Chapter 23

"So what's the verdict?"

Besides "Hello," it's the first thing Toshinori has said to Gran Torino in decades. It's still all he can do to spit it out without tripping over his own tongue.

The first thing Gran Torino says to him in just as much time is "Where the hell did you find this kid?"

"It's… a long story." Toshinori cradles the phone against his ear and tries not to wince. "He didn't look like much at first, but… he showed promise. Shows promise, I mean."

A dry chuckle answers him. "Promise, that's one way of putting it."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean I had to knock him around a little on the first day just to get him to use his quirk, and he got frustrated and tried to punch me in the kidneys."

This time, Toshinori does wince. "Please tell me you didn't make him throw up."

"I didn't, but I made damn sure he didn't try it again," Torino says dryly. "Why I asked where you found him. I know you, brat—he sure as hell didn't learn that from you."

"Well, he… has an eye for spotting weaknesses," Toshinori says sheepishly. "He's an odd one, but… driven. Determined to help, no matter the cost to himself."

"Sounds like some I could mention." Gran Torino goes quiet for a moment. "You hear about what happened in Hosu?"

"Hm? Oh, yes." The jitters are fading now, and Toshinori can just about relax. "Endeavor brought down the Hero Killer. I'm glad—one of my other students lost his brother to that man."

"That Iida Tenya kid, yeah," Gran Torino snorts. "And don't believe everything you hear on the news. Endeavor did jack all—your little golden boy and his friends were the ones to take him down."

Toshinori feels his heart drop to his stomach.

"Ingenium's little brother messed up his arms, and your boy looked half dead when I finally caught up to him," Torino goes on. "My fault. Lost track of him."

"He doesn't always follow directions," Toshinori says awkwardly.

"No kidding." Torino heaves a sigh. "But—listen. A coordinated villain attack like this. The League of Villains and the Hero Killer, working together all buddy-buddy?"

His heart is heavy, and he nods, even though Torino has no way of seeing it. "Yes, I noticed it as well. It's too… perfect, somehow."

"You aren't the only one who can shout your arrival from the rooftops, Toshinori," Torino tells him. "Think about it—high profile villain like Stain. Skills and charisma to match. Polarizing at best. How many villains do you know who get their own damn merch? Then you have the League of Villains, who know how to make a bang but don't have much else going for 'em. Put 'em together, and what then?"

"They get attention," Toshinori says. "From everyone. Heroes, civilians… other villains."

"Man like Stain has ideals, Toshinori. People with ideals get followers. And now that it's been established—pretty damn publicly—that Stain was with the League before he got taken down…?"

Toshinori heaves a sigh, and sinks down into the nearest chair. "So Hosu was… what? A publicity stunt?"

"Try a recruitment event." He can almost hear Torino's teeth grinding over the phone. "And you think a man-child like that Shigaraki can think up something like that? No. Someone's pulling the strings." He stops, and within that silence, Toshinori's heart sinks further.

"You don't mean…"

"It's got his stink all over it," Torino says flatly. "The one who killed Shimura. Who almost tore you in half."

"He was supposed to have died," Toshinori whispers.

"Do you think I'm wrong?"

"N-no." Toshinori's hand tightens on the phone. "No, it's just…"

"Your boy hardly knows a thing," Torino interrupts. "About you. About her. He had quite a few interesting questions for me, and something tells me he'll have a few more for you."

"What did you tell him?"

"I told him about Nana."

Toshinori can't keep back his sharp intake of breath.

"Don't you hhhh me, brat, I didn't tell him anything that wasn't answering a question he asked! You should've been the one telling him this, not me!"

"I know," Toshinori blurts out. "I know. I'll… I'll talk to him." He rubs his forehead with his free hand. "It's past time I told him about…"

Gran Torino's voice is grim and quiet. "All For One."

The work experience week ends. Izuku gathers his things and leaves Gran Torino's…

Office? Apartment?

The case with his costume is lighter than Izuku remembers it. He has to wonder if it's a psychological thing, or maybe one week of getting thrashed by a senior citizen really has done wonders on his muscles.

If nothing else, it's been an interesting week. Besides learning to properly harness his power, helping to bring down the Hero Killer, and nearly dying several times, he's also had some lovely conversations with a few of the people haunting Torino's building. The girl who slipped and drowned in the bath eighty years back knows some good dirty jokes.

To say nothing of what he now knows about Ms. Shimura.

"Any more questions, kiddo?"

Izuku jumps, and turns to stare at the tiny old man standing at the door, watching him leave. "What?"

"Can't promise you Toshinori won't chicken out," Torino says dryly. "So—any last-minute wondering you've been doing, you might as well get it fixed now."

Izuku smiles. "Thanks for all your help," he says. "I won't waste it. Promise."

Torino snorts. "Better not. I'll have your hide if I hear you do. And I will hear. I have my ways."

"Me too." It slips out before Izuku can think better of it. It's fine if All-Might "chickens out." He'll find what he's looking for either way. He's going to get Ms. Shimura to talk to him, or die trying.

"Hey kid!" Torino barks, before Izuku can turn to leave. "I've got one question for you!"

Izuku looks at him.

There's a note of humor on the old hero's face. "Who are you?"

It brings him back to his first day, having that question shouted in his face. Izuku frowns, confused. "I'm… I'm Midoriya Izuku," he says. "I'm kind of… not anyone, yet."

"Bull." Torino shakes his head. "Besides, that ain't the name I was askin' for."

And Izuku must be all kinds of dense, because it takes him a moment to realize what Gran Torino is asking him. "Oh! It's—it's Deku." For a moment the name feels odd and awkward on his tongue, like he's a little kid trying to curse for the first time.

"You sure about that?" Torino asks. "The way you say it makes it sound more like an insult than a name."

Izuku shrinks a little. "It takes some getting used to," he admits. "Because… it kind of was?" At Torino's raised eyebrow, he shrugs. "But not anymore. It's mine now. My name. Myhero name. And nobody can use it to hurt me anymore." His hand tightens on the handle of the case. "If I can take a name like that and make it mine, then I can do the same with One For All." Finally he turns away, before he can see Torino's reaction. "Maybe it seems stupid, but it's still mine."

"One more question!" Torino calls after him. "Where the hell did Toshinori find you?"

"Under a bridge!" Izuku answers, without slowing or looking back. Torino's laughter follows him to the end of the block.

It's quiet when Shouto gets home, and he has learned to fear the quiet when his father is at home.

When Endeavor is away, the house is safe. When Endeavor is at home and the house is noisy, then at least Shouto knows where he is and what he's doing. Even if it's noisy because it's the middle of a training session and Endeavor is in his face with fire and fists, at least Shouto knows what to expect. It's familiar, and in this house, that's as safe as Shouto is going to get.

But now it's quiet, and Shouto's stomach twists and shreds itself with dread. His arm is still bandaged, with the dull ache and itch of a healing gash. In the wake of the Hosu incident, the hospital could not afford to waste healing quirks on a flesh wound. Right now, his arm is a weakness. And this house makes Shouto keenly aware of his weaknesses in a way that no other place does.

He wonders where his father is. What he's doing. They've arrived separately, but Shouto knows that Endeavor arrived first. Does the old man know he's here now, too?

Fuyumi is in the living room when Shouto walks in, and she looks up from the homework assignments she's grading. "Hey," she says, and her voice is as soft as ever. (Shouto has never heard Fuyumi shout.) "He got home ten minutes ago. He's been quiet. I can't tell what mood he's in."

Shouto nods dully.

"You okay?" His sister tilts her head, as if trying to angle herself into his line of vision. "You were right in the middle of that stuff in Hosu, huh?"

Shouto is about to reply when the floor creaks and his father steps into the room.

Todoroki Enji doesn't look at his daughter. He never does; by the way he treats her, Fuyumi is a houseguest at best and a tenant at worst. And when Shouto is in the room, he acts as if he has no older children at all. His firstborn is invisible to him, and Shouto wishes he could be so lucky.

"Damn legal system." Endeavor's voice is a growl. Shouto's stance shifts into something close to parade rest. "Hero Killer would've made a good debut, and those bastards hit us with a gag order." Flames wreathe his throat, flickering irately. "Giving me credit, as if I need a damn handout like that." His hard eyes bore into Shouto's. "And as for you…"

Shouto keeps his face carefully neutral.

His father moves before he has the chance to react. Shouto blinks, his teeth clack together with impact, and he finds his back pressed painfully to the wall, the back of his head tender from colliding with it. Endeavor is in his face, pinning him in place with a handful of Shouto's shirt in his fist.

"Do not ever—" his father snarls. "—disobey or ignore a direct command from me again. Do you understand me, Shouto?"

Over Endeavor's shoulder, Shouto can see Fuyumi rising from the couch with a look of alarm on her face.

"In the field, my word is gospel." Endeavor's eyes burn with anger. "In the future, you will listen. And you will do exactly as I say, when I say it. If I say jump, then you say 'how high.' So help me, Shouto, if you ever run off when I give you a command again, you'll wish you'd been born quirkless by the time I'm done with you."

I already do, sometimes .

Fuyumi hovers in the background, wide-eyed and shaking, mouth half open as if she's trying to gather her wits to speak up. Shouto urges her silence with a sharp motion of one hand, out of his father's line of vision.

"And do you honestly think I wasn't told the details of what actually happened?" his father demands. "I'm almost glad this ended with a gag order—I would have died of shame if word got out that you stayed in the background and let two of your competitors deal the final blow. It's as if you're doing your damnedest to look weak and make me look like a fool!"

His fist digs into Shouto's chest, pressing him painfully against the wall. Ice spreads from where his right shoulder touches it, but Shouto isn't paying attention to that.

What can his father do? Not kill him, certainly—that would be counter-productive. (Stain tried to kill him, and failed.) What can Endeavor do but shout and curse, or leave bruises and minor burns that a press of ice can treat? But Shouto doesn't think of that, or of the cold rage on Endeavor's face. He doesn't think of the fist against his chest, or how easy it would be for his father to lose control and let flames touch him.

Instead, he thinks of a smile.

Shouto knows what it's like to have it pointed at him. He'd thrown down the gauntlet, and Midoriya had answered him with a smile that showed all his teeth and fell just short of reaching his eyes. It was the sort of smile that stuck with you, that left things crawling on your back long after you stopped looking at it. It kept you asking questions, wondering if its wearer knew something you didn't. Why else would someone smile like that?

But then…

Shouto knowsother things now, too, like the limb-locking paralysis of the Hero Killer's quirk, and that split-second helpless terror of seeing death approach and having no way of stopping it. But he didn't have to stop it in the end, not with Midoriya Izuku crouched over him, eyes glinting eerily, almost glowing in the dimly lit alley, baring his teeth as if he was fully prepared to use them in the fight.

It turns out that smile means something very different when it's pointed at something that wants to hurt him.

Midoriya Izuku is frightening, and not in the way that Todoroki Enji is frightening. Endeavor is powerful and spiteful and angry, but his anger is ordinary and his desires are plain and transparent. Shouto knows what drives him; he knows what he's capable of and how far he'll go to get what he wants.

He doesn't know that about Midoriya. He's not sure he wants to know how far someone who smiles like that will go.

Just for an instant, Shouto imagines what it would feel like to see that smile pointed at Endeavor.

"Well?" His father's voice brings him back to the present. "Have you anything to say?"

And Shouto stares at him, numb and bewildered and wondering because—

"No," he says aloud, voice rasping. He can't speak his mind, not when all he can think is

My friend is scarier than you.

Izuku's shoes are barely off when his mother meets him at the entryway and catches him in a tight hug. Guilt fills him—he hadn't thought of her, hadn't thought of how she might feel, how she would worry—and he returns it without a word. The door behind them is shut, and their only company is Rei and Mika and maybe a couple of the other apartment ghosts—Mrs. Matsuda can be nosy sometimes. And so, with his mother's arms around him, Izuku lets the story fall from his lips. Ingenium's death and reappearance, Iida's grief, Izuku's own growing worries, all leading up to what happened in that Hosu alley.

His mother is quiet for a moment, still holding him. When at last she speaks, her voice is hushed. "You didn't go looking for… for Stain?" she says.

"I was looking for Iida." Izuku swallows painfully. "Because I—I thought he might go looking for Stain, and even if he didn't, Hosu was a… a mess. I was worried about him."

"And you called for help."

"I should've done it sooner," Izuku admits. "But, when Tensei showed up, I…" His voice catches. "I panicked."

"I don't know anything about, about heroics," she says, her voice muffled against his shoulder. "I don't know what to do or how to do it, but Izuku, I can't think of anything you did wrong. And you were still in danger."

"I did my best," Izuku whispers. "A-and… and Mom?"

Finally, she pulls back. Her eyes are red from crying. "Yes?"

"I've thought about it, and… y-you know what?" In spite of the tears, Izuku manages a smile of his own. "I don't know if I would've found Iida in time, if Tensei hadn't led me to him. And later, Rei brought Todoroki to help—I don't know how she did it, but she did. So that means… I was wrong." His vision blurs. "My quirk—my old quirk, I mean. My original quirk. I guess it can help me save people after all."

"I know you can," his mother replies. "If anyone can find a way, it's you, Izuku. Just be careful. Please, whatever else happens… be careful."

"I will, Mom."

She seems to rally herself, wiping the tears away. "Good. Now—are you hungry?"

Izuku smiles. "A little bit. Just give me a second to put my stuff in my room."

Morino meets him in the hallway before he reaches his bedroom, looking happy to see him. Izuku likes Morino; she's friendly and kind, and sometimes she'll help him calm Kurosawa down when the other ghost forgets that he's dead and returns to the day that armed burglar shot him in his own home. "Oh, good, you're back! She's been waiting for you since yesterday."

"Who?" Izuku blinks owlishly at her.

"Didn't catch her name, but she says she knows you," Morino replies, as Rei moves past them to go to Izuku's room. "Tall, black hair, looks like she could bench a guy twice her size? She seemed nice enough." Morino frowns. "Should I have chased her off, or…?"

"N-no, no it's fine…" Izuku's voice trails off, and he's already running for his bedroom. He steps inside, one hand reaching for the open door.

"Hi, kiddo." Ms. Shimura sits on his bed, hands folded in her lap. She's smiling, but her face is unreadable. "Did you have a good week?"

Izuku stares at her, speechless. He drops his things, turns, and walks back out toward the kitchen.

"Mom, I need to, um…" His thoughts are beginning to swirl, and he wrings his hands and wards off his daze. "In my room—there's someone I need to talk to."

She looks up from the stove with a look of concern on her face. "Everything all right?"

"Nothing dangerous. I just need to have a conversation and I don't know how long it'll take, sorry."

"Food won't be ready right away," she assures him. "Don't take any nonsense, now."

"Oh, I won't," he mutters.

When he returns, he closes his door behind him. Hopefully this won't end in him yelling, but at this point he can't be sure.

Silence stretches between them. Even Rei is quiet.

"So," Ms. Shimura says at last, her voice soft. "I take it from the look on your face, that… that you know a few more things—"

"Why didn't you tell me?" Izuku spits out.

Ms. Shimura falls silent, shutting her eyes. The corners of her mouth deepen.

Izuku grits his teeth, riding out the knot of hurt that rises and falls in his chest. "Why didn't you tell me you had One For All?" he asks. "You saw me, you knew—you knew I couldn't control it, and I was hurting myself, and I needed help, so why didn't you say anything?"

"I'm sorry, sprout—"

"I have a name!" Izuku bursts out, only to feel guilty instantly when she winces. "L-look. I just don't—I don't understand. Something this important—don't you care? If you had One For All, and I'm its next wielder, then… shouldn't it matter to you that I use it properly?"

"Of course it matters," she tells him.

"Then why didn't you say something?" he asks. "You knew I was struggling, so why—are you still mad at me for lying to All-Might? About my quirk?"

"No, that's not it at all!" She shakes her head, and her hands tighten into fists in her lap.

"Then why—" He stops short, because now he just sounds like he's whining. He grinds his teeth and forces himself to take a deep breath. When that doesn't quite slow his temper, he runs his fingers through his hair until they catch in the tangles. "L-look, I… I'm not… you've helped me, okay? Teaching me how to fight. A-and I'm grateful, I really am, but…" He raises his eyes and finds Ms. Shimura looking at him with sadness in her face. "I just don't understand why you wouldn't tell me what you were to him. A-and maybe I should've guessed, m-maybe I should've… but…"

His voice trails off, and Ms. Shimura hangs her head so that her hair falls over her face. "Midoriya, I…"

"You said before that… that you weren't sure I'd forgive you when I found out what you did to him," Izuku says. "What did you mean by that? I asked Gran Torino, and he said nothing bad happened between you. What did you do to him?"

"Nothing."

"That doesn't even—"

"I mean nothing, Midoriya!" Ms. Shimura is on her feet, quite literally in the blink of an eye. "I mean I didn't—I couldn't—" She flickers in an out of view. "I couldn't do anything for him—I just—"

And for the first time, Izuku truly sees her.

She's wearing her hero costume—or at least what's left of it. One glove is in shreds, and barely covers her left hand. The other is gone entirely, and the hand beneath it is bloody and broken. Her bodysuit is black, or it's red, or maybe it's scorched and bloodstained so thoroughly that the original color can no longer be seen. The remains of a pale cape hang in soiled tatters from her shoulders, and her hair, torn from its up-do, hangs over her face in snarled clumps.

And her face…

Izuku's stomach twists itself in knots, and he tastes bile at the back of his throat. He can't see her eyes past the tangled hair, and with that much blood encrusting her hair and her face, he wonders for a moment if she even still had eyes when she died.

Shimura Nana, the seventh wielder of One For All, stands before him mangled and broken. Not ghost-pale and spectral, but dark with blood and deep bruising and grisly wounds.

Izuku can't even tell which was the one that killed her.

"Not a pretty sight, is it?" She tries to smile with a broken mouth. Izuku sees the rust-brown streaks where blood spilled past her lips.

Izuku is glad when the tears come. This isn't the way he wants to see Ms. Shimura—strong, bright, vibrant Shimura who throws nicknames around that tease but don't sting, who taught him to throw a proper punch, who loves All-Might enough to stay with him every minute of every day.

"I wish you'd told me," he whispers.

"Me too." Her voice cracks. "But I… I got selfish."

"But why?"

"I told you. You love Toshi. You love him with every inch of your heart, and… and I was so ashamed, Midoriya. I saw how much you love him, and I couldn't bring myself to tell you that I abandoned him."

Izuku blinks the wet blur from his eyes, to find tears cutting clean tracks through the blood on her face. "But—but you didn't mean to," he says. "You didn't leave him on purpose. You died."

"Does it matter? It was the same in the end. I… I took a risk that I knew was more likely to kill me than not, and—and I wasn't thinking of him when I made that choice, Midoriya." She hangs her head. "I was thinking about myself—about how it would affect me, not him. I was so willing to die for the greater good, and be brave and selfless, and I didn't think of what I was leaving behind. I got so caught up in my responsibilities as a hero that I forgot my responsibility to raise him." She lifts her broken arms. "I died a pathetic death, and I left him."

"You—" Izuku starts, but she shakes her head.

"And I didn't tell you about who I used to be," she says. "Because if I did, then you would have asked for my knowledge of One For All, and I… I could never have told you no, once you knew that."

"But what's wrong with that?" Izuku presses, his voice plaintive. "Why wouldn't you want to…?"

"Because it isn't fair!" Her form flickers again, and the shreds of her cape stir as if in a breeze that Izuku can't feel. "He didn't—he didn't get to learn from me and… and I couldn't stop thinking that it wouldn't be fair to him, that you could but not him." She raises her head a fraction, and her hair parts from her dead white eyes. The corners of her mouth are turned upward, but her smile holds no joy. "But it wasn't fair to you, either, was it?"

Izuku watches as her smile fades, and more tears cut through the blood.

"I'm sorry, Midoriya." Her voice shakes with held-back sobs. "I am so, so sorry."

Izuku rocks back on his heels, lost. His face feels stiff with drying tears. "I…" He grinds his teeth, grasping for the right words. "I think I understand. And I'm glad that… that you did help me. When you taught me to fight."

"I got scared," Ms. Shimura tells him softly. "When your school was attacked. I could—I recognized them. Some of the other spirits that came through with them. The whole thing reeked of him—" For a moment the sound of her voice drives itself into his ears like a drill bit. "You could have died. They could have killed you while you were still so young, and…" Finally, she meets his eyes. "And all I could think was that he's lost so much. Too much. More than anyone should have to." She lifts her bloody hand toward him, not quite reaching for him. "I couldn't let him lose you, too."

Fresh tears scald their way down Izuku's face. He can't talk through the thickness in his throat, and even if he could… what can he even say to this?

"I've made so many mistakes," she says. "Dying didn't make me any wiser. And if you can't forgive me, I understand, but… please. Please let me keep helping you. There's so much I need to fix."

Izuku looks at her through his streaming eyes, at the blood and wounds and the brokenness on her face that has nothing to do with bones.

He can't even tell which wound was the one that killed her.

If you want to ask me if I was there, then just say it, Gran Torino had said. …I wasn't. No one was.

She looks like she died slowly, Izuku thinks.

She looks like she died crying.

Nana feels the brush of Midoriya's fingers against hers, warm and alive and everything that she is not. She looks at him and finds his hair hanging over his sunken eyes, hiding them from view. His mouth is a thin, tight line, tense with anger, and after what she's told him, she doesn't blame him.

What must he think of her now?

But then he lifts his chin, and his dark curls part, and his tear-stained eyes burn with anger as he brushes his fingertips against her broken hand. When he speaks, his voice is cold and quiet.

"Who hurt you?"

If she still had a heartbeat, then maybe it would stutter to a halt. He is angry, not with her but for her; angry with someone he has never met, whose name he does not even know.

She wants to laugh. She wants to cry. She wants to pull him into a hug. Heaven help her, she doesn't want to answer.

She wants this kind, selfless boy to stay far away from All For One. She wishes Toshi's successor were anyone else, at the same time as she knows that he could not have made a better choice.

But she has done enough needless secret-keeping. And so, she takes his hand, lets her tears mingle with the blood on her face, and tells him.