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It happened much like the man’s debut, Izuku thought in the back of his head. Granted, it wasn’t the site of a natural disaster that All Might had burst into. All Might wasn’t greeted with the cries of desperate citizens begging for hope and safety. No, instead he had burst into the metal coffin that Izuku had called his home for so long. Instead of injured citizens, there were things in cages along the walls, restrained and hooked up to various medical equipment, whose purpose Izuku could only guess at. He is also one of those things, restrained, in pain. Thing, not person. He wasn’t allowed to refer to himself as person.He doesn’t know why.
Because he doesn’t deserve to.
He cries in relief, because he’s prayed against all odds that someone would find them. As the minutes turned to hours to days to weeks to however long it’s been. He croaks in pain as he tries to cheer All Might on as the guards rush to the room and are subdued in quick succession, even the doctor.His father-
He can’t call him that, he isn’t his son.
-Midoriya Hisashi.
Stop stop stop stop stop.
The rest passes by in a blur, the klaxon and the fighting oddly muffled, his vision blurry even though he desperately wants to watch, to see everything leading to his freedom. To feel the cold metal removed from his throat and limbs. To see the sun, to feel the wind again. To see his home. To hug his mother and never let go.
He doesn’t deserve it. Only people do.
His vision clears and he realizes All Might is carrying him out and away from that room. Others are rushing in, heroes and police. He could care less about them though, because All Might is looking at him, his smile wide and calming. “Let’s get you home, Izuku.”And like that the tears come backs again. Because god how he’s wanted this for so long. Someone, anyone, to get him away from that place. And here the number one hero, All Might himself, is taking him back to his mom! To his home! It’s everything he’s wanted!
It won’t last, nothing good for him ever does.
Then there’s a pain at the back of his skull and everything gets fuzzy, and he starts to panic. Was he injured? Was that why All Might was carrying him? Then everything freezes. All Might, the heroes and officers, everything. Static fills his ears, at first a gentle buzz, then it becomes an all encompassing roar that threatens to split his head in half. That’s when Izuku’s world is torn asunder. “Oh, good, you’re not dead yet.”The familiar metal floors come into focus slowly, and it takes all of Izuku’s control not to be violently sick at he realizes what happened, or what didn’t. All Might hadn’t come to save him. Nobody had.
And nobody is going to.
He’s still here, in his cage, bound for life. “Come on Noumu, I’ve been forced to rush my schedule. Don’t throw any tantrums. I’m not in a forgiving mood today” his da- the doctor, bites out, the telltale flickers of embers wafting from his mouth. He lifts himself up, letting himself be roughly pulled by one of the orderlies in the room. How stupid was he? To believe he could ever escape here. He could never escape this, not when this prison seeped into his flesh and bones.There were no mirrors here, not after he had broken one in his original room-cell, and used the shards to try to just make them stop. So he hadn’t seen himself properly in so long. But when he was tied to that operating table, under the knife he could see himself. In the rare reflection of Hisashi’s glasses, he could see how he had changed. How his skin had gone pale in this prison. His hair uneven from when they had shaved it for some of the procedures that still rack his head with pain. But most importantly, the black not-flesh that extended from his spine, wrapping around his torso like false ribs.
Like fingers never letting go.
Tracing down his legs and arms.
To remind him that he is now an it.
To the black sclera of his eyes
To show everyone that he belongs here.
“-Yes, thank you. If you are in need of any further assistance do not hesitate to call.” Toshinori Yagi sighed dejectedly as he ended the call. He had been hoping that the small group that he had apprehended might have had valuable information regarding his real goal, despite Sir Nighteye’s doubts. There were a few electronics stashed away at the hideout, a tablet and laptop, that held promise. That hope was quickly squashed with the phone call he received from SIr Nighteye’s cryptographers who had been working with the police on this case. The information hidden on the devices did help the police uncover a drug trafficking ring. But nothing that could help him alleviate the pain of the person he was currently visiting.After getting a visitor pass from the receptionist, he went down the halls that he had come to know by heart. He pauses outside her door, looking over himself self consciously. He refrained from dressing in what became his “casual wear,” the overly baggy shirt and cargo pants selected to accommodate his public form unsuited for this kind of visit. Instead he had opted for a collared shirt and slacks more tailored to his current body. Though he can’t help but second guess his choice, or rather, Sir Nighteye's choice in the clothes. Was it too much? Did he come off as trying too hard? Walking in to visit someone should not be more nerve wracking than dealing with a villain in a hostage situation who literally has chainsaws for fingers.It had been the most awkward set of social hoops he had to jump through, trying to ask for advice on his clothing without giving a reason why. Though knowing his former sidekick, he probably had an inkling. Dear god, if he suspected, than Gran Torino almost certainly knew. He did not need either of the two jumping to conclusions and ruining-“Yagi?”Shit, he had been so wrapped up in his head he hadn’t even realized that the door had opened, with him standing there staring at the floor like a ditz. With a quick cough to hide his mortification at being caught unaware, he attempts to smile, the motion feeling odd on his gaunt face. The sly smile the nurse sends his way as she leaves tells him he failed in covering it up. “N-no need to be formal Ms. Midoriya. You can call me Toshinori.”“As soon as you start calling me Inko, Yagi.” He supposed that was fair, though he couldn’t help the embarrassed chuckle at her teasing smile. Midoriya Inko had withered in her time here at the hospital, her recovery a long and painful process. Granted she was nowhere near as emaciated as his form had now become, he couldn’t help the flare of anger that coursed through his gut at the cause of her pain. Midoriya Hisashi, her own husband. Her husband had hurt her, resulted in a shattered hip, several skull fractures, a broken left femur, and several 2nd and 3rd degree burns on her right shoulder and arm. Worst of all, he had taken away her son.Midoriya Izuku, a boy whom he knew only through photos and her stories. A boy who was born quirkless, a status that served as a heavy punishment in an increasingly quirk dominated world. Who, despite being told it was hopeless, desperately wanted to become a hero. Not for the fame or money like how he often heard children in parks proudly declare. The boy wanted to save people. He wanted to help those in fear or in trouble.It didn’t stop the bullying, it didn't stop the injuries. Inko knew, but the more she pried, the more he hid it from her. Toshinori could guess at the motivation, especially when taking into account how Inko herself had already felt the social effects of being a mother to a quirkless child. The boy had probably seen his silent suffering as a way to alleviate his mother’s worry.The destructive selflessness made him draw some worrying connections between the boy and his early years of his hero career. Which he supposed was fitting, as he had been the boy’s inspiration ever since he was young. How he wished he had stopped once in Musutafu, before this. Or even included it in his routine patrols. No, thinking of “what ifs” wouldn’t help Inko though. Especially not with where he was when her husband had snatched their son and ran off to hide who knows where. It had been shortly after his fateful fight with All for One. He had been incapacitated for several weeks after that and wouldn’t have been much help.Even after all these months he still marveled at the strength of this kind woman. From the police reports Naomasa had acquired for him of the incident, Hisashi had not acted alone in the abduction of Izuku. Three men, one with a notable scale skin mutation quirk. That hadn’t deterred the mother, and while she had been brutally beaten back in the fight, she had managed to scar her husbands face, and use her quirk to steal his phone at the last moment when they had tried to make their getaway as police sirens became known.The phone had proved invaluable, as the license plates of the getaway vehicle, even the vehicle itself had lead to dead ends. It was both helpful and damning. Hisashi Midoriya had been under All for One’s payroll. From what they had been able to rip from the phone, it wasn’t just another grunt position. Hisashi was deep in this if the financial records stored on the phone were anything to go by. While much of the information currently provided little aid in the ongoing investigation, it did make one thing glaringly known to Toshinori. All for One had a much more extensive underground network and a wider range of influence beyond what he hinted at.“You’re doing it again Yagi”“Doing uh-what?”“Trying to bear the weight of the world by yourself” She patted at the chair near her bedside. “I know you still have to maintain the appearance of number one, that doesn’t mean that you burden yourself with the weight of the world’s shortcomings.” Toshinori chuckled as he sat down, he’d been had.“So how has the physical therapy been going?” She slapped his arm halfheartedly.“No changing the subject Yagi!” She gave him a tired smile. “I know its hard, but please, think of yourself once in a while.”“I know, its just … I’m not quite used to not being enough to fix things” he admitted. I’m not enough to help you, he thought angrily. Here he was visiting a friend, something he has precious few that are still among the land of the living, and he couldn’t help her with her pain. He could punch through buildings, soar through the air with the force of his leaps and move almost faster than the eye could see. All that, yet he couldn’t reunite a broken family. Her hand that clasped his serves as a tether in the swirl of his negative thoughts.“Sometimes, we can’t fix everything.” Her smile is a sad one, one of both understanding and grief. “It happens. All that matters is how you continue from there.” Izuku wakes with a startling clarity that he’s walked into this room, but he wasn’t aware that he was walking. The notion alone is alarming. For while he has felt a unwilling passenger in his body during or after some of the procedures, he was at least aware in some way of what was being done to him. Right now there is an alarming blank, nothing, for the time between when he was strapped to the table and when he arrived here. He doesn’t have much time to dwell on it though as he realizes the he is not alone here.There is another one of them here. Unsightly and vaguely humanoid, gray skin and gangly limbs, spine extending beyond the skin of its back in a line of spines. Its face is dominated by the exposed brain, large fish-like eyes. It lacks a lower jaw bone, letting its tongue hang loosely from the gaping hole in its face. It dominates the rest of this empty room of two doors and one plane of glass high up on one of the walls.“Begin” a speaker in the ceiling barks, hissing static, and the thing explodes into motion, a warbling shriek filling the air. Adrenaline courses through Izuku, as he realizes with sick horror what exactly has begun. Another test. He remembered the first test when he tried to beg for them to make it stop, how no one had come as one of the Noumu almost ripped off his arms. He had learned quickly that these tests always result in only one of them leaving this room.He wills the black that lines his arms and legs to spread and viciously beats down the nausea that rises as a result. The black crawls forth, forming the pseudo gloves and boots he's become accustomed to. The thing reaches out with its hands splayed wide, flesh peeling at the tips of its fingers to make way for growing sharp claws of bone. So a mutation type quirk, weaponized bone structure. He hopes that's the extent of that ability, having an opponent that can mend or replace damaged bones would make things complicated. He ducks under the sloppy swipe of its claws, and delivers a quick jab to where its kidney should be.He isn’t sure if it -or even him- still has kidneys after everything the doctors have done to them. But it doesn’t have the protection a rib cage offers, so he hopes it gets the desired result. The thing jerks to the side and warbles in what Izuku assumes to be pain, before its chest starts to contort and squirm before its ribs explode out of it like some angry maw.Izuku jumps out of the way before it has the chance to rip him to shreds. Only to nearly be impaled by the tongue that he thought had been useless. Prehensile tongue, and judging by its pointed tip, either venom laced or capable of piercing through objects. Neither of those are an aspect of its quirk he wants to test. Unable to alter direction mid air yet, he luckily manages to snatch the tongue with a scant few centimeters to spare. This quirk would prove a problem, with both a close range and long range quirk. It has to go.With that, Izuku lands with the tongue still firmly in his grip, gross, and with both hands, pivots and tugs on the tongue hard. There’s a moment when it feels like there isn’t any give, then there’s a wet tearing sound accompanied by a hideous pained shriek. He tosses away the now loose, flapping tongue and swallows the bile rising in his throat. Don’t puke, don’t feel pity, you can’t afford to, not right now!It rushes at him, more erratic in what he can only assume may be pain or anger, brackish blood spilling from its throat. Dodging the first few swipes, he notes that while it can move or extend its bones, it cannot create new ones. Which is reassuring, he really doesn’t want to pick a fistfight with a possible bone porcupine. He braces himself as the creature tries to backhand him, and feels the force of the blow become a tangible thing, bubbling underneath the surface of his arms, looking for an outlet. He holds it in, letting it run through his arms but not escaping, saving it. Not. Yet.It turns on him, arms wide as if to hug him, ribs wide and gleaming and sharp like teeth. Now. Siphoning off just a bit of the tangible force to his legs he leaps up pulling the rest into his left fist, condensing it. Its eyes look up at him blankly, no awareness, no trace of what they were. Even then, Izuku couldn’t help but whisper.“Sorry”He shaped the force with in his arm, compressing and shaping it to a pinpoint. When his punch hit the things head, the force burst forth, reducing the head to a splatter along the wall behind it. The body flopped to the floor twitching, until it wouldn’t move anymore.He shuddered as the reality of his situation settled in again. The doors unlocked and opened as orderlies came to remove the corpse and take him to his cell. Where he belonged.He can’t keep this up. He can’t. Not when his conscience is stained with all of the things he’s had to do, the ones he’s had to kill to see another day. Not when the black second skin becomes harder and harder to force back.
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
Hisashi was angry. No, scratch that, he was livid. Nine months. Nine months since his work had come to a complete halt. It wasn’t an issue with the process of creating the Noumu, no. If the boss so desired he could triple their current production, with minor consequences. No, what is currently impeding his progress in his inability to replicate one of their best specimens. While All for One could draw from his seemingly endless supply of quirks for him and his team to fabricate a Noumu, the process pretty much lobotomized the subjects, to the point that even getting them to obey simple commands is a monumental breakthrough. Even that feat is hit and miss though. So lo and behold he and his staff had thought that they had finally struck gold with subject R4-881T. Midoriya Izuku, his previously useless son.He had come upon the idea after having no luck with developing responsive Noumu. His son was quirkless, whereas all previous subjects had a quirk of some sort, which was then compounded upon with whatever All for One selected. They had used this method to avoid exhausting All for One’s stored quirks. A quirkless subject though, now that was an avenue worth exploring. So Hisashi waited and observed, reintegrating himself back in his family. His observation and monitoring of Izuku was mistaken by his wife for paternal sentiments finally emerging, and perhaps guilt. Which suited him just fine. He helped oversee his nutrition, his exercise. The boy went along without question, desperate for attention. Though it was just his luck that All for One had to humor his enemy with a confrontation that he thought risky and unnecessary.Forced to go to ground, he was unwilling to let all the time he spent grooming the boy into his magnum opus go to waste. What followed should have been an easy getaway.His wife surprised him though with a fire he hadn’t seen since her high school years. He scratched at the scar that she had made, the downward crescent from the corner of his mouth turning it into a perpetual grimace. While not debilitating, the scar did agitate him when using his quirk. Such as now as he strained to reel in his temper lest he melt another computer console in his rage. Even when taking all of the factors of R4-881T’s success, replicating them always resulted in failure. Every specimen was a blunt instrument at best, while R4-881T was aware. The subject is capable of thinking critically, deducing whatever quirks All for One bestowed upon them, and then systematically takes steps to render any threat gone. There is still the issue of its morals however. He can’t help but chuckle at the thought, a Noumu with morals. The sooner the Noumu discards the memories of Midoriya, the better. Because that's all they are, memories, because his worthless son can’t still be there. Better men and women than that child have broken under his scalpel, nothing but flesh for him to mold like clay. To even imply that he couldn’t do the same to his own blood is somewhat insulting. All for One coddling the creature by playing along, referring to R4-881T as a “he” rather than an “it.”“Young Izuku has been progressing well, wouldn’t you agree?” Speak of the devil and he shall appear. Hisashi takes a shuddering breath, trying to reign in his fire before addressing his boss. He would not be cowed, he would not. “R4-881T” He takes care to stress the moniker slightly, “has shown growth in their combat prowess and quirk utilization. However, it continues to pursue this identity, that is making it difficult to maintain control of it.” All for One’s masked visage gives nothing, and the silence weighs heavy in the room.“He seems to have gotten creative with the ‘Retaliate’ quirk” All for One walks over to the one-way glass currently overlooking the test room, where orderlies are currently in the process of wiping blood and gray matter off of the wall. The meaning is clear. I understand your concerns, but they don’t bother me. Hisashi sighs and moves over to join him, despite knowing that All for One isn’t really interested in observing the clean up process. The man can’t see after all. “The original holder was under the notion that Retaliate could only be used at the point of impact, and acted accordingly. Needless to say they had developed it into a rather odd, if ultimately useless, fighting style. Yet young Izuku has shown that it is possible to redirect that force into other limbs.”“...Yes, that was unexpected.” Hisashi admits, glancing at his boss expectantly. The man wants to drive in a point, and in his current mood Hisashi has no patience for the man’s theatrics. “Have any of the other Noumu exhibited Quirk usage that the originals had not?” Hisashi starts at that. Its a question but its not, because he knows the answer, both of them do.“...No...” At that admission, All for One turns to him. Just like that the atmosphere changes in the room, the air becoming so much colder and heavier in the room, so much so that Hisashi wonders if its a minor quirk at play. The thought does little to reduce the effect.“Has it not occurred to you that individuality, while posing problems with obedience, encourages creativity? A creativity that would flourish with the resources we have given him?” Again, another not question.“N-no sir.” Internally Hisashi berates himself for letting the stutter loose. All for One seems to loom over him even more.“Than perhaps take it in mind that if I do not say it is an issue, it is not, an issue. Izuku has shown remarkable growth. While true, his behavior will need adjusting in time, your primary concern should be why you can’t make him again. I am a patient man, I’ve had to be to stand where I am today. Even my patience though, good doctor, has limits. I’ve invested quite a substantial amount of resources into you and your team, and while you have helped pave the way in Noumu production, you are not my only team on the project. So convince me that your son’s outcome was not just a happy accident.” Like a flip of a switch, the pressure is gone, and Hisashi can breathe again. “Prepare the boy for Quirk removal. Subject L1-Z44R would benefit far more from Retaliate. I have recently come into an acquisition that would suit the young boy perfectly”“At once sir.” Bakugou Mitsuki smiled to herself as she saw a rather familiar gaunt blond man exiting from the hospital. A something Yagi, from what she could remember. Worked for the hero firm All Might founded, one of the few who had not quite given up on her friend’s case. His appearance at the hospital was almost routine at this point.Her thoughts took a rather downward turn at her best friend’s plight. Midoriya Inko had always been a different sort of strong, different from her. Whereas Mitsuki’s strength was that of a flash fire, flaring with her anger and fear much like her son’s quirk, Inko’s was that quiet strength that wore down mountains to dust. Never would she snap in cruelty, or anger, but god help you when you threaten what she loves.As they grew up, so many had made the false assumptions on who would be easier to push around. How wrong they were. She remembered how the staff here had to struggle to stop Inko from rushing out and hurting that man who took her son, despite the pain she was in.Hisashi had always been an odd fellow. Nothing unsettling or creepy about the man, he was decidedly average. Mitsuki just got the feeling that there was something more that they weren’t getting. Oh how she wished that she had seen it earlier on. Maybe she could have seen how her son never talked about Izuku anymore. How the little boy always flinched whenever her son walked near him when they came for dinner.Maybe then she could have done something to make sure the two didn’t feel so alone. So that they wouldn’t have felt relief at the company of that viper. Well, she would just have to start now. She gave the door frame a knock to announce her presence, careful with the Tupperware of food she brought from home. Hospital food, while food, was nothing appetizing. Inko started at the noise, a bit preoccupied looking at a vase of flowers resting on the nightstand.Huh, those were new.Mitsuki smiled.“Glad to see I didn’t interrupt your date with your prince charming. How are you Inko-chan?” The woman turned a delightful shade of red.“D-date? No! It wasn’t anything like that! Yagi-san just stopped by to see how my recovery was going!” Inko blustered. Despite Mitsuki’s misgivings on her friend getting back into romance so soon after that man, she was at least glad the this Mr. Yagi seemed to be bringing back some semblance of her old friend.“Ya didn’t deny the prince charming part, so that's interesting. Also those flowers are rather new. I sense a connection~!” Mitsuki teased and couldn’t help but laugh. The poor girl looked like a strawberry with her red face and green hair.“It’s….not like...that.”“You are far to easy to read sometimes Inko.” She sets herself down at one of the chairs by the bedside, leaving the Tupperware and silverware on the nightstand next to the flowers. “How are you doing? Restless? In any pain?”“I’m doing better. The hip surgery went well and the doctors have me going through physical therapy, muscle atrophy is nothing to laugh at.” Mitsuki grinned at that. It was so...jarring to see her friend confined to this sterile room, the only color in it being her and the flowers. To know that she would soon be out of the place was comforting.Now onto the hard part.“Have you put any thought into...when you’re discharged?” Since the incident, the Midoriya’s apartment had been thoroughly swept over by the police trying to find any other incriminating evidence of Hisashi’s ties to the criminal underbelly. They’ve had no luck though, the bastard had been thorough in covering his tracks. The apartment’s lease was originally under Inko’s name, seeing as how she had been on her own for a while before the two married. “The old landlord’s been nice, saying you don’t have to worry about rent payments till you actually get back, but...” the image of her old friend going back to an empty home with the reminders of her husband’s betrayal and her lost son is too sad. “My husband agreed, and it would be no trouble if you stayed with us for a bit. You know, to help you get your bearings back” and not be alone was left unspoken. “Mitsuki-chan, I couldn’t use you like-” “But you wouldn’t.” “-Mitsuki, you have your family to care about, I couldn’t intrude on tha-” “Friends help each other out when in tough spots-”“-I really couldn’t-”“ I know that you’ve always been a stickler about asking for help-” something little Izuku inherited she thought bitterly “-but please, at least consider it? You wouldn’t be a burden, and I’m trying to make up for it. I wasn’t there as much as I should be for you, and we’re friends! Or we’re supposed to be! I didn’t make those damn hags shut up about your son, talking as if he was some god damn circus show. I didn’t knock some sense into my son. I didn’t support you, so please, just-”“Mitsuki-chan, please don’t cry.” Mitsuki didn’t know when she had been tearing up. Everyone thought Inko had been the worst crier of the two, since the girl had been liable to cry rivers at stressful or sad moments. Reality was, the Bakugous were just as bad, in a different way. They were all ugly criers. Mitsuki was one, her husband was one, even her little twerp was one no matter how much he denied it. Mitsuki had gotten used to falling back on her anger to cover it up or repress it, but every blue moon they would run rampant and make her a sobbing mess, like right now. Inko looked liable to tear up any moment now too. “We are friends Mitsuki-chan. Always have been.”“But-”“I won’t say that I’m not mad. That I’m okay with what my son had to go through, with how Katsuki-kun behaved. That I didn’t feel alone when I really needed someone to stand with me. It would have hurt so much more if you didn’t try to make amends, but you have, and you’re still trying. Besides, friends forgive each other when they apologize, right?”Goddammit this isn’t fair Mitsuki thought angrily as she hugged her old friend, most likely making a mess on her shoulder. She shouldn’t be forgiven so easily for her shortcomings. She was a shit friend. That was a fact. But dammit she was going to hold on to this friendship that she’s cherished. She was going to do better. She was working on her son, he was getting better, slowly, but he was going to apologize for getting an oversized ego and being an asshole.And next time I see that damn viper, she thought viciously, hugging her friend all the more.
He is going to pay!
Izuku wakes up to someone opening the door to his cell, and scrambles at attention. No aggressive stances to warrant intimidation or violence. Seating himself at the far corner opposite the door, leaving few avenues to be approached by. He waited as the door creaked open slightly to allow whoever was behind to peer through, before the door opened wide. An orderly approached, not fathe-doctor, nor his two assistants. Strange, usually one of them was there to either run a check up or lead him to a testing area. Why did they need to-“Eat. They’ll come by later to pick you up. Its an addition today.” The orderly stated before locking the door shut.
An addition.
The thought left him cold, the meal on the tray suddenly loosing any trace of looking appetizing. Each addition was painful, but worse.Each addition made it harder to remember.He remembers with startling clarity how after the first addition, the names of his classmates seemed to blur and mesh, until some disappeared altogether from his mind. Then with each addition, more was lost, no matter how hard he tried to hold on to those memories. It was like trying to hold back a river with just his hands.He briefly entertained the thought of not eating, of forcing himself to be sick in hopes of delaying the addition. He quickly tossed out that idea. It hadn’t worked the first time, they had forced him to go through it regardless, and the experience coupled with a raw throat from stomach acid and lingering queasiness made the experience all the more harrowing.Nothing would make them stop the procedure short of him bleeding out on the floor, and ever since the mirror incident, anything that could have been remotely weaponized was removed. There wasn’t a lapse in detail he could utilize. Even his food was taken into consideration. Paper cup for water, compost-able tray with what he had taken to calling food blocks. Nutrient blocks would probably be a more apt name for them though, as they tasted of nothing really. Though they did the job, he can’t help but wonder what else was in them. It clearly wasn’t just the daily nutrients he needed to survive, seeing his height gain. He’d always been on the shorter side, Kaachan gaining a couple centimeters on him in after their 6 th birthday. Now though, even though he didn’t even have a ruler to measure his height, he could judge by how he could now look down on the doorknob rather than level with it that he had grown quite a bit.
Or maybe he had just been stuck in here longer than he wanted to admit.
The food is gone, but like every time he’s left not quite feeling full. He squishes back down the want. They won’t listen to him.
He hasn’t earned the right to requests.
They didn’t say when they would come to get him, but they never had. The absence of a window or clock made it hard to gauge if the time they took to come get him varied.So he sat, waited, and tried to remember…
“Hello little Izuku.”
He tries to repress the shudders at the sound of that voice. To move is pain, as he can feel the metal hands opening his back.
Becoming unwound.
He’s held aloft, to allow them more ease in the operation he idly thinks. Despite being eye level with the man, or at least with what he assumes at eye level, he can’t help but feel incredibly small. The room is bathed in light with the overhead lights. Despite that though the man seems to ward off the light, as if he had emerged from a pool of ink.
Everything about him was ringing alarm bells in his head, worse than one of those men who worked for his da-
doctor.
The one whose smiles made his skin crawl. The one who made the other test subjects-
victims
-whimper and cry and scream. It wasn’t because of the operations, it wasn’t it wasn’t it wasn’t it wasn’t it wasn’t and it made him sick and scared.
Every hair stood up in the presence of this man as his senses screamed wrong wrong wrong wrong WRONG. They told him to get away, run from this man, but he couldn’t get away. He’s tried to get away from here, if he couldn’t escape from this place, how could he escape him?
A small, traitorous part of his mind preened at being referred to by name. Its been so long since anyone referred to him as anything but “Subject.” He tries to ignore it because the man is staring at him, almost expectantly. Did he do something wrong? Did he perform poorly during that last test? Were they mad that he called the doctor father?
Did he want him to respond? No, he couldn’t possibly? None of the others wanted anything of him other than his actions and results. Though something tells him this man is different from the rest. That if he doesn’t find the right answer its going to hurt so much more.
Unknown, dangerous.
“H-h-hello Mister...” he warbles, his voice scratchy and uncertain from disuse from so long. He unconsciously tenses, waiting to be reprimanded, waiting for the retort that results in nothing but static and pain pain pain-
“Polite too, my what a nice find you are. No need to be so formal, you can call me Sensei though” the man chuckles. Izuku starts, thankful and confused. Thankful, because what he did was the right answer, confused, because unlike the others, this one wanted him to talk. “You’re very lucky, do you know why little Izuku?”
His head screams that the man, Sensei, is wrong. That he’s not lucky, that he was born unlucky. That he’s brought nothing but pain to his mother and to himself ever since he breathed his first breath. But he keeps it locked inside, for while this man wants him to speak, to call him wrong would overstep the invisible boundaries that are lined with barbed wire and trip lines. “N-no… S-Sensei, why?” he settles on instead, desperate to maintain this temporary peace and not bleed.
“Because dear little Izuku” the man walks forward with his hand outstretched, fingers going black and clawed, extending and angling out with far too many joints that a hand has any right to have. “You get the rare chance to become something more.” Everything in him was telling him move, run, but all he could do was stare as the fingers, quick like snakes dart around his head and dig into the flesh, to wrap around his spine.
There’s a horrifying, ear splitting sound that's filling the room and it takes a moment for Izuku to realize.
It was him.
S c r e a m i n g.
“Hey kid, chin up, we’ll get out of here, just you see!” The stranger is hopelessly naive. Why shouldn’t he though, he’s probably only been here for a few days at most. Izuku scratches at the black that has crawled from his spine down his arms and legs. “A pro hero will come, like Best Jeanist, or hell, even All Might! They’ll bust us all out and then you’ll get to see your folks again!”
Izuku wants to scream at the stranger, to make him stop talking, because that won’t happen. No one’s coming to save them, no one has for him, why does this stranger who-
Hasn’t suffered like he has, hasn’t bled.
-has only been here for a little while get to be so bright?
He was once bright, now the flame is dying and he doesn’t know how to make it stop.
He doesn’t say those things, because he shouldn’t be that selfish. “My dad put me here” he settles on, trying to convey everything of his circumstances in so few words. He could see the stranger from his glass wall deflate in horror, pity, and-
Don’t look at me don’t look at me don’t look at me stop it stop it stop itstopitstopitSTOP.
He curls into himself even more, drowning out the strangers voice.
It won’t matter.
A speaker blares and the strangers collar shocks them as the orderlies come in to drag them. They try struggling briefly, until the collar ups the charge and the person thrashes before going limp. Izuku lets himself go to sleep as their steps fade away into the hallway.
When Izuku wakes next the stranger is shaking and slightly subdued in their cell. He idly notes the new sutures and scars in the man's flimsy medical gown.
“Don’t worry kid, t-they’ll find us soon. T-They gotta! Soon, yeah, s-soon...” the man almost chants to himself as he paces, holding himself as if trying to grasp onto any source of comfort. For a brief moment Izuku wants to comfort the poor man, despite being able to do nothing.
“Its okay” The man whips around to stare at him “you’ll forget. Its okay though...we’ll all start to forget.” He can’t help but feel angry at himself, because judging by the despair and growing horror on the man’s face he’s said the wrong thing. He curls into himself once more to sleep, before they bring the stranger, or him, back in for their tests.
When he wakes next, there is only a weird keening sound echoing in the hall. In the cell is the stranger, but not. Wide eyes, a head with an exposed frontal lobe, and a wide shark like mouth greet him as the hulking gray figure paws at the glass wall before pacing its cell, wailing.
Izuku can’t help the sad smile stretching across his face.
It won’t matter.
He starts out of his remembering, as the door opens and his fathe-doctor comes in flanked by two orderlies.“Come on Noumu, behave and this will be over shortly.” Izuku rises and allows them to clamp on the restraints as they lead him out into the hall. Beyond the noise canceling walls of his cell, he is bombarded by the wails and shrieks of other things in their cell. He is soon led to that room, suspended and bound and unraveled once more, idle blood drops dripping from his sides.Then come the tell tale sounds of shoes clacking. Dress shoes, unlike those of the orderlies or the rest of the staff. For a brief moment he has the absurd thought that if he closes his eyes and never opens them again all of this will stop, but it won’t. So when the footsteps stop, he opens his eyes and sees the man who seems to swallow the light in his wake.“Hello little Izuku.”
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
Izuku felt as if his skull had been ripped into two halves that were then ground together until nothing but dust remained. He hadn’t even opened his eyes but something was telling him he’d want to hold off on that. Which was fine, the rest of his body felt terrible much like his head. He waited for the ringing to stop, for everything to stop being tilted. It felt like it took longer than usual. Which was bad. Unless the intensity of his discomfort was creating the illusion of more time being passed. What he would give for a watch to test that theory. He shifted to get himself off of the cot and-
Course fibers woven in countless patterns scratching at his skin, peeling it off flake by flake.
-froze, immediately as the rush of sensory information made his head ring again. This was new, and it was scary. While some of the tests fathe-doctor performed on him had him weather weird side effects until they wore off, none of them had made him quite like...that…
Like every single cell and particle had a presence and there was too much too much too much!
Why was this happening? Then the recollection slammed into him with the full force of a speeding truck.They gave him an addition.
They tell him they we’re giving him something more but its always lies because they take away so much more.
He forces back the panic and bile rising up his throat and forces himself to still. Breath, dammit, breath! He could hear his own heartbeat thunder in his ears oddly. He would worry about that later and tried to focus. He drudged through his mind, desperately pouring over details and names and people, trying desperately to remember.
To see what had been stolen from him.
Sir Nighteye ended the call after one of his employees had informed him that yes, Toshinori Yagi had once again visited Musutafu General Hospital. Dressed in the outfit that Nighteye himself had recommended. If Toshinori had a doctor that he’d see in Musutafu, Nighteye would have been worrying about his mentor developing nightingale syndrome. However, that wasn’t the case. Toshinori’s injury had been handled by Recovery Girl and her staff exclusively, she was Toshinori’s only doctor due to the sensitive nature of his condition.He was missing something, and while Gran Torino would call him a mother hen, he couldn’t leave this question unanswered concerning his mentor. Nighteye sent in the request to the hospital for the patient registry, to see if one of the appointments was filed under the name Toshinori Yagi, or one of his other aliases Nighteye helped him craft over their years together. As he waited he busied himself with sorting through the copy of the files and emails that his cryptographers had managed to squeeze out of the recovered devices from the previous crime bust. The drug trafficking ring was extensive, expanding across seven prefectures. While that could be handled by All Might, it was best to leave it to local police and hero agencies suited for the task. Though in this case, underground heroes were probably a good first step. Hero agencies tended to run the risk of alerting criminal cells to their intentions way before any action may be taken due to the more people in the loop, thus increasing the risk of an information leak.Only after compiling and sending the information to the appropriate channels to Chiba and Saitama prefecture was he rewarded with a response from the hospital. The patient registry was given, though only last names of patients and doctors, nothing more nothing less. Which suited Nighteye just fine. After skimming through the names and finding that no, Toshinori did not schedule himself for an appointment, Nighteye’s curiosity only grew. If not as a patient than perhaps as a visitor? Though that didn’t make sense, the man had no living relatives. Toshinori’s mentor had been the sole parental figure in the man’s life, a fact that made her loss all the more significant to his development. Throwing another cursory glance through the patients, Nighteye could confirm that not even the scant few colleagues he had were in the hospital. This was certainly perplexing.His request for the list of visitors was also accepted, and he wasted no time in scouring over them to find any leads. Turns out he didn’t need to search long. Toshinori had gone under his given name. He would have to have a discussion with the stubborn man about his aliases. Why hadn’t he used one that they had established for Musutafu!?There would be time for that later, he supposed. Now as to who he was visiting, an Inko...Midoriya? The mother that pretty much helped confirm his suspicion that in the best case scenario, All for One had members who were trying to maintain whatever influence the vile villain had created in Japan’s underworld? Had Toshinori found out something more from the ex-wife of that villain’s subordinate? That didn’t seem likely though, or else he would have divulged as much to Nighteye. For all the strengths of the symbol of peace, deceitful was something All Might could never be. Perhaps he still felt guilty over the trail for her son going cold? That seemed much more likely, the son’s apparent idolization of him, and the boy’s quirkless status, must have made it more difficult for Toshinori to maintain a distanced professional stance on the case.Though that still did not explain why the man had visited the woman for the months following their initial interview with the woman. There wasn’t a pattern, but he had been visiting her once every other week. There were certain days when Nighteye had been unable to call and get a response, unless it was an emergency in which case Toshinori had always made sure to respond. The former sidekick had hoped that it was the start of Toshinori acknowledging his limits and starting to take care of himself. While visiting a bedridden grieving mother is hardly as physically demanding as his hero outings, Nighteye can’t help the uneasiness of not knowing what the visits were for.This warrants further investigation. “T-the doctor said I’m quirkless Ka-” There's static and emptiness where there should be recollection and familiarity and its wrong. The boy stares at him in confusion and … betrayal? he’s not quite sure. Seconds pass until the boy’s face settles on one emotion. Anger.“What do you mean quirkless!? We were supposed to be a team!” He shouts, shoving Izuku like he’s made the choice to be different. To feel empty. “W-we could s-still be-” he tries to reassure the boy, desperate to hold onto this feeling of friendshi-
Camaraderie?
Closeness?
“What? A quirkless little bug like you with me!? Didn’t you hear all the grown ups? My quirk means I’m gonna be great! How can you be great without even a quirk!” The boy snears. “Besides, who ever heard of a quirkless hero?”“I-I-I can try!” Izuku cries, tears leaving fat trails down his cheeks. “Try? How can a crybaby like you ever hope to be a hero without a quirk!?” the boy scoffs. “Look at you!”“I-I...” Izuku wants to cry out that he can, he just needs a chance! “Wow, you’re really useless huh? Can’t even stand up for yourself?” Izuku flinches as if struck, the words digging in his heart, ripping apart the hastily applied bandages and making it bleed. He doesn’t know what he wanted when he told this frie-
Cousin?
Neighbor?
-boy. Perhaps reassurance? Loyalty? False hope at the least. Not this, not proclaiming all his fears and doubts of himself into the air, making them all the more real, digging deeper into his skin, worming its way far deeper than the black on his spine ever could. The other children, faces blurry, blank, judging-
Forgotten.
-close in on him, smiles gaining a knife edge in their cruelty as the boy proclaims to the whole group Izuku’s diagnosis.
His worth.
He could almost see the strings that connected him to this frie-
person
-begin to fray, and despite their very form distorting and blurring, despite the cruel words and names that are lost but are still felt, he wants to hold on.
“Izuku doesn’t really fit a quirkless person like you, does it? Oh! I know, Dek-”And just like that, the scene is lost. Dust. Blown away by a storm of nothing, of static, of loneliness. Leaving him grasping at sand that flows between his fingers as he desperately tries to salvage the lost memory. Because anything, even the remembrance of pain, is better than this void left in the wake of a lost memory.
No, his mind rages furiously. Not lost.
S T O L E N
Izuku wakes to the sound of footsteps of three people causing vibrations to ring through the metal of his cot. He’s managed to dial back the sensitivity of the new quirk they had given him so as to not go into shock from sensory overload. Just the act of his shirt shifting across his shoulders had sent his nerves on fire as he felt the outermost layers of his skin flaking off individually.Granted that had been nowhere as frightening as finding out that his ears were gone. Correction, his ears had changed. Had had almost gone violently sick at feeling the sides of his head to feel smooth ridges where his ears used to be.
The same texture as the black on his spine.
He had been nearly unable to breathe as he tried to force back the black, and found that he couldn’t. He knew this would happen, when some of the changes they made to him could not be pushed back, held under lock and key. He just didn’t want it to happen so soon. Then he felt it, a twitch near the top of his head as he heard a bug skitter on the wall of his cell. Slowly tracing the ridges he found they extended up, and felt what were...antennas? No, ears, rabbit ears, or some form of those belonging to the Lagomorpha family. The same texture as the black second skin.It should be troubling how easy it is for him to work past the horror and worry as he experiments the capabilities of this new found quirk. It was moments like these were his fingers ached to hold a pencil in them, the absence of his notebooks sorely missed as he was forced to internalize any observations he made. He had control of the ears, and at one point embarrassingly thwacked himself in the face as he was testing exactly how to move the new appendages. They also had a slight size control, nothing too grand as receding completely, but he was able to control them to a manageable size where he could have them flush against his head and out of the way. It took some getting used to, since even when pressed against his head the tips of them tended to tickle against the back of his neck.Same as before, before the footsteps have so much as gotten near his door, he’s settled himself in the same corner, waiting for them to arrive. The door opens and there is his fathe-
Doctor
-And orderlies, and the man whose smiles make his skin crawl.“R4-881T, awake, good. Come on now, don’t cause a fuss.” The man who smiles looks like he’s waiting for Izuku to disobey fathe-doctor, waiting for a moment to be given leeway. Izuku doesn’t, he’s seen what the man has done to other subjects-
victims
-and silently offers his arms for the quirk suppressant cuffs as hes led along. Its odd, the feeling of his hyper awareness being muffled, of returning to what had once been his normal. At least this way the odd scream and moan from the other holding cells doesn’t make his head feel like its ringing.He’s lead down a series of twisting narrow hallways, and he breathes a sigh of relief when he recognizes the path. He’s not going to be brought in for another combat test. Which makes sense, seeing as how so far the limits of this new quirk were sensory. Sure enough he’s brought to one of the AQT rooms, or at least thats what he recalls one of the orderlies referring to them as. This room seems a bit more expansive than the other ones. Though if they’re going to be testing out this quirk he supposes that must make sense.The orderlies lead him to one end of the room, where the floor changes coloration to make a yellow circle, the proceed to remove the quirk suppressant cuffs and in its place a heavy all too familiar metal collar. It’s like someone had flicked the volume control just a tad bit too high, too quickly, with how his ears begin to ring with their footsteps. They left him alone in the room, probably joining where the rest of them were waiting, to observe.
To dissect.
“R4-881T, today we shall be observing your usage of the ‘Lepus Sense’ quirk. Complete the next trial using only that quirk. Reach the other circle at the end of the room. Usage of any other quirks is prohibited. Failure to comply will result in disciplinary action” the speakers bark. The room’s surface ripples and segments, and sure enough the only space untouched is the yellow circle he is standing on. He hears the thunder and creaks of machinery descending all around him, but nothing is changing. Then he realizes that the sound is descending below him. He can’t see through the gaps of the grid pattern floor, but he can almost guarantee that either some squares are booby trapped, or are pit falls with who knows what waiting down below for him.Now that he looks around, he can see another circle at the opposite end of the room, same yellow as this one. Ignoring the itch and thrumming from inside the metal collar he focuses on ‘Lepus Sense,’ the new quirk he finally has a name for. He feels the ears slightly extend, and he sweeps around the edges of the circle, straining his new heightened senses to see if he could hear anything that might give him an inkling. His heart sank as there was nothing. Which meant that the traps were dormant until triggered, with few moving parts, if at all.He doesn’t know what the traps could entail, and he can’t even bring forth the black second skin to act as a security blanket. He’ll have to hope that he’s lucky.
He’s never been lucky
The first square yields no reaction to his relief. The second one...not so much. As soon as he puts his weight on his next step, the square falls out from underneath him, sending him falling face first into the next square which luckily, does not fall. He scrambles to lift himself up before he slips and whatever trap they have down there activates. But as he listens, there’s nothing but the clang of the square panel hitting the bottom of what he hopes is the floor--Wait. The echo is weird. Its shifting and snaking around him. He gently tests another of the squares with his hand, and it falls like the one before. Though this time he’s waiting, listening.There! The sounds echo with such clarity now that he’s focused on them that its like they’re almost tangible, the reverberations across empty space only to bounce off of pillars and fade. He maps it to the surface he’s on, and he can see the danger now. There are still chances for error, especially where there are clusters of more solid pillars. Any one of the inner ones can hide a pit. He’ll have to trust it though.He bounds off for the end goal, cautiously but not slowly. The last time they thought that he had been lazy was … not pleasant. He’s straining his ears, having to differentiate the sounds he creates from everything else. For a while it goes well, and he covers a few dozen meters before he hears a hiss and what sounds very much like a cocking mechanism and-
Duck, NOW
-nearly gets a metal bolt in the head had he not dropped to the floor. The bolt shatters into metal fragments against the opposite wall, some of the fragments clattering close enough for Izuku to see that the edges are VERY sharp. As if the fact that he now has to watch out for a second set of obstacles is not enough, the walls start to shift. He sees horizontal lines form along the walls and then they’re twisting clockwise and counter clockwise every other row. They start slow and begin to accelerate as more time passes and-SHIT-it seems like now he doesn’t have the luxury of caution as the bolts are being fired indiscriminately with no pattern so far as he can tell. His senses are working in overdrive with the adrenaline and its all he can do to not be sick from the information overload of all the sounds in the room. He has a few near misses as he makes his way to the end, growing used to reacting at a moment’s notice at the familiar noise when there’s a sound of a metal slide moving-
Something is wrong
-there’s a loud echoing bang, and he nearly slips onto one of the pit fall traps as his right leg flashes in pain and causes him to buckle. It was a bullet.They used a gun. He can’t dodge bullets.He can’t.He manages to hold back his panic of dying as he examines his leg, and breathes a sigh in relief as the bullet appears to just have grazed him. He can already feel the second skin creeping up on the wound and-
Pain pain pain pain PAIN!
-the collar activates, making him writhe in convulsions and scream as it feels like lightning has dug underneath his skin and raged through his nervous system. For what seems like forever, but most likely only a moment, Izuku can’t even think. He can’t hear, he can’t see, all he can do is feel.Then it stops. He gasps in shuddering breaths and can only thank whatever measly luck he has that they decided to turn off the traps for that horrible moment.“Little Izuku, were the instructions not clear?”Just like that it feels like his veins have been filled with ice, and his stomach twists in nausea. Fathe-doctor does not call him by his name anymore, let alone little. Only one person in this place has called him that. Sensei, the man in black.
The one who steals from his mind
Izuku’s brain is in overdrive, he’s never been here during tests. The man only comes whenever he wants to take and give to Izuku. Why would he-“Even an unconscious use of quirks other than Lepus sense are not allowed. That was a warning. You’d best convince me that that’s the only time I’d need to use the collar, for your sake child.” Once again the walls have begun to spin and the bolts are being fired, slowly picking up speed. Whatever reason Sensei had for observing this test will have to wait, Izuku doesn’t have the time to think about it. He’s dodging the bolts, at the same time straining his senses for any warning of the bullet traps, when there it was again! Izuku throws himself to the floor and gets a bolt to his left forearm for his trouble. Good news is he wasn’t shot by a gun again. If he sticks to this method though he’s not gonna make it to the end in one piece. There has to be a pattern, there almost always is. Some safe spot, some way that he could- All for One could care less for the fuming glare Hisashi is sending him as he imposes his will in these tests. While the man may be slightly brilliant, and great at bringing others under his direction, if he continues to try to butt heads with him over who commands whom … well, he’ll have a more permanent solution for the man. After all, the man had only one real notable achievement under his belt, being his son. A cognizant Noumu that had not broken during the Quirk addition procedure, individuality and critical thinking all intact. It was a delight. Yet the inept father couldn’t even replicate the boy’s results in others, nor explain why.The man was testy about it, judging from how the man was prone to spit embers whenever asked about any progress. He also thought that he was sneaky. As if All for One didn’t know that some of Hisashi’s personnel were ‘acquiring’ more subjects and as a result producing more irritation for him with local authorities. The man had his uses though, for now.“-Using live rounds at this early stage of testing Lepus Sense is only detrimental to observing R4-881T’s full range of it! Introducing too many variables will only hinder our efforts in data collection!” All for One decides to humor the man.“I could care less for the full extent of Lepus Sense. While it is a useful reconnaissance quirk to have, that is hardly the only reason we’re molding little Izuku is it?” Its almost laughable how the man seems to grimace at All for One’s use of his son’s name. “You’ve been focusing on the more innately destructive quirk recipients, and what they can do. While that is good, as it furthers my goal for giving my student the tools he needs to succeed me, I am more concerned with how your dear son can accomplish what he does.” Raw power is useful, but cleverness, cleverness is a jewel to be coveted. After all, All for One would not be where he was today if he had followed the mentality the raw power is everything, like so many of those mindless brutes that emerged in the advent of quirks.He let the man stew over that as he went back to the window and used his heat sense quirk. While not quite making up for the loss of his eyesight since that fateful fight with the buffoon of the eighth holder, they did serve to help outline the room that Izuku was in and the boy himself. The boy was cautiously looking around flinching and jerking in reaction to the bolts and bullets most likely. How would the boy--oh, oh. All for One could feel the grin creeping across his face. Clever indeed. Izuku really wanted to slap himself for not realizing this sooner. The instructions were reach the other circle using only Lepus Sense. They did not tell him how to reach said circle. With bullets and bolts being flung every which way he wasn’t going to chance it anymore without being able to use his more defensive quirks. So remembering the mental map of the pitfalls, he pressed down on one of the false floor tiles and dove under, bracing his hands and feet against the two parallel pillars supporting the floor and waits.Waits for the shock that would send him plummeting to the very bottom as he’s wracked in convulsions.Waits for that voice to tell him he chose wrong.The collar does not go off, and there are no voices over the intercom telling him to get back up. He’s not on the easy path yet though, his left forearm still hurts from the bolt and is bleeding freely. Which is worrying, cause its making his grip on the wall harder when its covered in his blood. Gritting through the pain he essentially hops towards the end goal in what could possibly be the most stressful jumping spider obstacle course. After what feels like a painful hour, he reaches close to where he thinks the end circle is. He can still hear the thwips and bangs of the bolts and gunshots above. Bracing himself between the two walls with his leg and back, he pushes at the the floor tiling above him, gritting against the pain in arm from the wound.The angle is awkward, and he can’t get much leverage without losing his grip and falling. Though eventually it does break free. He peers carefully over the edge, and a rare small smile tugs at his face. The floor tile was right next to the circle, and with a little vindictive glee Izuku slaps down a hand on it. And like that the walls stop moving, there are no more bolts or gunfire. The test has ended. Izuku hauls himself up to the circle, and lets the black creek forward on his leg and arm, and ignores the discomfort as it stitches back together his flesh. Then there's a sound from the intercom, not quite static. It takes a while for him to place what the sound is, its been so long since he’s heard it. But it comes to him. Its clapping.“Well done, Izuku.”And like that the fear is back. He should be happy someone is praising him. He should. God its been so long since someone has praised him for anything. But not from this man. Not from the man who takes from him what cannot be replaced.“Well.”A small part of him basks in it though, no matter how hard he tries to squash it. This man has hurt him, in ways his fathe-doctor and staff cant even hope to match. And despite the fact that he completed the task they made him do, he can’t help but feel he’s done something horribly wrong.“Done.”
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
Izuku can’t quell the worry that has been festering inside of him ever since that obstacle course test. Even though he hasn’t seen Sensei nor heard from the man since, he can’t help shake the feeling that he’s always being scrutinized, more so than usual. The days pass without any other irregularities, his fath-doctor or the orderlies coming to fetch him for more evaluations, or to grant him use of the facilities to maintain his level of fitness. Today is one of those days, the orderlies dragging him to one of rooms lined with equipment.He goes through the motions, as they strap sensors to him and guide him to use which machines, retreating into his head as they tell him where to use his quirks, when, and for how long.
To see how long they can twist until he breaks
He was praised, praised for how he circumvented the traps in that test. While the him before the cage would have reveled in the praise, it feels like poison from that man. He’s done something wrong, but what exactly, he can’t place. His fath-doctor’s glare at him as they led him back to his cell that day only validated his paranoia.
His light is dying faster and he can’t stop it
He can’t help but feel that he’s sped up the countdown. He’s running out of time. Time before what, well, he feels this all encompassing dread that he’s gonna find out rather soon.
And there’s nothing he can do
As the bell rings Bakugou Katsuki packs up his books, not bothered by the rest of the class. Before he would have to deal with annoying hanger-ons that wanted to be associated with him because of his awesome quirk. Teachers and staff always praised him and said he would be going places. That all stopped roughly a year and a half ago when Dek--Izuku disappeared. The fucker had always been annoying, acting like he wasn’t the most useless person, always reaching out with a helping hand when he wasn’t needed. When he didn’t show up one day, all the extras were wondering what happened to him, as if they even cared. The dork didn’t even call in sick, nor did his mom. Then it was two days, then three. Then some of the damn extras were looking at him suspiciously, as if he was the reason. None of the fuckers had the guts to say anything to him though.The fourth day the class rep went to the principle with a couple others. They painted him like some fucking monster as if they were goddamn saints. As if they hadn’t just sat there and watched and laughed at pathetic Dek--Izuku crying or whimpering. As if they hadn’t jumped on the bandwagon. As if they hadn’t gone and torn up his shoes some days, shoved trash in his locker, kicked and shoved him, or spurned any association with the quirkless idiot. They we’re putting everything on display, and they were fucking wiping their hands clean of it. Even the fucking teachers, hell, their homeroom teacher who had been present but hadn’t said a word, “couldn’t believe that such gross misconduct was happening in his class.”It was like the pedestal they’d put him on crumbled, and the damn extras were looking down on him. His mom had been furious, she’d always been soft on the damn dork. She’d yelled and smacked him, but that didn’t nearly hurt as much as how his dad took it. His dad, who was always easy going and the calming force to the explosive bouts between him and his mom.He’d never seen his dad wear such a look.It was as if disappointment and anger and sadness had hate sex and had a baby.Katsuki had never felt smaller. He’d zoned out as his principle and parents were discussing the ramifications of the revelation of “his” bullying.Singular.Not everyone else.He remembered suspension being mentioned, along with anger management sessions. Expulsion was considered, but considering that he’d been the school’s upcoming “golden child” for a while, they decided to be lenient. They also wanted him to issue a formal apology once they could get a hold of the Midoriyas.Then as if he couldn’t catch a break, the police came to his house. Not to take him away, but to ask him when he last saw Dek-Midoriya because apparently he’d been kidnapped, and his mom was in the hospital, and they were fishing for leads. Leave it to that quirkless idiot to be kidnapped.It didn’t stop the damn extras spreading rumors that somehow this was still his fault. That he’d paid off someone to take away the eyesore, or that some child trafficking ring were looking for easy targets and he wanted to make some quick cash. Fucking ridiculous. They all kept clear of him. It shouldn’t sting, because they weren’t going to amount to anything, they just coasted through their days without any real drive. It shouldn’t. But it does.He’s not gonna let that stop him though. Especially not when he’s been given one more chance at going to U.A. despite all this. He’s not gonna fuck it up.That conversation still twists his stomach with anxiety when he thinks of how fucking close he got to losing any chance of going to U.A. to be number one.
He’s brought forward to the principal’s office again, and he wonders for a second if the guy changed his mind and he is going to be expelled. If that’s the case then shit, how is he going to continue his dream? Expulsions are black marks for any School that offer Heroics courses, and while yeah it is possible to intern and eventually get a job as a sidekick at a Hero firm, he wants to debut on his own! Not to mention that there are very few Hero firms that accept anyone outside of a Hero course without seriously vetting their records.
He slapped himself, man up dammit! Whatever the fuck they threw at him, he’d bounce back, just watch him!
As soon as he opened the door, the false bravado left him as soon as it came. It wasn’t just his principal. There on one of the two couches were Nedzu, principal of U.A., and goddamn motherfucking All Might himself next to him. Katsuki would be freaking out about meeting his idol if it were under any other circumstances. Granted, he’s still freaking out, internally, just for a whole slew of different reasons. The weird bear/mouse/dog anomaly that is Nedzu waved him in.
“Ah, young Bakugou, please have a seat! Your principal and I were just discussing the schools you discussed with your councilor.”
Stomach, meet floor.
He sets himself down on the seat while on autopilot while his head is just an echo chamber with the word “shit” bouncing around for eternity. “To my understanding, you’ve listed my school as the only choice you’d consider, despite your councilor wanting you to establish fall-back options should anything occur.”
“Yes.” Shit, were they gonna take him away from his goal before he even had a fucking chance!?“U.A. is a school that has garnered a reputation as a prestigious academy due to our difficult entry exam and rigorous course material. From your records, you are well on track to meeting the qualifications of attending my school” Katsuki can hear a ‘but’ there, unspoken, and has to bite his lip before he says something stupid and even more damning. “However, this recent behavioral incident is … worrying.”“I was stupid, I get it” he bites out, he’s had it thrown in his face so many times he’s getting sick of it. “It was mean, stupid, childish, I KNOW, I’ve been told-” “I believe you’re missing the point young Bakugou.” Like that Katsuki can feel the anger and fire in him die out. He’s heard All Might in interviews, in videos of his bouts with villains, and charity events. He’s never heard him sound this serious and solemn. “The bullying is indeed a very big issue here, but what has also concerned us is your...”“Thought process, outlook, how you rationalized said behavior” Nedzu cuts in when All Might seems to struggle. “It...it was just Deku...”“That’s not going to cut it in this scenario young Bakugou. From your parents, and from others including previous teachers, you and Midoriya Izuku grew up as close friends. Though that changed drastically once Izuku presented as Quirkless at age four.” All Might leans forward with an intensity that wasn’t threatening but was damn unnerving “did this behavior start because Izuku was declared to be quirkless? Because he would be an easier target?”“Wh-What!? No!”“Was it because you saw him as something beneath you? A bug, a lower life form perhaps?” Nedzu presses with a slightly frightening gleam in his eyes.
Katsuki sputters, how does he tell them how far off they are? No matter how much he wants to deny it.
How does he even begin to tell his idol and his possible future principal that a quirkless idiot made him feel inferior!? He wasn’t inferior dammit! “Why does that even fucking matter?” he settles on. Because really, the whole incident is almost old news. His suspension has run its course, he’s watched like a hawk by his teachers and the students look like they’d only touch him with a 10 meter pole, the fucking cowards. He’s gone to the anger management courses, for all the fucking good that’ll do him. And Deku is still gone.
“It matters, because of your aspirations and the possible consequences for others if you don’t learn” Nedzu chimes in after pouring them all a cup of tea. “We’ve reviewed the report, as well as those of students and faculty” and before Katsuki can make a scathing retort of why doesn’t he just side with those spineless liars, Nedzu turns scary, and his own principal looks ready to piss himself. “And let me assure you, there will be many discussions to be had with about the fault that lies in everyone’s hands that such behavior continued this long. Getting back to the original topic though, one thing we noticed, was how you refer to everyone. Extra’s, was what I believe you said.” Katsuki clenches his fists on his lap, waiting for the damn thing to get to the fucking point. “Now there are some worrying things one can draw from that label. Extra’s could imply that you view other human beings in your class as unneeded, of sympathy, life, or of society. Either deeper meaning has worrying implications. It also points out to a need, subconscious or not, to value oneself almost to the point of narcissism.”“They’re all fucking slackers! They talk all big how they’re gonna be famous or heroes or some shit but they don’t fucking do anything!” He explodes, though not literally since using his quirk right now will probably be really fucking stupid. “They all have shitty or weak quirks and they all brag how its gonna land them a job as a hero! They’re-”“Not great like you? Not inherently gifted? Not ‘destined’?” Nedzu cuts in, and Katsuki can’t stop the flinch at the use of what his quirk councilor used to describe him. “Ah, got it in one, didn’t I? Now, normally this would be difficult, but workable through our curriculum as often in a Hero course one must deal with overinflated egos. No, what is worrying is how you treat those extras. Whenever asked for help, whether it be mundane or not, you’ve refused and spurned their requests for help with the same reason for all of them. They were extras.” The silence is heavy as Nedzu sips his tea.“Young Bakugou” All Might starts after its clear that Nedzu is content to make Katsuki sit and sweat. “You want to be a hero, yes?” Katsuki nods fervently because his mouth isn’t working right now because holy shit All Might is addressing him. “Then tell me something, when has a hero EVER refused aid to someone asking for or in need of help, because they didn’t think they deserved it?”
Katsuki almost wishes he had picked up the cup of tea offered earlier, because right now his mouth is dry and his throat feels like sandpaper. Because as much as he wants to call up someone, anyone, to help justify his past actions, he CAN’T.
“...never...” “Therein lies the crux of this issue. An issue we full intend to fix. While yes, your quirk is certainly destructive and could have many applications for a Hero, you up to this point, have not displayed any traits of a hero” Nedzu says, and there is a damning finality in it to Katsuki’s ears.
This is it. This is the doors being to him before he can even try dammit! He’s not gonna cry dammit.
“Now it is our understanding that you’re attending anger management courses Tuesday and Thursday evenings after class. It is a step in the right direction, though as stated before its one of several you’ll have to take in order to attend U.A.”
Wait.
What?
“I’ve talked with your parents and your principal, and all the way up to the date of the entrance exam, every Monday and Wednesday evening you’ll be attending classes through one of the tutoring centers run through my staff, primarily focusing on Quirk regulations, Quirk abuse, as well first response procedures, and so on. Friday, Saturday, and Sunday you’ll be taking steps to understand the fundamental aspects of a hero, by bettering your community through various acts of community service that I have decided upon.” All Might retrieved a rather thick folder from a suitcase which he handed to Nedzu. “I’ve already sent copies to your parents as well as your academic councilor. This is your chance, Bakugou Katsuki. A one time offer, if you will. It’s going to be tough, exhausting, and physically demanding. Though if you accept to go through with this proposal, to follow it to the letter and show a willingness to be a better person, to be a better hero-” Katsuki can’t take the folder fast enough.“I will. I won’t fail.” Because he can’t. This is his last shot, and he’s going to make it count.“Ah, good, good. Please look over the folders contents, your new schedule starts next week, best to take time to prepare.” The two heroes make to leave, and dammit it almost seems too good to be true, so much so that he can’t help but want to confirm that this isn’t some fucked up daydream he’s having in the middle of a panic attack from being told he can’t go to U.A.“W-Wait!” Shit, stupid brain, what are you doing!? “Why are you doing this?...I mean, why even give me another chance? You’ve heard, and…” Let’s face it, he really fucked up Deku’s childhood, how could they-“I am currently the one handling young Midoriya’s kidnapping case” All Might eventually replies, “his mother had a theory at how Izuku was being treated, and by whom.” Katsuki can’t stop the guilt twisting in his gut at the thought of what she must think of him. He called her Aunty for gods sake! All while he beat up her son! “And despite all the concerns she voiced, how she wanted to bring this up years before it escalated to this level, do you know what young Izuku said? What he told her every time she wanted to address the issue?” Katsuki has an inkling. The dork hated his guts most likely.
All Might had turned and was kneeling to be eye level with him. God the man is ridiculously tall.
“He said he couldn’t do that to you, that he couldn’t risk taking away your future. That you had the potential to be an amazing hero.”
What?
What!?
No, no, Deku hated him. He’s sure of it! He made the quirkless wonder’s life hell, how could he think that he would be a good hero!? The thought that Deku still thought of him like that, that he could be a hero, has his gut twisting with a mixture of feelings he won't name.
“So, I am going to trust his judgment, and we’re giving you a chance to show us he was right. Don’t make him be wrong about that.” He still can’t believe that after everything he’s done, the dork still vouched for him. It fills him with mixed feelings. Irritation, anger.
Gut wrenching guilt, a sense of being unworthy, undeserving.
After checking his planner, he makes his way to the train station after making sure that he has the sturdy working gloves he’ll need. This month it’ll be clearing up the river bed near one of the hiking trails near the mountains, because some assholes couldn’t wait to get to a trashcan. At least on the train ride there he could study.As he managed to snag a seat before the crowd on the train took all of them, baring those that need them, and pulled out one of his notebooks to review. He’s not gonna throw away his last shot. “What cute ears, tell me again, how are they going to help you when it gives your opponent another handhold?” Izuku’s head is wrenched back painfully by the grip on his new ears as a fist collides with his face, making him taste blood. He takes longer than before to recover from the stinging pain and dizziness. It earns him a kick to the ribs that sends him to the floor in a crumpled heap, wheezing. “That new quirk is all fine and dandy for telling when some bastard is sneaking up on you, but its thrown your pain tolerance to shit. Don’t worry though, your dear old teacher will fix that.”He’s gasping, his torso is on fire from the heightened feedback of the physical trauma on the blows from the past half hour of sparring. It was so easy to control Lepus sense in a controlled environment, but to hold it back in the middle of a fight, let alone with the pain, is extremely taxing. Its effecting his stance, slowing his reaction time, and he is paying for it.
In broken bones, in scars, in blood
He’s barely risen into a haphazard defensive stance when the instructor grasps him by the shoulders and viciously jams a scaled knee into his gut and he can feel the bile rising in his throat. He forces it down, and hooks an arm under the knee, holding him in an awkward stance as he, feeling rather vindictive, viciously jabs at the man’s crotch. While the man gives a slight wheeze, confirming Izuku’s suspicion that the scales cover the entire body, it still produces the desired result. As the man stumbles out of his hold, folding a bit in to himself, Izuku slams an elbow at the man’s nose. Not quite the crunch he was hoping for, but he gave the man a bloody nose at least.That's as much as he gets in before the man retaliates with a right cross that leaves him feeling dazed from the sensory overload, and then gets his legs swept out from under him landing him flat on his back wheezing. “Fucking little shit” the instructor growls, closing his fist around Izuku’s neck, squeezing. “Just like your fucking mom, you act like hot shit until someone gets a few licks in. She wasn’t so much of a spitfire after I bashed her head into the fucking asphalt.”Izuku feels the acid burn in his chest and throat, and it isn’t the bile from his stomach, not the feeling of his trachea slowly being crushed under scaled fingers.
His mother, whose smile and embrace comforted him whenever he came home with cuts and bruises.
He starts to punch at the instructor’s face, but he’s not budging, and is laughing.
His mother, who held him when his fears set in, when his doubts became suffocating to the point he’d almost wish everything could just stop.
He pulls back his fist, and makes the black second skin come to sharp points at the end of his fingertips.
HOW FUCKING DARE HE!
The instructor screams as Izuku digs his fingers into the man’s right eye socket, and twists and pulls. The instructor lets him go, screaming and clutches at his now empty socket. Izuku doesn’t pay any attention to how the destroyed eyeball slips through his fingers like jelly. He doesn’t care that his knuckles ache as he repeatedly slams his fist into the man’s screaming face. Not when a scream is threatening to tear its way from his throat, not when the image of his mother, crumpled and injured, fills his mind.He doesn’t stop even as the man goes slack in his hold.He doesn’t stop until the orderlies come with prods that shock him down to his core.It isn’t until later when he wakes up in his cell did the weight of what he did has him heaving in the corner bucket.He intentionally permanently maimed someone.It wasn’t a life or death test, it wasn’t. He didn’t need to go to that extreme, even if he passed out he wouldn’t have died.
After all, he’d been brought back before from the comforting lull of nothingness
Despite all that though, he had wanted to do that. He had wanted to make that man hurt in that moment, for hurting one of the few people whose memory he still had, that he coveted dearly. And that, that worried him.
How much more would he change?
He’s fed less due to his outburst, a punishment he’s known several times in the past, when he doesn’t march in line, when he acts human. He’s been able to soldier on through before, but with Lepus Sense, everything is amplified and it becomes unbearable. He tries to drown it out be reviewing his memories, trying to recall the most obscure details of them, in an effort to ignore how empty his stomach was.When they do serve him food, he tries to make it last by eating as slowly as possible. It’s a test of will though, as often by the time they do feed him he’s tempted to scarf it down as fast as possible. He’s done that once before, spending the next half hour retching and heaving it into the drain is not something he wants to do again.Today though something is different. Or at least he thinks its another day. He assumes that he’s allowed eight hours rest each “day” but he can’t be sure without a clock or a window to the outside. There are footsteps that are approaching him, but its three people instead of one. He’s ready when they open the door, compliant and watching. Its two orderlies, and one man that Izuku has never seen before. The man is well dressed, much like Sensei, though the clothes are not of the same fine make. Also where there should be his head, there is only blackish purple smoke, and gleaming yellow eyes. The two orderlies hold out the quirk suppressant cuffs, but the man waves them to stop.“That will not be necessary. Midoriya will be compliant I trust?” the man states, its a question but not really. Izuku wants to stay quiet, safe, but he has the feeling that an answer is expected of him. In the end, he settles on a hesitant nod. “Good, follow us then.” The two orderlies look ready to protest, but a swift glare from the man make whatever argument they have die. Izuku follows them, feeling weird being able to leave without the cuffs around him. It should be pathetic how that little aspect feels so liberating.This time they’re lead down a set of hallways that Izuku has never seen, and that makes him nervous. The sense of unease only increases when the man dismisses the two orderlies. Now its just the two of them, and suddenly the hallways seem so much more empty and intimidating. Whenever something new happens, something wrong is sure to follow.
Someone is sure to steal more from him.
The arrive at a wooden door. Its such an odd departure from the cold plastic and metal of the facility that it actually makes him pause momentarily before he resumes his pace. The man knocks at the door, the sound odd in Izuku’s new ears.“You may enter” and like that Izuku’s paranoia proved right. It was Sensei. His stomach is twisting and knotting, but he forces himself to appear calm as he can as he’s led into a well furnished room. Unlike the rest of the facility, the lights in this room aren’t glaring and clinical, but warm. There are couches and chairs, of fine dark wood and graceful simplicity, with a table nestled between them laden with a tea kettle with tea cups accompanied by various plates of food. To the far right lies an island with bottles and glasses arranged meticulously behind it. Izuku could care less for them because there is Sensei, seated, and watching him. “Thank you Kurogiri” the man who Izuku now knows the name to nods, and goes to walk behind the island, leaving Izuku floundering, not knowing what to do. This is somehow worse, so much worse than the tests and lesson. For those he’s known the risks, what lines to toe and which to avoid at all costs lest he’d want to bleed. Should he address the man who summoned him? Follow Kurogiri’s lead? Wait to be addressed? Apologize for harming the instructor?No, he can’t do that. If he saw that man again…
He’d rip and tear, he’d smother his light just to make the man pay-
“No need to be so shy young Izuku, come, sit” Sensei gestured to either of the couches near the table. Izuku, grateful for some direction, went to one that faced both Kurogiri and Sensei. He had a feeling Sensei knew why he chose the seat, had a feeling the man was smiling, though he couldn’t tell with the mask. Another dilemma he faced was trying to ignore the scent of the tea and the food laid out on the table. Going so long on so little food made the allure to dig into the food so much harder to resist.
Intentional, they were leading him along, prodding
“It has come to my understanding that there was an incident in one of your sparring sessions with one of the men under my employ?” Izuku tried to hide the twitch of his ears at the mention of his...outburst.
At his anger, at his sadness at the casual reference of pain towards his few sources of light left.
The man is looking at him, expectantly, and its with an odd guilty glee that Izuku realizes that he wants him to talk.“Y-yes...” he replies, bowing his head. Something in him tells that for this man in particular, that deference is expected.
The collar is still there even if he cannot see nor feel it
“A rather messy affair, though the absence of his services are of no great loss” Sensei hums, “the man had little potential beyond simple muscle after all.”
Loss.
Had he killed him? The thought makes him slightly sick, the nausea blending with the hunger to make an uncomfortable twist in his abdomen.“Ah, though, where are my manners? You haven’t eaten yet, have you young Izuku?”“N-No sir”“That simply won’t do” Sensei tuts as he shakes his head in disapproval. “After all, what happened could only be expected. After all, should it not be celebrated when a student no longer needs their teacher? Denying one food seems very counter productive, one I’ll have to discuss with your father.”Celebrated? He had maimed a man, and possibly killed him from how Sensei was phrasing it. The punishment was warranted.He reaped what he sowed. “Do you have a favorite, boy? I wasn’t quite sure, so I had requested several dishes prepared.” The question makes Izuku pause, as he tries to remember. Scents and texture were some of the easiest memories to lose, and with a wrenching sadness, he realizes he doesn’t quite remember what foods he’s had.
There’s nothing but static where he remembers being presented a plate of something that makes him smile in delight and its jarring. Its painful. Its wrong.
“I...I don’t know” he admits. This is the one that steals from him, he can’t forget that, no matter how much a small part of him basks in the attention the man shows him.“Well why don’t we find out? I myself am a bit of a picky eater, not in what I eat mind you, but rather in the care and meticulousness in it’s preparation. I’ve had many years to refine my palate, its a vice I’m rather complacent in satiating. In my travels I have developed an appreciation in other culture’s cuisine. Its always a delight to share those tastes to the uninitiated.” What follows is frighteningly normal, Sensei pointing out various dishes and their most notable traits and ingredients, Izuku complying in trying all those offered. He was starving, and he did have the feeling that being rude to the man is something he does not want to do.The food is delicious. All the new tastes amplified by Lepus Sense rush over him. When was the last time he ate something that even smelled like anything remotely like this? He wracks his brain for whatever manners he’s retained even with this euphoria, conscious of the two other people in the room and the weight of their eyes on him. He feels so out of place in this room, with the subtle but obvious display of wealth and power at play.
A shackled thing dragged through halls of wealth were he is unfit to even breathe in
It is only after he has sampled nearly everything that Sensei seems fit to steer the conversation elsewhere. “How has my gift fared for you, young Izuku?”
Liar, they aren’t gifts. They’re not they’re not they’re not!
“I-It has … been s-strange...I’ll have to get used to it” Izuku stutters out what he hopes is a safe reply. Sensei is not directly involved in the refinement of Noumu, at least from what little Izuku knows. The person was the one who gifted-
Forced. Shoved beneath his skin, trying to fit but only coming out wrong.
-the quirks he now holds. Its reasonable to assume that Sensei knew the limits of the quirks he had garnered, at the very least the basics of them. To explain them in detail would be a waste of breath. Sensei hums in agreement, and Izuku feels the tension ease in him. Slightly.“The previous wielder did have acute social anxiety. Though to say if it had been amplified by the quirk, or was a byproduct of simply never being able to stop it, now that is hard to say” All For One says, fingers steepled in contemplation. Or amusement. The mask makes it hard for Izuku to read him, and his body language is even more elusive. “I will instruct your father in finding out whether or not this … oversensitivity can be nullified or turned off. Awareness is crucial, but flooding the mind with inane sensations would be detrimental to your potential. Now, to get to the other reason I invited you. Kurogiri, if you wouldn’t mind clearing the table?” Kurogiri nods and before Izuku’s eyes the same black purplish smoke that constitutes the person’s head forms a swirling oval on the surface of the table, into which all the empty dishes sink into and disappear.Izuku can’t help hide his fascination. This is one of the few times he’s been able to observe a quirk is a setting that doesn’t involve danger, nor death. It stirs some empty horizons in his memories painfully. Was Kurogiri’s quirk control of a form of subspace? A destruction quirk? No, not likely, the plates and utensils were of fine make. Something tells him that while Sensei isn’t one to shy away from displays of wealth or power, he isn’t one to frivolously throw it away. So, a teleportation quirk, or subspace quirk. He doesn’t realize that Kurogiri has moved until he hears the clack of a wooden box being set on the table.“My my, Izuku, I could practically hear the gears spinning in your head” Sensei chuckles. “Care to share your thoughts?”A not question, one Izuku knows carries a hidden punishment, a hidden threat that hangs just above his head lest he not do as bid. The illusion of choice.
He’s never had a choice in this.
“I-I was just wondering … about Kurogiri-san’s quirk?” Izuku explains, and hopes that that is all Sensei wants to hear. Though the silence extends, and Sensei’s head is still inclined towards him. The demand of more not needed to be spoken aloud. “I was just w-wondering what his quirk … was? It can’t be disintegration, it doesn’t seem like y-you to do s-something like-”“Oh? And why is that pray tell?” Sensei asks. Just like that Izuku can almost feel the man’s fingers digging and weaving into his spine. There is a dangerous edge to the man’s voice. Its unlike anything Izuku has ever heard from the man. “What do I seem like to you?”
He’s said wrong. A ‘Thing’ does not make assumptions of the hand that binds it. Its gone beyond the bounds of what a thing is allowed and it will bleed for it.
“W-well” Izuku gulps, and soldiers on. If he chose wrong, he might as well be honest about it. “Y-You’re different from the rest. The others … they do things that don’t … have purpose sometimes?”“Explain.”“T-this room, its nothing like the others. Not even the office. Like the door” he waves towards it, “All the others are p-plastic, or steel. Yours is wood, and carved. Beautiful” he lamely settles on. “The furniture here … the food … w-when you gave me the food … everything for you must have purpose, have...weight?” The contrast is intentional, it has to be. Though he will not voice that. It is one thing to explain how you get a read on the personality of the person who decides your worth. It’s another entirely to voice suspicions of manipulation. Perhaps they’re unfounded though?
If so, then why must the man steal from him, one who has so little left of themselves?
Sensei is quiet, breathing even through the mask, giving away nothing. “Explain how this correlates with Kurogiri’s quirk” Sensei finally says after a moment that feels like an eternity. Izuku mentally jumps at the chance to air out his theories, hopeful that it will curb whatever punishment he’s incurred for acting out of line.“Since Kurogiri-san made the plates and s-silverware disappear, I had thought … that it might be a disintegration quirk. But that’s improbable? Because of what I said earlier … no waste. So, since it looked similar t-to his...” at this Izuku waves vaguely in the direction of his own head, not wanting to be overly rude “I thought that … its either a subspace quirk that only Kurogiri-san can access, or a t-teleportation quirk?”Kurogiri’s eyes widened just slightly at teleportation, Izuku noted in his fear as the silence settled over the room. Sensei startles him out of his dread with a light series of claps, his posture hinting at … amusement?“It is one thing to hear from your father your past hobbies in analysis, and quite another to witness your mind at work! I told you Kurogiri, a diamond in the rough.”“Indeed” Kurogiri nods, looking at Izuku as if appraising him for the first time. “To narrow it down to two possibilities in such a short time span is admirable.”The small suppressed part of Izuku basks in the acknowledgement despite his best efforts. “Teleportation” he states before he can think better of it and keep his mouth shut and waits and anticipates the fingers of Sensei to dart and take and-“Ha ha! Oh young Izuku, such a delightful mind in there” Sensei chuckles at Kurogiri’s expense. “I will gratefully ensure that I can nurture that cunning of yours. After all, it has come to my attention that your father has made another failing to ensure your cognitive development does not stagnate while we make you into what you should be.”
Lies, lies, lies, lies. He was what he should have been before. What he is now is wrong, so wrong.
“Tell me young Izuku, have you ever played Chess?” Sensei asks as Kurogiri removes the top of the checkered pattern box and removes ivory and ebony pieces that it contained. “No? Well, we’ll just have to remedy that. Not surprising though, your father never struck me as one to play Chess. Much less Go. Chess, and an understanding of how to play, and how to win, can only greatly aid in one’s strategic thinking. We’ll move on to Go once you’ve become familiar with the inner working of Chess, the scope of possibilities in Go would be much more daunting to make you start with. Now, let me show you each piece’s purpose." Kurogiri has set the ebony and ivory pieces in what Izuku assumes to be there proper place. Sensei looks at them before grabbing one of the small black pieces."Let us start with the pawn.”
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
“I must say, while I am never one to doubt your decisions sir, the boy … certainly surprised me.”All For One smiled. The young boy had exceeded his expectations. While it was expected that the boy would be able to narrow down the possibilities of Kurogiri’s quirk, to scrutinize any reaction Kurogiri made to the suggested possibilities and deducing it from that alone had been delightful. The boy had also grasped the basics of chess, of worth and positioning quite quickly. Yes, he mused as he glanced back at the board, pieces still in place from the mock battle, and picked up the remaining black pawn.He will do, quite nicely. “Yagi?”Toshinori waved, feeling awkward with the flowers he brought in front of Inko and the nurse walking her through the halls. Why was it that whenever he came to visit her, that same nurse was always there!? It was a damn conspiracy, all the “useful” suggestions the staff gave him as he walked by, the receptionist’s smirk and upturned eyebrow, they were all in on it! Was it a precognitive quirk at play? He shook himself out his inner ramblings. “Midoriya-san, I h-hope you don’t mind me visiting?” he said, still stunned at the strength of this woman to be up and about so much.“Not at all, I was just about to take a walk through the gardens, would you like to join me?” she chuckled, a beautiful sound in Toshinori’s opinion, he’d have to try to make her laugh more he decided. “ The doctors recommend that I walk often to help my recovery, but the halls do tend to get a bit tedious. Luckily for me, they’ve okay-ed me going through the small garden they have. With a chaperon of course, something I’m sure you’re capable of doing” Toshinori fumbles to take the offered arm, pretty sure that his face is heating up a bit at the rather intimate gesture. It’s okay though, friends help friends right? Holding their arm in support isn’t too forward? Besides, her nurse was with them.Yeah, he repeated to himself, just a friend visiting a friend at the hospital.“Flowers as always. Here, I’ll put them in a vase for you Inko-chan” the nurse said, taking the flowers Toshinori had brought and almost forgot about. “It looks like you’ll be in capable hands, so I’ll leave you two to your walk. Remember, no straining yourself you hear! No more than an hour, and if you feel tired sooner, let Yagi-san know, okay?”“Of course” Inko replied.“Take good care of her mister! The staff here have gotten rather fond here of our favorite strawberry” the nurse smiled.“Yume-san!” Inko cried out, flustered and turning beet red at the nickname.“Of please Inko-chan, you’re an adorable strawberry” the nurse teased, before leaving with the flowers “Have fun!” Dammit, Toshinori could swear that he saw the woman wink at him! She left them on purpose! How should he act now!? Should he act as if the nurse’s departure wasn’t intentional!? Because it most certainly was. Should he-“Yagi?”“U-uh, yes?” he stuttered, brought out of the circular spiral of his anxiety.“Please, do not call me a strawberry” Inko smiled as she spoke. Yet Toshinori couldn’t help but feel that there was something frightening about that smile.“O-of course! I wouldn’t dare call you anything you were uncomfortable with!” That was one of the things he did not want to do. Inko’s smile lost a little of that hard edge, softening with its glow.“Good, then you can call me Inko.” At this Toshinori had to catch himself lest he fall and accidentally drag down Inko in his surprise.“Er, well, that is, I wouldn’t want to be too forward-”“But you wouldn’t, because I’m giving you permission.” Dammit, kind and sly to boot. Gran Torino would have been having a field day if he saw how this woman was leading him by the nose.“E-erm, very well, Inko...san” he settled on.“Well, its a start” she pouted. It was adorable, and it took all of Toshinori’s efforts to ensure that the stupid grin that threatened to cover his entire face did not happen. After that they settled into a rather mundane conversation concerning her recovery, little bits of gossip of the staff, something Toshinori jumped on eagerly as familiar grounds. They got some greetings from staff, specifically those that had a hand in the operations which had saved the woman’s life. Toshinori was sure to convey thanks in those cases. For the brief time that he had known Ms. Midoriya, she had been a comfort in his rather seclusive lifestyle. The knowledge that she had been touch and go for several hours in the operating room was an unpleasant and persistent reminder.Musutafu General Hospital did have a rather nice garden, nothing extensive. Though Toshinori supposed, it was more than adequate for giving its patients a nice reprieve from the building. There were a few trees dotting throughout, providing shade for the odd bench here and there. There were rose bushes, lilies, and various others that Toshinori could not name. Most of his gardening knowledge was limited to succulents, as the things were rather hard to kill through neglect, and his lifestyle didn’t really lend towards hobbies. He had yet to kill one of the potted plants at his home, unlike when Midnight had gifted him orchids one year, which had promptly died after four days. Now that he thought about it, maybe he should research flower arrangements when he has the chance. The clerk had had an odd glint in their eyes when he described the occasion for the flowers and to whom he would be giving them too.Shit, he hoped that he hadn’t made Ms. Midoriya uncomfortable, wait, did she even know flower arrangements? Still, he should be more careful-“Yagi, you’re about to walk into a rose bush” Inko teased, poking him in the side. Toshinori looked and saw that he was indeed about to take a step into a waist high rose bush. With thorns.“Ah, yes, er, sorry about that. I got lost in my thoughts, I’m sorry about that” he apologized. Honestly, he was the one supposed to be looking out for her.“Oh, no worries Yagi” Inko giggles, “it’s quite endearing. Izuku used to do it often as well.” At that her smile turns melancholy. “ He was always thinking, wondering, asking questions. Threw his teachers crazy with his constant questions. It got to the point that all the librarians knew him by name.” She leads them to one of the benches shadowed by an oak tree. “ He kept notebooks of everything and anything. Heroes, science, astronomy, he had such a hunger to just know” she sighs, “I was just so happy that his future looked like it had promise. Though a part of me always wondered, if that hunger was due to him not having a quirk. If he was just trying to make sense of it, or worse, compensate for a handicap he didn’t have.”Toshinori sits, patiently. While normally he tries to steer away from sad topics, it looks like she needs this. Just needs to share her son who was so special to her. And if he’s being honest, Toshinori can’t help but feel a need to know the boy, who has shown selflessness that he’s seeing gradually diminishing in the Heroics field, and who seems to have nurtured nothing but the best aspects of his mother. Her kindness, her strength. It hurts though. It hurts to know this kind boy, but not having been able to save him yet, to know that somewhere he is hoping to go home but can’t. He also feels unbearably guilty that he’s had the pleasure and privilege to know the young boy’s mother, at the expense of the boy’s safety. Its not his fault the boy was taken, something his friend Naomasa has constantly tried to drill into his head as the search goes on.A more self depreciating voice in his head says otherwise. That because of his injury, because of his ignorance of his enemy’s true influence, that this family is suffering. That if he were better, he could have stopped it, or reunited them sooner.Inko flicks his shoulder again, making him start. “You also do that, just like him” she says, “you see others in pain, and you try to shoulder all of it.” She smiles sadly, “I remember once when he was six, after Hisashi and I had another fight over the man’s distance, Izuku apologized. He apologized because he heard that bastard say he goes abroad to forget what kind of son we had.”Toshinori has to keep himself in check lest he demolish the wooden armrest under his fingers. It still astounds him how someone could act so callous, so cruel, towards these two. “He shouldn’t have, it wasn’t his fault. It. Wasn’t” he bites out. A child should never be shamed for how they were born, from their own parent as well.“Then do something for me Yagi” She says , laying a hand on his shoulders. “Try to not blame yourself. I know I’ve told you this before, and I’m telling you again because I swear you must also have a hard head quirk. It’s scary, how much I can see you in him, the hunched in shoulders and the weight on your back no one can see. You’ve already done so much for me, and continue to do so. All the others have given up on my son, trying to convince me that I should be prepared, not to find my son, b-but rather … a body” she sobs, and Toshinori holds her hand before he can think better of it. “I just, I … I just know that my baby boy is alive, that he’s out there. I haven’t given up on him, and neither have you. So thank you. Thank you for that.”“I will find him Inko. I swear it.” Because he has to. Because he can’t stand to see this woman hurt and not be able to do anything about it. He refuses to believe her boy is dead. Call it a gut feeling, but its there, a frantic whisper in the back of his mind that the boy is still alive, desperately reaching out for someone to pull him out of the dark."Thank you. Inko huh? I guess I should call you Toshinori as well" She teased."I-I uh, I mean!" Toshinori sputtered. He hadn't even noticed the slip. "Only if you're okay with it that is" She adds on, perhaps taking pity on his flustered state. "I know I've insisted that you can be informal with me, but I don't want to make you uncomfortable.""No, no. Its fine. I don't mind," He says after regaining some composure. "Okay then Toshinori." Just like that he's smiling again, finding that he likes the way that his name sounds when Inko says it. They remain on the bench for a bit, and before the sun dips in the sky too much, they start to walk back to her room. It is a comfortable silence between them, broken by a few greetings on the way back. In her room he sees his flowers put in another vase, the ones from last visit still there, along with a few books that weren’t there before. He has to fight the frown tugging at his face as she lets go of his arm to settle herself on the bed. Don’t hope so much dammit!“Thank you for joining me today” Inko said, smiling brightly “having company makes the day much more feasible.”“It is always a pleasure, Inko” Toshinori replies, desperately trying to quell the thundering of his heart at the sight of that smile. “I wish you a good day, and until I see you next.”‘W-wait!” Inko called out, and Toshinori stumbled a bit.“Ah, yes?”“Could you come over here?” Inko coughed lightly, and she was looking rather … red? Was she feeling under the weather? Did they stay outside too long? It was a little breezy, and she wasn’t all that bundled up.“Sure, are feeling unwell? Do you want me to get you somethi-” All of Toshinori’s thoughts ground to a halt at the feeling of lips, Inko’s lips, on his cheek.A kiss.A kiss! His face felt like it was on fire, probably looked like it too.“Take care of yourself Toshinori, okay?” Inko wasn’t better off, blush darkening by the second.“Ah, er, yes! I, I mean, I will. I w-will see you soon!” Toshinori stammers out as he leaves with a wave. First that conversation, now this kiss!? He was sure one of the nurses were bound to pull him aside due to how loud his heart was beating in his chest. He finally managed to fight the furious blush across his face. It seemed he didn’t have to push back his hopes too much.The nurse was right, she was an adorable strawberry though. The lessons with Sensei were odd. Stressful too. He could never shake the feeling that one wrong move, or one wrong word uttered, and this fragile peace he found would be ripped away and he’d find himself pulled apart and put together again and again. Fa-doctor had gotten more short with him. He didn’t know why though, and he couldn’t ask because he wasn’t allowed.Sensei let him talk though, the small traitorous part of him whispered, he actually wants us to act human. He furiously pushed the thought to the back of his mind. It wouldn’t do to forget what the man has done to him, continues to do to him. He can’t forget that, he can’t.He feels the reverberations of three people coming to his cell, and gets ready. It isn’t the now familiar clack of Kurogiri’s dress shoes, but rather the stomps of the doctor and the orderlies.“R4-881T, you know the drill. Comply and make this quick” Izuku holds out his wrists and feels the world dampen as the cuffs suppress his quirks.
Not his, stolen.
They don’t lead him to the AQT rooms, nor to the Addition room, which is both a relief and worrying. This can mean its either another test against the Noumu. Or a treatment. He doesn’t know which scares him more.As the door opens to the room that they’ve led him to, cold metal table, instruments on racks gleaming and sharp, his stomach drops.A treatment it is.At this point the orderlies grab him by the shoulders, rather than the chain attached to the cuffs, and drag him physically to the table. Not that he offers much protest, he knows what would happen if he did.
And each time he felt more and more empty when the blades sang and he bled.
They shove him onto the table, banging his head slightly against the cold metal. He hides a wince as they start to restrain his arms and legs with the reinforced cuffs. The hospital gown was removed, leaving him in nothing but his briefs. He fights to keep his face blank, lest the doctor get angry at him again for pretending.
The pain is never imaginary though.
The doctor seems agitated, more so than usual. He’s barking at the orderlies to hurry, that they’re taking too long. Which is strange, because he always stressed perfection, patience. This about face and hurry seems odd, wrong. Though Izuku is hardly in any position to do anything about it. The restraints are more than capable of holding him no matter how desperate his attempts to escape are.He knows, he’s tried. All he had to show for it were raw bloody skinless wrists and ankles from where he tried to scrape his way out, and spasms from the prods keeping him up for the night.With the reinforced quirk suppressor restraints, his senses aren’t nearly as strong as they normally are, but he could almost swear that he hears two more pairs of rather distinctive footsteps approaching.“Can you imbeciles be any slower!?” the doctor yells at one of the orderlies, sparks and fumes escaping his mouth. “One. Simple. Procedure. Are you all fucking freshman at medical school with your first cadaver-”“My my, Hisashi, why the hurry? I could have sworn that you received the memo that our dear Dr. Nachreiner had planned an appointment with your little Izuku?” Sensei said, as Kurogiri opened the door to the room for him, a scared orderly standing to the side outside. The doctor stops, and for the first time in so long, or so long as far as Izuku can remember, he looks scared, or apprehensive. The room becomes more cold, and a shiver runs through Izuku, and it isn’t from the cold metal table under his back. “I could have sworn that I informed you to refrain from the muscle augmentation procedure until after Dr. Nachreiner could conduct her own tests. Surely this is just the result of some miscommunication, perhaps an accidentally deleted email?”“Y-yes, I’m sorry sir … just a, miscommunication.” he bites out, fists white knuckled and shaking slightly.“Thats good to hear. Now if you wouldn’t mind releasing the boy, I do believe he has an appointment.” Sensei looks calm and relaxed, but the feeling Izuku is getting off of him is anything but. Everyone can sense it, and the orderlies shake as they undo Izuku’s restraints. He hops off the table and stands before Sensei, head bowed and awkward. He can’t see where they put his hospital gown, and with the knowledge that a surgery will not be happening, his state of undress seems all the more awkward. Should he ask for clothes? But this isn’t Sensei’s room, nor it is the addition procedure, the only times when the man seemed to want him to talk. Sensei solved his predicament though, and snapped his fingers at one of the orderlies. “You, would you fetch the boy his gown” a not question that has the man scurrying to provide Izuku with a new hospital gown which he quickly puts on, grateful for the meager shelter it provides. “Do not worry Hisashi, I wouldn’t deprive you of your son and leave you with nothing for your schedule. I noticed that you’ve been rushing through my stock, and have been producing … less than desirable results.” The man seems to flinch, before he accepts the clipboard Kurogiri gives him.“V-Very well. I will not disappoint you sir.” He says after scanning through the form.“See to it that you don’t” Sensei says before Izuku is lead out of the room, the door clicking shut behind the three of them. Izuku falls in line behind the two as they walk towards what he knows to be Sensei’s office. Which strikes him as odd. Why were they going there, and not any of the other rooms? Sensei mentioned that he had an appointment? So it struck him as a bit odd that he was not being led to any of the rooms where a doctor would meet him.“Patience young Izuku, all in good time.” Sensei said, startling Izuku from his inner ramblings. The man hadn’t turned, and Izuku had made sure to internalize his thoughts, the doctor and the orderlies didn’t take kindly to him talking. It was unnerving, though it did verify one of his theories about the man. Ever since the second addition process he went through, Izuku had theorized over whether Sensei’s quirk only allowed him the ability to transfer quirks as he saw fit, or was something more. Quirk creation was thrown out, as he had overheard Sensei talking to the doctor about “acquiring” some interesting quirks. So, so far Izuku had mainly wondered if Sensei had access to the quirks they held. He nodded, despite the man supposedly not being able to see him, and hid a smile as the man seemed pleased.So he does have access to all of the quirks he has stolen.Soon enough they are at Sensei’s door, and Kurogiri guides Sensei and Izuku inside. The room hasn’t changed much if at all from when he’d last been in there learning about the finer details of opening moves in Chess. Though the woman, whom Izuku guesses to be Dr. Nachreiner, rifling through some of the bottles at the Island is definitely new. She’s dressed rather sternly, the white coat she had reminding Izuku of Fa-doctor.“Dr. Nachreiner, I would prefer if you did not disturb my selection. I had just restocked and organized it” Kurogiri called out, mild annoyance seeping into his tone. Izuku watched Sensei and waited. Sensei had seemed tolerant of Izuku talking and asking questions, but only when prompted, when Sensei desired something of him. It was never for nothing.
Everything has a price here.
How tolerant was Sensei in regards to behavior? Izuku didn’t really have a thorough reference. Kurogiri was obedient and subservient, and polite. There was hardly a chance of him irking Sensei. His doctor on the other hand, well, there seemed to be some tension, but Sensei lorded his position over the man, threats heavy in their implications. It seemed a constant of their interactions. This woman was an unknown, new data if you would. It would be interesting to see how this behavior would be taken.“Oh don’t worry Kurogiri, I made sure not to take any of the more, select few of your collection. Though this little meet up was taking a bit longer than projected, and I became rather parched, so who can blame me?” She replied, finally selecting a bottle and pouring herself a small glass of a syrupy amber liquid which she proceeds to drink down. “I take it that dear old Hisashi didn’t take kindly at me taking a look at his darling boy?”“Nothing that will not pose an issue in the future Dr. Nachreiner” Sensei says, striding into the room. “While I do not mind if you indulge yourself a bit, I do insist that you exercise restraint. It won’t due to have your skills impaired.”Izuku hears the unspoken “The only reason I hired you, the only reason I let you live.”“Oh I wouldn’t dream of it. Not when I have such a marvelous specimen” She replies as she walks up to Izuku. Izuku feels himself instinctively straighten, the habit beaten bloody into him long ago. “Compliant as well. Yes, yes, I think you’ll do just nicely” she said as she gripped his chin and forced his head at different angles as she dissected him with her eyes.“That is good to hear. Kurogiri, would you be so kind to make a door to Dr. Nachreiner’s facilities?” All for One asked. Kurogiri nodded and sure enough a dark purple mist wafted out of nothing to from a portal in the air. Dr. Nachreiner strode through without further prompting, probably already used to it. Izuku though, while he had seen Kurogiri’s quirk in use, it was another thing entirely to experience teleportation, and hesitated slightly. Which Sensei noticed. “Best not to lag behind, young Izuku. We don’t want to make The good doctor wait.”“You don’t want to test my patience” is what he really meant. Izuku nodded and hurried to keep up with Sensei's long strides, fighting back the fear as he got closer and closer to the absolute darkness of the portal. As he strode through the portal, he felt the surrounding temperature drop, felt all sound fade away, radio static made real, tangible, and crawling across his skin in way that set all of his nerve endings on fire. He wanted to stop, turn back. But that wold not be allowed. Sensei had not given him permission. Even the floor, or what constituted as a floor in this weird quirk, has no texture. While the hypersensitivity of Lepus Sense had been headache inducing at times with its constant influx of inane details and sensations, the absence of noise besides his steps, is worrying.After a few steps though the black soon faded away, revealing them to be in a rather busy hallway, very much different compared to the cold clinical halls of the Noumu facility. While by no means vibrant, the interior wasn't so ... detached. Several personnel had stumbled and startled at their abrupt entrance, a few unlucky ones going so far as even dropping their clipboards, files fluterring to the ground. Izuku wasn't used to seeing so many people at once. It was practically a mob compared to the few people Izuku was used to seeing in the confines of the facility that was his cell."Close those mouths, you're bound to get flies in them that way. Come on now! Chop chop! Time is precious people!" Doctor Nachreiner ordered, snapping her fingers and ushering a few on when they still lagged on behind. It was odd, seeing a working environment not steeped quite so much in fear. "Kurogiri dear, did you have to pop us in the main intersection for the records department?"Kurogiri gave a chuckle, "How could I not? It's always a pleasure to see your staff imitate headless chickens. Think of it as my repayment for rummaging through my collection." The doctor gave a huff before she began to lead them through the halls. Izuku's curiosity was eagerly eating up every new detail of the place as he followed the group. For the most part it was creme hallways and polished floors, doors that had nothing but numbers and acronyms hinting at what they held. Though there was one hallway in particular that held Izuku's attention, for better or worse. This hallway's walls gave way to clear glass windows into the rooms. Izuku wishes they didn't. In the room on the right the walls were lined with containers and tubes of various sizes, figures adrift in liquid stasis, some docile and still, others thrashing as people observed and operated pumps and machines that fed liquid into the tanks. Some of the figures in the tank looked fami-
No no no, don't think, don't remember, you'll only hurt yourself
He turned to the left to look, not wanting to break down in the hallway in the presence of Sensei. While the man has been...odd, he doubts the man would accommodate a show of weakness. The other room is worse in its own way. While the room on the right had tanks of people that looked like adults, or older children, this room had...wombs, for a lack of a better descriptor. Izuku could see hanging sacks of red orange fluid, with small, developing forms of chil-"Here we are, now if the patient would be so kind to seat themself on the table" Doctor Nachreiner called out. The room she led them to is large, occupied by various instruments, and what looked like an empty womb from the previous room. There is a table in the center, next to several stands of tools and machinery, a large lamp looming over, its intentions clear. Izuku swallows any nervousness he has and obeys. She stops him partway and holds out her hand, which makes Izuku pause for a moment before he remembers he's still wearing his hospital gown. He quickly slips it off and hands it to her folded over, which he sees her deposit it into a bin. The table is molded to accommodate him, so his back and hips don't ache so much. Which means that he's probably going to be stuck here for quite a while. Clamps extend from the table and lock him in pace, and the nearby machinery hum to life. An apparatus lowers from the ceiling, extending a face mask and tubing which she guides to his face. "It's an anesthetic. Breathe deeply, it should take effect soon."Izuku nods as the doors open and more personnel file into the room pushing various trolleys laden with tools, equipment, and supplies. Doctor Nachreiner had left as the people in smocks and face masks bustled around the room. After a few moments Izuku can tell the anesthetic is kicking in. The pounding of feet from the movement all around him no longer feels like a group of drum players horribly off beat, the cold sensation of the restraints and table not quite as stark against his skin. Soon the room begins to blur, and his eyelids begin to feel heavier. Before he slips away to the dark, he can make out the badly distorted figure of Dr. Nachreiner entering the room once more, clad in a blue smock and gloves, fitting a face mask on."Now then, let us see what secrets you hold, little rabbit." He wakes up in his cell, in pain, his head dulled and foggy from the drugs. The pain though is different from the times the doctor altered him, or when Sensei added a quirk. There is no pressure in his head, no sense of thoughts slipping through the many cracks that cover his mind. There are no expanding black marks from his spine, trying to aid in the process of healing what the man saw fit to change inside him.No, instead there is a sense of wrongness, of phantom touches from tools on his skin, a lingering sense of violation. Something different was taken from him, but he doesn't know what. Hisashi was cross with him, that, All For One knew. After all, he had undermined the doctor's authority in front of his staff, but the man only had himself to blame. He had, after all, tried to disobey All For One's direct orders in regards to Izuku. The fact that the doctor thought he could press to have his way humored him. He would be dealt with soon enough, however. So far the man had proven to be a waste in resources, only able to produce canon fodder, excluding his son.He thinks that Dr. Nachreiner proved to be a far more capable mind. He has high hopes, after all it had not been a week since he brought the boy to the woman's facilities for her own tests that they had started to bear fruit. Kurogiri had informed him that the good doctor had some interesting results from the samples they had acquired from young Izuku. So here he was, waiting in her office, in her chair of course, to bring her findings for him to see. While he waited he helped himself to some of her brandy that she kept in her desk, something Kurogiri took delight in judging from his chuckles. XO, hmm, not quite on par with the selection Kurogiri maintains, but decent nonetheless. Soon enough he could hear her footsteps from beyond the door."Oh good, you're here. Help yourself I suppose." Dr. Nachreiner said, before setting her tablet on the nearby coffee table, pining various forms and images onto the cork board hanging on the wall."I take it that the tests were fruitful doctor?" All For One said, idly pouring himself another glass."Fruitful? This is a damn leap! How in the hell is Hisashi just sitting on this!?" She replied, slightly manic and frustrated."How so?"The Doctor was frantic now, sorting the remaining documents into two separate piles, one of which she thrusted into Kurogiri's hands. "Those are the results from the previous Noumu's you've had me dig through. While Hisashi's procedure has allowed you to compound quirks on subjects without outright killing the them, the results have been less than satisfactory up until now, correct?""Yes, that is something we have been aware of, the human mind can only handle so many quirks without being designed at birth to handle more. Hisashi has been trying augmentation procedures to further strengthen possible candidates. It has had mixed results, with the odd few showing promise other than Izuku. These are all things we knew beforehand Doctor." All For One replied."Yes, yes. Though later that had me thinking, what if it is not solely due to that?" At this the woman seemed to falter before continuing, almost hesitant, though soldiered on before All For One could comment on it. "You wish to keep the inner workings of your quirk secret, and I understand, which is why the next few tests I performed were done solely by me, any files in the system I personally oversaw their purge." Kurogiri tensed, while All For One remained still, relaxed, giving way nothing. Give the subject a false sense of security and they're bound to stick their head into the guillotine themself and save you the trouble. "Although I do not know the exact science of how your quirk operates sir, I could reverse engineer the process of give and take. I am unaware if you had your quirk examined in depth before, so if you have any insight or information that contradicts my theory, please feel free to correct me. Your quirk doesn't integrate your amassed quirks into your biology, but rather compartmentalizes it for selective use. I theorize that the same can be said for the Noumu. Its a foreign body, a parasite if you will. And since the subjects biology isn't made to seamlessly integrate the quirks, the process gets ... messy" She hands the second pile to Kurogiri who proceeds to look through them with newfound intensity. All For One is silent throughout it all."The Noumu's don't produce the biological quirk markers of the implanted ones, they remain at a fixed cell count..." Kurogiri muttered."They still have access to the quirks you've implanted, but it acts more like a vestigial trace of your quirk, severely limited in their capabilities for multiple quirks. Which makes the boy's results that much more extraordinary" With this she hands Kurogiri another stack of papers. "Midoriya Izuku is by all standards, a normal quirkless child. Yet, for some reason, the quirks that you've imparted upon him were mutated, and actually became integrated into his genetic makeup. The boy actively produces the quirk factor cells of the ones you've imparted on him. What's more, his MRI scans show no signs of degradation of the cerebral lobe, or tumors, symptoms common in other Noumu subjects. Not only did Midoriya Izuku fully take to these quirks, but in some instances mutated and compounded them further."She dug through her bag before she brought out a small glass pressurized canister, holding an amorphous black green liquid. "One of the earlier quirks you gave him, Armordermis, gave the original user the ability to manipulate a second skin, with limited density and shape control. Enough to stop a 9mm bullet, but not enough to stand against anything of higher caliber or of anyone with a high strength augmentation quirk. Nothing more, nothing less.""A useful quirk, one of my better findings, if I may say so myself. You're point though? And I'm assuming you have one." All For One said. While he was interested in these findings, he did have a busy schedule. Players to monitor, webs to spin.Pawns to move."Nowhere in your observations and details of the quirk was it listed that Armordermis had sentience." All For One would have chided Kurogiri for how his head had snapped towards the canister if he wasn't as amazed himself."How so?""While the sample doesn't talk, its been wrecking hell on its containment cells, showcasing levels of critical thinking on par or more so than a Raven. Also, it knows where its main host body is. I've tested it by having it secured in some of our transport trucks and monitoring its behaviour. Even now it is leaning towards the direction of Hisashi's compound where Izuku is located. Which is 187 Kilometers away." She moved the canister from one end of her desk to another, and sure enough the liquid moved ever so slightly to point in the direction it was originally facing. "I also took samples from areas where Izuku would use Armordermis to coat wounds, and found vestiges of Armordermis within the tissue, strengthening it."The implications of this ... well, All For One couldn't let this go to waste now, could he? Not when the perfect template was discovered, the perfect tool to help aide his successor. "I think I've found a new purpose for your project Dr. Nachreiner.""I assumed as much when you asked me to take bone marrow and sperm samples. I already have twelve embryo's from the perfect batch of donors for the first trial. Coupled with CRISPR, I can tailor them to what you would need."All For One gave a nod, before getting two more glasses. The quality of brandy wasn't what he would usually serve on such a momentous break through, but it seemed fitting. "Then let us drink to this discovery. For your efforts, dear doctor. And to another step to a new age." As the aftertaste settled in, it felt right for the occasion. Not quite what he wanted, but just enough to fulfill what was needed.
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
"No! Stop it! Please! I'm sorry! Please just stop! I'll be good, I promise!" Izuku strains against the chains, despite the fact how it twists and tears the flesh on his wrists and neck, choking him and making him bleed. He has to do something! They're hurting them. They're hurting them! Hisashi looks unmoved, almost bored, as the room is filled with screams of the four poor unfortunates being held down, ripped and torn apart.
"That simply won't do. You disobeyed me. You broke out of your room. You tried to help these vermin escape. Why would you do that? We're making you rats into something more."
"I-I ... I'm sorry, I don't know. Please, I'll be good, just-"
"-Leave them alone?" The smell of smoke and brimstone fills the room and Izuku can't breathe. Every aspect of Hisashi becomes hyper focused, as if everything else in the room is blurred. "That is also another problem R4-881T. You misbehaved, you went against me. And yet, you're making requests? I taught you better than that."
Izuku takes in shuddering breaths, a sob edging at the back of his throat. He's made a mistake, he's forgotten his place. He's made it worse for them. "I-I-I'm sorry"
"You realize I'm doing this for your own good, don't you?" Izuku struggles to reign in his tears as Hisashi lifts his head to make him look him in the face. "I know it hurts, and it pains me to do this. Truly. But it is necessary, and later on you'll thank me for it." Izuku has to stamp down on the urge to flinch back as the man combs those hands through his blood matted hair.
It reminds him of how his mother used to do that, when he was sad or sick or afraid. Her touch would always calm him down. Hisashi's touch is a cruel perversion of that. It is full of lies and cruelty.
He stands up and clamps his hand around Izuku's head like a steel vice, forcing him to look at the sobbing forms of the four victims he had tried to help. "Don't close your eyes. I will know if you do. Finish it." The men standing over their bodies nod, and their deaths are anything but swift. No matter how much Izuku wants to, despite Hisashi's warning, he can't close his eyes or look away. Not when they looked at him with desperation and hope that he could still somehow save them, even when he has failed them terribly. Even when they finally still, and their eyes glass over, he can't look away.
"Remember this lesson. You don't have a choice, I make them for you."
He wakes up, the scene still raw and painful in his mind. For as much as his mind seems to let his memories slip away, others are burned into his eyelids. Never to go away. While he doesn't remember the names of those four children, he will never forget them. It's the least he can do.Over the past couple of ... days? He's seen his doctor less, and hadn't seen Doctor Nachreiner at all since that first meeting. Sensei had been ... absent for a while. While his lessons didn't follow a schedule per se, there were never really long moments between. He was still taken to training rooms to ensure he didn't degrade, and his meals arrived regularly. Maybe Sensei had said something about withholding his meals-
Stop it, stop trying to paint it like he cares. You're his investment, his pawn. The moment you step out of line or become useless he will rip away everything and leave you as nothing but a lifeless sack of flesh!
-regardless, he hasn't had much else to do, seeing as the treatments had been put off, for who knows how long. So he'd taken to examining and experimenting with the quirks he had. Armordermis was the oldest of the ones he'd been given, and the most familiar. It had proven to be one of the more reliable ones he had been given. He can't count how many times it had saved his life in the Noumu testing bouts, or when it helped him pull through a certain trial in the AQT rooms.It had also helped with the aftermath of so many procedures. When he was dumped back here, when he was still left cut and bleeding and raw from the operations, it crawled over him like a blanket , stifling the flow and letting him breathe. It still unnerved him greatly. He couldn't explain it. There were moments when the black second skin came at his beck and call too swiftly, as if it wasn't entirely at his bidding. Even now he was still finding new ways to utilize it. Like even now he had the odd sensation of the feeling of cold glass against his skin. Maybe they took some of the second skin from him, and he was feeling what the fragment felt? He could only theorize at this point. His spine did feel quite raw, though that was common after all the sessions he has had so far.Seeing as he has nothing else to occupy his time, and desperately wanting to distract himself from his thoughts-
Can't run from what we've done. Who we've hurt.
-he decides to test their limits. Once he worked his way past the revulsion behind the possibilities of what happened to the previous wielders of said quirks, using them was actually ... calming. Lepus Sense didn't have much else to offer beyond what he found the first few days he had tested its capabilities. He could stretch his senses pretty far, he could even hear outside of his room and into the next few hallways. Which shouldn't really be possible with all of the noise dampeners. Though it does have the nasty habit of giving him terrible headaches when he reigns in his hypersensitivity to touch and hearing after expanding its reach. He refrains from practicing with it too much. He's just gotten used to having regular meals again, he doesn't want to waste it heaving it into the toilet from quirk blowback.Coil Fiber was a quirk he couldn't really practice using. As far as he knew it was a passive mutation quirk that made his muscle tissue denser, and improved the rate at which his body recovered. While the staff put him through rigorous training to increase muscle mass, he would never be an All Might. After he was given Coil Fiber though, he noticed that his limits had greatly increased. He had tried numerous times to tap into the quirk, but had yet to produce any results. So he let it be for now.Retaliate had been an interesting one, but that one had been taken from him. So that left Armordermis to be the one he would experiment with. He calls up the second skin to coat his right arm in inky black, and forces down the panic of possibly never being able to pull it back and look like himself again. Once he manages to push that fear away, the second skin is ... comforting, in its own strange way. He remembers his...outburst during that training session with that horrible man, how he had shaped the tips of his fingers into claws. Recalling the sensation, he tries to replicate the effect. It takes a couple of tries before he's able to do it on all fingertips at once, but he does it. He idly tests it against the cold hard floor, and finds it dangerously easy to carve in a little furrow in the surface. It feels...layered. Not like he just produced more and more of the second skin, but rather that it was building on top on his first coating in particular shapes. Would it be possible to- All For One idly toyed with the canister. Dr. Nachreiner had already exhausted her options on possible ways to transplant the sample into suitable hosts. All attempts had rather grisly ends for the hosts, the sample seemingly agitated at their efforts. Sure enough when he brought it with him for Izuku's lesson, the sample turned more docile. His agents in the facility who'd been keeping tabs on Hisashi had informed him that the buffoon had refrained from testing his limits. Though there were some conversations he was having with some of All For One's finders that were...not incriminating per se, but definitely something to watch.For having such a narrow minded overconfident pomp of a father, the boy showed so much potential. Humble, cautious, inquisitive and insightful. The boy resembled his late brother so much it could have only been fate for him to stumble across Izuku. At least with this one, he could prevent him from pursuing the folly that this society perpetuated. After all, it was only fitting that his successor have someone else to stand by his side and help him along the way, like his brother should have.Ah, speak of the devil. He could already sense Kurogiri leading the boy to him now."Ah, Izuku, wonderful to see you again" He called out when the boy was finally ushered into the room. "Do forgive me. I had not intended to let your lessons be delayed for so long. There were matters though that required that I oversee to them personally. Enough about that though, how have you been my boy?"The boy was in a fragile mental state, mostly thanks to Hisashi, which served to only help his molding of the child so much easier. The boy's father had eagerly embraced the role of the iron boot without any prompting from him whatsoever, fully intent on breaking the boy to nothing beneath his heel.All he had to do was pick up the pieces and put the boy back together how he saw fit."I-I've been fine, t-thank you S-Sensei" The boy's eyes darted quickly to take in the room and quickly focused on the coffee table. Today it didn't have the hand carved chess set that had been present in all of the boy's previous lessons. No, today he had had Kurogiri set up Go."I thought I'd have a little surprise for you Izuku, and do things a little...differently today." It's amusing how the boy tenses ever so slightly at the word surprise. Hisashi made this far too easy."W-Will I be learning G-Go?"All For One grins beneath his mask. The boy has begun to wear his heart on his sleeve once he'd allowed him the opportunity to be human in these walls. Confusion and sadness warred on Izuku's face as plain as day."Not so eager to play I take it?""N-Not at a-all! I just...your lessons made i-it feel like...there was so much more I needed to learn."Ahh, there was that perceptiveness. His successor could learn so much from this boy. He made the correct choice today."Quite so. While you are picking up many of the finer details, and astoundingly fast if I may say so myself," he praises, and could see the boy preen before squashing it down,"there is still so much more to learn before we can shift to the intricate strategy of Go. That isn't to say though that I can't give you a basic understanding of how its played." He walks through the basics of the game, never needing to repeat himself as the boy is hanging on his every word. Once he's covered the basics, its time for the surprise. "For this lesson Izuku, you will not be playing. You will be watching a match between myself and a guest. When the guest enters, you are not to speak, or address them. Just. Watch. See how they play and why. When the game is done, then you can speak, and tell the guest what they did and could have done to win.""Yes Sensei." It feels so odd for Izuku to be the watcher in this lesson. He never has that luxury, to be so detached from what is actually happening. Well, not truly. he still gets the feeling that should his analysis of the match not be up to par to Sensei's expectations...it won't end well for him. With that in mind he mentally reviews all the aspects about the game that Sensei has divulged to him, determined to commit them to memory. He doesn't notice when Kurogiri sets down tea for three, or even that he left.Only when Kurogiri arrives with another person in tow does Izuku take notice. Mostly because he feels something very unsettling about the man...boy? He looks young, despite the dry and pale skin, so probably a teenager, if not early twenties. As he takes in the person's lanky form, unease starts to fill him, and its not because of the many severed hands that grip the person's form, or the slightly manic gleam in their red eyes. No, its the smell of blood wafting off of their hands, permeating the room with its coppery stench."Another lesson Sensei? Did it have to be today? I was having so much fun with the gift you got me. They sing so wonderfully with the right motivation" the person whined. The childlike tone was ill fitting for what he implied."Now now Tomura. Your pursuits can surely wait. After all, its been quite a while since we've last had a one on one session."The person, Tomura, seems to huff in irritation before moving to the offered seat."Who's this?" Tomura is startlingly fast, up in Izuku's face before he knows it. "One of the Noumu? A bit smaller than the rest. I thought most of them weren't ready, being brainless sacks of meat and all. Does this one not react to pain like that other one?" Tomura's hand is reaching out to Izuku's face. While he may have only known the person for all of a minute, it didn't take a genius to deduce that his quirk was touch based, what with the emphasis all of the detached hands all over his form. And that whatever his quirk was, it was very, very bad."Tomura." Sensei calls out, evenly but with the weight of a barked order, "you have the first turn.""You're not gonna tell me about 'em till after the game, aren't you?" Tomura whines. Sensei does not respond, but his silence is a loud yes. "Fine, fine, lets get this over with. You and your board games. Its always analogue with you.""Oh? I'm quite certain you enjoyed similar board games. You do frequent those online clients that offer those services.""Different. They're more....visceral than this.""Oh I assure you, this game can get quite bloody."Izuku is certain, despite the mask, that Sensei's gaze is centered on him. Tomura huffs, "We'll see" before making his first move. From then on Izuku squashes whatever unease he has and focuses on the game, on the time between moves, and on the players themselves. From Sensei Izuku learns very little. The man is closed off entirely in his body language, if not for the barely perceptible movement of him breathing, he could pass off as a really believable statue. He wastes very little time on his moves, but never gives off the impression that he's rushing.Tomura, on the other hand, is a much more easier target. He is very expressive, lips crinkling into a smirk whenever he gleefully encircles Sensei's pieces, or growling when his efforts are impeded. He also appears to have a nervous tick, if the fervent scratching of skin whenever he experiences a bout of indecision is anything to go by. Its such a stark contrast, the mannerisms of the two, that it makes Izuku's head spin.The game goes on for quite a bit, longer than the chess matches between Sensei and himself. Though they were more run throughs of scenarios rather than actual matches, so maybe he doesn't have quite such a good frame of reference. And while he doesn't have quite so much of an understanding of strategy for Go, it becomes apparent who will win and why. Tomura is an opportunist, quickly capitalizing on any small opening Sensei shows. And while he is content with those small victories, Izuku can see the web Sensei is spinning. Tomura cares little for his own defenses when he can press an advantage, and Sensei is making him bleed for them. The game finally comes to an end, with Sensei having a well sized lead ahead of Tomura."You're getting better.""Better doesn't change the fact that I lost.""True, but from each failure, with the proper bit of introspection, you can become so much better."Tomura gives out a huff, still looking quite bitter about his defeat. "Are you gonna tell me now why there's a stinking Noumu here? It's getting annoying with the whole 'watching us' thing its got going on."Sensei chuckles. "Sure, I do believe I owe you that much. Izuku, would you care to divulge your findings? What did you learn?"Izuku startles out of his musings on the match, quite nervous under the questioning stare of Tomura. Something tells him that criticism won't go over well with him. How to phrase it?"E-er, w-well, Tomura-san did do very well in the beginning. He made sure to exploit openings, b-but he didn't put t-too much in defense?" Tomura is staring at him with wide eyes, as if he had grown two heads. Sensei merely nods, an unspoken continue filling the air. "He was approaching it as if it was a series of...s-short battles? R-Rather than one long connected one. He also had a lot of p-physical tells? Fidgeting, facial expressions?" The room is silent, and Izuku can't help but feel that his answer is inadequate. "I don't know too much, so I-I couldn't see if there w-was a pivotal moment that could have c-changed the outcome.""Holy shit. Hisashi, motherfucking disappointing Hisashi actually made one work!?" Tomura pretty much yelled, leaning uncomfortably close into Izuku's space."Very good Izuku. You managed to touch upon all of the key points I had hoped you would" Sensei praises, and Izuku fights that traitorous part that glows at the praise of passing another test."You had him spy on me" Tomura hisses once the surprise melts away, sending Izuku a rather malicious glare."Now now, Tomura, I would hardly call it spying if you knew he was there. Having Izuku observe was solely for your benefit. You've reached a bit of slump. Of which is no fault of your own" He is sure to add when Tomura looks fit to shout in anger and indignation. "It is something I have been trying to correct, and have found difficulty in doing so. Having Izuku offer his input, from a detached perspective has proven rather insightful. It also helped serve for a lesson of his own in understanding how people tick.""I still call it spying.""Call it what you will, but I did it with the best of intentions, I assure you. Izuku has highlighted a glaring error in my teaching methods. While I have taught you all you know in overcoming foes and obstacles, I have mislead you into developing a tunnel vision of sorts to objectives. It is something I shall strive to correct in our future lessons.""Your teaching is just fine Sensei!""While I am thankful for your praise, everyone makes mistakes, my dear student. What matters is whether or not we learn from them." Tomura finally settled back into his seat, appeased for now, if looking slightly put out. "Thank you again for your input Izuku. I'm afraid that that will be all for todays lessons. Fear not though, I do have something that should help occupy your time until our next lesson. They should be waiting for you in your room. A reward if you will, for a good performance."At that Kurogiri ushers open the door, leading back to the facility, back to his cell, and Izuku follows. Only when the door closes does he feel a pressure lifted off of him, the steady silence with Kurogiri a comfort compared to the weight of unsaid expectations in that room. When they finally get to his cell, Izuku feels his breath knocked out of him at what sits on his bed.Books.Actual books.He reaches out with shaky hands, hesitant to touch them lest it proved to be some sort of cruel mirage. But no, they're real. He sorts through them carefully. Fiction, Non Fiction, Chess and Go strategy books, History Books, Modern Literature textbooks. There's too many, surely there's too many, they can't all be for him. They can't be."You did well today Izuku. Every good performance deserves a reward." He starts at Kurogiri's praise, almost forgetting that the man was still there."T-thank you" he manages to utter out with a nod, half remembered manners resurfacing."Think nothing of it. You earned them." And with that the door locks shut, and its still all too unreal.Izuku stares at the gifts, still too amazed that they're even real. Sensei really did-
NO
-he flinches back from the thought.
Don't forget what he does to you! Nothing he does is without purpose, nothing! Every olive branch is a lie! He will poison you with each kindness!
He wants to ignore the voice of reason, to just forget and enjoy the gifts. It's tempting, its all so tempting. To just stop fighting for what he once was and become whatever they wanted him to be. But he won't. Not while he still holds on to the memory of his mother, through blood and pain and nightmares.He settles down to read the chess book after some deliberation. No doubt his room is monitored, electronically or through some quirk's means. Refusing to read the books given would be the equivalent to spitting into Sensei's face, an insult. Its an insult he can't afford to commit right now.So he will follow their tune. He'll learn and be helpful. And he will watch for any gap, any opportunity he can.
He's close to the endgame, and his light is almost gone.
All For One sighs as Tomura resumes his nervous tick of scratching at his neck. He's been trying to teach the boy to break the habit. Its unseemly, not to mention possible skin infections that can arise from it. "Why such a small body? If we're gonna kill the symbol of peace he's gotta be able to match him for blows. Unless Hisashi was intentional with the Noumu's appearance as a fucking kid. Ooooh, appealing to the idiot's sense of honor by not hurting a child, how devious-""Tomura" he calls out, if he lets the boy continue, he's sure to try to go off of some half thought plan. Enthusiasm and vigor are good, but only when tempered with wisdom. "Izuku does show promise, but he will not be the tool to help you bring down All Might."His successor's frustration explodes. "Then why the fuck are you wasting time with him!? All Might is the biggest obstacle here! Nothing matters in the end if he still stands! Society won't change!"More evidence to Tomura's current problems, All For One muses, not seeing the bigger picture. How to make the boy realize it himself though?Ahh, that would work."You are right Tomura" he admits, and smiles beneath the mask as his student stares in shock at his admittance, "no matter what else we plan, if we can't bring down All Might, or at the very least destroy any trust the public has in him, then our goal is unattainable. But!" He is quick to interject before Tomura can interrupt, "In the end, All Might is only the first big step. Yes, he is an obstacle. A wall in our path. I can assure you that I have Hisashi, as well as other, more talented minds at work on countermeasures, our perfect 'Anti-Might' if you will. A perfect sledgehammer for an annoying wall."Tomura gives a sharp smile at the analogy, as All For One knew he would. "In terms of planning though, he is the simpler challenge, if high in cost, to deal with. Next comes dethroning the rest of the hero association through covert and public means, which will require careful planning and execution. A sledgehammer is fun to wield, but ineffective when trying to cut away the tumors and rot from a patient. Izuku has proven to be adaptable, clever, and resilient. He has already terminated eighteen prototype Anti-Mights from the Beta batch of prototypes. His success has already helped us shave off years in the Noumu process. Once we make him loyal to you, he will be your scalpel."He waits as Tomura seems to take this all in, fidgeting and scratching, as well as turning a few of the black and white stones from the board to dust. Quirk usage always seemed to help the boy think clearer."Of course, of course. Party balance. Anti-Might will be a tank, so a dex and int monster would make sense. Yes, yes, that could work" The boy grins. "Thank you Sensei for the gift, when would he be ready?""Soon, the boy still has much to learn. He is capable, but his mindset has a few aspects that need to be addressed" All For One admits. It had not escaped his notice that ever since the first Noumu combat test, where the boy had learned that he would die if he did not act, that he took steps to ensure that his opponents end would be as quick and painless as possible. Or that the only time he truly let go against a human opponent was when said person taunted on how they had brutalized the boy's mother. Restraint and efficiency were desirable traits, though only when unfettered by notions like mercy.Tomura scoffed, but nodded in understanding. Looking back over the board, the boy seemed lost in thought. "This was his first time seeing a game of Go?""A full game, yes. I had gone over the basics with him. Honestly, I had expected him to just base the result off of his observations in body language. The actual result was...well, a pleasant surprise.""Yeah..." Tomura muttered, before walking over to Kurogiri and waiting rather expectantly. Kurogiri sighed before opening up a portal for him. "Thanks again Sensei" and with that walked away through the portal. All For One sat and sipped the neglected tea, thankfully it had not gone cold yet."You do realize you've only made him curious about Izuku, and that he's bound to pop in at a whim and frustrate Hisashi correct?" Kurogiri asked as he put away the board game, and swept away the dust of the destroyed pieces."What makes you think that wasn't my intention old friend?" He chuckled. The image of Hisashi huffing against Tomura's whims was quite a funny image. "Tomura is at the stage where I can step back and let him fully plan operations. Though to do that, he has to recruit followers. If I just lend him mine, well, they will never truly respect him as leader, more so when he finally steps in as my successor. A leader has to instill loyalty and camaraderie just as easily as they can instill fear.""And you want him to try his hand at recruiting Izuku. Why not just ask him to?""Because then the boy would have the weight of my expectations on him, and an unseen deadline. Trust is something that is hard won, and can never be rushed. Twisted and manipulated, yes. But never rushed. Not to mention the boy emulates me too much. A student should never strive to be a clone of the teacher. By presenting Izuku as an irregularity, and hinting at his importance to our goal, I've stoked the fires of curiosity. Not enough to burn, but just enough to flicker. Izuku is an easy target already, the boy is desperate for human connection, but is wary, sceptical. I imagine the boy would be on edge around any adult figures. Tomura however, is young enough to just barely skim past that sense depending on how he approaches it. Not to mention the child is in a controlled space where he can't really escape interactions with Tomura." He sets the now empty tea cup on the platter Kurogiri holds out."Ever the manipulator. Any plans on breaking the child's...bad habits, as you put it?"All For One smiled as he recalled a few old hands in his business. "Oh, I have several ideas in mind for that." It was official, Gran Torino was gonna kill Sir Nighteye. As he sat in the hospital garden he wondered how in the hell that skinny ass of an old sidekick had managed to convince him to do this whole undercover spy thing. The man was more paranoid than a middle aged married woman concerned about whether or not her husband was cheating on her! He should know, he's had to deal with a few of them. The only upside was the fact that this technically counted as a hero assignment and he was being compensated accordingly for it. That and the scenery. Sure, he loved the district he was in charge of, but it was so hard to find much green to enjoy there.Still didn't take the sting out of what was essentially a waste of his time and contribution. He could be out sniffing leads for wherever All For One's assets hid away to. Making sure his idiot student didn't run himself ragged. And apparently making sure he wasn't "being manipulated" by a hospitalized grieving mother. Honestly, could Sir Nighteye be even more insufferably paranoid?He'd been here for the past few weeks under the pretense that he was in to check on a grandson (played along by one of Sir Nighteye's sidekicks with an age control quirk) recovering from a skin graft procedure after an unfortunate fire. It irked him how well the boy-man played his part, and the glee he found in calling him "Granpap."So far from all that he'd been able to observe of the woman, Midoriya Inko was rather...normal. Well, as normal as a mother could be in her circumstances. She was well liked with the staff and polite to a fault. There were no covert phone calls, no suspicious persons loitering around the hospital or near her. The woman didn't have much family left, none close enough to visit regularly, so her visitors consisted only of a woman by the name of Bakugou Mitsuki, whom he had looked up upon seeing them interact (not the best parent, judging by the files on her son, a bit of work that one), and his old student Toshinori. Honestly if Sir Nighteye thought that he'd be able to learn anything more when he had already scoured over the case and contributed personnel to monitor and protect the woman, then the man was starting to slip."Spending time with your grandson again?" the woman in question asked as she walked near them. Physical therapy was a pain in the ass from his memories, but the woman was bearing it with grace."Yup! Granpap brought me a gift too! He's my favorite!" the man-boy said, hugging Torino with malicious glee. "He likes to act all crusty and grumpy, but he's really a big ol' softy!" he stage whispered.
Oh, just you wait, when you finally turn back to your actual age...
"He must love you very much than. Do you mind if I sit with you for a bit? I've been getting stronger since surgery, but I find myself still becoming tired far too easily.""Not at all" Torino replied, before scooting over (and pushing a certain undercover sidekick a little too enthusiastically)."Thank you" she said as she sat herself down. The woman was a fighter, he'd give her that. He had seen the reports when she was first brought in, and he honestly had thought the woman would have been a goner. She broke the odds though. She fought and won."I'm gonna go play with the others! I'll be back granpap!" the sidekick yelled, before jumping off the bench and skittering away."Be careful twerp!" Torino calls out to keep up the charade...barely. Ms. Midoriya chuckles next to him."The young always do have so much energy. I envy that at times.""Hmph, I'd rather have sense. Youth these days act without thinking" he offers back. While everyone does tend to look back on their earlier years favorably, honestly, all kids were idiots, Torino would not like to relive those days."True, Toshinori always did say you were one who always put thought into your actions, Sorahiko-san"He has had several years of practice in the art of maintaining a poker face regardless of what is thrown your way. He's pretty good at it, he'd like to think. Still, he damn near loses it when the woman names him. For this entire time he's presented himself as Takahashi Riku. Not even the sidekick had let slip his hero name slip, let alone his actual name. It was also doubtful that she knew his name based off of seeing it in the news, even when he had been a hero in his prime. Back during his debut, Hero status wasn't so much of a popularity poll. They were still trying to establish some sense of peace, to worry about public favor seemed frivolous. How to weasel out of this though? Act affronted at being mistaken for someone else? Play senile?"My son liked to keep notes on heroes throughout history, as well as the current ones. I've taken to reading them when I can. Your quirk was...Jet? I think?" She asks. Well, saved him the trouble of finding a way out. He'd heard bits about the boy when Toshinori got a little chatty on coms about him to try to dig through any details that might help. Analysis books on quirks was one of the things mentioned. Taking notes on people that are plastered on TV half the time is one thing, to have found him, and information such as his quirk name before it became common place to make that public knowledge was no easy find. Though there was one other thing she said that had him curious."That dandelion talks about me?" Deflections have served him well, but something in the woman's smile tells him it won't pass by her."Yes, more so than you think.""Probably moaning about his training back in the day. Boy was a crybaby. Had to toughen him up" He grumbled. The boy had been all puff and bravado, until it landed him a solid punch to the gut. Sure enough knocked the hot air out of him. As well as his breakfast."I can hardly see how violence could be seen as a solution to help a grieving boy deal with depression" She replies pleasantly. But ohhh, Gran has dealt enough with Nana to know when pleasant words hide steel. This woman practically radiates it."Sometimes a man needs tough love. Builds character.""Or cements destructive habits such as a reluctance and fear to open up and discuss with others what's ailing them" she replies in the nicest you're a fucking idiot voice he's ever heard."Troublesome habits for a troublesome student.""I wonder what that says about the teacher then." Gran barked a laugh. Damn woman had a lot of bite to her. A vicious protective streak too. Though that shouldn't come as much of a surprise. He read the police report for the abduction of her son. There's a reason why you don't try to threaten a mother bear's cubs."I wasn't the boy's first pick for a teacher, wasn't the best suited for it. I was the only one left" He knew the boy had gone and revealed his real form to the mother when it was discovered that her son's disappearance was tied to All For One's criminal empire. Him and Nighteye had given the oaf an earful about it. She was a giant security risk, despite the promises and the NDA forms she had willingly signed. He just didn't know how much Toshinori had told her of the origin of his quirk. So he chose not to elaborate. She hummed in response, not agreement or judgement, just acknowledgement."Has there been a threat against me? You and that man from Sir Nighteye's agency have been checking in here regularly around the time I go for a walk in the gardens."Gran can only count himself lucky he hadn't been drinking anything at the time, otherwise he was sure he'd be choking right about now. While not an "underground" hero per se, he's done his fair share of infiltration and observation jobs. "How long have you noticed?" He asks."Since the second visit" She answered with a smile.Damn, found out that soon? "What made you wait till now to ask?" Because honestly if that were the case for him he would have asked the moment he found out."I assumed Toshinori would discuss the issue with me. Though since he seems oblivious to your activities here, that means its either something that could negatively affect his duties as a hero, or its based on a gut feeling that you or Sir Nighteye have that doesn't yet warrant any actions through official means.""How are you sure that Toshinori doesn't know? What if he's just not telling you?"He asks. Might as well dig for info that Sir Nighteye sent him here for in the first place while he's at it. She gives him a look, the look someone gives you when you ask a really stupid question."Have you seen him try to lie?"Well, she had him there. "There's a reason why he's public and not underground" he mutters in agreement. The boy can dodge and deflect awkward conversations and questions so well people forgot it entirely, something members of the National Diet would give an arm and leg for. Trap him though, in a situation where that's not possible? Well, lets just say that there's a reason why the boy has never won a poker game with him. He sighed in irritation, he hated feeling like the middleman. If Sir Nighteye was so damn paranoid he should come here and investigate himself. "Sir Nighteye is being worried over nothing if you ask me. Though in his profession, that's bound to happen. Right now he has the suspicion that some people may have an...unwarranted interest in this hospital." Inko nodded at the unspoken you are of concern due to this. The half truth felt sour as it left his mouth. The conversation lulled between them for a moment, and Gran felt unsure of how else to continue. Luckily he's saved from that dilemma with a new arrival."G-Gran Torino?" Oh man, Gran can't believe his luck, its Toshinori. Sir Nighteye said that he had personnel that would flag or stall Toshinori down while they alert him, so he can exit without issue, no one the wiser. The mother hen had been rather particular about that. Apparently some of their people were slacking, he can tease his former student later for the flowers he's holding as soon as he chews out -Wait.Flowers.Flowers for Inko Midoriya.How fucking off base could Sir Nighteye have been!? Oh, the man owed him so much right now, playing middleman between two love birds is not what he signed up for.Toshinori looked curious as to why he was here, and tried rather unsuccessfully to hide the flowers behind his back, as if he hadn't already seen the dork holding them. Honesty, Hydrangeas, Snapdragons, Calla Lily's, and Amaryllis? He had taken up gardening at one point, Nana called it a mid life crisis, and he knew most of those flowers meanings. Whether Toshinori knew would be a question for another time. Though judging how Inko's gaze turned fond at the sight of the bouquet, he was sure she at least knew their meanings."S-Sensei, didn't expect to find you here...is something wrong?" God the boy was still a hesitant mess when addressing him. He didn't miss the worried look over the boy sent Inko, as if she might have been injured further. Oh god this boy has it bad."Nothing really, your old sidekick being his usual paranoid mother hen. Managed to rope me in, nothing to be worried about though. You know how he can get." The boy seems to mull over it a bit, and Torino decides to steer the conversation elsewhere before he decides to call Sir Nighteye in a fit of worry and curiosity. "Flowers eh? Seems like you remembered some of her lessons after all. Well, at least you're not as hopelessly impolite as you were back then." As expected, Toshinori becomes an embarrassed, flustered mess, causing Inko to chuckle at the sight."An impolite Toshinori? I almost can't imagine it" She giggles."Surely an exaggeration. I wasn't that bad back then..." Toshinori almost mumbles at the end, as if not quite sure himself."Please, you used to curse so badly you could peel paint. I remember during your first internship your supervisor actually stuffed your mouth with a soap bar." Gran Torino chides. At that Inko is practically howling in laughter, and Toshinori looked like he wanted desperately for a meteor to hit him."W-well, as amusing as that would have been to see back then, I'm glad that you became such a kind gentleman Toshinori" Inko chuckled, Toshinori turning a furious shade of red at the praise. Gran Torino has to hold in a groan at the two very obvious love birds. It seems like he will have to witness their awkward flirting until he could find a moment to steal away and strangle Sir Nighteye for subjecting himself to this. He couldn't get away. Whenever he saw a moment to excuse himself, the woman included him or brought the focus to him. As much as he would have just loved to be rude or pull out the crotchety old man card, his mother raised him to be polite to women, and dammit those lessons stuck. By now it was getting late, and him and Toshinori had said their goodbyes to Inko as visiting hours hit a close.Now though he had to deal with Toshinori's worry, as the man had stuck to him as they left."Has Sir Nighteye uncovered a threat on Ms. Midoriya?" The blonde asked. Gran Torino sighed, mulling over how exactly to explain this to his former student. Before the revelation of the budding romance between the two, he would have just thrown Sir Nighteye under the bus and bluntly divulged of the man's suspicions. Now though, the blonde might not take it in the same way."It isn't something to worry about. You're old sidekick is looking for things where there's nothing." He settles on."Gran Torino, please" at that tone Gran Torino stops, he's never heard his old student sound so small, so worried. "I know we didn't get along most of the time. I know that I've disappointed you several times in the past. Everything you've asked of me though, effort, determination, honesty. I gave all of that to you. So please, please, don't lie to me. Especially concerning Ms. Midoriya. Especially if its somethings that I can help with."Dammit, that woman was rubbing off on him. The boy would never call him out on these things in the past. Well, looks like they are going to have this discussion, one way or another. He starts to walk to a bench near one of the bus stops on the corner that is empty."Gran-""I heard ya! Will you let an old man get a seat first? I may be able to toss you on your ass, but my knees are killing me right now." The emaciated man follows and takes a seat next to him, stare unblinking and waiting. "Sir Nighteye suspects that Ms. Midoriya may be an agent acting on that man's behalf, or at the least his cohorts, to ensure your distraction while they rebuild." There, he put it out there. Not so explicitly in the case that someone might hear, but enough to get the message across.Toshinori is silent, unnaturally so. Gran Torino would almost be worried that the man had stopped entirely if he couldn't hear his raspy breathing. "...What?"Oh man, Gran Torino hides a wince at how thick his student's voice was with betrayal and hurt. "If it helps-""How could he think that of her!? He was there, wasn't he? She was grieving, she was broken from her son being taken!" Toshinori rasped, looking like he was physically straining from using One For All out of reflex. "How could he-""I'm not trying to defend him" Gran Torino cut in, before he could get more steam in his rant. "But you haven't been exactly objective about this case. You've been making this case your primary objective, a retrieval one at that rather than-""Midoriya Izuku isn't dead!" Toshinori bites out."And how do you know? How do you know, Toshinori!" He snaps. He hates being the voice of reason in these instances. "He's been missing for over a year, you know as well as I that the first 48 hours are crucial to finding a missing person. Anything after that drastically reduces their survival chance.""It isn't unheard of though for people to be found alive after the initial 48 hour mark!" Dammit, Gran Torino has to steel himself against the hope he can hear in Toshinori's voice."Not unheard of, but it is rare. Rarer still that they are even some semblance of what they were before the abduction." Dammit, why did Toshinori have to perfect that kicked puppy look!? "You need to accept that possibility. Think of Ms. Midoriya. What if you continue like this, convinced that her son is alive? What if you find the body? What would it do to her?" The symbol of peace flinches at that, seeming all so much smaller. "You can't keep her hopes up like this. It's not fair to her in the long run."Toshinori has nothing to say for a while, and the silence ways heavy between them. A bus comes and goes before he could hear the younger man respond."...Is...is it so wrong, to want him to be alive?" His student asks. "The more she tells me about him, about his determination and wonder, I can't help but want to be that person that reunites them. I want to know them, together. Not this broken family they are now." He gives a sad chuckle at that. "What would Nana think of me. Sitting here wanting to do exactly the opposite of what she did. I could practically hear her. 'Our line of work is dangerous for those we love, when we hold them close.' What would I be, if I went against what she had taught?"It's worse than Gran Torino originally thought. Damn, to be so thoroughly smitten with this family."Nana wasn't always right" he admits, and Toshinori's head snapped up at that. What, did he not think that-oh. Well, she was his only mother figure. In that way it did make sense he supposed. "Yes, she did save her family from any possible threats, well, as far as we know. But at what cost? She never got to know her son, and his family, and their children. They never got to know her. All they knew was that she left them.""Why didn't you say anything about it?""Because it was her family, her choice. I did have some words with her leading up to it, but I would not rob her of her decision, especially concerning those she loved. Yes, I didn't agree with it, but I respected it. She wasn't wrong, but she wasn't right either." This conversation became so much more draining than what he had expected. "I'm not gonna discourage you from whatever this thing with Ms. Midoriya is. Honestly, she seems to have mellowed out your more stupid tendencies. Just, don't use this case as an excuse to be close to her.""I would never! I...I don't want her to think that way, to reciprocate just because she feels grateful that i found her son...or that I gave her closure." Toshinori sighs morosely. "If this....thing between us does happen, I want it to happen after, because she wants to. So for now, I count myself lucky to just have her as a friend."Gran Torino could only shake his head at his student's hesitance. Their mutual interest was as plain as day for him to see. "Good, or else I would have to kick your ass, as my responsibility as your teacher, and for Nana's sake as well.""Ha, you'd probably have to be content with burying my body after Ms. Midoriya was done."Oh Gran Torino didn't doubt for a second that if Toshinori crossed a line the mother could deal with him. She had that presence to her, just barely visible under her smile. Toshinori's smile slowly faded."Now if you'll excuse me, it seems my old partner and I are due for a conversation."
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
Izuku devours the books he is given. Its been so long since he's had the joy of reading that he finds it hard to stop, even if it is mostly essays and historical accounts. He is careful with it though, it didn't take long for him to realize that several of the textbooks he was given covering the quirk emergence and the creation of the hero industry were far more critical of today's society, its tone much more negative than his school's coverage of it. It is funny how his memory of people are so spotty, so fragile, but the lessons from school remain pristine. At least he hopes so, for if that is true, then the book's contents are worrying.
Another poisoned olive branch, another serpent to sink its fangs in his flesh.
Still, it won't do to leave those books untouched. Sensei may ask him details, or his thoughts on the matter. Failure to answer would surely lead to a punishment Izuku can't afford to weather. The Quirk analysis and theory texts are much more safe grounds, as there are no biases in proven medical facts, or at least ones that have gone through thorough vetting. He makes a mental note to compare if he ever gets the chance.
If.
He wants to say when, but more and more that seems like a fanciful dream. For a while he is left largely alone, only taken out for his allotted time to train. He hears less and less of the Noumu, though he wonders if its due to their production being slowed or if they've been moved somewhere else. Its by the second week, or at least what he assumes to be a week of time that has passed, that he's gone through the entirety of the books he was given. He wishes he had some notebooks and a pencil to help him remember everything. Though that wasn't likely.Especially since he had at one point stabbed one of the orderlies with a pen from their breast pocket in one of his more uninspired escape attempts.So he's resorted to rereading portions that he was still fuzzy on, reading it aloud at times. Its during one of these moments that he hears two pairs of footsteps approaching his cell...and something else.Wheels.Its a cart.Immediately his mind goes back to days when his doctor would bring the operations to his cell, as if to stomp on whatever sense of meager safety it afforded him. Before that fear had the chance to fully encase him, he heard a difference. There was no clatter or ringing of metal or scalpels on the cart, but soft, heavy thuds of something. Also, one of the sets of footsteps belongs to a set of dress shoes only Kurogiri wears.Curious.He picks up some of the stray books he's left scattered about and returns them to their pile in the corner. He had wanted to put them somewhere else besides the floor, but he couldn't really request for a bookshelf or anything from the orderlies.The door opens and Kurogiri walks in followed by an orderly pushing a cart...full of books.Kurogiri gives a slight chuckle, Izuku must have been staring then. "Sensei noticed that you've finished with the books you have. Since his next lesson has been a bit...delayed due to unforseen complications, he's decided to expand your collection." The orderly starts to unload the books in the corner with the rest of them."T-Thank you" He manages to stutter out. The first batch of books had been such an unexpected gift, such a treasure, that being given more made him feel lightheaded with euphoria. As it was he still found himself marveling at the books surprised that they didn't turn to dust at his touch."I must say though, we didn't quite think you would go through them so fast, or so thoroughly. Sensei is quite eager, Tomura never quite took to the philosophical aspects of the quirk emergence much. I imagine he will have much to talk about with you when he has the chance."
To test how much you remember, or if you actually read it.
"Of course, I...I can't wait." Its sad when the these brief moments of interaction are the highlights of his current predicament, even when they're mired with so many threats and tests left between the lines. By now the orderly has finished unloading the cart and the books in his cell have doubled in number."Then I shall leave you to your reading" Kurogiri follows after the orderly. "Oh, almost forgot." The man rummages in his coat before he pulls out a worn but well kept small paperback, and offers it out to Izuku. "I've read this quite a bit, and I think that it would suit you right now.""Thank you. I'll be s-sure to take care of it.""See that you do, I'll be sure to ask you your opinion of it as well." With that the two left, the door locking shut behind them, leaving Izuku alone once again. He still couldn't believe how much he was allowed.
He has yet to pay for it though.
He turned over the book in his hands, curious as to what Kurogiri could have given him. The cover's color had faded into a sun bleached yellow, though whether from age or exposure to the elements was anyone's guess. With nothing else to do, he sat down and began to read. "These are your latest hopefuls?""Yes sir, modified to your specifications as requested."Its moments like this when All For One missed his sight. Such a precious tool that was now lost to him. Granted, he had several quirks that had allowed him to gain some semblance of sight, but it would never be how it was. As it was he could make out the forms of the incubators, and the twelve developing forms encased in their artificial wombs. Though he couldn't make out their features. "Have they shown any signs?""We've already weaned them off of the supplements. A few were touch and go after we transitioned them out of the accelerated aging process, but they've since stabilized and are now aging at a normal rate." He could feel Dr. Nachreiner hand over documents to Kurogiri. "As they are now, we could start the command sequence and initiate birth if needed.""Projected risks?" Several of these subjects would be the only ones of their kind, being the product of several rather promising samples that had been difficult to procure. He would not waste them."Roughly, and mind you this is a generous estimate, 65% chance of survival. Per subject."That wouldn't do at all."And if we were to delay the birth?""If you would permit it, I could increase the chance of a successful 'birth' up to 90% if you were to grant us eleven months to further strengthen and monitor them."An acceptable trade off. What difference would a few more months make? After all, he had waited decades for this. "Consider it done. I have high expectations doctor. See to it that you don't disappoint.""Of course Sir. When have I failed you before?"He allows the woman some cheek, she's earned it. "I expect monthly reports on their progress. Before I forget though, did you test my theory?""Ah, yes. As always, your hunch was right sir." Doctor Nachreiner inputs a few commands in a nearby console, and a canister shifts. Most likely a reflective screen lining he muses, to prevent line of sight he supposes. "Sure enough, the sample has become more docile when in close proximity of the subjects. It has even split at various times to monitor each of the twelve subjects individually. Its frankly startling that it can detect a genetic connection to its host. We've been keeping it close to make sure that it doesn't destroy its containment cells. Unless you wish for a different arrangement sir."All For One smiled. "No, continue as you were. I'll decide what to do with it later on. How are the stem cell treatments going for the other recipients?""They are achieving a modicum of success. They're not nearly as promising as these twelve, but they've shown to have some awareness and have displayed minor critical thinking skills. The success rate has plateaued at roughly 58%. Far better than Hisashi's 35%, but I have higher standards and aim to surpass it. I must thank you for the most recent addition to my team. Their quirk will ensure we shall have a nigh inexhaustible supply of the boy's stem cells."More good news. With this, he can slowly but surely shift development tasks to Nachreiner's facility as his plans move forward. Hisashi's work will suffice for now, but his successor would require more competent tools moving forward."Good, very good." Before he left, he spared one last glance at the twelve subjects.
What beautiful children you've made, Midoriya Izuku.
Its been a few more days before Kurogiri comes to get him again, and Izuku has burned through the remainder of books. They had consisted of several fiction books, medical journals on mutation quirks and how they affect the subject's thought processes, and ... several poetry books oddly enough. The last few confused him quite a bit, being such an abrupt departure from the more grounded books. He read it though, he couldn't risk Sensei asking him about it and having to admit he didn't."T-Thank you again, Kurogiri-san" he says, holding out the book. The subtext of the gift didn't allude him. An account of the panic of Quirk emergence, and the rising influence of "Might makes right" spreading through the populace as people with more and more powerful quirks emerged. His world couldn't be that, right?
How many times did they hurt us for being different though? Is it still such a stretch when violence and power were all he knew?
"Did you enjoy it?"And suddenly Izuku knows this is another test when the mans yellow eyes are so focused on him, when it feels like every fidget is being analyzed.
Don't lie don't lie, you've always been terrible at it! They'll know, they'll always know! A stitch for every lie!
"I-It was...interesting. It was very different from the rest of the books I had to read." There, a truth. He fought to keep the panic though as Kurogiri didn't move or respond, he simply stared. Then after what felt like an hour, Kurogiri nods and the tensions dissipates entirely."I'm glad, I always found the book to be refreshing. Many people like to debate that it's relevance has lessened in the post quirk world, I beg to differ though. Now come along, Sensei is waiting"Izuku quells the anticipation of another lesson and follows the man's lead. He assumes that they will continue chess, or perhaps in reading people like last time. He just hopes it isn't with Tomura-san again. The man unsettled him. So he's a bit suprised when Kurogiri leads him past Sensei's door further into a hallway he doesn't recognize. The door Kurogiri eventually settles on is one the makes Izuku's stomach twist on itself, since it is of the same make as the doors for when his doctor wants to test a Noumu. He can only hope that it would be different. Kurogiri had said that it was another lesson from Sensei, and not a "trial run."Kurogiri ushered him inside, and for once it looked like Izuku's luck hadn't quite run out. Most evaluation rooms were bare, nothing but reinforced walls and floors. This one though was immediately different. half the floor was cushioned mats, like the old room where his old trainer would "teach" him, the rest was dominated by what felt like a really elaborate jungle gym, segmented and sprawling across the walls and roof, and sparring dummies. It was also far larger than most of the other rooms he's ever been into.Sensei is there, and there's someone new as well. A woman, dressed in simple workout attire, of bronze skin and brown hair with a few streaks of grey drawn into a tight bun, with intense grey eyes."It is good to see you Izuku. Now, for this next lesson I thought I'd fix the issue of your lack of a competent combat instructor. This here is Naima, a trusty associate of mine whose skill is second to none. She will take over your instruction in physical combat.""N-nice to meet you m-miss" Izuku stutters out giving a hesitant half bow. He doesn't know if she is one of the those that would punish him for speaking, but he hoped that formality would agree with her. She holds herself in a way similar to Sensei after all.She doesn't respond, and it makes him sweat as he can feel those grey eyes cut away at him layer by layer until the reach his core. After a few moments of him shutting down the urge to fidget under such scrutiny, she gives him a barely perceptible nod before she walks over to the mat, choosing one end of the circle painted on a portion of it."Show me what I'm dealing with" she calls out.A spar than. An evaluation from both parties as well, seeing as how Sensei has now taken a seat, Kurogiri having brought a chair over that had rested on the wall. Izuku swallows, his stomach practically twisting with the weight of three expectant, calculating gazes.
You're their investment. The moment you fall in value is the moment you are discarded.
He settles into the stance the teacher before had beaten into him. His nervousness only rises when Naima merely "hmms" in response to it. Is he already doing something wrong? Should he correct it before she asks him to? Usually mistakes are met with fists and end with him limping. It doesn't help that she hasn't even eased into a stance herself. Yet he gets the impression that she is ready to move in a moments notice, which doesn't help at all. He doesn't even know her quirk, well he knows it's probably an emitter, unless its a low grade mutation that can be hidden under clothes or--wait, where they expecting him to do this with his quirks or do it quirkless? His old teacher made him do it quirkless, though he suspected that that was out of a desire to flaunt the power dynamic between the two. If he used his quirk would he be reprimanded for it? He glanced over at Sensei, hoping he would answer his thoughts. Should he ask, or would that be-"Do not be afraid to use the gifts I gave you Izuku. Naima wants to see what you can do. To do anything less would be insulting, wouldn't it?" Sensei calls out, almost as if reading his thoughts.
Something he may very well be doing, the better to make a pawn know their place.
Shelving that troubling thought for later, Izuku calls forth the black of Armordermis, coating his arms and legs in the flexible armor. He dampens Lepus Sense, overstimulation would only hurt him here, until he found a method to reign in pain feedback from it. The only change it drew from Naima was a slight narrowing of the eyes.He guessed he would have to make the first move after all. He couldn't disappoint. Naima's build was much more lithe than his former teacher. So grappling and holds were not off the table. Though without knowing her quirk, he'd have to adapt on the fly. Well then.He darted forward as if to go for a low jab before dropping to the floor and using his forward momentum to go for a sweep kick. Naima darted over it before retaliating with an axe kick, forcing him to throw himself to the side. Getting back up he barely had the chance to throw up his guard before she was upon him in a flurry of bows. While she didn't have the bulk of his previous teacher, or the ferocity of the Noumus, she still held quite a punch. He figured if he wasn't using Armordermis his arms would be extremely bruised by now.She kept up the pressure slowly forcing him back, he had to change this fast. He ducked under one of her hooks and pulled her into an overhead throw. It would have worked, if she didn't tuck and roll into it, grabbing him in the process and flinging him down to the mat hard, knocking the wind from him. He didn't even have a chance to react before she was on him, wrapping his right arm in a painful hold between her legs, wrenching it away from his torso and straining it against its socket. He couldn't move, her legs had him pinned, and the pressure was increasing, and he couldn't get a good enough position to get leverage or land a blow.
Think think think!
That could work.Recalling his earlier attempts, with his free hand he forms the bladed claws and digs into her calf and twists. The response is immediate and the woman releases her hold and backs off, no worse for wear despite her leg bleeding noticeably. While her face wasn't really expressive, Izuku got the feeling that she was pissed.His right arm still smarts, and she knows, because she's merciless, landing blows on his right, bruising ribs and lower torso when he isn't fast enough. Everything about her movements are economical, ruthless, and right. Every reaction, every counter he tries to make is rendered useless. As if she can see them ahead of ti-Huh.He throws a jab at her face and looks, really watches for her reaction. Before he's even extended his arm she's already moving her head just enough to avoid the blow, eyes attentive on his arm. Specifically his shoulder and elbow.Gotcha.In that split second he calls up the second skin along the edge of his fist to extend and flatten like a knife edge, just enough to make her bleed. Naima steps back out of his reach, and for the first time, actually smiles, just the faintest hint. "Looks like I lost the bet."She rushes in with such intensity and fluidity that it isn't long before Izuku is constantly backpedaling, trying to maintain some form of defense. She manages to sneak in a rather brutal punch to his kidney that has him wheezing. At the reaction she shifts her focus, forcing him to guard his unarmored core. Even then though she sneaks in some blows that hurt.
Use us. Loosen the shackles. You know we can win.
He ignores the voice, no matter how tempting it is to listen. He had once, in a moment of weakness, and the result had been permanent marks of the second skin stretching over his body, never to recede.He doesn't want to lose more of himself here. So the voice will have to contend itself with his arms and lower body for now. Not a moment too soon as the instructor chooses to deliver a kick right between legs while he's reeling from being clocked near his ear. Almost on reflex the second skin expands and meets the blow. It still hurt and was uncomfortable as all hell, but he wasn't on the floor in a fetal position spewing out his stomach, so there's that. His lack of an extreme response takes Naima off guard for a moment, which he is sure to capitalize on before she can react. Locking her extended leg between his thighs, he twists and uses his weight to knock her to the floor. He reshapes the skin around his legs to sharpen to help gain leverage and twists.Naima is on him though before he can do any lasting damage or incapacitate her, forcing him to break off and back away unless he wants his skin to be black and purple everywhere.They're back again at a stand off, slowly circling each other, waiting. He presses forward, determined not to let her regain her momentum.
I can't disappoint.
"That was enlightening" Sensei calls out from his chair.Izuku feels like he should get up, and tries for a bit, but his arms aren't cooperating. Things had been looking good in the spar for a while. He hadn't been anywhere near gaining an edge to win, but he had at least felt like he had been meeting her blow for blow. Then it all changed when her stance shifted drastically. There were these light jabs that Naima had thrown that just made him lose sense of feeling, made him sluggish.
He didn't like it.
So until he gets feeling back, he's content with knowing the taste of the mat.Naima comes back and sets a water bottle nearby. "So. You aren't complete garbage. Your form is atrocious, but you have a good sense of adaptability. You're not the worst student I've been trusted with. You should get feeling back in your limbs in two minutes. Take sips when you drink. Otherwise you'd barf, and then I'd make you clean it up with your tongue."Izuku barely manages a nod in his state. Two minutes to get his breath back, that's something at least."That was certainly a good attempt Izuku. Now tell me, what did you learn about your new instructor?" Sensei asked.Izuku swallowed some of the blood that had been pooling in his mouth, hoping he could speak coherently at least. "H-Her quirk is probably sight based. Though I d-didn't get a chance to test if that's true or merely within a r-radius. I thought prediction, but then she would have k-known that I c-could make my second s-skin sharp. P-perhaps its only in t-terms of the a-actual b-body. Or maybe, s-since because of h-how I got my quirks it doesn't c-come up?"From what he could see of Sensei, he got the impression that he was "looking" at Naima rather smugly."To be fair he didn't actually figure out all of it" Naima said, and Izuku could have sworn that he heard a bit of...defensiveness in her tone?"Though he was still able to operate on that limited information and develop countermeasures in the spur of the moment." Oh yeah, Izuku could definitely hear the undercurrents of smugness in Sensei's voice. "Your theories are in the right vein Izuku. Naima's quirk is Ball Joint, She is able to see the most probable ways a person would move as long as she has them in her sight. It is restricted to movements that involve muscle and bone. So things like whips, hair, or your armor, do not fall into that category. Despite that limitation, she's taken that and has molded herself into one of the most capable martial artists in this current age. She will oversee your training once a day until at which point she deems it unnecessary.""That will depend on him, if he can even get near a passable state." Naima called out while she dragged over several sparring dummies."That is true. Though I have a feeling that he won't disappoint." Sensei replies as he takes his leave. The unspoken he can't disappoint fills the air around Izuku. "Business calls, so I shall take my leave. I look forward to seeing your growth, Izuku." Kurogiri opens a portal for them and they are gone in the blink of an eye.Ever so slowly feeling returns to Izuku's limbs, and he picks himself up from the floor and fumbles with the water bottle's cap. His whole body felt like it had fallen asleep, numb, tingly, and disconnected. He barely had the chance to take a few sips before his new teacher called him over, to begin the first lesson. "Initial reports have placed three armed guards for the shipment. All of them have obscured faces, so we don't have positive ID's on them in regards to their quirk, but at least one of them has a mutation type due to the bulging forms of their forearms. Expect some sort of strength quirk, that seems the most likely."Shouta gave a quick two taps in his comms in acknowledgement, not wanting to risk being overheard from his perch. By all accounts this should have been another shipment of knockoff Trigger from China exchanging hands. Something felt wrong about it though. For one, even taking into account the rice bales that were being used to hide the contraband was not proportional to the weight required to make the truck's suspension creak and strain that much.While trailing this shipment, he had picked out three different vehicles that had tailed it discretely at different points of its journey, added security. Something that a single shipment of Trigger hardly warranted. Curious still, this shipment had gone from the Port of Tokyo, and unless he was mistaken the truck seemed to be heading straight to the Port of Yokohama. Hardly the route one would take when wanting to shuffle it along domestic distribution routes.He was starting to feel the strain of the chase, and oh how his sleeping bag called to him. Running off two hours of sleep was doing him no favors. He retreated a short distance away, while the three guards got back into the truck, one in the passenger seat and the other two in the cargo compartment, another form quietly joined him on the lip of the building."Checked the perimeter. If these boys have any other hired muscle, they're better at hiding than us, which is unlikely." Shouta didn't spare his teammate's provocative attire a second glance, far too used to her eccentricities since attending school with her. Kayama Nemuri, or Midnight, passed him a bag of...candied espresso beans? Oh well, better than nothing. He nodded in thanks while trying to keep his munching to a minimum. Ugh, yeah no, couldn't compare to the coffee Hizashi made. He's deeply regretting not snagging a thermos before heading out on this task. "Plan of attack?""They're gonna be going past a section of the city that's mostly deserted with a few squatters here and there. There's a highway overpass, we'll drop from there and hope one of them doesn't have an infrared or echo-location quirk. You subdue the one's in the cargo hold while I convince the driver to make another pit stop. Local police are on standby.""I do love being on top" she chuckled."You're incorrigible.""You know you love it.""I tolerate it." He stuffed the rest of the beans away for safekeeping. He'd have to start keeping a few spare ones in his gear. It beat suffering caffeine withdrawal. "Come on, we better get into position." The two of them took off before the truck started off on its path, still keeping a watchful eye out in case any hidden elements of the group joined up with the truck.So far was good though, the few people they spotted were just a few wandering homeless, and the odd car here and there. The two of them soon set themselves up under the highway overpass, taking care to make sure that they were well obscured in the shadows. Now to wait for the right moment.Soon enough, they could hear the rumbling of the truck. Shouta tensed, coiled like a steel spring, waiting for the right moment. Nemuri was much the same, and while Shouta could feel the slight nerves that he always felt whenever he was jumping into a possible combat scenario, he could feel Nemuri's excitement at the prospect of combat. Sensing their chance they leapt, both of them rolling into the landing with nary a noise. Nemuri darted to the back of the truck, keeping low to make sure to not be seen in the side view mirror, and popped a condensed capsule form of her quirk through one of the ventilation slats. In about a minute the vapors from it would make short work of the guards inside.Shouta quietly crept into the gap between the driver and cargo. The guard was fiddling with his phone looking through some rather risque photos, the driver nowhere near the calm of his guard. Suited him just fine. Counting to sixty, he broke through the back view mirror, grabbed the guard's head and slammed it into the dashboard with enough force to daze him before wrapping him in his scarf and slamming him into the side of the door, knocking him out of the fight. The driver screamed and jerked, causing the truck to swerve slightly before Shouta thoroughly encased him in his capture scarf, and with a slight tug puppeteered the man to bring the truck to a calm stop. Checking the unconscious guard for any weapons or devices (a knife, phone, and some cigarettes were all that turned up), he dragged the man out before using a pair of quirk cuffs to lock him to the vehicle, and did the same for the driver. He signaled for the police on standby to close in."All clear on my end Midnight, how about you?" He asked, she was being unusually quiet."Er, Eraserhead. You...might want to come see this."He quickly dashed to the cargo door. The two other guards were already firmly secured and neutralized, so that was one possible worry factored out. The inside of the cargo looked...much more packed than the initial loading suggested. Strange, but not a point to worry over. "What's the issue?"Nemuri beckoned for him to come closer before waving her hand towards the extra cargo when...her arm looked cut off. She then walked in deeper, completely disappearing. Intrigued, Shouta followed and almost stumbled at seeing what lay beyond.There were cells, reinforced, with large, humanoid figures now sleeping in their cages. Misshapen heads, blue blackish skin, exposed frontal lobes. Something felt...wrong about them. Six cells, each with similar but slightly different creatures."They were using a projector field to hide this section away. The guards all had dart guns, they weren't here to guard the cargo. They were here to make sure the cargo didn't get out of hand" Nemuri remarked, pointing to some of the cells that withstood significant damage from the inside. Damn, the bars were each a third of a meter in diameter. To really damage that... "This is more than just a Trigger trafficking ring Eraserhead.""...shit..."
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
Toshinori tried to reign in his excitement as he said a hasty goodbye to Inko, promising to visit again soon. While he would have preferred not to cut his visits short, the call he just received might yield some hope for his case. After doing some brief mental math on the time cap he had for One For All, he decided that he had a bit of time to spare, and bulked up and leapt for his former school. While a call from Nedzu wasn’t all that uncommon, the principle hadn’t quite given up on him taking up a teaching position after all, the subject was not the normal job pitch. “Toshinori, when you can, as soon as possible preferred, could you come to the faculty meeting room on the second floor. Several of my employees have stumbled upon a rather concerning discovery in their work that may tie into your case. I’ve already forwarded the details to Sir Nighteye’s office, but I feel that this is best discussed in person due to the…nature of it. And not to worry! All those involved are those that have already been informed of your state. We will wait for your arrival Toshinori!” Leave it to Nedzu to decide on his course of action without letting him get in a word on the matter. The fact that Nedzu was insisting that Toshinori drop everything and come, and all he received from Sir Nighteye was that the files were delivered and secure in his home, no mention of importance or insight. It shouldn’t be surprising. He had burned their working relationship to the ground with their…debate on Inko’s innocence.There were so many ways he could have handled that conversation better. He didn’t think how his decision to continue carrying the torch would hurt his old friend.
That was a lie. He did know, he just hoped selfishly, like a coward, that his old friend would let bygones be bygones.
Soon enough U.A’s campus comes into view. Luckily he still held onto the pass Nedzu forced on him several years ago and bounds over the security wall with no hassle. Once safely inside the building he reverts back to his normal form and walks down the familiar corridors to his destination. While it has been several years since he attended the school, he is proud to say he only made two wrong turns on his way to the meeting room. After knocking, the door is promptly unlocked, and he lets himself in. There, seated at the table are Nedzu, preparing tea as always, Aizawa Shouta, a man who he does not know personally but has heard of his cases, and has a healthy respect for the man’s work ethic, and Kayama Nemuri, whom he’s worked with in the past. “I apologize if I’ve made you wait.” “Not at all, not at all Toshinori! I must say, the change in style suits you! Much more clean cut. Now please, sit” Nedzu says, waving him over to one of the vacant seats. Its then that Toshinori realizes that in his rush here, he forgot that he was still in the collared shirt and slacks he wore to visit Inko.Fighting to keep any mortification hidden he promptly takes a seat. At the very least he remembered to leave the flowers he brought in Inko’s vase.“My my, a Toshinori without cargo pants? What could possibly be the occasion?” Nemuri teased, leaning in with a smirk.“I hardly think we’re here to discuss the man’s dressing habits. Could we get on with this? Some of us have three jobs to juggle” Aizawa cut in before Nemuri could really start to dig in.“Shouta, you only have two jobs.”“Yet it feels like for some of these knuckleheads I also have to be a dad.”“Oh please, its in your nature to parent.” “Moving on” Nedzu announced after giving each of them a cup of tea. Toshinori could only sigh in relief, Nemuri, while not a gossip, was still prone to nosing into others private lives. “Eraserhead and Midnight were intercepting a shipment of Trigger from China a week ago. The drug has been seeping its way onto the streets at an alarming rate. They were able to dispatch the shipments guards with ease-”“Naturally” Nemuri boasts, until Shouta whacks the back of her head with his scarf in a reprimand, “-Hey!”“-and upon inspecting the convoy, discovered a much more…troubling package.” Setting aside his tea for now, Nedzu taps away on a tablet, bringing up a projector on the far wall. On the wall are what Toshinori assumed to be live displays of six…individuals in heavy restraints in high security cells.“Am I looking at a sextuplet of a mutation quirk?” He asks. If so it is a rather ghastly one. “That was our original thought. Its not uncommon in the black market to have specific mutation quirks in demand” Aizawa answered. “However, upon securing them and questioning them, they’ve proven to be hostile and unresponsive. We were forced to take samples to identify their quirk factor and comb through quirk registries to hopefully identify next of kin. And that’s when things became complicated.”“All of the six subjects tested positive for multiple quirks. All of those that they tested positive for, all families contacted had been unable to identify the six as relatives. Though all did report a deceased or missing family member, some as recent as twelve years ago.”Like that Toshinori’s stomach sinks to the floor, and it feels like his heart has stopped for just a brief moment. The room is stifling, too small and closing in around him.
No, no no no NO! He couldn’t have survived that! He had ended their struggle, ended him! He buried his morals in that one moment to stop his mentor’s murderer!
“Toshinori?” Nemuri called out, yanking him back into the present. He idly noted that it seemed he had destroyed the arm rest of the chair under his grip. So much for restraint. Taking a shuddering breath he attempts to recollect himself into some semblance of calm. “How much do they know?” He asks, feeling so much more tired. After all this time thinking that he’d“We know enough to know that this is linked to a villain that was responsible for your injury” Aizawa supplies, his tone neutral. Leaving it up to Toshinori to decide whether or not he wants to divulge more. Immediately he is grateful for the choice. After the brief lull, Nedzu continues. “I understand that this is a lot to dump on you Toshinori. For that I am sorry. However, this is not the only reason that I called you here for. Since a quirk registry search proved to be fruitless, we then resorted to DNA testing, and with this new information, looked for any possible matches among those listed as missing. Three of them rang up matches.” With a few taps, the display changed to show three mugshots of the six individuals, matched with the images of two men in their early twenties, and a woman that couldn’t have been out of college. “The others are spotty matches at best, but these are the most solid ones we have. Another interesting thing of note, is that all three of these individuals were diagnosed quirkless. I feel it is safe to assume that once we turn up matches for the other three, they too will be from quirkless individuals. ”Then suddenly this meeting makes sense, and Toshinori feels like he could be violently sick right about now. Quirkless. Dear god one of those could be Inko’s son.One of those things in those cells could be Izuku.Oh god how could he tell Inko?“I need you to be calm about this Toshinori” Nedzu said, patting his arm. When had he moved? “I can guess at the cause of your distress, but much like how you tell the citizens, don’t give up just yet.”“You’re the ranked number one hero, act like it. Or god forbid Endeavor will have to smile” Aizawa scolds, much to Nemuri’s mortification.“Shouta!”“What? We’ve just stumbled upon the biggest clue the man’s had in his case for years, and the first thing he does is break down over what ifs?”“That still doesn’t-”“No, he’s right” Toshinori cuts in before the argument has time to gather steam. Izuku’s fate is still up in the air, and after all, Nedzu did say that the other three did not ring up any matches amongst the missing persons reports under which Izuku’s case is filed under. “I shouldn’t just assume and jump to conclusions. I’m sorry. Thank you though, truly, for this information. Do you have any information on which groups the shipments were intended for?” Aizawa pulls up a folder and passes it over, and fills him in as he browses.“The shipment wasn’t heading directly towards any existing groups as far as we could pry. It was supposed to be distributed amongst several middlemen at a meet up point in Saitama, though shortly after nearing the outskirts of Tokyo, the shipment made a detour that put it en route to the port of Yokohama. One of the guards had received a call at one of their fueling stops, which probably resulted in the change of plans. Whether it was due to a deal going south, or that they were some how tipped off on our pursuit in unknown.”“The phone call?”“Nothing turned up, the location of the call was from an old phone booth near a train stop in Chiba. Their cameras were experiencing issues for a 10 minute interval due to nearby maintenance on some power lines. We’ve combed through the footage available, but nothing.”“Shit.” The curse slipped out on habit. Flipping through the files, he looked up the profiles of the men they had in custody. All were small time from what they had on file, no real heavy hitters. Several small time thefts, a few cases of assault. None of them though were linked or even from the same prefecture, which ruled out using them to locate the source of recruitment. Dammit, there was so little usable information here. Still, he couldn’t deny that this would drastically help him change the angle of approach to his case. “Regardless, thank you for what you’ve found. Seeing as how our cases seem to have aligned, might I offer some of the findings of my case in the event they can help you in your efforts? I know most of it may be horribly outdated-”“Nonsense Toshinori! We’d be happy for the intel, and would be glad to help” Nedzu squeaked in excitement.“Agreed. This case got a lot bigger than you can hope to cover by yourself in your condition.” Aizawa grumbled in agreement before Toshinori could say otherwise.“It’ll be like old times Toshinori, without the awkward pissing contests Endeavor always used to start” Nemuri teased.Despite everything, the hints of the possible horrors Izuku could be facing right now, his near destroyed relationship with his old sidekick, Toshinori manages to smile. Maybe, just maybe, things are taking a turn for the better.Just maybe he can save this boy. “Again!”Izuku’s lungs are on fire, his body torn and weighed down by what feels like soo much lead. He’s been at this for what feels likes hours, being drilled through various katas, being lead through various exercises that push his flexibility to their absolute limits, to the point that it feels like his ligaments will tear and he’ll flop bonelessly to the floor. When he finally though he was done, his new instructor pulled him over for sparring.Its been going swimmingly judging by the blood he can feel swelling in his mouth. As much as it is tempting to for once be stubborn, and just refuse to rise, he knows he can’t. He has to be obedient.
He has to jump when they tell him to.
He gets up slowly, but settles into the stance Naima has taught him earlier. Unlike last time, this spar is quirkless, at least for him, to focus on his grasp of the moves she has been teaching him. So he’s been having to fight without many of his tools of improvisation on his side. Against an opponent that can pretty accurately predict how you’re going to move, he may as well be telegraphing his attacks. Though he’s not exactly in a position to protest.He darts forward, sending a few probing jabs to look for blind spots, but he’s nowhere near lucky. He makes sure not to over extend his reach, that’s just asking for a hold or a throw to the mat. As he’s learned rather painfully before. He darts back and away from a sweep of her leg, and dives back in aiming at her throat. Naima easily deflects the blow and sends him back wheezing from an open palm strike to the chest that rattles his ribs. He blocks the follow up strike and aims to strike the back of her knee, which she promptly avoids, giving him some much needed space.Undeterred, he leaps in with a round house kick to her head. She blocks the blow and graves his leg in an overhead throw. The first time it had happened he had been sent into an undignified sprawl. Now he rolled with the impact, bouncing back up and back stepping out of her reach. A few seconds is all the relief he gets as she comes back in, aiming to strike just where his new ears start. A new weak point that they had stumbled upon on accident, and on his part, rather painfully. He ducks, and has to swerve out of the way as she brings up her knee lest he want his nose broken, again. Just when it looks like the match will have to draw out long before he can find an exploit, she slips, just a slight thing. Disorientation that couldn’t have lasted more than a half second. He’s been trained by her to react in less time, and rushes in eager to make the most of it. Her grin is all the warning he has before she catches his fist and clocks him on the side of the head that makes his vision spin a bit.
Dammit dammit dammit dammit! An obvious feint!
He feels more than sees her shift her grip to his shoulders to bring his gut slamming into her knee. He can’t avoid it, so he steels himself for the hit. When it slams into him, driving the air out of him, he bites back the pain, looks into her eyes, that smirk, and slams his forehead against her nose.The brief realization flickering across her eyes before impact is so satisfying. She can’t move fast enough, and he’s rewarded by a satisfying crunch as her nose breaks. She lets loose a stream of swears he doesn’t understand, and knocks his head around hard.He strikes back with a kick to her overextended side, slipping in under her arm and slamming into her kidney that has her hunch over briefly in pain.
Threaten the injuries, exploit the weaknesses!
He throws a jab at her face. Normally , the move isn’t worth it as an error could lead to broken fingers. Punching with those hurt. Still, a tender broken nose being further caved in is extremely painful, so she blocks the blow, obscuring her gaze from his legs, which he had been banking on. Her stance is just wide enough for him to slam a knee into her crotch. A move that he was assured was painful no matter the genitals of the opponent. Naima nearly drops to her knees from the pain. That’s the closest he’s ever gotten to winni-oh god she is pissed and is probably gonna murder hi-He blacks out after three punches, a kick to the gut, a knee to the chin, and getting tossed onto his back from a teeth shattering uppercut.He comes to lying on the mat, his face and jaw feeling incredibly sore. Naima is there sporting a bandage across her nose, something he takes a little bit of glee in from his current state of pain. How did the woman become able to hit that hard? If he didn’t know that her quirk was Ball Joint, he would assume that her quirk was something along the lines of steel bones. “Better, but still not good. At least you’ve forgotten most of the bad habits that meat head instilled in you,” She said begrudgingly, dabbing her face with a bloody towel.
Because you made sure it was a matter of survival.
He does not voice the thought, even as the fading bruises stung slightly at the memory.
She easily intercepts his right hook, and moves so fast he can barely process it before his face is smashed into the mat, her heel driving his face into it harder as she wrenches his arm back painfully. He tries to struggle until she wrenches his arm further back, sending pain coursing through him, leaving him whimpering on the floor.
“How many times do I have to beat it into you, niñito?!” She scolded, grinding his face further into the ground with her foot. “You have to strike! You are not a slugger! You do not overpower, you outsmart! You will never be All Might, or any other of those hulking meat heads! You will never be as tall as them, as massive as them, as strong as them! You have a brain, do you not?… I said, you have a brain,” She twists his arm further with each word, “Do. You. Not?”
“Yes!” He cries, desperately twisting to try to alleviate the pressure tearing at his shoulder. Dammit, these are all things he knows no matter how much he would like to forget.
He’ll never be All Might, never be like the heroes he’s looked up to all his life.
He’ll never be big nor strong enough to be safe.
“Then use it!” She hisses, releasing her hold and kicking him away. “Use that brain that that man praises. Use that brain that has kept you alive up until this point. Now, again!”
“Go on, wash up. You’re dead on your feet, and as much as I would love to drill more into that head of yours, seeing you go sloppy is insulting.” She waves him off towards the shower stall, something he had not noticed the first time he was lead to this room. He gave a thankful half bow before rushing off. It took everything he had to not just slump in relief after finally dragging himself into the hot shower.Its strange how, despite the pain, these sessions were something that he had started to look forward to. With his previous instructor, the sessions could hardly qualify as lessons. It took some serious observation to take away anything useful from the beat downs. Sure, instructor Naima didn’t hold anything back, but at least she made an effort to teach him. No matter how…questionable some moves were. He hopes he never has to resort to crippling someone to get an edge in a fight.He wondered what made her go into this form of life, what events made her adopt such methods. She was a rather hard person to read. She wasn’t entirely devoid of body language tells, like Sensei, but she wasn’t a near open book to read like Tomura. He could count the distinctive body tells from her on his hand, though there was that odd nickname…The nickname, “niñito,” she had almost looked surprised after she had called him that though. It was one of the clues of her history that he had managed to get off of her. He vaguely remembers days he would spend studying languages, he had gotten decent at English and had looked towards others to study on. He was quite sure it was Spanish, though whether she spoke Latin American Spanish or Spaniard Spanish it was hard to say, especially since after that she made sure to stay strictly to Japanese. Though to be fair, he had just started learning basic vocabulary back then, he doubted he would be able to identify it even if she spoke more of it.Also unlike his previous instructor who always treated him with hate, condescension, and cruelty, all he feels from Naima is a sort of … complacency. Which is refreshing, there’s no double meanings, no unspoken threats, all her feelings and expectations laid bare. Well, there are those brief moments were something else from her peaks through, dare he say, fondness? Perhaps that name was an endearment?
She will turn on you, hurt you, just like the man who takes. Let us protect you. We will hurt them back!
He shivers at the voice creeping in the back of his skull, pushing back against the outstretched hands reaching from the dark of his mind. Something is wrong, he had only heard the voice once long ago…he believes at least from what he could remember. And now he’s heard it a third time, the last two in no less than a few days. Is something going worse? He thought he handled it, locked it so deep it would never crawl to the surface.Especially after the first time he had been so desperate to actually listen to the voice.He hadn’t killed that Noumu.No, he had tortured it.Ripping it piece by piece, reveling in the power, in the screams. He pushes back the memory, he just showered, he doesn’t want to spend the next few minutes cleaning up puke from the floor. Not to mention Naima would be pissed if he made her wait longer. After drying and getting dressed he returns to find that Sensei and Kurogiri are here. It strikes him as a bit odd. Sensei had made it a point to oversee the first few sessions he had with Naima. It had left him a nervous wreck wondering if he’s fulfilling the man’s unsaid expectations. Eventually though, he stopped showing, but continued their separate lessons. He still remembers the “reminder” Sensei had given him in regards to Naima’s lessons.
He hastily reevaluates his strategy as Sensei doesn’t rise to the bait, ignoring his bishop in favor of moving his knight further, threatening to bypass his pawns. He’s gotten better at Chess over the past couple of lessons, though he’s by no means any closer to actually beating Sensei. He’s just able to see more of the logic behind the man’s moves.
“I’ve enjoyed seeing the progress you’ve displayed the past few lessons Izuku. It is a wonderful thing, to see your students grow” Sensei remarked as Izuku moved his queen in what he hoped would make him last four more moves.
“T-Thank you, Sensei” He fumbles in response. Praise felt so foreign that it always left him feeling off kilter when directed at him. It shouldn’t affect him so much, especially coming from Sensei, not when it hides such deliberate intent. Sensei looks at the black queen’s new position before making a move Izuku didn’t account for, threatening him with the newly moved rook. .
“Indeed, and you’re making such headway with Naima.” Izuku’s retort to the move was handled swiftly and brutally without a moment’s hesitation. “While I do enjoy overseeing every aspect of your growth, I’m afraid I will not be able to sit in on your lessons anymore.”
“O-oh” Izuku has to fight to keep the relief out of his voice and expression. The focus the game demanded helped him in that regard. He made his move, taking away one of Sensei’s pesky knights, assured it would buy him a few more moves at most.
“I am not worried though, you have exceeded all of my expectations wonderfully.” Then just like that, Sensei makes his move, “Check,” and now Izuku is on the run, trying to get out while not being led along to Sensei’s whim. He hopes he puts up a valiant effort, though in the end it doesn’t matter. “That is checkmate, if I do say so myself. Now, back to the topic, I’m not worried Izuku. After all. You haven’t disappointed me yet .”
It took everything Izuku had to make sure that his legs didn’t shake as he was dismissed and led to his room.
“Ah, Izuku, Naima here was just informing me of your progress” Sensei calls out, Kurogiri standing off not too far from Izuku's two teachers.
Keep calm don’t puke.
“H-hello Sensei, Kurogiri-san” He called out, trying to keep his ears from twitching. Even with the shower, he should have been able to hear Sensei and Naima talking, much less them entering the room. Which either said that the shower room had been soundproofed to an alarming extent, which seems odd, or that Sensei has various quirks at his disposal that allow him to negate Lepus Sense’s range. The worry of not knowing whether or not Sensei is disappointed or not eats at his insides.Sensei looks him over, and Izuku instinctively straightens up just slightly under the man’s gaze. “You’re managing the sensory feedback better I see. Just a few days ago, these injuries would have rendered you out of commission.”Izuku realizes that even with the shower, he must still look quite the sight, black and purple bruises mottling his face and body, almost blurring with the black creeping across his skin. “Er, y-yes, Sensei.”“I’m glad. Unfortunately Hisashi has been unable to find ways to circumvent that nasty bit, Dr. Nachreiner as well. My own searches for adequate additions have been…unfruitful as well. I am sorry that I have not been of much help in that regard. Though I am proud to see you working harder despite it.” Just like all the times Sensei praises him, it twists uncomfortably in his chest, the two halves of him fighting over whether to bask in it or disregard it.“T-thank you,” he stutters in the end.
He has to hide his hand, he has to play along.
“Kurogiri will escort you to your room, I have a few more books that I think you will enjoy reading,” Sensei says, before turning back to Naima, a very obvious dismissal. Izuku nods and walks over to Kurogiri, who ushers him out the door and down the now familiar hallways back to his room.
Cell.
Sure enough, there is a new stack of books waiting for him, nowhere near the amount the first two deliveries had been. Though still substantial nonetheless. “Thank you, Kurogiri.”The man’s eyes crinkle in what Izuku has learned to be what passes for a smile, the man’s quirk not giving him much in the way for discernible facial expressions. “Not at all Izuku. Though I do wish Tomura shared your gusto for reading,” he huffed. Izuku tried not to twitch at the reminder of the unsettling protege of Sensei. “Enjoy your reading,” he said, before closing the door, locking shut with a heavy metallic click.Walking over to the pile, Izuku picks up the top book of the pile, wondering what topic Sensei picked out for him.“Human Anatomy and Physiology Post Quirk Emergence.” Naima has done many things in the span of her career. She’s snuffed out so many lives that she stopped keeping count after the first three months into this calling. She played it smart, and learned from the mistakes of so many others that she saw fall before heroes. She killed herself, her identity, her history, everything. Nothing was left to dangle over her, to sway her. She made sure that her clients knew her rules, her limits, and the consequences for trying to push for more than they payed for.No mothers.No children.For the most part, her clients abided by them. With only a few over the years trying to force her otherwise. Her mother used to say that idiocy was a plague, a sickness. In that case she was the doctor, and made sure to cut out the festering mass from the world. This recent job though…Something about it rubbed her wrong. The money was good, very good. But she wasn’t a teacher. Or at least she never considered herself one. The few students that she did take on never fully understood her lessons. Their graves stood as a testament to that. So when her current boss approached her with the job, she laughed. Or at least, she wanted to, but you didn’t live as long as she did in this job without learning who would let such displays slide. This man was not one of those. Then he provided an initial figure, and well, she couldn’t say no to that, could she? Still though, child soldiers didn’t quite sit well with her. Midoriya Izuku, that was the boy’s file. Or as his father insisted, “R4-881T.” There was something about the boy that …unnerved her. It wasn’t the boy’s modifications, no. She’s stared down some of the Noumus face to face without flinching. It probably was because of the boy’s upbringing.The boss was thoughtful enough to provide her the tapes of his previous “lessons” in combat as well as past tests. Once she was able to swallow her disgust over his previous teacher’s horrendous form, she finally had been able to realize what made her so uneasy about teaching him.For some people, the fight becomes everything. The thrill, the adrenaline high, flirting with death becoming so much more fulfilling than any physical tryst. It was like that for her, though she knew when to temper the desire with sense and restraint. She saw none of that in the boy. Instead she saw fear, concern, reluctance. The only two exceptions being the first Noumu test and when his old teacher had taunted him with the fact that he injured the boy’s mother. Though even those displays of raw brutality were offset by the guilt she saw the boy go through in his cell during the aftermath. As if that wasn’t enough, there was one more thing. The boy had eyes like her nephew Ramiro. Midoriya Izuku would never be the stone cold killer, the monster in the dark that her boss wants. Though how to tell him that without the man associating it with a failure on her part, now that would be tricky.“It seems Izuku has gotten over his reluctance to use ‘dirty’ tactics,” The man said with just the barest hints of amusement coloring his voice. She huffs in irritation at the stinging of her nose and the phantom pain of being kicked in the crotch. She hadn’t been expecting the boy to pull off a stunt like that until three or more lessons.“To some extent. There are still a few that he has refrained from incorporating into our spars.”“Well then, I look forward to seeing his progress. Here, let me fix that,” Without waiting for her ok, the man’s hand darts out to touch her bandaged nose, glowing a faint gold. Naima has to bite back a few choice swears as it feels like her nose is being rearranged, painfully. Then like that, it is gone, and she can breath again. Sure enough, the bandage is now pointless.“Thank you for the warning. How handy” She hisses, feeling her nose to make sure that yes, it was put back correctly.“I felt it best to do it quick, rip the band aid off, if you will. A recent and useful acquisition.” The man walks to the mat where their blood is still very visible, splatters here and there, thrown about like a Jackson Pollock painting of old. “Though judging from your statement, would you say that Izuku is experiencing a few … roadblocks in his development?”“The boy doesn’t have a cruel bone in his body.” Well, might as well tackle it head on. The man always seemed to detest walking around the subject from those under his employ. Quite hypocritical considering how much the man tends to do it himself.“Which is why I hired you.”“No, you hired me to teach him how to win a fight, using whatever means necessary.”“And how is that any different from the issue?”“The difference,” Naima stresses, “is that even if I made our spars lethal, the boy is still going to see it the same way. As a situation out of his control. He will be reacting, rather than acting on the situation. Whatever methods I teach him, he will not use them because he wants to, but rather he believes that he has to.” The silence stretches, and for a brief moment Naima fears she may have been a bit too candid with the man.“...I see. Forgive me, it seems that I’ve gotten a bit too used to teaching restraint with Tomura that I’ve forgotten the need to instill that abandon in the first place. An error I will be sure to rectify. Yes, yes,” He seemed contemplative, at least she assumed so what with his mask. He walked away towards the door where his servant Kurogiri waited. “In the meantime, continue the lessons as normal, though do avoid anything too … debilitating in the next few days. I can’t have the boy exhausted before I give him my surprise.”
"We interrupt your regularly scheduled programming to bring you this breaking news! As of 9 am this morning, seven pro heroes were found missing from their homes. None of the residences showed signs of a struggle, and all were from different prefectures with little to no involvement with each other. One thing they shared in common, was that each home had a message attached to a flash drive, stating 'With this, I confess my sins.' The police have nothing to say so far as the investigation is still ongoing. Initial assumptions have these cases pinned on the elusive 'Hero Killer,' though seeing as this case differs from the criminal's usual M.O., that assumption seems very unlikely. We will update you viewers as the investigation continues..."
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
It was when the orderlies made him go right instead of continuing down the hall did Izuku realize that today’s lesson would be different. It wasn’t towards Sensei’s room, nor was it towards any of the facilities his doctor uses. He tried not to flinch as he caught the cries of some of the others held in cells, those that still remembered. They must be nearby still. He had naively hoped that the doctor had stopped, that the ones they made were just enough for whatever demand Sensei had. “Please...” “N-no more….” “...can’t...”
Don’t dwell on it, don’t don’t don’t. You’ll hurt yourself, you’re in no position to help anyone! Least of all yourself!
Following the lead of his handlers, they soon left the whispers only he could hear behind. It didn’t comfort him much. Eventually they reached their destination, Naima standing beside a door on the right, looking even more colder, which set off alarm bells in his head.
Did he do something to displease her? Was she still mad about the knee to the crotch? Was his form getting sloppy again?
His worries were quickly dismissed when he noticed her ire seemed to be reserved to the handlers. “It took you long enough, I could have had him here and not wasted what time I’m allowed,” she said, the bite in her words blatant. “It’s protocol. You’re not one of the ones approved access to R4-881T’s cell,” one of them managed to cough out after some hesitation. Though if he was expecting that that would quell any of her anger, he was sorely disappointed, as her eyes grew only colder. “Leave.” Like that the two handlers left him, trying to restrain their gait to a brisk walk, though he could hear them pick up the pace once they turned the corner. Naima could tell too, judging by the fleeting smirk on her face. “Stubborn, for a bunch of sheep. Hurry up now,” she ushered him into the room, which was far smaller than what he had come to know as his training room. It was barely double the size of his cell, bare except for what looked like a … school desk and chair? And a projector. Had it not been the lack of windows, the room’s location, and Naima herself, he could almost imagine the room fitting in at his old school.
At least he thinks so.
“Today’s lessons, and the next few lessons will be much more...theoretical compared to previous ones. Granted, I still expect you to practice your forms and keep up on your regimen.” He gave a nod of agreement, before following her lead and seating himself at the lone chair. “For your past few lessons, I’ve been teaching you the basics of how to fight and how not to become a red smear in an alley. At the core of this, has been adapting, identifying weaknesses, and exploiting them. We’ve only scratched the surface and you still have much to learn.” With a click of the remote, the projector hums to life and shows a film clip of what Izuku could only assume is a pro hero in action. Its not one that he recognizes. “This is a pro hero by the name of Justice Cuff. His quirk is elongated limbs, they don’t lose density nor weight when expanding. His fighting style consists of a mix of Russian Sambo, Judo, and Boxing. Many of his forms you will likely recognize, having practiced some of it yourself. I want you to pay attention to his movements and strategy.” She plays a few recorded fights of him apprehending criminals, and Izuku pays careful attention as he realized this is yet another test.
Failing one never bodes well.
He has to fight to refrain from tapping his fingers as he mentally catalogs the hero’s approach to every situation. Oh, how he missed having journals. After what feels like ten minutes of pouring over fights, both official and unofficial, if the film quality is anything to go by, Naima stops the feed. He tenses, waiting for the test, hoping that he didn’t miss anything. “I’ve taught you to read an opponent’s stance, and to exploit any flaws in their form. One thing I have yet to cover with you is to exploit the flaws of the mind. People are shaped by their experiences, and those that refuse to acknowledge that, their body language will tell the story.” She clicks the remote again, and Izuku is treated to a close up of Justice Cuff getting his right wrist crushed by what looks like a minor mutation quirk, possibly enhanced grip strength judging by the rather prominent enlarged tendons and forearm muscles. The scream isn’t pretty. “Justice Cuff got careless, and as a result was out of commission for two months. Four weeks healing, and another four weeks in physical therapy. These are the fights after that incident. Watch. Closely.” Izuku stiffens and makes sure to take in everything from the footage, not willing to let a single detail slip by. Naima didn’t need to say it to make the threat clear. Failure will not be looked on favorably. For the first minute, he wonders what he should be looking for, Justice Cuff’s general strategy didn’t deviate much from before. What was he-
Oh. OH.
The realization hits him as he sees the man jerk away from an attack on his right side with more haste than necessary.
Analyze. Exploit.
Justice Cuff prior to the injury didn’t have a static leading move. Right or left didn’t matter, the man might have been ambidextrous, though he didn’t have nearly enough information to back that theory. Post injury though, he sees it. The hesitance whenever he leads in with his right, and in grips that use his right arm as an anchor there is a tension, a fear. He keeps the opponent to his left and hastily tries to re-position when they edge in on his right. He can practically hear the man’s teeth grinding when the situation doesn’t allow him that safety net. There is a strain to the smile, to the smugness. The man had been humbled, and didn’t like his vulnerability. The video ends, and Naima waits expectantly. He hopes that this is the right answer. “He’s...he’s hesitant to start on...he’s hesitant to start with his right,” he starts looking at Naima for a cue, a reaction that he answered wrong. At the lack of judgment, he continues. “Before he didn’t use...didn’t have a preferred method of contact. Now though, he always, a-almost always leads in from his left. He...hesitates when he needs to use his right side, use his right hand.” Naima doesn’t say anything for a while, and Izuku is left feeling even more exposed than when his form has gotten sloppy.
Did he focus too much on a single aspect? Did he fall short of her expectations?
“Keen eye. Yes, the man wears the injury plainly, and allows it to effect his abilities to perform. The man dropped 45 rankings in the polls and had his jurisdiction downsized by a quarter. Let us move on.” It should be pathetic how that small compliment seems so precious. He has little time to berate himself the slip as Naima has already started another clip, her gaze challenging, almost daring him to fail.
Analyze.
Exploit.
“I still don’t see the point of all this. It reeks too much of do-gooding,” Tomura grumbled. All For One held in a sigh, while his successor was making strides, he was still prone to bouts of childish impatience. To be fair though, he did give him a rather frustrating task of finding dirt on members of hero society that supposedly had clean records. “The point, my dear student, is to set the groundwork for All Might’s inevitable fall. People can be stubborn, and if we do not start to plant the seeds of doubt about society, there is the very real chance that when you finally mount that gorilla’s head on a pike, the masses will merely dig in their heels in defiance… and no, I don’t mean to imply that they would possibly be able to stop you,” he cuts in as soon as he ‘sees’ his successor bristle, “after all, they’ve blindly put all their trust in that man, on the single beam holding up their entire world view. What I want you to take from this, is just that it would be…wasteful, to not act accordingly to prevent that.” He could hear him grumble and mutter in annoyance, before catching up to match his stride. “...Fine. I guess there’s some sense in that…was never a fan of side quests…can I at least toy with some of them?” Ah, there’s the enthusiasm. “In due time, in due time. While you’ve mastered the more physical methods of deconstructing a subject, this will also be a lesson for you on the more…subtler means. After all,” he chuckles, thinking of Midoriya Izuku, their diamond in the rough. “Words…can kill.” Toshinori went over to the police station to check in with his old friend Naomasa. The past few days had been productive for the case, the staff at U.A. while focused towards their teachings, were by no means slouches on groundwork. Gran Torino had adapted rather well to collaborating with the staff. Well, with just one exception… Gran Torino had always been … a bit traditional in terms of dress and modesty. Granted, he would never be one to shame someone for how they dressed. Regardless, Toshinori knew that he would not mesh well with Midnight, who spat in the face of all those “norms” of how a woman should hold themselves publicly. He was just glad that it was Eraserhead and not him who had to eventually break up the argument on the comms whenever they acted in conjunction. Their recent trigger case had been a bust, just a dealer panning a home brewed narcotic that functioned as a high strength analgesic. Still, they had been able to determine that the case was a bit more than just a man working from a garage lab. Nothing to compare to the more established groups or god forbid, the Yakuza. Though still, it was best to nip this thing in the bud before it could gain traction. The last thing they needed were people with strengthening quirks thinking their latest high granted them invincibility, rather than in actuality letting them ignore the damage they were committing to their body. The police station was a flurry of activity, with officers running to and fro and a small crowd of journalists waiting by one of the entrances trying to grab statements from officers, on duty and off. It took him a bit longer to avoid the crowds, only really relaxing when he managed to find the hallway leading to his friends office. Luckily his “Mr. Yagi” identity was well known amongst the officers by now to allow him to avoid any unwanted attention. After avoiding colliding with some poor soul carting around half their body weight in files, he finally found Naomasa’s office. Rapping out a knock on the door frame he let himself in. “For fucks sake, please tell me its not another one comi-oh, Yagi-san, sorry, I uh…thought you were someone else,” Naomasa blundered after his initial outburst. Toshinori was equally taken aback. Naomasa was never the type to curse, he could count the number of times the detective had throughout their entire friendship on one hand. Something must have really rattled him. “Is everything okay?” he asks once he’s closed the door and settled himself in the only other seat in the room. Naomasa looks to have a quick internal debate, before letting out a weary sigh, looking like he aged a few years in the blink of an eye. “You’ve heard about the ‘confession’ case right?” Toshinori merely nods. It had been blasted all over news stations across Japan. A cold case from the start, some news stations were calling it. Seven pro heroes, gone, without a trace except for the flash drives left at each residence with a note to supposedly confess. No signs of struggle, no fingerprints, nothing. There was a bit of debate amongst the masses on whether or not it was a kidnapping case, that maybe these seven had faked their deaths for tax evasion, and similar lines of thought. “I’ve been keeping up with it vaguely, I’m sad to say I’ve been a bit preoccupied with the latest lead in Midoriya’s case that I haven’t been following it too closely. Have there been difficulties?” “Yes and no,” Naomasa sighs. “There’s almost a wealth of evidence for the case, just not the evidence that the higher ups want.” “What do you mean?” Naomasa seems to mull it over before getting up and locking the door to his office, which in itself is alarming. Only after closing the blinds on the glass windows does he go sit back down. At this point he has all of Toshinori’s attention. “The higher ups at HPSC are pressuring us to resolve this quietly.”
HPSC, the Hero Public Safety Commission? True, it must have been worrying to have esteemed members of the heroes workforce to suddenly go missing, but why the secrecy? Why could they possibly want the police to-
“The evidence is incriminating towards the heroes missing, isn’t it?” Toshinori asks, the realization hitting him with all the weight of one of Gran Torino’s kicks. While that itself is bad, the fact that HPSC is pressuring the police to resolve this out of the public eye indicates that they were at the least somewhat aware of this. Naomasa’s lack of denial is all the confirmation he needs. “…How bad is it?” “It’s…not looking good. The flash drives themselves are already chocked full of highly incriminating bank records, photos, memos, videos.” He pinches the bridge of his nose, as if he’s going through a migraine and some minor nausea just recalling it. Honestly, judging by the bags under his eyes and his wrinkled attire, Toshinori wouldn’t put it past the man to have been burning the midnight oil on this case. “As if that wasn’t enough, we currently have had an influx of witnesses, victims, coming in to testify that I’ve had to audit to ensure validity and that they were not just some hopefuls looking to snatch a bit of air time from a fabricated scandal. There wasn’t a single liar amongst them...not a single one.” “...That’s bad…” is all Toshinori could muster. He knew that there were bound to be a few cases of misconduct, of controversy amongst heroes. Tax fraud, bribes, those he had come to almost expect with how heroics had gone from a moralistic standpoint to a market. But, what Naomasa was leaving unsaid, that twisted his guts. “Are the HPSC representatives … asking you to tamper with-” “Oh no, nothing nearly so overt. They have influence, but nowhere near enough to weather that sort of backlash if it came to the light.” “There’s that at least,” he sighed in relief. The HPSC have left him to his devices for so long that he’s never interacted much with them. He had started his official career with enough clout and public support that trying to exert influence over him would have put the HPSC in a negative light. Which suited him just fine, he couldn’t really stomach them, neither did Gran Torino. His old teacher had been one of the loudest proponents against the formation of an oversight force of non heroes that essentially boiled down to a public relations task force the majority of the time. “Does it seem like your superiors will do as they say?” “The old chief is a by-the-book man. Its what got him the position in the first place. Though he has been developing a bit of a chip on his shoulder for heroes in the past couple of years, so I fear he might be doing so a bit vindictively.” “As long as he acts within the law, I’ll be glad, no matter his disdain.” “Yes, I suppose. Oh, I’m sorry, you just stepped in and I’ve just dumped all of this mess on you. How have your efforts been going? You’ve told me a while back that you made some headway, and finally learned to accept some help on this case.” “Please, even if I tried to politely decline, it’s Nedzu we’re talking about. He’d find some way to wrangle me in to cooperate with them,” Toshinori retorted. “And what do you mean ‘finally learned to accept help’? “ “Yagi, most heroes that handle your scale of jobs often have various teams to help coordinate. You’ve been going solo ever since your split from Sir Nighteye, only recently have you started reaching out for help. Ever since the Midoriya case that is. I don’t mean to sound so cruel, but despite the circumstances, I’m glad that you’re not just trucking it out there alone. At least this way you won’t fall asleep into your pudding.” “...You’re never gonna let me forget that are you?” Toshinori tried to hide his mortification at that recollection. He wasn’t quite so successful, judging from Naomasa’s chuckle. “I’ll keep bringing it up till we’re both old and gray-” The detective’s phone rang, startling the both of them. Naomasa sheepishly answered. “Yes? Hello sir, why….no, I haven’t been watching, is there….” Just like that the tense atmosphere that had permeated the rest of the station seemed to seep into the office as Naomasa went back to his work computer and pulled up a news site, scooting to the side in a silent invitation for Toshinori to join him. It was live streaming an interview. “…Oh...”
“Thank you for joining us today dear viewers. Now, what is about to be discussed is a rather disturbing revelation, so viewer discretion is advised. Now today I am joined by a guest, Ms.-”
“Sasaki Chiyo.”
“Sasaki Chiyo. Thank you for coming Sasaki-san. Doing so must have taken a lot of bravery.”
“If I was braver, I would have done this sooner.”
“I have to respectfully disagree. Moving on though, the ‘Confession’ case has been an incident that has gathered the attention of Japan over the past couple of days. Seven pro heroes have vanished without a trace, or sign of struggle from their homes. Even those with family or spouses living with them cannot recall any details before their disappearance. The only clues left were flash drives with a note detailing the same message:
‘With this, I confess my sins.’
Authorities have been tight lipped about how the case is proceeding, and what said flash drives contain. The Hero Public Safety Commission, as well as the heroes respective agencies, have been similarly silent about the case, refusing to comment. The populace has had to muse on possibilities, resulting in an extensive list of theories circulating on the web. That is, until recently. As of last night, our station was given an anonymous package which contained seven flash drives labeled for each of the missing pro heroes. Though after sifting through the drives, to call the missing ...‘heroes’, seems a disservice to the public. In the drives were a plethora of incriminating records of tax fraud, blackmail, threats, and … coercion. Today we will be focusing on the acts of pro hero Aqua Lash, and the crimes he committed to those who should have felt safe. Sasaki-san, this is your show, start wherever you feel, and stop whenever you feel the need to. You have our support.”
“T-Thank you. I...I guess I’ll start from our first meeting. My family runs a small restaurant in Kanagawa. It was a fairly standard meeting, as far as meeting a hero outside of a publicity event goes. A robbery had happened a few blocks down, and one of the staff had hit the panic button I guess. Aqua Lash had came onto the scene and the criminal ran, eventually reaching our block. I still don’t know what the man’s quirk was. All I knew was that one moment we’re seeing Aqua lash catch up, next all the windows are exploding outwards, everything is shaking, and people are screaming.”
“It must have been terrifying.”
“It was more jarring than terrifying. It was only for a moment, then it stopped, and Aqua Lash and the police had the man restrained in cuffs. My father at that point came out and was talking to the police and checking over customers. Aqua Lash came in as well, to check over everyone, and talk to us.”
“Did anything feel...off at that point?”
“...I’ve thought back to that meeting, picking it apart. There were really no early warnings, no invasive questions nor gestures. No ‘coping a feel.’ He seemed like any other hero at the time. Concerned, easy to talk to. He made brief small talk to all of us as the paramedics made a sweep.”
“Were you injured?”
“I had a few scrapes at best. The worst was someone who had been leaning against the window, and even then it was mostly a shallow head scratch.”
“Did you see Aqua Lash immediately after the event? Did he ask to meet at another time?”
“No, it wasn’t anything quite so overt or sudden. He had made small talk, asking what university I was going to. I had been studying at one of the empty tables during a lunch break, so all my textbooks were blown all over the place. His agency exchanged contact info with my father, for damage claims. I didn’t see him again until two weeks later.”
“Was it another villain incident?”
“No, he said he was helping another agency fill in some vacancies in their patrol routes. Though I found it odd that he would be so lax to make small talk on patrols. After the third time it happened in the same month I started to suspect that the ‘accidental’ meet ups were deliberate. By the fourth time I knew.”
“What gave it away?”
“When I tried to break off the conversation, saying I needed to go my music lessons, he mentioned my music teacher. He knew where I was going, and probably why. I had never mentioned anything about those lessons, or where I was taking them. He must have realized his slip up because he made some excuse of being needed somewhere as well.”
“Was there any chance of it being a coincidence? I don’t mean to doubt or discredit you, rather just make it plain to the viewers of how unlikely it was for him to know that.”
“I was a 45 minute train and bus ride away from the place in question. The place that I took lessons at was also not a place of popularity. Just a musician renting a studio space for lessons.”
“So pretty much impossible. Did he still try to initiate those ‘accidental’ meetups?”
“No, but despite that I didn’t have the feeling of relief, of a weight being lifted from my shoulders. For the past few weeks someone had been monitoring me, and I never knew. Mind you, someone with heavy weight in authority and law. This wasn’t just a creep in the neighborhood, this was somebody who is leagues above you in social standing. Who do I go to? With no hard evidence? Who was watching me?”
“I imagine that that must have made you grow quite paranoid.”
“Immensely. But I thought the worst was over, and worst case scenario, that this was my issue alone and my parents didn’t have to deal with it.”
“It didn’t just, stay with only you though….did it?”
“...No. It didn’t. It was a month later that he tried meeting me again, but I just ignored him or left quickly. It wasn’t ideal, but I thought that was as far as it would go. Then one night, my classes were canceled and I came home early. My father was on the phone with someone about the damage claim. Which was odd, because before everything was going okay, no hiccups, paperwork was going through well...”
“But then that changed, didn’t it?”
“We were encountering difficulties, technicalities in our paperwork that was disqualifying us from acquiring the aid needed to help rebuild the restaurant. Technicalities that had never risen before. Missing forms and signatures that we
did
have, that we
did
send in.”
“Did this start suddenly, or did it occur within the time frame of your avoidance?”
“After I found out and talked about it with my parents, it was about four days after he slipped and I found out he had been, or had someone, stalking me.”
“You suspected he had a hand in it?”
“He brought it up a week later when I saw him again, ‘by coincidence.’ He was practically preening.”
“Did he make any demands?”
“He said if we talked, it could all be smoothed over…I stupidly thought that I could do just that, talk, and be done with it… I was stupid. So, s-so -”
“You couldn’t have known someone so trusted could be so capable of such a thing.”
“But he did. As soon as we went to some place to talk, he made his demands, his desires, and said he could ruin me and my family. He threatened to get me kicked out of my university, blacklist me. Just stated it like he was talking about the weather, like there wasn’t anything incredibly wrong with what he was telling me. I...I didn’t know what else I could do. So I...I just….I….”
“You don’t need to continue if its becoming too much.”
“No, I...I have to tell this. I need this, to have people know what kind of person they were relying on. I...I did what he wanted. I thought I could be done with it, swallow down the bile and get it over with. It was never just one time though. I couldn’t stand the feeling of my own skin, it felt wretched after he touched it. I wanted to just say fuck it, no, I’m done, I won’t, I CAN’T...”
“...But you’re parents weren’t experiencing difficulties anymore, were they?”
“They kept talking about how their luck finally turned around, how everything was smoothing over, how things were finally looking up...I couldn’t do that to them. I...I just couldn’t. So I kept silent, and just kept telling myself its only until the repairs and payments are complete, and only then.”
“It didn’t though...did it?”
“He took photos, videos! Threatened to spread them everywhere if I stopped, and I...I just...”
“It’s okay Sasaki-san, it’s okay to cry. You don’t need to suffer in silence anymore.”
“I...I’m just glad that finally, he’s getting his due, wherever he is.”
“Hopefully soon he will be found and brought to trial, so that he may answer for all his crimes. It is just as you heard dear viewers, Aqua Lash, while a dashing hero to the public, had abused his authority to commit heinous acts. Several of our journalists have scoured the contents of the flash drives, and in there are the conversations, photos, and videos that Aqua Lash used to commit such crimes.”
“-upon examining the contents of the flash drive, we have found numerous memos, emails, and financial records to show that pro hero Mist Step had pressured citizens into altering their damage reports to place property damage blame solely on the criminals she apprehended. Not only that, that she had personal stakes in all the construction contractors in her district, despite it being a clear violation of hero practice and ethics. The documents show a clear paper trail of how she kept this involvement secret through the use of multiple shell companies overseas-”
“-the documents within the flash drive are harrowing, as they detail in horrifying detail how pro hero Reversal would pressure and coerce young fans into-”
“-with the horrifying accounts of heroine Burst Fatale’s abuse of public trust and preying upon minors, Mr. Okada, now Mr. Ishii, has filed papers for a divorce-”
“-tonight we shall have on set, several side kicks and clerks of the agency of pro hero Bronze Knuckle, with disturbing tales of being forced accomplices in altering records, of rampant sexual harassment in the workplace, and-”
This was the part All for One loved. That moment when someone utterly broke, to see all the facets of their self laid bare and scattered for his hands to mold, to reshape. He had been busy at work on his seven guests for quite some time, allowing his successor to chime in here and there. He was pleased to notice his student had indeed headed his words, and had kept his delight from leaving too many grievous wounds on them. He filtered out the noise from the screens that lined one wall that were dedicated to broadcasting news reports of his dear guests all day. They had tried to shut it out, ignore it. That ended rather quickly, and even in their pain, even in their exhaustion they couldn’t look away. Couldn’t tear their eyes away as they saw society tear down their pedestals. “Oh how easy the tall fall down,” he remarked, the seven stilling at his voice. Ah, he’s trained them well. He walked behind their chained and grimy forms, and he saw some of them fight the urge to look at him with what little movement their chains allowed. Good, good. “Let’s be honest though, we all knew this would happen. You were playing a role that you could never do. The people were just….complacent in believing the lie. Now though, the lie is out there for everyone to see in all its ugly glory. Quite simply, society is done with you, my dear friends... Though, that is not to say that this is your end.” He takes a moment to pace the length of them, his footsteps echoing in the space, counting down like the ticking of a clock. The human mind is a marvel, for as much as it can create, it can also be one’s most worst enemy. He can “see” it working overdrive in his seven captives in the silence. They know he is a threat, though in the absence of immediate pain, their minds are furiously conjuring possible methods of cruelty he could inflict upon them in some futile way of steeling oneself for the sting. It helped the next few words drive deeper. “After all, Mrs. Okada-” he said, clasping a hand on the quivering shoulder of one of the poor unfortunates, “-Oh, forgive me, Ms. Okada. Spouses can be so fickle these days, though I do suppose finding out your partner was using her authority and position to molest minors is a bit of a deal breaker. Now, where was I? Oh yes…” Oh, how they trembled, these children really. He could practically see them shudder in agony as his words twisted deeper in their flesh like twisting a shard of glass. Yes, they were ready. He waved to Kurogiri who nodded and operated a lever at his behest, letting the chains go loose and slack, letting the seven slump against the floor to their surprise. Now, while the iron is hot, set the framework for everything to come. “This is not the end for you all. For while the world, as it is, has little use for you, I see such potential. What kind of monster would I be? To let it be squandered?” Now they were looking at him, now he had their attention. This was out of the norm for the past few days for them. This peace, this loosening of the leash. “Let’s face it, you never walked this path just for the sake of being heroes. You wanted more, you wanted the power of that position. So here is my offer, my lifeline, if you will.” Kurogiri had waived in a helper who began to unload seven suitcases, now unlatched and open for them to see. He could sense their pulses increasing, “see” the tension ease out as the meaning behind their contents became clear.
“I find myself in the need of skilled and handy personnel.” He walked over to the suitcases, picking up one of the support gear pieces at random. Custom made, but close enough to the seven’s original gear. “If you accept this chance, then you do as I say, when I say it, and immediately. In return … I give you a chance at attaining that power you covet so.” They didn’t even hesitate. Izuku found himself changing again with the lessons, much to his despair. While some of the footage of the fights had been gruesome, the lessons had seemed harmless, at least directly. One can’t hurt another person simply by observing. At least, that’s what he had told himself.
But sooner or later everything here finds a way to twist itself into some hideous perversion of what he once knew.
He couldn’t take any joy out of seeing heroes in action, not when his ability to take them apart piece by piece and lay their flaws bare were the one thing that saved him from a punishment. After four of those lessons, it was like a switch was flipped, like a door’s lock was now broken and he can’t seal it shut anymore. Now like second nature, every person he sees he picks apart until he can see their past, their fears, their scars. One orderly who can’t stand to be near him always has a slight wince when bending and putting pressure on his right knee. Possible ligament damage, the cause of old age seems unlikely, since they look to be in their mid twenties. Though he doesn’t know their quirk, it could possibly be a mutation that slows down physical signs of ageing and thus makes them-
Stop picking them apart.
It’s like a mental slap, catching himself diving into this thought process. He doesn’t like it, it reeks so much of Sensei that it makes his skin crawl. He can’t lose himself in reading to get away from it, as with all of Sensei’s gifts, they bite into him. Having nothing but essays and texts and research papers taking apart people’s bodies and how their quirks help shape them do nothing but make him see people less for who they were and more for what they are made of. They might as well not have skin on at this point and nothing would change.
Stop it, no, don’t let it break you, don’t let the light die out.
He wants to persevere but its getting harder. It’s funny how the more tools he’s given, the stronger he gets, the worse it becomes. Just when he thinks he might have gained some way of being safer, some form of strength, it poisons him.
Do not deny it, do not squander it, or they will be sure to hurt you more! A blade that hurts its owner is still a blade! Do not die out, our light!
He fights the urge to claw at his ears. The voice, or voices, as they often sounded like a crowd speaking at once, had become more frequent. He dares not tell anyone, not the doctor with the rare question, not Naima, and certainly not Sensei. What if the voices are a sign that he’s wrong, that this is as far as he can go? That he’s a failure!? Would he be put down? Snuffed out?
Or would they like those voices better than his?
No, he can’t risk it. They already hold so much of him in their grasp, whatever secrets he can have he’ll keep even if they hurt. He had just finished his current book, a record of wing based quirk mutations and the strains and complications of the spine and posture, when it happened. The structure he was in began to violently shake as he heard a serious of muted booms and thuds echo through the halls. Then he heard the screams. The shaking began again and this time the lights flickered before everything went dark. By now he had backed into the furthest corner, nervous and scared and tensing for the next impact, for everything to crumble. After a brief moment in the dark, the emergency lights flared up, bathing everything in a sickly red glow, alarms and klaxons screeching in the air. Then something happened that never had before, for as long as he can remember being holed up in this facility. The door unlocked and slid open, with no one there. No orderlies, no doctor, no Sensei or Kurogiri. Just the empty hallway that lead deeper into the facility. He has to squash the urge to make a run for it.
Isn’t this what you wished for?
But what if it’s a trap? What if it’s a test? A test where he doesn’t know the rules or goal but is bound by it all the same. Though the screams hadn’t stopped, nor the dull thuds of impacts. Perhaps its an attack? A possible hero raid? No, he can’t be that lucky. He stills as he hears someone running down the halls near him, he can hear their frantic wheezing clearly as if they’re running next to him. He hears a few more join them, and can practically feel the panic that is radiating off of them. He extends the reach of Lepus Sense tentatively, trying to filter out the now louder sirens from what these people may be saying, looking for any hints as to what is happening. “...dammit…months of…” “...no, no…this can’t…now…” “Have to…save…data…” “-ecure subjects…make…” “...thought…stinger?…heroes…” The last word makes Izuku gasp slightly. Heroes, he can’t believe it. He…he can’t believe it. They found this place!
Temper that hope! We haven’t seen them yet! Focus on living for now until then!
With that in mind he scuttles over to the front of his cell, as silent as he can be, and calls armordermis to his hands, sharpening the black coating on his fingers into claws. Then carefully but quickly he scales the corner wall right of the door and nestles himself in the darkest corner, holding his breath. Soon enough the footsteps reach his cell and a few orderlies filter in, with shock prods and quirk cuffs in hand. “Shit shit shit! Who opened R4-881T’s cell!?” “It was the power outage! All the power lines were destroyed. The backup generators only power life support and high risk cells!” “Fuck! This damn brat’s cell isn’t high risk!?” “Oh, I’m sorry, would you prefer one of the Sigma class Noumus out and about right now!? How about that one with a snake jaw and acid saliva? I’m sure that one is just friendly!” There were orders to bring him in. He doesn’t know if its the doctor’s or Sensei’s. Hindering either of their orders from being carried out would warrant a punishment, though Izuku has spent long enough in here to know that while the doctor’s punishments would be agony, Sensei’s would be far worse. He can stand the scars, but forgetting himself… That is far worse. “Stop arguing! Boss said we need to get the brat before anyone gets to him! He’s not…” The choice of whether or not to reveal himself is robbed from him when one of the orderlies, whose eyes glow oddly-
Nocturnal eye mutation quirk?
- looks straight at him, and flares up the voltage on their shock prod. The decision on how to act is almost too easy. With this slim chance of freedom, so tantalizingly close, Izuku brings more of armordermis to bear, coating his arms and legs in the familiar armor, before launching himself from the corner into a dive kick that sends the man’s head snapping back with a sickeningly satisfying crunch. With just that, he managed to knock out one combatant out of the fight almost immediately. Unfortunately, it landed him right in the middle of a group of scared, armed, and angry orderlies. Izuku can practically feel his heartbeat reverberate in his head as all his senses work in overdrive and everyone seems to move like they’re wading through water. Before the orderly’s body that he used as a landing pad has touched the ground Izuku snatches the shock prod out of their slack fingers and jabs it into the stomach of the one holding the quirk nullifying restraints, making them scream and convulse. Hearing the rustle of clothes behind him he dips out of the way of a thrust of another shock prod before grabbing the man’s overextending arm, and snapping their elbow, prompting a wet scream from the large man.
Don’t get nauseous, don’t think about it! Hesitate and they will hurt you! Hesitate and your chance will be gone!
Loosen the leash!
He ignores the noise, both around him and inside his head, and sweeps the legs of the last orderly. Before the person could even reach for their belt looped prod, Izuku is on them, fist hammering into the mans nose, crushing it and smacking their skull against the unforgiving concrete. Out cold. Now with a clear exit, Izuku tears out into the hallways, not even sparing a second to see if they had radios on them, if they were still breathing, or if they were getting up. He can practically hear the seconds tick by with damning finality. He cuts every corner faster than the last, going faster than he thought he could. By now his heart is practically a machine gun, beating so fast in his head it dulls the klaxons. Whatever caused this blackout is still happening, the dull thuds sounding more frequently. It isn’t as comforting as he’d hope. He nearly streaks by one hallway before he skids to a stop, noticing what the doors barred. “...please…” “...W-what’s going on?” Three cells, locked by steel and mechanical tumblers. Holding forty sum odd people, victims. The early batches, the one’s that still felt, still cried. The ones who had experienced the doctor’s scalpel and still clung to hope. They were looking at him and he could nearly taste their desperation, their fear. Of course their cells would still be locked, of course they would.
Our light, forget about them! Every second you waste here is another moment they get closer! You’ve tried before, and those four died! Do you truly believe you can help anyone else when your circumstances are so dire!?
He’s been hurt and deprived of so much, no one could fault him for wanting to be selfish, could they? Just this one moment, out of all the shit luck he’s had his entire life, he could just worry about himself, about his freedom…
But then he wouldn’t be any better than the monsters that made him.
“It’s gonna…it’s gonna be okay. Stand back a bit” he warns them, fusing the armor around his fingers and flattening and shaping it until they form a short blade. They catch on to his meaning before shuffling against the back wall while he hacks away at the bars. There is some resistance, but it gives away soon enough under his makeshift blade. He does the same to the other two doors and soon enough they crawl out of their cells hesitantly, as if its a mirage and the bars will still be there to mock them. Once they’re out they look at him with such gratitude that he can’t bear it. He hasn’t saved them, not yet. They all still have their collars, they’re still in here, trapped like he is. “Can all of y-you run or walk?” he asks. They look fine for the most part, but he knows the repercussions of the doctor’s surgeries. One can look relatively normal, but their insides are boiling and their flesh ripping and no one would be the wiser. Many of them nod their heads except for four who wince as they try to stand. He looks at their legs and knows just from the faint healing lines on their legs what they’re going through.
“Don’t worry, didn’t you say you wish you were taller? Well, I’m going to fix that for you.”
“Don’t … don’t push yourselves, trust me” He goes over and helps ease each of them up. “Somebody h-help support them.” “Won’t they slow the rest of us down?” one of them calls out. An older one, still rather fresh in his tenure here from the lack of thin pink scars, has the audacity to complain. He tries to draw himself up, squaring his shoulders as if he wants to take charge, and to his benefit he does have a good few centimeters on most of the group. Though to Izuku, who has faced horror after horror, who has had to tip toe the tightrope to the whims of Sensei, the young man looks comical, pathetic really. He has no time for this. “Is that what you think?” Izuku asks, striding slowly towards the young man, a cold bite entering his voice that surprised even himself. “Then by that logic, wouldn’t all of you slow me down? After all, you’re all quirkless. I know, because they started that selection process after my treatment.” The man tenses and makes a half step back instinctively. He’s given ground, he’s ceding, Izuku knows they’ll listen to him now but he wants, no, needs to hammer this home. “I didn’t break you out because I thought it would benefit me,” he practically spits out the words, “I did it because it was the right thing to do. Now, help them.” The man has the decency to look ashamed before shuffling over to help one of the four, with others following suit. With the four injured properly supported, the group collectively turn to him. With a creeping panic Izuku realizes that they expect him to lead them. Swallowing the nerves, he looks at all of them, the hope in their eyes that burns his insides, and ushers them on, “follow behind me, I’ll scout out ahead, be careful, stay together!” Please be safe. All For One sat in his office, the surrounding corridors connected to it utterly blocked off for the benefit of this test, Kurogiri at his side narrating the feeds from the monitors . “It seems our boy is intent on giving himself a handicap for this test.” Kurogiri hums in agreement. “Though I must give him points where they are due. The little speech, while saccharine, held all the right notes, pulled the right strings on the crowd…I wonder if he’s even aware of it, or if it’s just become second nature…it’ll have to be something we’ll have to test later on. For now though, give the seven a new target.” “Of course sir.” With the group of escapee’s with him, Izuku’s progress had slowed considerably. Any gripes or doubts a little voice in his head may have whispered were snuffed out after the first few moments at the furtive budding of elation that he was helping people. His luck had seemed to hold as so far the halls they had been going down were abandoned except for the odd lone staff member, who Izuku managed to subdue with ease. He had taken care to make sure to swipe whatever keys they had on them. Some were different but he didn’t know if that determined the level of clearance they had, or if it just detailed their position. Or even if the card readers would still work, did the main doors lock during a shutdown to quarantine them? Were they of the same make as the old Noumu cells? He’d have to cross that bridge once he gets there. For now he’ll worry about getting to a door that led to somewhere else. He holds out a hand to the group, ushering them to stop as he hears a steadily increasing series of booms and thuds rapidly approaching the hallway juncture up ahead. For the most part he’s kept them parallel to the noise, not quite wanting to loose track of it, but at the same time not wanting to get too close in case it wasn’t what some of the panicked orderlies thought it was. While Sensei and his operation was vast, it wasn’t unheard of for rival villains to attack each other for resources. He can vaguely recall with horrid clarity how he one night had snuck onto a computer to read on a hero case only to have nightmares from accidentally stumbling upon the leaked crime scene photos of what happened when villains turned on one another. The group shuffled to a stop behind him, several panting from the exertion as their injuries flared up in response. Izuku had to hold in the instinct to usher them to be quieter. To others they were probably dead quiet, but to Izuku who’s had to learn painfully how to move in utter silence, their movements echo in his head alarmingly loud. Sure enough, the sounds are getting louder, and then the light isn’t only just red from the emergency lights. He can now hear the screams and cries of people that had been drowned out from the explosions, until they’re violently cut short. Ash and smoke start to billow into their view, and one singed orderly staggers out, exhausted and sobbing as they collapse and try to shuffle away. “Please, oh oh god please, please..have mercy!” His cries cut off to a sob as what looks like a…glowing ball? Slowly rolls close. Then with a burst of heat and light, the orderly is painting the walls, an errant fleck of what Izuku assumes to be blood splattering his cheek. He can’t move, despite the fact that he can hear whoever has been responsible moving closer through the smoke, and they’re not alone.
Threat!
Before he can act on that, or even usher the others away, a woman walks out of the smoke. She’s familiar…she’s FAMILIAR.
Burst Fatale. Pro Hero, quirk is Volatile, allows her to cause delayed bursts of heat and force from objects that can fit in her palm. Specializes in close quarters combat and is able to delay the bursts for up to fifteen minutes, allowing her a lot of possibilities for setting up ambushes and stake outs.
The cocky smile the he recalls the Heroine often sporting is so much sinister in this moment though. “Awwww, well aren’t you all precious. Hey guys! I found them!” She called, and six more walked out of the smoke, joining her. All pro heroes. All sending off warning signs in Izuku’s head. One was a rather large man, built and barrel chested with a broken nose, short cropped brown hair, and orange eyes-
Bronze Knuckle, quirk is Metal Pugilist, allows him to harden his hands into a bronze colored metallic state. Trained in boxing and judo, good offensive potential, though the quirk limitations hinder the hero’s combat capabilities. Excels against emitter types.
-another who was almost the opposite, tall slim build with rather lanky arms, pale blueish skin and pastel green eyes and hair-
Aqua Lash, quirk is Water Whip, can manipulate water in a limited fashion, cannot alter water’s form to be anything other than tail like whips whose diameter cannot span more than 15cm. Mid range fighter that specializes in crowd control, and is able to control water with enough force to cleanly snap bones.
-to their left came one who looked startling normal, average build and plain brown hair with black eyes, except for the fact that their hands were essentially swapped, thumbs in the wrong position-
Reversal, quirk is Inversion, a five finger touch based emitter quirk. Upon contact, Reversal can choose to invert sight or motor functions. In rare cases they have been shown to reverse momentum, though the strain it places on them is very visible. Duration lasts for roughly a minute, and is limited to only one affected person or object. Close range fighter and works very well in coordinated assaults.
-flanked by a woman whose form seemed to shimmer, her gray hair flowing as if submerged in water, eyes a murky white that seemed to peer through him- Mist Step, quirk is Mist Jump, allowing her to essentially “hop” short distances quickly in a mist form that is impervious to attacks. Can maintain their mist form when moving normally or stationary, though has a hard limit of thirty seconds. Specializes in quick captures and excels in urban conflicts. -finally followed by two more, one being another woman of rather tall stature, feathers where there should be hair, and thin sharp limbs-
Gust Ride, quirk is Wind Walk, can increase their speed by shaping short gusts of wind to propel them forward or push away. Cannot fly via this method, though they can glide vast distances. Excels at capture assignments.
-and another man, whose eyes seem to be a bit bigger than normal for his face, scaly patches of skin.
Mirage Man, quirk is Chameleon. Unlike the lizard, they actually can change their appearance to match their surroundings. They can also traverse walls and ceilings using the pads on their fingers and toes. Their tongue can shoot out for a distance of two meters, with enough force to knock out a grown adult if aimed correctly.
Izuku knows these people. He KNOWS them! Blurry recollections of them giving him signatures, of urging him on at some event. They’re heroes, so he should feel safe.
He’s not he’s not he’s not! Heroes don’t murder!
THREAT THREAT THREAT THREAT THREAT!
“You found us! I can’t, I can’t believe it!” One of the prisoners exclaims, a boy no older than him, and runs towards them before Izuku can call out. “I thought we’d never be free-” Izuku sees the movement, and rushes forward and yanks the boy out of the way and jumps back. Not a moment to soon as half a second later, that same flash that wiped out that orderly scorched the hallway where the boy was moments before. In that tense following silence, Izuku’s mind working in overdrive, it sets in. Them. Their attire. They’re in support gear, but it’s not their support gear. Sure its close enough to the group’s hero costumes, but there’s changes, modifications that don’t look non lethal. Gone as well are the colors of their suits, in their place dull grays and white that seem to help bleed into the lifeless surroundings. “Shame, I thought that this would be rather easy. Won’t you stay still?” Burst Fatale smiled, before making another ball glow with her quirk, all the other six flaring up their quirks. This is Sensei’s doing, Izuku knows, he knows, he knows, he knows, he knows! Only Sensei would do something this cruel.
Only Sensei would take the people he looked up to and twist them beyond recognition, a perverted inversion of what should be able to keep him safe, make the world wrong.