chapter Text

When John gets snatched again, it had been two months since his first almost-kidnapping with Katsuki. Only this time, he's by himself. And he gets shoved in the back of a typical black van with two individuals as his van mates who later lock a familiar collar around his neck and tie his wrists with rope behind him. (Their first mistake was tying his wrists so shoddily along with the sleeves of his jacket, easy to slip free, easy to hide a sharp weapon.)

This situation would've terrified any normal child, but John isn't normal. He was caught off guard, sure, but he doesn't sob his heart out nor scream in faux bravery at the masked men who took him.

("You can either hand over your son, or you can die screaming alongside him!" John had roared at Viggo, bound only by rope.)

No, that would be a waste of time.

Instead, John watches discreetly, silently, appearing docile, and harmless. He has to be careful here. Wait for the right moment. See what they want with him. If this is a random kidnapping, well; he can work with that. If it isn't, then he'll have to be a bit more creative in his escape.

"You sure this kid's got a Quirk?" One of the kidnappers (average height, male, lanky, olive skin, black eyes and sclera, tree roots for hair) asks. "'Cause if he doesn't, that's gonna be a problem for Sasori."

Well. It seems this Sasori is gonna have a problem.

"I'm sure, man," the other kidnapper (tall, male, sturdy build, warthog mutation) nods. "I've seen the kid, like, spit this green acid thing the other day. Definitely him."

It's a fortunate thing they caught the wrong kid, then. No doubt the boy they mentioned would've been subjected to a dire fate if he was in John's shoes. As it stands, John is capable enough to get out of this situation, mainly due to the incompetency of these men and their kidnapping scheme.

He waits, and waits, and waits, (tuning out the banter between all the kidnappers present—three in total as he meticulously designs a plan in his head for him, and perhaps potential others, to use to leave) until the van pulls to a stop. He's forcibly removed from the vehicle by the warthog man and ahead of him stands a dilapidated one-story house, the windows boarded, and the edges and surfaces of the structure covered in moss and faded graffiti.

Well, at least it isn't some unoccupied warehouse. That would surely bring back unwanted memories.

(A plastic bag over his head, struggling, anger, revenge, a gunshot, freedom, Marcus? )

"Come on," the third abductor who had been driving (short, rock mutation on most of the skin except around the eyes and joints, and scalp) grunts with a wave of a hand, and all four of them enter with John keeping note of the scattered junk across the front area.

The place is musty and smells like a fish market doused in expired paint, with broken glass, some bricks, and worn furniture strewn around (some of the broken furniture pieces look sturdy enough to use as potential weapons). John subtly scans the room for any exits before his eyes are drawn to the fifth person in the room, sitting on a worn velvet armchair, looking like a poor excuse of a mob boss.

(Average height, no visible mutation, scorpion-themed tattoos on the neck area, white hair, matching beard, baggy and threadbare two-piece suit with a long tie unlaced around his neck—John can use that.)

"Sasori," Warthog starts, manhandling John into stepping forward. "We got the kid." So this man is Sasori. John will admit, he almost resembles Viggo with the suit and the hair, and the waft of cheap cologne. Almost.

"Thank you, Inoshi," Sasori drawls. "Bring him here."

Warthog—Inoshi—does, with a bit of harshness as he pushes John into the flimsy wooden chair across from the suited man. John eyes the old man before him, and if he didn't know any better, he would've pegged him to be the weakest among the four. But the lesson of never underestimating people comes forth, unbidden, and John prepares himself for anything that will come.

Needless to say, he gets the usual monologue of their intentions (trafficking children with chemical-based Quirks, Sasori said. He stores that info for later), and John has half a mind to ignore most of it in favor of thinking how he can escape, find any captured children, and call the police.

His attention is brought back when the three henchmen come into view, each holding a child by their shoulders so they wouldn't escape. Meanwhile, Sasori stands and approaches John in a slow, prowling manner, attempting to be as terrifying as possible but only serves to make him look pathetic.

John readies himself, a plan already formed.

"So, be a good boy and do as I say," Sasori says, leaning forward to possibly pat his cheek, but John acts first, delivering a firm kick to the man's groin and later blacking him out with a good knee to his face when he keeled over. This triggers the three henchmen to come after John, to which he smoothly evades any form of attack or chokehold. He does end up having to hit them where it hurts most as well as critical weak points, subsequently freeing his hands from the terrible restraints and pulling his entire jacket off without delay, leaving him in his shirt and with a makeshift weapon.

The scuffle goes on for a good while, with John sweeping feet with his jacket, tripping one of them over with well-timed kicks, and distracting them using the various broken objects in the vicinity until one of the kids (young girl, red hair, dark skin) shoots some transparent solution at Inoshi's feet, making him slip and fall on his head, successfully knocking him out. Now, there are two crooks left, which, admittedly, was easier to deal with.

Somewhere in the fight, John sneakily picks up a brick and a sizable table leg. He swings the table leg against the root-haired man's shin, followed immediately by a decent impact to his temple.

John doesn't even hesitate to throw the brick point-blank at the face of the last guy standing. (Apparently, the rock skin is as soft as any ordinary skin.)

As soon as the rock man falls unconscious with a resounding thunk, John swiftly goes over to Sasori, who he notices is beginning to stir but sends him back to sleep with a hard kick to his face, uses the loose necktie to bind his hands, and pats him for a cellphone.

Shortly after finding it in the man's pocket, he quickly dials the police (it's funny. Usually, it's concerned neighbors and civilians uninvolved with the High Table calling the police for a "noise complaint" or something or other. For a moment, he wonders if there's a Jimmy in this life too). He then ushers the other children out the door, leading them to a secluded spot within the forest behind the house. Far enough from the passed-out abductors, but near enough for the police to find them.

"Musutafu Police Department, what's your emergency?" Hm. Why does that voice sound familiar?

"My name's Midoriya Izuku," he begins. "I and other kids have been kidnapped. Can you send help?" Okay, not the best way to ask for help, but...

"...Wait, you're—?"

"Yeah," John cuts him off. He wouldn't describe himself as antsy, but given that the kidnappers and their boss will be up any second because he doesn't trust that they'll stay down for much longer, he can't allow himself to relax. Especially when three other (younger, too young) children are looking to him to save them. "I was on my way home when some guy grabbed me and drove me somewhere in a black van."

What else should he add? "I'm using one of the kidnappers' phones. Can you trace it? I don't know where we are." He hopes his tone doesn't become their downfall. He'd like to sound like any panicked civilian just to give the police more reason to search for them, but he just can't seem to find the energy to do so.

There's a brief moment in the call where it sounds like the phone is being passed to someone until John hears another familiar voice.

"Midoriya? Hello, this is Detective Tsukauchi." Oh, that detective guy from before. "My Quirk lets me know if you're telling the truth or not, so if you can, could you describe your situation?"

"I've been kidnapped along with three other kids. I don't know where we are," he repeats, his voice still as leveled and composed. The children with him seem to have taken to his composure as they huddle close to one another, not breaking down in loud tears or screaming towards the heavens.(So small. You've been small too, right, John?)

He hears a bunch of distant yelling on the other side of the phone until, "Don't worry, Midoriya, my partner's already tracing the call, so sit tight and stay safe. Stay on the phone, alright?"

"Yeah."

Eventually, the police arrive just in the nick of time. They detain the kidnappers, and the three children are safe in one of the cruisers, with John, now free of the collar, being the one to tell the detective the specific details. Judging from the look on the man's face as he chances a side glance at Sasori being transported to the police van, those guys won't be out on the streets for a long while.

~

BREAKING NEWS

A Quirk and child-trafficking gang, Scorpion Cross, has been found and arrested shortly after the recent kidnapping of an eleven-year-old boy (whose name shall be redacted for privacy) on September 15th in the afternoon. Police reports say that it was the eleven-year-old who defended himself and three other children who have also been reported as kidnapped by the same gang and managed to get one of the abductors' phones to call the police.

More information on...

~

John is twelve when he experiences a robbery. And it just so happens to be in his favorite corner store on a Sunday.

"Give me the f*cking cash, lady!"

John carefully inches his way to the end of the chips aisle near the counter, keeping close to it and out of the robber's sight. The guy is currently busy trying to mug the old lady who runs the store, Granny Amai, with a gun that looks like it came from a toy store to notice him.

Now, he isn't all that worried. As old and naturally sweet as she is, Granny Amai is as tough as they come, never taking any nonsense from anyone. Plus, she's Quirkless. And the Quirkless population is known to stick together, especially in times of crisis. As of right now, it's a time of crisis, and John, at the moment, is available to stop it.

"I said, give me the cash, old hag, or you're gonna regret it!" The robber screeches but Granny Amai remains unruffled, eyeing the man with an intensity that only grandmothers possess.

John decides to use the other route, utilizing the same, familiar tactic of taking out the target from behind. (Stick to the shadows, break their necks, stop them from screaming, get the car, get Helen's letter—)

He creeps closer to the robber who is still shrieking his lungs out for the money Granny Amai wouldn't give. He quietly picks up a store umbrella from its stand, tightening his hold on it. (Blunt force trauma, knock them out quick, no hesitation, Jardani—)

He's behind the robber now, and he strikes, like a snake to its unsuspecting prey.

The fake gun clatters on the tiled floor after John swats the closed umbrella on the man's gun arm, then his head, disorienting him. He follows it with a quick leg sweep that puts the robber on the ground on his stomach and a subsequent wristlock.

(Break his arm, break him, Jardani, break him now, John—)

"Ah, thank you, dearie," Granny Amai says with her usual grin. Soft and sweet, not sharp and bitter.

John simply nods.

"I've called the police, they'll be here soon," she informs him.

And they did. And again, the detective and his police partner with the cat features come into the scene.

The recognition is already evident on the detective's face (recognition works in different ways. You can either run from it, bask in it, learn from it, or simply stop it from building up. John chose to run because being recognized would mean his end) as he approaches John, a small notepad in hand. "Didn't think I'd see you again, Midoriya," detective Tsukauchi says, not unkindly.

John nods again, not releasing his hold on the mugger until the detective asks him to.

As soon as the cat officer cuffs the assailant, detective Tsukauchi turns to John and addresses, "While normally, I would take you in due to Vigilante laws—" John has memorized such laws in his seventh year of living, and frankly, he finds it a little ridiculous that a person with a Quirk can't use their powers for self-defense of themselves and others without getting arrested. "—you being Quirkless doesn't apply, so I'm just gonna ask you some questions if that's alright?"

John bobs his head once more, answering the detective's questions as best and simple as he can because he does have things to do, such as touching up his analysis-writing that he started the moment he was able to write properly. He didn't do such things back then, mostly keeping his analysis and information gathering in his mental notebook, but he figured writing the things he's discovered about his new life on a physical one would help him navigate it more coherently.

(And who knows. It could help him get out of more untimely situations much easier.)

After everything is settled with the robber being transported to the police station and John finally paying for his meat buns, he leaves the store, nodding at Granny Amai waving at him, and ignoring the wide-eyed stare from the other customer in the store.

~

Gucci Eye Bags™ @catsupremacy ∙ 18h

holy sh*t to that one kid for knocking the spirit out of the robber who tried to mug the sweet old lady @ my fave corner store w an umbrella in under 5 seconds, ur my hero

[Attached Link URL:Local corner store owner gets held up at gunpoint but is saved by an unlikely hero]

45 Comments 11.3k Retweets 18.9k Likes

kouchan12@_kouchyann12 ∙ 45m
Replying to@catsupremacy

OMG U SAW IT TOO??

stream EVE@discountkirby ∙ 33m
Replying to@catsupremacy

YO I THOUGHT I WAS SEEING sh*t BUT 12YRO LOOKIN KID JUST FOLDED THAT MAN LIKE A LAWNCHAIR WITHOUT EVEN TRYING

dr delicate punch@yellowfellow ∙ 33m
Replying to@catsupremacy

rt umbrella boi for goodluck

~

"Hey," John calls, grabbing for the attention of the gangly teenage boy who is currently harassing another kid (bunny mutation, white fur, blue eyes, taller than him by an inch), trapping her against the wall of the alley with a pocket knife threateningly close to her neck.

He knows he's running late for one of Katsuki's many All Might movie marathons, and he knows he's going to get a lot of grief for it, but being the blond's safeguard from a lifetime of legal disputes for a good portion of his younger years has set off John's instinct to step in between the aggressor and his victim.

"Mind your own f*cking business, shrimpy," the teen (lean, taller by a few inches, no visible mutation, shaved head) snarls but John doesn't heed it.

His training before and now varied in intensity as well as application on the field. While he could make it so the teenager is incapable of escaping the police (which John called beforehand because he remembers that he isn't a prolific assassin dealing with things on his own and without the authorities batting an eye to it), he has to play the part of a concerned civilian who could defend himself and others. It certainly would lower the risk of Mom getting a heart attack and Katsuki yelling at him for getting into trouble again.

"Leave her alone and I will," he says, placing the tote bag holding the groceries on the ground a few inches away from his feet. The girl seems a little bit calmer now, but John knows she isn't safe yet.

"Oh, you wanna f*cking fight, then? You wanna go?"

He doesn't, but he's been in close contact with Katsuki to know that he doesn't have as much of a choice as he wanted when demanded to fight. He just sighs, and that's enough to set off the teen's temper as he's quick to shift the knife from the girl's neck to John's, holding the blade intimidatingly near the skin while also gripping John's shoulder.

He expected as much. John raises his hands in mock surrender (catch them off their guard, strike fast, don't pull back your blade too soon) before he instantly throws a palm-heel strike against the other boy's chin, then, like clockwork, moves to twist the hand holding the knife in one of the disarming techniques the Ruska Roma drilled into him until he got it perfectly.(The Director sought perfection, after all.)

"Ack—! What the f*ck?!" The teen tries to struggle free, but John thoroughly makes sure he doesn't as he knees the contorted arm at an uncomfortable angle, removing the pocket knife and throwing it away.

John shortly looks up at the girl, finding no other injuries. "The police are on their way."

He sees the relief flood through her as she breathes out, "Th-Thank you so much!"

John nods.

And then, he feels his phone buzzing in his pocket, and he knowsKatsuki is going to be extra noisy and tiresome, so, after releasing the arm for a split second, and letting the delinquent get up on his hands and knees, he picks up his grocery bag full of hefty items and delivers a mean swing on the head which he hopes keeps the teen down long enough for the cops to arrive and detain him. Luckily, he hears the sirens closing in.

"I'm running late for something," John tells the girl. "Are you okay waiting here and telling them what happened?"

"Oh! Uh, y-yeah, sure!"

With one last nod, John adjusts his grip on the groceries and leaves.

That is, until the girl calls for him, "Wait! I didn't catch your name!"

"Midoriya," is all he says before walking further away, because now his phone is ringing in that weird All Might laughter Katsuki put as his ringtone for some reason, and he can't be bothered to interact with more people at the moment, especially the police. He's almost certain the detective and his cat partner are tired of meeting him again.

~

"And could you describe the person who came to help?" Sansa asks as an afterthought even though he has a suspicion of who it is.

The girl, who introduced herself as Aihara Kikyo, replies with the enthusiasm of any star-struck kid who has witnessed a hero coming to rescue them, "Oh, he has, uh, he has green hair? Yeah, green hair and he's, like- he looks younger than me but when you look at him you can mistake him for a teen or something because he acted so mature—oh! He also has green eyes and freckles! I don't know his Quirk, though. But it was so cool how he knocked out the bastard with his grocery bag!"

Ah.

Oh ho ho, Tsukauchi isreallygonna love this.The kid's seriously gaining some reputation around here.

"Did you catch his name by any chance?"

Aihara looks thoughtful for a brief moment before she snaps her fingers, and, "Oh yeah! He said his name is Mido something. Midorima? Ah, no,Midoriya,yeah, his name's Midoriya, sir."

...Sansa is feeling twelve thousand yen richer now.

~

The first time John hears about a clinic specifically for the Quirkless (because apparently some hospitals in the city can refuse medical treatment for the Quirkless) is when he stops three delinquent middle schoolers from further assaulting a boy close to his age, if but a year younger.

"Where's this clinic?" John asks when the boy with dark, messy hair tells him to take him there in a wheeze.

In his previous life, John had his fair share of crossing multiple thresholds of hospitals and clinics made to heal people like him. They were out of sight while at the same time out in the open if you know where to look. Though in later years, he decided to stick to private, hidden clinics, despite its doctors following the High Table's code.

("Sorry, Mr. Wick," the doctor told him morosely as the clock struck the hour of his reckoning. John simply stared at the man without bitterness nor ill will because—

"Rules..."

"Are rules.")

"In the..." The boy croaks before coming into a coughing fit, later spitting out sputum of blood on the sidewalk. "In the back alley... Ando street... Behind Sakane's bookstore."

They make it there when the sky turns into a splash of oranges, reds, yellows, and pinks, the sun casting sharp shadows from the buildings onto the streets. ("Stick to the shadows when you can, Jardani, because the light cannot help you out there.")

Deeper into the aforementioned back alley, he finds an unsuspecting metal door, thoroughly concealed by the darkness and the clotheslines up above, the only source of light being the lone neon blue lights lining the doorframe. "We're here," the injured boy mumbles before reaching out to knock four times on the door. Soon after, a tall elderly woman answers with a brisk, "Get in."

The clinic is what John imagines it to look like; clean yet homey for those who seek comfort in a society such as theirs. There are cabinets stocked with medicine and first aid equipment among other things, and there are some worn but plush chairs lining the walls. It still smells like any other hospital due to the antiseptic, but it has this lavender scent as well. If anything else, the clinic seems to have been a storage area to some other business once. But John won't comment on it; it's not his place to do so.

"You can set him here," the old woman tells him shortly, brushing past John and entering one of the only doors in the room that must lead to the patient beds.

After carefully helping the boy to one of the vacant beds, John supposes that he's no longer needed. The nurses and doctors here can patch the kid up—

"What's your name, boy?"

John glances at the elderly lady searching through a cabinet and, after a brief moment, answers, "Midoriya Izuku."

"Well, Midoriya Izuku, can I ask for your cooperation and not say a word about this clinic?" The way she says it almost sounds like a threat but John is aware of the difference between that and a desperate request. In any case, he has no intention of disclosing this clinic to anybody. It's not any of his business, after all.

So he nods. "Yeah."

"Good. You may leave."

He was going to, but it's a rule for the universe to follow that John Wick—now Midoriya Izuku—should not have an easy time if they could help it.

Just as soon as he passes the threshold out the patient room, the entrance door gets slammed open with a resounding bang, and three very familiar figures enter the clinic, each holding a weapon (a crowbar, a baseball bat, and a rusty pipe).

"Oi! Quirkless squicks! Don't think you've seen the last of us!" The middle schooler in between the other two announces with egotistical flair despite the obvious black eye he's sporting.

"Yeah, we've got a bone to pick with ya, squicks!"

"You better say your prayers!"

John doesn't need to say anything, though. What he does do is pick up a nearby stool, stare evenly at the trio, and let them come to him on their own foolish hubris. And they do, and it's a flurry of clumsy, uncoordinated, telegraphed attacks, paired with their lacking spatial awareness. It's simple enough for him to use the stool to disarm them and subsequently knocking them on their backs, ending the short-lived fight before the old woman could call for help.

"Don't come back here again," he soon bids them, aiming a cold look at the three middle schoolers because he means it.This is a safe space, a neutral zone where you are to not conduct any business until you leave. In his past life, it's a rule that everyone respects and follows dutifully to a fault (until Perkins, and then much, much later, John himself) and he wants nothing more than to instill that kind of regard in these boys so they can leave the clinic alone.

There are barely enough safe spaces for people like him these days, after all.

~

Igaku Koeda doesn't see kids like Midoriya Izuku very often, but she did get a kick out of witnessing the kid owning those prejudiced little imps for disrespecting her clinic (as illegal as it was in the eyes of the Quirk-worshipping law). But alas, sometimes you can't let the children do everything by themselves.

So she sends a text to one of her heroes, specifically one who she tolerates the mostout of every other hero who comes by to drop off an injured person-without-a-power like her out of the goodness of their heart or whatever.

"Is...Is Midoriya-senpai okay out there?"

Koeda glances at her current patient—Akatani Mikumo, he told her earlier—and shrugs. She isn't that worried, not after what she saw.

"He's fine. Knocked those little scamps to next Sunday, easy."

She's grateful for it, really. At least she doesn't have to take out her custom-made taser. She dislikes brats who come into her special clinic thinking they're all that, but she'd like to avoid any physical damage if she could help it. (Plus, she is, above all else, adoctor,and she's morally bound not to curb stomp narrow-minded children with her special boots.)

Eventually, she leaves the treatment room to stand a bit behind Midoriya, who is currently staring down the three brats into silence while still holding her f*cking stool. Impressive. "Thanks for dealing with them, kid. I've already called a hero to take them, they'll arrive shortly."

The kid simply nods.

When Midoriya does end up needing to leave, Koeda raises a hand to extend an offer, because really, it's the least she could do, "You're always welcome to stop by in case those stuck-up docs refuse to even bother with you. You know where to go."

Midoriya gazes at her with this look she doesn't really recognize before he nods again.

"...Thanks, doc."

"Eh, don't mention it. Now scram, I've got a patient to tend to."

He does, and shortly thereafter, a friendly, tired face arrives, and it looks like he aged ten years upon seeing the three middle schoolers scared sh*tless on her tiled floor.

"Before you ask, these three came into my clinic thinking they're hot sh*t and wanted to commit a felony against my patient and another kid, but the same kid decided to slap the sh*t out of them with a chair before they could try to wreck anything."

Poor guy continues to age ten more years before her eyes until he sighs like he just saw something so devastating but was too tired to react beyond anything else.

"...Is the kid still even here?"

"Nah. He left before you got here."

"Ah."

~

At this point, John is beginning to think he has some latent trouble-attracting power that the doctor missed during his examination when he was four because, in recent weeks, he's been getting pulled into fights that he never wanted to be in, much less interested in, by confrontational people who want to "challenge" him for whatever reason.

Of course, there's also him stopping shady people from harassing bystanders, but it's more out of habit than anything else, and it's something he was willing to do.

(It's not thishero instinct Katsuki keeps raving about. John is anything buta hero. Sure, he saved that one dog from getting put down, but the blood he spilled would never come off his skin, no matter how much he tries washing it away.)

("You are a weapon, Jardani. The best one there is. You are raised to be one. Don't disappoint.")

Nevertheless, he fights back when he has to.

However, he barely manages to hold himself back from inflicting dangerous injuries because he has to remind himself that he isn't existing as an experienced hitman, but as an ordinary boy in a superhuman society. He can't go back to that kind of life here. He refuses.

Eventually, he tells Katsuki about this little phenomenon—mostly because the blond kept pestering him for answers—and all John got from that was the other boy putting up a tally system for how many scuffles John unintentionally gets involved in. It's ridiculous, really, but whatever makes Katsuki happy-ish.

Soon enough, though, the fights he gets dragged into by assertive kids his age and older happen a little less frequently, primarily due to John's memorization of the routes he takes most often and his capability in evading people efficiently.

Now, he only ever involves himself in hindering thugs and dubious folk alike from executing crimes and injuring other people in the shadows of alleyways, silent and out of sight, just as he always did before.

He might not be forgiven—or even forgive himself—of the bodies he buried in his career, but somewhere in the back of his mind, he thinks Helen would be proud of him for using the skills he cultivated just for this.

(And if he paid enough attention or was interested enough, he might've heard the beginnings of a rumor with him in it. But, as it always is with everything else, John doesn't care.)

~

Although Tsukauchi Naomasa is someone who rarely dips his toes in underground chatter for self-preservation's sake, he does get to hear stories and legends being passed around here and there. Some of them are helpful, while others are just flimsy speculations and theories, but Naomasa appreciates any information given, regardless if they're legit or just plain rumors.

In this particular instance, though, he wants to drink his third cup of coffee dry, because what the hell.

Midoriya Izuku, a frequent figure in multiple arrests for the past year, is now being dubbed by most of the underground circuit—specifically villains—as theViridian Devil of Musutafu.

According to the rumors circulating in the underground and the criminal underbelly of Musutafu, the Viridian Devil is someone you don'tmess with at all, point-blank. Though he is small, he is agile on his feet; though he looks weak, he can overpower even the biggest of crooks with just the environment and his terrifying smarts.

("I saw him knock out a thug with atrash can lid,Tsukauchi," Sansa said to him one day. "It was the weirdest, most effective thing I've ever seen.")

What's frightening for the people who spread these rumors, in that respect, is that the Viridian Devil only ever appears in the shadows, and when there's trouble. He doesn't come to gang-related fights or anything akin to them, however.

When a child is about to be abducted, the Viridian Devil is there. When someone is getting mugged, he's there. When someone who can't fight back is about to be ruthlessly maimed, he's there in a heartbeat, and he does it in absolutesilence.

And he only ever shows up when a hero isn't there to help.

Naomasa knows this because a few underground heroes who come by to the station told him as much. While he could bring Midoriya in and ask him whyhe keeps doing it (he will, he most undoubtedly will because come on the kid is- what, almost thirteen? It's a wonder how his mother never found out about this), but at this point, he's too exhausted to try. He'll take him in for further questioning—if he sticks around long enough—without charges, and that's it.

As Naomasa informed him the third time he's met him (beating a robber with an umbrella, what a kid), Midoriya's not technically breaking any laws about vigilantism. If anything, he's part of the ones who aren't affected by it at all,so he can freely intervene in any trouble so long as he continues to call the police.

Still, when all is said and done...

What the f*ck is Naomasa's life.

(Somewhere in a certain high school, a very exhausted teacher feels a strange compulsion to pat a detective on the back in solidarity.)

Chapter 5: the die is cast

Chapter Text

John first hears about UA when he's in a certain detective's office for the tenth time of the year for unintentionally helping in taking down a rising band of drug sellers early this morning. Katsuki will undoubtedly give him a hard time for this, but it'll be a problem for another time.

"Okay, I think that wraps it up. Thanks for today, Midoriya." The detective, Tsukauchi, caps his pen and directs a small smile at him, as tired as it appears, but John won't call him out on it.

He simply nods.

Before he can finish his cup of mocha and leave the detective's office, the man starts casually, "You're in your last year of junior high, right?"

A strange thing to ask suddenly, but he had weirder questions asked to him. "Yeah."

"Have you thought about what high school you're thinking of enrolling in?"

In the beginning, John didn't think much of it. Actually, he didn't consider much of his future at all, too busy trying to adapt to this superhuman society for 14 years while simultaneously keeping the rotten, poisonous tendrils of his past life from infecting his new one.

He hardly thought of what he even wanted to do when he grew older. Back then, his only purpose was to be a weapon. A vicious killer with a mountain of bodies entombed under his feet. There was no other future left for him but death.

(But Helen changed that, he had a future with her, but life turned out to be cruel, and he was left uncertain with where to go until Daisy came along. Even then, he was left to grieve and wonder if he was meant to have a future at all.)

Considering everything, a choice of high school had been the last thing on his mind.

"No," he says as much in one simple word.

Tsukauchi raises a brow. "Really? How come?"

"I got too busy, I guess." From dealing with low-level criminals heckling him for money, knocking said criminals on their ass for harassing other people, and attending his martial arts and self-defense classes, "busy" probably didn't describe most of it.

"Understandable," the man comments with a teasing lilt. "You've got quite a track record here, Midoriya."

He doesn't recall the last time he's ever felt embarrassed, but this came close.

"Hey, why don't you go attend UA?"

John looks up from his cup to see the detective regarding him with a relaxed look in his eyes. He recalls hearing Katsuki mention a school called "UA" before, saying he wants to go there because it's where the best heroes came from. He had no opinion on it except that it's a high school, and students are taught and trained to be heroes.

(A repulsive part of himself takes note of how it's not much different from his time growing up. Training until his hands scarred and bled and bruised, raised to be a killer than a savior.)

"I don't want to be a hero." His answer stays the same because that's been the plan since day one.

Tsukauchi gives him a certainlook and he thinks he sees a slight twitch at the corners of the man's lips.

"Well, judging from your many—and I mean many—interventions between crooks and victims, I'd say you're well on your way to becoming one."

John shrugs, taking another sip, unsure of what to think about that kind of impression.

"I'm just being a decent person. If I can stop someone from hurting another, I'll do it."

(He holds his tongue—and his tone—about his concealed distaste for how commercialized heroism is in this world, though. John doesn't think he has the right to have an opinion on it, really, considering hishistory, and the underworld wasn't invested in media coverage of its human reapers for obvious reasons.)

Sure, he did the things he does now, stepping in between a knife and a child, stopping a bully from brutalizing their victim, but...

That still didn't make him something as glorified and praised as a hero.

"That may be true, but society doesn't see it in the way that you do, kid," Tsukauchi says and there's something faintly bitter and tired underneath, but John isn't here to navigate the detective's emotional state of mind.

For a moment, it's silent in the office, barring the whirring of the coffee machine and the hustle and bustle of the station outside the room.

His drink had gone a little cold but he forgets about it when Tsukauchi speaks again, "Look, Midoriya, all I'm saying is that UA could be a good place for you. If you don't want to be a hero, that's fine. But at least consider going? Because, no offense, you need some friends."

John opens his mouth to correct him.

"Bakugou is one friend. You need more than one."

John closes it.

"Plus," Tsukauchi adds with a thumb jutting at a very specific green ring binder sitting on the desk, "I'd prefer your track record to be less likethisin the future. The police chief's already breathing down my neck about letting a kid do most of the precinct's work for them."

He nods at that. "Sure." He'd hate to have a police chief breathe down hisneck.

Shortly, he checks the clock, and sure enough, he has about an hour before school starts. Hopefully, there won't be any giant crooks taking advantage of the rush hour. That would be a headache.

Finishing his drink and throwing it in the nearby trash bin, John takes his leave. "Thanks for the coffee."

Right when he opens the door leading outside the office, Tsukauchi says, "I know you said you don't want to be one, but I think you'd make a great hero, Midoriya." And there seems to be a smile in his voice too, but John doesn't look too deep into it.

Later, he mulls over his conversation with the detective on his trek to school, narrowly avoiding the day's villain and side-eying the heroes (that wood-themed hero is certainly...dramatic with his heroic spiel), but he shoves those thoughts in the back-burner as he passes the school's gate, mentally, emotionally, and physically preparing himself for another day.

~

"Now that you're all in your final year, I believe it's about time you think about your futures seriously."

Around him, John's classmates are practically buzzing with anticipation. Meanwhile, John busies himself reassessing his recent analysis of the fresh Pro Hero on the scene, Mt. Lady. Actually, now that he's looking at it, he should refine his code; or better yet, begin a new one.

Whichever's the easiest and less time-consuming.

"Ah, who am I kidding," the teacher continues. "I'm assuming you all want to be heroes?"

With a show of throwing the high school application forms in the air, the class (sans John and Katsuki) let their powers run free, a sudden pandemonium compared to the moment of complete silence earlier. It almost grates on his ears, but he's adept at tuning out the noise.

Especially when Katsuki is added to it.

"Sensei! Don't lump me in with these losers!" The blond proclaims, "If anybody in this shabby school's gonna make it big, it's gonna be me!"

Their classmates, expectedly, don't take the declaration too kindly, and John naturally blocks out the next wave of uproar before his eardrums could rupture. Honestly, Katsuki and his big ego will never cease to amaze him even after all this time.

"Ah, of course, that reminds me; Bakugou-kun will be taking UA's entrance exams, is that right?"

John ignores all the instant awes and compliments thrown at Katsuki, as usual. It's strange enough they still glorify him after being told they're "extras" daily. What he doesn't ignore, though, is the mention of UA again.

On his way to school, he typed the name on his phone, and according to his short and quick research, UA is one of the top hero academies in Japan, the alma mater to a cluster of widely known heroes such as All Might and this walking incarnate of Hephaestus named Endeavor (a grandiose name for a guy who seems to scowl a lot).

The school isn't like the Ruska Roma as far as he can tell. UA is—obviously—a high school, one the government is apparently funding, and while it teaches its students to fight and defend with their Quirks and otherwise, it also guides them to uphold good morals, to adopt the mindset of saving the people and stopping the villains.

(It's not like the Ruska Roma at all.)

All things considered, it's a place that John can't imagine himself attending.

The teacher says as much.

"Oh, it seems Midoriya doesn't have a choice of high school written here."

The other students, as he already expected, react in various degrees, some mocking, some pitying, some laughing. He ignores them all in favor of his notebook.

It's nothing he hasn't dealt with before, and he's a natural at tuning out nonsense for something that deserves his attention the most.

(Like wonderinghowdetective Tsukauchi even thought that John could go to such a school in the first place.)

After turning a deaf ear to Katsuki yelling at everybody as per usual, the school day is finally over at the ring of the bell, and John dispels the exhaustion from his body with a breath, waiting for everyone else to leave the room. Normally, he'd pack his things and leave before any unpleasant confrontations happen, but now, he knows without a shadow of a doubt that a certain someone is gonna confront him about a certain issue.

"Oi, you're going to UA with me, asshole."

Katsuki is looming over his desk, brows furrowed and arms crossed. To an outsider, it would seem as though Katsuki is trying to be intimidating, but between the both of them, it's just Katsuki being his usual gruff self as he communicates whatever's on his mind.

John doesn't look up from his current analysis-writing as he answers, "No."

Katsuki makes a noise that's a mix of confusion and his normal anger in the back of his throat. "The f*ck?! Why the hell not?!"

"I don't want to be a hero."

He wasn't lying when he said it the first time either, and when he was in Tsukauchi's office. For all that he's thought on it, he doesn't plan on attending what's essentially a hero school filled with hero-hopefuls. And he's not intending on becoming the opposite of what he used to be back then, and he's not planning on changing his mind, never mind what Tsukauchi thought.

It wouldn't reallyworkanyway in this kind of world, where those with Quirks are loved and favored than those without.

"You don't have to want to be a f*cking hero to get into UA, you dick," Katsuki grits, close to incinerating the desk as he's leaning his hands on it, but John is used to the attitude. "You could f*cking— I don't know, go to Gen Ed or some sh*t. I don't f*cking care, just go to UA with me!"

"Why?" Katsuki is easy to read on the best of days, but sometimes he can be quite unpredictable, something John has grown to be familiar with. "You wanted to be the only one in this school to go."

"Because!" The blond throws up his hands, letting off a few sparks before slamming them down on John's table again (to which John moves his notebook away in practiced ease), "You could get into some stupid sh*t with some villains or whatever the f*ck if I let you out of my sight!"

"It's a coincidence," he reasons, because he can tell the difference between enemies coming to get him with a purpose and thugs just trying to start something while John is in the same area. In the latter instance, he's just trying to defend others. Nothing particularly wrong with that.

(Better than other assassins attempting to murder him for a bounty and him throwing the sentiment right back at their faces twice as deadly.)

"No it f*cking isn't, asshole," his friend grumbles. "Every time I leave you alone—hell whenever you're out by yourself!— there's either a mugging going on while you're there or some two-bit thug about to f*cking shank you. You rock their sh*t anyway, but it's f*cking annoying when it happens all the damn time!"

"It happened only ten times this year."

"You got f*cking arrested for five of those, sh*tty Deku!" And of course, Katsuki figured out why John was almost late. May it never be said that the resident perfectionist isn't perceptive.

"Brought in for questioning, and then released without charges," he corrects. He absently wonders if that detective's partner is keeping a scoreboard from all his visits to the station.

Katsuki just stares at him with a look that says a lot of things until it settles on plain Katsuki-Annoyance. "I'm not gonna stop bugging the sh*t out of you until you say you're going to UA with me. You know I will, Deku."

Stubbornness. It's always stubbornness that he and Katsuki have in common the most. Unlike his friend, though, John knows when to call it quits. "Fine."

Looking exceptionally pleased with himself, Katsuki jerks his head to the classroom doors. "I'm heading to the store to buy some sh*t. You coming?"

"No. I've got things to sort out at home." Like triple-checking UA for anything suspicious, for example, but Katsuki doesn't need to know that.

"Then, I'm going with you. No f*cking way am I gonna let you off that easy after last month," he later says because of course. For all that he is brash and loud and difficult to understand at times, the blond boy is careful, and perhaps a little protective even though he'll deny it wholeheartedly.

"Sure."

They don't make it outside the classroom before John gets verbally harassed, though. Shame.

"Oi, stupid Deku! Did you finally become brain dead or something when you forgot to put in what high school you're gonna go to or what?" The voice of the other resident pompous kid, Mayura Ken, resounds from the other end of the hallway and John carefully keeps his emotions out of his face, as usual. Bullies get satisfaction out of your reaction.

"Ignore him, Katsuki," John says, already having noticed the blond about to tear the other kid a new one from the way he flexes his hands dangerously. Katsuki's been getting better at handling his anger issues but he has yet to completely reign them in. Acting on his rage via exploding Mayura into oblivion definitely won't help matters.

John should know, his anger has gotten him into plenty of trouble before.

Katsuki, meanwhile, scoffs, "The bastard's getting on my last nerves, Deku."

John continues walking, knowing fully well that letting even an inch of an opening for someone like Mayura to bug him incessantly wouldn't be a pleasant experience.

He doesn't need to look back to see Katsuki catching up with him, listening to the scuffs of the blond's shoes against the hallway floor. Mayura continues to taunt him from a dozen feet away, obviously the type to be petty from a distance.

"I seriously don't get how you're not f*cking pissed at that dumbass right now."

"It's not my problem."

Katsuki clicks his tongue. "Of course you'd say that. Smartass."

It's the truth, though. Dealing with guys like Mayura, all bark and no bite, just isn't worth the trouble. Besides, there's nothing to be gained from answering back; the only thing he'll get is more annoyances and pretentious boys flaunting whatever privilege they have.

"Hey, Deku!" Ah, Mayura is still talking, is he? "I got a suggestion for you if you decide to go to a hero school! Why don't you take a swan dive off the roof and wish for a Quirk in the next life?"

Like a remote control, it sets off Katsuki's fuse, and he detonates. "What in the goddamn f*ck did you just say, you degenerate piece of sh*t?!"

"Katsuki."

The blond stops just two steps away from him. His fists are clenched tightly, and John can practically smell the burning caramel from here. Oh, Katsuki's fists are smoking now.

"Don't."

Katsuki growls lowly, "Somebody should—"

"And that's not your job." Really, it should be the teacher's job to reprimand a student for their misconduct. His trainers and the Director certainly did whenever the other orphans of the Ruska Roma toed out of line. Even his dojo mentors in this life don't take too kindly to harassment—discrimination, especially.

"That son of a bitch needs to get his ass handed to him, Deku!" His friend snaps, bristling.

("He shot my dog," Sofia snarls lowly with a kind of vitriol and anger that only John could understand.)

"I get it," he tries to placate. "But he's not worth it. Let's go."

There are times when Katsuki doesn't listen to him, choosing to do what he wants to do, regardless of the aftermath. Most of those times happened to be when John gets pushed around too much and he doesn't react to it beyond a mask of apathy and cold indifference, whereas Katsuki responds to such treatment with a show of loud confrontation and indignation on John's behalf.

This time, though, Katsuki eases up, if with a bit of annoyance. At least the scent of burnt caramel is growing less intense.

They continue walking, Mayura's paltry goading echoing behind them, but they don't acknowledge it. Well, John doesn't. The boy beside him is obviously trying not to turn heel and possibly hospitalize Mayura until graduation, but the gritted teeth, clenched fists, and stiff shoulders fall away into something mild the moment they leave Aldera's gates.

"Ten minutes. Good work," John says. It's become a bit of a game of sorts, something Katsuki suggested they do to help curb his violent tendencies by timing how long it takes for him to calm down from a surge of anger. For the most part, it worked. (And sometimes he wished they could've done this sooner when they were toddlers, but the past...stays there.)

"Shut the f*ck up," Katsuki grumbles without the usual bite as they continue their path home in companionable silence (well, as companionable as it can be.)

~

He has to get outta here. He has to escapenowor Hewill find him, and hedoesn'twanna mess with that sh*t. He's a bastard, alright, but he ain't suicidal.

He's lost his previous invisibility cloak—it died before he could even make it past the shopping area—but that's fine; he can just find a new one! There are tons of 'em slithering in this godforsaken city, all smiles and laughter, and thinking they've got such an easy time.

Spotting a nearby sewer grate, he slinks through the gaps, hoping that wherever he ends up in, he'll find a new cloak.

~

For a moment, things have been relatively calm on their walk home from school, save for Katsuki complaining about Mayura or some other thing that caught his irritation.

But then things turn to absolute sh*t halfway into their journey and it starts with the sound of something rattling in the underpass that stops John in his tracks. Katsuki stops too shortly after.

"What?"

John doesn't answer yet. He raises a hand to halt any other questions, tilting his head to catch the noise again. It's...close. Too close for comfort, actually. Behind them.

"Get ready to run."

That's his only warning to Katsuki before something big and reeks of sewage bursts from the only manhole in the underpass, large, unhinged eyes directed at—

"Ah, two new invisibility cloaks? Don't mind if I do!"

John is quick to slide off his bag from his shoulders, sharp gaze locked on the pungent villain before him and the unmistakable presence of the eyes, out in the open for an attack (always exploit your enemy's weakness). Without delay, he hurls the yellow backpack at the guy's eyeballs with as much strength and accuracy as he could muster, earning a thunderous cry for the move.

(Mentally, he apologizes to Mom for the disrespect he's put on the bag that she bought for him for Christmas.)

"You little sh*t! That f*cking hurt!"

Without prompting, Katsuki immediately follows with a timed blast to the face, strong enough to stun the villain but not enough to bring the whole tunnel down. "Eat this, you son of a—"

But then the villain recovers all too quickly to encase the boy's limbs in green muck, cackling, "Eat what? You didn't finish! Now stay still so I can—"

John doesn't waver as he runs towards the villain, the familiar adrenaline of taking down difficult opponents and the unshakable instinct to get to Katsuki propelling him to leap at the sludge and claw at the gunk that's trapping his friend's arms.

As of right now, his goal is to free the other boy's hands so Katsuki could temporarily blind and daze the villain to spare them enough time to escape and alert a hero. While it's a feeble plan with plenty of potential drawbacks attached to it, John is willing to risk it to get Katsuki out.

(He risked it when he chose to put that bullet in Santino's head.)

His thoughts and his clawing come to an abrupt halt when he feels his own limbs get consumed by the same green sludge, the scent of sewage and a faint hint of smoke invading his senses as he's pulled away from Katsuki who is still screeching despite his mouth being covered by slimy filth.

"Ah, trying to save your little friend here, eh?" The sludge villain says with a croaked laugh. "That's fine, I get to have more than one sock puppet!"

Before he knew it, the odor of every foul entity from the sewers grows stronger, and John can feel something viscous and foul trespassing his mouth and forcing its way down his throat, cutting off his airways. Beside him, he can hear Katsuki managing to free his mouth of the sludge to let out a furious, "Get your nasty f*cking sh*t off us, you bitch!"

"Stop struggling, it'll hurt less!"

"f*ck you!"

John has had experience in being suffocated and strangled.

(A plastic bag over his head, struggling, finding a way out)

It's always an unpleasant experience; it's as if your entire body is slowly shutting down from the lack of oxygen—your eyes get blotted with dark spots, your throat constricted by rope or hands, your heart pounding against your ribcage like a burning iron ball, your consciousness slipping by the second—yet it still fights to stay conscious enough to get rid of the thing that's keeping you from breathing.

This is like those times, but worse.

There are no hands or ropes for him to break out of. It's simply thick sewage crawling into his esophagus, extinguishing any chance of air. Marcus isn't there to snipe the villain dead. It's just John and Katsuki, both being suffocated to possible death.

But John doesn't want to die here. He doesn't want both of them to die here, especially when Katsuki has something to look forward to. And Mom would be devastated if John were to die, and he hates being the reason she cries.

Black spots obtrude his vision. His ears ring and muffle any other noise, and he thinks he hears Katsuki yell for him, but John doesn't know. All he knows is that he can't breathe. He can't breathe.

Just as soon as the darkness swallows him whole, a booming voice cuts through it, and John can almost see the bright, obnoxious colors and a cheek-aching smile belonging to it.

"TEXAS SMASH!"

~

Consciousness returns to him slowly like molasses, but then it slaps him across the face.

Oh, no, it's just Katsuki.

"Oi, Deku, wake the f*ck up, you asshole!"

John peels his eyes open, staving off an impending headache, and above him, he finds Katsuki hovering over him with a scowl that says he's worried but wouldn't admit it even under the pain of death or embarrassment. The same could be said for how he sounds, occasionally interrupted by coughs.

"I'm up, I'm up," John says hoarsely, all too aware of how sore and dry his throat is. Actually, his whole body seems sore. He'll deal with that later, though. He has other concerns.

"f*cking finally! Deku, you will not f*ckingbelievewho just saved our asses," Katsuki starts, and that at least answers the question ofwhat happened.

Sitting up slowly with a bit of help from the other teen, he blinks, adjusting his eyes to the light, and John is suddenly conscious of the fact that a giant man is standing in front of them. A giant man who happens to be thelastperson John would want to see in any other setting.

"Ah! I'm glad you're alright, young man!" All Might says with a smile that feels souncomfortabletoJohn's face. He squints. Has it always been stuck like that or is it just some god-given talent that makes up All Might as a whole?

"My apologies for getting you two caught up with that villain. I don't normally make such mistakes, but I'm new around here and I may have gotten a bit too excited on my day off." The Number One Hero chuckles but it's more of a stentorian laugh than anything else.

John hums noncommittally, eyeing the older blond. Although he's not as much of a hero fan as Katsuki (and every other child ever), he is at least grateful that All Might came to save them in time. However, there's another concern of his that hehopesthe Number One has already dealt with by the time he arrived to help them.

"Um," he hears the man begin a little nervously (and isn't that funny? The top hero of Japan,nervousin front of two middle schoolers), "I don't mean to be rude or anything, but why is your friend staring at me like that?"

"He does that sometimes, you're fine," Katsuki answers gruffly.

John decides to ignore that. "Where's the villain?"

He sees All Might perk up, and he pulls out a large soda bottle from behind his back, the green sewage of the villain intact and confined within the plastic, knocked unconscious.

Huh...

John is not going to ask how the man did it. The laws of physics and reality have already been thrown out the window even before he was reborn, so he's not going to question it. "I've successfully detained him! Speaking of which, I should be dropping him off at the station now and be on my way. A hero's work is never done, after all!"

Just when the hero is about to leap away (without making sure they'll be fine by themselves, or calling an ambulance or their parents or anything becausea hero's work is never done)John briefly goes out of his way to suggest, "Keep your hold on the bottle instead of keeping it in your pocket. It'll fall otherwise."

He's unsure if the guy will even take his suggestion because he has a slight suspicion that All Might could be one ofthose peoplewho rely more on themselves rather than information and other outside sources to help them achieve their objectives.

He's of course proven wrong. "Oh! I see your point. Thank you for the suggestion, young man! Now, I must be off. Take care, you two!"

With that, All Might leaps into the air, soaring further away until he is just a dot in the sky, never to be seen again until some other dangerous villain comes around to summon him. Although… It could just be John's imagination, but was there blood peaking through the man's lips?

"Holy f*cking sh*t, we just met f*cking All Might," Katsuki mutters in disbelief. John will never know how it feels to meet your heroes, but at least his friend is enjoying himself, even when they almost got suffocated to death earlier.

Later, after taking a moment to collect themselves, they gather their things. To John's relief, his bag is relatively fine as well as his notebooks and pens, if a little dirtied. However, one notebook sticks out the most to him, and when he flips through its pages, he discovers with a grim line of his lips that the hero signed it with his hero name.

It takes two entire pages, and frankly, he is a little disconcerted that All Might thought to write on his notebook with a predetermined notion that John would want it.

He didn't, in fact, want it, but it's there on his notebook now, and he can't exactly erase it without wasting a correction fluid or two, and he can't tear them off without ruining the rest of the pages stapled with them. He does know someone who might want to keep it, though, and would like to preserve it as a family heirloom or something.

"Here." Without preamble, John hands the (defaced) notebook to Katsuki, who is gaping at the offering as if John just gave him the secrets to the universe.

"That's—"

"All Might's signature, yeah."

Katsuki, for some reason, looks bemused at the gesture, and John can't quite figure out why. "But—"

"I don't want it," is all he says because he knows that Katsuki knows that John isn't a diehard fan of the American-themed hero, so his offering shouldn't be that confusing.

After a brief period of Katsuki grouchily appraising John and the notebook, he swipes the thing into his hand, now returning to his usual self. "Suit yourself. 'S your loss."

It really isn't, but he's not going to bother telling Katsuki that. Napping is sounding reallyappealing right now.

~

Somewhere across the district, All Might has arrived at the police station. However, the familiar sensation of his time running out and his body steaming urges him to make another careless mistake.

He simply places the bottle holding the villain in front of the sliding doors rather than inside the station and leaps away in a rush, counting the remaining seconds he has before he could turn back into the shriveled husk of himself, his scar pulsing in phantom aches.

The sludge villain has awoken before any police officers could collect him. He escapes his plastic prison and seeks to find a newer, more submissive cloak with a powerful Quirk that could take down All Might.

And he does. And he reignsfire.

~

It says a lot about John's luck when another disaster strikes a few blocks from where he and Katsuki almost met their end by a slimy, sewer monster almost half an hour ago.He's not superstitious by any means, but if he was, he might've thought the universe was conspiring against him.

Because down the street, shortly after telling Katsuki for the nth time that he was alright, a crowd is forming in front of the entrance to a commercial alleyway, and John's gut is telling him it's not some celebrity making an appearance and causing a scene.

"The f*ck is going on over there?" Katsuki mutters under his breath, and likely without even knowing, moves closer to take a look. John follows, cautious eyes scanning over the shoulders of the bystanders, and while he's unsure of what he's supposed to find, hesees it.

Or rather,him.

"All Might! Come out and face me!"

John would like to believe it wasn't All Might's fault the villain escaped. A plastic bottle isn't really that strong of a container when it's holding a Quirk-powered man, after all, and the police probably didn't know how to cuff sludge. But this is still a disasterand the guy has another hostage now, one who evidently has a fire Quirk, and the heroes present aren't doing anything at all, save for getting nearby people out of burning buildings, and crowd control.

He's never had much of an opinion on professional heroes before but he certainly has one now, and it's that they are frustratingly incompetent at the worst of times such as this.

"Our Quirks are no good!" One of them shouts, a burly man with some kind of theme going on with the caution tape colors around his wrists. From John's memory, that must be Death Arms.

The other heroes seem to agree with him.

Then, a large shadow hangs over the crowd as the newest hero, Mt. Lady, comes to the scene, but is apparently stopped short due to the narrow width of the alley. "My Quirk is useless here!" She exclaims.

The sludge villain continues to wreak destruction with the hostage, the hostage who is currently trying tobreathethrough the gunk blocking his mouth, struggling, and pulling, while the heroes persist on standing aroundand watching it happen.

Our Quirks are no good,they said.My Quirk is useless here, they said.

(Never make excuses for your own incompetence, Jardani.)

"Hey, Deku, what the hell are you doing?"

John doesn't realize his feet are bringing him forward, a strange feeling taking over his senses until Katsuki has a hand wrapped around his arm, stopping him just a bit.

What washe doing? He involved himself in situations before when it seemed there wasn't any help coming, a practice that John picked up since he was eleven. But it was always out of the sight, behind alleyways, away from public scrutiny. He learned the dangers attached to it in his previous life, and he didn't want them to happen now, not with Midoriya Izuku. Not to mention, there are Pro Heroes on the scene. There's no need for him to jump in there. It'd be illogical to do so.

Mentally shaking his head, he exhausts all options first. He can't be irrational here.

"Hey," John steps forward to the nearest hero, the bulky man from earlier, and Katsuki follows, no doubt confused, but doesn't comment. "You can aim for—"

"Notnow,kid!" The man brushes him off sternly, practically shoving him back into the mob of onlookers. He ignores the way Katsuki grips his arm tighter at that. "If you want an autograph, wait 'til this is over! Now get out of here! This is a dangerous place for you to be in!"

(Unbidden, the memory of a particular unwarranted autograph on his notebook comes forth in his mind.)

The man looks over at the situation and whispers under his breath, "Help is on the way kid, hang on."

In any other situation, John might've listened. Might've left with Katsuki and just not involve himself with this. Might've gone home and hoped for the best becausePro Heroes are here,anda hero's work is never done.

But...

"What are the heroes doing?"

"That boy is in pain!"

"Where's All Might when you need him?"

"They said they're waiting for a hero with a suitable Quirk."

The boy being held hostage by the villain aims his panicked gaze at the crowd. His eyes seem to meet John's, tearful, and afraid, and desperately seeking for help, and—

(Daisy ran away, but it was too late, he heard the agony she was in, the kicks, the hits, the squeals, the barks, he couldn't help her, he was uselessto help her like he was useless to save Helen)

John Wick might not enjoy the aftermath of this, but Midoriya Izuku doesn't care at that moment.

"I'll be right back," is all he says to Katsuki before he wrenches his arm away and moves.

Startled shouts ring from behind him, some from civilians, others from the heroes, and one from Katsuki. But he doesn't falter, doesn't hesitate. He will never hesitate for this.

Just like before, he swiftly removes his bag and pitches it at the villain's eye, successfully distracting him with the pain it induced and caused him to free his hold on the hostage for a brief instant.

But John knows not to do things halfway and he takes out a pencil he immediately recalled stashing in his pocket back at the underpass and advances accordingly, leaping on the villain and clawing at the green sewage until he's directly above him, a large pupil there for him to do what he needs to.

"You again?!"The sludge creep screeches in a guttural tone."Oh, I'm gonna have so much fun digging yourgrave—!"

John never does let his enemies finish.

He grips his pencil with a purpose and without pause, stabs the eraser end of it against the eye with enough vigor, and the following happens:

John leaps away from the villain and grabs the hostage just as quickly, pulling him out of the muck.

The crowd screams. (And it sounds like Katsuki is screaming too.)

Someone arrives in a gust of wind, it seems, and then...

"YOU'VE CAUSED ENOUGH DESTRUCTION TODAY, VILLAIN!"

Oh, it's—

"DETROIT SMASH!"

Then it was over with one punch and a change of weather.

~

The sun has started setting by the time he and Katsuki leave the scene, but not without the latter having quite a lot of things to say to the heroes who have been scolding John for his recklessness.

And John wasn't really listening during the whole lecture. He was mostly occupied with making sure the hostage was okay, physically and otherwise, before sending him off to the paramedics who arrived shortly after the situation was dealt with. The heroes didn't look too happy with his blatant disregard of their reprimand, but he, on the other hand, didn't care.

The victim was saved, and the villain was arrested, that's all that really mattered. But the heroes didn't see it that way and took it upon themselves to give John some sort of wake-up call for his actions. Then it all heightened up to unabashed irritation at John's reveal of his Quirklessnesswhen asked if he had a Quirk at all.

You could've died,they said.Or worse, that kid could've died because of your recklessness!

That was when Katsuki arrived, temper blazing, and words firing out of his mouth like calculated detonations.

John didn't ask for the defense, but he didn't trouble himself into stopping the blond from giving the heroes an earful of things they could've, would've, and should've done without letting them use their incompatible Quirks as an excuse. There wasn't anything he could do aside from watching for any signs that Katsuki might go absolutely feral on Pro Heroes. (He didn't, fortunately.)

If it weren't for All Might stepping in and the media vans arriving to catch at least the latter half of Katsuki's critical tongue-lashing, they would've been there the whole day.

"Stupid f*cking careless— they didn't even do sh*t!" Katsuki complains again, kicking at a nearby pebble on the road as they continue their trek home for good this time. "They just stoodthere!"

John simply listens, brushing off the grime and soot from his bag.

"And when you did something actually f*ckingusefulandsavedthat kid rather than standing around like an idiot like they were, they had the motherf*cking gallto scold you for it! And they didn't do jacksh*t with the situation because their Quirks aren't suitable— f*ck them all!" He lets out a few sparks at that, and John absently wonders how no one in the neighborhood has come out yet to give hima tongue-lashing for the noise.

"sh*t, their heads are as big as their f*cking stupidity, like it's not even funny, Deku," Katsuki finishes, shoving his hands in his pockets and glaring at the ground as if he could imagine the faces of those heroes appearing there.

Silence permeates the air for a while, the two of them letting what occurred pass over them like clouds. John isn't one to dwell on idle things such as being told off by adults, but it seems to be important enough for Katsuki, so he'll let him stew on it until they're home.

Eventually, he hears Katsuki sigh, "I know it's stupid to ask you this, but why aren't you pissed at 'em?"

The answer comes easily, "They weren't my problem."

"I'm gonna need more than that, you heart-attack-on-legs," his friend grumbles, and well. That's fair. He probably surprised Katsuki too much with that stunt.

After a glance in his direction, John says evenly, "I only cared about the one who needed help, not the ones who didn't give it. That's it."

Katsuki doesn't have a rebuttal for that. He simply mutters, "You and your stupid, big heart," under his breath, and continues to walk beside him, if with a bit of a slouch to his shoulders.

And once again, silence fills the space between them, and all is calm.

"I AM HERE!"

At least itwas.

"All Might?!" His friend chokes out. "The hell are you doing here?!" John does not know what the Number One Hero wants. What he does know is that he'stired,he wants to gohome,and All Might is blocking the way, smiles and muscles and all.

"I was actually looking everywhere for you two!" The man says, still smiling (when does he not?)."The media caught me up, though, but I'm here now!"

"We f*cking know that but why."

"I..." The blond man appears uncertain, moving his gaze between him and Katsuki for a brief moment before he continues, "Before I begin, this is something that, with any luck, will provide as much context as possible. I have a secret to share with the both of you, and I hope you'll keep quiet about this."

At the serious tone, they nod in silence.

What happens next is probably one of the least likelythings John predicted with this whole interaction, yet here they are. And it's a fortunate thing that John knows how to keep his composure well enough.

In an outburst of smoke, All Might disappears, and there stands a skeleton of a man with a shaggy golden mane and two tufts of hair framing his hollow-cheeked face. The clothes that All Might had been wearing are hanging loosely around the man's frame, and it's Katsuki who breaks the tense silence with a soft but equally shocked,"What the f*ck."

"As you can see," All Might—because itisAll Might, who else could it be? The voice and the clothes are enough indicators—begins, gesturing to himself. "This is one of the secrets I've kept from the media and the public."

Later, the man leads them to an empty playground nearby where no one else could hear and he tells a tale of an unbroadcast battle, his close and bloody victory over his enemy, and the scars that trail after, how his body is reduced to such a form, how much time he has left when out being All Might,theNumber One Heroof Japan. It's something John truly hasn't expected because it sounds like it came from a comic book, but he treats the story and its teller with as much respect as he could give.

There's something else the man is hiding, and whatever it is, John hopes it's not something as dangerous as the other information the hero willingly gave to twochildren.

"Okay," Katsuki says after a lull, scuffing his shoes against the dirt. "That explains why you look like a matchstick with hair, but that doesn't explain why you bothered to look for us."

John continues to stay quiet as the hero slowly but surely explains why he sought for them; how John's actions of saving that kid, regardless of his Quirklessness, spurred him on into going past his limit, how Katsuki's words defending John gave him something to think about, reminded him of the true essence of a hero.

It's almost too trite of an explanation, but an explanation all the same, even when it goes into a tangent sometimes.

"And there's another reason why I was looking for you two," All Might says before turning his eyes at John standing just a few ways away from the man who is sitting at one of the benches. Katsuki raises a brow from his spot on the sandbox's frame while John just tenses underneath his dirtied uniform because there's a light in those eyes that he wants nothing to do with. It reminds him of this morning's meeting with Tsukauchi when the detective told him he'd make a "great hero".

"Young Midoriya, as I said, your actions have truly inspired me to act, and I'm sure your friend can agree with me when I say that you are incredible in your own right."

"Hell f*cking yes he is," Katsuki adds helpfully, even when John can hear the 'but not as much as me'.

"Which is why," All Might goes on, this time standing up and looking at John with an expression he can't believe is directed athimof all people. "I wish to have you as my successor."

...What.

Chapter 6: from within

Chapter Text

"I wish to have you as my successor."

In another world, John might've fallen to his knees and cried his heart out from overwhelming emotion. In another world, John might've said 'yes' in an instant, eyes twinkling with childlike hope, thinking to himself that this is the start of his journey. In another world, John might've done both.

But in this world, John is just silent, which isn't all that unusual, but still.

"Wait,what the f*ck," Katsukisokindlyadds, abruptly rising from his spot and coming to stand beside John, narrowing his eyes at the older hero for some reason. It's an odd thing for Katsuki, the biggest All Might enthusiast John knows, to regard the hero with such a wary gaze, but John pays no mind to it. He'll wonder about that later. "What the hell do you mean by'your successor'?"

John had met or heard of plenty of successors to kingpins of large mafia groups in his past life. They all had something in common, whether it be money, charisma, poise, influence, or power. They were also young, quick to make hasty decisions, and hardly thought of the consequences.

(Iosef wheezed from the pain, the blood soaking through his clothes, and he gritted, a last-ditch stall for time, "It was just a stupid dog—" John didn't let him finish.)

In the end, however, most of those successors ended up being used as pawns in their predecessor's little games, tricking them into thinking they could take over their respective empires so easily and pouncing on their vulnerability.

If what All Might is offering is anything remotelycloseto that...

John doesn't know what will happen, but no one will be happy.

The man blinks confusedly, then perks up with a shocked look on his face, as if he had just remembered one crucial detail. A detail that would've beenveryhelpful to the increasing tension coiling around John's shoulders.

"Ah! Of course, of course, um..." All Might surveys the area again before he clears his throat and John hopes that whatever the man is about to say, it better elucidate his offer. He never did like unclear contracts. "Alright, what I'm about to tell you is another classified piece of information about myself which Itrustthat you two will keep secret."

They nod.

"Okay, then." All Might breathes deeply, the shadows on his face making him appear older than he is, and finally answers in a tone distinct enough for them to catch from this distance, and low enough to not attract any passing ears.

"What I meant by asking Young Midoriya to be my successor is... I wish for him to inherit my Quirk."

Huh.

John had expected a lot of things to come out of the man's mouth, but it certainly wasn'tthat.

After researching and studying humanity's biological "upgrade" for a considerable amount of time, he finds it hard to believe that someone can justinherita Quirk in the "passing of the torch" sort of method just like that. It's almost impossible, but he knew that in this world now, anythingis possible.

"YourQuirk?"Katsuki parrots disbelievingly, his voice remarkably low and something else John can't make sense of at the moment.

All Might nods. "Yes. My Quirk is...unique, for a lack of a better word."

And from there he unravels another story, a story that honestly seems like it truly came straight from a movie he never watched or a storybook he never read.

A power that has existed during the dawn of Quirks, All Might tells them. Born from a time when evil reigned, it helped select heroes fight against it, a power that can be cultivated and passed on—one that has been passed on for generations, its name being One for All.How fitting.

One Quirk to be used by many people to save others. It seems so burdensome, almost.

And All Might had this Quirk fordecades. If he were any regular man (or teenager) John would've brushed it all off as some convoluted fairy tale and move on with his life, never to meet All Might again.

But he sounded so genuine about it. As far as John can tell, the man wasn't lying. Or at the very least telling them the things they need to know.

Still, that kind of ability is something John senses has a catch to it. He's not sure how or why, but there is. Everything has a catch, after all, and thisOne for All has one. But he won't pry All Might for any more details. This day is getting stranger and more exhausting by the minute, and he'd very much like to go home, but he stays. There's probably more All Might wants to say.

He notices Katsuki stealing a side-glance at him from his peripheral before the blond crosses his arms, assessing the hero again with narrowed eyes. "So basically, you wanna give Deku your centuries-old Quirk just like that?"

"That is my offer, yes." All Might wrings his hands together in a nervous tic, and isn't that peculiar? The strongest man in the country seems so out of his element here that it nearly gives John the impression that the Number One Hero could just be an entirely different identity of this gangly man before them.

For a fleeting moment, Katsuki is unspeaking, bearing that specific downturn of his lips that John mentally dubs as his friend's version of him being lost in thought, but not too deep into the forest of his mind.

All Might continues to appear awkward and nervous, but he stands tall, as much as his gaunt form allows him to.

Then, Katsuki speaks with a particular tone, "You're not doing this out of pity, are you?"

That seems to startle the hero. "What? No, of course not! That was never my intention at all!" He objects, waving his hands frantically, "As I said before, Young Midoriya's actions have been truly inspiring to me. I never once thought of offering because I pity him, or only saw him for his Quirklessness. I just found him to be a worthy successor of my Quirk because of his heroic spirit and heart."

John has been expressing his indifference to his Quirkless status for years now, his disinterest in heroics even more so. Katsuki knows how he feels about those two things, yet teases him, still, for the number ofheroic deedshe's done since he was twelve years old.

But he never once saw what he was doing as anythingspecial.Really,anyonecould have done the same thing. He unwittingly gained a reputation out of it, sure, but he never cared for it, like how he never cared for his reputation as the Baba Yaga.

His actions weren't all that exceptional. Yet they were exceptional enough to apparently inspire the Number One Hero to present him with a proposition that anyone else would think should be accepted without question.

This is a mess. And John can't even call Charlie to deal with it.

"What do you think, Deku?"

John turns to look at Katsuki who is peering back, but this time he doesn't have his usual snappish frown on his face, just a relatively calm one with his brows only slightly furrowed.

He looks back at All Might, who is observing him with expectancy and hope hidden behind his hollowed eyes, his fidgeting having stopped when the ball is in John's court now. He avoids them, averting his attention to the ground as if it'll give him the correct answers.

Whatdoeshe think?

He looks at it as it is first.

He's being offered a Quirk that has existed for a long,long time, a Quirk beyond his understanding. A Quirk that belonged to many others, and now belongs to All Might, a hero clad in too bright colors and bearing the title of the Symbol of Peace with a smile, a burden meant for stronger shoulders. A Quirk meant to be used by good heroes.

And somehow, the current wielder is choosingJohnto be the next one to have—...

Wait.

Actually, now that he thinks of it...

"Deku?"

John pays no heed to Katsuki's questioning stare as he lifts his eyes from the ground and towards All Might's curious ones. It's only a hunch, one born from the information that was given and All Might's current state, how his time as a hero is shorter compared to before, but he just wants to be sure.

"Why are you offering your Quirk now?"

The spindly man startles again, and so does Katsuki who only raises a brow, but John focuses on the older blond, intent on figuring this out first before deciding. He can't go into this blind.

All Might seems to have seen something in John's expression (what it is, he's not sure) when he takes a steady breath, his shoulders lowering as if an invisible weight is saddling him somehow. Shortly after, he places a hand on his side, on the spot where his surgical scar was.

"I…" The man starts uncertainly before he lightly shakes his head. "Remember when I told you how my time as a hero is now limited?"

Without prompt, he continues, this time with a somber tone to his voice that John picks up beneath the strength All Might tries to carry with his next words, "It's not just that. My time as a hero is slowly decreasing as time passes, the same goes for my health, and because of that, I must search for a successor to inherit One for All. If I don't, then this power dwindles with me, and..."

He lowers his eyes to the fist he clenches in front of him. "Despite my victory over my enemy, I feel as though I'm disrespecting the past holders if I let it disappear like this. I know I've held onto this Quirk for a long time, but I'd feel grateful if it helps the next generation. So I hope you understand why I'm doing this now."

John does bob his head, understanding his reasons to some degree. He doesn't know how long All Might had been a hero for, but it's reasonable that the man can't keep it up for much longer without risking his health. However, it doesn't quite satisfy the other question he has on his mind. Something that doesn't make sense to him.

He voices it as much. "Why me?"

"What?"

Both Katsuki and All Might stare at him. He doesn't falter under the patent bafflement as he repeats, loud enough for the hero to hear, "Why are you offering it to me?"

The explanation All Might gave before, the one about how inspired he apparently was with John's actions during the sludge villain incident, didn't seem that sufficient, in retrospect.

While it was a good enough reason for the hero's standards, John can't see it as a greatone. Because, when he looks at the bigger picture beyond the one he was looking at earlier, everything just happens to be a "right place, right time" situation. A coincidence.

Even more than that, the hero's mind was made up from a child's heroicactions alone? It was unreasonable at best, and stupid at worst, not to mention unusual.

Because at the end of the day, they don't even know each other. He's just some middle-schooler while the other is a notable Pro Hero, only knowing each other's names from hearing of them in passing.

So the man's choice to seek John out and offer him his Quirk was…rash. Impulsive. Reckless, maybe, if not more reckless than spilling significant confidential matters to young teenagers. (When did his life turn out like this?)

"Young Midoriya, I'm not sure what—"

"What if it was someone else who saved the victim?" John presses. "Would you offer your Quirk to them?"

When the blond man doesn't reply, John pushes forward, words flowing through his lips. He's not the talkative type, never has been, but he lets himself speak his mind. "I understand your reasons, but believe me, anyone could have done what I did, and I'm sure you would've offered your Quirk to anyone else that inspired you, or you saw as qualified to have it."

As much as he wants to respect the older hero's wishes, there are lines he has to draw before things spiral out of control, and he has tofightandbleedto have it back to normal again.

Accepting an ancient powerful Quirk that's bound to have hidden secrets from a virtual stranger, regardless of his status as a Pro Hero, without knowing what will come out of it other than having a power of his own?

It'll likely lead to something that he can't go back from. A path to a familiar life before this.

("People don't change, you know that," Viggo said. "This life follows you, clings to you, infecting everyone who comes close to you.")

("You got out once," Winston told him. "You dip so much as a pinkie back into this pond, you may well find something reaches out...and drags you back into its depths.")

("How can you fight the wind?" The Director questioned. "How can you smash the mountains? How can you bury the ocean? How can you escape from the light? Of course, you can go to the dark. But they're in the dark too. So tell me, Jardani, what do you really want?")

John can'taffordto be reckless. Especially if it jeopardizes his chances of living a relatively normal life away from anything past stopping punks from harassing young children. He was, frankly, done making any more foolish choices.

"If you need to find a successor, there are other people out there, older, more experienced, worthierenough to have One for All," John says, never once breaking eye contact with the speechless All Might before him. "You can ask anyone else, offer your power to anyone else, but not me."

And there's his answer.Not him.

John isn't a hero. He never was, regardless of what Katsuki says, what Tsukauchi says, what Mom would always say because he was one to her. He never even saw himself as such. Just a person who tries to help people when he can, because he could.

Moreover, judging from what he's seen of All Might and One for All, he sure as hell doesn't want an ability that can killa man with one careless flick of a finger. And isn't that a thought? A killer with an ability that can do more damage than a gun.

Avillainin that sense.

(And that felt suitable. He wasn't a hero,because he was avillainbefore he became Midoriya Izuku.)

For all that he's learned not to let emotions drive him off the cliff, John doesn't trust himself not to slip, and break, and fall back into that abyss that told him to pull the trigger and throw his life away at the slightest brush of what he was used to, so he can't take that chance.

"Thanks for the offer, but I decline."

For a moment, no words are exchanged. Katsuki stands still by his side, hands in his pockets and regarding him subtly in his peripheral.

All Might, meanwhile, seems lost for words with this particular expression on his face, something John can't begin to decipher until the thin man sighs. It's not one of disappointment, nor anything akin to it. One of acceptance, maybe?

He doesn't know. As of right now, he's growing too tired to wonder.

"I understand, my boy," All Might says finally and he...doesn't sound upset. He can't quite pin it down, but this is preferable to anything else the hero might throw at them. "You're right, I could've offered my Quirk to anyone else if they were in your shoes. And I'll admit, I may have been..."

He chuckles lightly, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly. "A little too hasty in my decision in asking you to inherit my Quirk just from watching you."

"Yeah, no sh*t. That really came out of nowhere, All Might," Katsuki, who had been quiet this whole time, comments, but there's something a little off about him. John files that matter away for later. Or sooner, depending on how long it takes for him to get Katsuki to speak hismind.

The gaunt hero laughs softly again, "Yes, it was. And I will respect your wishes and find someone who I deem worthy enough to inherit One for All, Young Midoriya. I'll be sure to not come to a decision based on one deed alone; I need to get to know my future successor better first." (His face changes minutely at that last part, but John respectfully doesn't ponder over it.)

John nods, fairly glad the man is at least considering his opinion. He's not sure what he was going to do if the guy had been prodding at him to accept, but he knows it's not going to be anything pretty.

Now that that's over and done with, they can finally go home.

"Ah, that reminds me!"

Never mind.

At least the guy's chipper now as he tells him of his new teaching position at UA (UA again.Is the universe telling him something?) and how he's completely decided on using that as a way of searching for a potential successor.

It's a little unconventional considering there are bound to be dozens of students to choose from, but if there's one thing John can respect about All Might, it's that when he says he can do something, he does it. So he'll trust that he can find a good successor in due time.

Katsuki appears excited by the news, less slouchy and attentive, but John has another hunch that All Might hasanother thing to say, and god he's close to leaving and going straight home right then and there. But he stays.

All Might regards them both. "I know it's sudden to ask this, Young Midoriya, but is your friend—"

"The name's Bakugou Katsuki, and before you get any ideas, I don't want your Quirk either. I can climb to the top with my own power," Katsuki butts in, his bravado coming back as he raises his chin and crosses his arms, and John expects it as much. For all that he admires All Might, he's proud to a fault.

"Ah, no, I wasn't going to ask you that," the man affirms, not unkindly, grinning just a bit at Katsuki's bout of confidence. "I was going to ask if you two are taking UA's entrance exam."

"Weare,"Katsuki sends John a particular stare that says 'you better f*cking go'before returning his gaze to All Might. "Why are you asking anyway? Gonna give us pointers?"

The man chuckles, "Well, no, not exactly, but I amgiving you a different proposal." All Might stands just a little bit taller, his blue irises gaining a brighter hue to them when he continues, "While I'm not offering One for All to the both of you, I'd like to help you prepare for the entrance exams if that's alright."

What.

"What?!" Katsuki voices the same sentiment.

"I know it's strange, and we are pretty much strangers, still, but after witnessing Young Midoriya saving a life and Young Bakugou defending a friend from unjust treatment, as well as this conversation we had, I sincerely wish to help and see you succeed in becoming great heroes. The practical portion of the exams, as I remember, is difficult if you go in unprepared, so I'd like to help."

AndAll Might looks completely sincere about it too, his angular features not hindering the grin he bears. It's strange. A man who is idolized by many, feared by villains, and seen as the strongest one of all, viewed as untouchable, helping two young kids with no strings attached, even though he must be busy himself.

Perhaps John misjudged him just a little bit.

However, that's not to say he'll go along with All Might's suggestion.

But before he could even voice another decline to the man's offer, Katsuki hooks an arm around his shoulders with a bit of a jostle, not so subtly stopping him from saying anything by blatantly covering his mouth. And John can feel his chances to escape and go home slipping away. "This isn't some charity work bullsh*t you're pulling, is it?"

"It's not, I can assure you; I'm not suggesting this as All Might, but as someone who thinks you both have a shot at being wonderful heroes!" All Might answers with that familiar pearly-white smile of his, and John resists the temptation to massage his own cheeks.

Katsuki clicks his tongue, averting his gaze, but John knows embarrassment when he sees it. "Fine, do you whatever you want. At least we're getting some tips from a f*cking pro. But we'll be doing most of the work!"

"Yes, yes, I understand," All Might says lightheartedly. "It's nice to see the youth being so high-spirited!"

He then clasps his hands together, and John knows that he needs to get out of this as quickly as possible before he could be dragged deeper, but Katsuki has a solid hold on him, so escape is futile. John, with enough regret to fill an ocean, stays quiet because he has accepted his fate as All Might declares in high spirits, "Well then, why don't we discuss the game plan tomorrow? It's getting a little late now, and I'm sure you're both tired from all the excitement today."

No kidding.

After exchanging phone numbers (John didn't pull out his phone, yet somehow the blond boy managed to slip it out of his pocket to give to All Might), and promising to keep in touch (that will be Katsuki's job. John will take no part in any of the back-and-forths messaging) the hero puffs up in his muscled form and says his goodbyes, with a bit of his usual flair that he shows off in public.

Once All Might is now just a distant dot in the sky, and they're left by themselves once more, John shoots Katsuki a look.

Katsuki, after being exposed to it for so long, doesn't react beyond a roll of his eyes. "You'll thank me for it later."

He won't. And that's a promise.

(It doesn't go unnoticed how quieter Katsuki's been as they make their way home for real. John also takes note of this building tension between them, but doesn't say anything about it.)

~

They arrive at the apartment he shares with Mom, and it's at that moment of removing his shoes John realizes that she must have seen the news.

"Izuku!" Mom is sobbing a waterfall by the time she reaches him and Katsuki, pulling only John into her special hugs that literally leave you breathless. But he's used to that particular form of oxygen deprivation, so he just lets her hold him.

He seriously doesn't like making her cry. "I saw the news, I was so worried, honey! I know you can take care of yourself but please don't do that again! You nearly gave me a heart attack!" His uniform is beginning to feel damp with her tears but honestly, it's the least troublesome thing to stain his clothes. At least it's just water.

She notices Katsuki watching it all happen eventually. "Oh! Katsuki-kun, hello! I'm sorry, I didn't see you there," she offers him a teary smile. The blond only shrugs, giving her a brief nod.

"Hi, Auntie."

He gets pulled into a tight hug too.

~

There are things about Katsuki that John picked up quicker than most throughout the years, one of them being that when he feels a certain emotion, he lets it out, unrestrained to a certain degree.

When he's mad or irritated, he yells towards the high heavens, his hands sparking for more emphasis. When he's upset, he pouts and broods, and becomes a little more withdrawn until he isn't. When he's happy (not that he would even admit that he was), he wears this feral grin on his face, and his eyes become a lot brighter and expressive, his entire demeanor just a bit more open.

(John might've felt jealous of Katsuki, somewhat, for being able to express himself so openly. But he isn't. It's not Katsuki's fault he has the emotional capacity of a stone wall when it comes down to it.)

(He held the dark material in his hands, and he knew in that instant that he has returned to the shadows. He screamed.)

And when Katsuki is suspicious or doesn't believe a single word you say, he makes it obvious. So glaringlyobvious.

"What?" John breaks the tense quietness in his room because Katsuki's glares are starting to become a bit more bothersome than usual, even with the hero-themed bedsheets he's sitting on mitigating his frown to be less intense.

"Why the hell didn't you accept All Might's offer?"

Oh, so that's what this is about.

"I said—"

"I know what you said, but I f*cking know you, and I know you have another reason for that, so spill."

John sighs through his nose as he puts down his pen. He's not going to get anything done if he doesn't settle this sudden issue they seem to have as soon as possible.

He thought he made his choice clear, that he wanted All Might to choose someone else, someone far worthy to inherit a power that could save more lives than end them. Heeven said it without sounding cryptic or vague, hoping that All Might would understand (which he did). He thought Katsuki did as well.

He seems to have miscalculated.

"I didn't want his Quirk," he answers, simple as that. "I never asked for it."

"But—"

"Those heroes earlier," John interrupts. "They used their Quirks as an excuse when someone was in danger and they couldn't help."

When Katsuki doesn't say anything, John takes it as his cue to continue, turning on his chair so that he's fully facing the teen, hoping this would quell any not-friendly fires from starting because John is tired of this particular subject already. And it's only been a mere few hours since the villain incident, even less of that for the whole All Might revelation.

"If having a Quirk means not helping someone because it's incompatible and you wait for someone else to do it, then I don't want one."

He makes sure to keep his composure and his tone as level as possible, enough to get Katsuki to understandand see John's reasons as they are. Otherwise, Katsuki will be in another one of his rare mood swings where he treats John with hostility in one instance and keeping him at a distance in the next.

John slouches forward, elbows on his knees, and sights trained on his friend. "I've never had high opinions on Quirks, Katsuki. And you know that I never wished for one since we were younger. I've been fine so far without one, so why would I accept All Might's Quirk now?"

Katsuki actually takes the time to ponder over his answer, lowering his red-eyed gaze, and John waits.

"You'd have a shot at being a hero," is the boy's reply, although judging from how his face scrunches up a little after saying it as if he ate something sour, he probably figured instantly that it's a feeble argument because he's heard John's argument before, repeatedly.

"But I don't want to be a hero," John counters evenly, and he will say it again and again like some sort of prayer to any higher being that would listen.

"I know that, and I still don't f*cking get it." Katsuki lets out tiny sparks resembling those special sparkling candles before flopping his back on his bed with a rough sigh, "You've been helping a lot of people these past few years, Deku. That's what a hero does."

"It's what any decent person does."

"Yeah, but not any decent person can beat the sh*t out of a villain with a pencil."

"I had practice."

"Since when did Kachitsu-sensei's classes teach you how to do that, you trouble magnet f*ck."

John doesn't reply this time, because he knows this conversation could go on in circles if he did. He has other reasons why he declined All Might's offer (he wasn't a hero,because he was avillain)but he knew they wouldn't be received well.

How do you even tell someone you used to be a hitman who buried too many bodies for a life of retirement and then later return to that life of death and decay from a single act of revenge, only to die and be reborn as a powerless child in a powerful world? There certainly aren't any guidebooks for that.

Right now, telling Katsuki the initial reasons is enough and within the realm of his current life as an average teenager in a superhuman society. It's as safeas it can be.

So John turns back to his work and begins writing again. The new code looks better this time.

After a brief moment where they don't swap the usual banter, he hears Katsuki sigh. "You really don't wanna be a hero?"

"No, I don't."

"And you really don't want All Might's Quirk?"

"No."

The blond wordlessly grumbles under his breath at that, and this time, it's John's turn to be annoying.Well, as annoying as he is physically, emotionally, and mentally capable of.

"Didyouwant All Might's Quirk?"

"The f*ck?! I said Ididn't,dipsh*t!" Katsuki hisses.

"Hm."

"Oi, f*ck you, I said didn't want his f*cking Quirk, I mean it! I'm gonna be number one without it!"

"Okay." John doesn't pause in his code-writing, somewhat satisfied with his work. At least Katsuki's stopped staring daggers at him and making it difficult to finish his notes.

Katsuki makes a sound at the back of his throat before he mutters grumpily, "You're one complicated son of a gun, you hear me?"

"That insult is new."

"Shut up, I'm a bastard, but I'm not a heartless dick, especially to Auntie!"

"Hm."

And from there, the conversation turns into different, lighter matters, with Katsuki doing most of the talking and John doing most of the listening, sharing a few opinions here and there out of habit. When Katsuki talks about what his training would be like after some time, John relaxes in his seat, finalizing his notes, while reminding himself to research UA in full.

He even takes the initiative to text their self-defense and martial arts teachers that they won't be attending their classes anymore, using the generic "exam preparation" excuse to cover for their training with All Might. While he isn't close to either of them, John is at least grateful for their guidance.

They don't talk about All Might or One for All, or their eventual training with the hero the rest of the night, which is all fine by John. He wouldn't even participate in the discussion if they did.

~

Katsuki stays for dinner, and while John had expected him to go home, it's not a surprise his friend wants to have a sleepover. He does this whenever John gets into some trouble whenever he's around to witness it or hear about it. He's caring like that, even when he says he isn't.

And later in the night, when he's close to slipping into meaningless dreams, he hears Katsuki whisper into the dark, a pledge born out of a desire to challenge him.

"I'm gonna blow the entrance exam out of the f*cking water, Deku, so don't half-ass it either, or else I'll blast you to f*cking Australia."

John decides to concede with Katsuki's expectations just a bit. Just so he won't have to be "blasted to Australia".

"Sure."

~

When John woke up to the hero's messages that morning, he thought about the choices that led him to this point.

He stewed over it, wondered what he could've done differently so that he and Katsuki wouldn't have crossed paths with All Might and end up being involved in...whateverthisis. All Might and Katsuki call it "training", but John calls it a kick in the ass from the universe.

Eventually, though, and with a ton of effort on his part, John accepted that what's done is done.

He's...trainingwith Katsuki and All Might for the entrance exams. And he can either back away and risk Katsuki being alotmore aggravating for the next few months or go through with it and finish what has been started.

However...

"All Might, what the f*ck are we doing here," Katsuki deadpans, and if he listens hard enough, John could hear seagulls flying overhead.

And All Might, in his muscle form, laughs jovially, "You're here to train, of course!"

"Yeah, I get that," Katsuki says with a certain tenor, and John instinctively braces himself for the impending noise, "but WHY A f*ckING TRASH BEACH?!"

Dagobah Municipal Beach is, for a lack of a better term, a mess.

Everywhere you look, there's a large pile of trash and scraps. You can barely see the sand underneath broken appliances and tossed soda cans. There's even a wrecked Volkswagen in the distance, sitting prettily on top of a particularly high summit of other machine parts, and John pointedly ignores the weird scent that's a mixture of sea salt and waste.

He's only ever heard of this beach from peers jeering at him that if he ever ended up homeless, he could find a good home at the illegal garbage dump beach. At first, John brushed it off as another one of their usual petty taunts but looking at the mountains of junk and other unwanted contraptions now, he's starting to reconsider.

How long has it been like this anyway? Longer than John had been alive in this world, probably.

It's no wonder All Might chose this place as their training grounds; at least then, no one would find them with a deflated All Might and cause a ruckus.

"You see, Young Bakugou," All Might, in his muscle form, begins, patting the top of a run-down refrigerator. "Heroics wasn't always about fighting villains and standing in the spotlight."

John sits through another heroic speech, and to the man's credit, it's enlightening enough that it gets Katsuki to look rather contemplative. While John still doesn't hold All Might in the same regard as Katsuki does, he will admit, the man can be inspirational when he needs to be, especially with this.

"Now then! We have ten months to build up a solid foundation for you boys before entrance exams. You think you can clean this place before then?"

"Hell yeah," Katsuki says with a wild smirk, hitting his fist against his palm. John just nods.

Soon enough, they get to work, with All Might acting as an onlooker of their progress. (Sometimes the man throws in words of encouragement; a little odd for John's taste, but whatever makes the guy happy.)

They, of course, start small, carrying things like discarded boxes, wrecked kitchen appliances, and other questionable garbage, building up from there over time. Fortunately, All Might had the forethought to bring in a truck large enough to store the trash they've collected and take them to a legal dumping site.

As he carefully lifts a broken microwave (seriously, isn't there a specific area for things like this?), John thinks back to his own training before becoming Midoriya Izuku.

In the Ruska Roma, training is usually a lot less lenient. They don't take kindly to blunders, and they make certain that you never make the same mistakes twice. (The Director always sought perfection.)

This is mostly the case for the younger members, where their minds are easily adjustable. Once you've grown older with more lessons and corrections drilled into your head, you train with your peers with the instructors observing. It's never an experience of mindless brutality in the training rooms; it was always that of mutual respect on and off the mat.

John knows this, yet he can't help but recall the subtle looks he got from his past adoptive brothers in those rooms. He was never close to any of them, but he can still see the animosity underneath their practiced facades of detachment. Like they wanted to kill him for existing.

But he never cared for that. He sparred with them, won most of the matches, and never minded the cold stares. Eventually, he transitioned to solo training. It was easier. It was quieter. He was left alone.

Then he left and enlisted, and he became better,with every drop of blood trickling from his knuckles, every aching muscle in his body, every waking moment feeling as if a gun was aiming at his head.("Fortune favors the bold," the tattoo engraved on his back said.)

Training by himself could still be different here, he muses.

He wouldn't need to condition his body the way he used to; just enough to help him with the entrance exams. Enough to keep him from being another body count for villains. Enough to keep his mother from worrying. Enough to keep himself—to keepMidoriya Izuku—alive long enough.

With that idea set in stone and away from Katsuki and All Might's knowledge because they don't need to know, John continues hauling from his non-specified pile, the echoes of Katsuki's range of angry clamors and occasional explosions serving as background noise.

This is going to be the longest ten months of his life.

~

It's four months into their training/community service when Katsuki approaches him.

"Oi, Deku."

John looks up from the lunchbox All Might had unexpectedly prepared for them to find Katsuki, in all his grimy and perspiring glory, peering down at him with an odd expression on his face.

"What?"

"You're going to the Hero course with me."

Like a minefield, Katsuki's metaphorical bomb of a declaration comes out of nowhere. But John is used to those, so he returns to eating his lunch as he calmly says, "No."

And like before in the classroom all those months ago, Katsuki reacts with a confused/angry noise leaving his lips. "Why the f*ck not?!"

"I'm not going for the Hero course."

"I'm gonna need a lot more than that, dickhe*d."

Ignoring that familiar wave of emotion whenever he deals with a probingKatsuki, John responds, unfazed, "I'm going for Gen Ed."

Katsuki grouses, "f*ckingwhy?"

"I don't—"

"You don't wanna be a f*cking hero, yeah, fine, I gotthat," the blond gripes with a heavy sigh, crossing his arms and later dropping on the bench beside him.

John lets him have his little pout fest for a while. He doesn't mention the fact that the blond teen told John specifically that he didn't care which department he ended up in, just as long as he attended UA. Instead, he waits for exactly three minutes, eating a piece of egg in the meantime, until he asks, not glancing at Katsuki but towards the horizon, where the sea has started to become a bit more visible due to the decreasing pile of trash, "What is it?"

"...It'll be annoying as f*ck if you went to Gen Ed," is Katsuki's answer. "You have the skills and sh*t to beat up villains. You've saved a lot of people. Hell, even the f*ckingpolicelike you."

"No, they don't."

"More than that," Katsuki ignores him. "You got bigger balls than those f*cking heroes with the sludge villain bullsh*t, so it'd make more sense if you went to the Hero course. Plus, you're the only one who can f*cking go toe to toe with me without being a sh*t coward, Deku."

Silence permeates the air between them as John lets the boy's answer sink in. To put it short, Katsuki just wants a rival. Either that, or he still wants to "keep an eye on him" in case he starts trouble. It's a bit of a ridiculous thought given that John only involves himself in it, not ignite it.

Still, going to the Hero course was not a part of his objectives. Going to UA is one thing, but attending it to become a Pro Hero is another matter entirely. He doesn'twantto be people like All Might or learn to be like them like Katsuki. And yet...

("I know you said you don't want to be one, but I think you'd make a great hero, Midoriya.")

("You've been helping a lot of people these past few years, Deku. That's what a hero does.")

("I just found him to be a worthy successor of my Quirk because of his heroic spirit and heart.")

And yet there are moments like this, giving John the impression that he has no choice in the matter.

"I'll think about it," he eventually sighs, having accepted that this path is inescapable, no matter how many u-turns he takes to get away from it. Besides, struggling in quicksand will only make you sink faster.

"f*ckingawesome."He can practically hear the smirk in Katsuki's reply, but he ignores that as he packs away his lunch, and proceeds to clean up his half of the garbage beach, allowing the feeling that he made a horrible decision to wash over him until it vanishes into the glistening sand.

~

John researches UA thoroughly, close to five months into his "training" with Katsuki and All Might.

It's not that difficult to find the official website, but it is a little overwhelming seeing its contents, organized in plenty of links and sections. Though, considering it's by all accounts one of the most prestigious schools in the country, he's not surprised.

The information on the school's website is pretty straightforward if a little theatrical with its opening statements. Apparently, it started accepting Quirkless applicants ten years ago, so there's one problem resolved.

He carefully reads the most important info on the main page before delving into the courses the school offers.

The Heroics department is unmistakably the main program of the school, with branching areas ranging from Rescue to Underground heroics (the latter seems promising, but he'll get to that later).

The standard subjects are still in the curriculum, with the addition of Hero Fundamentals and training into the schedule (it feels so jarringly familiar to read but he keeps that thought away in a box for later).

There are also classes in handling weapons such as guns and knives among others (too, too familiar), but only for the second year and unless you sign the needed papers saying you require the training during your first year. John files that information away for now.

The General Education department is pretty much just a regular course with the main subjects, as per the department's name. According to the description, it's where applicants who didn't pass the practical entrance exam end up, and where applicants who don't want to be a hero attend just for the high school education.

John would have decided to go here if it wasn't for the fact that Katsuki will give him even more grief and explosive tantrums for the decision, and he honestly doesn't want to deal with that.

The Business department is as it says on the tin, offering courses in the advertisem*nt of heroes and their merchandise. Well, this explains the number of posters and toys of the Pro Heroes here (All Might especially). Definitely not John's forte, though.

Lastly is the Support department, where it offers classes in support item development, costume design, and analysis. Aurelio (and perhaps even the Sommelier) would've loved attending this one if he were in John's situation, but as it stands, he isn't. (And John will admit, that thought sits heavily in his stomach, but he pushes it away.)

After poring over the rest of the information on the website (he raised a brow at a particular passage that the practical entrance exam uses robots rather than people) John releases a faint, exhausted breath, closing his laptop and massaging his eyes.

So far, he has two options.

The Heroics department and the General Education one. If he chooses the latter, his explosive friend will quite literally explode in his face and demand he goes with him to the Hero course instead. If he chooses the former, John will practically launch his plans to be a regular citizen with a normal life out into space and risk being thrown back into a world where death is always near.

It doesn't hurt to look at the bright side of things sometimes, honey, Mom would tell him.

Hm.

He taps his fingers in a random tempo on his desk, stealing a glance at UA's brochure that All Might had given to him and Katsuki a few weeks ago.

If hedoesend up in the Hero course and becomes a...Pro Hero,then at least he has a stable job in the future. A job that's fairly apposite to what John is capable of. He's not even sure if he has any hobbies outside of stopping crooks and shady people from assaulting other innocent bystanders that can be lucrative.

(Plus, maybe he'll make a friend or two as Tsukauchi suggested. Or not. He's not exactly goodat making friends, and he doubts that anyone—barring Katsuki— would be willing to befriend a Quirkless kid, as society showed him already.)

He might not like it. He might not enjoy the journey All Might and many other heroes have taken. He might return to that dark place again if he slips up, and it'll be a manhunt for his head all over again.

But, well... He's just going to have to wait and see.

In the midst of his backup-plan brainstorming, he hears Mom call for him outside the door, "Izuku, dear, could you run by the store for me, please? I'm running low on a few ingredients for dinner."

"Sure."

~

Hitoshi was only just finding good cat sweaters for Udon and Ramen to try because the weather was nice.

How in the hell did it turn to sh*t so quickly?

Oh, right, he probably disrespected some ancient god in his past life, and now, karma's coming back to bite him in the ass for such transgressions. Or maybe he just forgot the fact that his old school was around the local shopping district he's currently at and familiar faces just happened to be in the area and managed to spot him.

Coincidentally. Yeah, that mightbe it.

(The Dads are so gonna mother-hen him like crazy if they find out about this, but only if Hitoshi tells them. Which he won't.)

"You thought you could get away scot-free, villain?"

An old face from his old school whose name Hitoshi can't bother to remember pins him against the wall of an alley (alleys. Why is it always alleys? Why can't it be like, an old warehouse or an abandoned pier or something?) with a hand clenched around the front of his jacket (at least it's his least favorite one). The other old faces with names he doesn't recall surround him on both sides, eyes sharp and sneering down at him.

Well, kinda. Hitoshi grew a couple of inches in the past year or two, so he's pretty level with them—

A punch to the gut stops his stupid thoughts from distracting him with today's little problem.

"Oi, oi, you thought you could ignore us too, huh? What, your stupid brain can't remember us?" He feels the hand on his jacket tighten, making it a little hard to breathe through the sudden jolt of pain in his stomach.

And like an idiot, because he had forgotten a few things he learned before and is incorporating the things he picked up as of late into this one unfortunate interaction, Hitoshi snarks before he could even think about it, "Sorry it's just that seeing you made me do a double-take if I was in hell or something."

Another jab to the gut, but then it's followed by a clip to the face. Yep. That's gonna leave a mark.

"You really got a lotta nerve, brainwashing bitch."

Wow, how original.

Hitoshi eventually just succumbs to the familiar shield of numbness, a shield he didn't think he'd need again so soon, but that's life, he figures, as the three stooges take a turn in walloping him in the alley where there aren't any witnesses. Huh, no wonder creeps like alleys so much.

In the midst of it all, as he absently covers his head because that's themost important thing to do when being walloped like a co*ckroach, Hitoshi mentally apologizes to the Dads for the amount of bullsh*t he'll undoubtedly spill just so they won't go off on a little hunting spree. Because y'know. That's illegal. And Dad and Pops are morally bound not to do anything illegal such as but not limited to murder. Especially when it's aimed at children who have apparently "disrespected our boy". (Pops' words, not Hitoshi's).

That wouldn't be very cash money of them—

And then, the beatings stop completely for some reason. Next thing he knows, Hitoshi hears the sounds of people getting their asses handed to them.

"Hey, what are you—ack!"

"Yoshimi—ugh!"

"You're gonna pay for that, you—argh!"

Hitoshi, now realizing that he's on the floor (ew, alley water), slowly pries his eyes open, his body pretty much feeling like a canvas of bruises and scrapes galore as he eases himself into sitting. When focus comes to him, well...

Either he's concussed, or he's seeing the kid who beat the sh*t out of that robber with an umbrella a few years ago beating the sh*t out of his old bullies with the grace of a vengeful green swan.

What the f*ck.

The main bully—Yoshimi? Yeah, Yoshimi—tries to land a lucky hit on Corner Store Kid from behind, but he makes the mistake of announcing his arrival with a yell (what is he trying to be, an anime protagonist or something?), and the green-haired boy easily side-steps and grabs his arm, pulling him along to shove him on top of the other two goons on the ground.

What the f*ck.

Yoshimi and Co. all groan in pain, with Corner Store Kid eyeing them all like some kind of warden of ancient times, and it's probably why Hitoshi doesn't feel terrified for his life. Because that stony glare isn't aimed at him.

Eventually, Yoshimi and Co. get up, sporting fresh, red marks on their faces as if they simply just got slapped around like crazy. If Hitoshi wasn't so dazed from the pain, he might've laughed. As it is, he can't, but he does in spirit. "You're gonna f*cking pay for that!" Goon #1 hisses.

"Yeah, you think your foresight Quirk's tough sh*t, huh?" Goon #2 adds with misplaced co*ckiness because...duh,who is it that slugged them to the ground first?

For a moment, it's eerily quiet, save for the bustling noise of people from a distance. Hitoshi can feel the air becoming slightly colder, but that's probably just him. Until...

"I don't have a Quirk."

Holy. f*cking.sh*t.

Dad'ssogonna adore this kid, he can feel it, but Hitoshi is fortunate to be the first one to mentally declare himself as Corner Store Kid's number one fan the first time.

Even after being flung literally to the ground just minutes ago with Hitoshi as a witness, Yoshimi cackles haughtily because he's an idiot, apparently, "A Quirkless chump, huh? Well, looks like we have a chance, after all, guys."

Seriously, what an idiot.

The three of them go on to charge at Corner Store Kid again, but it was over with the green-haired boy evading like a natural and scoring some effective maneuvers until they all go down once more. And it's the most awesome thing Hitoshi's seen ever, probably second to seeing Dad socking his old foster dad in the face in self-defense.

Hitoshi is attempting to stand (ow, bruised rib) when one of Yoshimi's goons later gasp. "Wait a minute...you look familiar."

Oh?

The other goon sucks in a sharp breath as well. "Holy sh*t, you're- you're the Viridian Devil!"

The Viridian what now?

Corner Store Kid doesn't seem fazed, though. His eyes are narrowed, brows lowered to give him the look of a patient predator, perception locked onto his prey. So f*cking cool.

Yoshimi soon chokes, "The f*ckingwhat?"

"We gotta scram, man!"

"That guy's gonna kill us, comeon!"

And just like that, Yoshimi and Co. scramble to escape, knocking against each other in the process, but ultimately, they leave the alley, the two nameless lackeys whose names Hitoshi won't even attempt remembering dragging Yoshimi with them. Whether or not they're running to tell a cop or a hero doesn't catch Hitoshi's attention. What does catch his attention is Corner Store Kid—or as those guys called him, theViridian Devil,which is a pretty sick name, in his opinion—dusting himself off before turning to Hitoshi.

"You okay?"

For a split second, Hitoshi blue-screens, his limited knowledge on how to interact with people not feeding his brain properly, but he eventually manages a, "Yeah." It's a total lie, but it's basically a honed skill for him. A skill that Dad and Pops are trying to help him mitigate, but old habits die hard.

"Are you sure?"

"Yep."

"…Alright," Corner Store Kid doesn't look convinced, but Hitoshi could hardly care about that. What he does care about is the fact that…he doesn't know the other boy's name. And he's not saying that to be creepy or weird, he just wants to know the kid's name because it feels a little mean just calling him "Corner Store Kid", even if it's just in his head. Because he helped him and all.

When Hitoshi gains more of his bearings and can stand on his own with a bit of a wince at the effort (he hopes he protected his face enough), Corner Store Kid gives him a once-over before he asks, "Will you be okay walking on your own?"

Hitoshi startles a little before he quickly composes himself, "Yeah, I can just call one of my dads. Or my aunt. Thanks."

"Sure." Then...Corner Store Kid goes on to pick up a few plastic bags from the floor a few ways away, no doubt going home.

And Hitoshi still hasn't gotten his name yet.

"Hey, wait!"

Hitoshi didn't know what came over him when he reached out, but he's somewhat surprised that the other didstop and wait, turning to him and regarding him with neutral green eyes.

"I, uh," Hitoshi goes for it, but he starts as a nervous wreck as if he's talking to a crush or something. But he pulls through with it when he sees that Corner Store Kid isn't judging him. Outwardly, that is. "What's—" He almost, almostbites his tongue at the question, more out of habit than anything else. Asking questions these days has been less...painful, and Pops told him that it'sokayto ask questions.

It's a part of navigating this crazy game called life, and Hitoshi simply wants to navigate it easier as well. "What's your name?"

An awkward start, but a start nonetheless!

Corner Store Kid blinks, expression unchanging. "Midoriya Izuku."

Huh. Now that's a peculiar name. But fitting. Green hair, green eyes.

Hitoshi then replies, thinking giving his name too would be fine. "Aiyama Hitoshi."

The kid nods, adjusting his grip on the plastic bags. Hitoshi knows he should just let him go home, that wayhecan go home and likely risk his parents finding out why he's limping or favoring his side a little, but somehow, a spirit of some kind just straight up possesses Hitoshi to ask, "Can I get your number?"

f*cking superb, you awkward insomniac.

When Corner Store—Midoriya,blinks again, Hitoshi f*cking scrambles his mental cabinets for a reasonable explanation.

"You see, I was just, uh, wondering if- y'know, if you'd be up for..." Come on, brain, just function like any normal organ! "If you'd be okay teaching me those moves you did earlier?" Smooth. "I dunno, it's fine if you don't wanna, I was just- I just got, uh, curious. And your moves were seriously cool, so, um, yeah." Realsmooth.

While Dad has been teaching him how to properly defend himself against others, Hitoshi never quite knew what it'd be like if someone his age taught him how. Like a change in perspective. So he crosses his fingers and hopes for the best,

The quietness returns but it's quickly broken by Midoriya nodding again, "Sure."

Aiyama Hitoshi wins at socialization once more!

Containing his budding excitement over making a new friend (eh, "friend" is probably too soon, but what the hell does he know?) with that friend being one of his inspirations to become a hero, Hitoshi fishes out his phone (thankfully undamaged).

After exchanging numbers, they both decide to walk out of the alley together. The sky's now a cool shade of purples and pinks, with some oranges and yellows, and Hitoshi has to remind himself that he's only been out for an hour, not enough time to get Dad or Pops (if he's home) worried and start a search party for him.

Turning to Midoriya, who only had just begun walking in the opposite direction, Hitoshi says, "I'll, uh...see you around?"

Midoriya pauses in his step, turning his head just slightly enough for him to notice the short bob of his head, "See you around," before resuming.

Hitoshi, meanwhile, watches the other boy's back getting smaller and smaller until he can no longer see him. A stray cat passes by his feet. Right, right, cat sweaters... Eh, he'll find better ones next time.

He has alothe wants to tell Dad.

~

The sight of Tsukauchi slumped completely over his desk as if his soul just got sucked out of his body isn't anything new. Shouta has seen different phases of the detective, the most frequent of the bunch being Complete Exhaustion. Relatable.

"Thanks for coming, Eraserhead."

It's also no surprise that the guy knows Shouta's here. It's like he has a built-in sensor or something.

"Mm." He takes a seat on the chair. "What did you need me for?"

With a breath, Tsukauchi rises from slumping over his desk and gets to business. Except, it isn't actually business, but more of the detective utilizing his contacts for his benefit because the man slides a cup of coffee fresh from the pot towards Shouta's direction. There's a reason Shouta tolerates him way better than most flashy heroes. The guy can be cunning when he wants to.

"Just be a listening ear," Tsukauchi replies with a faint impression of a tired grin on his face. "I'd ask Sansa, but he knows who I'm gonna be talking about anyway, and I'd like for someone who doesn't know to just listen to me ramble rather than make fun of me at my expense."

"Who?" Shouta isn't one to be concerned over something like this, but with the way Tsukauchi is nursing his own cup of coffee as if he's about to tell some long, forgotten tale, he's admittedly becoming a bit curious.

"I'd rather not say their name since I have a hunch you'll meet them eventually, and I don't want my opinions to shape your judgment."

"I don't let opinions shape my judgment, Tsukauchi," Shouta says because the detectiveknowsthat about him.

"Yeah, yeah," the man waves a hand and then uses it to rub his face, a sign that he's preparing to air out whatever's gotten him this exhausted. Probably a vigilante or two, who knows. "It's about this kid."

Oh no, it's about this kid.

"For the past few years, I've been seeing them in areas where small crimes happen, such as a store robbery for example," he starts. "And the thing is," he chuckles and it's a familiar sound of exhaustion and hysterical exasperation all at once. Poor guy. "The kid's the one who takes care of those before the police could handle it."

Hm.

Shouta sips his coffee. Tsukauchi continues.

"And I know what you're thinking,that's vigilantism,but it technicallyisn't,because the kid is, well... They don't have a Quirk, to begin with."

Ah.

Shouta takes another long sip, mulling over this kid who's apparently able to handle small crimes efficiently, especially without a Quirk. Do they know about the loophole in the Vigilante laws? Probably, if what Tsukauchi says about meeting them for the past few years is true. But he's not going to overthink it, he's just here to be a listening ear. Even though he'd much rather spend the remaining hours before his patrol napping.

"Unlike some teenagers and young vigilantes I'd meet, the kid is surprisingly civil whenever I ask them to come down here for more questioning and clarification. They don't complain, they don't deflect; hell, they answered all of my questions without being sarcastic or trying to lie despite my Quirk."

Another swig of coffee.

"Sure sounds like a decent kid." And he says that as a high school teacher. He had decent students before, but this year, he got a cluster of overconfident brats who think being heroes is all about glamour and looking good for the camera, so he did the most logical thing and expelled all of them. He'll re-enroll them soon anyway, as per Nedzu's request, but he's gonna enjoy this one year away from being a homeroom teacher.

But that's not relevant to this conversation.

Tsukauchi sighs, "They are. They have a good head on their shoulders, they really do, it's just... I tried to get them to notbe involved. You know, let the police and heroes handle it. Or at the very least, call for help first before doing anything extreme."

Shouta nods in solidarity because he's had one student before who would that, jumping in on a problem at a moment's notice. He's got a good head on his shoulders, but sometimes he can be just too reckless. But he's a second-year now, and he's learned a few things, so hopefully, this kid that Tsukauchi's talking about could improve too.

"Jeez, I remember this one time he got kidnapped again—"Again?"—and it ended up being resolved in less than a few hours, it was crazy," Tsukauchi recalls, and there's a nostalgic kind of smirk on his face as he massages his temple, not at all noticing Shouta's internal dilemma that this kid has somehow been kidnapped before but it is, apparently,a common occurrence. Common enough that Tsukauchi isn't thatbotheredabout it.

"You should've been there, Eraser," Tsukauchi says with a small quirk of his lips. "The guys at the station couldn't believe it, but I was there, and I saw it all go down in the daylight."

Tsukauchi takes a sip of his coffee before he relays what Shouta personally thinks is a joke but the fact that the detective sounds serious about it changes his mind.

"I saw that kid take down four men in an apartment building with a lawn chair."

What.

"I know, it's crazy, but you know I suck at telling fake stories," Tsukauchi points out with an incredulous but amused huff. "When we took those guys in, they looked like they've been run over by a speeding truck. We thought that maybe someone else was kidnapped and had a strong Quirk but lo and behold, it was just a teenager holding a lawn chair."

Shouta has heard plenty of exaggerated tales before from plenty of people with a range of imagination. Some of them were more believable than others. This one, though, sounded too good to be true.

But this is Tsukauchi Naomasa, the guy who sucks at faking stories no matter the day, and if what he's saying is true, then by god, he hopes this kid isn't seeking out trouble intentionally nowadays.

Otherwise, Tsukauchi will get ulcers, based on the fact he sounded like the lawn chair event wasn't the first he's seen of this kid.

"Then there's another incident with them, and it started around a few months ago," Tsukauchi says, rising from his seat and heading over to the bookshelf behind his desk, where he pulls out a thick green ring binder with a label, "V.D."

He doesn't know what or who V.D. is, but he has a hunch that Tsukauchi will explain. And Shouta will probably gain a headache out of it.

"There was a villain rampage in a local shopping district in downtown Musutafu, a sludge villain."

"Yeah, saw the news, but only the aftermath of it," Shouta comments, having a slight idea of how this will go. "What about him?"

The exasperated look on the detective's face is still there when he answers, "Well, believe it or not, the kid was present at the time. And witness reports state that they just rushed in there to help the victim involved even though Pro Heroes are on the scene."

Ah, so this kid is that kind of problem child, then. No wonder Tsukauchi looks ready to sleep for the next century. Shouta can understand that.

"And, by all accounts, they got on top of the villain and managed to subdue him with a pencil."

A f*cking what.

"A freaking pencil, Eraser," Tsukauchi repeats with a dry chuckle, rubbing a hand tiredly down his face, although he still has that grin plastered on it. Oh, he's attached. Figures. The guy always was soft on the well-meaning troublemakers, especially those who aren't being difficult in following directions.

"It was so ridiculous when the reports came in, yet- yet I knowthat if there's anybody crazy enough to pull it off, it'd be the kid."

Jeez, this one sounds quite a handful now. If this keeps up, the poor detective will unquestionably retire before 40.

Shouta nurses his coffee, letting all the information sink in, and he has to admit, Tsukauchi's doing a good job so far keeping it together whilst keeping track of this trouble-magnet of a child. He should know, he's handled far worse trouble-magnets in his career as a teacher and as a Pro Hero.

"Is that what's bothering you right now?" Shouta goes on to ask, because looking at the man now, he's certain there's more to this informal meeting than just hearing him ramble.

Tsukauchi blinks, seemingly surprised, but he huffs lightly, "Nothing gets past you, huh?"

"I'm an underground hero, I don't letanythingget past me if I could help it."

"Of course, you don't."

There's a transient minute of silence, with Shouta listening to the background noise of officers and staff bustling outside the office before the detective sighs, "I know it's not much to go on, but I have a hunch this kid's gonna be at UA next year."

Oh, joy.

"'S that so?"

"Yeah. I suggested they'd go actually. I thought it'd be a good idea at the time since they...don't seem to have that many friends in the first place aside from one. And, I'm hoping that UA would be a good place for them. At least they'll learn how to tone down their tendency to get into trouble once they're there."

And that Shouta can acknowledge. UA has a reputation for helping students in cultivating and improving their capabilities while mitigating their bad habits for their sake and others. While Shouta won't promise to oversee this kid's progress since he's not even sure if they'll even be in the Hero course, he does hope that they'll stop giving Tsukauchi near aneurysms with their stunts.

Shouta sips the remaining drops of his coffee. "I see. Do you...I dunno, want me to watch him?" He won't admit this even under pain of coffee deprivation, but he's now fairly interested to see who this trouble-magnet is and how well they can handle themselves.

"Well, I mean, I don't want you to do anything out of obligation or anything, Eraser," the detective insists, but Shouta waves a hand dismissively.

"It's fine. I'm used to dealing with Problem Children. What's one more?"

Then, he hears the familiar chime of his pager. Ugh, right. While he's free from teaching duties, he still has patrol to get to. Putting down the empty mug on the desk, Shouta rises from his spot, feeling the pops in his joints (god, he's notthatold to have aching joints, whatever the hell Hizashi or his own kid jokes about sometimes). "I gotta go. I'll be sure to keep an eye out for your kid."

"Thanks, Eraserhead."

Shouta grunts. It's honestly the least he can do for the guy; the man always seemed to be swamped with a lot of paperwork. And even though Shouta can be a bit of a hardass, he's not needlessly vicious to leave a struggling man to handle the load by himself. Just before he reaches the door, he hears his colleague call for him, making him pause.

"And Eraser?"

He turns back to meet Tsukauchi's eyes.

"Just..." Tsukauchi leans forward on his desk, supporting his head with a hand. "When you see them, make sure they don't do anything too drastic. As I said, they're a good kid, they just need some guidance sometimes."

"Right."

As Shouta leaves the precinct, he thinks about the discussion, about this unnamed kid who knows how to fight even in the most unconventional of ways (fighting villains with just a pencil, who the f*ck can do that?), and he tamps down the urge to find out who they are.

It's not exactly his problem. There's nothing to be gained from learning their name, anyway, and at the end of the day, Shouta is simply offering his assistance to the one who's actually connected to the kid.

But still, he finds himself a little thrilled (and maybe just a tad exasperated through osmosis).

He shouldn't get his hopes up, he knows this; who knows, the kid could probably end up in the Business department or something and Shouta wouldn't know.

Yet he can't help the prospect of watching over a young kid who has no doubt been dealt bad cards in life but still manages to push through it and come out a little bit stronger.(Shouta was once that kid too. But he's a hero now, and he came out a little bit stronger.)

Shouta honestly can't wait to see what they'll do, even at the expense of him getting plenty of migraines and gray hairs.

After all, he has a bit of a soft spot for the underdogs.

edit: I made a fic cover!!! :D and shameless plug, here's my tumblr!

Chapter 7: through adversity

Chapter Text

The beach is pristine by the tenth month, in the early morning of the entrance exams.

It's almost a surprise, seeing how the sand glistens in the sun and how clear the sea looks from his spot on the high wall surrounding the beach, but John is glad there's no garbage anymore.

(Helen would've loved coming here.)

The air is fresher now as well, leaning more on the subtle scent of sea spray and nature rather than the unbearable stench of garbage and rusty components, and John takes a quiet breath in, his muscles easing just a bit even with the soreness that lingers. He's already used to the sensation anyway.

Ten months. They cleaned an entire beach in ten months.

Between training by himself, training with his new acquaintance, studying, and keeping shady strangers from provoking other civilians, John is rather astounded how he managed to clean up everything in the end. Just in time for the exams too.

Beside him, on top of the final pile of garbage they stacked for the truck to collect, Katsuki yells into the sky, and it's not one of rage or vexation, but of accomplishment and euphoria. John feels the same way, albeit it's a warm hum in his chest, a foreign little thing that came out of nowhere for him to acknowledge.

It's been quite a long time since he's felt this...proud of himself.

The only time he's ever felt this way was when he had been ten and managed to learn how to shoot a target's center. Neither the Director nor his trainers ever expressed their pride in him with that, though, so he didn't bother expressing it himself in later years. Until now, that is.

It's a strange feeling.

"Well done, you two!" All Might arrives in his car, deflated in the emaciated form of Yagi Toshinori, but John can see the pride in the man's eyes as he smiles, approaching them. "Your efforts certainly have paid off!"

"You're damn right they have!" Katsuki roars triumphantly, jumping from his perch using short bursts of his explosions to slow his descent until he's there by John's side, grinning widely and wiping away the sweat coating his forehead.

John just nods shortly.

He had seen the physical improvements this morning before he left, and though he doesn't particularly like looking at himself in the mirror for long beyond brushing his teeth and cleaning the glass as per his chores, he will admit that the change is noticeable.

His muscles are a lot more built, appropriate for a fifteen-year-old teen to have, and with such limited time to work with. He grew a bit taller as well, but not as tall as Katsuki, who has a few feet on him. (He blatantly ignored Katsuki's teasings over being taller than him when the blond discovered the fact, primarily because it didn't matter to him. John has dealt with much bigger opponents before to kick up a fuss over height differences.)

Another difference with Katsuki is that his own muscles are slightly more defined, the arms and shoulders being rather robust. He must have had his own private training then, specifically with his Quirk. Good for him.

"I must say," Yagi begins, turning his sunken-eyed gaze at the newly unsoiled beach, "I've never seen this place look as beautiful as it does now. You both have truly outdone yourselves."

Katsuki waves the man off, although John can see an inflated ego when he sees it. But he won't comment on it like usual. The blond can have this moment of gratification, at least. "We don't do sh*t halfway, All Might. That's not our style."

Yagi laughs merrily, and it sounds a lot more genuine than when he does it as All Might, "I can see that! You've definitely taken the Plus Ultra spirit to heart!"

While John is still unsure why such a phrase is so beloved in this world (even after reading the summary of its origins and its attachment to the image of UA), he takes it as is, and nods again.

Shortly after, Yagi tells them that he'll be one of the judges for the practical exam, a fact that doesn't really change anything for John, but Katsuki seems bolstered by the revelation. Knowing him, he's probably looking forward to impressing the hero again, this time with the usage of his Quirk. That or Katsuki is just excited All Might will be watching the practical.

Who knows.

"Young Midoriya, you've already requested the school-issued support items beforehand, right?" Yagi asks, and John confirms it with a dip of his head.

May it never be assumed that John goes into things unprepared.

He had the foresight to check the requirements in regards to the entrance exams on the school website and found one section that stated that an applicant may bring their own support items or inventions.

Another option is to requisition specific tools offered by the school, the list of available items already given on the site (obviously, no guns are listed, but he always managed to make do without them anyway). John has yet to know how the support items are made as well as how they function in full detail, so appealing for tools supplied by UA is the next best alternative.

In a worst-case scenario, if the items somehow stopped being functional, he could always improvise and use the remains of the destroyed robots.

(He does wish he won't get caught up in some kind of explosion in the process, though. That's an unpleasant experience he doesn't want to relive again.)

"Excellent!" Yagi says with a grin. "I know you two don't need to hear this from me, but I wish you both good luck in the exams! It'll be a challenge for sure but—"

"But nothing, we've got this sh*t in the bag!" Katsuki interjects, still in a high of their accomplishment as he cracks his knuckles and John resists rolling his eyes at the display.

Although he wouldn't be opposed if he failed the practical exam and got into the General Education department instead, John is profoundly aware he wouldn't hear the end of it from the explosive blond, so like it or not, he will have to do his best.

("You are the best of them all, Jardani, so you must uphold that standard.")

He can make backup plans for a garden-variety life some other time.

Later, they go on their separate ways, with Yagi heading over to the school, and John and Katsuki heading to their respective homes to clean themselves up and be ready for the day.

And John thoroughly doesn't think of how this is beginning to feel similar to his "convocation" from the Ruska Roma because it isn't. He's not going to be given a trial mission to see if he's competent enough to graduate from its walls. He's not going to fire his first shot from a distance.

He's just taking a high school entrance exam. It's just an exam.

("Your final exam will be the kingpin of the rising Sonin mob, their territory located in New Jersey, so be prepared for your flight.")

"Oi, Deku."

Just as he was about to take a right at the intersection of their neighborhood, John glances back to find Katsuki observing him with a familiar gaze, narrowed, but not venomous. Stubborn, but not callous. A challenge from an equal rather than something born out of hostility and ill-temper.

"Don't f*cking forget, alright?"

("I'm gonna blow the entrance exam out of the f*cking water, Deku, so don't half-ass it either".)

"Yeah." And that is a promise.

~

Mom is a little (a lot) teary-eyed when she sees him off at the entrance hall of their apartment, a sight that John is used to and knows how to handle by letting her hold him in her tight, motherly hug.

This time, he lets himself hug her back completely, his arms enveloping her back delicately rather than his hands simply patting her arms. She deserves better than that, especially after supporting him in his training this whole time.

(He's grown taller than her, he notices. And she's grown rather plump too, but he won't comment on it.)

"Be careful, and do your best, alright?" She asks of him when she lets go, her lips wobbly as she offers him an encouraging grin. "I'll be cheering for you, Izuku!"

(He likes to think that Helen is cheering for him too, wherever she is.)

John doesn't quite smile like her. He can barely remember how nowadays without it feeling fake on his lips, but he softens his features as best as he can when he nods in Mom's direction. "Thanks."

And then, he's out the door.

~

John isn't quite sure how to respond to this, even after spending the past few months getting acquainted with Aiyama Hitoshi, a kid he somehow managed to befriend months before, but he figures the generic reassurances will be fine. Maybe.

"Is Eyebags there already?"

John looks up from his phone to see Katsuki looking quite annoyed beside him, but that's just his usual face. Especially when Hitoshi is concerned. "Yeah."

"Tch. Figures," the other boy scoffs lightly, but even John can tell there's nothing inherently choleric in his words. "Well, it doesn't matter. I'm gonna beat that insomniac bitch in the exams first and rub it in hisface!"

"It's just an exam, Katsuki."

"Shut up."

He does, mostly because he's already accustomed to this rivaling song and dance between his two acquaintances who somehow have a lot in common yet get along like oil and water to bother interfering with it. It's not exactly his problem to deal with unless they drag him into one of their little competitions, to which he simply evades and just leaves them be to resolve things on their own. (In hindsight, perhaps it was a bit of a bad idea to let them meet.)

So John sits in silence as the train takes them to their destination, occasionally complying with Katsuki's demands for a short review of the material they'll be encountering in the paper exam.

Then the train stops gradually with a low hiss, the automatic voice in the speakers announcing their stop, and John and Katsuki leave the car, not once separating from each other even with the wave of students and civilians filing out of it.

Eventually, the wave parts into different directions, leaving only students to amble up the hill to the school that sits on top of it, overlooking the city like some kind of fortress.

And frankly, John didn't know what else he expected.

Imagination and guesstimating its height based on official photos is one thing, but seeing it in person is another. The main building is exceptionally enormous, almost reaching up towards the sky, its windows reflecting the blue color and the clouds with great clarity.

This place could probably rival the Ruska Roma and Winston's hotel in size and resources alone, but that's a thought to ponder over once the exams are done. (A thought that he decidedly will ignore.)

"So, you've finally made it."

John hears Hitoshi drawl before he feels an arm wrap around his shoulder from behind, the same goes with Katsuki judging from his indignant squawk. He tilts his head to see the lazy smirk plastered on Hitoshi's face, but he can also note the nervousness beneath the calm exterior he usually possesses.

Maybe they should work on that instead of John's comforting skills. "Yeah."

"Get the f*ck off me, dead-eyed bastard!"

"Good morning to you too, squinty."

John is swift enough to block out their rapid-fire exchange of sarcastic wit and irate yelling as he continues on his way, walking ahead rather than getting caught in the crossfire. He also takes to ignoring the stares his group is getting now. He should have packed a set of earplugs ahead of time, but honestly, he's just hoping this argument won't end up in a lot of property damage and a possible trip to a clinic.

For once, the world heeds his wishes.

The noise eventually stops, and it just so happens to be when Hitoshi trips on a crack on the pathway, cutting off his and Katsuki's usual bickering.

"sh*t—!"Hitoshi sputters, and just when John turns to catch him (because he knows Katsuki won't since he's busy laughing), someone's already there to halt his fall, and—

Ah, Hitoshi's floating.

"You alright? I'm sorry for using my Quirk on you!" A girl with distinct pink cheeks (and possible levitation or gravity Quirk) apologizes.

"It's fine," Hitoshi says as John guides him to float in an upright position and the girl touches the pads of her fingers together, consequently letting the taller boy back on solid ground. Interesting. So it's a five-point touch Quirk.

(Would it still work without a finger? Probably. Probably not. John isn't about to ask, though. That'd be strange.)

"Thanks." Hitoshi rubs the back of his neck sheepishly, later shooting the still laughing Katsuki a glare.

The girl smiles (it doesn't look fake),"No problem! It would've been bad luck if you fell."

(John has been thrown to the ground multiple times in different circ*mstances for him to know how much truth there is to that statement.)

"Nah, you should've just let him fall, he'd look less like a f*cking zombie!" Katsuki is in stitches by now, clutching his stomach as he laughs to his ego's delight. And Hitoshi, predictably, doesn't take it without retribution.

"Keep laughing and we'll see if you can attract some hyenas in here."

And so it begins again.

Seeing that things are fine now, John turns back to where the other students are entering, the voices of his two friends (now bickering up a storm of drier sarcasm and even fiery insults) and the girl drifting into a distant murmur the further he goes.

He thinks the girl is wondering out loud why he's leaving, but it doesn't matter. He keeps walking, following the signs and the flow of the students to where he needs to go.

They'll catch up anyway.

~

The paper exams come and go smoothly in a span of three hours. John wasn't exactly confident in a few subjects, but he answered every question to the best of his ability.

(The Director always sought the best in her children, after all. He wasn't an exception.)

He thinks he did well in the science portion of the test, given his private research of everything that had to do with Quirks during the first few years of his new existence. The math and history portions were fine too, as was Japanese literature, even though it took him a while to remember the names of characters and story titles, and central themes.

What did take him longer was the essay portion at the very end of the exam.

Questions about morality, the dichotomy between heroes and villains, personal feelings on this, and that—if he didn't know any better, John might've thought the test packet he was given was made specificallyfor him, to throw him in a loop.

As if there's some kind of supernatural presence among the teachers and the students, a wandering, vengeful ghost (it could be Viggo. Iosef. Cassian. Santino. The Bowery King. The Director. The Adjudicator. Winston. Marcus—) aiming to make his current life a living hell with all the introspection. (Even when he feels he's been doing plenty of that already.)

But he knew, logically, that there isn't anyone like that. At least, to his knowledge.

Those questions were moderately general enough for a bunch of hopeful teenagers to answer, either in lackluster fashion or with some ignited passion to drive them to write their response.

John can't do either of those. It's almost in his nature not to half-ass things, yet he's not at all passionate about any of the topics prompted. Morality? The contrast between heroes and villains? What kind of hero do you wish to be?

He didn't have a clear answer for any of them. But he wrote anyway. He didn't try to look deep into the pond those questions opened up for him. He didn't overthink it. He just answered to the best of his ability, even when the words he had written felt lacking in the emotional aspect. Even when he wrote them down neither as Midoriya Izuku nor John Wick.

But he figured the ones responsible for checking the tests wouldn't care that much.

As soon as all the test packets are collected by the exam proctor (tall, exposed teeth like a skull, trench coat, leg prosthetics—Ectoplasm, his memory suggests) everyone in the exam hall clambers to leave, some grousing over not being able to answer a few tricky questions and others thinking out loud that they did well.

John ignores them.

Lunch passes by just as quickly. He follows the signs and the movement of students to where the auditorium is, and in the trek, he reunites with Katsuki and Hitoshi, both expressing their thoughts that they did fine (if with a bit of subtle shoving here and there over who finished first).

He doesn't see the gravity girl anywhere, but he suspects she's already on her way to the next room for their practical exam orientation.

And speaking of the orientation...

"WELCOME EVERYBODY!!!"

A walking embodiment of a radio station stands center stage, clad in a neck speaker and leather (that just can'tbe comfortable when it's summer), and with a peculiar hairstyle that gives him the impression of a co*ckatoo. John didn't need a second to recall who this hero is since the man's radio show has always been Mom's favorite to listen to in the evenings, and even if he tried, he couldn't escape seeing the face and hearing the name of Present Mic.

John notices some movement beside him, and when he subtly glances to the side, he discovers Hitoshi hiding a smile behind his hand as he leans his elbows on the long table, his expression akin to one of fond exasperation.

Hm. There's a story there, but he won't poke around it. That's not at all important right now.

"YOU GUYS FIRED UP OR WHAT?! GIMME A YEAH!!!"

They don't give him a 'yeah'.

Present Mic doesn't seem that discouraged by the silence, though. "ANYWHO! I'm gonna give you the rundown of how the practical exam is gonna go, ya dig?! CAN I GET A YEAH?!!!"

He doesn't get a 'yeah'.

And Hitoshi is currently holding back laughs, covering his mouth with both hands and sinking on his seat in an attempt to muffle them further.

"Yeesh, tough crowd," Present Mic whistles but he waves a hand dismissively. "Well, whatevs! Listen well and good, listeners, 'cause this is how it's gonna roll!"

John pays close attention to the instructions, considering each detail carefully, not missing anything. Present Mic explains that the test will run for ten minutes in a mock city where they will have to fight robots (so the websitewasn'tkidding).

Not only that, students from the same school are separated into different areas, which disconcerts Katsuki a little from the way he grumbles under his breath. Lastly, there are four robots in total with designated point values beginning from 1 to 3.

John doesn't get to hear about the last robot and its point value, however, when someone raises their hand.

A squarish teenage boy with glasses stands up and begins to ask about the last robot, and for some reason going off on a small tirade about oversights and how it's an embarrassment to a well-respected school such as UA.

It was relatively fine until it mildly escalates when the same boy whirls around to direct an accusing finger at Hitoshi, who goes rigid on his seat but just as swiftly schools his features into his usual mask of composure and unconcern.

"And you!" The boy with glasses scolds. "If you think this is some funny display based on your laughing earlier, please leave! This is not a game and clearly, you aren't taking this seriously!"

He can already sense the humiliation and annoyance from Hitoshi as his friend lowers his head with crossed arms, as well as the growing temper from Katsuki in heatwaves on his other side, but John is spared from having to give the blond a fast kick to the ankle when Present Mic interrupts, regaining everyone's attention.

"Good observation there, listener! I was just getting to the fourth bot!" The hero gestures to the large screen behind him and a large silhouette of the fourth robot appears, its point value a zero. "As you can see, the last one is worth 0 points! It's pretty huge, though, and can go on a rampage, so you mightwanna avoid that hot mess once you see it."

"Understood, sir! Apologies for the interruption!"

"No sweat, listener! That's pretty much the gist, so all of you funky little dudes suit up and head out to your designated buses!"

And with that, the orientation ends, with Present Mic showing off a grin that John always saw on Katsuki's face whenever they'd spar. "And remember to have the Plus Ultra spirit! Break a leg, everyone!"

John can only hope there won't be any actual bones broken during the exam because that would be very inconvenient and annoying to sit through.

~

They leave the auditorium, voices mingling together into a cacophony. John says his temporary partings with Katsuki ("Don't kill anyone." "Shut the f*ck up, asshole, I know.")and walks with Hitoshi to their bus.

However, he soon remembers that he hasn't received his requested items yet, so he tells Hitoshi to go ahead, intending on finding the administrator's office. Or, wherever it is they keep their support items. Honestly, with how gigantic the school building is, he doubts he'll be able to find it in time for the practical exam to begin. There should be a map around here somewhere, though.

"Midoriya?"

John stops in the middle of the hallway at the gruff voice behind him and he turns to see a tall, scruffy, tired-eyed man with dark unkempt hair, equally dark clothing, and a white scarf.

After scouring his memories, he later realizes that this man must be Eraserhead, an underground hero. Highly skilled, well-known in his network of associates, and incredibly efficient in his work. A probable threat to John Wick, but not to Midoriya Izuku. Maybe.

"Yes," he chooses to say because he knows that underground heroes rely on their anonymity to be able to work efficiently.

Eraserhead pauses, seemingly scanning him, until he gestures to the other side of the hall with his head. "Your application forms stated you requested for school-issued support items, is that right?"

John easily follows. "Yes, sir."

Eraserhead grunts. "Follow me, then."

The silent walk doesn't take more than a minute until they reach a large sliding door. The hero opens it without preamble and John trails after him, noting a few discarded tools and other machinery on workbenches lining the walls. This must be where they make their inventions. Either that, or it could just be some storage unit for things like this.

He stops when Eraserhead does in front of the middle workbench, waiting patiently, even when his body automatically readies itself for an attack that won't come because this is a school for heroes, John, don't lose focus.

Eraserhead holds out a navy blue messenger bag with the school's logo imprinted on the flap. "Here are the tools you requested. Be sure to return at least some of them once the exam is over, alright?"

John accepts the bag without a fuss, like acquiring more guns and knives from the Sommelier (although, the Sommelier would've made a show of displaying his requested artillery). He does a quick check, peeking through the opening and finding himself satisfied with the tools. Hero schools are certainly thorough.

He looks back at Eraserhead and offers a short nod. "Yes, sir. Thank you."

The hero grunts again, wordlessly motioning for them to leave the room. Still unsure of the layout of the school, John follows behind. Perhaps he should review any public maps of the campus after this. It doesn't hurt to be extra thorough before classes start.

"Just follow the signs on the walls to your bus. You know what it is?" They stop at the hallway leading to the auditorium.

John nods again.

"Right. I'll leave you to it." Then, Eraserhead turns back around, likely to where the other exam proctors are.

John does the same, walking down the hall and promptly heading for his designated bus to where it will carry him and many others to the exam site.

To his silent relief, the bus is relatively quiet, save for a few murmurs and soft conversations between the other examinees. Aside from Hitoshi who simply asked what was in the bag, no one else tries to talk to him, which is a bonus.

(He doesn't think about past missions in the duration of the trip. He can't afford to be distracted by the unwanted feeling of reminiscencejust from this alone. This is anexamto enroll into a school, not a missionto eliminate a mafia kingpin who displeased a few people.)

After some time, the bus pulls over to their appointed testing ground, and everyone files out of the vehicle in a buzz, either congregating into groups or by themselves.

"Ah sh*t, I'm getting nervous now," Hitoshi mutters as he shakes out his hands.

John doesn't really glance at him in response, opting to double-check his tools and coming up with a hundred plans on how he should do this. By comparison, dealing with humans is much easier than robots, but John isn't that averse to trying something new. "You'll be fine."

He can already feel the light stink-eye. "You're terrible at being comforting, you know that?"

"Hm."

Later, Hitoshi seems to have spotted the pink-cheeked girl from this morning. He tells John that he'll be right back, presumably to talk to her.

John doesn't mind. He has other things occupying his thoughts, such as strategies, and contingency plans in case he somehow uses up all of his requisitioned items. A familiar motion that he didn't mind falling back into, but then the most prevalent thought marches forth like a headless horseman as he stares at the towering door ahead of him, barely noting the thrum of other students and a certain sense of anticipation pervading the air like static.

How in the hell did I get here?

But he doesn't get to ponder over it and his previous choices that led up to this moment because the doors have opened.

"START!!!"

And John moves.

~

John destroys his first robot after another examinee blasts one with some kind of laser shooting from his stomach.

And apparently, that examinee is also French because he aims a wink at John and says, "Magnifique!"

John graces that with just a bob of his head and grabs a durable piece of metal pipe from the damaged remains before running off to his sighted target. Judging from its single-wheeled design and the large number painted on its arms, it's worth just one point.

But it's better than nothing, he supposes, so he forges ahead, his impromptu weapon in hand.

"Target Lock-On!"

He's quick to use a damaged robot as leverage, mounting it and shortly jumping off it to plunge his weapon from behind the robot, straight through its chest. The thing is surprisingly breakable.

Something bulky and sphere-like is sticking out of the other end of the pole, he realizes. Is it...a heart or something? Best not to think too much about it. Time is too limited for him to ponder over unimportant details.

Deeming his weapon unusable (it's immutably stuck in the bot's chest now) John climbs off his first casualty and decides to nab the sizable object from the pole.

After checking it quickly and thoroughly (it isa "heart", consisted of wires and durable material), he glances at the messenger bag he's carrying and a plan is formed.

He only hopes UA makes their bags as heavy-duty as everything else.

Pocketing the steel balls and small electric disks, and looping the prototype capture binding around his left arm securely, John puts the robotic heart within the bag, finishing off with testing its robustness by giving it an experimental swing. Thankfully, it doesn't tear, which is all the assurance John needs.

He finds two more robots—a 1-Pointer and a 2-Pointer—gunning for him, their red eyes gleaming brightly and dangerously, no doubt ready to attack him, render him useless, kill him—

(And without his permission, the skin of Baba Yaga washes over Midoriya Izuku completely like an unwanted parasite. A parasite he will have to tolerate if John wants Izuku to pass this. He doesn't welcome it warmly. He only refocuses on the task at hand. No distractions.)

Gripping the straps of the bag tightly, he moves with a purpose.

He dodges the enemies' attacks with ease and bashes their heads with his newly acquired weapon, sparing no time to find his next set of points.

He strikes the weaker spots of 1-Pointers with the electric disks, shocking them into powering down.

He plunges acquired poles and sharp rods in 2-Pointers after jumping off walls and broken machines for support.

He gets lucky in getting 3-Pointers to destroy themselves with their lock-on systems and built-in defense mechanisms, using the steel balls as well to trip them up until he has none left.

John also manages to save that French kid ("Merci mon ami!") when it appeared he gained some stomach ache, and a few other examinees from making careless errors, either getting hasty verbal gratitude for his efforts or irate yelling for "stopping them from gaining a point".

John doesn't care for that.

He destroys a couple more villain robots with his worn makeshift weapon. He knows it'll give way eventually, but it hasn't, so he keeps fighting.

He doesn't know what his score is now, but he reckons it's at least higher than ten. Or fifteen. Maybe twenty, if he's feeling generous of himself.

In the mayhem, he finds Hitoshi, visibly exhausted but continues to dodge swipes from the robots and successfully getting the machines to demolish themselves. He's unsure how many points his friend has, but what he does know is that passing this exam is important to Hitoshi.

Plus, no matter how much stamina Hitoshi says he has, there's a limit to how much he can evade, so John swiftly picks up a broken sign pole from the ground and jogs up to his friend, wordlessly handing it to him before running off again. (Absently, he wonders how Katsuki is doing, but he figures he's doing fine. It's Katsuki, after all.)

He fells three more robots before a 2-Pointer stands before him like a dragon from a storybook. And though John doesn't think himself to be a knight in shining armor, he slays it with a fast and heavy swing of his makeshift weapon to the head, narrowly avoiding the robot's initial attack.

It doesn't immediately go down, but it does sputter in sparks, visibly malfunctioning. John dodges another strike from the bot, making its arm stick itself in the asphalt this time.

He takes the chance to rush forward, shouldering the messenger bag and holding the capture binding in both hands.

Without delay, John loops the binding around the 2-Pointer's head and drives it like a metal steed, leading it to crash into many of its brethren until his mount is all but demolished, the binding thankfully not snapping throughout the whole ordeal.

He doesn't leave the scuffle unscathed, though, earning a few cuts and minor singes from the small blasts, but he ignores them and the burning ache in his muscles. He can't let himself rest now. There are still other enemies coming for him, intent to (kill) hinder him.

John doesn't know when it began, but a blaring alarm echoes across the battlefield, like a signal for something big and sinister on the horizon.

(He heard the siren loud and clear, and he took to shelter, hid from copper bullets, hid from imminent death. Others weren't so lucky.)

The ground shakes. Other examinees are screaming, running away. John finds Hitoshi still around, helping fallen and trapped students even when there's a threat looming close by because that's what a hero does, he told John long ago.

(A hero. John isn't a hero.He's just a person doing the sensible thing.)

A gigantic titan of a robot turns a corner, multiple red eyes gleaming as it towers even the highest of buildings in the area, casting a huge shadow over the street as it causes some property damage to the structures with abandon. So this must be the Zero Pointer from the orientation.

UA never holds back on anything, does it?

Present Mic had suggested avoiding it as much as possible, which is understandable advice. John can only imagine the kind of power that could take down something as massive asthat.

The idea of running comes to mind (he kept running, even when his legs burned something fierce and terrible, he kept running, he kept fighting, running from blades and bullets because that's all he knew now) but it's extinguished instantaneously at the shrill cry down the street.

"S-Someone- someone, help!"

John immediately spots someone—the gravity girl—trapped underneath robot corpses and rubble, unable to get them off of her.

No one else comes to her aid. They've all ran away.

But not John.

Unlike back then, when wave upon wave of killers and assassins were gunning for his head and he had no choice but to run, John stays and assesses everything all at once, not wasting a single second to doubt himself.

He still has the robotic heart in his bag. The prototype capture binding is still usable. The Zero Pointer is just a few meters away, far enough from the gravity girl, but still a grave threat. A threat that needs to be eliminated as efficiently as possible.

John doesn't know the inner workings of these villain bots yet, but at this point, he's willing to throw anything together just from his knowledge on incendiaries alone.

With that, he runs towards the girl, not minding the way his legs are on fire from the added exertion.

"You alright?" He asks, kneeling beside her. She tears up as she answers, "Y-Yeah, just- my legs..."

Pinned down, definitely.

The Zero Pointer is close now, whirring and loud. Time is running out. He scrutinizes the robots piled on top of her legs until he finds what he needs. It's reckless of him to do this, he knows that, but right now, he doesn't care. He pulls out the components needed to fire off their artillery from their damaged bodies as well as the mechanical heart from the bag and quickly gets to work.

Luckily, he recognizes most of the parts as soon as he goes to combine them all in some way, so with slightly shaky hands (he added the last piece of the gun)he connects the last wire, seeing the small red light blinking (he had a minute to escape before it went off) and shortly asks, "Your Quirk?" It wouldn't hurt to double-check.

"Z-Zero Gravity," she replies, shaking. "Why—?"

"Can you make this float?" The robot is closer.

The girl looks at him confusedly, but she does reach out to tap it, and John briskly ties it with one end of the capture binding and holding the other end. He looks up at the Zero Pointer, near enough for him to act.

With a spin of the capture binding to build up momentum and speed, John launches the thing at the machine's head, the capture binding along with it (he hopes Eraserhead won't mind, he did tell John to return some of his requested items). He's fast to get the fallen bots off of the girl, and she crawls herself to freedom before he goes to carry her.

How much time is left?

John doesn't know. All he knows is that he's escaping with the girl in his arms, away from the mechanical behemoth in a sprint.

He hears the booming noise before he feels the swell of heat and the force of the explosion from behind him, and he is propelled to the air. (So much for not wanting to be involved in another explosion.)

On instinct, he braces for impact, turning on his back to receive most of it so the girl wouldn't have to. She's injured enough as it is.

But then he feels lighter, somehow. As if he's floating.

Oh, he is.

The gravity girl—

"Gotcha!"

John then senses someone else catching them, the collision of it rattling him slightly. Oh, it's Hitoshi.

"f*cking hell, you're gonna give me a heart attack one of these days, you lunatic," his friend mutters. Should John apologize afterward? He's not sure. And frankly, he's a tad bit exhausted to muse on it. But maybe a trip to their usual corner store could suffice.

Later, once everything is settled down to an extent, a petite elderly woman with a doctor's coat and a peculiar syringe cane comes to check for injuries. Oh, it's Recovery Girl, a healer from what John can remember, and UA's resident nurse.

He gets the old woman to tend to the gravity girl first. Leg injuries aren't pleasant, after all.

Everything then passes in a blur once he sits down, the noises muffled in his ears and the adrenaline rush drained from his system, leaving him just a little adrift in his own body. He thinks Hitoshi asks Recovery Girl to tend to John next. He thinks Hitoshi carried him on his back. He thinks he's settled on something soft, like a bed.

He doesn't think about it too much

He does think about whether or not he has enough points to pass the exam. If he does, then at least now he can put Tsukauchi's concerns for his social life and apparent track record to rest since he's certain the detective will appreciate that.

And if he doesn't? Well, he just hopes Katsuki won't chew his head off for it.

But that's a problem for the future version of himself. He's tired.

~

Midoriya Izuku, the student file says.

Quirkless, it says even louder.

The entire observation room is silent, the teachers gaping at the screens, and Shouta hides a minute smirk underneath his capture weapon.

It's not unheard of to have Quirkless applicants, but most of the time they change their minds about trying for the Hero Course, either transferring to different departments per the advice of family, friends and counselors or backing out altogether and going to regular high schools.

Not this Quirkless applicant, though.

No, this kid is practically blowing the exam out of the water, and that's Shouta's quiet little bias towards the underdogs talking.

"Holy sh*t," Vlad breathes out as they collectively watch the Quirkless middle schooler jump down from a damaged bot's corpse to plunge his acquired metal pole all the way through a 1-Pointer's chest, and what the f*ck, is that the robot's f*cking mechanical heart?

He can hear Maijima choking on his coffee at that ("How in the goddamn f*ck did he do that?!").

The kid quickly climbs down from the now-dead 1-Pointer only to nab the mechanical heart, examining it for a quick second before he...puts it inside the f*cking bag after removing the bag's contents, successfully creating some sort of blunt force weapon akin to a meteor hammer.

Then he moves on to use said blunt force weapon to bash the heads of the other robots, almost poetically ironic in that he's using the heart of a villain bot to kill its brethren without a second thought.

It's a terrifying and majestic thing to witness, actually. Almost.

At least Nedzu seems to enjoy the show, smiling and sipping his tea all the while.

The kid doesn't stop there.

He keeps fighting, destroying bots left and right using the tools he requisitioned as well as his environment to his advantage. His score rises even more when he also begins saving a few injured examinees, earning a few scrapes himself, but he doesn't falter. He even gave Hitoshi a broken street sign pole for him to use as a weapon before rushing off.

(Could Midoriya be the friend Hitoshi's been meeting up with for the past few months? Maybe. They seem to know each other since Hitoshi reacted with relief in his body language. But Shouta will think on that later.)

Shouta watches carefully when Midoriya finally unwinds the prototype capture weapon from his arm and holds it in his left hand with the makeshift weapon clenched tightly in the other, eyeing up another 2-Pointer in front of him.

He knows he should be watching the other applicants (he needs to be impartial, after all) but he can't seem to ignore the Quirkless boy (nor Hitoshi, for that matter, the kid's ranking up his scores as well) for long, anticipation thrumming under his skin as he witnesses the kid trick the robot into pounding the ground instead of him and subsequently bashing it in the head at the opening.

In his peripheral, he can see Hizashi, Nemuri, and the rest of the teachers fidgeting on their seats, likely wanting to get in there and save the boy but Shouta knows it's unneeded. Honestly, wanting to protect those who can't protect themselves is a good quality to have as a hero, but really, they should be at least have a little more faith in this kid's abilities.

He has enough points to pass, after all. Surely that must count for something.

Midoriya catches his attention again when the kid leaps back from a strike from the robot, making its arm hit the pavement and stuck there. Good reflexes, Shouta thinks with a nod.

The boy dashes forward, shouldering his bag, and after securing the prototype capture weapon in his hands, he uses it to steer the damn robot like a mechanized warhorse, leading it to charge at the other bots in the path.

Suffice to say, Shouta is thrilled by this new development. (Even when he can feel the second-hand stress rising from each new stunt.)

"Look at him go!" Snipe whistles and Shouta knows right then that Midoriya Izuku has impressed the staff.

(All Might looks particularly in awe and terrified all at the same time, and while he's a little curious about that kind of reaction, it's none of Shouta's business to pry.)

And then, Nedzu releases the Zero Pointer because he's a mad man.

Shouta can respect that.

It's mildly disappointing to see that all of the examinees are running away, though, but he thinks it's logical to escape a dangerous situation when you can't do anything to stop it and need back up. However, he does notice Hitoshi staying behind to help out a few students who've tripped or stuck under some robots, which is heartening to see. (Shouta will definitely take him to his favorite cat cafe for that. As a treat from a dad to his son.)

"Oh, we got someone trapped down there," Power Loader says, fiddling on his tablet.

The other teachers set their sights on a girl trapped underneath rubble and robot corpses, the girl with the gravity Quirk, his mind supplies. And the Zero Pointer is just close behind.

Shouta doesn't need to see the others to recognize they're concerned, itching to get in there, even though Nedzu has safety precautions in mind for this kind of situation.

The sequence of events that happen next, however, will forever be stamped in their memories.

Because Midoriya Izuku, the underdog among them, runs towards the Zero Pointer's direction without pause nor hesitation.

"The hell is that kid doing?" Vlad mutters.

The boy crouches before the trapped girl, most likely talking to her about her injuries, and after a moment, he pulls out the robotic heart from the bag and then a few things from the destroyed Villain bots. The camera doesn't show what Midoriya is doing, which is a little annoying, but Shouta can hazard a guess. He watches as the kid shows his new creation to the notices how the girl nods, reaching a hand out to tap the object, and Midoriya rises to his feet.

He looks straight up at the massive bot before him. He winds his hand holding the bulky object back and throws.

He doesn't look to see if or where the thing has landed. He just crouches and lifts one robot corpse possibly pinning the girl down, which allows her to crawl out some, then he lifts her in his arms, sprinting like hell away from the robot until-

A giant explosion happens right at the head of the Zero Pointer, and everyone collectively loses their sh*t.

"—What the f*ck?!—"

"—Holy sh*t!—"

"—Where did that come from?!—"

"—Did that kid just throw a bomb?!—"

"—How is that possible?!—"

"—I thought he didn't request a bomb, how—"

Meanwhile, Shouta is still processing the fact that Midoriya defeated a giant f*cking robot, saved somebody, and garnered plenty of Villain and Rescue points.

All without a Quirk.

He can already imagine the Hero Commission and the school board having a grand time with this change in the norm.

Shouta certainly is, because now, Midoriya has made a giant wave in the ocean as the first Quirkles kid to apply to UA's Hero Course and succeed.

(A certain part of his mind tingles, poking at a memory, and Shouta wonders where he's seen or heard of this kid before.)

Nedzu claps his paws together, urging everyone to calm down (to an extent) before he explains, "Midoriya Izuku did not, in fact, request an explosive device. It's quite thrilling, actually, because he made one out of the incendiary components of the 1 and 2-Pointers. A smart young man, he is."

They watch the aftermath.

Apparently, Midoriya and the gravity girl (Uraraka Ochako, as stated from the files Shouta was able to pick out) had been propelled by the force of the blast, and the boy shielded her from the incoming impact on the ground before she used her Quirk on him, and Hitoshi—bless him—managed to arrive in time to catch them both.

They're seen to by Recovery Girl, and the whole room is once again bathed in silence until Nedzu announces with a particular giddiness to his tone, "Everyone, let us welcome the top scorer of our practical exam, and the first Quirkless student to have made an impression and passed with a score of 83 points; Midoriya Izuku."

Shouta allows himself to grin.

~

Somewhere in the school, in an infirmary, the door bursts open.

"WHAT THE f*ck DID EYEBAGS MEAN YOU BLASTED A ROBOT TO HELL WITH YOUR OWN f*ckING BOMB, DEKU?!"

John should've escaped when he had the chance.

Chapter 8: to the stars

Chapter Text

What comes after the exams is the waiting game.

Specifically for the acceptance (or rejection) letter to UA, which, according to his school-related research, takes about a week or so to be distributed to all the applicants.

Throughout the week, between adding things to his analysis notes, familiarizing himself with support items of various heroes, and training by himself, he lets Hitoshi voice his anxiousness in their private chats, listens to Katsuki (angrily) ramble about one thing to another (no doubt a way for him to hide his jittery anticipation) in both texts and calls, and doesn't comment on his mother busying herself around the house to release some of her familiar nervous energy.

He can understand their restlessness, even when he can't relate all that much.

Because John isn't that particularly nervous.

If anything else, he's resigned to any decision the school would come to in regards to his enrollment at UA. And though he complied with Katsuki's demand that he attend the school with him (albeit with slight exasperation on John's part), John is aware that his word alone won't be enough to land him a placement in the Heroics department.

(And as far as oaths go, they haven't sealed the agreement with a proper blood marker. Not that he would want that again.)

With that said, he doesn't exactly care that much whether or not he made a spot in the Hero course. If he's in, then he's in. If he isn't, well, at least he honored the deal that he does his absolute best in the entrance exam.

Although it'll be troublesome dealing with the inevitable backlash from Katsuki (and perhaps Hitoshi given he too expressed that John should go to the prestigious heroics academy. He's not even sure how All Might would react, but it's none of John's concern) if it came down to the latter outcome.

He can imagine all the mini-explosions already and the flurry of colorful language streaming through John in one ear and out the other.

But, in Hitoshi's way of phrasing things, Katsuki will have to suck it up because ultimately, John's fate is in the school's hands when his placement is concerned.

(His fate was in Ruska Roma's hands, then the Tarasovs, then Santino's, and then everyone else—)

Besides, John has a list of potential schools to attend just in case.

If Katsuki, Hitoshi, and All Might (and Tsukauchi, if he's being thorough) still insist he become a Pro Hero, his fallback plan is Shiketsu, another prestigious hero academy that holds a reputable standing.

If they give up on that insistence (which is probably next to impossible) he found a good non-hero-focused school nearby which also has an online course should he choose not to attend the classes in person. Perfect for aiding his plan in having the somewhat normal life he had always wanted.

Another perk of the school is the strict no-bullying policy, meaning no pretentious kids coming to bother him at all, so if he gets rejected and no one else tries to steer him to a life of heroism, he has that school to go into.

But of course, like all the wishes John had of wanting to be far away from the villain-fighting action All Might goes through daily, those plans get crumpled into a pitiful ball and thrown straight to orbit because, after returning to the apartment from his jog, John finds something white and bulky in the mailbox.

With UA's insignia.

Great.

~

"It's here," John says, entering the apartment, and he can hear Mom drop something in the kitchen from his spot in the entry hall. It didn't sound like glass, fortunately.

Mom appears frazzled when she comes to meet him halfway in the hall, brows crinkled and hands wringing together, but there's a tiny smile on her face. A shaky thing, but John can discern the genuineness of it because Mom has always been honest with her emotions, even when she tries to hide them sometimes when she thinks it'll upset him.

(Helen had been the same.)

She glances at the letter in his hands and echoes, her shoulders just shy of reaching her ears from nerves. "It's here."

She looks back up at him, this time with less tension and nervousness on her frame as she asks, breathless, "Do you...want to open it in private?"

"It's fine," John says with a shrug because he doesn't mind his mother being there with him. She deserves it if he's being honest. Plus, he'd rather not stress her out unnecessarily by asking her to wait outside his room while he reads the letter. "You can stay while I open it."

Mom looks a little surprised, but a smoother smile graces her features this time and her shoulders noticeably relax. "Alright."

They decide to take it to the living room, and after opening the envelope, a silver disk falls out of it along with the letter and a few folded papers. John is once again reminded how extreme UA does things, even in something as mundane as sending out letters.

Before he could even touch the papers, the disk lights up, and the holographic visage of All Might in a yellow pinstripe suit appears in the air. It's incredibly odd seeing the man in something so formal, but John figures that even the Number One Hero has to give a good impression as a new teacher.

Maybe that's why the man has been silent in the chats for the past week.

All Might then goes on to say his greetings in typical All Might fashion, affirming his status as UA's newest faculty member and his role as the harbinger of John's results in the entrance exams.

Mom holds his hand the whole time, perhaps her way of assuring him that he'll pass, even though John is sure he didn't come off as inherently anxious about it. But he doesn't tell her that, nor pull away from her. He focuses, instead, on the holographic video. (And no, he didn'tfeel like massaging his cheeks just staring at All Might with his signature smile glued to his face.)

"Young Midoriya, you've done tremendously well in the written portion of the exams, placing fourth in the overall rankings!" All Might announces, then he holds up a finger. "Not only that, you blew the practical exam right out of the water! Individually, you've gained 45 Villain points, which is enough for you to pass the exam and earn a spot in the Hero course!"

He can hear Mom squealing in the back of her throat as she tightens her grip on his hand, giving it a little shake from her exhilaration.

John, on the other hand, tamps down the dissatisfaction with the news. He knows that he had dug his own grave when he went along with Katsuki's demand for him to go to UA all those months ago, so now he's going to bury himself in it. Facing consequences.

"But you went above and beyond, young man!" All Might continues, and a few video clips show up of him caught rescuing other examinees from potential danger (how they even got footage from different angles is beyond him).

He can vaguely recognize a few of those people by face, but when the video shows different profile photos of those candidates with their names under them, John gleans that the French kid's name is Aoyama Yuuga and the gravity girl isUraraka Ochako.

"Not only did you defeat your foes, but you have also saved lives, even at the expense of your chances in earning more points, the pressure of the time crunch, and the challenges stacked before you!"

"Oh, Izuku!" Mom chokes up happily, tears flowing freely down her face like waterfalls, and John routinely hands her a box of tissues. At least she's not crying from worry or distress this time.

"Why am I telling you this?"All Might continues,"Well, as a hero school, we judge one's actions not just on their ability to triumph over villains, but by their selfless hearts, and their willingness to save lives no matter the struggles! For that is the essence of a hero!"

(But is John truly a hero? He doesn't think so.)

"As such, the judges have evaluated your performance and concluded that you have earned 38 Rescue points, bringing your score to a mindblowing total of 83 points!"

Then a scoreboard pops up in the center, names and numbers, and rankings put on display for John to examine.

Ah, so he's at the top spot.

Katsuki is number two with 72 Villain points and 5 Rescue points (which is a curious thing to see, but he won't ask Katsuki about it). He doesn't see Hitoshi's name on the list, but given that it's just for the overall top ten, he supposes that his other friend is in the top fifteen or twenty. (He hopes so, at least. Hitoshi deserves it.)

Mom bursts into more tears, blowing her nose into the tissues and creating a little hill of them beside her. John simply continues watching, and a part of him wonders if Katsuki and Hitoshi are seeing the same thing.

He doesn't get to think on it for long before All Might talks again. "And I am pleased to inform you, Midoriya Izuku, that with this mark, you are this year's top scorer!"

(He had been at the top of every class, surpassed peers, exceeded older students, and he only got cold stares and hidden resentment rather than proud smiles and outward glee for it.)

Then, All Might goes on to say that as the top scorer, he is to represent his grade and do the opening speech for the First Year's Sports Festival, which immediately brings a sour taste to his mouth because John is by no means someone who makes speechesin front of an audience. Much less one for a school event that's, apparently, even popular than the Olympics.

It'll be annoying, for sure, but he can't change what's already been decided now.

The hero eventually concludes the holographic message with a few flowery words to inspire him probably, and one last congratulation before he says, "Welcome, Young Midoriya, toyour Hero Academia!"

Then the video ends.

And Mom engulfs him in a hug with enough strength to choke out even the burliest of bodyguards, but she spares him the deprivation of air when she stands, now exuding euphoric energy. "This calls for a celebratory five-star dinner!"

She didn't need to go that far over an acceptance message, but John knows that telling her that making such a meal wasn't necessary wouldn't get her to notdo it, so he leaves her to do just that with a nod and gathers the papers, now deciding to read them in his room.

There's the acceptance letter which he combs through quite swiftly, taking note of the signature at the bottom (Nedzu, it says in calligraphic kanji with a peculiar marking of a paw print right above it) before he inspects the other forms that came with the envelope.

Costume Design Application Form, he reads.

Costumes.

Of course.

("In what style?" "Italian." "How many buttons?" "Two." "Trousers?" "Tapered." "How about the lining?" "Tactical.")

(Lifting the case's lid, he felt as though he was opening Pandora's box, which he might as well have. But there was no hope to be found in the bottom.)

(There was only him and the ghosts that welcomed him back.)

He'll think about that later.

The deadline for costume design submissions is, from what the document said, a week before school starts, so he has enough time to come up with something.

If he can't think of anything, he could always ask Katsuki, Hitoshi, or even Mom for ideas. Not All Might, though. For all that he respects the hero for his status as the Number One, John doesn't think asking a man who wears colorful, skintight bodysuits as his main attire would be a good idea.

For now, he goes through the other important forms with relative ease, leaving some lines blank for his mother to fill until it was time to "enjoy the fruits of his labor". He ended up grabbing a couple more tissue boxes for Mom when she cried waterfalls again as they discussed his acceptance to UA, but dinner was pleasant overall.

"I know I've said this a lot of times," Mom says later after dinner, the both of them washing the dishes, "but I'm so, soproud of you, honey."

(It's funny. The Director never said she was proud of Jardani. But it feels...nice, to hear that Inko was proud of Izuku. Especially with this.)

John just nods. "Thanks, Mom."

~

The day after his acceptance letter came in, Mom drags them out to town to buy what he needs for school.

He had refused, initially, saying that he didn't need anything else because he has a few extra notebooks lying around (despite them probably being too dusty and worn with age) but Mom had been adamant that they do a little shopping anyway, and John is incapable of fighting his mother on this (actually, he's incapable of fighting his mother on anything at all), so he relents.

They get new notebooks, pens, and pencils for him, and newer shoes since the old ones have been worn down too much to be wearable. Although instead of the dark running shoes he was used to, it's red high tops with white soles, and John is slightly skeptical about wearing them.

The color is too bright, too loud, too obvious. It'll draw attention to him if he's not careful.

(Attention can get you killed if you're careless, Jardani.)

But Mom thinks they're nice. "I love the color," she says with a smile. "And I think you'd look even more handsome with these, Izuku."

John highly doubts it, but if it'll make Mom happy, then he'll just have to get used to wearing them.

The next thing on their list is his uniform. According to the school website, they have the option to either go to an official store nearby the campus to find the right set for him or send in his measurements through the store's website and just tick checkboxes for his preferred style of uniform and pay through there.

Seeing as the second option is more convenient, time and travel-wise, he and Mom return home to go through the site on his laptop, type in his measurements, and scroll through various versions of UA's uniform.

He selects the pants, the tie, the dress shirt, and the summer version of it without much issue.

The blazer is left out, and his excuse was that it looked too stiff on the shoulders and elbows and that he'd feel a lot more comfortable wearing anything else, which convinced Mom enough to his silent relief.

And John only has a second to reflect how ridiculoushe is to be going to such lengths just to avoid a piece of clothing that is part of a high school uniform,and not a tactical suit made to withstand bullets before he goes to the next page.

(He knows he will think about it overnight, how some piece of him developed this aversion to wearing anything akin to a suit. It'll be a problem, but he'll deal with it until it stops being one.Hopefully.)

Shortly after scanning his options, John opts to just go for the school-issued cardigan, dark gray with UA's colors of green, red and white lining the hems, and two gold buttons on the front.

It appears less constricting and rigid around the elbows and shoulders respectively, and not so baggy that he has to worry about it snagging in sharp edges, so he ticks off the box beside it, concluding their to-do list, and John silently appreciates how lenient the dress code is.

UA is certainly a lot different from the Ruska Roma in that respect.

Later, he tells Katsuki and Hitoshi that he passed, and is accepted to UA because of their incessant messages to him. Before he could see any of their replies, though, he turns off his phone and gets to work on memorizing the most important passages of the student handbook on the school's website. Particularly the rules; who knows what will happen if he or any of his friends break them.

(He knew the consequences, and pulled the trigger anyway.)

~

The uniform eventually arrives in the mail, and John decides to try it on in the evening once Mom is asleep in her room.

He dons the clothing in practiced ease (and he has to remind himself repeatedly in his head that he's not preparing to take out hundreds and hundreds of enemies coming to kill him)before he unfolds the cardigan from its packaging.

He feels soft cotton underneath his fingers rather than polyester. It's different. (It's safe.)

He slips it on, and buttons it closed.

It's loose but comfortable on his figure, particularly lighter, and when he looks in the mirror, John only sees the face of Midoriya Izuku, a student of UA, instead of the face of the Baba Yaga, a killer with too many skeletons buried in the closet and underneath his feet.

And John is a little relieved with that.

~

April rolls in eventually, and with it, John's first day of high school.

Mom fusses in the entryway, an occurrence that he grew habituated to since his elementary days, so he lets her list down the things he needs verbally, asking if he has them and John assuring and reassuring her that he doesjust so she wouldn't drive herself up the wall with unnecessary stress.

She tidies him up a little bit, sweeping gentle fingers through his hair until it looks somewhat tame, takes one last photo on her phone, and wraps him in a hug before she sends him off with a wave, smiling.

"Have a good day, honey," she says warmly.

(And maybe he imagined Helen standing there too, waving him off with that familiar light in her eyes. Maybe he imagined those words being said in Helen's voice.)

John graces it with a wave of his own, even when it's not as spirited or obvious as hers is, before he heads off, meeting up with Katsuki on the way.

("I f*cking told you you were gonna f*cking pass, asshole."

"Hm.")

The journey to UA is relatively uneventful, save for the stares and whispers they got on the train which nearly set off Katsuki, but they make it to the school without much trouble.

They also manage to find their classroom easily without a moment to spare (partly thanks to John remembering to read up on the campus map online weeks prior), and John isn't so surprised to find that the door is exceptionally taller than he and Katsuki.

Maybe it's for accessibility purposes. That or maybe UA just enjoys living up to its motto that much that it applies to its interior designs. John will never know.

As usual, Katsuki enters the classroom first, sliding the door open with a dramatic flair that nearly has John rolling his eyes at the display, and sauntering in with confidence to his step, even though the blond is slouching for intimidation purposes. John follows quietly behind, closing the door after him.

They're the first few to arrive, it seems, and John is quick to observe the other students present in the room, regarding their features in rapid succession, and gauging any specific tells out of instinct.

A girl with dark hair tied in a high ponytail is sitting at the back corner of the class, reading a book with evident concentration (likely a strategist, smart, cunning, watch out for her).

A boy with two-toned hair—one side white and the other red—is on the desk beside the girl's, and from where John is standing, there's discoloration on the other boy's skin surrounding his left eye. A burn scar, a part of John whispers, but he knows not to point it out or stare at it for too long (lest he wants to be on the receiving end of a gun or a blade for his rudeness.)

So John moves on to the last two people in the room.

And they just so happen to be rather familiar faces.

"Ah, monsieur!"The French kid from the exam—Aoyama Yuuga, his memory supplies—waves from his desk. "A pleasure to see you here! Les étoiles se sont alignées!~"

John has a good enough understanding of the French language to catch some of what Aoyama has said, and he responds in kind with a nod. "De même."

That seems to bring an extra sparkle to the blond boy's eyes as his smile grows, and John takes that as his cue to continue to his assigned desk, as per what's written on the chalkboard.

However, just when John has sat down, something—or rathersomeone—else comes up, and it's the squarish boy from the practical exam orientation.

And he looks very much displeased with Katsuki at the moment. Katsuki, who is leaning back on his seat and propping up one foot against the desk's edge like a mobster from those cheap films he'd force John to watch with him when they were younger.

"Excuse me!" The bespectacled boy exclaims, shoulders rigid as he chops the air with one hand and pointing at Katsuki with the other. "Such display is unbecoming of a UA student! Please stop disrespecting school property like this!"

This is probably the part where John steps in and makes sure no school property will be further "disrespected" due to Katsuki's undying propensity to answer to anything comparable to a challenge but it seems there's no need for that when the boy turns his attention to John next.

"And you! That isn't the proper school uniform—!"

"It's allowed, Specks, get the stick out of your ass," Katsuki butts in, helpfulas ever, and the taller boy looks visibly affronted, his mouth open agape and his shoulders rising close to his ears.

Before things could escalate further (because of course, they would, given that Katsuki is in the equation regardless of John sitting right behind him) John smoothly pulls out his copy of the student handbook that he had the foresight to print before school started from his bag.

"It's allowed," John says, opening the book to the appropriate page in regards to uniforms for confirmation.

"A-Ah, I see, well..." He sputters after a moment as he adjusts his glasses, clearing his throat. "My apologies, that was very rude of me. I got a little carried away."

John only shrugs in response, not that offended by the boy's attitude. He was only following rules, after all."'Carried away' is a big f*cking understatement," he hears Katsuki mutter, and fortunately, the glasses boy didn't hear him.

"I am Iida Tenya!" He introduces himself with a chop in the air. "It's a pleasure to meet your acquaintance!"

John nods in kind. "Midoriya Izuku. Likewise." (Respect can take you places, Jardani, do remember that.)

Things later go downhill from there once Iida turns his attention back to Katsuki, sparking up a bit of a squabble with no feasible conclusion (or peaceful, more like), but John doesn't attempt to stop it. His friend isn't currently aiming to pick a fight with the bespectacled teen, and Iida doesn't seem the type to instigate any hostilities, so he'll leave them to their own devices.

(In the meantime, John observes. Always observing, waiting, calculating. This is new territory. There are plenty of unknowns. So he observes, quiet and patient, counting windows, counting doors, counting the seconds.)

More students trickle in gradually. At some point, Katsuki and Iida have resolved their little dispute somewhat; at some point, Hitoshi arrives along with the gravity girl—Uraraka Ochako—and they seem to be getting along well; and at some point, an exhausted-looking man in a yellow sleeping bag appears in front of the class, commanding their silence.

Oh, no, it's just Eraserhead.

"I'm Aizawa Shouta," the man says, sounding equally weary as he appears.

According to him, he's their homeroom teacher for the year, and with that authority comes the freedom to do whatever he wants with his class, which doesn't sound all that strange for John; he has had teachers in the past who would teach the Ruska Roma children in their distinctive styles (some were harsh, others even more merciless), so maybe Aizawa's teaching style is similar.

(Could Aizawa Shouta be like the Director or not? Merciless, cold, and distant beyond connection? John is unwilling to find out. He will keep his distance. Even if Aizawa turns out to be different.)

The man brusquely tells them to change into their gym uniforms and meet him outside, and John finds himself one of the first to arrive on the track field in a record time of fewer than ten minutes. The only other people there are the boy with split-colored hair and Aizawa, who only regards him for a brief moment before he nods slightly, whether or not it's in approval is anyone's guess.

Katsuki and Hitoshi will most likely chew him out for leaving them behind in the locker rooms but he's not the type to start a conversation with anybody unless he must or he has a motive for it.

Which, so far, he doesn't.

(Friendship could be a motive,one part of him said. Friendship will get you killed,another hissed.Katsuki and Hitoshi are enough,another placated. But that's an issue to address once John observes his new classmates a little more.)

While detective Tsukauchi did tell him to get more friends—which he didwhen he got acquainted with Hitoshi—John never explicitly promised he will actively seek companionship. And honestly, his socializing skills are subpar at best, especially around teenagers, so he'll simply let Katsuki and Hitoshi do most of the "friendship-initiating". It's only logical.

So he waits rather than converses with the peppermint-haired boy who stands a few ways away from him, silent and stoic until everyone has gathered.

"Alright," Aizawa starts once everyone has arrived. He pulls out a ball from his pocket as he stares everyone down with a gaze of a hard-skinned army instructor, a comparison that John pretends doesn't send a sensation of acute awareness in his spine. "Let's get this over with."

John listens.

(And John thinks to himself that he's not in the Ruska Roma, being raised to wield blades and guns with precision, then the army bases, being drilled into being better, carving out the weakness and fragility fromhis soul because the world doesn't care for the fragile.)

(He will not be fragile here either, even when the other children standing around him have hopeful eyes that make it difficult to look at for long.)

~

This year's batch of hero-hopefuls, Shouta finds, has potential.

And he's not saying that just because Hitoshi made it in the Hero course (although that's part of it; sue him, Shouta is proud of his kid), he does see promise in all twenty of them.

That includes Tsukauchi's little trouble-magnet.

Shouta can still remember the tales the detective had spilled over coffee about the boy, each one being even more ridiculous than the last. A frequent victim of kidnapping who, more often than not, plans his escapes; a shield between a crook and a civilian, whether or not it was wanted; and a skilled, creativefighter on top of that?

You'd think a kid like that would be a headache and a half, but no, he's just a kid who has a good head on his shoulders (one that has a knack for strategy, apparently) and just so happens to attract trouble or involve himself in it when it's needed and is Quirkless. A fact that leaves the other teachers baffled, but Shouta impressed.

But Shouta isn't gonna focus solely on Midoriya today.

He has a job to do, and a bunch of kids he has three years to train into good heroes, so he gets to explaining their objective for today.

He gets the kid who placed second in the entrance exams to do the demonstration, Bakugou Katsuki if his memory serves him right. A ball toss, where the only rule is to stay in the circle.

The blond winds his arm back, and a powerful explosion launches the ball into the sky like a rocket, all the while roaring, "Eat sh*t!"

Hm. The kid needs to work on his colorful vocabulary usage, but whatever, at least he did what he was supposed to.

The score that shows on Shouta's phone afterward astonishes the other students.

As expected, most of them are thrilled by the fact they get to use their Quirks for the fitness assessments, all chattering and whispering their excitement.

"We get to use our Quirks for real? Sweet!"

"Awesome!"

"This is going to be fun!"

However, there are things Shouta just can't tolerate, and one of those is heroes-in-training adopting the notion that their time training to become heroes will be funbecause the life of a hero isn't meant to be fun.

(There was rain, and a villain, and a boy who left too soon, buried beneath the rubble.)

(And it was then that Shouta and Eraserhead knew that the life of a hero wasn't what young children imagined it to be on the other side of the TV screen.)

So he gives them a wager (a ruse, really, but no one else knows this except Hitoshi, who has grown used to Shouta and his rational deceptions).

You know, to spice up the game a little. Because competitionbetween Pro Heroes has always been the public's point of interest these days. (Illogical.)

"The person to be placed dead-last in the course of this test will be expelled."

There. That should be enough incentive for them to not slack off. Call him cruel and unfair, but that's how life goes. It's cruel and unfair, and these kids ought to learnthattruth much earlier when their minds are still unsharpened, their instincts barely honed, and their bodies untrained.

(And Shouta knows that Hitoshi knows this. After all, he's learned firsthand how the world treats some people before he came to live under his and Hizashi's roof. So, rather than looking despondent in the face of this logical ruse, Hitoshi silently accepts the challenge with curled fists and a determined mien. Shouta is so proud of him.)

Fortunately, the studentsdogive their all.

A few students excelled in some tests than others (like Iida Tenya with the 50-meter dash; Shouji Mezou with the grip strength and pull-ups; and Yaoyorozu Momo with everything else thanks to the versatility of her Quirk) while those with Quirks that work differently struggle to keep up (like Hagakure Tooru with her Invisibility; Kouda Kouji who can talk to animals; and Hitoshi, whose Quirk relies on verbal communication to be effective) but that's fine.

They're at school to learnwhen all is said and done. Shouta wasn't lying when he said he sees potential in all of them either.

What particularly intrigues him during the tests, though, was, admittedly, Midoriya.

So far, he's consistently in the top ten in the overall rankings (a feat that honestly shouldn't surprise Shouta given that the kid took down a bunch of Villain Bots with just his wit and the tools he was given), and on top of that, he's not injuring himself in the process.

Not that Shouta was expecting him to, but kids can be reckless sometimes.

But whatever, Midoriya isn't exerting himself to the point of needing a visit to Recovery Girl, so Shouta continues recording his scores like normal.

(And he takes note of how Bakugou and Hitoshi congregate towards him after each test, chatting as if they're old friends, which Shouta has a sneaking suspicion that they are,andwow,if Midoriya—Tsukauchi's reason for developing gray hairs and a concerning-but-unsurprising coffee addiction—does turn out to be the mysterious friend Hitoshi has been meeting up with for the past year, Shouta will eat his sleeping bag.)

Once all the tests are completed, Shouta takes the time to observe the students before he can reveal the results. A few of them fidget where they stand, no doubt fretting over their placement in the tests, while others such as Hitoshi, Yaoyorozu, Todoroki Shouto, and Midoriya stand calm and assured as if they've figured out his lie.

Well, even if they did, Shouta's gonna enjoy the ominousness he's got going here.

Without much fanfare, he reveals to them their tallied scores, watching out for any violent reactions. He sees Kouda nervously wringing his hands together, Jirou Kyouka anxiously playing with her Ear Jacks, and Hagakure sagging in defeat.

"As for the expulsion," he says, subtly noticing the way Hagakure flinches minutely at that from his peripheral, "I lied. Nobody's going home."

The wide-eyed stare of utter confusion he receives would've made him laugh if not for the fact that his sense of humor is dryer than the desert, so he continues, "That was just a logical ruse to get you all to do your best."

Predictably, most of them all yell in bewilderment, while others like Hagakure nearly collapse from sheer relief. Yaoyorozu is the one to point out that it had been obvious from the beginning, with Hitoshi backing up her claim with a nod. Hm. Impressive on the girl's part for figuring that out.

He later dismisses the class, reminding them to pick up their class schedule and have other important forms filled out by next week before walking off to find a good napping spot. Hizashi can nag at him all he wants.

However, Shouta finds himself wholly unimpressed by All Might's bulky form hiding behind the corner of the gym like some weirdo, thinking he wouldn't get caught. Ridiculous.

"I take it you've been watching the entire time?" Shouta dryly comments.

"Nothing gets past you, huh?" All Might chuckles weakly while rubbing the back of his neck. "Well, I was curious how you manage your class and wanted to observe. You know, me being new to this profession and all."

For all that he is the strongest man in Japan, All Might is undoubtedly lacking in forethought.How or why Nedzu thought hiring the Number One Hero as a teacher is beyond Shouta's understanding, but whatever. The guy can do whatever he wants so long as heteachesthese kids how being a hero works.

"Sure," is all he ends up saying, continuing on his way.

But of course, the giant oaf stops him. "I'm surprised you haven't expelled anyone considering you did it to an entire class last year if I'm not mistaken."

"That's because they didn't give me a reason to."

"Ah, so you must have seen something special in this batch of kids as well," All Might assumes. "They all show promise, especially those like Young Midoriya. He's certainly something else."

Now, Shouta isn't one to joke around coworkers like Hizashi and Kayama, and as much as he agrees with that statement about Midoriya (because he'd be lying if he didn't), he can stand to mess with the Symbol of Peace, even if the underlying motive there is pure pettiness. "It sounds like you're favoring Midoriya. Isn't it a little too early to be picking favorites?"

Expectedly, All Might sputters in an attempt to extinguish any more assumptions, "I'm not picking favorites! I just- well, I just see potential in him, is all!"

Shouta raises a brow (All Might is acting as if he knows Midoriya, a thought that almost sounds ridiculous) but doesn't push the matter. "I don't care what you do; just don't slack off in teaching those kids how to be decent heroes."

All Might seems to deflate in relief at that. "Of course. Well, I'm glad you kept them around, Aizawa-kun. I may be a novice teacher, but..." He looks on towards the direction where the students have gone to change into their regular uniforms. "I can see that they have the makings of great heroes in them."

They do. They all do.

And Shouta will make sure they stay alive long enough for them to get there.

(It'd be cruel, otherwise, to let their dream end halfway.)

Chapter 9: old habits (die hard)

Chapter Text

"Dude, leave me in the dust while you land a spot in the top ten, why don'tcha?" Hitoshi mutters with a half-hearted pout to his voice as they start changing back into their regular uniforms. Unluckily for John, Katsuki and Hitoshi have no intention of letting him escape the room without them like last time. Pity.

John shrugs on his cardigan. "You did well. You were in 13th place."

"I'm lucky I even managed that much," Hitoshi retorts. "Looks like your ridiculous training regimen pulled through for me after all."

John doesn't think his "ridiculous training regimen" was the reason for Hitoshi's placement in the tests, even though it played a part to some degree. It was all Hitoshi, stubborn and set on his goals. (John had been the same at sixteen years old. Stubborn and set on staying alive.)

But if that's what Hitoshi wants to believe, then John won't argue.

His classmates begin to introduce themselves properly to each other as they change into their uniforms with John staying quiet throughout the exchange, more out of habit than anything else. Information-gathering is nothing new for him. Since his classmates are giving details about themselves freely, then it shouldn't be a problem for John to keep them in his mental vault for future reference.

(In case they betray you. In case they become a threat. In case they need to pay their dues.)

"Oh, hey, I haven't caught your name yet, dude!"

John pauses in tying his necktie and turns his head to see a boy with wild, red hair spiked up to resemble a mountain or a maple leaf. His eyes are equally as red, but they're not sharp and narrow like Katsuki's. They're wide, round in a way that gives you the impression that you can trust him. The boy also has sharp teeth, like that of a shark's.

For someone with such razor-edged features, he seems so soft. Friendly.

(Friendliness had always been an act, a pretense for most people in his time. If you're seen as harmless—friendly—people would naturally assume nothing and either be drawn to you or turn their backs, giving you the chance to strike your blade against their necks when they least expect it. John never tried being that way, only professionally affable when it was required. His targets always meet their fate either way.)

And John is sure that this boy is Kirishima Eijirou since he introduced himself first, loud and unbidden, smiling without ulterior motives.

"Uh, is he—?"

"You're fine; he does that sometimes when meeting new people," Hitoshi says, and John takes that as his cue to speak.

"Midoriya Izuku."

His voice is near monotone, not so friendly to onlookers, yet Kirishima doesn't seem put off by it. He smiles, sharp teeth and all, and John doesn't deem him a threat. (An unexpected thing to conclude, but he'll think about that some other time.)

"Nice to meetcha, Midoriya! And hey, I forgot to ask during the whole assessment test thing, but what's your Quirk—"

"Everyone! Our next class will start in a few minutes! Let's not loiter around longer than we need to!"

Everyone's gaze falls onto the bespectacled boy with engines in his legs (Iida Tenya, John remembers) now exiting the locker room, chopping the air rigidly.

The conversation stops there, and no one has come up to John again to continue what Kirishima was about to ask.

~

"I don't think they're gonna judge you for not having a Quirk, Mido," Hitoshi utters, just quiet enough for only John and Katsuki to hear while the rest of the boys walk ahead of them.

Katsuki scoffs. "I'd blast their asses to the f*cking sun if they do."

John isn't particularly concerned. He had been subjected to that kind of cruelty since elementary but it never fazed him. It just didn't matter. And he never told Hitoshi that he hated talking about his Quirkless status, but he figures that Hitoshi just doesn't want John to be uncomfortable, alone, and mistreated.

John just bobs his head. "Thanks."

~

Classes go on like normal.John memorizes which Pro Hero teaches which subject, connects the names of his classmates to their faces and personality, and learns of the schedule that he will follow for the rest of the school year.

It's the same kind of routine he had since elementary school but the only difference is, he's not left alone to his devices for long.

During breaks between classes, Kirishima would come up to him and start talking, either about some show he was watching or his lifelong ambitions ("I'm gonna be the manliest hero one day!" Kirishima declares with a grin).

John didn't contribute much but Kirishima didn't seem to mind, simply smiling all the while as he does the talking for the both of them (and he noticed how the redhead didn't ask him what his Quirk is—or lack thereof—throughout their interaction but decided not to point it out).

Uraraka, Iida, and Aoyama also came up to him to talk at different intervals of the day, and, similarly with his interactions with Kirishima, John didn't partake in their talks as much as he probably should have as a high schooler aside from the occasional answer to their questions. And they didn't find it strange at all.

Especially Aoyama, who seemed a lot more sprightly in whatever topic he'd bring up, somehow displaying glitter and sparkles in the air around him with every flowy sway of his arm.

Such odd kids, he thinks. But then again, maybe he is one too, given his situation.

Time passes by smoothly. He sits with Katsuki and Hitoshi at a vacant lunch table, absently listening to the former angrily ramble about a "soy sauce face" and a "raccoon eyes" bothering him and the latter providing sarcastic commentary.

The drone of students mingling and chatting serves as background noise as John unconsciously counts the entrances and exits of the cafeteria, an instinctual thing he couldn't get rid of even if he tried.

(He estimates around two to three main entrances/exits and 20-40 windows, all wide and tall enough for anything to crash through easily. If they were to be in an emergency, he could slip through the crowd, find another way out.)

If John had been a lot more sleep-deprived than Hitoshi (and maybe a lot more sentimental with his past life's childhood) he might've imagined that he was back in his old home, eating alone in the lunchroom as the other orphans congregate at different tables but not talking to each other much at all. Meals were solitary like that but UA is decidedly different with its layout and atmosphere.

(It's too bright here, Jardani concluded. Too bright and free.)

At some point, Kirishima, Uraraka, and Iida come to join them at the table. (no one came to eat with Jardani in the lunchroom.)

Except for John, who chooses to just listen, they talk and joke around the whole lunch period. (The first one to willingly talk to him at lunch in the Continental had been Marcus.)

And like before, John doesn't offer much, and he finds that even then, no one seems to mind at all. (He and Helen didn't need words to let each other know that their connection was there.)

For a second, he thinks his shoulders relaxed just a bit.

~

"Hey, hey, Aiyama-kun."

"What?"

"I've been meaning to ask ever since the Entrance Exam but," Uraraka looks over at Midoriya, quietly eating the rest of his katsudon even with Bakugou's temper tantrums caused by Kirishima. "What's Midoriya-kun's Quirk? I feel like you know since you guys seem close and all."

Hitoshi, because he's not a jerkass scumbag, doesn't want to reveal something private about his friend, even if said-friend says that it was fine and that I don't care if someone knows I'm Quirkless. (Damn it, he's so cool.)

But he can hype him up. Because Hitoshi is a good friend like that. And good friends hype up their friends regardless of whether it was warranted or not. So he shrugs, sporting a lazy smirk as he rests his chin on his hand. "You'll see."

Uraraka whines but Hitoshi doesn't budge. Dad taught him how to handle pressure better, after all.

~

"I AM.....COMING THROUGH THE DOOR LIKE A NORMAL PERSON!"

They have All Might as their teacher for their last class of the day. Foundational Heroics.

(John can imagine Viggo and Santino laughing at him over the irony of it.)

All Might isn't like his past instructors. He's bright, loud, and unnecessarily enthusiastic about plenty of things, both in his persona and as Yagi Toshinori, if a bit more subdued as the latter.

He's also, admittedly, rather impulsive and dense when it came to teaching.

With some dramatic flair, All Might announces, "For your first lesson, you lot will undergo an exercise! But not just any exercise; a Battle Trial!"

A battle trial.

Right.

(He had a trial at age seventeen, proctored by the Director. He was given nothing else but three guns, a knife, and his sharpened instincts to complete it in under thirty minutes. He finished it in fifteen.)

John is a hundred percent sure there needs to be some kind of run-through over technicalities and basic training before this but he won't badger All Might about it; what does John even know about how a hero academy operates?

"This exercise will be further explained at Ground Beta. But first!" All Might cuts in, "What is a hero without their costume?" With a click of his remote, the compartments at the back of the classroom slide open, displaying cases with large numbers on the front, most likely where the costumes are kept.

Everyone scrambles to get their respective suitcases while John waits on the sidelines, still and silent, and an irritating whisper that sounds an awful lot like Santino asks him if this looked familiar.It didn't. Not at all.

These aren't killers in training. These are teenagers just collecting their hero ensembles for a class exercise. Something mundane, something normal. These teenagers are aiming to be heroes, all dressed in things you'd only ever see in comics and movies rather than standard suits hiding knives and small guns.

"You're totally gonna love what we did with your costume," Hitoshi says beside him, a Cheshire smirk etched on his features. Katsuki stands on his other side, arms crossed and looking pleased with himself beneath his indifferent expression.

"Will it blow up?" John asks, watching Kirishima laugh at whatever Uraraka just said to him. Better to be cautious.

"Of course not, asshole, I didn't add motherf*cking bombsin it!"

"Mr. Sparkle Pops over here was tempted, though; believe me, I saw him doodling grenades—"

"Your stupid ass face is gonna show up on the news under mysterious disappearancesif you don't shut the f*ck up right now, Eyebags."

"How charming of you."

John had entrusted the costume design process to Katsuki and Hitoshi months prior while he, on the other hand, handled the weaponry requisition in his application. Truthfully, he doesn't trust himself to design anything remotely heroicwithout it resembling something the Baba Yagawould always wear, so the safest and smartest option was to place that responsibility onto his friends who had more taste in fashion than John does.

At least that way, he'd save himself the time-consuming trouble. So whatever they had in mind for him to wear as a Pro Hero in training, he will have to sport it without complaint.

Even if it'll turn out to be another headache to deal with.

~

In the boys' locker room, John opens the suitcase. (John pulled out the dark fabric of his suit)

And he pushes down that instant urge to close it and throw it against the wall because it'snotan Italian-styled two-piece suit tailored to fit his body like a second skin.

This was designed by his friends. Not Angelo nor any other tailor he knew before.

This was made for Midoriya Izuku, a future hero, not John Wick, a past killer.

This is different.

He takes out the first piece of his hero costume,ignoring the way Katsuki is staring at the back of his head and Hitoshi taking his time in getting into a getup of his own. The durable material is comfortable to the touch. It smells like mint and lavender. It's different.

(This is different. This is different. This is different.)

~

"Woahhh, cool costume, Midoriya-kun!" Uraraka says the moment she spots him.

John just nods as Katsuki raises his chin, his gauntlet-clad hands propped on his hips. "Duh, I designed that sh*t."

"We designed it, Bomberanian-kun," Hitoshi taunts with an easy smirk, and knowing what will happen next, John ignores their arguing, opting to stare down at his attire with mild apprehension.

Instead of a dress shirt, he sports a dark and fitted turtleneck shirt that's not too light and not too suffocating. Over it is a black blazer with geometric markings the color of his hair on the sides of the torso and the arms. He dons black slacks, held up by a maroon utility belt, and dark leather boots. To complete the ensemble, he has on black fingerless gloves and carefully hidden holsters carrying a retractable quarterstaff and his UA-issued gun (the emblem on the metal is the only reminder that it's not meant for murder.)

It's familiar, but he knows this getup hasn't been exposed to blood, grime, and death, yet.

Eventually, All Might arrives, explaining the goal of the exercise along with the rules (if with some help from the flashcards he pulled out).

It's simple enough of a test. A "bomb" is placed within a building; the Hero team must either capture the bomb or the Villains while the Villain team must either capture or kill the Heroes or defend the bomb until time runs out.

The only restrictions are not to attack once apprehended or eliminated with the provided capture tape and paintballs respectively, or when the time is up, and to follow the teacher's instructions.

(Beside him, Hitoshi snickers softly, subtly elbowing Katsuki and muttering something John is sure was something regarding the rules. Katsuki retaliates by swiftly kicking the taller boy in the ankles.)

All Might goes around with a box in his hands, saying their partners are determined by lottery. "All pairings are final, meaning no take-backs and no trades, young heroes!"

Katsuki doesn't seem happy with his pairing, given it's Iida, from what John can discern. Meanwhile, Hitoshi is holding back his laughter (and failing) with Uraraka shifting her curious eyes between the insomniac and the explosive blond.

John doesn't pay them any mind as he picks out a letter from the box.

C.

Then, he feels a tap on his shoulder. It's the ponytail-haired girl. From afar, she had appeared calm and collected, but up close, John can see the acute intelligence in her eyes. Maybe his assumptions of her being a potential strategist wasn't so off the mark. (All the same, he will watch out for her.)

"What's your team?" She asks respectfully.

"Team C," John answers.

The girl nods, "I'm in Team C as well. It seems we'll be partners for this."

John usually never had a good track record when it came to partners. Spontaneous cooperation with another assassin was one thing but partnerships were another, always ending in mutual separation or death. There was a reason he worked alone.

Then again, the people he had partnered with during his active years were trained killers with codes of conduct, people he knew wouldn't hesitate to turn their guns and blades on him at the perfect opportunity.

This girl in front of him is a hero in training with a moral compass, whom he hadn't properly talked to yet until this moment. It would also probably do some good for Midoriya Izuku to interact with more people now. His mom did ask him to try and make some new friends; he wouldn't want to disappoint her.

(Keep your friends close and your enemies closer. Do you understand, Jardani?)

So John nods. "Yeah."

"My name is Yaoyorozu Momo," the girl—Yaoyorozu—introduces shortly after. "What's yours?"

"Midoriya Izuku."

She cuts to the chase afterward, divulging what her Quirk is and how it works. Creation, she calls it. It's a beneficial Quirk, he'll readily admit. It's versatile, convenient in any situation, and John was fairly sure that all the mafia groups in his previous life would've killed to have a power like that had they been alive in this universe (but that would've been an unavoidable disaster.)

"What's your Quirk?"

Oh, right. That.

Worst case scenario, Yaoyorozu would probably look at him with contempt and avoid him like the plague, but honestly, John couldn't care less if that were to happen. He's dealt with old classmates like that since elementary; high school wouldn't be any different.

"I'm Quirkless," John says evenly.

And Yaoyorozu doesn't sneer at him. Or react negatively, for that matter. She looks surprised if anything, her eyes wide and mouth slightly agape.Well, it's better than dealing with what he was accustomed to, he supposed.

"Will that be a problem?" He later asks, and it's not because he wants to be confrontational. Rather, he wants to know if he could trust that Yaoyorozu won't act like his old classmates in middle school. Otherwise, Katsuki just might pull through with his previous threat and John doesn't want to deal with the aftermath of it.

Yaoyorozu startles. "Oh! No, no, it won't, not at all. I'm sorry if I came off as rude, I was just a little surprised—"

"It's fine," John cuts her off. "Just wanted to check." Her shoulders slacken as she sighs in relief, subsequently offering him a small grin.

"Well, I hope we can get along, Midoriya-san."

John doesn't smile, but he does let himself face Yaoyorozu fully just so she knows he's earnest. "Likewise."

~

The final results of the pairings appear on the holographic screen by the time everyone has found their appointed partners.

And frankly, John didn't know what else he had expected.

"The first team to start us off will be..." All Might presents, his words trailing off for dramatic effect. A holographic screen appears, revealing the teams with their profile photos on them.

TEAM C [VILLAINS]

VERSUS

TEAM D [HEROES]

Incidentally, Katsuki is in Team D, and by the looks of it, he'secstatic. Not a good sign, in John's opinion. Katsuki can be insufferable whenever he gets the chance to spar with him in any way, shape, or form, by which case is a class-sanctioned Battle Trial where Quirk usage is allowed. An approaching headache and a half.

"Try not to kill each other," Hitoshi tells him, clapping his shoulder.

"Tell Katsuki that," John responds bluntly.

All Might leads the rest of the class to the monitoring room after providing the capture tapes and paintballs and informing the first teams to come up with their plans in ten minutes, with John and Yaoyorozu being given a five-minute headstart in preparations.

"I have a plan that could possibly work, but if you also have an idea, I'd like to hear it," Yaoyorozu says after scanning the holographic map supplied to them.

John does have plans formed in his head, general ideas that include "killing" Katsuki since that option was far easier than capturing. Iida is a new factor, and based on his performance during the assessment test, he'd be a difficult opponent to handle by himself. As much as John is agile on his feet, he doesn't have engines on his legs, so perhaps catching the bespectacled boy off guard through traps could work.

He relays all this to his partner, who nods occasionally as he explains. Shortly after, she starts, "I have the exact same thought about Iida-san. His Quirk does seem like a problem to deal with and traps might be enough to capture him as well as the limited space of the building. Although, he might also be smart enough to figure that out."

"Then let's keep those traps as disguised as possible," John compromises.

"That can be arranged. I can make some hidden traps around the hall that could render Iida-san immobile enough for capture or elimination."

"However," she adds contemplatively. "I do have some questions about Bakugou-san; why 'kill' him instead of the alternative?"

"I've known him since we were younger; his first instinct will be to target me because he wants to fight," John explains curtly, rolling a red paintball in his hand. It's always red. "He's stubborn, brash, and his battle sense is keen enough that he'll be a bigger threat later on if we don't get rid of him early; I know how to deal with that. But what's your plan?"

Yaoyorozu's plan, as she then explains, is similar to John's in that there will be setups and countermeasures around the perimeter, but she'll keep the door sealed shut until time runs out. It's feasible, although he doubts it would hold back someone like Katsuki if he's not apprehended. It's a probability that his partner seems to have taken into account as well as she creates motion-sensor traps infused with some capture tape and her own paintballs near the door.

"Let's still utilize your idea, Midoriya-san," she says. "You said you've known Bakugou-san for a long time, so I trust that you can handle him while I handle Iida-san on my end."

"Yeah."

After helping Yaoyorozu set up, concluding their roles, and reviewing the map of the building via hologram device, they hear All Might's announcement in their earpieces.

"Alright, everyone, time's up! Villains, get to your stations; heroes, proceed into the building — your Battle Trial begins now!"

John takes in a steady breath. It'll be a pain trying to figure out where Katsuki and Iida would be in this maze of a commercial building but John can improvise.

"Good luck," Yaoyorozu tells him, giving him a flash grenade hidden within a matryoshka doll she created. "In case you need something to distract Bakugou-san," is her reason.

John only nods, passing the threshold in silence.

Here we go.

~

It shouldn't feel so natural to creep through the dark with an objective again yet here he is, weapons on hold, and his mind clear of anything but the goal to take out his opponents as soon as possible.

(Catacombs, mazes, crowded parties, places to hide his guns should he need to escape from enemies on his back; John was prepared for anything.)

He doesn't think about whether or not it's a good thing.

Having memorized the map, John silently slips through the hallways with ease; turning corners and going through stairs like a snake through tall grass, looking for prey. In this case, it's Katsuki, and Katsuki is far from oblivious and slow to react to the next visible sign of danger.

His feet barely make a sound with each careful step.

John distantly wonders if Iida has been caught in any of Yaoyorozu's traps yet.

He passes another hallway.

(An enemy appeared, guns raised, but the Boogeyman shot quicker.)

Katsuki, as much as he tried convincing John that he'd be excellent at stealth, announces his presence with a booming, "Found you, Deku!"

John easily dodges a sparking fist, drawing his quarterstaff (not his guns. Never his guns. Only for dire straits. Not to kill. Not his guns. Not yet) and swiping at the blond in response, only for him to evade and leap back, a manic grin stretched across his face. Great.

John keeps the flash grenade tucked away for now. A hidden blade among the other hidden blades underneath his jacket.

(Easier to have a second gun than to reload.)

"Think you could hide and get the jump on me, huh, Deku?"

Not really.

"Well, guess what; I'm gonna beat your ass right here and now, and I'm gonna f*cking win!"

Truly, can Katsuki get any noisier than he needed to be?

John lightly huffs, fixing his stance as multiple ideas on how to bait Katsuki into a corner and 'killing' him at the right moment surf through his head. He made it sound so easy when he explained that plan to Yaoyorozu, but in truth, he knew it wouldn't be—Katsuki grew up learning how to fight alongside John, after all.

Just as John knew of Katsuki's tells, Katsuki knew of John's.

As Hitoshi would say, this was gonna suck.

"Eat sh*t, Deku!"

Avoiding another swipe of Katsuki's gauntlet-clad hand, John retaliates by swiping his staff at the former's legs.

(Cassian was down, but so was John, and they grappled and struggled to get the upper hand.)

It manages to catch the blond off guard but he recovers quickly.

Katsuki wastes no time firing a short burst of Explosion at the ground by John's feet, resulting in smoke blocking his vision. No doubt a distraction leading up to a swift attack. Then again, that would be tooeasy, wouldn't it?

He smells burning caramel and fire just as he hears the kneejerk, telltale roar of an old childhood declaration, "DIE!"

(John Wick cannot—will not—will never die.)

The smoke cuts away, revealing Katsuki's charging figure, his feral smile still stuck on his face. His eye mask and the dim lighting seem to make his red eyes even redder.

Red. Red. Red.

Enemies in the red. John is in the shadows, in the red—in enemy territory. But that won't matter, he will fight and he will bleed and he will win.

Katsuki (Viggo Cassian Ares Zero)has his right arm extended in front of him, his hand open to let off another blast but John smoothly steps aside, hooks Katsuki's arm with his staff, and uses the momentum to steer the latter's face into the wall closest to them. "Urk—!"

It stuns Katsuki briefly, but his inherent stubbornness gets him to recuperate fast. John takes a few steps away to evade an incoming punch to the face, moving to sharply hit Katsuki under the chin with a palm strike.

The blond is seriously getting too predictable with his right hooks.

John doesn't let Katsuki take a second—he rushes forward without mercy (no mercy, Jardani, understand)and knocks away his enemy's target's victim's friend's gauntlet-clad hands with both ends of his staff when he notices them coming near him.

"f*cking damn it—!"

John continues to overwhelm Katsuki with punches, jabs, kicks; not giving him a chance to react.

(Don't give them a chance to breathe, Jardani)

Katsuki does get a few hits in, mostly because the blond knows John just as well to predict just the slightest crevice of an opening, but John doesn't let up; no hesitation, no doubt, only action.

(A split second of delay will cost you, Jardani)

He knows he has other options; the capture tape, the paintballs, the flash grenade Yaoyorozu gave him. They were available and ready to be utilized. But John also knows that Katsuki is just as observant when it mattered, so any small movements from him would draw his attention, so he needs to find the ideal timing, the ideal moment where he finishes this with one strike.

(like a rabid animal cornered, with nowhere to go but through its predator's chest. like a bullet through the heart.)

Katsuki aims for an elbow to the solar plexus; John catches it, shoving it away to kick the back of the former's knee but Katsuki flips back in recovery, swinging his grenade gauntlet at John but he parries it away with his staff.

John tries to sweep his legs with his weapon again but Katsuki anticipates it, jumping up to land a roundhouse kick to John's chest; John rolls back on his feet despite the ache growing there, simultaneously putting his staff in its holster.

He waits until the blond is the one to dash forward with a purpose and John grabs the front of Katsuki's shirt and his forearm to flip the cursing teenager over, slamming him to the ground.

"Ack—!"

Katsuki, however, isn't down for the count yet, using his Quirk to launch himself back up onto his feet after a few seconds, stumbling a little on the landing and heaving. John steps back again, readying his staff again. His second blades rest in his holsters and his pockets, burning to be used.

Katsuki wildly smiles at him.

John stares directly back.

(John Wick always stared into the eyes of those he killed, for he was the abyss that never looked away when it took and took and took.)

Their fight goes on for a while, and John seriously wants to get this done. He's unsure how much time has passed now but the longer this continues, the higher the chances of his opponent getting the upper hand and catching him unprepared. A particular lesson the Director drilled into him personally.

Maybe this is Katsuki's plan—to tire John out first before dealing with the finishing blow (if he decides not to take the available option of capture). A clever tactic.

But John has always been a little tenacious too.

He finds a window of opportunity in Katsuki's next attack. The latter sets off a sizable explosion on the spot where John previously was before he leaped away, causing another smokescreen and leaving the both of them blind to each other's presence.

John takes advantage of the thick Quirk-induced cover, sprinting to another, quieter, corridor.

The exit sign above radiates a neon green light, washing over him in its glow. He thinks he hears something in his earpiece but it's more of a dull kind of static than a coherent sentence. He inhales.

(neon light was all he could see in the nightclub/catacombs/hotel. rave/concert/classical music continued to vibrate below, above, and around him like a panicked/angered/excited heartbeat but his own remained steady. Cassian's/the Adjudicator's/The High Table's men would come for him soon.)

"Deku! Don't run away, you asshole! Fight me!"

Katsuki will come running. John needs to prepare; he will be prepared.

(he grabbed the guns he kept out of sight, waiting in the shadows, his territory.)

Carefully, as to not invite any of Katsuki's heightened attention, he loads the three red paintballs in the school-issued gun (it's empty, he realizes a little later. Grateful, somehow. Maybe the school doesn't trust him enough) while leaving one in his pocket just in case. Four was always seen as an unlucky number in Japan, wasn't it?

(a shot, two shots, three shots, four shots. each one deadly, calculated, permanent. John never wasted a bullet when it mattered.)

He stores away the gun and his quarterstaff, and pulls out the capture tape, inspecting it. It seems durable enough. He tears a decent length off, keeping the rest of it in his pocket.

(he strangled one of Viggo's men with nothing but his restraints, not letting go, not stopping until only one of them breathed.)

"Deku!"

He exhales. His mind is clear. Tire Katsuki out, entrap him, then kill him (do you understand, Jardani/John/Baba Yaga). Then help Yaoyorozu if she needs it.

All too quickly, Katsuki finds him.

(Katsuki's red, red, red clashes with Midoriya Izuku's green, green, green, like lava over a garden, like blood over grass.)

And he doesn't waste a second this time, blasting a nonlethal explosion at John's chest and later roaring like a Spartan soldier heading to war. "Time to get your ass beat!" John swiftly gets back up, stretching out the capture tape. His ears ring, sweat building up in his palms, and his head pulsed behind his eyes along with the other bruises scattered across his body. He's f*cking tired of this.

(he was tired, he wanted to sleep, but there was no rest for the wicked like him, so he continued to run until his ankles bled and his vision got too blurry.)

Katsuki leaps forward with a yell, red eyes focused on him and—

John sees Cassian's car coming, but unlike last time, he dodges it. Cassian is angry, rightfully so; John killed his ward.Consider it professional courtesy, Cassian says, dropping a coin, two coins, three coins, four coins for their drinks, their respect, their purpose, their lives. That number will leave him dead on a train.

John wraps his belt around Cassian's arm and he twists and pulls and manipulates; he wants him to fall down already.He does fall.

However, Ares doesn't crumble easily. The tiny knife, clutched between her callused, tattoed fingers, glints with intent, each punch desiring to end him for good.

John overpowers her, pushing her back with much more force until that tiny knife is embedded in her chest, following in Cassian's bloody footprints. Be seeing you.

But Zero is persistent, and he fights with more vigor and skill than before. John doesn't falter this time; he won't be thrown into glass walls or let blades knick his skin anymore. He's slammed into the ground but he hooks his legs around Zero's neck and drags him down with him.

Zero continues to be persistent but John jabs him in the cheek and throws him to the floor. We are the same.

John is getting tired of it. (But he won't stop.)

He rises instantly and it's no longer raining when Viggo stands before him, like a ghost beyond the grave. Viggo doesn't wait for him to be ready, he charges on, his shriveled heart beating to avenge his fallen empire and the son who f*cked it all up.

John meets him halfway, his fist against Viggo's wrinkled face, the fleeting memory of rage and hate and pain being the only thing on his mind. I'll be seeing you, John.

He gets on top of (Viggo Cassian Ares Santino Iosef Zero who who who who is it)to restrain any more movement. He hears profanities and curses from a voice that should be familiar but John is too deep into this mission that he doesn't care who it is; he needs to finish the job.

Marcus texted him they'd get a drink. Helen wants him for another date on their anniversary. Daisy needs to be fed.

He reaches for his gun—

"HALT, VILLAIN!"

John is forcibly shoved away by something—or someone.And that just happens to be Iida. (Did the trap plan fail or did Iida not come to their floor at all? What happened to Yaoyorozu?)

"Damn it, Specs, I had him!"

"You were trapped with no way of escaping; it's a hero's duty to—"

"I just said I f*cking had him!"

John gets back up and for a moment, he ponders over what just happened that made him lose some of his composure, enough that he didn't hear Iida's arrival, but he shoves that question in a box for later. The battle trial is still ongoing; there will be no more distractions.

"Midoriya-san, are you there? Are you alright?" Yaoyorozu's voice cuts through his earpiece. Oh, so she's safe, then.

While Katsuki and Iida continue to argue, oblivious to the world and their opponent, John answers back in a low tone, "Yeah."

"Oh, thank goodness... What's happening? Iida-san hasn't arrived in our base yet and I heard a lot of explosions a few floors down."

"Iida's here. I was fighting Katsuki until he showed up."

"I see. Then it seems we'll be starting a Plan B. If you don't have a clear shot, I can make a net cannon that could hold two people, that way we can use the paintballs on them once they're incapacitated."

The hero team is still arguing when John chooses to retreat, for now, creeping backward, his feet not making a sound. "No. Katsuki can blow it up and Iida can either dodge or get them both out of range." He pats himself for his other gun just to be prepared, except he feels nothing in his holster. Great. "And my gun's missing."

It probably flew away somewhere when Iida collided against him at full speed earlier. And he only has one red paintball with him, which isn't enough, to begin with. Well, he still has his capture tape, quarterstaff, flash grenade...

"I can create one—"

"All your paintballs were used for the traps and I only have one."

"Oh...right," he hears her trail off. "Then, what should we do?"

John slinks away deeper into the darker end of the hallway, shadows blanketing him. Certain that the hero team can't see him anymore, he turns and starts walking, a decision made. "I'm going back."

"Eh? But Bakugou-san and Iida-san—"

"I'll deal with them if they come at me." He makes it to the floor just below where the bomb is. If John focuses hard enough, he can hear Katsuki's irritated scream that sounds like, 'Where the f*ck did he go?!'

"Are the traps still there?"

"Uh— Yes! Yes, they are and untouched."

"Okay. I'll be there soon. Be prepared."

Just in time, John hears footsteps, some explosions, and the roaring of engines, including angered exclamations and profanities. "DEKU, YOU SLICK SON OF A DICK—"

"Language, Bakugou-kun!"

"—I'M SO GONNA KICK YOUR f*ckING ASS!"

John barely manages to evade a flying kick rocketing towards him by none other than a seething Katsuki, which elicits a cry from Iida. "Bakugou-kun, don't just head straight into danger like that! You need to plan—"

Katsuki screams back, "Why doncha stop getting on my sh*t about it and start fighting—f*ck!"

John doesn't waste a second in kicking the blond in the side, sneakily nabbing one of his smaller grenades in the process. (Katsuki needs to think of a better place to keep his limited explosives that is out of easy access.) He manages to get a few feet away when Iida goes for a swing of his leg.

"As I told you, you need to plan—"

"Save that sh*t for later, Four Eyes!"

"Are you even seriously trying to be a hero with that attitude?"

"Are you seriously trying to piss me the f*ck off with your prissy, self-righteous bullsh*t, Uptight?!"

Taking their short argument to his advantage, John presses the small button on the grenade and waits until the right timing to throw it at their feet, the two of them unaware until the last second. It clicks.

(it exploded, leaving many injured, dying, dead.)

Smoke is released rapidly, clouding their sight of each other, and John doesn't think twice about sprinting to the stairs to the next floor with this diversion. Behind him, Katsuki bellows, "Have you been watching ninja movies or some sh*t, Deku?!"

John says nothing. He continues to dash up the stairs, plans upon plans forming in his mind. He'll hazard a guess and predict that, if he plays his cards correctly, Katsuki and Iida's rocky cooperation would result in their loss one way or another.

He arrives in time to see Yaoyorozu leaving the bomb room with a long metal staff held tight in her hand. "Midoriya-san!"

"Yaoyorozu," he greets back, and knowing they're on a short time limit (he's almost sure that Katsuki is blowing a fuse from the number of times John managed to slip away) he continues, "I have a plan if you're willing to listen."

She does end up listening to his plan with rapt attention, interjecting with a few suggestions of her own until their new, solid strategy is formed just in the nick of time.

"Deku!"

John turns to face Katsuki who is foaming at the mouth at this point with Iida hovering behind him, pronouncing some speech about heroism and reigns of terror coming to an end. John can only focus on the fiery stare of his friend, hot and burning to win.

Unprompted, Katsuki—as usual—bolts forward, powered by his explosions, leaving Iida spluttering in the smoke.

John acts quickly, using the capture tape to rope Katsuki's incoming left leg to the face and maneuvering it sharply until the blond loses his balance and falls face-first onto the ground, too late to react and regain his footing. Iida starts to dash towards them, likely aiming to assist his team partner and take John down, but John had expected the reaction as much.

Without missing a beat, John takes out the matryoshka doll from his belt and flings it at Iida, who comes to an abrupt stop to kick at the incoming projectile, triggering the flash grenade to go off. John instinctively shields his eyes, waiting until it was the ideal time to open them again and see Iida rubbing at his own.

But Katsuki seems to have the same thought of covering his eyes as he uses his other uncaught leg to sweep John's ankles, which throws him off for a brief moment before John recovers instantly, releasing his hold on the blond's leg as a result. Katsuki is practically growling as he gets back up on his feet, slouched as though he's about to pounce again.

"Midoriya-san!"

He doesn't need to look back to know that Yaoyorozu has pulled through with her end of the plan, picking up the sound of motorized parts moving and whirring. And he doesn't need to hear her command to take cover.

Using Katsuki's brief shift of attention to Yaoyorozu, John hits him in the stomach and immediately drops to the floor just as Yaoyorozu fires off her newly formed creation, one that vaguely resembles a bazooka. John barely identifies the projectile used for it except it's pink in color.

Ahead of him, he hears the combined voices of Katsuki and Iida, both yelling in vastly different volumes and emotions. He cranes his neck to discover the hero team trapped in some bubblegum-like substance with their heads spared from the material.

In an instant afterward, an alarm echoes around the building.

"Time's up! Villain Team wins!"

It seems like their traps weren't needed after all.

~

Later, after watching Katsuki and Iida successfully getting out of their bubblegum prison (with some complaints from the former and some scolding from the latter) John notices Yaoyorozu's current state just from the way she's covering herself and angling away from them. He slips off his blazer, approaching his exercise partner. She must have exhausted herself too much from making that bazooka if she isn't creating any covering.

"Here," John says, looking elsewhere as he hands his blazer to a flustered Yaoyorozu.

"Oh! T-Thank you," she bobs her head in appreciation, taking the blazer and shrugging it on her shoulders, tugging it close over her body. She definitely needs to have her hero uniform modified better, he thinks. For the sake of convenience and her dignity. Maybe he can negotiate with All Might about getting Yaoyorozu a new modified costume after this class.

"You're welcome."

~

Hitoshi's cheeks hurt so goddamn bad from how much he's smiling like a starstruck idiot but he can't help it.

He takes a moment to spy on everyone else's reactions andboywas it a sight; most of them could probably catch flies from how wide their mouths were along with their eyes. (Except for that one guy with all the ice covering one side of him who is pretty much glaring at the giant screen. Weird.)

Beside him, Uraraka looks like she just won the lottery out of nowhere.

Hitoshi can understand that; Midoriya "Viridian Devil" Izuku is just so f*ckingcool,it's unbelievable. (Watching him practically wiping the floor with Blasty's ugly mug will forever be ironed into his brain like a happy memory he can look back on if he needed a good laugh; so much blackmail material in case the blond urchin decides to piss him off or something.)

He always knew his quiet, blunt friend was cool (the first time they met solidified that thought) but seeing his classmates' awestruck reactions to the badassery displayed in the big screens of the monitor room just hits different.

Never underestimate the quiet kids, or whatever the hell the saying went.

And if these guys knew that Midoriya is Quirkless?

Well, Hitoshi just hopes it'll be one hell of a wake-up call.

~

All Might swears to all the American states he's been in that he had no idea what he was expecting out of this Battle Trial match.

But watching young Midoriya going toe-to-toe with young Bakugou without a Quirk and managing to get the upper hand repeatedly each time—even with young Iida coming to assist his partner—was a welcomed surprise. Not that he was, to begin with; the Sludge Villain incident was all the proof he needed to know how capable young Midoriya is, especially in this world of superhuman abilities.

That boy will never cease to amaze him.

(and in the back of his mind, he thinks,Master would've loved him.)

~

It's a pandemonium the second John and the others return to the monitor room.

"You guys were so awesome!"

"It was a bloodbath, is what it was!"

"It's just a Battle Trial, kero."

"The way you guys fought was like it came out of a movie!"

"How were you able to fight like that without using your Quirk?!"

John doesn't even need to mull over it. "I don't have one."

He already expected the silence, the shocked faces, and the surprised stares. He's already anticipating any snide remarks and scowls that he could easily ignore.

What John didn'tpredict was the uproar of praises and compliments thrown at him at every angle.

"Holy crap, seriously?!"

"That makes your fight with Bakugou even more awesome!"

"Man, all that without a Quirk? So freakin' sick, dude!"

"You're incredible, Midoriya!"

In the corner of his eye, John finds Katsuki smirking at him alongside Hitoshi.I told you so,he can hear from their expressions.

Yaoyorozu is smiling as well, thanking the girls of the class for their compliments while Iida appears as though he's trying to find a good opening to talk but gets swamped by the class's louder voices.

In the back of the crowd, All Might sends him a thumbs up discreetly with his pearly, cheek-cramping smile.

John can only stand, taking in everyone's praises until All Might ushers everyone back to attention, asking who the MVP of the match is and what they should do to improve, among other questions. The next match later commences and John watches intently.

As much as he isn't a complete optimist on any given day, his first day of high school is going well so far, he thinks.

Chapter 10: to each his own (danger is sweet)

Chapter Text

John Wick sits at the bar alone.

He finished his mission just a while ago (who did he kill?), and he wants to ease off the adrenaline with a shot or two of bourbon. It's a typical night even though he knows he has school tomorrow.

"You working again, Mr. Wick?"

Charon works behind the bar, face impassive as ever. John can't recognize the bottles behind the lobby counter. He sees suitcases, though; they're all labeled with bright, blocky numbers that hurt his eyes.

"I don't know."

He usually knows. He usually has an answer. Not this time. Not again. He can't choose anymore. (He doesn't want to.)

Marcus pats him on the back when he arrives. Loud and careless (Marcus was never loud nor careless) he slams coins on the table, grabbing attention when he shouldn't. John couldn't do anything but watch the color drain from his old friend's face. But Marcus laughs airily and walks away.

Did Marcus fail? Or did he make a mistake? John isn't able to ask. An invisible hand pushes against his face to stay where it should be so he wouldn't look at Marcus. John didn't get to say a proper goodbye.

"You're worrying too much."

Hitoshi works behind the bar now, clad in a suit that doesn't suit his body. Seeing it makes John want to burn it in a building somewhere. He thinks of his house—his and Helen's. It got burned down by selfishness, greed, and power from monsters bigger and crueler than humans.

Hitoshi pours him a drink. The bourbon comes out as tar rather than honey, overflowing in his shot glass. "You didn't fail."

John did fail. He failed in too many things that mattered. He couldn't save Daisy. He couldn't protect his house. He couldn't even keep what little peace he had in his short-lived retirement.

Because, in the end, he was useless.

He blinks.

He finds himself standing alone in the classroom (has it always been this big?). The desks have been pushed away against the walls, leaving a spotlight in the center, and the Director never smiles at him when he steps forward into the light, disobeying her orders to stay in the shadows, Jardani.

"You deem yourself a saint." Her voice is so different from what he remembered. It sounds so gruff and tired. Like she's a jaded traveler with sins to confess. "You'll never change."

When Viggo sings an old Russian folk song into the classroom fireplace, John leaves, his legs seemingly pushing against sludge as he walks past the shadowed, faceless figures that judge him. Sitting on a stool like a throne beside the doorway, the Bowery King holds his messenger bird in a vice grip and cackles at John, mocking him 'til his last breath.

The hallway of the Battle Trial building would have been pitch black if not for the glaring exit sign above, illuminating everything in green and blue and making the shadows appear sharper and darker. Katsuki stands in the distance, blending with the dark in his middle school uniform. Santino is there with him, sitting on his lavish chair, sipping blood-red wine. Their voices muffle and clash as they stare at a painting of a ghostly man, cluttered with spider lilies growing in every open, gnawing wound. He feels like there's a message somewhere but he can't understand it.

His house suddenly feels too small and vulnerable. The dog continues to sleep in the living room, content with being nameless, content with being John's company. (where had he last left him? alone and starving, or in the company of people willing to feed him?)

Katsuki takes his time charging up his gauntlet, aiming it at Santino's head. (Don't do it, you're making a mistake, you'll ruin your life, they'll come after you, you'll die—)

John needs to get Helen's picture quickly or it will burn like everything else. He doesn't make it in time.

He's too late to stop the fires from building up and up and up, until they turned his haven into a funeral pyre, swallowing every memory he had until they were gone, reduced to ashes. John can only watch as faceless dolls dance in the light from the other side of the window. (he thinks he sees Tsukauchi and his classmates there, celebrating the death of a villain who thought he'd live his life differently.)

He closes his eyes, wanting to believe that this would go away if he stops looking. (They don't go away. They never go away, only hiding, only waiting.)

"You shouldn't have come back, Jonathan."

Near the edge of the empty Dagobah beach, Winston sits on a lone bench beside Yagi, a glass of wine in hand. Winston's wrinkles stand out starkly in the setting sun and Yagi appears even more like a decaying corpse, bony hands clutching tufts of brittle blond hair that might have been the hero's. (Yagi looks so frail, wasting away by the minute behind his toothy smile with nobody knowing it.)

"Have a drink and relax, for now."

Winston said that to him one lifetime ago, when John paved the bloody warpath to Iosef with bodies and bullet shells. Winston is dead now; he had his drink and relaxed.

John can't remember when he started walking down the beach, passing by human remains, golden coins, severed hands, and tattered notebooks. But he continues forward anyway, giving a sickly woman (was it John Wick's Helen or Midoriya Izuku's mother?) one last hug on the way to the shoreline before the red ocean meets his chin.

He doesn't fight it when the waves reach out, dragging him down to its depths.

He doesn't resist when the blood he spilled invades his body, and phantom hands wrap around his neck—

As with most aftermaths of his dreams, John remains quiet, even when he's breathing heavily through his nose and his heart thuds too heavily in his chest, sweat drenching his skin.

A cold and clammy hand reaches over, turning off his alarm the second it rings, and John stares at the ceiling, absently counting the minutes he has before he has to prepare for school.

On days like this, back when he had been John Wick instead of Midoriya Izuku, he would loop a gentle arm over the sleeping figure of his late wife, comforted immediately by her presence, and soon lulled back to sleep. His head wouldn't be plagued by gunfire and lifeless eyes because he had a reminder he was no longer at that place.

But Helen isn't here to comb her fingers through his hair and hold him close anymore. John only has his mother, Inko. He loves his mother, so much that it still feels unreal to him sometimes, but he'd rather not disturb her peace of mind and well-deserved rest from working so late just because he had... A strange dream. That's what they were; dreams. Strange dreams happen to everyone.

Today is just another one of those days when he's not as active in conversation with Mom at breakfast, only ever answering with soft hums and nods of his head, but she doesn't push nor prod nor judge. She simply pecks his cheek with a gentle 'good morning' as she slides a plate of omurice in front of him, and John is thankful that Midoriya Izuku has a mother like this.

(Before leaving, he ponders what gift he should get for Mom on her birthday.)

~

If there's one reason why Hitoshi wants to be an Underground Hero, it's the spectacle right up ahead. (He should've gone with his dads this morning and tried to convince Midoriya and Bakugou to come with him, even if it cost him his plans of finally introducing them to his folks later on in the school year.)

A bunch of reporters block the entrance gate of UA with cameras and microphones out, frothing at the mouth for any crumbs of All Might. How these vultures managed to sniff out the expensive cologne of the Number One Hero and trace it back to UA is beyond Hitoshi's understanding. It must be some kind of side-effect of being around media drama that gives them the power to unearth All Might's location and status as a new teacher from who-knows-where.

Honestly, a part of Hitoshi feels bad that All Might has to deal with this type of nonsense every day and not implode.

"Okay, I know All Might's popular and all but this is getting ridiculous," Hitoshi deadpans, trying to think of awesome ways to get around the reporters and into campus like some kind of ninja but resolves to just watch this circus fest happen before his eyes and wait until something weird happens. (Preferably a gallon or two of pink paint drenching them down to their expensive shoes but Hitoshi can dream.)

"No sh*t," Bakugou grumbles in reply. Midoriya doesn't comment, only looking as annoyed as a placid guy could look.

Beyond the sea of hungry journalists and reporters stand his dads — or, in this case, Aizawa-sensei and Present Mic. They're trying to steer the media leeches away with as much patience and civility as they can, but even Hitoshi's not blind to how Aizawa is losing every thread of patience within him. Hitoshi sends the man his thoughts and prayers.

When Hitoshi looks further, he spots several other students getting bombarded with questions, mostly about All Might. Among them, Uraraka, the guy with the electric Quirk, and Iida are interviewed against their will, with Iida somehow handling it far better than the other two. The guy's particular brand of enthusiasm, though, seems to drive the awkward reporters away, giving other students a chance to head inside. Awesome.

"Ugh, enough of this sh*t, let's just ignore those nosy f*ckers and get in," Bakugou decides because—and Hitoshi is a thousand percent sure on this—he doesn't want his perfect attendance streak to break this early into the year. For a guy with a personality of a honey badger, he sure is a stickler for a good record.

"And if we get mics and cameras shoved in our faces?" Hitoshi raises an amused brow. "Are you gonna scare them away with your ugly mug or what?" Just imagining Bakugou scaring the sh*t out of the reporters with his face alone is enough to make him snicker. The blond urchin is undoubtedly a guy with many talents.

"Oh, I'll show 'em an ugly mug if they even so much as try to f*cking hold me up."

"Try not to do it so much that it would change the trajectory of their lives, pal."

"f*cking whatever, Hypno. Oi, Deku, let's— okay, what the hell?!"

At the sudden shout of anger-flavored exasperation, Hitoshi discovers alongside Bakugou that, yes, Midoriya is not with them. Rather, he's already cutting through the unwanted crowd of TV vultures like a graceful leaf in the river of sweaty bodies, going with the flow all slick and effortless. And he hasn't been mobbed by a news reporter yet which is already a feat on its own.

"How in the f*ck does he do that," he hears Bakugou mutter incredulously and Hitoshi snorts. Perhaps even childhood friends don't know everything about their silent and mysterious bestie who somehow knows how to dislocate an arm in nine different places.

"Beats me," Hitoshi shrugs. "Midoriya's always a mystery. Anyway, c'mon, Iida cleared a path."

Bakugou continues to grumble throughout the way while Hitoshi just rolls his eyes. Drama queen. At least they aren't late, otherwise, Bakugou would throw an even bigger fit and Midoriya would be forced to use the signature Eyes of Disciplinary Energy (which is pretty much just Midoriya's default expression except it feels like you're being stared down by a disappointed mother. Hitoshi's caught a glimpse of that look multiple times to know that it also feels like getting doused in lava made of ice and needles.)

Speaking of Midoriya, they catch up to him (not without Bakugou aiming a flying kick at the boy's back for leaving them to the sharks and Midoriya expertly dodges) and Hitoshi decides to put that whole news media fiasco out of his mind. Sure, he'll have to deal with them at some point in his future career as a Pro, but that's not for another two or three years. Right now, he has school to focus on, and that takes a lot more mental power on his part to survive.

Fingers crossed, this week will bring much better happenings.

~

Further away from the crowd of hungry journalists, two figures watch intently, waiting for the right moment to give the iron fortress that is UA a little shake to its foundations, starting with the front door.

"Remember your role."

"Yeah, yeah, I got it."

~

They get the written assessments of their Battle Trials from Aizawa, looking as exhausted as he was on their first day, which John is beginning to find a common sight of now. Although, the man looks particularly unimpressed as he holds up the papers for the class to see.

"I received your evaluations for All Might's Battle Trials yesterday," Aizawa says and John notes the minute twitch of the man's brow when he mentions All Might and the trials. "Remember, these are to give you insight on what you did right and what you need to improve on, so make sure to consider them carefully."

The bold red number of a perfect score stands out on the corner of his paper. Below is what John assumes is the written review of his performance, but it comes across as more of a commentary from someone who isn't a seasoned teacher, sprinkled with flowery words of encouragement and high praise that only All Might could type in. It's almost a ridiculous thing to read, but John figures it's because he was used to much harsher criticisms before.

Considering the grading system for this is a shared one between pairs, John can assume that Yaoyorozu also has the same score. She deserves it.

Behind him, Hitoshi taps his shoulder. "What score did you get?"

Wordlessly, John reveals his paper, and Hitoshi whistles, "Damn, alright then, Mr. Perfection. Way to beat Blasty at his own game."

"I hear you talking sh*t about me, Eyebags, and you're gonna get your ass kicked later," Katsuki grumbles, shooting the other teen a stink eye. John leaves them to their usual bickering while keeping an ear out for any violent reaction. It'll be bothersome at best if the two of them get in trouble on their first week of school and annoying at worst if they somehow drag him into it.

"Alright, now that that's over with," Aizawa regains their attention, and instantly, his aura changes. "Time for the serious stuff to happen."

The class seems to sense an impending doom in the air, stiffening in their seats, although John suspects that whatever their teacher has planned isn't as bad as everyone seems to expect. John could be wrong.

"You're gonna be choosing your class representatives."

Or he could be right.

Around him, the class jumps into an uproar, primarily eager to receive the title and responsibility of Class Rep. John has a slight suspicion that Katsuki wants in on it even though he never expressed any interest in the position back in middle school. Somewhere amongst the noise, Iida suggests they do a voting system, and Aizawa clocks out from there in his yellow sleeping bag, no further instructions other than a gruff, "Make it quick."

The process is simple enough. They write who they're voting for on a slip of paper and Iida, the self-appointed teller for this class election, counts them out. John probably must have blocked out the noise too long while updating his Quirk analysis notebook after writing down his vote and submitting it because he eventually notices a particular shift in the atmosphere the second the talking stops.

John raises his eyes to the board.

Katsuki, Hitoshi, and Uraraka have one vote each. Iida has two votes while Yaoyorozu has three, and John has...

Five votes for class representative. Huh. That's more for him than the rest of the names jotted there.

"Oi, who the f*ck voted for Deku?!"

"Don't act as if you didn't vote for him too, bleached porcupine."

"f*ck off, Frankenf*ck!"

"Oh, sweet, Midoriya's gonna be Class Rep!"

"As expected of one of the coolest guys in the class!"

"He totally has the right vibe for it! All cool, mysterious, and a complete badass!"

The more comments said about him being the "perfect class representative," John is less willing to take the position.

Him? A leader? He can't imagine being one, much less to a group of starry-eyed, superpowered children. He was never much of a leading man in most things. John can't think of why he's voted; he hasn't displayed any qualities of a leader as far as he knows. Although, yes, he took the lead during the Battle Trials, it was a team effort for the most part.

Besides, after taking glimpses of Iida and Yaoyorozu's sloppily hidden crestfallen expressions, he's certain that other people want to take the lead more than he does, more dedicated to guiding others and being the person they turn to, and that's fine. John isn't keen on that kind of responsibility anyway.

"Midoriya-kun," Iida gestures to him with a quick chop of his hand. "Do you—"

"No, thank you," John instantly says, glancing up before focusing on his notebook again.

"'N...No thank you?'"

"I don't want to be class representative. Pick someone else."

"I..." Iida falters in bewilderment before he adjusts his glasses. "Even so, you have the most votes, so you—"

"I pass the position of class representative to Yaoyorozu," John decides to say and pretends not to notice the confused looks Katsuki and Hitoshi are sending him, nor hear the small noise of surprise from the girl in question. The girl he voted to take the position in the first place because he's confident she'd be great at it.

Iida, almost gaping like a fish, soon gets back on track, asking Yaoyorozu if she accepts it, to which she agrees (with a hint of hesitation, oddly enough). And one thing led to another, and Iida is appointed Vice, at the expense of waking up Aizawa from his nap due to how high-spirited the squarish boy was in his impromptu speech about duties and setting an example.

A few of their classmates were audibly let down that John didn't take the job (for some reason) but everyone ultimately cheered for Yaoyorozu and Iida in their new duties, accepting them as their representatives for the school year.

Well, almost everyone.

"I voted you to be the one to wrangle all the dumbasses and for what."

"Calm your combustible tit*, TNT, he already said he wasn't interested."

"I have ears, you bootleg troll doll."

"And yet you still didn't hear that he wasn't interested in being the class rep. You might wanna get that checked by a doctor."

"I am gonna punt your insomniac ass to Jupiter."

"Ever the poet, aren'tcha, Bomb Voyage."

John continues his venture to the cafeteria, debating leaving those two behind to eat somewhere else. Maybe he'll get lucky and find a secret nook or something to stay in during lunch break.

~

Yaoyorozu Momo likes to believe she's competent enough in almost everything, from playing the piano to using her Quirk.

Growing up, she's been told that she's a gifted girl with an equally talented ability, which is grounds for her to be an effective leader. Yet for all that, she can't bring herself to believe she has the makings of one. She's confident in her understanding of the molecular composition of all objects, in her combat abilities, and in her studies, but for all that, Momo can't say the same when leadership is concerned (because someone will always be more suitable than her; someone more competent, quicker, calmer, better).

But she was willing to give it a try. To lead her classmates and set a good example. Because if she's being honest with herself, she wants nothing more than to assure others that she can be relied on.

Of course, it's when she gets what she wants in a roundabout way she begins to doubt herself.

"Midoriya-san, why didn't you accept the class representative position?"

Despite the question coming out of nowhere—Momo practically interrupted his meal when she asked to sit with him and his group of friends; her mother would surely be appalled—Midoriya continues eating his lunch, nonplussed.

"I wasn't interested," he says, straight to the point yet not unkindly.

Momo gazes down at her untouched miso bowl, stewing in her thoughts. "But then, why pass it to me? Iida-san seems more capable..."

It's admittedly embarrassing airing out pieces of her insecurities like this, but Midoriya just has this air of dependability and transparency to him. While it's only been a day since they've become acquainted, Momo gets the impression that she can tell him anything and not be judged harshly.

"You too," Midoriya states as if it's a fact and it leaves Momo furrowing her brows. He sounds so certain.

"That's right, Yaoyorozu-kun!" Iida interjects with a swift chop of his hand. "Your intellect and battle prowess are just as awe-inspiring as your ability to analyze any situation quickly, so your position as class representative is very much earned!"

"I think so too, Yaoyorozu-chan!" The gravity quirk user, Uraraka Ochako, adds with a smile. "You'd do great as Class Rep!"

Slumped over the table, Midoriya's other friend, Aiyama Hitoshi, lazily raises a hand and offers an equally lazy but sincere grin, "Yeah, what she said."

Bakugou simply grunts with a short nod.

The support is honestly a surprise. Like Midoriya, Momo had only just met these people for a day (not to mention had a Battle Trial against two of them), and yet they share their encouragement so freely with her. A little flushed from the attention, she averts her gaze and stares at her lunch tray instead.

"How are you all so sure?"—

INTRUDER ALERT, INTRUDER ALERT, ALL STUDENTS EVACUATE IMMEDIATELY—

Alarms suddenly blare, startling Momo and the other table occupants (except for Midoriya, oddly enough). On all sides of the cafeteria, students jump from their seats, voices rising in panic, and for a lack of a better term, chaos reigns with everyone plowing their way out in distress, consequently overcrowding the hallways.

Momo will forever be grateful for the calmness Midoriya emanates because she's sure that she'd be easily swept up in the panic otherwise. At Iida's insistence, they follow behind the students at a safe distance (if Momo looks carefully enough, she might find some of the older students accidentally hitting others just from their close proximities).

"What the hell," Bakugou mutters. "It's a f*cking mess out here."

"No kidding," Aiyama comments, combing a hand through his unruly hair in displeasure. "Somebody's gonna get seriously hurt at this rate."

Momo swallows her nerves at the thought because she's almost certain things will escalate beyond just a few bruises.

In the ocean of teens flooding the hallway, Momo spots Kirishima and Kaminari desperately trying to calm down the students despite being jostled around. At the same moment, despite their best efforts to keep away at a safe distance, her group gets swept up in the swarm, and it gets even messier from there.

Momo's heart pounds heavily in her chest, her blood running cold from the sheer hysteria and the realization that she got separated from her group. Where were the others? Are they alright?

She didn't have time to wonder when she's been harshly bumped into by a student, making her stumble until her back hits something warm. She veers her head to see who she collided with and relief washes over her quickly.

Calm and outwardly unfazed by everything, Midoriya nods his head to the large hallway window he's pressed against, a silent cue for her to look.

The mob of reporters from this morning is storming through the school gates that should've kept them out, unequivocally causing a ruckus about All Might, while the teachers attempt to get them to leave. So that's what's setting off the alarm.

(Seeing as how the media is acting when the Number One Hero is concerned, it's no wonder her parents don't mainly like hanging around them for longer than necessary during important events.)

Momo grunts when a stray elbow hits her arm, and her mind races to find a solution to help calm everyone down. At this rate, there'll be more casualties among the student body before the teachers can escort the reporters out.

What do I do, what do I do, what do I do...

A hand stops another person from crashing into Momo, and she traces it back to the stoic face of Midoriya.

What would Midoriya do?

He thinks things through. He analyzes things, just like her, and comes up with the most viable resolution to end things quickly and efficiently. Momo nods to herself. She can't fumble like this now. She is the class representative, after all.

Curbing her hesitation, Momo scans the whole area for something that could grab everyone's attention so they'll know they aren't in danger. She thinks of creating a megaphone to make her voice louder but given the restricted space, she doubts she can even create anything without being jostled around.

"Yaoyorozu-kun! Midoriya-kun!"

Iida's voice rises above the noise, and Momo finds him and Uraraka nudging their way towards them. "Have you seen what's going on outside?"

"It's those reporters from this morning!" Uraraka adds, frazzled.

"We must inform the rest of the students! Tell them there's nothing to worry about!"

Momo wholeheartedly agrees but what else can they do? What other options are available? Once more, she scours for a solution, half-baked plans forming in her head until she spots the green sign above the corridor's entryway. It's high enough that everyone can see it and wide enough that anyone could stand on it and yell that everything is alright.

Instantly, an idea hits.

"Iida-san!" The boy calls to attention quickly. "Can get up to that exit sign and shout as loud as you can about what's happening? I'm certain your voice will carry over for all the students to hear!"

Iida blinks in surprise before he finds the sign above, later nodding his head, determined. "Understood! Uraraka-kun, could you use your Quirk on me? I'll handle the rest!"

Although confused, Uraraka does as she was asked, and Iida, as promised, handles the rest. With a burst of his engine Quirk, he makes it to the top of the exit sign with a slam, and with a big breath of air, he grabs the students' attention with what he saw outside the window. He assures them that they're all safe, and—like magic—manages to calm them all down. (Momo is utterly glad that Iida is Vice Rep. She can't imagine herself raising her voice to the extent Iida did.)

Eventually, everybody regains their composure and slowly trickles out of the hallway and back towards the cafeteria (with a few students making their way to the clinic) allowing Momo the space to breathe. Finally, it's over.

"Well," Aiyama drawls, approaching them with an irked Bakugou, a relieved Kirishima, and a confused Kaminari in tow. "That was something."

"No sh*t, Eyebags, it was a f*cking disaster."

Ignoring Bakugou's comment, Aiyama gestures to where Iida is currently getting down from his temporary perch with Uraraka's help and asks, "Okay, so who came up with the idea that Vice Rep should act as a human intercom?"

"It was Yaoyorozu-chan's idea!" Uraraka answers jovially as soon as she and Iida are close to their group. Flushing from the amount of attention she's receiving, Momo fiddles with her fingers, thinking the floor to be an intriguing thing to look at.

"Huh, that's pretty awesome."

"That's so manly! Nice thinking, Yaoyorozu!"

"Man, you really saved our butts back there, Yaomomo!"

"Indeed, Yaoyorozu-kun is truly deserving of the title of Class Representative!"

Ahhh, this is too much...

She appreciates the sentiments, but there are just so many compliments she can take before flushing into a tomato. She received compliments before during galas and special events from influential people but it's different when they're from classmates and friends who recognize her efforts so genuinely. Without thinking about it, Momo gravitates her gaze over to her quiet comrade.

Midoriya doesn't smile nor does he join in on the praising parade. But he does nod at her, his expression not so intense and judgmental. Momo, in return, smiles in appreciation.

Maybe she does have what it takes after all.

~

Somewhere in a hidden, dingy bar, a young, spindly man littered with severed hands grumbles impatiently whilst playing with a video game console. In the background, a lonely television displays the news of the reporter-break-in. The man clicks his tongue.

"Oi, Kurogiri. Are the quest items prepared already or what? I wanna turn those disgusting hero pests into dust already."

Behind the counter, a man of purple mist answers with conviction (like he's programmed to), "Be patient, Shigaraki Tomura. Our time will come soon and your efforts will be recognized by the world."

"I've been patient long enough!" The gaunt man, Shigaraki Tomura, snaps, nearly slamming his console on the table in his anger. "I played my turn in breaking that stupid school's defenses but what happened to that damn scout?" He doesn't let Kurogiri answer. He continues, incensed one way or another behind the pale blue hand over his face, "He's a shifty bastard when he first walked in with unknown stats. Who knows if he even did his job right—"

"As a matter of fact, Crusty, I did."

A tall, rugged figure, dressed in dark street clothes, steps into the bar. An air of defiance and disregard oozes from him and it pisses Shigaraki off. He snarls, "Kreuger. What took you so f*cking long?"

Pissing Shigaraki off, even more, the newcomer smirks coyly. He holds up a thin folder and waves it in the air as if taunting an irate child with candy that's just out of reach. "Oh, y'know, took my sweet time, enjoyed the scenery, smelled the flowers. Anyways, I stole a pic of this while everybody else was occupied with the whole reporter break-in thing. Nobody even knew I was there."

Kreuger carelessly tosses the folder on the counter, leaning back on the edge afterward because he's a punk. "Then, I went n' had Giran print it. You're welcome, by the way."

Shigaraki only scoffs. There's no way he's thanking this guy for doing a job that's as simple as gaining mana by killing low-level mobs. He snatches the folder with three of his fingers. "I don't like you."

Kreuger just smirks in reply and it takes a considerable amount of self-restraint on Shigaraki's part not to dust him then and there. Loathe as he is to admit it, the bastard's Quirk is useful against Pro Heroes (at least, that's what Giran promised). The same can't be said about the guy himself, however; he always slips away like a rat in the walls and it's like pulling teeth with plastic straws just to find him again, even with Giran's help. Annoying piece of sh*t. "You're so annoying. Why are you even here?" Shigaraki sneers.

"As a favor, mostly," Kreuger drawls with a shrug. Ugh, what a dick. "Besides, I've got my personal motives."

"And those are?"

"Finding this one bastard who keeps ruining my fun with his nobleness and beat the sh*t out of him in the worst way possible," is all Kreuger tells him as if he's talking about the weather, and Shigaraki can't be bothered to pry further. He'll just ask Giran for info if he's curious enough.

"Whatever. Just don't get in my way once we bring this society to the ground." Shigaraki shoots a particular seething look at the newbie, thinking it'd be absolutely easy to kill you, you damn rat. But sacrificing party members before a planned ambush isn't a good strategy so Shigaraki will just have to tolerate the asshole's presence. For now. If he ever toes out of line, at least Shigaraki has a reasonable excuse to get rid of him permanently and not have Sensei scolding him for it.

Kreuger peers back at him, the orange lighting of the room making his toxic pink eyes glow ominously against the black of his sclera. "Sure. So, what's next in the plan, boss?"

There's only one answer to that. And it's clearer than any dream Shigaraki ever had since he was a child.

"Kill them all."

(and in the corner of the room, cast in heavy shadows, a bulky creature made by inhuman hands waits mindlessly with the indelible purpose of following its master even to hell.)

~

The next day finds John and his classmates in a bus en route to a remote training facility just within UA's territory.

It was a sudden thing, Aizawa announcing the trip just yesterday and barely giving them any more reprieve or info other than costumes not being a requirement (at least John has an excuse to ditch his hero attire in exchange for the regular PE uniform, only saving his gloves, boots, and holsters holding his weapons). John—despite not ever experiencing it himself in a regular school—thinks there should be some kind of permission slip for parents to sign but given that this isn't a run-of-the-mill high school, he opts to believe they're not a prerequisite.

Later on, he learned that the purpose of the trip (as explained by Aizawa on the bus) is rescue training, something John never quite underwent as an adolescent under Ruska Roma's tutelage. But he's saved people before as Midoriya Izuku. He should already be familiar with the idea of "rescuing" considering he's been doing it for some time with Tsukauchi and occasionally Katsuki as his witnesses. Although, it's probably (absolutely) not normal for a kid to be apprehending criminals with ease.

On the other hand, John is hardly a normal guy, and his classmates seem to pick up on that.

"Hey, Midoriya-chan."

It was the frog-like girl in the class, Asui Tsuyu, who called him while the rest of their classmates chat with each other. Her particular wide-eyed stare doesn't bother him per se, but it does have him instinctively tense ever so slightly (when you're getting stared at, expect a knife close to your back when you're not looking anymore) to which he tries to relax.

He's surrounded by classmates, John reminds himself constantly. Peers rather than people trying to kill him.

Asui seems to take his attention on her as a sign to continue. "I usually say what's on my mind so I was wondering how you learned to fight so well in the Battle Trials. It looked almost professional."

Ah. Of course. He should've expected this to be brought up sooner or later. "I practiced a lot."

(He doesn't bring up that he had prior experience before joining UA, before becoming Izuku. He'll never mention it to anyone, not even his mother and Katsuki. While the idea grazed his thoughts back then, he resolved to hide that disgusting part of his history away from everyone. That secret will stay with him to his—and Midoriya Izuku's—grave.)

Beside him, Katsuki snorts under his breath, "That's a light way to put it."

"Yeah, but you looked so cool, dude!" Kaminari adds with a grin. "It's like you were a ninja or- or a super skilled secret agent or something! Your moves were hella smooth too like you really knew what you were doing!"

John simply nods at that because, yes, he did know what he was doing. (Well, most of it. Half the time, it had been muscle memory—or, simply just memory. Not that he'd want to ponder over that occurrence at the moment.)

"On top of that, you did all those sick moves without a Quirk, so you're ultra-awesome!" Sero Hanta, the kid with tape dispensers for elbows, carries on with a smile that reminds John of a fictional Japanese cat.

"No kidding! And hey, since when have you learned to do those cool flips and punches anyway?" Kaminari leans forward on his seat, eager as a puppy for its treats, and John tries to come up with a simple answer. But Katsuki beats him to it, looking rather smug with himself. Hitoshi, meanwhile, shakes his head lightly with a lazy grin, rolling his eyes.

"He learned how to kick ass since elementary."

The silence might as well be awkward if not for the looks of admiration and awe on Kaminari, Sero, and Kirishima's faces. John elects to ignore them by staring at his shoes rather than their expectant stares.

He's not especially acclimatized to receiving admiration for his skills with the kind of spirit his classmates have. Take Zero as an example—though he was more of an obsessed fanatic with a one-sided vendetta against him than an impressed teenager. Now that particular meeting left a poor taste in John's mouth and he wishes to put it to rest.

Though he supposes he can do that by indulging in his classmates' wonder and agreeing to Katsuki's statement with a silent nod.

Kaminari pushes on with stars in his eyes, leaning close to John's personal space. "That's. So. Epic!"

"And manly!" Kirishima adds with equal zest. "You gotta teach us some of your moves sometime, Midoriya! I bet it'd be fun!"

(It wasn't fun. The first time he learned how to fight and the times after that were never fun. It broke him and made him into something monstrous.)

"You say that," Hitoshi then chooses to jump in, "but once you start training with him, it's over for you."

An exaggeration on Hitoshi's part, quite frankly; John didn't coach him that hard. If anything, his teaching style wasn't as strict and grueling as the Director had been (although that was primarily because he rarely taught anyone anything. He just wasn't the mentor type, and nobody younger than him had ever approached him for personal lessons.) But he lets his insomniac friend retell his experience training beside John and Katsuki months before, tuning out the gasps and whispered compliments that fill the bus.

By the grace of some god up there, Katsuki withholds exposing John's "ventures" once everyone gradually turns the topic to training regiments and the science behind childhood martial arts (for some reason). Instead, his friend elbows him discretely, muttering, "I think you're gonna rock their sh*t once they see how you really fight, Deku."

John is unsure what Katsuki means by that; there's nothing inherently groundbreaking about his fighting style. Unconventional, maybe, but not revolutionary. Not to mention, if their classmates did see him fight seriously, they'd most probably steer clear away from him but that's a faraway bridge if John plays his cards right. He just hopes that nothing would force him to that kind of scenario so soon into the school year. "Sure."

Much later, they arrive at their destination.

As declared by their teacher, the facility is dubbed the Unforeseen Simulation Joint, or USJ for short. It doesn't escape John's notice that almost all of his classmates whisper in wonderment, "Universal Studios Japan?" Or something close to that.

The building stands tall and proud, not unlike a colosseum with a glass dome roof. John thinks that it could hold a candle to the size of the Ruska Roma (but considering the Director's taste, she'd likely complain about the homespun furnishing). So, this must be where they'll have their rescue training. Maybe the inside is just as expansive as the outside.

And it is; areas of various disasters lay in different parts of the building, with a clear plaza at the center. To any regular civilian, this would've counted as a theme park. Maybe the others' Universal Studios Japan comparison wasn't so off the mark.

"Class, meet your instructor for today," Aizawa announces once everyone enters the facility. In front, a figure in an astronaut costume gives them a friendly wave. Uraraka, John notices, seems to perk up at their special guest. She's probably a fan of them.

"Hello, everyone! I'm Thirteen, the Space Hero, and your head instructor for today's rescue training!"

From there, the hero discusses the purposes of rescue training and the importance of using their Quirks to provide help than malicious harm. It's an honorable speech, all things considered. Even Katsuki seems to reflect on it a little but maintains the unflinching front of a future number one hero.

The speech ends and everyone starts to chat with one another excitedly about their first rescue training. John stays largely quiet and out of the way. In the corner of his vision, he observes Aizawa approaching Thirteen and talking with them in hushed tones. Shortly after, Thirteen holds up three fingers, and Aizawa—if you know what to look for—slouches in a disgruntled posture, digging his hands deeper into his pockets.

Hm. Peculiar. But ultimately, none of John's concerns. It could just be a faculty thing that doesn't warrant his attention anyway.

He turns to listen to Hitoshi and Uraraka talk about her admiration for Thirteen and—

He hears an indistinct buzzing in the air, comparable to a microphone unplugged from a speaker. He tastes a faint tang of electricity, and it's not coming from Kaminari. The others don't seem to notice except for the student with multiple appendages (Shouji Mezou, he remembers). Overhead, the lights flicker, and a heaviness rolls in John's gut; a warning of the danger that's creeping up on the edges.

"Oi, Deku, what's going on?" Katsuki murmurs to him, clearly noticing John's sudden behavior. The others are still unaware.

There was never any use sugarcoating things with his friend so John answers promptly, even if it's on the foundation of a hunch, "Something's wrong."

The flickering continues and the buzzing grows louder.

Don't let it be an attack, an ambush, an assassination...

Right as John attempts to warn their teacher, a dark swirling vortex materializes in the plaza before anyone else realizes it. It brings a coldness to the building despite the open space and John can only recognize it as death.

('Something wicked this way comes,' he remembered reading. Everything wicked in the world, he eventually learned, would always come.)

Aizawa's attention moves to that portal with urgency.

Even from this distance, John distinguishes a man covered in disconnected hands exiting the shadowy portal, a presage of a calamity. Behind him, more figures follow, all menacing and clearly not involved in the rescue simulation.

All at once, everything takes a sudden turn.

Aizawa wastes no time in warning them to stay back. In the same breath, the Underground hero puts on his goggles and his capture weapon rises to the sign of danger.

More portals show up like oily pools. Dozens upon dozens of villains come into sight with their weapons and Quirks at the ready until it seemed like an army of them packs into the plaza. They're not here to merely scare and hurt. No, John is certain that they're also here to kill.

At a speed of a seasoned hero, Eraserhead leaps to action, and things fall apart from there.

They all try to run at Thirteen's order, with John having to stop an incensed Katsuki from making the stupid decision of joining their teacher in the fray. John also stops Hitoshi from lingering near the top of the stairs with a call of his name, taking a brisk note of the anxious look that was on his friend's face as he watched Eraserhead fend off the villains with no trouble.

There was no time to stop and question; they have to keep moving or they'll die.

They don't make it far. A person made of blackened mist manifests before them, guarding their way as Cerberus did in the Underworld. His body expands like that of a wall made of inky smoke yet he smells of ice and blood rather than ash and flames.

Thirteen readies their Quirk, popping open their fingertips, but despite that, John can't help but put a hand over his gun and prepare for the worse. (He does not think of dead bodies scattered at his feet. He does not think of houses burning and starving, beaten dogs. He does not think of bullets drilling through foreheads, setting off the end of his life.)

"Greetings, golden eggs of UA," the misty figure intones like a hardened soldier, a pitiless machine, a harbinger of death. Golden eyes glow ominously against the shadows, a false light at the end of the tunnel. "We are the League of Villains and our goal is to kill All Might."

John should've knocked on wood.

~

This. f*cking. Sucks.

Katsuki isn't even surprised he got stuck with the Canadian-leaf-haired moron in the landslide zone; the both of them had charged at the Warp Quirk f*cker earlier with the sole intent of knocking him away from their class's escape route but that didn't do sh*t. The bastard still got to use his Quirk so now, here Katsuki is, dealing with a bunch of thugs who thought it'd be quick and easy since they're "dealing with a bunch of brats".

That was their mistake. sh*tty Hair doesn't let up with all the numbers; he just plows through them like a bulldozer.

Katsuki can respect that side about him but this whole situation still f*cking sucks. (He's so gonna get sh*t on by Deku and his stupid f*cking stares later but that's a problem for Future Katsuki to deal with.)

"Watch your six, sh*tty Hair!"

Aiming a direct but nonlethal blast at a punk-ass villain trying to club his otherwise occupied classmate on the head, Katsuki sincerely hopes that they make it out of here in one piece because there's no way in any of the nine circles of hell will Katsuki die so easily to a sad bunch of low-grade villain sh*ts. He still has a score to settle with that mist bastard.

"Oh, thanks for the save, bro!" sh*tty Hair thanks him, swiftly and easily taking out two goons in the process using his hardened arms.

Katsuki just grunts in response and felled three other villains with relative ease. For a group that calls themselves the League of Villains, they sure don't live up to the f*cking hype. These guys are scrubs, especially since half of the bastards present in this zone get remarkably floored to kingdom come by two teenagers. If anything else, this is just f*cking sad.

"I wonder how everyone's doing right now," sh*tty Hair says to nobody because Katsuki isn't wondering that. Not at all. Deku is a f*cking unit on his own and Eyebags is as clever on his feet as he is a cheeky son of a bitch when it comes to mind games. Plus, he saw what the class is capable of by observing the Trials. There's not much to worry about.

He socks a bastard in the nose for trying to sneak one up on him from behind. "They're probably f*cking peachy. Just focus on the fight first, dumbass, then you can worry about their asses!"

"I know they can handle themselves—" he pummels a few more villains to unconsciousness, "—I'm just a little worried for Midoriya," sh*tty Hair confesses, not letting go of his Hardening Quirk as he scans the place for any more sh*tty villains slinking around. "These villains are no joke."

Well, that's stupid as f*ck. Didn't those guys see what went down during the Battle Trials, or was that a collective fever dream or some sh*t?

"You should be more worried about these assholes instead of Deku," Katsuki remarks because he knows what Deku is capable of, and he's a billion universes away from competent and weak. Katsuki should know; he bore witness to a sh*t load of his friend's scrimmages, the Sludge Bastard incident being a prime example of how goddamn resilient he is (even though that particular stunt nearly gave Katsuki a f*cking heart attack).

And these E-grade villains aren't worth sh*t.

"Huh? Why?"

Katsuki blasts away a couple more villains who try to get a one-up on him. He hears heavy breathing from above. "'Cuz Deku isn't a weak ass bastard, unlike these guys."

Instantly, a chameleon-like villain jumps from the wall, revealing themselves with a battle cry (like an absolute dumbass), and Katsuki responds with another nonlethal blast, knocking him out cold.

sh*tty Hair looks unconvinced, which pisses Katsuki off a little. Fine, he can understand the doubt since all of them are barely f*cking BFFs or whatever, and he only knew that Deku learned how to fight since he was a kid but sh*tty Hair should've at least remembered the Battle Trials the other day. If Deku can single-handedly take on Katsuki with just his wits and weapons—without a Quirk—then he can handle these piss-poor morons who call themselves villains.

"Well- I mean, yeah, Midoriya's strong," sh*tty Hair starts. He headbutts a hefty bastard motionless. "And he's super manly and all, but without a Quirk—"

"But nothing, sh*tty Hair," Katsuki cuts him off, teeth grinding as he punches a twiggy bitch's lights out. "Deku can take care of his own sh*t and do it quicker than probably half of this f*cking class."

That's not even an overstatement. Deku stopped near-robberies in under ten minutes before so who's to say he can't finish whatever the f*ck this situation is in less than an hour? Katsuki is probably giving that guy a lot more credit than he needs, but hearing people doubt Deku (even after demonstrating his skills in H-f*cking-D) drives him to say something about it.

Because nobody looks down on Deku and gets the f*ck away with it without getting their sh*t rocked.

"You sound pretty confident about that, bro," sh*tty Hair says, not in a mocking tone, but in a curious one. He gives another villain a nasty right hook.

"That's because I know what the hell I'm talking about. Now enough talk and more ass-kicking!"

"Gotcha, bro!"

Katsuki will worry about his friend and Eyebags once this is over. If there's anything he's more sure about other than his goal to become the number one hero, it's Deku causing one hell of a f*cking storm and instilling the fear of God into every last one of these assholes.

~

In a blink, darkness swallows him whole and for a second, John Wick thought it was over.

The blackened skies reveal no stars but only the blinding lights of the dome ceiling. He feels the air hit his back and soon the impact of metal fences and balcony railings bruise him on the way down, a modicum of betrayal from Winston's actions worsening the blows.

He's back on the ground. Alive.

Colliding with the floor knocks the air out of him but it's not what he isn't used to by now. He rises slowly, ignoring the dull ache in his shoulder blades, and takes stock of his position.

He's in a notably empty office building by himself. No cubicles, cabinets, desks; nothing. Outside, rain pours heavily, with raindrops hitting the window harshly like the distant sound of an audience clapping (or the sound of a million guns going off at once). Taking into account that this location could possess artificial means of reenacting disasters, he's likely in some sort of zone meant for relentless storms like this, unless he's transported to a different area entirely. John can only pin his hopes that he's still in the USJ.

With how fairly dark the office he's in is, he carefully adjusts his vision to scan the place for an exit.

Half of him wonders where the rest of his classmates are. The last he's seen of them was when the misty figure—unmistakably the one responsible for the portals—manipulated Thirteen's Quirk against them after Katsuki and Kirishima tried to knock the villain out of the way in a precipitous bout of heroism.

At the reminder of his impulsive friend, John mentally grouses; so much for preventing him from doing anything stupid during a crisis. He'll think about that later, though. Right now, he needs to find a way out and maybe find some of his classmates while he's at it. If what that mist man declared earlier was the truth—that they're only here to kill All Might—then Class 1-A should be relatively unharmed. Mentally distressed from today's events, most likely, but unharmed. Or something close to it.

(He's not a religious man by nature. But he prays, all the same.)

However, just as John was about to head to the only glass door of the room, he hears footsteps coming his way so he tenses. On the threshold of the glass door, another figure saunters in view, effectively cutting off John's means of escape. No one else arrives. For a second, John can't make out who this person is, the dimness of the room providing difficulty in deciphering their features but then—

Toxic pink eyes cut through the dark, and John knew right then that his escape will be nothing short of a Herculean task.

"Hey, V. Long time no see."

Kreuger smirks at him, so self-assured as usual with his hands buried in the pockets of his pants.

He hasn't changed at all since the last time John encountered him on the streets. The man still styles his ashy blond hair in such a way that it nearly covers his left eye. His attire remains the same as well; dark leather trench coat over a shirt with a torn neckline, black pants, and boots to make himself seem taller and more intimidating at night. The only other color evident on his person was the bright, nauseating pink of Kreuger's eyes, enhanced by the black sclera as he looks ready to start a fight. (He was always ready to start a fight when John is in the picture, evidently.)

John has no time for this.

"Aw, you're not gonna at least say hello? Well damn, UA must've leeched the politeness outta ya."

Like in their previous encounters, John remains silent. Watching. Waiting.

Kreuger—among the other occasional thugs who show up just to fight him—is someone he puts up his guard around at all times. John learned to do that after the first incident when he was thirteen. Dealing with the villain stopped being an issue as he grasped the tricks and solutions right up until Kreuger eventually lied low.

However, people change. They adjust and adapt. Who knows how much Kreuger changed in the last year or so while he had been in hiding? Or out of John's sight and mind, anyway.

John makes sure to keep the weapon on his hip hidden from sight, angling his body away slightly. He orders himself not to use his guns for this. Behind him, raindrops patter noisily against the tall office windows, creating a ghost of a familiar scenario from long ago.

Kreuger's smirk grows. "Oh, still sticking with the quiet routine, huh? Fine by me." He removes his hands from his pockets and cracks his knuckles, and a wispy glow exudes from his irises like a haze. "It won't be long before I make you beg for you life."

At full tilt, Kreuger goes in for the kill.

John quickly responds by whipping out his staff from its holster and moving to strike at Kreuger's face to disorient him and preferably have him squeeze his eyes on instinct from the impact. His opponent ducks at the last second, however, and shifts to give a solid punch to his face but John blocks it, shoving it away and landing a swift knee to the man's side.

Kreuger staggers at the hard hit but recovers shortly enough to leap and attempt another attack. John evades and serves calculated and sharp jabs with his staff, a few of which the villain repels or stops entirely. It seems like the guy's gotten better.

At some point, Kreuger manages to grab ahold of John's weapon and chucks it to the side with a gleeful cackle, leaving him to use his bare hands; not that it changes anything.

He's careful in his attacks, going for the blind spots and vulnerable openings. He's successful in landing them without hesitation in his strength but other times, not as much. Kreuger gets a few lucky strikes but John stays on his feet, retaliating in kind with a well-aimed left hook to the jaw, forcing Kreuger to lose his bearings for a moment.

All the while, John painstakingly tries to shift near his only escape route because he can't keep himself occupied with Kreuger longer than necessary. If he knocks the guy out here and now without any delay, he can go find his misplaced classmates quicker.

But as it always goes with the sh*tty luck of John Wick, he gets intercepted by Kreuger, who grows more and more thrilled and invested as the fight continues, and he's reminded again of Zero and his odd obsession with John. How long has it been already? Minutes? Hours? Whatever it is, he's getting pretty fed up trying to shake Kreuger off like a persistent fly invading his space.

"Oi, oi, you're getting a little distracted, V! That's not good," Kreuger jeers. He aims a straight right; John deflects it with an arm and tries to hook it to inflict a fast strike to the throat but the villain blocks that too. John kicks at the former's knee and keeps his distance, never lowering his guard. And Kreuger comes back, screeching like an impatient child in a toy store. "Pay attention to me!"

Kreuger's attacks grow faster and John, in kind, matches up to him, never missing a beat or a step. This triggers the man into another one of his emotionally driven spiels when the adrenaline of a fight starts to loosen his tongue.

"I've been waiting a whole f*ckin' year to get back at ya, y'know!"

He goes for a swing at John's left; John catches hold of it, twists it, and delivers a heavy palm strike up the man's chin. Kreuger doesn't let up, even with that.

"You always annoyed me, stickin' your nose into my business. And for a snotty brat, you bested me more times than I'm comfortable with!"

Kreuger tries to punt his solar plexus but John narrowly avoids it and blocks the incoming boot with both arms, which gives the villain the fleeting chance to inflict a hefty punch to his face. John, though, has been punched by worse.

"But now that I'm rubbin' shoulders with this group, I feel hella f*cking lucky—even more now that I know you're one of the hot-shots at UA, 'cause I get to brag to everybody that I killed a pompous hero-wannabe brat!"

God, Kreuger's even more of a chatterbox than Santino and Iosef combined.

Running thin on time and decidedly done with this, John draws nearer to deny his opponent any openings. He parries another incoming jab, knees Kreuger in the gut, and uses that vulnerability to clutch the man's hair in both hands, ramming his head against the nearby wall with a resounding bam. The man stumbles but doesn't fall unconscious. In place of the expected groan of pain or something equivalent to that, wheezing chuckles escape Kreuger as he hunches over.

"Ahh, as 'xpected o' ya... Ya ne'er pull yer punch's..." Kreuger drawls, almost too soft for John to pick up. But he's not particularly willing to stay back and hear more of what Kreuger has to say.

He moves to deal the finishing blow (another hit to the face should do) until—

Kreuger's eyes lock onto his and the villain activates his Quirk at the last second before John could even remember to look away.

The whole fight, John's been avoiding looking at Kreuger's face directly, having committed to memory what his Quirk is from that first encounter. He made sure that, whenever they'd cross each other, he'd focus on anything but his eyes because—as the saying went—they were the windows to the soul. John should've remembered his lesson; nothing will ever be easy for him.

"Guess I'll do the same."

And shadows from a time long passed emerge from the floor, the walls, and the ceiling, inky as they pool into large puddles, then rising from them like mannequins. A dark pink aura surrounds them, soon converging into their eyes until the dark fog dissipates, and John Wick faces the ghosts of his doings. Again.

But as he always did in his countless nightmares, he avoids them. (Again. Always running, always escaping, for there's no rest for the wicked like him when his sins start catching up.)

Viggo leads the charge, knife in hand. Following behind him, Iosef plows through, still reckless, still thinking he's above facing consequences. Ares and Cassian run at him from both sides, weapons drawn to settle the score once more without any drinks between them. Santino and his sister watch from the sidelines, grim reminders of his mistakes. More faces show up unbidden; Ms. Perkins, Zero, the Adjudicator, Sofia, the Bowery King, the Director, Marcus, Winston. A reunion that he never wants to attend.

John avoids them all rather than what he vowed to his old forgotten friend ("I'll kill them. I'll kill them all.") because how can he kill something that's been dead for a long time? He had long since come to this conclusion after the Battle Trials. What happened with Katsuki was…an accident. A lapse in judgment or sense.

While it wouldn't have been that dire considering he had paintballs for bullets, his hands still went for the gun, aiming to end it all. But here, he knows the truth: these ghosts are as real as the history that binds them to him in his nightmares, only grazing him in times of weakness.

His attacks hardly leave a scratch on them anyway. So he evades, and dodges, going straight for the source of this revival of his nightmares.

Kreuger, the whole time, just laughs, unrestrained.

Someone got lucky. John gets toppled to the ground by a feral Iosef and soon the shadows crowd around him at the last second, swarming him until all he could see was infinite black. Mangled voices from his memories overlap with Kreuger's cackles, the familiar words of anger, accusation, betrayal, and misplaced admiration invading his senses until he can't tell who's talking anymore.

He doesn't struggle as much as he thought he wanted to. (Because deep down, he knows this is his punishment long overdue.)

Ebony hands clasp his limbs like chains, slowly dragging him down to their version of hell, and when he feels phantom hands wrap around his neck, he—

—he's not as active in conversation with Mom at breakfast, only ever answering with soft hums and nods of his head, but she doesn't push nor prod or judge. She simply pecks his cheek with a gentle 'good morning' as she slides a plate of omurice in front of him.

Oh. That's right. Mom's waiting for him at home. She's waiting for Izuku to come home.

John can't do to her what Helen's death did to him. His mother doesn't deserve that.

With the sort of renewed strength that drags him out of bed ever since Helen died, John pulls away from the shadows and rises to the dim light. It's a struggle, still, having to fight this invisible pressure on his body, but he is a stubborn bastard who doesn't seem to know the meaning of stopping. It seems the effects of Kreuger's Quirk are wearing away.

The gray-tinted faces of the people in his past life remain blank when he breaks free. They never contort into the various expressions he'd been used to. They still fight to keep him chained down but John ultimately wins (as he always had, with risks and ramifications attached) and he smoothly walks through the inky fog of lost memories, shoulders squared and focus sharpened. He spots Kreuger now on his feet again, his expression on the balance between giddiness and frustration. In his haste, he tries to go for a sloppy but no less powerful punch but John catches it completely in his hand and kicks his legs underneath him.

John shortly stands over him, silent, prepared for any attack. And this time, he stares dead-set into Kreuger's eyes, not faltering for a second.

(It'll be easy to choke him, to suffocate him, to crack his neck and end it right here and now. It's so easy. But the blood and grime will be on Midoriya Izuku's hands if he did it. So he doesn't.)

"Still the same thing, I see!" Kreuger dissolves into a fit of hysterical laughter under him, the pink glow of his eyes sputtering out from overuse. "Hey, I bet your little friends don't know that about you, huh? That's f*cking rich! I wonder what those little sh*ts would think once they find out about the skeletons hiding in your f*cking closet!"

He says nothing. Kreuger continues.

"Man, you're so f*cking cursed! You can't even get over them, can ya? How many lives will it take until you can't bear it anymore, huh? How much blood will you spill until you're satisfied? A demon in disguise you'll always be, Viridian Devil—"

John cuts him off by knocking him out with a quick and direct blow to the head. The man truly does have the propensity to monologue when he's in a mood. But at least he got him to finally shut up.

After rolling his shoulders to ease up the strain building up, he collects his fallen staff right by the window and, not for the first time, decides to keep this particular experience in a box full of his other related incidents. Something to pry open with a therapist (unlikely) or in another life (likely).

Katsuki will surely try to wring this whole ordeal out of him until the stars die out but for now, John takes a breath. At least here, the ghosts trailing his path aren't taking the places of any of his peers. At least here, he doesn't need to take another life.

Sheathing his staff, he walks to the exit. Hopefully, now he'll have an easier time leaving this place and setting out on his undertaking of reuniting with his class.

When he finally leaves the office, though, a couple of other villains stand waiting deep in the hallway, some holding weapons and others with offensive Quirks. Wonderful.

Beyond that stands the exit door, the glowing green sign above it a clear indication of its use. They notice his presence immediately and a considerable number of them visibly backpedal, stammering and stumbling over their feet.

"O-Oi, oi, is that—"

"The Viridian Devil!"

"Oh god, why him?!"

"He took out Kreuger—!"

"We're so f*cking dead—"

John sighs behind his teeth. As tired as he now is with this whole situation, he knows he can't stop here; he has a goal, a mission to complete.

He has friends to find and protect.

Chapter 11: the beasts flee the dangers they see

Chapter Text

Of all the things that could've happened today, why did it have to be a f*cking villain attack?

Hitoshi isn't the type to complain about things much (other than the regular sh*t like Quirk discrimination and bullying) but he's getting pretty sick and tired of these bastards boasting about killing students as if that's the only accomplishment they're ever going to have.

"We need to get the hell out of here," he mutters, surveying the villains lurking in the fake ocean of the Shipwreck Zone. He was goddamn lucky that Aizawa and Midoriya instilled in him the importance of vigilance, otherwise he would've gotten his leg torn off by a punk with a shark Quirk. He was also doubly lucky to be in this zone with Asui Tsuyu. Her calm disposition managed to ease some of Hitoshi's frayed nerves, helping him settle into Thinking Mode, a habit ingrained in him by Midoriya during their summer training sessions (seriously, that guy is always so efficient and prepared it's low-key terrifying.)

"Do you have a plan, Aiyama-chan?"

Truthfully, absolutely the f*ck not.

But danger never waits for anyone to get ready so Hitoshi doubles his efforts into coming up with an effective plan that could get the both of them out of this situation without getting beat up to hell and back—or dying. Yeah, that option was on the top of the list of things to avoid as much as possible. No matter what. Otherwise, Bakugou won't let him hear the end of it.

"I'm thinking," he says and he hopes she didn't hear the uncertainty in his voice.

Okay, Hitoshi, calm the f*ck down and think. What did Dad and Midoriya say about situations like this? Analyze everything, from the location to the people...

He must've been stuck in his head for too long when he startles at Asui's words, "I notice that the villains aren't attacking the boat, kero. It's like they're waiting for something."

Huh. Now that she mentioned it... Those bastards aren't doing much of anything other than staring at him and Asui menacingly. It might've been unnerving if it wasn't for the fact that Asui's observation sparked an idea in Hitoshi's head. Call it a hunch, but he had been told countless times that it never hurts to trust your instincts.

"Hey."

The frog girl turns to him with inquisitive eyes.

"You don't think they know about our Quirks, do you?"

The growing realization in her otherwise poker-faced expression says it all. These chumps don't know anythingabout them coming here and they're gonna use that against them. The biggest roadblock in that particular plan is the "how"because lord knows there's only so much two inexperienced hero wannabes can do in the middle of the water on a weaponless boat.

Wait a minute.

Hitoshi wordlessly and stealthily enters the boat's cabin, hope building up in his throat as he begs to be correct for once. When he sees the lever meant to get the ship up and running—like an actual ship—a solid idea emerges, bringing a sort of solace that Midoriya had given him that first day they met. And on the subject of his no-nonsense friend with a track record that could put the fear of god into any poor villain that crosses him, Hitoshi thinks he can afford to take after Midoriya and go a little reasonably batsh*t on these guys in the most unconventional way ever.

Like, make a whirlpool with the boat or something.

Oh yeah. It's all coming together.

~

As a strategist of her own merit, Momo knows that the best course of action right now is to utilize the Quirks of all her classmates who are with her in the mountain zone to escape the villains as unscathed as they can handle.

Jirou's Ear Jacks, Kaminari's Electricity, Tokoyami's Dark Shadow, and her Creation. How can she bring out the best in her classmates and herself in this situation? What should she do?

She blocks an incoming attack with her staff and kicks the villain away, falling back to where her classmates stand their ground. As outnumbered and inexperienced as they are, Momo can give themselves credit for doing remarkably given the circ*mstances. She commends Tokoyami and Dark Shadow the most for taking down at least half of the villains.

But she knows they can't keep these hired muscles at bay for long. They need to escape the facility and call for help, but due to some kind of disturbance in the radio frequency of the building, neither Kaminari nor Momo can call the school for backup. With all this, they were essentially on their own. However, as Momo learned throughout her first week of UA, that doesn't mean they're completely helpless.

(To gather courage, she thinks about her exercise partner, her new friend, an enigma of a classmate; she thinks of his calm demeanor, the self-assuredness in his plans and movements, the level-headedness he upholds even under great stress, and tells herself, I can be like that too.)

Momo takes stock of the situation. So far, only a couple dozen villains remain standing, ready to fight with Quirks blazing. Thanks to Dark Shadow, most of the heavy hitters were down, but at the cost of getting attacked by a wave of fire from one of the villains, making the poor Quirk retreat to Tokoyami (a weakness to light, she soon realizes. A rather on-the-nose drawback for a physical manifestation of shadows) like an injured animal. Jirou's use of her Quirk to create mini earthquakes had done the trick earlier but even with that, the villains weren't deterred, only fueled to hurt them faster and more brutally.

She had to think of a plan, and fast.

"Anyone got a plan?! 'Cause I'm down for any stupid idea at this point!" Kaminari says frantically shortly after tasing a lumber villain into a twitchy unconsciousness in a panic.

Seeing this, an idea—a crazy, risky, off-the-cuff idea—blooms in her head, and she can only silently thank one person for that.

~

The villains' numbers decrease as Katsuki and sh*tty Hair continue to fight back. It's not surprising since these chumps hardly put up a good fight. Not that Katsuki's planning on slacking off either due to that fact because he's not all for that kind of bullsh*t. Slacking off? Please, you can just catch Katsuki choking on acid mouthwash than half-assing the sh*t he does.

Just ask Deku. And speaking of Deku, he's probably out there already beating the sh*t out of his set of villains and winning every last fight without missing a step. Man, Katsuki wanted to join him, or at least watch the poor suckers who dared to challenge Deku pissing themselves, but c'est la vie or whatever the f*ck. Besides, sh*tty Hair would lose a tooth or some sh*t if Katsuki wasn't there to pick up the slack.

Somewhere in the middle of the brawl, Katsuki listens in on the background chatter of the remaining villains in the wrecked building because they're f*cking pansieswho'd rather gossip than square up to him. And he picks up the name-drop immediately, even with his crappy aided hearing.

"Ugh, these little sh*ts are tough but..."

"Not as tough as the Viridian Devil, yeah, I know."

Katsuki smirks at that, causing the literal bug-eyed punk in his clutches to sweat buckets.

Oh, so these guys have heard of Deku, huh? And by his bestowed moniker at that. Deku gave no sh*ts about what villains and other crooks called him, but Katsuki can still remember how annoyed his best friend looked when he first heard the nickname in person. f*cking hilarious, and one of the few times Katsuki saw him emote beyond a tick of his brow or a slight downturn of his lips. Katsuki should've taken a pic or something to commemorate it or some sh*t.

But that's beside the point.

If Deku's reputation can reach even the edges of Musutafu's criminal grapevine, then Katsuki is never gonna let that guy live it down for the rest of his life. He's practically a walking cautionary tale for the junior bad guys waiting to do their first felony, the boogeyman hiding in the shadows, sniffing for bastards about to start trouble.

Katsuki bets that once they graduate (and they willbecause he'll makesurethey do, f*ck whatever Eyebags said about bullsh*tting his way through their studies; not on Katsuki's watch) all of the villains and petty crooks will know not to mess with Deku, Quirkless status be damned.

"Let's be glad he ain't here, otherwise we'd be sippin' through straws on our deathbed."

Hm. As much as Katsuki loves busting kneecaps and headbutting noses, maybe throwing a psychological flash bomb at them will make his and sh*tty Hair's exit from this zone faster. Plus, it'll be so f*cking fun. Call it compensation for ruining their rescue training with their stupid agenda.

Katsuki knocks the lights out of the villain in his hold before he calls out, feeling particularly giddy as he ignores sh*tty Hair's confused stare, "Oi, oi! Heard you villain sh*ts talking about the Viridian Devil!"

He gets a few startled and fearful shrieks in return.

"What do you care, brat?! Do you know 'im or something?!" Oh, Katsuki can smell an opportunity when he sees it.

Grinning, he cracks his knuckles, already imagining the "Mildly Disappointed but Not Surprised" stare Deku is giving him for what he's about to do. "Yeah, I know him. And guess what, assholes, the Devil's already here! And he ain't f*cking happy!"

Just like that, chaos reigns, and half of the guys he and sh*tty Hair were fighting scramble to escape with their lives. Very few stay behind, probably not believing Katsuki's word, which is pretty fair and alright with him. In the end, they either get the crap beaten out of them or hightailed it out of fear of Katsuki's explosive fists, or the threat of the "Viridian Devil" himself showing up like a ghost coming out of the woodwork.

Hah. f*cking wimps.

("Uhhh, okay, not to look a gift-bomb in the hole, but what the heck was that, bro? And who's this Viridian Devil dude?"

"I'll tell you later, sh*tty Hair, let's get the f*ck out of here first!")

~

Everything is going to sh*t sideways at a rapid speed that Shouta, for one stupid split second, nearly loses his footing in his fight against the villains congregated in the plaza.No mistakes, Eraserhead, no mistakes.

One of the main heads of this operation, the man with the warp Quirk, managed to get to his students, which meant Thirteen was down for the count. That left the kids with no first line of defense other than their Quirks. Shouta may not be a betting man by nature, but he hoped his students were as safe and unharmed as they could be.

(His thoughts wander to Hitoshi, but he puts a cap on that; his son had trained under him, learned the ropes around physical and mental combat, and knew just what to do to utilize his Quirk to the best of its capabilities. Hitoshi will be fine, Shouta repeats in his head if just to give himself some form of comfort.)

He saw promise in all of them, observed their strengths and weaknesses thus far, and Shouta had almost no doubt they'll be okay. Almost. Because he remembers all so starkly that his students are still childrenwith semblances of hero-worship in most of his co-workers and the heroes who fight the bad guys every day. They shouldn't be facingthisso early but life has a very funny way of ruining a good plan.

Shouta dodges an incoming punch and sends a kick in return. His heart pounds heavily in his ears and heknowshe's getting exhausted, knowsthat he's about to eventually lose, knowsthat if he stops now—if he messes up and gets himself killed—the kids will truly be on their own to face these criminals.

But drying eyes be damned, Shouta is a stubborn bastard at heart. He swears to himself that he'll live long enough to see the brats under his care make it to graduation.

He doesn't know how long he had been fighting at this point. He beat down almost half of the lackeys but more just keep coming. And the head honcho isstillstanding there, scratching his neck beside that towering, unmoving creature with the exposed brain. It has yet to move, but Shouta won't take any chances. He needs to get to the bud of the problem, starting with the hand-covered villain. Bring down the boss; bring down the entire operation.

That was Eraserhead's first mistake, getting a burning elbow for his misstep. His weakness is compromised, that much is clear, and he can only guess that the villain figured it out while Shouta had been fighting. He should've acted sooner before his time limit was up.

"Don't push yourself, Eraserhead," the villain croons mockingly. Now Shoutadesperatelywants to knock the bastard's teeth in.

But he loses the chance to enact that plan. One moment, he's fighting against the man with what he now realizes is some kind of disintegration Quirk, and the next...

Pain. An all-encompassing, unbearable pain that leaves Shouta too immobile and dizzy to think properly. All he can think is how his head hurts so goddamn much, f*ck.

He can't even remember how he got brought down to the ground, his consciousness fading in and out from the sheer torture his whole body is going through. sh*t, it feels like he fell over flights of stairs after getting trampled by a hundred bulls. Speaking of which, just what the hell attacked him? Something powerful, he wryly guesses. Something imposing and terrible, and not what he wishes his students to face, ever; not when they're still so unprepared for the wickedness of the world outside of the classroom.

But they are facing something terrible. This invasion on school grounds warrants the students to take action to protect themselves, Shouta is no idiot to that reality. They're doing their damn best to stay alive (at least, he hopes and prays with his entire being that they are) so Shouta, as their teacher, should make sure the most major threat of them all is out of commission even if he gets prickled by shooting aches all over his limbs and skull.

He uses his Quirk again but this time, he has his sights on the hulking monstrosity standing over him with unnerving, lifeless eyes. Eraserhead's arms get f*cked to hell and back for the effort, broken and mangled by the creature called a Nomu. Oh, great, the hand guy's monologuing.Said something about bio-engineering and the creature being capable of going toe to toe with All Might.

Shouta wants to laugh at that particular statement (because honestly, how many times has that notion been said already by multiple overconfident crooks?) but he's too damn tired and in so much physical misery to deal with that. But he can't go take a nap just yet. He has students to protect, his kid being one of them, and if this massive beast doesn't kill him, his husband surely will if Shouta allows so much as a bump on their son's head. More than that, he promised Tsukauchi to look after hisproblem child, and he's not the type of guy to go back on his word.

But damn it, his vision is getting blotchy and blurry at the edges now, and the pull of unconsciousness threatens to do him in with each passing minute.

Don't close your eyes, Eraserhead, don't you f*cking dare!

He needs to stay awake to give the kids a chance to survive butsh*t where are reinforcements when you need them—

"Nearly beaten half to death yet you're still pushing yourself, huh, Eraserhead?"

The raspy voice of the hand-covered villain rattles Shouta into some form of awareness as much as it's slipping through his numb fingers.

"Oh well, didn't expect any less from aPro Hero."

Shouta doesn't have a single stupid clue how much time has passed since this entire mess began. All he knows amidst the cacophony and the tight grip the Nomu has on his head is the silver lining in the form of a status report from the mist villain.

"Shigaraki Tomura, my apologies, but one of the UA students got away. They are calling for reinforcements as we speak."

"What?!"

Shouta may not be a religious man or one who believes in things like fate and luck, but for once, he's deliriously glad that the universe is doing something right for a change. In the thick of the blood rushing to his head and the heavy rhythm of his heart, he picks up the angry rambles of the haggard villain—Shigaraki Tomura, a name he files away in his mind.

"Damn it. Kurogiri, if you weren't my escape route, I would've dusted you by now," he snarls and Shouta doesn't doubt for a second that Shigaraki will do good on that threat. "Whatever. That just means we're finally skipping to the boss level once All Might gets here."

Shouta has his eyes closed (sh*t, sh*t, sh*t, open your eyes, Eraserhead, hurry) yet he can practically feel Shigaraki forming an oily smile behind the severed hand attached to his face.

"Before that... Why don't we give the Symbol of Peace a little present?"

Shouta opens his eyes and further away from the plaza, he finds a shock of wild purple hair—

It's Hitoshi oh god oh f*ck no why is he there save him Shouta save him NOW

He activates his Quirk seconds before Shigaraki could use his (his filthy hands are touching Hitoshi and Asui's faces, get away from them, damn you!) and red eyes meet each other. "Hmph. Just as I thought; you're really cool, Eraserhead—"

In the same breath, shrill cries of fear echo around the facility, adding to the splitting headache Shouta's developing.

"It's him!"

"f*ck this, I'm outta here!"

"Oh god, how ishehere?!"

"Move, move, move!"

"It's the green devil!"

Hands splayed and twitching, Shigaraki leaves the kids behind—thank god—to gawk at the lackeys running through the plaza like ghosts were on their heels. "What the f*ck is going on?"

Shouta chances a look. Beyond the villains sprinting away in terror, he spots a familiar freckled face—fairly marked by bruises and visibly soaked to the bone—that betrays no emotion, eyes piercing and calculative as they stare Shigaraki Tomura down.

And not for the first time, Shouta doesn't know what Midoriya Izuku is thinking.

~

John stumbles through the Downpour Zone, breathing haggardly from the eventful trip down the commercial building he'd been warped to. The lackeys who were there nearly drove him to a corner, he can admit that much. He had been forced to use his gun until it ran out of rubber bullets and he had to throw it away, but John had settled back into a natural rhythm and handled the situation, superficial injuries notwithstanding. Maybe his encounter with Kreuger rattled him more than he initially assumed.

He nearly forgot that Kreuger and his Quirk had that effect on his chosen targets. It was ostensibly a psychological power meant to break people down through what the man can find in his victim's memories, suppressed or otherwise, just from direct eye contact. At least, that's what John gathered through experience and Tsukauchi's watered-down version of Kreuger's profile, though he can read between the lines. But their first encounter had been entirely different as far as the outcomes are concerned.

For one, Kreuger didn't use all of the ghosts nipping at John's feet. The only tangible caricature he fought at the time was the Bowery King, the last person John had been with before he died. He didn't particularly know why Kreuger chose to summon the monarch of intel to go against John (although he suspected the pigeons watching from above sparked a memory to life) but it left an impression. The aftermath of it had been just shy of bloody.

John dealt with the shadowed parody of the Bowery King and then Kreuger much faster after. John hadn't been as drained and out of sorts back then; slightly unsettled from seeing a very old face, sure, but he stood firmly on his feet as he left Kreuger's (evidently unsuccessful) detainment to the police.

Now, however, after having fought the physical forms of his past transgressions and Kreuger all at once, the world tilted just a little bit to the left and John wanted to get rid of the feeling immediately.

A passing thought to take a break tempts him to drop his weapons, to sit down for a minute and catch his breath while he lets the pseudo-rainfall cool his head. He hardly had a moment's peace to do that when he had been running from the world of assassins, and the area he's in seems deserted, for now. It's the perfect time to appreciate the relative silence while he still can.

But as a universal rule of thumb, John cannot get any breaks unless he takes care of the core problem first, i.e. the ones that started this whole mess. An onerous mission if he goes unprepared, but he can play it by ear. Still, he needs to find his classmates first. If he's lucky, he can stop Katsuki from mauling the villains too much and save any classmate who's with him from witnessing indiscriminate bloodshed. Another Herculean task that'd be potentially exasperating, though nothing out of the ordinary for John to handle.

So he soldiers on despite the heavy rain drenching him from head to toe, holding his staff tightly as he fends off any incoming charge from a daring villain or two and keeps his takedowns as swift as possible. They all run away from him for the most part, though, and John doesn't care to wonder why. At least this way, it saves him the trouble of dealing with any more of them on the way out.

He follows the villains out of the zone and feels the faint warmth of the main facility contrasting with the biting cold of his soaked PE uniform. He has a slight theory that once this is all over, he'll wind up with a cold sooner or later. Not an ideal consequence, but he can live with that. Probably.

"Oi! You there!"

John sighs quietly just as a lanky man with ashy white hair comes to the scene in his peripheral, trying to appear intimidating with his wide stance and aggressive display whilst holding a gun in his crooked hands. It looks real too, and the guy sure doesn't appear like he knows how to use it properly without getting his nose broken by the force of it going off.

The man reminds John of those rookie bodyguards back in the day; young, fresh off their training, and high on too much confidence because they served and protected a powerful boss who, at a toss of a coin, could hardly care if their hired muscle gets polished off before the night ends.

"You UA brat! If you think you can just walk away 'cuz you took out Kreuger, then you're dead wrong!"

John can afford to be at least courteous and give the man a chance to deal out what he's been dishing. If he doesn't, it'll be a problem that would follow him to any classmate he'd potentially come across. Better to handle this now than never. But John also wants to conserve what little energy he has accumulated for the bigger, more dangerous threats.

Is the guy still talking? Yeah, he's still talking. Monologuing, actually—which is decidedly worse. How many times will he have to endure people like Santino and Iosef like this? Kreuger was already enough.

"...so prepare yourself, brat, 'cuz this ain't gonna tickle—!"

The villain stops suddenly. The belligerent scowl he had throughout his speech falls off, making way for a wide-eyed look directed at John. The man, after a heartbeat, gulps. His face pales as he backpedals slowly. Left foot. Right foot. Left foot. Right foot. Like watching a predator from making any sudden, unwanted movements. The firearm in his grasp shakes in his weak grip.

"Y-y-y-you—!"

John remains silent, staring at the villain, almost daring him to attack; that's what the villains—the League of Villains—are here for, right? To hurt the golden eggs of UA, kill All Might, and start chaos? John knows how that game plays out. It only takes one person to pull the trigger, and everything crumbles into a disaster, depending on which side of the war you're on.

The villain doesn't continue. He lets out an undignified squawk ("Screw this, I'm out!") before fleeing like the rest, dropping his gun in the process. Somehow, it doesn't go off from the fall. Either the safety is on, or the thing never had bullets in the first place. Hm. He should probably check, just to be certain, even if there's a looming threat of an explosive mechanism jammed in there.

And sure enough, he finds four bullets in the cylinder. Real copper bullets, loaded and ready to dig through an enemy's head.

(When was the last time he held a real gun?)

John doesn't think about it. He stows away it in an extra holster—a last resort.

It remains to be seen if All Might (Yagi Toshinori)has ever taken a life in his career, but John won't let that change any time soon if he could help it. Because, unlike John, All Might is loved by everyone. He's above all else a symbol, and the golden podium he stands on would grow corroded and foul if blood ever spills on it.

Santino or Viggo will call him a self-righteous bastard, and John wouldn't even bother arguing. He knows how guys like him and All Might operate in a world like this. All Might works in the light while John stays in the shadows, even if Yagi has shadows of his own behind sunken eyes. This circ*mstance requires the methods of the shadows for all that John persists in finding his place in the light as Izuku.

Now that he is alone with his thoughts, he now has the time to finally plan something decent. It hardly matters, though, when seconds after, a strange sound catches his attention immediately.

Up ahead in the central plaza, he spots a dark figure, massive even from his place by the Downpour Zone. Another one, much smaller and body covered with hands (the one leading this invasion, John affirms), stands nearby, hunched over by a body of water, while anotherstands out of the way—the one with the warping Quirk.

John only makes it a couple of steps forward to get a better assessment of the situation (even if it's an idiotic move in the context of this world) when he sees everything.

On the cracked surface of the ground lies Aizawa, bleeding, and with limbs visibly broken.

The gigantic figure, an amalgamation of a person and a bird with an exposed brain, stands over the Pro Hero, holding his head the way Perseus held Medusa's.

There, in the water, John can see a sliver of purple and the spindly villain's hand over Hitoshi's face.

And something within John (Izuku Baba Yaga Jardani) burns.

~

His dad is hurt, but he still fights.

Hitoshi both loves and hates that about the man, always willing to play the whole "self-sacrifice" shtick despite complaining about it when his past students and other heroes do it. A damn hypocrite with a scarred heart of gold. Hitoshi can already hear his dad's excuse/logical reasoning that if he could still move despite having too many injuries, then he will f*cking run a marathon and beat the sh*t out of any villain daring to harm more innocent people.

Hitoshi has no idea why Pops hasn't grown white hair yet from Dad's nonsense, but it's probably that whole true love-soulmate bullsh*t. Like understands like. And Hitoshi isn't stupid to assume that Pops wouldn't act like Dad either because they're both heroes, and it's in their blood and job description to fight the bad guys and save people, even at the expense of their bodies.

And Aizawa's body is wrecked to sh*t. Hitoshi saw it—heard it—happen. Nothing, not even his past experiences pre-adoption, could rival how it caused his heart to drop so low in his gut and shatter upon impact.

The blood contrasts so starkly against the floor, striking red against sandy orange. It makes him sick just seeing it coming from his strong invinciblefather, his father who valued rationality and common sense more than grandiose displays of heroism for the flashing lights and cameras. His Quirk, though not as flashy as All Might's or Endeavor's, is a powerhouse all on its own, its weaknesses notwithstanding.

So regardless of the damage its user took, Erasure pulls through at the last minute, right as the creepy hand f*cker enveloped both his and Asui's faces with his hands. They feel so cold and callused, and Hitoshi can practically catch the smell of death coming from them.

Hitoshi remembers what this villain's Quirk can do. He saw the bastard nearly dissolve his dad's elbow with just a touch, breaking apart the fabric and skin, until muscle fibers are shown. He can only imagine what'll happen if the Quirk ever got to completely affect a person.

Distantly, he thinks about that one pre-Quirk-era film where the good guys lost, and half the world turned to dust as a consequence, leaving nothing behind but particles, memories, and grieving loved ones. And the mental picture of him and Asui falling apart the same way leaves his throat clogged and jaw tightening from the tension of what could've been.

They were so close to... They could've...Holy f*ck.

Suddenly, screams erupt throughout the plaza, and it snaps Hitoshi back to reality. The villain—Shigaraki was his name—removes his crusty-ass hands from his and Asui's faces, and Hitoshi can breatheagain. Ignoring the mistiness in his eyes, Hitoshi discovers a bunch of the villains converged in the plaza tripping on their feet to escape something. Or someone.

"What the f*ck is going on?"

Hitoshi can only think of one other person who can put the fear of God into villains effortlessly, and he's standing there amongst the fleeing crowd, sopping wet, his weapon in hand, and his face betraying no emotion or thought.

Like an echo of their first meeting, Midoriya brings Hitoshi a kind of hope that tells him that everything will be okay. His dad will be okay. Asui will be okay. Hell, the whole class will be okay. Because judging from the look his friend is giving Shigaraki, Hitoshi hardly has any doubts.

You guys are so screwed now.

~

Anger was an emotion John had come to know quite intimately.

It was one of the many things fueling his need for vengeance, keeping him afloat when the grief of losing everything all over again threatened to break his focus. It sharpened his instincts, steadied his aim, and set him on a straight and narrow path to his goal. Anger was as much ammunition as it was a bomb. In the end, one way or another, it left him dead.

Then he found that anger in Katsuki, driven by passion and the need to prove himself, to guard his vulnerabilities. Well, John could barely call the default setting of his friend "angry"as it is rough around the edges, just him trying to come off as strong and tough to destroy the notion that he was anything less. And it's all because of a childhood filled with people who unknowingly gave him reasons to. At least, that's how John understands it now.

He also understands that his anger is much more different from Katsuki's. Unlike his friend's explosive sparks, it feels like molten lava in his blood. It boils under the surface, begging for vindication, for action, but John had been trained rigorously since childhood to know how to keep it in check (for the most part. That fell apart the day he lost Daisy, his chances for a peaceful life, and nothing else mattered to him).

He won't allow emotions to drive him off-course (anymore).

John narrows his eyes at the gangly villain in front of him, and the massive creature holding Aizawa's head. He spares the warp villain a glance before deciding his next move, ignoring the other villains around him.

Speed, brute force, and quick reflexes will be pivotal. He doesn't completely know what the ink-colored creature can do other than super strength, supposedly. The warp villain is another story altogether. He doesn't know much of anything right now aside from the obvious, but he can't afford to underestimate anybody or it will be his downfall. Therefore, he'll need to improvise sooner or later. He can do that.

"Who the hell are you?" The hand-covered villain demands. "An NPC with a death wish?"

John watches, analyzing everything down to the tone of voice and the stance of the body. Any weakness to use against him. The man likely has a powerful Quirk (or at least one that warrants fear and begrudging obedience from the hired crooks all around) for him to engineer this entire attack and lead the army of enlisted criminals. He'll find a way to get rid of the warp villain as soon as he takes down the boss of this operation.

"What, not gonna start your dialogue?"

He only has his staff and the procured gun on him. It weighs heavy, filled with real bullets instead of rubber pellets or tiny paintballs. It'd be easy to train the thing on the villain, pull the trigger, and that'd be the end of it. It'd be so easy to get rid of the root of the problem just like that.

But no, that's not how UA functions, is it? That's not how Izuku functions, as far as Mom, Katsuki, Hitoshi, and Yagi know. He only does enough damage to immobilize temporarily rather than permanently. He vowed to never let that instinct overpower him, let it become him ever again.

But this man nearly killed Hitoshi.

So, he'll compromise.

"Tch. Not saying anything, huh? Boring. Nothing but a glitch in the system." The villain scratches his neck. "Whatever. I think you'll be a better surprise gift for All Might."

His head tilts, and John imagines a cat eyeing its prey. "Nomu. Grab him."

In a blink of an eye, the inky creature is in front of John, looming and imposing like a dark mountain. He can hear distant yells but he barely acknowledges them as a large hand envelops his head in the same way it did with Eraserhead. John dangles in the air before he knows it, like those raggedy dolls his past adoptive sisters used to have as rare gifts from the Director.

To his credit, John didn't panic. He's fairly startled, sure, but the knowledge that this creature—Nomu, as it's seemingly called—can move at a speed that rivals All Might is invaluable. Perhaps it's made to go against All Might in terms of power. Maybe that's why this League of Villains is so confident; they have a weapon to use against a demigod of a man. The arrow that struck Achilles's heel.

John feels the hand tighten ever so slightly, adding a sliver of pressure.

"Y'know, you could've done me a solid and screamed. That would've been more fun," the hand villain says, mocking and venomous, and keeping his distance. "But since you're a boring little NPC, I guess I'll just let my Nomu squeeze your head until you pop like a grape. Maybe that'll get you to—"

Through the gaps between the thick fingers, John zeroes in on the Nomu's eye, exposed, empty, vulnerable.

(By then, it is too late to resist. Nothing seems to fill his head anymore butfight fight fight defend engage block ki—)

So hestabs it with his staff. Hard.The resulting screech is worth the near-burst of his eardrums, and the brewing threat of his head getting crushed.

As soon as the Nomu lets go of him out of pain (could it feel pain? Anything at all?) and shock, John dangles from the staff embedded in the eye, and instantly swings himself over its back. He twists the weapon until the half he's holding detaches, leaving its twin in the organ.

The Nomu struggles and writhes, but John wastes no second and plunges the rod into its exposed brain, pushing deeper and deeper, blood spewing out in short bursts—it struggles struggles struggles it's instinctual it's survival it's fighting against consequences—until...

The Nomu falls. Motionless. Lifeless.Dead.

(Does it count if the Nomu is hardly human at all?)

(You broke your vow, your promise, your oath.)

(Youmonster.)

John ignores the red staining his hands and his uniform, the shrieks from the straggling henchmen, and the tingling sensation of a familiar performance sinking its teeth into his bones. It doesn't matter. He argues in his head that it's all in self-defense. He resigns to never think about it until he must. When the danger has passed, and his job is done. When all of this is over. (But the war never will be over, will it?)

The silence from the leader is telling, charged with suspense, and it breaks like an erupting volcano.

"You- What did you do to my Nomu?!"

John steps off the creature. He leaves his two staves in their respective places on the Nomu, deeming them out of commission since they are practically stuck and that they've had their use (and it's not because he didn't want to touch them anymore. This is not like the Entrance Exam wherein he needed his tools anyway until they were broken. This one felt...permanent). He'll request a new staff from the Support department; surely it wouldn't be an issue.

The villain screeches with vitriol, scratching his neck more intensely than before. "Hey! Answer me, you sh*tty NPC! What did you f*cking do?! How did you—"

"Shigaraki Tomura, please calm—"

"Shut up, Kurogiri, or I'll f*cking dust you!"

Shigaraki Tomura. Kurogiri. John will remember that.

The noise around the USJ grows louder. Despite this, he remains fixed on Shigaraki, watching, and waiting. He's down one less weapon to use but that's the least of his worries. He needs to get that man farther away from Hitoshi and Asui, who John later notices. He can't do that though with Kurogiri acting as a probable wrench in that plan. Who knows where the mist man will send John next?

"Tch. Whatever. Don't get in the way, Kurogiri. This kid is dead meat,"Shigaraki hisses, and he jogs only a couple of steps, revving up to sprint at him before one of his lackeys comes barreling into him by accident, also likely attempting to fight John as well.

And John watches in muted shock as Shigaraki, in response, turns his subordinate into ash.

(he watched as the foundations of his love and sacrifices burned to the ground, nothing but memories and mementos turned to—)

The man never let out a sound, face frozen in horror as his entire body cracks and falls like dust in the wind. Shigaraki sneers. "Stupid f*cking imbecile of a party member. Useless." And he is back to running at John, uncaring of what he did, hands spread out and in front of his body like he's a ghost ready to snatch up its latest victim.

John does not end up that way. (He never will.)

He darts forward to meet Shigaraki. Decidedly much faster than him, John ducks under a swipe, following it with a hard punch to the gut. He gets out of the way in time, moving behind and striking the man's back with his foot, creating a distance between the villain, Eraserhead, and his classmates. John pointedly stands in front of the latter three, like a human shield against decay.

Shigaraki doesn't give up at that instant. He snarls underneath the hand, clutching his stomach as he steadies himself. "You're gonna pay for that, you little sh*t." It's all muscle memory from a different body by now; John gets into a stance, watches for any minuscule weakness, and keeps his mind clear.

He's careful not to get in Shigaraki's grasp lest he wants to end up an anthill, going for blind spots in his opponent, and wearing the man ragged with his agility. It only serves to piss the guy off more and more, though.

"Why," — attack, dodge — "won't," — evade, kick — "you," — punch in the side, steer clear of the hands — "just staystill?!"

Another hit to Shigaraki's unguarded back and John's holster for his staff gets dusted in retaliation, but he brushes it off quickly. Shigaraki grows angrier and more desperate, John can see it now with every frenzied movement, every attempt to grab John only to fail at the last second. If this were any regular fight, perhaps John might have let Shigaraki run himself to the ground from sheer exhaustion, but as it stands, Shigaraki doesn't look like the type to let fatigue get in the way of his goal.

John is proven right when the villain comes running at him again with a shrill cry, and he goes for a kick straight to the solar plexus, knocking the lanky man to the ground.

In his peripheral, he finds the beginning of a wall of dark mist, stretching farther and farther.

"Shigara—"

Then, an explosion reverberates in the air, and John finds Katsuki and Kirishima pinning Kurogiri to the ground by the metal collar, rendering the warper immobile, and by the wild smirk on his friend's face, John can only assume that Katsuki is threatening bodily harm to the villain if he ever so much as twitch. Kirishima, on the other hand, just looks both intimidated and adrenalized at the same time.

"This is for separating us, villain—!"

"No time for those damn hero monologues, Shark Teeth. Oi, Deku! I got the mist f*cker occupied, go take that crusty bitch out!"

John only spares Katsuki a glance before focusing back on Shigaraki, who is currently heaving and exuding absolute rage on the floor. John can work with that. Mold it to his advantage. Maybe by then, the Pro Heroes would arrive right on time. "So... You think you can just beat me, just like that, huh? Well, aren't you confident? I despise bastards like you."

Shigaraki turns his head at the downed Nomu, the apprehended Kurogiri, and the fleeing henchmen around the plaza before shooting a hard glare at John through the severed hand's fingers. John can practically seethe color red vividly in those eyes as he listens to Shigaraki and his grievances, his number one goal of getting rid of All Might, and tearing hero society apart for all of their transgressions. John hardly has much to contribute. He doesn't think he deserves to.

"You're not gonna say sh*t at all, aren't you?"

No. John doesn't think he will.

"Tch. Alright, NPC... No, this level's mini-boss," the gaunt man rasps with a burning hatred, as he gets back up again, flexing his hands with an intent to maim, mutilate, kill, kill, KILL—(John watches as the villain turns his subordinate into ash—)

"I hope you're ready to die."

John says nothing.

("What happens when you die?"

"Nothing. There is nothing at all, malysh.")

His eyes lock dead onto the hand-covered man before him. He reaches for his second weapon, heavy as the sins he carries with him, and needs nothing else.

Hitoshi and Asui are behind him, afraid for their lives despite the calmness they want to display so desperately. Aizawa lies farther away in a crater of the Nomu's making, bleeding, broken, and unconscious. The monstrous beast lays dead to the universe at large with pieces of John's staff embedded in its exposed brain and eye. Katsuki and Kirishima have the warp villain trapped, effectively keeping themselves busy. Around him, far from where he was, battles occur, where goodhearted children fight angry, remorseless adults for survival.

Here, a decision is made, permanent as the blood on his marker.

(Protect them. Save them. Don't let death take them too, Jardani-John-Baba Yaga-Izuku)

Like a starving predator with nothing left to lose, Shigaraki pounces with his claws out, anger and adrenaline fueling him 'til the end.

"I'm gonna f*cking kill you!"

And John Wick raises his gun.

~

"Jonathan, listen to me."

"A man can stay here a long time and never eat the same meal twice."

"Jonathan, just walk away."

"Yeah, Jonathan. Walk aw—"

~

"What did you do?"

"Finished it."

~

"Fear not, for I am here!"

Chapter 12: fortune favors the bold

Chapter Text

Katsuki tries not to scowl so much at the EMT checking him for injuries, which is stupid because he never lets himself get smacked around by scumbag villains. He knows it's just standard procedure and all that sh*t, but f*ck,can't they hurry it up?

Not that he's being an ungrateful asshole about it, but Katsuki doesn't want to waste time sitting around in an ambulance when he could be on his feet searching for his best friend and that stupid eggplant insomniac. And sh*tty Hair too, probably. The guy looked ready to hurl after the whole fiasco with the USJ attack. Or maybe that was after he saw Deku beat the sh*t out of that handjob villain.

Yeah, that's probably it.

But that's also pretty f*cking stupid because Deku just saved their asses back there. Not that the policeand the other Pro Heroes called to the scene see it that way, given the very few pointedly narrow stares aimed at his friend.

Ugh. It's always the f*cking ruleswith them instead of what's most important, like kids trying to make sure they don't end up on an obituary. Because that's virtually what happened in the USJ; Katsuki and his classmates fought to stay alive since the adults were out of reach, and the teachers with them were out of the ring.

And it's only their first year. Though, Katsuki isn't that much of a dumbass to believe that minor detail would spare them any trouble in the future.

Being a hero is a harsh business, with disasters and difficult situations attached; he knew that well enough from All Might. What happened today was another reason for Katsuki to improve the hell out of himself and his Quirk. He got lucky when he got the drop on that Warp Quirk villain. Even luckier when the misty f*cker ignored Katsuki to escape with his tail between his legs. He might not be the next time they cross paths, but he'll make sureof it.

If he's going to be the next Number One Hero, the one to surpass All Might, then experience is pretty f*cking vital, no matter where or when it comes from.

Deku is the walking proof of that. Speaking of which...

Katsuki finally spots him beyond the crowd of EMTs, policemen, Pro Heroes, and classmates. Talking with that detective guy in the trenchcoat, he's unflappable and poker-faced as usual. Katsuki doesn't find the (actual, life-ending) gun in Deku's hand. It's probably confiscated or something for evidence. Against what or who, Katsuki's not gonna bother thinking about it.

For their sakes, those cops better not accuse Deku of anything else other than self-defense of others and himself because Katsuki will have a sh*t ton of things to say about that.(And okay, sure, fine; he's still pretty damn bitter about the Sludge Villain Incident, what of it?)

But he refrains from stomping towards his otherwise calm friend, having the sense not to interrupt anything.Yet.

Katsuki will not be held responsible for what will happen next should the "questioning" ever come down to downright accusations and sh*t, with that bullsh*t prejudice on top of that.

If Deku can stop Katsuki from being a piece of sh*t to others, then Katsuki can stop others from being bigger pieces of sh*t to Deku because his dumbass of a best friend just wouldn't do it for himself even if it's to save his trouble magnet ass.

"Bakugou."

Eyebags McGee looks deader on his feet than usual, which says a lot about today's bullsh*t. He's got a shock blanket over his shoulders, and his skin is paler than a vampire's. His hair also looks damp, as if he'd been running under a shower for a while. But at least he's not bleeding out of an orifice or something. He just looks f*cking tired.

"Hn." Katsuki wordlessly scooches over, and Eyebags lets himself drop beside him in the ambulance.

It's quiet between them, barring the background noise of police, heroes, teachers, and students around them. It's hardly ever quiet when it's Katsuki and Eyebags, though. Usually, they snark, banter, argue, and rile each other up merely to be petty assholes, with Deku serving as the Tired and Annoyed mediator. That was their thing. But Katsuki knows there wasn't any real nastiness behind it. He's just a grumpy asshole, and Eggplant Hair is a cheeky bitch who enjoys messing with him.

That's all fine and good. Except if theydiddo the same sh*tty song and dance right here, right now, it'd probably piss Katsuki the f*ck off and put Eyebags in an even worse mood, and they wouldn't be bantering; no, they'd dive straight into an Argument with a capital-f*cking-A, a screaming match to trump all. Trauma response, or whatever the f*ck.

They don't need that.

"So," Eyebags starts because he can't go a day without filling the space with some kind of sound. "Is Mido finished yet?"

No, he isn't. Deku's still talking with the detective, and- okay, well sh*t, f*ckingSnipeis there now, apparently. Whatever they're discussing probably has something to do with what happened moments ago. With the villains. With that hand bastard, Shigaraki.

Katsuki, for a brief moment, wonders what Deku must've been thinking the whole time. What went through his head as he raised that gun? How he even got a real gun to the USJ is beyond Katsuki, but he thinks some lowlife crook dropped it, and Deku picked it up and decided it to be his last resort.

Upon seeing his best friend point the thing at Shigaraki without hesitation, Katsuki hadn't been worriedper se. Sure, he was shocked that he even had a real gun in the first place. But Katsuki had a firm belief in Deku.

For all that he's ruthlessly efficient in dealing with bastards picking a fight with innocents, Deku never went further. He didn't take a step over that line in the dirt. There were countless chances for him to do the opposite.

The memory of the Sludge Villain Incident stayed with Katsuki like the aftermath of a nasty infection on his skin; Deku used a f*cking pencil, and yet he didn't use the sharp end to stab the slimy f*cker in the eye. He could've blinded him, potentially hurt the villain beyond measure, or used a f*cking cutter to finish the job.

But he didn't because Deku was just a guy with a big, bleeding heart who knewhis limits, whoneverwent back on his morals, who took the highest ground possible despite all the sh*t he went through.

(All the sh*tKatsukigave him over his Quirklessness. How Deku tolerated him, let alone allowed him to be his friend until now, is a mystery. But Katsuki's not about to complain.)

So it stands to reason that Deku didn't do what he did out of sheer hatred in his heart or whatever the hell the other heroes are probably guessing.

He was trying to protect himself and everyone in the class. That's it. The detective hasto see that and not for what it looked like in the stupid eyes of the law. Hell, Katsuki would volunteer as a witness or some sh*t and prove Deku's innocence if that's what it took.

He juts his chin to where their friend is, and Eyebags follows, only to grumble like an exhausted and cranky old man. His slouch makes it even more convincing too. "They better not be pinning all of the blame on him."

Katsuki grunts in agreement. He knows how adults—especially Pro Heroes—like to believe they're rightall the goddamn time. That teenagers are still babies who can't think for themselves. Those types have a special place on Katsuki's sh*t list. And there's an even special-er place on it for dickhe*ds willing to punish someone for protecting themselves against batsh*t villains with a hand fetish.

"Do you think he'll get out of this without a problem?"

"The damn police department's practically got a running betting pool on what kind of wacky sh*t Deku's gonna use to beat up crooks next," Katsuki decides to settle on after a minute to ponder.

While he's not about to jump on the Bright Side wagon like an idiot, he knows Deku's made a name for himself with the MPD and some type of rapport with the detective from all those visits to the precinct. That should count for something, at least. "I think he'll get off as scot-free as he could f*cking get."

And Katsuki's confident about that, no f*cking questions asked. Deku's never been the murderous type between all three of them, after all.

~

Bang!

The sound pierced the air. It's in his ears now, leaving white noise behind.

It should've sounded familiar to him by now. It should've felt familiar. It had been a constant in his job, a consequence of his choices.

Instead, it sounded and felt like the beginning of his demise. He saw a red spill in the air, an explosion not unlike fireworks. It came from a body, he knew. He didn't feel anything.

He justmoved.

~

Today sucked.

It stilldoes; don't get Hitoshi wrong, he'd like to stay at home for at least a month or two before getting back out there and getting that heroic education or whatever, but—

Well. At least he and his class are still alive and breathing. It's a miracle they managed at all.

(calloused hands, the stench of death, dad on the floor bleeding broken—)

Hitoshi breathes sharply through his nose, intent on forgetting the more traumatizing parts of today's events in favor of keeping an eye out for any cop or Pro Hero about to stroll up to Midoriya and give him—heaven forbid—a lecture about morality, and how it's not right for a fifteen-year-old hero studentto use a gun against a bloodthirsty villain who wanted to kill them.

(Distantly, he remembers the echoes of accusation and vandalized desks; distrustful adults and cruel children; a bad Quirk, and, by extension, a bad kid who just wanted to help.)

Ugh. Thinking about a hundred different scenarios of that flavor makes Hitoshi's skin itch. But he wants to take solace in Bakugou's words, to believe that Midoriya won't get in too much trouble with the law.

As far as Hitoshi's concerned, Midoriya isn't in the wrong. He practically bought enough time for All Might and the other teachers to bust in and take control of the situation, even if the situation in question had already been handled pretty damn quickly. By Midoriya.

Jeez, that guy seriously never ceases to amaze and confuse Hitoshi at the same time.

He's quiet, yet his actions speak louder than any voice Quirk in existence. He's unassuming, yet he does unexpected things on the fly, usually for good reasons (even if those reasons nearly give both Hitoshi and Bakugou double heart attacks). He's blunt, yet his words don't provoke harm. Midoriya is a puzzle, yet Hitoshi can read him well enough, and he knows that underneath all that aloofness, Midoriya is as kind as they come.

Although- sure, okay,it was a little alarming to see his best friend force his bo staff into that Nomu's brain without a second thought, fluid and instantaneous.

It was also slightly more terrifying when he brought out an actual firearm from who knows where and aimed it at Shigaraki, and...

(Midoriya didn't hesitate, did he? He never hesitates to protect a life. That's what Hitoshi knows with his heart of hearts. But does it apply to taking lives too?)

And at least it didn't endtoobadly. No guts were spilled on the floor, at least.

The teachers made it in the nick of time. None of his classmates had been grievously injured, his dad still breathed, and the biggest threat in the facility was gone. (Don't jinx it.)

That's all that matters in the end.

Most of the villains in the USJ have been arrested. The Nomu thing even got bagged and will get transported hopefully to some research facility in the woods or whatever. Hitoshi and his classmates made it out unscathed (if potentially traumatized by the whole sh*tshow. Man, he should go and find Asui and check up on her. You know- because of the shared near-death experience and all that), his dad and Thirteen will be alright, and everything will be okay.

That's just wishful thinking, though. This is only the beginning; Hitoshi isn't gullible. The life of a hero will never be easy, nor will things ever remain okay in the long term.

But then, when he thinks about Midoriya and how cool and calculated he was, how there was self-assuredness in his movements, how he stepped in between Shigaraki and Hitoshi and Asui without a second thought, and how he never once quivered at the hands of that giant creature gripping his face, Hitoshi feels an ember of resolve settle in the space of his chest where his cowardice would be.

Hitoshi felt helpless before, unable to move a muscle when it mattered, but he'll use this chance to change that.

He won't let himself fall behind. He won't stand frozen and watch his dad get beaten to near death again, and he sure as hell won't let Midoriya handle the universe's bad guys all by himself, regardless of his wide-reaching title as Musutafu's ass-kicking boogeyman.

Hitoshi will be a dependable hero, no matter what it takes.

And it starts by acting as a human sentinel with Bakugou despite the growing chill in Hitoshi's bones, eyeing the many police officers and heroes in the vicinity should they try anything funny. Like, say, condemn Midoriya to a lifetime in juvie for illegally possessing a gun. The chances of that happening are low, but never zero.

"You better not get any of your f*cking snot on me when you sneeze up a storm or some sh*t."

Ah, Bakugou. Gotta love him.

"If I do get sick, I'm taking you down with me. Have fun dealing with phlegm."

Bakugou just scoffs lightly.

~

Bang!

It took three seconds to press the trigger.

Two for his target to realize.

And one for him to try again.

The weight in his hand couldn't have been heavier than it was now.

~

Tsukauchi Naomasa is currently a tired man who happens to be a detective.

A detective who also happens to know one trouble magnet of a teenager with the instincts of an alert predator on a hunt and sometimes the self-preservation skills of a wet paper bag, but that's neither here nor there.

At least that same teenager has the combative skills of a semi-accurate action movie protagonist trained to do the moves to protect himself.

(The ongoing betting pool affectionately labeled "Local Broccoli Child's Unconventional Weapon of the Day" in the precinct speaks for itself.)

Still, knowing that fact doesn't deter Naomasa from making sure his Problem Child (yes, with the capital letters, and yes, he inevitably picked up Eraserhead's curse of having problem children through extensive exposure probably) isn't hiding any injuries because he has a distinct feeling Midoriya wouldn't want to make a huge deal out of it. He's a dumb kid that way, and it's maybe one of the most normal things about him.

And doesn'tthatsay a lot?

Midoriya from the get-go is hardly a "normal" kid. Naomasa practically watched him grow up before his eyes from every call he gets to pick up back-alley crooks and, occasionally (and even unintentionally, on Midoriya's part) wanted suspects.

Naomasa had his trepidations about the boy back then; how was he so proficient in fighting since eleven years old? How was he able to get out of every scuffle relatively okay? Hell, how did he manage to become the proverbial monster in the closet for most of the criminal network in Musutafu, enough to earn himself a moniker?

He initially guessed it had been an unstable home life, terrible outside influences, and a possible hidden emitter Quirk, but over time, such speculations were put to rest (and no, he did not inspect medical records to double-check if the kid was Quirkless, Sansa).

He has Toshinori to thank for that since the hero essentially gushed over the fact that he was training Midoriya and his friend, Bakugou, in preparation for the Entrance Exams. If Toshinori never once had suspicions about the boy's home life and general demeanor, then that should count for something.

In the end, Naomasa merely ascribed such feats as just Midoriya being Midoriya, an enigma of a child with skills and a composed nature to boot, and with a track recordfor all of his heroic deeds ("If I could stop someone from hurting others, I'd do it.").

He's also a hero student who shot a villain with a real gun and was responsible for incapacitating the bulky creature called a Nomu with a rod to the brain. Apparently.

Naomasa's already feeling the headache of tackling all the paperwork and reports until the letters become squiggly lines, and it hasn't even been fifteen minutes since he first got the alert from Principal Nedzu.

Even worse, he has yet to have his afternoon coffee. But the USJ incident is currently far more critical than his ingrained need to satisfy his caffeine addiction and deserves his attention.

He has already set up for the students to get checked over by the EMTs, and for Eraserhead and Thirteen to get transported to the hospital ASAP, so it didn't take too long to pull Midoriya aside to get his viewpoint on the entire event before any legal troubles and moral conflicts arise.

(The short, soft-pedaled version, if anything because getting the complete picture from the kid is like playing a game of tug-of-war with a tiger.)

Naomasa's picked up a few dubious stares from the other policemen and some Pro Heroes on the scene already. (Not to mention the hawkeyed vigilance Bakugou has adopted since the ambulances arrived. He can already feel the prickling stare from the explosive boy a couple of ways away.)

He'd rather not have Midoriya be put under a microscope by the higher-ups if they can avoid it, and Naomasawants to avoid itat all costs.

"And you're sure you aren't injured at all, kid? No internal bleeding I or the EMTs should be aware of?"

Naomasa knows he's gradually grating on Midoriya's nerves for the same inquiries asked.

The boy, as usual, doesn't show it but Naomasa is a perceptive guy, and an annoyed Midoriya is decidedly harder to talk to. An annoyed Midoriya typically comes with the cold shoulder and a clipped edge to his voice, and no one other than Naomasa (and Bakugou, perhaps) can tell the difference between that and his usual austere attitude.

But this particular level of annoyance is around the slightly furrowed brows and stiff shoulders level, so Naomasa's in the clear for now so long as he doesn't push it too much.

"Yeah."

Naomasa's Quirk barely tingles with the signal oftruth.Man, the kid's gotten good at keeping himself levelheaded enough to throw Naomasa off.

"Yeah as in no injuries or yeah as in you have internal bleeding that should get looked over?"

"No internal bleeding. I'm fine."

The facial bruises and the general aura of teenage angst say otherwise but sure. Okay. Naomasa knows he's met his "check Midoriya for physical and/or mental trauma" quota for today, so he'll let this slide for now because he has a job to do, and he's sure the kid knows that. (Even if Naomasa still wants to make sure the teen is actually okay and not suffering in silence; lord knows Naomasa's already done with that with his big-hearted idiot of a friend.)

"Alright, well," Naomasa starts, preparing his notepad and sanity. "You know the drill, kid."

And Midoriya proceeds to give an account of what happened in less than fifty words. Always so efficient.

We were about to start our simulation training. The lights and radio signals got jammed. Villains swarmed the place. We got separated by a Warp Quirk, we fought, and reunited. One of us left to get the teachers.

I handled the threat.

It's expectedly short and sweet and tells Naomasa pretty much everything he needs to know.

Except, Naomasa also knows this won't be enough to appease and outdistance the HPSC should they pick up on this story, and he knowsthey will because this incident will be put on blast all over every news outlet in Musutafu like a string of dynamite.

Midoriya Izuku, age fifteen, and Quirkless went up against two out of the three most dangerous persons in the USJ attack and came out of it as the winner.

What are the odds that the board of directors from the Commission and U.A. would want plenty of eyes on the boy, especially since he's a hero student? Pretty high if they play their cards exponentially wrong.

Beyond that, Midoriya would surely get scrutinized to the bone by the public for his actions, as justified as they were when observed from a certain angle. Naomasa isn't blind to the fact that the life of a Quirkless person isn't all sunshine and rainbows.

He can already guess what the people will say in outrage and blatant bigotry once a snoopy journalist or two gets a whiff of that specific information, privacy be damned.

Hero student or not, Midoriya would get put under fire should it go out that he used a gun, unlicensed and untrained. Let alone the fact that it was against a villain. The laws were harsh and stupid like that.

Not to mention the whole "bar stuck in the brain of the Nomu" thing... Okay, maybe there's something Naomasa and a select few in his team can try to spin on that end, but will it be enough to drive away the prying eyes from Midoriya? It's dicey at best, and as a detective, Naomasa never considers gambling a great strategy when it truly matters.

So Naomasa will need to work extra hard to prevent every worst-case scenario from happening; which means more paperwork and utilizing his connections until sleep is but a faraway concept to him. Good plan.

"I'll get in trouble for what I did," Midoriya says, breaking Naomasa from his thinking/planning streak.

The kid doesn't say it as a question. He's far too observant and sharp for that. Sometimes, Naomasa wishes for Midoriya to act his age for once and let the adults in his life do the worrying for him.

Sighing, Naomasa nods. "I'm afraid so. While we could frame what you did to the Nomu as a genuine act of self-defense since it grabbed you with the intent to harm, it's a whole other landmine with you using a gun against someone else, even if it was a villain, nevermind the fact that your first support weapon was a school-issued firearm with non-lethal rounds. Legal hoops and brick walls, and all that. I have a few ideas on how to resolve the issue but—"

"I can help 'im get a license."

Like a guardian angel clad in a cowboy getup, Snipe steps in with the easiest and, quite frankly, most sensible solution ever, a low-hanging fruit. to

"You will?" Naomasa raises a brow, already drafting a mental note about this turn of events.

"Yep," Snipe doesn't hesitate, nodding. "I'm certified to oversee his training, so it won't be much trouble." Then, he inclines his head in Midoriya's direction, and though Naomasa can't see what the man's expression is behind his mask, he can tell the hero is impressed, or maybe intrigued. "Plus, I get the feelin' this kid's a good aim."

Midoriya doesn't even blink. He just bows slightly at Snipe in silent thanks.

Huh. Okay. Well then.

"Are you alright with this arrangement, Midoriya?" He has to ask because Naomasa is pretty sure that gun certification training is usually reserved for second-years and third-years who want to have firearms as part of their whole gig.

And besides that, Midoriya might not want to use a gun again after this entire ordeal. Naomasa won't blame him if that's the case.

Unlike what Naomasa thought, however, Midoriya nods again. "Yeah."

Truth.

Welp. That settles it. Apparently.

"Okay then," Naomasa breathes out the stress building up in his spine. "I'll take note of that, have it written down somewhere. I'll handle the paperwork on that end. And definitely get your mom's permission on this, Midoriya. Thank you, Snipe."

"No prob. Believe me, I don't want anybody givin' kids crap for usin' what they got to keep themselves safe just as much as you do, detective."

With that, the hero saunters off, leaving behind a golden chance of avoiding disaster, and a moment for Naomasa to loosen his shoulders from overthinking an array of various solutions and contingency plans.

Being part of law enforcement never gets easier.

"I'm sure you know this but getting a license for firearm usage doesn't mean you can just freely wave one around in public," Naomasa reminds uselessly, as he wants to give himself peace of mind knowing damn well he won't ever have a moment's peace at all when his Problem Child is out in the world. He trusts the kid, he does; a little assurance never hurt, though.

"I know."

Naomasa offers a tired but thankful grin. "I'll be collecting more statements from your classmates. Go find your friends; I'm pretty sure they've been glaring daggers at my back for a solid half-hour now." It was meant to be a joke, although considering how protective Bakugou and their other friend (Aizawa's son, what the sh*t, okay)are, Naomasa reconsiders it. At least Midoriya has some reliable friends backing him up.

The kid turns his head, likely having found his friends instantly when he huffs softly in what Naomasa assumes is slight incredulity. "Sure. See you, detective."

"Oh, and If you need anything, just give me a call or stop by the precinct, okay? I mean it; you have a bad habit of asking for help at the last minute."

Midoriya nods one last time and he's off without another word, with Naomasa, once again, wondering how his life became this and why he doesn't regret it a single bit. Must be the coffee deprivation.

"See ya around, kiddo."

~

Bang!

He heard screaming now. But it didn't sound afraid. It sounded angry and vicious, and he expected it.

He expected enemies gunning for him like moths drawn to the pyre. He knew to end it before it could begin.

He locked on. He wouldn't miss it.

But why did he?

~

"Fear not, for I am here!"

When Toshinori burst through the doors of the USJ with a lot more force than necessary (he was nearly too late, always too late), the sound of a thunderclap cut through the air, except it was much more different and deadly than a thunderclap.

Beyond the dust clouds almost blocking his vision, he found young Midoriya holding a gun (oh, why is his student holding a gun, is that real? Does it have real bullets inside?)aimed at—

"You motherf*cker!"

Another young man with dozens of disembodied hands on his person(are they props or the real deal?)roared in pure, untamed fury, clutching his shoulder.

It bled profusely, trickling through his fingers. Contrary to popular belief among his peers, Toshinori wasn't an unobservant oaf. He could guess what ensued but wasn't about to jump the gun.

Speaking of...

"You're dead! Do you hear me, brat?! You're f*cking dead!" The villain—because Toshinori was a hundred percent sure it was a villain from aesthetics and general disposition alone—screeched and practically barreled through the plaza to get to young Midoriya, who still had the gun in his hand, pointing it at the other man. The boy was as still as a statue.

And Toshinori paused at the sight of Eraserhead sprawled unconscious and battered to hell, and a large dark creature lying dead in a small puddle of blood for a split secondbefore three more shots rang in the entire facility, and the hand-covered villain writhed on the ground, a bullet for each thigh, and one digging straight through the center of his right hand.

Everything else fell into motion quickly.

The other villain with a dark and misty form jostled young Bakugou and young Kirishima off him upon seeing his fallen ally and tried to swallow them and young Midoriya in its shadows, but Toshinori was faster.

With his enhanced speed, he gathered all five children and then Eraserhead from the plaza, the strong breeze forcing the mist villain (it's a Warp Quirk user, be wary, All Might) and the other congregating criminals-for-hire to stumble on their backs.

He placed the students and their injured teacher near the stairs with the hope that they would listen to reason and self-preservation and head straight for the entrance. Toshinori turned to face the villains again, ready to fight, to protect his students, but a cyclone of dark clouds surrounded the still-thrashing villain.

And in a blink, they were gone, leaving behind a chaotic mess for the heroes, and a sh*t ton of questions for All Might.

Even now, Toshinori is still confused about what happened.

Well, not stumped enough to prevent himself from doing his job and reporting the situation to the police as well as checking in on his students, but it's the principle of the thing.

He got the whole story from the many testimonies of the children via Tsukauchi (who looks ready to bury himself in a mountain of files and paperwork... Toshinori should take him out for lunch and help ease his stress) but it nevertheless feels...surreal.

Is this what the people from the pre-Quirk era meant when they say they were "stuck in the Matrix"? That couldn't be it, though, because as far as Toshinori knows, they're not trapped in some simulation. This isn't made up.

Everything that has occurred today is real. What young Midoriya did earlier to those villains was real, and Toshinori is- Well. He's not entirely sure what to think.

He can't ignore the facts laid out before him. Young Midoriya shot a villain(and didn't kill him, focus on that, All Might-Toshinori)and embedded the rods in the Nomu creature's brain, rendering it lifeless. When put plainly, any citizen would think the kid is just as, if not more, dangerous than the villains who initiated the attack on the USJ.

But he also knows that young Midoriya isn't a mindless killer. That much is obvious, and Toshinori likes to believe he's a good judge of character.

The boy has never once given him the impression that he's not what he seems. His self-contained temperament hardly calls for distrust; if anything, it balances out young Bakugou's impassioned drive to better himself (and instinct to scream at things, but that's unrelated).

Throughout their time training, Toshinori has only ever picked up little bits and pieces of his student's nature from observation alone. Then it upgraded to him sharing simple info, like how his favorite animals are dogs or his favorite place for vacations is beaches with seaside cliffs. Or how blatant his love and admiration for his mother is, which is endearing to know.

What he surmises is this: Midoriya Izuku is probably the kindest kid he's ever met.

And... Quite possibly the loneliest.

While yes, he has his mother, young Bakugou, Aiyama (and practically the majority of Musutafu's local police department, if Tamikawa's words are to be believed), Tsukauchi, his classmates, and Toshinori supporting him, there's just this aura around him that only Toshinori can see.

It's muted, subtle, and easy to miss when one isn't actively searching for it, but there's something almost melancholic about the boy who can do the impossible despite the world's jeers, taunts, and utter unfairness. Toshinori can understand that; it's never entirely manageable existing as someone deemed worthless by society.

Even with a large support network and acts of service making a difference, the effects of a long time of abuse and judgment don't simply go away. They stick with you like gum, and for Midoriya, it must feel like epoxy glue. It's as though he's bearing the brunt of something horrible, cursed to carry it forever.

Yet he tries anyway. He does his best with what he's been given—and judging from Tsukauchi's stories of the boy's misadventures, that sentiment rings true in a literal sense—and soldiers through every obstacle, shoulders squared and eyes trained forward.

In that way, young Midoriya is far braver and stronger than Toshinori used to be at his age before he gathered the pluck to meet his Master.

But did any of that mean Midoriya is incapable of taking the drastic route? The last resort when backed into a corner?

No, as it turns out.

Young Midoriya may be even-tempered, but today has confirmed to Toshinori that he's not so yielding to life-threatening danger as anyone expected. Toshinori isn't sure if that would spell something troubling in the future, something bleak and irreversible, but...

As he watches the boy from the corner of his eye, talking with Tsukauchi and Snipe with traces of that same melancholy and something hauntedin his blank eyes, Toshinori believes with every fiber of his being that young Midoriya is not evil, nor is he like the monster All Might had been responsible to fight.

Midoriya Izuku, down to the bare bones, is good.He protects his loved ones from harm, even strangers. He keeps an extra handkerchief for when Toshinori hacks up a lung again. He makes sure young Bakugou doesn't exert himself too much with training. He helps those in need without asking for much in return. He incapacitates a villain without killing him, with the intent to keep his classmates safe. He doesn't kill because he is good.

It'll be hard to keep the heavy hand of the higher-ups away from the boy, but Toshinori is confident they'll find a way around it.

And if there ever will come a time when young Midoriya is standing on the edge of the precipice, Toshinori will be there to pull him back into the steady support of his friends and family. He'll be the kind of hero the kid deserves.

Because young Midoriya is not alone anymore.

~

BANG!

He hit his mark yet missed. He missed because of another sound, another word, another anchor tethering him to the shore. It was an instinct he ingrained in himself, overriding the other programs he'd been raised to follow.

It tugged at his arm like a string on a puppet and—

"Fear not, for I am here!"

The sun shone in his eyes, and he missed.

He did not hit the red circle at the center, but rather the white lines surrounding it. A dent in the armor's side.

(He hit the villain's shoulder.

It could've been his brain—

—could've been his heart—

—but the bullet hit his shoulder instead.)

He missed. And he was glad he did. If he didn't, it meant he was back again for real. Back to taking, and taking, and taking, always. Like he used to. Like he was made to do.

He didn't take anything else anymore. The sun had expectations of him, a monster from the shadows, even if those expectations were simple. He was meant, now, to do good.To save rather than kill. To protect rather than hunt.

To make Mom (Helen) proud rather than force himself into thinking the Director would love him if he broke himself further to fit her mold.

He was not who he was before all this. Yet he still carried the broken pieces of who he used to be with him, now. He still pulled the trigger.

But it was not for him. It was for Izuku, the life he built from scratch. He wanted to protect what was precious to Izuku, and he found that he'd pull the trigger again in a heartbeat.

"Youmotherf*cker!"

Blood seeped through the hole in the shoulder, the muscles torn and scarred. His target's seething rage was ever-present in his clenched fists. Big mistake. Anger begets mistakes begets lifelong regrets. Promises of death spilled from the man's teeth.

You're dead! Do you hear me, brat?! You're f*cking dead!

(The villain ran to him then.

But he shot him in the legs, in the hand.

He lost the moment he fell and squirmed on the ground.)

He shot his target three more before the wind picked up, and he was left wondering if he ever completed this mission.

He did.

He protected who he needed to protect. His job was done.

(Didn't he make a vow?)

(Or did it not matter in the end?)

Then after the whirlwind of shadows and mist, the silence came after, and it was...

Deafening.

And the world returned to him again, yet he still drifted. A ghost wandering the living plane. A walking corpse amongst living bodies.

He thought he spoke with someone important to him. He thought he agreed to have eyes watching his movements. He thought his companions were there, keeping him close despite the blood on his hands.

He thought he'd be dead by now.

But he was alive today and tomorrow wouldn't wait for him to appreciate it.

("Hey, Deku. You good?")

No. He didn't think he ever was, even as he tried to pretend.

("Yeah.")

Chapter 13: perhaps even these things will be good to remember one day

Chapter Text

Now, here's the thing.

Midoriya Inko prides herself in her abilities as a mom. As (vehemently) stated plenty of times by Mitsuki, she's a damn good one.

As such, she isn't as oblivious as her son seems to think when it comes to what he does when he's not at home. Okay, she doesn't know all the specifics, and she could just be basing this on Mother's Intuition, but she recognizes the kind of trouble Izuku inadvertently gets involved in.

It had been by sheer luck that she caught him at a local playground one day, stopping a trio of older kids from hurting a young girl with sheep features, using the toys from the sandbox, shockingly enough.

She was surprised to be sure, but it fell into the wayside for the surging, swirling feeling of pride and worry in her chest. She knew since day one that her boy always had a kind heart. She used to fear that, after they visited the doctor, this world so centered around power, fame, and Quirks would destroy him, rip the compassion out of him, and leave him cold and bitter.

She feared she'd fail Izuku without knowing it, and he would grow to resent her for not trying hard enough, for not providing him what every kid in the world had.

None of that happened, though. When it comes down to it, her Izuku is such a kind and gentle soul; a kind and gentle soul who clearly can defend himself and others, even by unconventional means.

On the one hand, Inko is so utterly proudof her boy for protecting others and using what he learned from his defense classes to diffuse the situation as best as he could. On the other, the mother in her can't help but worry for his safety.

Her son is not fragile, she knows that deep down. Humanity survived way before Quirks ever emerged, so it doesn't make a difference that her baby is Quirkless. He's as tough as they come and the holographic message after the Entrance Exams cemented what Inko already knew.

But still, even with his skills, going up against dangerous people that could kill you with just a flick of the wrist or a well-aimed stare? She physically can't imagine the possibilities without her stomach churning. Those sorts of scenarios already invade her dreams on the worse nights.

Her son is not fragile, he never was, but he isn't invincible either. He's still just a boy in his first year of high school.

And what else can she say? Inko has always been the worrier type, so no one can judge or blame her for being a raging Mother Hen throughout the week after the USJ incident.

Izuku doesn't appear to mind the hovering and fussing, though.

He takes her worries in stride, letting her handle the reins of caring for him until the cuts and bruises on his skin fade away. She's not sure how well he's doing mentally, but he insists with gentle (if a little clumsy) promises that he's okay.

Inko doesn't fully believe him.

Throughout the first few days, she saw the way he carried himself so stiffly yet withdrawn, as though he was moving his body without his mind being completely there.She saw how he'd stare intently at nothing before blinking back to awareness. She saw how differentIzuku was after the USJ fiasco as if he was a soldier who came back fresh from the war.

That comparison, in hindsight, didn't seem so far off. It scares her just as much as it breaks her heart.

She thought about getting Izuku into therapy. U.A.'s principal had already sent all the concerned parents an email detailing that the school would pay for any therapy bills they would need, adding they have a counselor on staff as well and Inko wishes to utilize that for her son. The first step to get there is to talk to him about it.

That in itself is a matter all on its own. Inko knows her son and she knows he's reserved and introverted by nature so it's a toss-up if he'll ever talk about his experience and be open to seeing a therapist. She has her hopes, though.

But after watching him slowly become himself again, looking less like a ghost with a weight on his mind, Inko doesn't want to make him feel like he's being backed into a corner with her prodding. She doesn't want him to feel obligated to share whatever is on his mind and risk circling back to being closed off just because she's his mother.

She wants him to tell her when he's ready, not because he was forced to.

Her boy is a teenager, after all, and teens are known to want some independence and agency.

Inko is willing to give Izuku a sensible amount of space in that department, but he's smart enough not to stop her from fretting over his physical injuries. Lots of ice, pain medication, and good food perfectly pave a smooth road to recovery. It still gives her a sick feeling in her stomach that she needs to perform this extent of first aid in the first place.

It's only been a few days since the school year began. April is still underway, and already her son has been put through the wringer. All the kids in his class have, honestly. It's sheer luck, again, that All Might had been there.

Inko's just grateful the children are all alive and safe. Especially Izuku.

Oh, her poor boy... When she first got the call from a friendly detective, Inko just about had an internal nervous breakdown but stayed strong enough to hear what he had to say, and afterward, she lit a fiery path to the school to pick her son up. Mitsuki had been right behind her, concealing her anxiety with expletives and threats of physical violence against the villains who tried hurting her son.

A lot of tears were involved (thanks to Inko), mostly out of relief. Izuku hadn't looked close to what she fearfully imagined he'd look like considering the circ*mstances, but she was thankful, all the same, that she didn't need to see her son in a hospital bed.

Maybe she'll broach the subject of therapy later on when they're both on steadier feet.

"Are you sure you don't need anything else, honey?" Inko asks (she lost count of how much she did that, but she wants to be thorough) as she pads around the kitchen.

Izuku, the skin of his face decorated with faint yellow splotches, looks up from the book he's reading on the couch, his expression not once contorting into an annoyed frown as one would expect from a typical teen.

Instead, he seems amused with his slightly raised brows and soft, relaxed look. "I'm fine, Mom, really. Thank you."

She smiles. Always so polite, her boy. "Alright, then. Let me know if—"

"If I need anything, yeah. I will. Thanks, Mom."

Inko wants to extend that same invitation when he's involved in scuffles when he's not at home, but something in her holds her back.

She doesn't think Izuku is hiding what he does from her purposefully to blindside her, but she knows that if he did tell her, she'd probably make a huge mountain out of it. Izuku is a private person like that. She'll let him tell her in his own time. As long as he's being careful, she won't poke at that particular elephant.

Hours later, there's a knock on the door.

It's Katsuki and his and Izuku's new friend who Inko has been growing quite fond of over the past year (if not a little concerned due to the dark bags under the boy's eyes, which she chalks up to insomnia or the teenage rebellion of staying up past their bedtime) with a Katsuki-like declaration of taking Izuku out for the day.

As much as Inko wants to spoil her boy for another week, she's sure being around his friends would do him good.

Her son deserves a day of fun and Inko is all the more willing to give it to him.

~

~

The weather outside promises nothing but a mildly sunny day instead of a torrent of rain, which John considers to be a fringe benefit. After the USJ, he's beginning to dislike rain. Slightly. A lot. Yeah, perhaps a lot.

(He disliked rain beforetoo.)

At least he didn't get sick. Mom didn't need another reason to freak out, especially when she's been taking extra steps to help him heal from the external injuries he received. He sometimes worries she'll run herself sick with all the fretting she's doing but he figures just letting her go through her mother-henning would ease some of her anxiety.

(would she fear him if she knew what he had done?)

It certainly helped Mom by the latter half of the week, emotionally. She's far less tense and fretful around him as she works in the kitchen, a faint echo of the day post-Entrance Exams when the worst injuries he got were just scrapes on his cheeks and elbows.

(would she not heal his wounds if she realized what her son turned into? what he used to be?)

John should get her something as an apology for all the stress he put her in, indirectly or not. She was crying herself to dehydration when she arrived at the school to pick him up. He could make her dinner. Yeah, that could work. He isn't a five-star chef but he can make a decent meal.

Before then, John stays in his room, content with just making plans in his head while resting in the silence he once took for granted. It's nice. Maybe he can go for a nap or two, and enjoy the peace while it lasts.

(it never does, does it?)

But a meteor crashes into his room, effectively setting all of his plans up in smoke, and it's in the form of Bakugou Katsuki. And Hitoshi, for some reason.

"Get dressed, asshole, we're going to the arcade."

Katsuki had all but manhandled John into a respectable outfit for going out while Hitoshi argued the blond's "poor tastes in fashion" by the end of it. The same song and dance which they skillfully hid away from Mom (who evidently allowed this outing the moment his friends were at the front door) except John elected to ignore them until the shopping district came to view, and before he knew it, John is standing in the middle of a spacious arcade that he vaguely guesses used to be a nightclub of sorts.

Whatever. He's not going to think about that now.(Think of something else. Anything else, anything at all.)

What heisgoing to think about is his escape plan. He refuses to undergo whatever scheme Katsuki and Hitoshi have concocted together when John wasn't looking.

They were supposed to recuperate during the free week they had been given and John can recognize that he isn't exactly ready right now to engage in normal teenage things like arcade games. He isn't ready to engage in anything else, period.

Unfortunately, Katsuki has an iron grip on his jacket sleeve while Hitoshi trails behind them, likely acting as a 'rear guard' in case John attempts to slip away even though all three of them know it won't be enough to deter him. He'd already be on his way back home before the two of them could grab tokens.

Although...

"Be sure to have fun, okay, dear?"

Mom had been relieved when John (begrudgingly) allowed Katsuki and Hitoshi to take him outside the apartment for the day. Happy knowing he's hanging out with friends like any average boy. He can't say he blames her; he must've worried her, still, for remaining inside the apartment throughout the week instead of mingling with kids his age to regain some sense of normalcy.

John isn't ashamed to acknowledge that he'll bend over backward for his mother if it comes to it. She's his only living family as far as he knows and, since day one, he took a silent oath not to make her cry or cause her pain.

(she will hate you if she knew what you truly are.)

He'll do anything for his mother, do as she asks, but at this moment, he just might reconsider Mom's instruction and go home.

That is if he can remove Katsuki's firm clutch on his wrist and dodge Hitoshi loitering behind him like a sentinel. When those two are determined, they know how to wrangle him. John just sighs internally, accepting his fate like a dog would at the vet.

"Okay, we're here," Hitoshi points out, raising a brow at the complex-looking dance machine near the entrance. The bright neon colors burn John's retinas. "Now what?"

~

~

"How are the kids?"

Hizashi will kill him if he knew Shouta was pushing it with his recovery by talking. Hell, he'll probably snitch and get Recovery Girl so she can kill Shouta herself. But as far as he can tell, Hizashi is currently not present, nor is Recovery Girl, so Shouta can do whatever the hell he wants.

In this instance, ask Tsukauchi about the well-being of his students because at least he can trust the detective to be transparent with him instead of telling him to get some more rest, Shouta.

He deeply appreciates his husband for dividing his time between patrol, teaching his classes, looking after Hitoshi at home, and caring for Shouta in the hospital. Never will he take HIzashi's kindness for granted but sometimes he gets frustratingly dodgy when answering Shouta's questions outside of his recovery.

Shouta hears Tsukauchi sigh lightly, although he's pretty sure the detective is laughing at him but trying to maintain professionalism.

"Your students are fine, Eraser," Tsukauchi answers as the empty chair by the bed creaks softly. "Shaken up by the experience, but otherwise, they're okay. Although I'd recommend some therapy sessions for them, just in case."

Shouta wants to believe him. With this tiny ball of relief in his chest, he wants to believe him. It's irrational for him to doubt Tsukauchi's words and believe whatever his drug-induced brain concocted to fuel his nightmares. It's stupid to deny this olive branch when he'd been drowning in his deep-seated fear of failure yet again.

But fear is one hell of a game-changer.

Sometimes, when he drifts to sleep to fight the dull pain throughout his body, he still feels his bones snapping and breaking again by that monster.Behind closed, bandaged eyes, he still sees Shigaraki reaching out to Hitoshi and Asui, turning them into ash and dust. In fleeting dreams, he still sees the bodies of children who had their dreams cut too short, too soon.

(All because Shouta had been too weak, too slow, too incompetent to prevent it.)

However, in the back of his mind, he remembers seeing a boy standing tall in the face of monsters, practically driving the low-level villains into running by his presence alone. A boy who managed to make it to U.A. against all odds.

A boy who leaves Shouta with more questions than he knows what to do with.

"How's Midoriya?" Shouta asks behind his mask of medical bandages.

Tsukauchi doesn't answer right away. It's either a good sign or a bad one, and Shouta hates figuring out which one it is. Still, he begs with all his might that it isn't a bad one.

The room falls into silence, occasionally punctured by the city's everyday bustle outside the window. If Shouta listens hard enough, he can hear the nurses whispering in the hallway about the USJ incident. About the villains, the heroes, his students, and the aftermath. He doesn't want to think about the worst-case scenarios.

Think of anything else.

Tsukauchi's voice picks up again, carefully neutral and calm. "He's okay too. Why ask for him specifically, if I may?"

Shouta pauses. Thinks on it.

He doesn't know Midoriya all that well outside of what Tsukauchi told him that first time and from his observations throughout the first week of school. Hitoshi probably knows a lot as it's clear to Shouta now that his son and Midoriya are friends. But beyond the basics and a few assumptions, Shouta hardly has a clue about Midoriya's character as a whole.

Well. Until now.

"...He stood up to those villains. On his own."

Shouta can recall the bits and pieces of what happened while falling in and out of consciousness.

He remembers hearing Shigaraki's frustrated screams and seeing Midoriya fighting him and winning. He remembers Midoriya keeping his distance, acting as a wall between Shigaraki and his classmates. Then the disorienting sound of a gun going off and the bustling drone of first responders and Pro Heroes.

It's all a messy blur of events, cluttered, and confusing, but one thing had been clear to him; Midoriya didn't look the least bit afraid.

(It shouldn't catch Shouta's attention so much but it does. Because if he thinks back deeply enough on that moment, recalls the calmness and detachment his student displayed as villains ran away from him, he could've sworn Midoriya looked almost... Deadly. Like a wolf locked onto a threat.)

Tsukauchi snorts at that as if it's an inside joke Shouta has yet to be privy to fully. Then again, maybe it is. Maybe Shouta is slowly beginning to get it.

"Yeah, he's...like that," is all Tsukauchi offers with an exasperation that only Aizawa "Parent of One Teenage Boy" Shouta can relate to.

At the end of their little conversation, Shouta thinks that if this headache doesn't kill him, then the knowledge of Midoriya having the self-preservation skills of a plastic bag will.

~

Today is just great. So great. Super great, in fact, because Hitoshi is ever so slowly kicking Bakugou's ass. Hitoshi thinks this is solidly one of the best days he's ever had.

"Oh damn it!"

"Losing your touch, Mr. Perfectionist?"

"Eat fish bones, you sleepless sack of sh*t!"

"Grouchy today, aren't we?"

Bakugou can only grumble as he lost the last round in Tekken (and he was using Jinpachi too!) while Hitoshi stands from his seat with a solid six out of ten wins (not bad, considering he switched between using Armor King and Dragunov).

Midoriya, on the other hand, is somehow content with just acting as the ticket holder and spectator despite Hitoshi and Bakugou's invites to have a turn.

Sure, he went and played a few claw machines earlier just to win a pack of bubblegum and an All Might keychain (much to Bakugou's embarrassment when Midoriya later gives the thing to him) but eventually, he retired to onlooker status and let Hitoshi play in his stead.

Hitoshi initially didn't win a great number of games but to his surprise, he soon managed to knock Bakugou down a few pegs in the first round of Street Fighter.

He'll cherish the pure outrage on Bakugou's face for years.

The three of them have moved on from the typical 1v1 fighting games and towards the shooting games, most of them being of the VR variety. But Bakugou being Bakugou wanted to do things the old-fashioned way so he hauls Hitoshi by the collar to the light gun game machines like an impatient toddler.

"Best three out of five, asshole, don't slack off!" Bakugou declares once he inserts the tokens and grabs the red arcade gun from its port with fiery zest while Hitoshi gets the blue one.

"Wouldn't dream of it, sh*tnugget." Something tells him he's not gonna make it out of this alive judging from the manic smile his friend/bane of his existence has got going for him.Ugh.

The game begins without much fanfare and Bakugou walks away a tyrant with 500 points, leaving Hitoshi to kiss his win streak goodbye with his measly 390 points.Damn, he's gonna hold this over me for weeks.

"Oi, Deku, you sure you don't wanna play?" Bakugou asks, the smugness yet to leave his stupid face.

Midoriya gestures to the rest of the arcade but Hitoshi can see how less tense his friend is now, unlike a few hours ago when his subtle body language suggested he was about to leave the both of them in the dust. Maybe Bakubitch had the right idea of getting Mido here. "Yeah. You can keep playing."

While Hitoshi can accept that (because if he's being honest, after a few rounds at the racing games - both the car and motorcycle variety - and some of the ones that need hand-eye coordination, he's noticed Midoriya getting increasingly sluggish) Bakugou doesn't as per usual because his competitive streak demands satisfaction.

So he's off with the wind, probably sniffing out a new game for him to drag Midoriya into playing, likely for the sake of earning another tally to his win streak.

(Or it could just be Bakugou's way of prolonging Midoriya's stay in the arcade, making sure his friend is having fun after a difficult week. Hitoshi can never tell with that explosive bastard, though.)

With a shared look, Hitoshi and Midoriya follow Bakugou's path to the very back of the building where it opens up to an outdoor area. Turns out, a line of food stalls and gaming booths sit right outside, just as packed as the inside. And standing before the cork gun booth is Bakugou, talking to (more like demanding) the owner.

"Took you guys long enough."

Unprompted, he gruffly gives Hitoshi and Midoriya a small wood imitation of a flintlock pistol gun each. Why Bakugou decided to drag Hitoshi into his unspoken contest with Midoriya, he'll never know. But that doesn't mean Hitoshi will pass up the opportunity to wipe that stupid grin off that competitive meathead's face.

"We take turns with this sh*t; the first to get the highest score wins."

"Do we get prizes or bragging rights? Because I'm down for either of those," Hitoshi quips with a smirk.

Bakugou, in typical fashion, points at him and demands, "Then yougo first, Shaggy Hair!"

Hitoshi shrugs. It's not like he's gonna do his absolutebest but he wants to at least try. Maybe he can win that off-brand Presentation Michael toy for Pops. He's got a collection going for the sole purpose of annoying Dad.

With Midoriya and Bakugou standing at the side, Hitoshi readies himself, pointing the toy gun's barrel at the goofy-looking aliens serving as his targets. The stall owner presses a button and the targets move, the LED lights flashing in rhythm to a random tune. He manages to shoot a few marks but ultimately, Hitoshi only earns a meager 25 points. He shrugs. Ah well. He's never had that great of an aim. At least it's enough to get him that Presentation Michael toy.

It's Bakugou's turn now, and Hitoshi sees the high score coming from miles away. 70 points. Jeez, next thing you know, the guy's gonna find a way to make his explosions concentrated enough to blast them like a mini-gun. Now isn't thata terrifying thought? 'Local dynamite boy discovers a new way to terrorize the villains.'

In no time at all, it's Midoriya standing before the booth.

(A sense of something gnaws at his gut as Hitoshi begins to wonder if this is a good idea. You know, taking the mental trauma and everything attached to it into consideration.

Was Midoriya okay with this? Will he be okay afterward? Was having him play this game too soon? He doesn't know. But he'll make damn sure he won't leave his friend to deal with it by himself.)

Uncaring of Hitoshi's inner conflict, the game starts, the targets move, and the lights flash. Midoriya doesn't look fazed in the slightest.

He just breathes, raises the gun, and just hits every single target like it's nothing. He never misses as he keeps focused, quiet, and steady. Even his form looks pretty professional like he's been practicing his whole life.

If he didn't know any better, Hitoshi would assume that his friend never blinked throughout the entire two minutes or is blessed by some greater force to make the shot. But he doesknow better so he watches in awe as Midoriya doesn't pause or hesitate in hitting bullseyes, raising his score bit by bit.

Bakugou hadn't been a slouch either, Hitoshi can admit that since the guy didn't waste ammo like there was no tomorrow, but the difference had been that it took him a bit more time to adjust his aim and shoot.

Here, Midoriya shoots as if he calculated where and when to do so right on the spot. It's...admittedly awesome to watch. Hell, Hitoshi is pretty damn sure Bakugou thinks this is cool as hell. If he doesn't, he'd be f*cking lying.

The timer buzzes and Midoriya beats Bakugou by the grace of every gunslinger in existence at 83 points, triumphing over the latter's 70. There's an ironic joke in there somewhere but Hitoshi is too busy laughing at Bakugou's face turning into a tomato to figure out what it is.

"What the f*ck!"

Hitoshi rolls his eyes as he snickers, "Face it, man, Mido f*cking destroyed you. Save what pride you got left in that angry little body of yours."

"Just shuddup and get your damn toy, Anti-Forty Winks!"

"How long did it take you to come up with that?"

"You—!"

"Hitoshi. Katsuki."

Bakugou grumbles (for the nth time today, Hitoshi lost count) but huffs in satisfaction at the prize he picked out; a pretty pristine and glossy All Might figure in its see-through packaging. And, wow, it's even got tiny props inside. Hitoshi can't help but chuckle.

For such a hotheaded perfectionist with an allergy to being chill, Bakugou sure is a nerd. Not that he'd say it to his face. He does take a sneaky pic of it though; for posterity and potential blackmail material should there ever be a scenario that requires it.

On the other side of the spectrum, Midoriya gets a big plush of a cute cartoon dog that's almost the same height as him. Huh. That is oddly endearing. Stoic, a-little-aloof, definitely-badass Midoriya Izuku getting a plush toy as his prize. Surprises never end with him, do they?

"Is that what you're getting, Mido?"

"Yeah."

"Huh," he stares a little dumbfounded at this newly discovered aspect of his friend. "Didn't know you liked—"

"It's not for me," Midoriya cuts him off. "It's for my mom."

Oh.Oh.Aww, now that's pretty sweet. Hitoshi always figured him to be a mama's boy but he can't blame him. Mama Midoriya deserves the world and Hitoshi's only met the woman a couple of times he's been over at their apartment.

"That's nice of you. But what about you? Not gonna pick one for yourself? You did get a high score."

Midoriya shakes his head. "No. I don't really need anything."

Hitoshi would disagree. In his opinion, Midoriya needs a lot of things; some therapy, maybe lots of ice cream, and a good hug if he allows it. And a stuffed toy or something like the one he's giving to his mom. After the USJ, Hitoshi is inclined to think that his best friend deserves a little bit of softness.

Well, at least Hitoshi has an idea for a birthday gift.

"I mean, there must be something—"

"Oi! Are you dorks done gossiping or what? Let's get something to eat, I'm f*cking starving; you'repaying for the food, Hypnosh*t."

Hitoshi gapes, "What? Why do Iget to do it? You know I'm a broke cat parent, you petty asshole," and soon, another 'argument' sprouts between them on their way to a food place with poor Midoriya and (unofficially named) Midoriya Junior stuck in the middle of it.

At least he's not running away from them. At least he looks less like the sky is crushing him against the earth. At least here, with Hitoshi and Bakugou, Midoriya seems a lot better than he was a week ago.

Today is simply great.

~

"Hey. Deku. Did you... You know, did you have fun or whatever?"

"...Yeah. I did."

(it doesn't feel like a lie.)

~

The young master is displeased when they return.

Of course, the young master is always displeased and ill-natured towards anything that is not his prized gaming device, but this level of irritation is far from his usual temper. It is akin to a furious hurricane, pulling in ruined buildings and debris in its vortex and leaving behind an even grander scale of destruction.

Such is the disposition of Sensei's heir.

"I'm gonna kill that stupid brat!"

Another stool turns to dust, mixing with the blood forming a puddle on the floor, tarnishing Kurogiri's hard work of extensive sweeping and mopping around the bar.

Kurogiri wisely does not comment on it, allowing the young master to throw another one of his tantrums in the face of failure; the failure, in this instance, being the USJ fiasco. It did not end the way Shigaraki Tomura wanted, thus his meltdown of extra proportions.

Kurogiri is logical in that he holds no sense of blind faith in an assured victory. It is attainable, yes, but only when one plays their pieces on the board correctly, choosing strategy over brute force.

Shigaraki Tomura did both and yet he still failed.

"Who does that little sh*t think he is?!" Shigaraki Tomura writhes on the floor, angrily pressing the bullet wound in his shoulder with one finger raised. He trashes his legs despite the injuries, creating an even bigger mess of crimson on mahogany brown.

Kurogiri fetches the first-aid kit under the bar counter without pause.

"He's a f*cking hacker!He probably had cheat codes so he was able to kill my Nomu! He had a trump card; a Quirk that let him kill it!"

Highly unlikely, if the villains they recruited for their assault are to be believed.

The green devil,those people said with such terror and recognition.

Then, like a demon with its name spoken thrice, an unassuming boy came and took down the Nomu and the young master almost effortlessly, effectively ending the USJ attack before All Might arrived. And he did it all without using a Quirk, it seemed. Only armed with a staff and a gun. Peculiar.

Kurogiri prefers to keep tabs on the goings-on in the underworld. Rumors, deals, schemes; the works. It also helps that he and Sensei have Giran do the groundwork of intel-gathering.

Kurogiri is well-informed in most things, including the neverending grapevine that is the underworld rumor mill, so imagine his muted surprise when he connects "the green devil" name to the figure of so-called myth, a shadow on the walls, the monster all villains and crooks fear encountering in alleyways, and the angel in disguise for the innocents to rely on.

It is a near-recent tale, worth perhaps a few years. Much unlike the prevailing legend of Sensei that lasted for centuries. However, it strikes fear and caution in villains, all the same. A boogeyman for the boogeymen. Peculiar indeed.

"Oi, Kurogiri, you better find me that kid's name 'cause I'm gonna—"

"Ah, Tomura. I see your seige has failed."

The television screen had long since been active. Kurogiri prepares for whatever scolding Sensei will undoubtedly bring. Or sage advice, as few and far between they gradually came to be.

Shigaraki Tomura scoffs but answers as respectfully as he can, "More like ruined,Sensei. Some U.A. brat destroyedeverythingI've built. He managed to kill my Nomu!"

A contemplative silence.

"Is that so?"

"Yeah, and he even made the grunts run away like cowards and piss their pants, it was annoying. Hewas annoying. Acting all brave and crap like he's some stupid hero. But he's just some brat!"

"And what does this 'brat' look like, Tomura?"

"Huh? Nothing special... Just dumb green hair and eyes. Looks plain as hell to me."

Sensei hums, an amused, all-knowing sound. "Well, that boy sounds awfully familiar. Don't you think, Kurogiri?"

"Yes, Sensei."

"And you, Kreuger?"

"Whatisn'tfamiliar about that brat at this point?" The aforementioned man cackles drunkenly from the dirtied couch in the corner of the bar. Ah. Kurogiri forgot he warped the man here as well under the Master's orders. "A f*cking Brothers Grimm fairy tale come to life if I ever knew one."

"What the f*ck are you talking about, Kreuger?" Shigaraki Tomura's fingers creak and crack as he flexes them, a telltale sign of his kindling aggression, and Kurogiri watches out for an outburst. At the rate Kreuger is going, he may well become another anthill of crumbled bones for the young master to create.

Magenta eyes shine maniacally despite how relaxed Kreuger lounges. "Oh,you wouldn't get it. Then again, you got a taste of it already, so maybe you do; just a little bit."

It is clear to Kurogiri that his charge is not in the mood for vagueness and insolent riddles but he remains behind the bar, a silent guard over the young master's mood.

"Sensei, can I kill him? I wanna kill him. He'sannoying,"Shigaraki Tomura seethes, completely ignoring the bullet wounds on his body to prepare for another bloodstained incident.

"Calm yourself, Tomura. Kreuger may be a significant help to you in your cause."

"How can thisidiotbe of use to me, Sensei? He's barely making any sense!"

"It's 'cause I know some sh*t about the little f*cker that beat your bony ass, you washed up raisin," Kreuger answers crudely but his face betrays his excitement and thrill. Over what, Kurogiri can hardly put a pin on it, much less give a considered thought. So long as the man can benefit the League of Villains and bring Shigaraki Tomura and Sensei closer to their goals, Kurogiri will not concern himself with whatever is on Kreuger's mind.

Hackles rising once more, Shigaraki Tomura snarls in seething rage, "That U.A. brat? That f*ckingnobody?"

"That 'nobody', Tomura, is the Viridian Devil,"Sensei says, bringing a certain pressure in the room with his words. It is a heaviness that forces Shigaraki Tomura to listen and Kreuger to silence himself.

"The guy everyone in the underworld keeps whining about? Like a boogeyman?" Shigaraki Tomura questions, allowing Kurogiri the opportunity to bandage his injuries and start mopping the floor clean once again. He does not need to pay attention to this tale. He has heard quite enough to form a picture.

Sensei chuckles and it is a dark, ominous thing."Precisely. Although you may argue that he's the one the boogeyman always hides away from."

"Oh," Shigaraki Tomura breathes, something akin to veneration and disbelief damping his ire before they are washed away by indignation on his lord's behalf. "Does this devil guy scare you, Sensei? I don't believe that."

"No, not at all, Tomura."Kurogiri can hear the toothy smile from the other side."In fact, I am...intrigued. Curious, even."

That catches Shigaraki Tomura's attention.

"Many sources tell different stories, Tomura," Sensei continues. "Some say the Viridian Devil is a child while others argue he is an adult. Some claim he's a human while others say he's a ghost. Some believe him to have a Quirk while others attest that he's Quirkless. But one thing is for certain among the weak, the cowardly, and the delusional; when he gazes upon you, it will feel like death is biding its time.

"Of course, he is not like me; I am morethan he is. But he is what those hiding in the shadows fear most when they think they can extinguish the light.

"And I am fascinated,Tomura. Fascinated to know that such a person is within U.A.'s walls and that he has killed the Nomu so easily despite the Doctor's bluster of its strength, despite its purpose of being All Might's equal. He is truly someone worth watching. Don't you think so, Kreuger?"

The grating laughter echoes in the bar, emphasized by Kreuger's elated clapping. "I'll say! By far my favorite little mind to pick apart even though he's irritating as hell. Oh,better watch yourself now, Tomura-chan,or the Devil might stab you from behind when you're not looking!"

Kurogiri sees it coming. He opens a small portal before Shigaraki Tomura can lash a hand out to Kreuger. "Shigaraki Tomura, calm yourself."

"I'll do that when I turn thisdumb sh*t into—"

"Tomura."

The young master stops. Sensei is not angry, Kurogiri knows. In fact, Sensei's patience for his heir is as long-lasting as Kurogiri's. Tonight will be a teachable moment, it seems. Kurogiri only wishes that Shigaraki Tomura listens carefully this time.

"No need to be so angry at your comrade. He may well be a valuable ally. And this failure is but another stepping stone to your victory so have patience."

"Sensei..."

"As for the Viridian Devil, I will let you decide for yourself what to do with him. Whether you'll eliminate him or have him join our ranks, I will support you no matter what, Tomura," Sensei says but Kurogiri is almost certain he has plans for the Viridian Devil - a U.A. student, a hero-in-training - no matter what Shigaraki Tomura decides. Whatever it is, Kurogiri will do what he must to support him.

All for the Master.

~

Chapter 14: reach for the heights

Chapter Text

A giant flame burns slowly in the house like an explosion waiting to happen, grumbling and stomping into the early morning.

Shouto isn't surprised. It must be annoying juggling an agency, being the second-best hero, and handling cases that needed a walking ball of fire, apparently. Indeed, what a tragedy.

Not that he cares, though. The geezer can complain about his interns and whine about work piling up all he wants. It still wouldn't change that he's a piece of sh*t giving Fuyumi a hard time with his attitude. But Shouto will remain quiet about it for her sake. Getting into another one-sided shouting match with the old bastard will only upset her.

And Shouto hates upsetting his sister more than anything, even if a big part of him knew he already was doing that by keeping his distance from her.

So he rolls his eyes in the fragile safety of his room and grabs his bag. Fuyumi will probably be disappointed that he skipped breakfast, but Shouto doesn't want to be in the house longer than he has to. She'll understand. He can eat breakfast in the cafeteria despite the soba not tasting as good as Fuyumi's.

He just needs to get out.

"Shouto."

Damn it. And he just reached the front door.

"What." Shouto doesn't bother turning around. He knows what he'll see, knows what he'll hear.

Endeavor's permanent scowl and a reprimand for something, another lecture for breathing incorrectly, or moving some furniture in the living room two inches to the left. Practically everything pisses off the bastard these days. It must be his age catching up to him.

"Don't take that tone with me," Endeavor snaps, the stupid fire maskhe's got going on bursting at the same time.

'What tone?' He doesn't question. 'I didn't even yell, you're just being an asshole,' he doesn't say.

He knows it'll be useless to explain himself no matter how tempting it is to bite back and let the ratbag have it. Arguing with Endeavor is the equivalent of talking to a brick wall - a stubborn, hotheaded, annoying wall stopping him from going to school as fast as possible.

Keeping himself in check, Shouto meets the man's glower with his indifferent stare. "What do you want?"

Endeavor scoffs, as per usual, "The USJ debacle is still spreading all over the news, which would make petty villains think U.A. has become weak. Now that classes have resumed, you will train twice as hard and..."

By then, Shouto has long since tuned out the same stupid nonsense about training, being the perfect heir,and surpassing All Might. What a load of bullsh*t.

He'd been pushing himself to the bone for hours ever since the USJ attack. More often than he'd like, Shouto would get yelled at for not reacting fast enough or neglecting to use his fire other than keeping his temperature leveled. His muscles would burn and ache, and his sh*tty father would stand over him, barking orders and demanding he start the drills over again until it was time for him to leave for the agency.

Endeavor called it training, but Shouto called it torture.

(--because how could he have known that the USJ would be under attack or that two of the strongest villains would be taken down by his Quirkless classmate with just a staff and a gun? Would anything even change if Shouto had arrived earlier? Or would his Quirkless classmate still find a way to defeat them?)

Endeavor is still talking. Shouto has lost count of how many times he's heard this spiel, but he's sure he can recite it a hundred times down to the timbre if asked. It's so stupid. Endeavoris stupid, and the long-standing champion of being the number one scumbag in the world.

Shouto just wants to go to school where he can think in peace.

"That is all," Endeavor finally says as if he's some oppressive general or a slave driver. Both of those descriptions fit perfectly.

Shouto doesn't wait for him to hand over his dumb permission to leave nor does he spare a goodbye. He slams the door shut behind him, and for at least this moment, he remembers to breathe.

~

Shouto is in class. He hears about the Sports Festival, an event the old man will undoubtedly nag him into training hard for, and—

(observes Midoriya, assesses everything about him, wonders about what makes him strong enough to be here; to be able to take down a freak of nature without dying; to look like his brush with death hadn't rattled him at all; to call himself a hero-in-training when he has essentially nothing)

—absently watches other students gathering like sheep outside the classroom. They gawk and they sneer, and they don't matter to him anyway. Later, he passes through the other door, quiet as a mouse.

He wants that soba now. He'll (talk to) confront Midoriya at the Sports Festival instead.

~

The atmosphere at UA has changed.

It's not a drastic change, but a modest shift, like the colors had become a little less vibrant and the air a little more tense.

John isn't surprised. The news about the USJ continues to circle in plenty of news cycles (John and Katsuki had to evade curious strangers on the train early this morning once they recognized their uniforms), and word gets around the school fast. John ignores it for the most part.

He learned long ago that, no matter the tragedy, the world will go on turning, overlooking the catastrophes until they become history.

Although he can't ignore Aizawa standing in front of the class wrapped up like a mummy when he should still be at the hospital resting. He's ninety percent sure there's a school policy somewhere about this, but given that the man first introduced himself in a sleeping bag, it's probably best to leave Aizawa be.The others have other sentiments.

"Sensei! Isn't it too soon for you to return to teaching?! Especially in your current state?!" Iida raises a hand, visibly distressed.

"I'm fine. I visit Recovery Girl to speed up the healing process anyway," is their teacher's bored response, likely a tactic to dispel any worries. Behind John, Hitoshi sighs like a disappointed parent while the others murmur about how "hardcore" the UA teachers are.

John would prefer the term reckless,but who was he to judge when, once upon a time, he had fallen from a high building, got damaged further on the way down, only to get back up and run? (Extenuating circ*mstances aside.)

And as exceptionally skilled as Recovery Girl is in her field, she has her limits, and John doesn't doubt that Aizawa knows that.

"Enough about me. We've got more important things to discuss. Your fight isn't over yet."

An abrupt hush pervades the room at Aizawa's words, setting most of them on the edge of their seats until...

"The Sports Festival is coming up."

Despite the tonal whiplash, the class erupts excitedly ("A normal school event!") while John sits in pensive silence over the news. After what happened the other week, he assumed UA would hold off on an annual event like the Sports Festival. Or did it not matter in the end, so long as the students were still alive?

According to Aizawa, it was the school's way of showing the world — and the villains — that they're handling things as they come, projecting an image of strength and resolve to move past the USJ incident. It's a strange decision, but John can understand the reasoning, for all that it's flimsy at best.

Even when classes are over, the upcoming Sports Festival remains a central topic of discussion. John stays on the sidelines of such conversations. He hardly has anything beneficial to contribute.

In his experience, sports festivals usually consisted of kids trying to one-up each other in events or attempting to sabotage him and other Quirkless children just for "fun". At least in the latter situation, John exerted enough effort into winning against the spiteful elementary and middle school kids (Katsuki included) just so the Quirkless students could enjoy the rest of the festival.

(And in hispastexperiences, competitions never led to anything rewarding beyond a nod of affirmation from the Director and the trainers and another day of living. Normally, it ended in more rivalries and deep-seated hatred.)

It'll be different with UA. Aizawa mentioned before that this event would be their chance to show what they were capable of and determine how many hero agencies would be willing to have them as interns. On top of that, it won't just be the school and Pro Heroes watching.

The spotlight will be on them, bright and scorching. This event is a double-edged sword, but he won't let himself and anyone else be the first to get cut. He will just need to be careful as he always is and be prepared for every kind of scenario he can think of.

"Ah, so this must be the infamous Class 1-A, huh? Honestly, I was expecting more."

A large crowd has formed outside the classroom. A very considerable crowd with lots of prying eyes. Wonderful.

Hitoshi frowns. "What are they doing over there? They're all staring at us."

Katsuki scowls beside him, plainly annoyed by the hallway traffic. "Checking out the competition."

Of course, that's what this is - an enemy gathering information about their target opponent before setting plans into motion.

Before, it might've spurred him into formulating countermeasures and backup plans, second blades hidden under his sleeves, and an extra firearm in his belt to be thorough.

Now, he knows it's something else. Something not entirely life-threatening (to an extent. Odds are low, but never zero when it comes to people taking things too far in the heat of the moment).

John remains eyeing the mass of students for anything awry, noting their body language (curious, high-strung, envious, intimidated) until a blond-haired boy steps forward. At first glance, he comes off as cordial, relaxed, and unassuming, but John can tell it's far from the truth. His face says plenty before his mouth does.

"After all the stuff I heard on the news, I thought you all would be tough-looking and spectacular - you know, people befitting the position in Class A," the newcomer speaks with the charm of a novice poisoner, not even trying to be subtle and going straight to provocation. "Now I'm just disappointed. You guys don't seem like much at all."

From a spark to a flame, most of the class combusts into outrage. Iida and Yaoyorozu attempt to smoothen things out before things get decidedly ugly, stopping those like Kaminari, Sero, and Ashido from giving a piece of their minds, but teenagers and their inherent need to be belligerent swipe every option for peace off the table.

"I still can't believe a bunch of riffraff like you got to be in the spotlight because of this; I mean, you barely look like you've got any scratches on you."

(Hitoshi and Asui, only a second away from death; Aizawa, bleeding and broken; a man with severed hands, declaring he'd kill him; Kreuger, dragging the skeletons from his basem*nt into the open; a gun in his hand and the sun in his eye.)

(It's not important anymore. It's over. What's important is what happens next.)

The scent of caramelized sugar and smoke and the screech of a chair pushed backward greet John's senses.

Iida and Yaoyorozu, try as they might, are gradually failing at keeping order, appearing tense and uncomfortable just as much as the others. The stranger persists in whatever melodramatic rant he's prepared for Class 1-A to hear against their will. John just wants to eat lunch.

And clearly, so does Katsuki.

With his hands in his pockets and the audacity of someone who's worked hard to earn their place in the class front and center, he cuts off the diatribe (without screaming, thankfully) and earns some aggravated comments from the crowd. co*cky. Self-absorbed. Egotistical. The usual things they've heard before.

Then Hitoshi joins the fray, his words sarcastic and sharp enough to hit a collective nerve, and before long, it's most of the student body against their class of twenty. Well, more specifically, against Katsuki, Hitoshi, and the rest of 1-A by proxy.

John would like it on the record that he did not sign up to get dragged into it either.

"Hey, if all of you 1-A jerks are so strong, why the hell do you have a Quirkless loser among you?"

"Yeah, I bet he was way more useless at the USJ than the rest of you!"

"He probably hid the whole time like a coward."

How they even know he's Quirkless is beyond him, but ultimately not much of a concern. On one hand, for most of his time in UA, John had been fine not disclosing that he had no powers whatsoever.

On the other hand, he did not particularly care if anyone else found out and disclosed that detail to other people, reactions notwithstanding.

On the other,other hand, he knew from his history that it was a detail nobody liked and often harassed or belittled him for, which was generally irritating, like trying to bat a fly away from your face.

And on the hand that carried the most sense, he still did not care. He was 'Quirkless' in one lifetime, he can be that again. It's annoying to sit through the repetitive slights of children and the condescending remarks of adults, to be sure, but he'll handle it as he always has since the beginning.

Except, on the final hand that held the tiny ball called hindsight, John remembers he had people who take major personal offense in his stead.

"You wanna f*cking repeat that, asshole?!"

"If you got something to say, speak louder so I have a good reason to kick your ass."

"You wanna go, man?!"

"I may have been too far away to see it, but he sure as hell wasn'tuseless back there!"

"You did not just say that about Midoriya-kun!"

And so it escalates. Escalation can lead to plenty of things, and with Katsuki and Hitoshi in the equation, most of those would end in someone (or a bunch of them) getting a visit from Recovery Girl and maybe a slew of suspensions.

To reiterate, he just wants to eat lunch. He should be in the cafeteria by now.

Amid his classmates' defense of his honor, John picks up his things and moves to the door, indifferent to the many eyes darting at him and the confused, concerned calls from his classmates. The other students don't move out of the way. They gawk at him like he's a circus act or an escaped lab experiment full of diseases. Probably both.

"Excuse me," he says because his mother taught him to be polite, to hold himself with grace and dignity in the face of rudeness until he's left with no choice but to retaliate. (The Director, in a sense, taught the same lesson, except retaliation always came swift and sure after the first and only warning.)

"Ah, so the Quirkless one has finally come to—" The blond boy from a while ago tries to bring back the bravado, but John will not have it. Not today or tomorrow or any day of the week.

"Excuse me."

A twitch of an eyebrow. The blond boy still smiles, but there's a slight edge to it now.

"Well, aren't you rude for interrupting—"

"Could you move?"

The blond boy is not smiling anymore. John can see a vein on his forehead bulging and imagines steam coming out of his reddening ears. "Hey now, why don't you learn to be a bit more—"

"I need to get to lunch."

It's as the saying goes; the third time's the charm.

"Huh?!What's this?! Are you so bloated in the head for being in this class that you don't know what's going on here?!" Blondie points accusingly at him as though he's in some soap opera of the ages.

"Listen, you, I don't carehowyou managed to land a spot in 1-A, much less theHero course,but know this! The Sports Festival is an important event for all of us common folk, and it will determine who stays in this class and who gets to replace one of you arrogant chumps, so I'd be worried if I were you!"

This is familiar. John remembered doing his best to function as a normal child. Then came someone loud and obnoxious, repeatedly entering his space like a storm of fireworks, and never leaving him alone; treating him like a friend one moment and a piece of garbage the next, then afterward challenging him, pushing him to interact with the outside world, and taking nosedives into opportunities, making up for the childish cruelty he inflicted upon him in the little things.

And that someone is right behind John, glaring daggers at the other boy (he should probably get his name, only so he can avoid him in the future). If looks could kill, Katsuki would've been sent to prison.

Ah. So that's why he feels nostalgic. Well, at least John's had practice at this. Defuse and walk away until it's out of mind. Previous observation and practical knowledge proved that it worked 65% of the time.

"Sure," John replies with the feeble hope that it would be enough to stop Blondie from another soliloquy. Unfortunately, like in his past attempts, he is proven wrong.

Blondie, for whatever reason, strikes something of a threatening posture, but it only makes him look ridiculous. Kind of like one of those marble statues in museums that seem out of place with their melodramatic stances.

"Huh?! Is that all you have to say?! I got the impression you're probably not the sharpest knife in the drawer among these tools, but I never thought you'd be this imbecilic!"

So much for that plan.

Before Blondie can say anything more at the high risk of Katsuki jumping him, another student shoves her way through the crowd, unquestionably pissed. "Oi, Monoma!"

Bam.

"Ow!" Blondie — Monoma? — whines, rubbing his head as he glares petulantly at what John assumes is his classmate. "Kendou, what's the deal?!"

"You're being a huge jerk for no reason, that's the deal! What are you even trying to do?"

Okay, now is a good time to slip away while they're distracted.

"I'm trying to set this," Monoma jabs a finger in John's direction, "little slimeball straight since he obviously doesn't understand what's happening right now!"

Kendou huffs, "And what is happening, Monoma?"

Just as John is about to break free from the mess before him in complete silence, he hears, "A declaration of war!"

John pauses, distantly mindful of the cutting stares his way. All angry, guarded, begrudging, intrigued.

Declarations of war weren't new to him. They happened often and they happened loud,impossible to ignore when you knew what they entailed. They happened to powerful gangs over territorial disputes or internal issues that affected the status quo; influential figures over an ardent desire for more; and everyone and anyone who can accept the outcome of their lives.

(It happened to John when the life he fought and bled for got ripped from his hands. He might as well have declared war on the entire world.)

"Oi, what's this about a war, Present Mic wannabe?" Katsuki forces his way through to stand beside John, glowering at Monoma. His fingers are splayed out, tiny sparks popping, and his shoulders tense as if he's about to pounce, but he stays where he is. "If you wanna start something, then you better be ready to finish it."

There is always something about Katsuki that pulls everyone's attention to him like moths to a flame. Whether it's his bold personality or the mettle of his words, he had all eyes on him for a reason. (All eyes were on him, standing in every crosshair, mere quarry with a bounty paid by kings; no matter where he ran, eyes were everywhere.)

Monoma sputters momentarily until he regains himself. "Oh, Iwill,and you better be ready for when Class 1-B leaves all of you in the dust!"

("Dramatic much?" Hitoshi scoffs.)

"Monoma," Kendou tries to stop him, growing frustrated. "Cut it out already, this is getting stupid!"

He brushes her off, standing tall with his chest puffed out, and pins his sights on John again.

"You may be one of the hotshots now, but don't let it go to your head. Nobody is going to hold back just because you're Quirkless. And for the record, neither will I! So don't go crying once I come and take your spot fair and square! What do you have to say to that?!"

John commits Monoma's face to memory; the frustration in his eyes, the way he carries himself, the words meant to rile John up.

He has something to prove, and it's important enough that he'd goad and antagonize his future opponents like this. Whatever it is, John can't be bothered to deal with it. At least, only until the Sports Festival.

For now, he has an answer.

"I'll beat you. I'll beat you all."

Disinclined to hear what Monoma will say next, he walks away, turning a blind eye to the heavy scrutiny of powerful children.

~

"Did you hear what that guy said?"

"He'll beat us? With what Quirk?"

"He looked pretty scary when he said that, don't you think?"

"As if! Taking him out of the roster will be a piece of cake!"

"We should be more focused on the angry blondie. He looked ready to murder the other dude."

"Whatever, man, all that matters is we got a spot in 1-A for sure if we beat the Quirkless little twerp!"

"Should be easy enough."

It won't be easy, though. Nothing is ever easy. Taking down a powerful, powerless person like that, with eyes that hide so much yet so little and a body so attuned to battle? It would take a hundred miracles to see him fall.

But he's making an ocean out of a rain puddle. Midoriya Izuku is a normal boy with no abnormal powers; a mortal among giants.

(Yet it was never Goliath who came out victorious, was it?)

(What did it mean for him then? A soldier who only stood and watched from behind the frontlines?)

It doesn't matter. He has a mission to fulfill, and he can't fail this.

~

Lunch turns into the opposite of a quiet affair.

John gets bombarded by classmates like Uraraka, Iida, Yaoyorozu, and Kirishima about his bold statement while Katsuki, Hitoshi, and Kaminari grill him over saying something they deem as "cool". It's not lost on him that his table gets looks from other students, but no one approaches them to start trouble.

"I still can't believe you said that to that guy's face, that was so freakin' cool, dude," Kaminari says with a laugh. Then he dons a mock-serious expression, lowering his voice. "'I'll beat you. I'll beat you all.' Like dude, what the hell!"

"Almost like it came straight from a movie," Hitoshi adds as he steals a piece of food from Katsuki's tray. "It might've sounded cheesy if it came from anyone else, yet somehow, you made it work and even more intimidating. Good job, Mido."

Katsuki swats at Hitoshi but is too late to salvage his lunch. "Yeah, no sh*t. Deku doesn't even watch that many movies, he's just f*cking like that."

Kaminari nods. "Yeah, I can see it. Midoriya's got the Doberman vibes down pat!"

John lets the conversations flow over him as his mind wanders again to the Sports Festival. He remembers that, because he was the top scorer in the Entrance Exams, he was to make a speech for the event. He's never given one before, not of this variety. What can he even say? He could play it safe and take inspiration from online examples, or ask Katsuki or Hitoshi for help but he imagined the audience would expect a performance out of it; something grand and flashy to draw their attention.

He can't see himself doing that.

Most of his performances are behind the curtains and out of the spotlight, never seen if he could help it. To make a show of his speech for the Sports Festival would be the equivalent of earning the Director's love and affection — impossible and useless. At most, he'd probably sound like he was threatening to eviscerate the entire student population through sports. Or he'd make a fool of himself.

Unlike Katsuki, who is going all in for the event because of his ambition of being number one, and Hitoshi, who wants to prove that he isn't the villain everyone else from his past conceives him to be, John doesn't have the right motivation to justify his place in the Hero course, much less a Hero school.

He has nothing to gain nor anything to give in this tournament except his best efforts to honor what he promised.

I'll beat you all.

Can that be a reason? To honor something he avowed to an army of superhumans who wanted to "take him out"? He might have bitten off more than he could chew when he said it, but John will keep his word nonetheless. He managed to do it the first time, only in incredibly different circ*mstances.

At some point, the conversation shifts in a different direction, and Kaminari asks, "Oh hey, I've been meaning to ask, but why do you wanna be a Pro Hero, Midoriya?"

Right. He wondered how to answer that question if it ever came up.

On paper, it's a standard explanation that anybody would predict, and easily believe. To save people.It was a much better response than "because people told me I could" or"because I had no choice."That's generally what he put down in the written exams because it's a safer bet, but would it hold strong if John repeats it out loud?

"To save people," John ventures, and it sits awkwardly on his tongue like a lie when it shouldn't since that's what he's been doing for the past how-many-damn-years already.

(Except, on some level, he knows why. He's never quite wantedto save people the way these passionate teenagers do. It's not even a need, either. It's always been something he just does and he can't make full sense of it, even now.)

It satisfies Kaminari's curiosity anyway and everyone else pitches in. Some like Iida and Yaoyorozu wanted to be heroes because of their families. Others like Kaminari and Kirishima are in it out of altruism. For Uraraka, it's out of a desire to support her parents financially. All of them were good reasons, understandable ones, real ones, so John supposes it makes sense that his motive for being in the Hero course is flimsy at best, and downright fake at worst.

He won't stew on it today, he decides. Or tomorrow. Or next week.

He has lunch to finish. (And a legion of students shooting dirty looks at the back of his head like poisoned darts to ignore.)

~

"Why do you wanna be a Pro Hero, Midoriya?"

"To save people."

Shouto isn't friends with him, nor does he plan on forging a rapport (he imagines the two people who are stuck with him like barnacles would put on the hostile guard dog act if Shouto ever approached) but even he can tell that what Midoriya said isn't the complete truth. It's also not a complete lie either which doesn't make anysense. But that's a common thing with Midoriya, Shouto thinks.

Nothing about him makes sense.

Being a Pro Hero to save people is a given, the standard rule to follow. Money and fame came after. In Shouto's experience, being a Pro Hero doesn't mean jack sh*t if the title lets you ruin someone's life without consequence, making you think you're untouchable and forget that you were supposed to be a beacon of light rather than a destructive hellfire.

(It's no wonder people preferred All Might.)

Midoriya didn't sound like he believed his words, only saying them because it's what anyone else would expect, but...

Shouto mentally shakes his head before gathering his things and leaving the cafeteria, the noise of the other table fading behind him.

There will be a time to question Midoriya, at the Sports Festival.Endeavor will no doubt be watching the festival — watchingShoutolike a goddamn prison guard — so he can't get distracted.

He'll show that bastard he can surpass him without his fire, and he doesn't care if he has to (ruin his chances of making friends) take down his classmates to do it.

~

~

In the teacher's lounge, Aizawa Shouta and Yamada Hizashi feel a shudder up their spines, with the latter feeling a sense of foreboding. The former just feels an incoming headache which he suspects has something to do with his son and his (possible) friends. But it's probably the coffee.

(Spoiler alert: it's not the coffee.)