Chapter 18

Izuku sits on his bed, breathes, and thinks.

He hasn't had the chance to do this yet—sit and be silent and think. It's not always an easy thing for him. In years past, he has been on the move constantly, chasing after hero battles or favors to the dead, following the news feed on his phone or the whispers of ghosts. Most recently he has added training to his life, and in the past few weeks he has lived and breathed with the Sports Festival hovering in the back of his mind. But it's over now; after two days, it's over, and he's home and it's quiet. So Izuku turns his mind to something he hasn't had time to think about since yesterday.

That's not his fault—yesterday never paused. He was fighting, then chasing ghosts, then fighting again, then chasing and worrying and spitting threats and dropping cats in his classmates' laps. And then he was home, Mika vanished, Todoroki contacted him, and even now he barely remembers crashing into bed.

But now, it's quiet. Now, Rei sits quietly nearby and plays with Mika. His phone is off, the news feed cut to keep out distractions. Izuku thinks about his fight the previous day.

Not his fight with Todoroki. The one before that.

He thinks of the limb-locking nightmare that is Shinsou's quirk. He thinks of that prison, of knowing even for those briefest of moments exactly what it means to be someone's puppet.

He thinks of words in his head. Not like the voices of the dead—those he can hear the same as any other. These were like thoughts that weren't his, words forming in his mind as he fought to break free.

He thinks, Hello?

The only answering noise in his mind is his own.

Are you still there? Can you hear me? Can you let me hear you?

No answer. None at all.

"Rei," he says softly. She looks up. "Before you broke me out of Shinsou's control, did you… hear anything? Like voices?" He hesitates. "Not the voices of the crowd. But like… people talking to me?"

She shakes her head. Her dark eyes are wide.

"Yeah, I didn't think so." He sits back, legs crossed. "I heard something. Like people talking to each other—I'm not sure how many. It was quiet, though. Quieter than most ghosts. I don't know if they knew I could hear them."

Her hands move to speak. "What did they say?" she asks.

"Not much. Mostly commenting on how I got myself mind-controlled." Izuku snorts quietly. "About how it was a hard lesson. And a good thing it happened in a contest instead of a real fight." He goes quietly thoughtful again, brows knitted together in a frown. "And one of them… one of them said something strange."

Rei leans forward curiously.

"He said something like, 'Better now than against my brother.' Or she. It was hard to tell, it could've been anyone. Too quiet to tell the difference. I couldn't even tell how many there were." The words are scarcely out of his mouth when he remembers—smoke and haze in his vision, forming vague shapes. "Wait… seven of them, maybe. Or… eight? Somewhere around there. I saw something, too. I saw something and heard something, and they were talking about me. It was like nothing I've ever seen before. Or heard."

With a sigh, he flops backward on his bed and nearly knocks his head into the wall.

"And that's crazy," he says. "I've been living with his power my whole life. You'd think it couldn't surprise me anymore."

And then Rei is hovering into view, her dark hair hanging down toward his face. "Then maybe it isn't," her hands say.

"Isn't what?"

"What if it's not the power you've had your whole life?" she asks. "What if it's the one you just got?"

Izuku stares up at her, speechless. For a moment he thinks, no, that can't be it. What does a quirk that enhances his strength and speed have to do with seeing visions and hearing voices? And it's not like he's flying blind; All-Might would know about it, and wouldn't he have mentioned something? This is a quirk that's passed down, and…

It's passed down. It amasses power from its wielders.

…Oh.

"One For All," he whispers, half to himself. "It accumulates the strength of each person who has it, and then…" His mouth hangs half open. "What if strength isn't the only thing that gets passed down?"

"Ask him?" Rei suggests.

"Who?" He looks at her again. "All-Might? I… I don't know, Rei." He stares past her at the ceiling. "It could be both of my quirks working at the same time. Maybe it comes from One For All, but I can only hear it because of…" His voice trails off. He's never bothered to name his quirk before. "If this is because of my original quirk, then this isn't something he can help me with. But…" Thoughtfully he presses his lips together. "I think I should ask him about the people who have held One For All in the past, at least. That could shed some light. And maybe Ms. Shimura's heard something. She's been following him for long enough, I bet."

He watches the ceiling, and he looks at Rei, deep in thought even as Mika walks across his stomach to curl up on his chest. "I wonder what that means, though. 'Better now than against my brother.' Whose brother?"

Rei shrugs.

He's anxious for Monday now. His arm will be better by then, and maybe he can take this stupid gauze off his face, too. There are people he can talk to, both living and dead. There are questions he can ask, and hopefully answers he can find. All-Might has promised to help him understand One For All, and that ought to help with half of this mystery. For the rest, well… no one knows Izuku's original quirk better than Izuku does. It's not like mysterious voices and visions are anything new.

But at the same time, he knows this isn't ghosts. Even spirits have more substance than this. But… but it's something. Maybe. If he's right.

Am I right? he thinks.

Nothing answers.

The apartment building has seen better days.

At least, Nana assumes it has. Every building was new at some point. There has to be something there first, for it to reach the point of shabby.

Torino always did pride himself on humility. Which, now that she thinks of it, is a bit of an oxymoron.

She enters unhindered. Legends about the power of thresholds are a bit exaggerated to her knowledge, but it wouldn't matter anyway. This isn't the kind of place anyone would call home. It's the sort of quiet place that's only quiet because anyone in hearing range is too scared to make a lot of noise. At best, it's a place to sleep.

He isn't hard to find, as small as he is. He used to cut at least as imposing a figure as Toshi does now, but age has shrunken him. He's as tough as a gnarled snag, wrinkled and scarred but too stubborn to crack or blow over. He used to scowl when she grinned and grumble when she joked, a bullheaded old curmudgeon with a tough outer layer covering his well-hidden mushy little heart.

Very well hidden. But that didn't make it any less real.

Take now, for instance.

Now, he sits on the couch with a plate of cold taiyaki and a sheet of paper on the table in front of him. His phone is in his hands but from the looks of it he's already hung up, and he's only toying with it now. His teeth are clenched, his jaw set. She can almost see veins pulsing in his forehead.

"That bastard," he says under his breath to an empty apartment. "That…" A short sigh, sharp and angry in the quiet. He grips the phone with white knuckles. The way he tosses it aside is an aggressive sort of carelessness. "Did it again. Poor young bastard." He shakes his head, and some of the anger in him gives way. It always does when he thinks no one's watching. It parts like a curtain, and sadness peeks through with no one but a dead woman to see it. "Son of a bitch."

"Hey, old friend." He's deaf to her greeting, but it makes her feel better to say it anyway. "What's got you in a tiff, I wonder?" She sits beside him, and the couch doesn't dip beneath her. "Hope you won't take it out on the kid too bad."

No answer, of course. Nana looks to the coffee table again, and the paper is close enough that she can identify it. It's a form for official nomination—agencies use them when scouting out hero trainees who show promise. They always come out after the Yuuei Sports Festivals. This one's blank, but the pen is well within Gran Torino's reach.

Nana lets herself have a quiet little chuckle. "So you were paying attention after all, huh? Good. Thought you might." She glances sidelong at her old friend. "Did you notice? Did you see the way he fought?" His face gives nothing away. "Did you see anything of me in it?"

Her old friend picks up the pen. His brow furrows, and he glares down at the form.

Nana watches him, watches the pen that he grips in his fingers. "I'm sorry," she says. "I feel like it isn't fair to you, pulling you back into this again. Arm-twisting you from beyond the grave. But… Toshi needs your help again." Spectral fingers curl into fists in her lap. "Izuku could use it too."

"I know what you're going to say," she goes on, though really he isn't going to say anything. "I should be doing this myself, if I can. I should be more helpful. I should… I should tell him." She feels her eyes fill with tears. "I should. I would, if I were just a little less pitiful. But I just… I've left it too long, and now I don't know how to tell him. What will he say when he finds out?" Her vision blurs. "You think it's nothing to worry about?" she asks, and shakes her head. "You should see him, Gran. You should see how he loves. When he loves, he does it with all his heart, and that boy loves Toshi. What will he think of the pitiful woman who went and abandoned him?"

She smiles through her tears, bright and painful. "I can't spit it out myself. All I can do is just… not stop him from asking you. I guess that's one more thing I'm leaving in your hands instead of taking care of myself, isn't it? I'm sorry." Her voice hitches. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."

Her apologies fall on deaf ears. The only sound that the living can hear is the quiet scratch of a pen on paper.

Izuku steps onto the train an hour earlier than normal.

His arm is out of the sling but still bandaged, and a good portion of the left side of his face is still covered in gauze. Recovery Girl left him with sternly-worded orders to pay her a visit before class, and after the blistering scolding he's already been subjected to, the last thing he wants to do is… well, anything besides exactly what she told him.

People are staring at him as he takes a seat. Not that they're being blatant about it—Izuku only catches quick, brief glances from the surrounding passengers. He doesn't blame them; the bandaging on his arm is just visible where his jacket sleeve doesn't cover his wrist, and for all they know he could be missing an eye.

Izuku takes out his phone.

As early as it is, he can't really be sure anyone else is up yet. Only one of his friends is remotely likely to be awake right now.

[6:41] Izuku:

morning iida :P

might actually beat you to class today

He waits, but there's no answer forthcoming.

Weird, he thinks, and then he mentally shakes himself. Because it's not weird at all for someone to still be asleep at ass o'clock in the morning. It's not like Iida got beat up bad enough to need an appointment with Recovery Girl. Izuku only hopes he hasn't woken him up by accident.

He's about to switch to a news app when a throat clears somewhere above him. He looks up, instantly wary for no reason he can articulate, and finds a sleepy-eyed salaryman holding on to a suspended handle and looking straight at him.

"You're a Yuuei student, aren't you?" the man asks.

Izuku double-checks that he's alive before answering out loud. "Er, yes," he says. Rei doesn't seem bothered by him, so he deems it safe.

The man's face breaks out in a grin. "Thought so. I recognized you from the Sports Festival." More people are looking now. Izuku does a quick scan around at the faces watching openly or shooting glances. Most of them seem friendly. No one's hostile, that he can tell. But still, he feels his nerves kick in. It's not fear (well, it is—it's always fear) but more of a heightened sense of everything around him. There's no reason to feel so fenced in and wary, but he does. For a moment the walls and ceiling of the train car seem closer, and he has to take a moment to blink and shake himself free.

"Oh yeah, I recognize you!" someone else pipes up. "Weren't you the one that punched Endeavor's kid in the face?" Quiet laughter ripples through everyone within hearing range.

"Looks like he got you a good one too, didn't he?" the first speaker remarks. Izuku shrugs, and his face feels hot.

"Don't worry about it," one woman says, seeing the discomfort on his face. "I'm pretty sure a lot of people were rooting for you."

"I know I was."

"You're a tough kid, lasting that long against the son of the number-two hero."

"Everybody loves an underdog. You did good!"

"What was your name again? Midorima?"

"Midoriya," he corrects the last speaker. "Um. Thank you. You're very kind."

"You're a scrappy little thing, Midoriya," says the man who first mentioned the punch. "Endeavor's son took out that one kid in five seconds flat, and you still almost beat him."

Izuku puts on a smile. He tries to make it a normal, friendly smile, and not the eerily fixed one that he forces when he's upset. No one gives him any weird looks, beyond a few sheepishly sympathetic grins, so he must be doing all right.

He can't help but notice, in the back of his mind, that none of them bothered referring to Todoroki by name. It continues, as he bends an ear and listens in on side conversations. It's always Endeavor's son and Endeavor's kid and the son of the number-two hero; it's never Todoroki, and it's certainly never Todoroki Shouto.

He's starting to understand his classmate—friend?—just a little more.

It's still early when he gets to school, and his pass lets him through the school's security barrier without any trouble. There are a few other students on campus—dedicated class reps, early-morning tutoring students, and the like—but no one he recognizes. He catches a few stares, and assumes it's the gauze.

If he's a little timid when knocking on the door to Recovery Girl's office, he can hardly be blamed.

"Oh good, you're early," she says as he steps inside. He breathes a sigh of relief; she seems to be in a much better mood. Less angry, at least. She takes a moment or two to fiddle with things at her desk before finally turning to him. If he didn't know better, he'd think she was distracted.

On instinct, he looks to Rei. She's always been sensitive to how people feel. And now, she's frowning at the school nurse. She doesn't look hostile, or even particularly upset. Just… thoughtful.

Briskly Recovery Girl checks over his arm, mouth twisting thoughtfully. She reapplies her quirk once more, and any lingering aches in his newly-healed bones vanish. "Hm. Well, it's healed about as well as can be expected," she remarks when she's finished her assessment. "And luckily, you have a mostly-tame day today, if Aizawa is to be believed. Hold still while I check your eye." He stoops a little to give her easier access to his face, and she gently peels the gauze off of it. Izuku tries not to wince at the itch-sting that comes when air touches his injury. A quick touch of Recovery Girl's quirk wipes it away in a heartbeat. "There we are. Good as… well. Good as it's going to get, I suppose."

Izuku reaches up to touch the skin beneath his eye without thinking. It doesn't hurt, but…

"I did tell you it was going to scar." Recovery Girl's voice is gently chiding. She moves back to her desk and sets about shuffling things on it. "It's not too bad. Noticeable, but you're hardly disfigured."

Curiosity overtakes him. Izuku glances around for the nearest mirror, and leans over to see his own face. True to Recovery Girl's word, Todoroki's ice punch has left its mark on him. The worst of it is the pale, jagged scarring right beneath his left eye. There's a little more on the side of his nose level with the eye, and his eyebrow has two nicks in it.

It's not terrible to look at. Certainly not as vivid as the burn scar on Todoroki's face. It's something he can live with.

"Don't preen too much," Recovery Girl says dryly. "Believe me, girls aren't nearly as keen on scars as some seem to think."

Rei tugs on his sleeve to get his attention. "She's worried about something," his friend signs to him. "She's hiding it, but she's worried."

"Is something wrong?" he asks softly.

"Hm?" Recovery Girl glances at him, still busying herself around the office. "Oh, just… news reports, you know. That… that Stain fellow has been… about."

Rei's hair stirs. Izuku is tempted to question her further, but something tells him he isn't going to get much out of her. "Oh. Well, do you need me for anything else?"

"No, you're free to go," she says. "And remember what I said to you before—I meant it. No more injuries like this, do you hear me?"

"Yes, ma'am." Izuku slips out of the office again and into the hall.

It's still quite early, but he might as well get to class. Iida will probably be there by now, and it'll be nice to catch up with him after a weekend of radio silence. As he makes his way through the halls, Izuku pulls out his phone and checks his news app for reports of Stain. There are quite a few of them, though details are fuzzy. Apparently he struck again sometime over the weekend, but reporters are still waiting on definitive details.

That's… worrying. Usually, if the press is being held back from reporting on big hero-related stories, there's a reason for it. No wonder Recovery Girl's worried.

He reaches the 1-A class room and pushes the door open. "Morning, Iida—" His voice trails off when he finds himself talking to an empty room. "Huh. Well that's a first," he remarks to Rei. "I must be pretty early if I beat Iida to class." His voice is light, and there's no reason for it not to be light, but his heart feels heavy with dread and he doesn't know why.

Nothing for it. All he can do is set his bag down at his desk and wait for everyone else to arrive.

The news story breaks today.

Tenya wants to count himself lucky, really. Not everyone is this fortunate.

The story could have broken yesterday, or on Saturday. But the agency has been fighting tooth and nail to hold back the press, giving his family the time they need to brace themselves, shore up their defenses for the coming publicity storm.

Publicity. As if that's their biggest concern. As if privacy and convenience even register in Tenya's mind as something worth worrying about.

No, he has far greater concerns. Like coming to school, facing a bombardment of familiar faces and voices after turning off his phone for the past two days. Like limping through his duties as class representative—because nothing can get in the way of those. He can't let responsibility fall to the wayside just because—

Just because…

No.

He can do this. He can make it through the day. He can function like a human being and pretend that he isn't falling apart, that the sky isn't crumbling and his world isn't coming to an end. He can pretend that it… that it doesn't…

At least he still managed to arrive early. At least he has that. He can sit by himself in an empty classroom and gird himself to get through the day and get through the storm that will hit when the story breaks. He can do this.

He opens the door and steps into the classroom.

It's not empty.

Part of him screams silently, Turn and run. Leave before he sees. Hide it before you give it away.

The rest of him whispers, It's just Midoriya.

"Good morning, Iida!" his friend turns to look at him with a smile so bright that Tenya almost doesn't notice the scars around his eye. Before Tenya can properly steel himself and put on the front that he needs, their eyes meet, and he sees his friend's smile freeze.

He sees. He sees. Just one look and you already gave it away—

"Ah, good morning, Midoriya!" he greets, and forces a boisterous tone into his voice like his life depends on it. Midoriya is staring at him, smile gone cold and rapidly slipping from his face. His friend is on his feet, stepping away from his desk. "Sorry if I look a little under the weather! I had—a-a busy morning!" He smiles, and it hurts. "And goodness, I wasn't expecting you here so early! Is it a special occasion, or…?" Midoriya crosses the room, nearly kicking a desk out of the way. "Midoriya, is something—?"

He doesn't get any further, because Midoriya closes the distance between them in four more steps, and his arms are around Tenya's shoulders and pulling him into a rough hug before Tenya knows quite what is happening.

"M-Midoriya?" His heart gives a painful lurch. He freezes, not knowing what to do, what to say, how to react. "I-I… what are you…?"

Midoriya doesn't reply, unless tightening his arms around Tenya can be considered an answer.

How does he know?

How could he possibly—?

"I'm all right, you know," Tenya says, and he's a terrible liar. He can't even keep his voice from cracking. "I'm quite… I'm…"

His vision blurs. He feels Midoriya's hand against the back of his head, and he doesn't know, he don't know how he could have possibly given himself away so easily, but there are arms around him for the first time in what feels like far too long. He should pull back and step away before this goes on any longer, before someone else walks into class and sees, but there are arms around him and he can't.

But he will. He'll step back. He'll brush Midoriya away and maybe, just maybe, ask his friend how he could possibly have known.

He will.

Just… later.

It's a moment before Izuku feels Iida's arms wrap hesitantly around him, like he isn't sure it's allowed. People are funny like that, when they're hurting. They're shy. You could take them in your arms, bend an ear to all their pain, and they'll still shrink away like they think you'll hate them for doing what you've invited them to do.

He should say something. Anything. There must be something he can say, something he can think of that…

No.

There really is nothing, is there.

He can't talk anyway, because he knows that if he tries to talk, he'll start crying. It's bad enough that he's done this much. It's bad enough that Iida may ask questions that Izuku doesn't know how to answer.

But he couldn't do nothing. He can't do nothing.

Even if all he can do for now is hug his friend as tight as he can, as tears gather and ready themselves to fall, and stare over Iida's shoulder to meet Iida Tensei's blank white eyes.

Notes: