Chapter 19

"You can see me. Right?"

Izuku nods—barely. Class won't start for another fifteen minutes are so, and the room is still only half full. Iida is nearly a perfect image of poise right now, sitting straight-backed at his desk like he always is, as if there aren't barely-noticeable wet spots on Izuku's school blazer right now.

Iida Tensei is no longer hovering over his brother's shoulder, because he's moved to hover over Izuku's instead. He looks pretty normal, as ghosts go, and Izuku's privately glad of that. He doesn't really want to know what a murder victim of Stain's might look like.

"I don't understand," Tensei says. "You're—you're Midoriya, right? Tenya's told me about you. He said your quirk was strength, and…"

Izuku takes out his notebook and a pencil. It's complicated, he writes. Seeing ghosts is the power I was born with. The strength came later.

The air around him drops a little in temperature when Iida's brother leans in to read over his shoulder. "Oh," he says, and sounds confused.

Izuku keeps writing. I'm sorry that this happened to you.

"It's… It's my own fault," Tensei says softly. "I shouldn't have been alone. Especially against an enemy with a reputation like that. But I wasn't thinking straight. I wasn't thinking at all. And now…" Izuku looks up to see Tensei looking across the room to where Iida sits.

Gently he nudges Tensei for attention and writes another note. Is there anything I can do to help?

"H-huh?"

If there's anything you want to say to him, I can try to pass the message along.

"Pass the—does he know?" Tensei asks. "About what you can do?"

Izuku shakes his head. I can find a way. I always do.

The ghost of Ingenium is quiet for a moment. "I… thank you. For offering. And thank you for—when Tenya walked in—well. It means a lot to me. And I'll think about it, but for now… not yet." His hands wring at his sides. He looks fuzzy around the edges; he's not unstable, but that doesn't mean he isn't still upset.

Offer's always open, Izuku writes. He looks again, pursing his lips, and takes in Tensei's quiet misery. He's watching Iida again, but not yet moving back to him—swaying forward, but not quite taking the steps. Izuku has seen pictures of Ingenium, videos of his heroics and the like, and he never imagined him looking so hopelessly lost.

Mindful of how close Bakugou is in front of him, he barely moves his mouth as he says under his breath, "Do you want to talk? If you do, I'll listen."

Tensei moves closer, either to catch Izuku's words or because the offer tempts him. He wavers. "I don't want to burden you with it. It… it isn't nice, what happened to me."

"Try me," Izuku murmurs back. "You wouldn't be the first. I can handle—"

Bakugou whirls around in his seat, spitting with rage. "For fuck's sake, Deku, stop goddamn muttering!" he snaps. Izuku shuts his mouth and shrugs at Tensei.

The ghost is quiet for a moment. Izuku waits patiently.

"There isn't even that much to tell," Tensei bursts out in a sudden rush, like it's something he's been dying (ha, ha) to get off his chest. "It wasn't—it wasn't what I thought it would be. I mean—fuck." Izuku blinks, vaguely surprised to hear language like that from his straitlaced friend's older brother. "You get these visions in your head, you know? When you're a pro, or—God, you don't even have to be a pro, I bet you get little fantasies like that, too. Putting your life on the line for others. Dying like a martyr in the line of duty. Going down fighting. Bravery and sacrifice and glory, and—" He stops short, and one glance tells Izuku that it's because he's trying not to cry. "But it's not like that. He just—I—I shouldn't have been there. I shouldn't have taken him on alone, because he—I couldn't even tell what he did. I couldn't move. Haha. Ha." A bitter little laugh tumbles out of his mouth. "Me, the hero that relies on speed. I couldn't move. No one knew that I was there. He could take his time. He could talk, and gloat, and watch me squirm. And then… I don't know if he ran out of things to say, or he got bored, or…" The ghost's voice trails off. "I didn't die right away. I was still sort of… there… when he left. And when he was gone, I thought maybe I'd get lucky. Maybe someone would find me. Maybe I could get out of it alive, and see my brother again."

Izuku hears his next words as loud and clear as if Tensei were whispering them in an empty room.

"But nobody came."

The empty desk next to him scrapes out of the way, and suddenly Kirishima's there. In a moment of mild panic, Izuku slaps his notebook shut.

"Midoriya! Heya, I didn't get to talk to you after the Festival, and I just wanted to tell youwhoooaaaa." Izuku looks up at him, and finds Kirishima inches away from his face, staring goggle-eyed at him. "Dude! Your face looks rad!"

Izuku's mind is a noisy mess. "Um."

"I'm serious!" Kirishima's sharp teeth show in a wide grin. "I'm not making fun of you, I promise, I really think you're scar looks awesome! It's, like, the halfway point between me and Todoroki!" His eyes widen further, which shouldn't even be possible. "Dude. That's from Todoroki's ice punch, isn't it?"

"W-well, uh…"

Todoroki picks that moment to slip in and take his seat, and Kirishima sees Izuku's line of vision move. He looks over his shoulder and gives a cheery grin and wave. Todoroki's nose, Izuku notices, is still visibly crooked.

Luckily, class starts soon after, forcing Izuku into something resembling a better headspace once he has other things to focus on. Aizawa's bandages are off, but that just means everyone can see the scarring on his face. If even Recovery Girl couldn't fix that, then that probably means those marks are going to stick with him for good.

(When Aizawa passes by Iida's desk on the way in, does he surreptitiously rest his hand on Iida's shoulder, just for a moment? It's too quick to catch.)

Izuku can't help it; his mouth drops open when Aizawa puts the draft nomination numbers up on the board. Bakugou and Todoroki have far and away the most, both of them numbering in the thousands. Uraraka and Iida are both up there, too, and even Sero managed to grab a few nominations for himself.

And as for Izuku…

He spots his name at the bottom. He's tied with Sero.

Beside him, Rei pats his shoulder excitedly and dances in place, and in spite of himself, he sits a little taller. Uraraka twists around in her seat to grin at him, and he smiles back.

Midnight-sensei joins the class shortly after that, to help with the other focus for today:

Hero names.

The class descends into a brainstorming session, and Izuku is hard-pressed not to knock his head repeatedly against his desk. He's dreamed of this for years. He's imagined having his own hero code name practically since he first learned to talk. But whenever he tried to brainstorm before… all he ever came up with were variations on All-Might.

Of course he did. He was a kid, and All-Might was who he wanted to be like. But now…

It just feels too childish. Too embarrassing. If he can't measure up to All-Might yet, then it'd be way too presumptuous to name himself after him.

Not to mention a little on-the-nose—his connection to All-Might is supposed to be a secret, after all.

Mind blank, Izuku looks around at his classmates. Everyone's murmuring together, laughing at each other's attempts, bouncing ideas off each other… It seems like everyone has more ideas, and better ideas, than he does.

The only ones who are being remotely quiet about it are Todoroki, and Iida. Todoroki's always quiet, and Iida…

"I didn't get to tell him."

Tensei's back.

Izuku looks up at him and tilts his head, asking his question silently.

"I didn't—I didn't get to tell him…" Tensei's pale hands curl into fists. "There is something, Midoriya. I don't know if you can find a way to tell him, in a way that… that won't hurt him. So you don't have to tell him yet. But…" The devastation on his face is raw. "I realized something, right at the last minute. I-I mean, when I—when Stain was—" He stops short, shutting his eyes tight for a moment. "There was a moment when I realized, 'This is it. This is where I die. The last thing I ever said to Tenya really is the last thing.'" Tears leak out from between his eyelids. "And I realized there was one more thing I wanted to tell him. So if you can—if you ever find a way to tell him the truth about what you can do…" The dead hero's blank eyes turn to him, desperate and pleading. "Tell him I want him to have my name. Tell him I want Ingenium to live on through him."

Izuku's heart lurches, and he gives the smallest nod he can manage. "I'll try," he whispers.

"Deku!" Uraraka hops into his space, hands braced on his desk with the pinkies raised to keep from activating her quirk. "Any ideas? I think I've got mine."

"I'm coming up empty," Izuku admits. His voice cracks on the way out, and he coughs a little.

"You okay?" Uraraka cocks her head to the side, almost birdlike. "Is something going on with you and Iida? You both have been sort of weird today."

"I can't say," Izuku says, which is a wonderful phrase because of how ambiguous and misleading it is. "This name thing is sort of taking all my thoughts right now."

"I'm kind of surprised. You're the biggest hero fanboy I know—did you really never imagine what your name might be if you ever became one?"

"Well, yeah." Izuku pulls a wry face. "Doesn't mean any of them were usable."

Uraraka giggles. "Oh c'mon, I bet you can't think of anything worse than Bakugou," she says, as if he isn't sitting in the desk right in front of them.

Bakugou hears it and twists around in his own seat, face thunderous. "Deku, I swear to fuck," he snarls. "One word, and I'll make your right eye match your left."

And—

As Rei responds with a challenging hiss, Izuku blinks at him, shocked. It's not that he isn't used to Bakugou's threats and insults. But he's also used to the feelings that come with them. He's used to the spike in fear, and the sickening dread that fouls his stomach. He's used to feeling small whenever he hears his old nickname in Bakugou's voice.

And… he doesn't, this time.

Bakugou's tone and temper make him tense, but the word Deku falls effortlessly on his ears and skims off of him harmlessly. When did that start happening?

Maybe, he thinks, it started when 'Deku' stopped meaning 'useless' and started meaning 'I can do it.'

"Deku?" Uraraka ducks into his line of vision. "You sort of spaced out there, are you okay?"

"Yeah," he blurts out. "I'm… yeah, I'm okay."

It's no small thing, reclaiming a name that has been used to grind him under someone's heel since he was small. But he does it, and the look on Bakugou's face is priceless.

(Iida doesn't take a hero name. Izuku wrestles with the message locked behind his tongue, and feels Tensei's eyes bore into him from across the room.)

Izuku knows it's coming when Iida doesn't join him and Uraraka for lunch. He feels the dread gathering like syrupy storm clouds in his stomach, and he knows Uraraka suspects something. She's too smart to have missed the way he dodged her question earlier, and she sees through his carefully noncommittal noises when she wonders aloud where Iida's gone.

It happens when lunch is maybe half over. Izuku feels jittery, enough to burn off excess nervous energy by browsing his phone. He hits the news app, refreshes it a few time, and there it is.

Iida Tensei, the hero Ingenium, was found dead on Saturday. The Hero Killer made no attempt to hide his involvement; Stain was behind this, and he wanted everyone to know about it.

Of course, this is not news to Izuku. He's been talking to Tensei's ghost out of the corner of his mouth all morning.

He imagines, for a moment, that the buzz of the cafeteria hall gets a little quiet. Not all at once, just in fits and spurts, sections at a time as people check their own news feeds and share with the people around them. He imagines eyes on them, people looking instinctively to their table, where Ingenium's younger brother always sits. He has no idea if that's really happening or not, and there's no real way to tell.

Beside him, he hears Uraraka's soft gasp.

"Oh no." The quiet horror in her voice wrenches his head back into the space it was in when Tensei was telling him how he died. Izuku puts down his chopsticks. Suddenly, the thought of food makes his stomach roil. "Oh, Iida…"

Izuku is out of his seat in a flash, barely registering Uraraka's voice. "Deku? Deku, wait a minute—"

"Bathroom," he says, and walks out of the cafeteria before he can say or do something embarrassing. Or worse, incriminating.

He walks, turning corners at random until he finds an empty section of the hallway where he can lean against the wall and slide down to the floor. Dimly he's aware of Rei hovering nearby, not close enough to crowd him, but close enough that he knows she's there. He puts his head between his knees and breathes.

He's always known that a hero's life is dangerous. He never knew the hero Ingenium before he showed up as a ghost.

But—

This is the first time that the danger has fully struck him. The USJ came close, because he nearly died and Aizawa nearly died, but they still got out of it.

And

This is the first time he's ever seen a ghost with a face he recognized.

And it isn't fear building and churning in his chest, because the fear's always been there and it's more like an annoying roommate than a weakness, but the roiling pressure won't go away. It's not fear, but it's a lot of things, sadness and anger and so many other things that he can't put a name to.

"Kiddo?"

He jolts, but he knows the voice. Ms. Shimura stands over him, and then she crouches by him, not keeping her distance quite as well as Rei does.

"Hey. Kiddo, hey." Cool hands press the sides of his head, and Izuku half-chokes on a sob and hopes that no one living walks by and sees him. "Toshi's on his way, I think. Just hang tight, okay?"

And that's fine, he thinks. He's not sure what he'd do if one of his classmates showed up, or some stranger who doesn't know him. But if it's just All-Might… then that's okay.

Hastily he struggles to his feet and wipes his eyes on instinct, even though they technically aren't wet yet. True to Ms. Shimura's word, he hears his mentor's distinctive heavy footsteps, and All-Might steps around the corner in his hero form. He isn't smiling.

"I was hoping for a word, my boy," he says. His voice is oddly gentle, and that sounds strange when it comes from him in this form. "Just a quick one. I'm sure you saw the news."

Izuku nods shakily.

"I saw you hurrying out of the cafeteria just now," All-Might says. "I thought that might have been what spooked you."

"I'm not," Izuku rasps out. His throat feels like sandpaper. "I'm not—I'm not scared. I-I mean, I am, but…" He sucks in a breath. "That's not… that's not why…"

All-Might is quiet for a moment, and Izuku privately wonders how much time he has in this form. "Do you want to talk about it? I'm not sure how much help I can be, but—"

"I'm mad." It comes out as a hiss, spat out through his teeth even as he feels tears well up in his eyes. "Or I'm sad. I'm both and I don't know what to do with it." He shoves his hands in his pockets, because he can't get the damn things to stop shaking.

"That's understandable, my boy." All-Might rests a hand lightly on his shoulder. In the back of his mind, Izuku wonders at how gentle a hand that size can be. "And believe you me, the Hero Killer will be stopped—"

"It shouldn't have happened," Izuku blurted. He's not sure why the words are spilling out; it's not like he has anything to prove. It's not like All-Might is likely to disagree. "It shouldn't have—everyone says he preaches about phony heroes—" The words taste foul as he spits them out. "And nobody deserves that but this was Ingenium, and he was good and—" The tears that come out feel so hot with anger that they nearly scald on their way down his face. He thinks of Tensei telling him but nobody came. "And I'm mad because he was Iida's brother and Iida loved him and Stain left him in an alley like he was trash."

The hand on his shoulder moves to his head, ruffling his hair gently as if he's a little kid, and in spite of himself, Izuku leans into the touch.

"You're right to be angry," All-Might tells him.

Izuku wipes his face on his sleeve. "Sorry I'm crying again."

"I think the situation calls for it, don't you?" All-Might says gently. "Because like you said—you're angry, and you're sad, and you have every right to be."

"I'm worried about Iida," Izuku sniffles. "And I feel really useless, and that just makes the worrying worse."

"You aren't useless," All-Might informs him. "But if you feel that way, and you are worried for your friend, then why not put the two together? Be there for your classmate. Ask him what he needs. Make sure he knows that he is not alone." He lifts his hand away. "I'll do what I can, of course, as his teacher. But at times like these, young Iida needs his friends."

Izuku nods. "Okay."

All-Might's phone chimes in his pocket, and he startles a little. "Ah—I'd better get back to the lounge. Will you be all right from here, my boy?"

"I'll be fine," Izuku says. "Thanks, All-Might."

"Anytime, my boy." His steps are hurried as he leaves.

Ms. Shimura lingers a while longer. "I can't speak for your friend," she says. "No one can, really. I think your best bet is to ask, always. Don't push."

"I know," Izuku says, wiping his eyes again. "I just—I wish I could do more."

"You're just like Toshi," Ms. Shimura sighs. "Sometimes I stop to wonder why he picked you, but I never wonder very long. You're like peas in a pod."

Izuku laughs softly. "Hey, Ms. Shimura?"

She pauses, looking like she's about to move off. "Yeah, beansprout? What is it?"

"Are you ever going to tell me who you are?"

Rei moves in the corner of his vision, catching his attention for a split second. When he looks back, Ms. Shimura is gone.

A stroke of luck comes his way by the end of the school day, in the form of a ghost. More specifically, this ghost is not a pro hero, or anyone recognizable. He's an elderly man, clutching at Izuku's arm with cold, wrinkled hands and a frantic plea. Izuku listens, and finds both a problem and, possibly, a solution.

If one more well-wisher comes up to him with condolences, Tenya is going to scream.

The story broke during lunch, and it feels as if half the school has trooped by him over the course of the day, with I'm-sorry's and My-thoughts-are-with-you's and more platitudes that do little more than burn in Tenya's ears. He doesn't want to walk around and absorb strangers' sympathies like a passive waste of space; he wants to go out and do something, but there's nothing he can do. He's not a hero, and he can't track down Stain by himself, which is what the dark, ugly part of his heart desperately wants. Even his family has been treating him with kid gloves, taking away every possible burden he could take on, and that's kind of them but it leaves him nothing to do.

Even Yaoyorozu has offered to shoulder more responsibilities as assistant class rep, and Tenya had to argue with her just to get her to let him continue as normal.

If anyone comes up to him to take away more things for him to do, then he's only going to feel more helpless. And he's been drowning in helplessness since Saturday.

"Iida?"

"What." It comes out much, much harsher than he intended, because it's the end of the day and he's almost free to go home and do absolutely nothing. Mortified, he turns to find Midoriya looking at him with his newly scarred face, and wishes for a moment that he had a quirk that would let him sink into the floor. "I-I—Midoriya, forgive me—"

"Are you free today?" Midoriya asks, without preamble. "I could use your help with something, if you have time after school."

Tenya gapes at him.

"It's fine if you don't," Midoriya adds. "I was just wondering—"

"I do," Tenya says quickly. "I mean—I would be happy to assist you, Midoriya. And I'm grateful—er. I'm glad you trust me enough to ask." Was that an odd way to phrase it?

"Oh, good. So you're sure you're not busy?"

Tenya thinks for a moment of his mother, shooing away his offers to help shoulder the fallout of Tensei's death, and encouraging him to 'take time to himself.' "Not particularly."

Midoriya grins. "That's good. It's just—someone asked me for a favor and it's gonna take me to another part of town, and I could use your help if that's okay with you."

For one wild moment, Tenya strongly considers hugging his friend, or maybe asking if he doesn't have an extra quirk that lets him read minds and somehow know exactly what to say. He decides against both. "I would love to."

And so, Tenya finds himself tagging after Midoriya once the final bell rings. They take the train together, and Midoriya gives him an apologetic look beforehand; Tenya doesn't understand why until he realizes they're stuck in a crowded train car full of people liable to recognize him. Tenya keeps his head down, and Midoriya holds him in conversation to discourage anyone from rudely interrupting.

Midoriya is… cautious. Unsure of himself. Hesitant, even. But it manifests as a sort of general awkwardness, rather than handling Tenya with kid gloves.

"A department store?" Tenya says when they walk up to their first stop.

"Yeah," Midoriya says. "There's a pet supply store up top, and I need to pick up a couple things."

"For your cat, I presume?"

"No, for, uh… this thing we're doing," Midoriya says as they enter the building. "Basically, uh, someone abandoned a dog and now it's under someone's house and won't leave, so… yeah. We're gonna get it out and take it to a shelter, if that's cool with you."

Tenya blinks at him, surprised. "I didn't know you did animal rescue."

"I-I don't, I mean… not regularly," Midoriya says cautiously. "But, well… I've done stuff like this a couple of times, and word gets around, and… yeah." He shrugs.

"I see," Tenya says, pausing at the elevator. "Top floor, you said?"

"Yeah. Um, I'm gonna take the stairs." Midoriya points to the door by the elevators. "If you wanna come too, or if you just wanna meet me up there, that's fine."

"Oh," Tenya says, faintly surprised. "All the way to the top?"

"Can't skip leg day," Midoriya says simply.

Was that a dig at Tenya's quirk? If it is, then it's the first time anyone's tried joking with him since this afternoon. It actually kind of makes him want to laugh. "I'm right behind you," he says, and follows Midoriya into the stairwell.

"Also," Midoriya says, when they're about halfway up. "Elevators are awkward. I figured… maybe you wouldn't want to get stuck in one with people who might know your face."

For a moment, Tenya stares at him, touched. "I… thank you, Midoriya," he says. "That's very thoughtful of you."

"Well I'm a thoughtful person. That's what I'm good at, thinking. Sometimes way too much, and out loud."

Tenya manages a short, quiet little laugh at that. It's the most he's done since Saturday.

Midoriya purchases a small bag of dog treats and the cheapest leash, and another short train ride takes them to a residential neighborhood. They make conversation along the way—from casual, meaningless small talk to discussions of class topics. Midoriya is strangely easy to talk to, mostly because he does so much talking himself that Tenya's tired brain doesn't have to work much to participate. It's restful, almost. That Midoriya gives the subject of Tensei and Stain a wide berth is an extra courtesy.

He has to wonder, a few times, if Midoriya isn't distracted by something. He keeps getting these odd looks, as if he's thinking about something else. Or he'll seem to look at something over Tenya's shoulder, but when Tenya tries to follow his gaze, he doesn't see anything.

Ah, well. It's not as if this is anything new. Midoriya has always been an odd one.

"Midoriya," Tenya says at one point, when his friend pauses. "May I ask you something?"

"Sure."

Tenya braces himself. "How did you know?"

Midoriya looks at him blankly. "Know what?"

"This morning," Tenya continues. "The news story hadn't broke yet. It didn't until lunch. So this morning, when I walked in and you saw me… how did you know?"

It takes Midoriya a while to answer. Tenya's starting to wonder if he'll answer at all when Midoriya gives a little shrug. "Something about the look on your face."

"I thought I was being so careful," Tenya says. "It fooled everyone else all day."

"I have good instincts."

There's a note in Midoriya's voice that sounds… off, somehow. Tenya knows damned well how to tell when he's being brushed off. "Midoriya…"

"You just looked like you needed a hug," Midoriya says. "I wasn't gonna press you for details."

Except, that sounds wrong. That sounds too uncertain to match up with the look that Tenya remembers seeing on Midoriya's face—that cold, dawning horror. Midoriya talks as if it was a vague feeling with no context, no details, nothing concrete. But that dismay in his eyes had been a little too sharp for that to make sense.

"Midoriya, I consider you a good friend," Tenya says carefully. "I trust you a great deal, and I don't want to accuse you of anything. If you're not comfortable talking about it, then that's fine. But… that sounds like a lie."

He expects Midoriya to brush it off, or backpedal, or get defensive about it. But instead Midoriya hums softly to himself, a thoughtful little sound, and stares forward into the middle distance.

"Don't take it personally," he says. "I lie to everyone."

Izuku finds the house that the elderly ghost had directed him to, and knocks politely at the door. A woman answers promptly. "Hello!" he says. "I, uh, called earlier? I heard about the dog, so…"

She looks relieved. "Oh, right. Well, you're welcome to try and get it out—here, it's in the side yard, let me show you…"

The woman leads them to the side of the house, where there's a small gap that can just barely fit a person through, leading into the dark space beneath the house. "It's down there," she says, stooping a little, but it's hard to see beyond the first few feet. "We just bought the house and moved in a couple of weeks ago. I think the previous owner died and his dog must have gotten out."

She isn't wrong, Izuku knows. The previous owner did die; he's the one who asked Izuku to come. What this lady doesn't know is that his family sold the house and left without bothering to rehome his dog.

"How very irresponsible," Iida remarks. The woman looks at him, surprised, and Izuku sees recognition flicker in her eyes.

"Um, aren't you—" she begins.

"Is it okay if we take a while with this?" Izuku asks. "It might take a few hours to convince her to come out."

"Oh, well, that's all right," she says, apparently unperturbed by his interruption. "As long as you can take care of the poor thing. I'd take it myself, but my husband's allergic, and neither of us have the time anyway."

"Okay, well, thank you." Izuku gives her a polite smile.

"Oh no, thank you," she says.

She leaves them to it, and Izuku seats himself by the gap that leads to the crawl space beneath the house. It's dark and cramped further in, but Izuku holds out his phone to illuminate it. Toward the back of the space, he sees the light reflect off a pair of eyes.

"Ah, I saw it!" Iida crouches by him. "Do you think one of us can fit under there?"

"Might not be a good idea," Izuku says. "It's pretty small and cramped, and if we crowd her she might panic."

"Good point. What would you suggest, then?"

Izuku shrugs. "Talk quietly, throw in some treats every now and then, and see if she gets used to us being here. Might take a while."

"That's fine." Iida shifts to sit more comfortably in the dirt beside him. "My mother hasn't been letting me help much with…" His voice trails off.

"He finds things to do when he's upset," Tensei explains. He's off to the side, where Rei is teaching him clapping games. "It's how he copes. If he can't keep busy in a crisis, he stresses himself to death."

Izuku nods. "Well, thanks for coming," he says. "Stuff like this… it gets pretty boring sometimes."

"It's no trouble at all," Iida says. He takes a treat out of the bag, aims carefully, and tosses it toward the back of the space. Silence follows, and then rustling and crunching.

"Well, that's a start," Izuku says.

Sure enough, they're there for a while, sitting and talking, plying the dog under the house with a treat every now and then. Izuku's eyes start to adjust to the dark, and he watches as the mound of fur gradually moves closer.

It's a quiet day. Izuku could be doing other things, like training, or focusing on his hero studies. They both could. But there's plenty of time for that tomorrow. And besides—there's a dog that needs help, and an elderly ghost worrying about the poor thing, and that's reason enough to stick around.

The dog is a little over halfway to the opening when Izuku's phone vibrates in his pocket. He wrestles it out and checks his latest text message.

[4:42] Todoroki:

I'm free today, in case you're still interested in what we were talking about earlier.

Izuku winces a little. Todoroki had said Mondays and Wednesdays were good for him, and it had been Izuku's idea. But he can hardly leave Iida now, when they're wrist-deep in dirt and making very slow progress that still counts as progress. The last thing he wants to do is give up. If he gives up, it will just be one more heavy thing following him around until he takes care of it.

Besides, after today… he's not sure he's in the right state of mind to be throwing punches at people.

[4:43] Izuku:

i'm kinda in the middle of something rn

i'm sorry! It just kinda came up

i'm close by 2-3-1 kiyashi if you wanna hang out tho

He means it as a joke, and is therefore very surprised when Todoroki actually shows up.

Shouto isn't sure what he expects, but this definitely isn't it. The neighborhood is a nice one, very quiet and respectable-looking, and also nowhere near where Midoriya or Iida actually live. So that's why he's a little confused to find his classmates here on a school day.

It takes a moment or two of searching to find them, but he eventually catches sight of Midoriya's distinctive hair on the other side of a low fence. He's not alone, either; Shouto's spent enough time in class to know what the back of Iida's head looks like. He walks over, and—it's something of a point of pride for him, that he's trained himself to move noiselessly when he wants to. It's useful for avoiding his father's attention, and for avoiding attention in general. But Midoriya looks up and meets his eyes well before Shouto even reaches the fence.

"What are you doing?" Shouto asks.

Midoriya stares at him owlishly from where he and Iida are sitting in a patch of dirt in front of a dark hole leading under the house. "I didn't think you'd actually show up," he blurts.

Todoroki blinks at him, stuffing the sudden feeling of embarrassment deep, deep down inside. Midoriya must have meant the invitation as a joke, and he'd taken it literally. "Should I leave?"

"Nah," Midoriya says. His voice is strangely quiet. "Unless you want to."

"Just try to keep quiet," Iida adds, and it's odd to hear him talk so softly. "You might scare her." He reaches into the bag sitting between him and Midoriya, and tosses something under the house. Shouto's sharp ears pick up the sound of rustling from somewhere in the darkness. Curiosity overtakes him, and he carefully hops the fence and goes to sit down on Midoriya's other side.

"So what exactly—?"

"There's a dog," Midoriya says, gesturing vaguely to the space under the house.

"She was just left here." There's a note of disgust in Iida's voice. "Who would do that, to a dog?" He shakes his head. "She's apparently been here a couple weeks. The homeowners have been feeding her, but she's scared."

"We've been trying to get her to trust us," Midoriya says. "She's a lot closer than she was two hours ago."

Shouto cranes his neck, and catches sight of what looks like a dirty pile of fur, just barely visible in the dark, about three feet in. "Why not go in after it?"

"It might startle the dog," Iida says. "She's not very big, but she can still bite."

"Oh." Shouto hesitates, and eyes the bag of dog treats. "Can I try?"

They sit there for another twenty minutes before the dog finally wanders within reach. It's Iida who reaches in first, muttering "Good dog, please don't bite me, please don't bite me," before gently brushing his fingers along the dog's muzzle. It pulls away at first, but another treat calms it, and it lets Iida touch it again.

Finally, it crawls out of the darkness and approaches them, tail between its legs. It's a fluffy little white spitz, or at least it was at one point. It's now a mess of matted, dirty, probably flea-infested fur, and when Midoriya gingerly coaxes its head through a looped leash, it shivers. It's another ten minutes before it finally relaxes enough to lie down and eat another treat.

"I know a rescue that can take her," Midoriya says. "They'll take care of her, clean her up and have a vet look at her and stuff."

"How often do you do this?" Shouto asks.

"Do what? This specifically, or…?"

Iida gives him a quizzical look. "What do you mean?"

"I mean, sometimes," Midoriya says. "It's not always this, but it is sometimes. It's just… favors, I guess."

"To anyone in particular?" Iida asks.

"Not really. Just anyone who asks. Sometimes animals are involved. More often than I'd like."

Shouto blinks at him, mildly baffled.

They take the dog out of the yard and out to the sidewalk.. "Well, I was happy to help," Iida says. "Even though—to be honest, Midoriya, I'm not sure you really needed me. If you've done this before, then you probably had this well in hand."

"Oh, I did," Midoriya replies.

"Then why—?"

"Sometimes everything's awful," Midoriya says, as the smudged white dog trembles at his feet. He stoops to offer another treat, and the dog takes it gently from his hand. "Or it feels like it, anyway. And you think, what's the point of everything if it's just going to come back around to awful again?" He runs his fingers lightly over the dog's ear. "And when that happens—when I feel like that, I just find something… useful to do. Something that helps someone, and doesn't have anything to do with what upset me. Doesn't matter who, doesn't matter why. If I can do it, then anyone can do it, and anyone will do it." He shrugs. "I dunno. I guess it just reminds me that if I can do things that matter to someone, then maybe everything doesn't have to be hopeless bullshit." Iida blinks in surprise, but Shouto has already heard Midoriya curse before.

"It still feels like it," Iida says quietly.

"I know," Midoriya says. "I don't know if that goes away."

"It doesn't," Shouto says bluntly. He knows it doesn't, because he's still waiting.

"I was just trying to help," Midoriya says. "It helps me to be helpful, sometimes. I don't know if you're the same, but I thought it was worth a try."

"I… to be honest, I'm not sure if it worked, either," Iida admits. "But… thank you, Midoriya. For trying."

"You're welcome." Midoriya stands up and dusts himself off, or tries to. "It's just—you can't fix everything, but just because things are awful doesn't mean you can't do something about them."

For a moment, there's a steely glint in Iida's eyes, but it's gone in the next. "I suppose you're right," he says. He checks his phone. "Ah—I should head home. My parents will be worrying."

"Alright," Midoriya says. "See you tomorrow, Iida."

Shouto watches his classmate go, only to glance over at Midoriya when the latter starts bouncing a little on the balls of his feet.

"I'm worried about him," Midoriya says. "I hope he talks to someone. Doesn't have to be me, just someone."

"Do you always drag people's problems out into the open?" Shouto asks, because he never did get a straight answer when he tried asking Bakugou.

"I'm nosy, sneaky, and I can't mind my own business," Midoriya replies.

"That's probably why you got three votes in the class election," Shouto tells him. Midoriya blinks and stares at him for a moment, and Shouto shrugs. He's glad he voted for Yaoyorozu, but if he had known what kind of person Midoriya was at the time, it might have at least taken him longer to decide. "After you deal with the dog, would you be up for a spar?"

Midoriya takes a deep breath and lets it out slowly. "You know what? Yes. Yes I am."

You can learn a lot about a person just from their fighting style.

For example, he learns that day that when Midoriya calls himself sneaky, he means it.