Chapter 38

The sun is rising on the third day of the kidnapping, and Shimura Nana is aware of two things.

1. Midoriya Izuku is still alive.

2. That's not making her any less terrified.

To be fair, the terror has a fairly concrete cause, beyond the fact that All For One's got his slimy mitts on Izuku. The thing is, she's been following Rei around for almost as long as Izuku and Bakugou have been gone, and her nerves are fraying at the edges.

She could break off at any time, and start her own search. But her instincts tell her that Rei is more likely to be the first to find Izuku than any other ghost on earth, and because of that Nana can't stand to stray far. She's too afraid of losing track of Rei, and missing her chance to find Izuku. After all, once Rei does find him, Nana can't be sure she'll leave his side again.

And so, she follows the thing that used to be a little girl, at a safe enough distance that the smog cloud of terror doesn't drive her out of her mind.

She needs her mind. Her body's been gone for decades, so it's practically all she has left.

They don't meet many other ghosts. The others avoid Rei, and Nana can't blame them. From time to time she longs to slip away, even if it's just to check on Toshi and come right back, but with how fast and erratic Rei is right now, Nana can't be sure she'll be able to catch up again.

At least Rei doesn't seem to mind. Over the past few days, she's pinballed between moods, from churning rage to swirling despair. The latter moments are when Nana can get close.

Take now, for instance.

They're taking a break. It's anyone's guess how long it will last before Rei gets restless and runs off again, but for now Nana sits and watches the sun rise and cradles the trembling child ghost in her lap. Rei curls up against her stomach and… weeps? It feels like weeping, but Nana can't hear any sobs or see any tears, besides the black ooze that leaks from her eyes.

"It's all right." She's lost count of how many times she's said it. "He'll be all right. He's tough. All For One's a bastard but he's never met our Izuku before." The dead child in her arms holds tight to her and quakes. "We'll find him. We haven't looked everywhere yet—"

Without warning, Rei shoots up in her arms and looks around, black eyes wide. Her lips pull back from her teeth, and her hair swirls as if it's alive.

Nana's on her feet in an instant, still holding her close. "What is it, Rei?" she asks. "Feel something?" The girl's eyes narrow. She isn't turning angry or ferocious, so it's probably nothing bad, but if it's enough to get her attention then it's worth investigating. Nana looks around, wishing that her senses were half as sharp as Rei's.

"It's you."

The voice sounds odd. Distorted, like a voice not used to being used. Nana turns around, and her spine goes ramrod-straight.

Before she met Izuku, she rarely met ghosts that she recognized. Or at least, she rarely bothered to notice other ghosts enough to recognize them. But this face is unmistakable. This is a face that she will always know. It was the first face she saw on the day she died.

"Oh," she says. "You're—oh."

She remembers being just a little starstruck amid all the despair, when she met the first holder of One For All. They only talked a little before she rushed to Toshi's side and never left it.

He's here, when the one thing he told her back then was that he never leaves his brother's side. And that means—

Izuku, she signs. She hadn't been able to do that, the first time they met. You know where he is.

The spirit smiles, tense and worried and so very unhappy. Is that Rei? he asks.

Rei surges forward on her own, hair swirling. Where is my little brother?

Something very close to relief creeps over his face. Come with me. He needs you.

"Wait," Nana says, and signs it as well. "Can you tell me where he is, right now? I'll meet you there, but I have to go back first. If I can find out what the living heroes are planning, then maybe I can bring him some good news."

The spirit nods. He needs good news, right now. Seeing those words fills her with dread. And… I'm sorry. I'm so sorry about Tenko. I wish I could have done something, but I didn't know how.

"Wait-wait-wait." Nana waves her hand to stop him, and stumbles through the sign she knows. "What was that… you said Tenko? Who's Tenko?"

He blinks at her. His face goes blank with confusion, before a trace of horror steals over it. You… don't know?

Nana tries to ignore the icy dread creeping over her. "Don't know what?"

When he calls the boy in the next morning, the results are satisfyingly clear.

Where once he heard shaky politeness interspersed with sparks of defiance, he now hears nothing but quiet, easy meekness. He dispenses with the hospital bed, the calculated show of weakness, so that the boy sees him up and active agin. There is little need now to lower his guard, or to play to a young would-be hero's compassionate instincts. The boy knows a fraction of what he is capable of now.

The boy's head is tilted downward in such a way that it is clear his eyes are fixed to the floor. When he reaches out, the boy doesn't jerk away again, but allows him to lift his chin upward so that their eyes meet. The boy trembles, but accepts his touch without protest.

Behind the mask, he smiles. This is progress.

When he gestures the boy toward a decent chair with no restraints, the surprise is palpable even to his imprecise vision. He can imagine weary eyes regarding the offered seat with disbelief as the boy sits—because of course he sits. He won't think of disobeying now, not with an injured shoulder, cracked ribs, a weak right hand

the other boy is better off, no broken bones but the restraints make him stiff, he's closest to Spinner who's still injured and limping from the invasion—

Focus.

"There's no need to restrain you," he says. "You're no fool, Midoriya Izuku. I think, after last night, you've learned your lesson. Perhaps now, we can move forward toward trust again."

For a moment, the boy is silent. Then—

"Why?"

The shaky little hitch in that voice, the raw vulnerability that he has been pursuing for the past two days, is music to his ears. "Why what, my dear boy?"

"Why would you trust me?" He can see the position of the boy's body, the way he huddles on the chair like he's trying to make himself smaller. "Y-you know—you've always known who I am. And, after yesterday…" The voice breaks as it trails off. He can practically taste the fear.

"My dear, dear boy, I understand why you did what you did," he says, letting just the right amount of regret leak into his own words. "I wish you hadn't, but I understand. You acted because you did not trust me. Because you had no reason at all to trust me. And so, I will forgive you, and be honest with you, and I hope to prove myself to you that way." He pauses. "It was a foolish thing you did, but the thing about foolish actions is that success is what makes them brave instead."

He hears the boy shift in his seat, though it's too small a movement for him to see. "Is—" The boy cuts himself off, as if he's afraid of overstepping—good. He nods his permission, and the boy hesitantly presses forward with his question. "Is she okay?"

"She is unconscious for now," he replies. "An unfortunate side effect of my quirk, but a harmless one. She'll awaken on her own." That much is the truth; she's worth more alive, either for bargaining or research, he hasn't decided. "I will have one of my associates return her safely to the authorities as soon as we are secure—she is no danger to us, since she was not lucid long enough to learn our location. When she awakens, she will be among friends."

"Y-you're really…" The boy's voice wobbles and breaks. "I-I-I don't…" The boy stops short, muffling himself with his arm.

"It's all right," he says, gentle and coaxing. "It's all right. You can finish. I won't be angry. What's troubling you?"

"I don't know," the boy says wretchedly. "How do I know, th-that you aren't… that you won't…?"

"You seem so hesitant to trust," he says, shaking his head. "Are you lied to often, Midoriya?"

"I-I… I mean, it's not…" More uncomfortable fidgeting. "I-it's just, sometimes…"

"You're safe here, Izuku," he says gently. "Tell me what's wrong."

"I-it's not lying, it's just… sometimes, a-at school, my teachers… i-it's just to help us, but I never know… I never know if they're telling the truth, or just trying to—to motivate us, or…" The voice trails off again.

He wants to laugh. It's all so perfect, it's as if these heroes and teachers gift-wrap their children for him. He sighs harshly and shakes his head. "It's as I said," he says. "Lies over people. Kind lies, 'helpful' lies, they're all the same in the end, aren't they? No matter how good their intentions, eventually they wear away at trust. I want no part in it. Miss Shiretoko will go free unharmed, and that is the truth. Harming her brings me no benefit, nor does lying to you about it." Which isn't quite true. He's gotten what he wanted from her, but she's been awfully useful in bending the boy to him. Better to keep her near

in the side room just off the main loading dock, still unconscious, watched over by a Noumu programmed to maim anyone or anything that approaches—the doctor is passing nearby to check on her, check her viability for experimentation just in case he changes his mind, limping on his bad leg, aching with the beginnings of osteoporosis—

Focus.

"Thank you." The boy blurts it out, and his voice shakes again with oncoming tears. "Th-thank you. For not… for not hurting her." For not hurting me, the boy doesn't say, though he can hear the words hovering silently behind the rest.

"I don't want to hurt you," he says. "I want to help you, if I can." The answering sniffle makes him smile fondly behind the mask. A little kindness goes a long way. Leave a man for dead, and he'll pick himself back up and fight another day. Lift a man from the dirt, salve his wounds and offer him gentle words, and he'll forget that you were the one who beat him down in the first place.

The boy is quiet for a while, shifting and fidgeting. He can sense the boy building up his nerve to speak, and he waits patiently.

"Did you mean what you said?" the boy asks softly. "About me? Being… not having a good quirk?" He hears the boy swallow. "Do you think I could've become a hero, without one?"

He smiles again behind the mask. "I cannot say for certain," he says. "It would have been entirely up to you to decide. But… yes. I do believe that. There is so much more to strength than having a powerful quirk."

To be fair, he does believe that. His own power is formidable to the point of being overwhelming, but it only became power on par with demigods in his hands and his hands alone. He likes to think that, had certain places been exchanged, very little would have changed.

His younger brother had always lacked vision.

"All-Might robbed you," he says ruefully. "Imagine how foolish your doubters would have looked, had you conquered your dreams with only your wits and the strength in your own limbs." He pauses. "Your friend Bakugou, for example."

He hears the stuttered breath, the short creak as the boy startles in his chair, and smiles again. A bit of a shot in the dark, but quite a good one. School records say that they were classmates when they were small, and a boy like Bakugou Katsuki is certainly the type. A thug and a bully, as he had said before. He would be very much surprised, if the boy before him doesn't feel a drop of satisfaction deep down to see him restrained

in a chair, battered and watched over by Spinner and Magne and Compress and Shigaraki and Dabi is returning to the room with Toga, they'll be making preparations soon, all his pieces coming together, converging on that room while the doctor runs his experiments and follows orders known only to the two of them—

Focus, damn all!

(His ire turns briefly on the woman for what her quirk is doing to him. So much information all at once is making it more difficult to compartmentalize than it ought to be. If she weren't so useful alive, he'd kill her just for that.)

"I don't need eyes to see that he has done unforgivable things to you," he says, pressing down on intrusive quirk-given knowledge until it's quiet in the back of his head. "And I suspect he's been praised for his brute strength. Hasn't he?"

The boy is silent, which tells him all he needs to know.

"My faithful student is determined to recruit him. He isn't wrong—unbridled rage of that caliber can be a powerful tool. But you? You are worth far more than a tool. You are not so easily controlled."

"N-neither is Bakugou," the boy says, in a burst of courage. Courage, but not defiance. "He's not—he's not stupid. And he can learn, he… he can change for the better."

"No." He shakes his head. "He cannot. Because he is, above all else, proud. To change, one must admit they are wrong. His pride will not allow that. But maybe… maybe he can be guided. By someone calmer. Cleverer." He lets it trail off there, lets the boy draw his own conclusions.

Power over a former tormentor. It's the secret dream of every child who has ever tasted cruelty. All he has to do is dangle the prize tantalizingly close.

"I can't, he wouldn't listen to me," the boy mumbles. "He doesn't—I'm nothing to him."

"And that is precisely why you can."

He hears the boy's breath go short with excitement, sees the pulse of his heart. It's such a shame that he can't see the boy's face light up with eagerness and desperate hope. It was lovely to see in Shimura Tenko's eyes, and he's sure that it is just as gratifying in Midoriya Izuku's. He dearly misses his sight.

It is a shame, too, that he will not be able to see Yagi Toshinori's face when he comes to his student's rescue and finds the boy answering meekly at his living enemy's beck and call.

Perhaps, with a little cajoling, the boy can be compelled to describe it to him. Unlike Yagi, All For One has an excellent imagination.

The game ends—this round of it, at least—and he moves on to other matters. There are a great deal of pieces that need moving by tonight.

Izuku is getting sick of protein bars and gel pouches. But that's the easiest way to feed restrained prisoners, so that's what they get. At this point, after last night's events, he's mainly just glad that he can keep food down at all.

Bakugou has been quiet lately, and Izuku has yet to figure out whether that's a good thing or a bad thing. The villains cycle in and out so that there are at least three of them standing guard at a time. Compress is there most of the time, standing by the door. He doesn't come near Izuku, but he's still positioned in a place that makes escape impossible. One For All hasn't come back since the previous night, which is a shame because Izuku would have loved to ask him how he thought this morning's conversation with All For One went.

"Watch it, here comes the crazy one," a ghost warns. It's not very specfic, since every villain here is some flavor of crazy, but Izuku can agree that if any of them are "the crazy one," it's probably Toga Himiko.

The thought has barely crossed his mind when Toga comes up and sticks a needle in his arm.

Izuku yelps and tries to pull away on instinct, but Toga holds his shoulders still with surprising strength.

"Don't move! This'll be quick!" Her fangs flash in a grin. "Hee! Don't worry, little Izu, I'm not injecting anything. I'm doing the opposite! Just need a little blood, that's all."

Izuku only struggles harder, trying to jerk away or pull his arm off the needle. He has no idea what anyone would want with his blood, but he doubts that it's anything pleasant.

Toga slaps him across the face. He kicks out at her, and in the process of dodging, she yanks the needle out.

Cold fury flashes in her eyes, blazing at him for a split second before her lips pucker into a pout. "Compress!" she calls. "Compress can you please put him in a marble again? He always goes all soft and droopy when you do it, and he makes those cute little noises too."

Izuku goes still. She blinks at him, and her face lights up with delight.

"Never mind!" she chirps, and sticks the needle back into his arm. Izuku flinches, but doesn't try to kick her again.

"Don't be greedy," she scoffs. "You've got plenty of blood and you'll just make more anyway." She pulls the needle and presses a plaster over the holes in his arm. "See? Wasn't so bad, was it?"

Izuku presses his lips together to keep from saying something he'll regret. Toga notices, and grabs his face hard enough that her nails dig into his cheeks. Her free hand moves to his thigh, and she slides between his knees to sit on his lap. Forcing his head back to look at her, she purses her own lips like she's imitating the look on his face.

"Why so gwumpy?" she asks, in the same tone someone would use to talk to a toddler. "Smile! You even got what you wanted last night! See, I wanted to take her blood." Her eyes glint, bright with madness. "I wanted to take all her blood. But Tomura's sensei said I couldn't. Know what that means, little Izu?" She gives his face a squeeze. "That means he likes you even more than me! Most people wouldn't have stopped me from taking what I want." She leans closer, sliding up his lap until her hip is pressed up against his stomach. "He let me take a little bit of it, though. Maybe I can go play with her friends for a little while. Doesn't one of them have a little boy? Muscular was talking about him." She leans in as if sharing a secret, her lips brushing at his ear. "Is he fun to play with? You'd know, right?"

Izuku sits silently and focuses on breathing and wrestling his temper down, down into the dark. He is so tired of being touched.

Something warm and wet trickles from his nose—she'd hit him hard enough to make it bleed again. He feels her tense up, sees her eyes widen at the sight of blood. Her thumb caresses his cheek.

"You're really cute when you do that." She swipes her thumb over his lips, and raises her hand to lick the blood off. "I gotta go now. I'll see you around?"

She leaves with a vial of his blood. Izuku presses his knees together and tries not to throw up.

"She's a shapeshifter," one of her pale, bloody young ghosts whispers. His name's Arai, Izuku knows. "When she drinks that, she'll be able to become you."

Izuku's knuckles turn white from gripping the chair arms.

"That's what she did with me," Arai goes on, once he can see that Izuku's listening. "She slipped into my family—I tried to warn them, but I didn't know how. She didn't stop pretending until she attacked my girlfriend and stabbed my sisters while they slept. I… I think they're alive. I haven't seen them. I'm too scared to go back and look."

Izuku's heart is in his throat. He thinks of his mother—she'll be hard to fool, he hopes, since Toga can't know about the ghosts. He thinks of All-Might and Aizawa-sensei, who don't know—Todoroki and Uraraka and Iida and all his friends. How good an actor is Toga Himiko? How eager to see him safe are they? How many warning signs can she make them overlook?

Before he can work himself up into a proper panic, the lights flicker again. To everyone else in the room, it probably doesn't look like much. But to Izuku's eyes, it heralds an arrival.

Small, thin arms wrap around his neck, and a tiny body crashes into him hard enough to rock him back a little in his seat. Dark hair billows around him, obscuring his vision.

He knows this. He knows what Rei's hugs feel like.

Izuku's eyes water.

"Help's on the way, short stack," a familiar voice calls out from beyond her. Nana's standing nearby, with One For All close behind. "The heroes are mobilizing. They're springing you kids tonight." She grins, though it looks strained. "I'll be going back and forth, checking in from time to time to bring you updates, but for now I can tell you the gist of it."

Rei pulls back. She's trembling a little, and she's looking fuzzy around the edges like she always does when she's especially scared. And she does look scared, from her flickering form to the look on her face.

This is a bad place, she says. It's a bad, bad place. You shouldn't be here.

I know. And I won't be for long, he answers. I can get through this. I just need all the help I can get.

One For All smiles. And you shall have it.

"There's been… a development."

Toshinori jerks his head up to face Tsukauchi. He hasn't shown his face much today. He learned his lesson after the disaster at the USJ, and he's determined to hoard his scant hour of combat until tonight. Tsukauchi is his main line of information in the meantime.

"What kind of development?" he asks.

Tsukauchi sighs. "They've moved. For the past few days, their location hasn't moved from this warehouse in Kamino Ward. Then, early this morning, it did."

"Where to?"

"Still in Yokohama, but further to the west. Seedy neighborhood—the exact location, as best as we can pinpoint it, is the site of an old bar that's been out of business for years, at least officially. Nowadays it's the site of the occasional drug or arms deal, but the heroes in that area have bigger fish to fry, and the city hasn't scraped together the funds to demolish it."

Toshinori shudders to think that his students might have ended up in a place like that. "Are we certain? The warehouse seems like the more likely headquarters. Is it possible that they found the tracker and sent it off to divert us?"

"Absolutely, which is why there's been a change of plans. The operation's being split up. One squad hits the bar, the other hits the warehouse. If we get any confirmation on where the kids are, we'll still be hitting both locations, but the bulk of our forces will go to their rescue, yourself included."

Toshinori nods tersely. His friend knows him well. It's not that he doesn't trust other heroes to the job, but the sooner he sees his students alive and well, the better.

And if they aren't… so much the better that he'd be there.

Tsukauchi's phone chimes, and he checks it. His eyes widen, and Toshinori leans forward for what he knows will be news.

"We just got confirmation," Tsukauchi tells him. "Security camera was destroyed, but it managed to catch this right before." He turns his phone screen so that Toshinori can see.

It's a grainy photograph of an alley behind a dingy-looking bar. About seven figures can be seen, two of them hooded and bound as they are dragged by the others. It takes three to restrain one of them; the picture shows them frozen in the midst of kicking savagely at their captors, thrashing so violently that the hood slips back and reveals messy dark green hair and a round, freckled jaw.

Toshinori's mouth goes dry. It can't be anyone else.

"Guess you'll be taking the bar, then," Tsukauchi mutters. "Try not to do something silly, like jump the gun and head over now. Everything hinges on our diversion."

It's a good thing Toshinori knows this already, because at this point he's past listening.

"Slight change in plans," Momo says without preamble. "I'm not sure how much this will change, but we're headed for a different location in Yokohama." She holds up the tracking receiver in her hand. Ochako squints at it, but she can't make heads or tails of the readout on the screen. "According to this, they're now miles away from where they were originally, just outside of Kamino."

"Where?" Iida asks, sounding like he dreads the answer.

"I looked up the neighborhood." Momo's nose wrinkles with distaste. "It's not a nice neighborhood, that's for sure. Mostly poorly-kept apartments, dingy strip malls, and run-down bars."

"This'll be trickier, then," Ochako says. "At least the warehouse was big, so we could count on having a good vantage point while… while staying out of the way."

"Wait wait wait, are we sure about this?" Kirishima asks. "I mean, the tracker's on the Noumu, not on Midoriya or Bakugou."

Todoroki backs him up. "And the League has resources, we know that much. They could have multiple bases at their disposal; just because one of their number moved doesn't mean the rest of them did."

"It's still worth a look, at least," Yaoyorozu points out. "If we want to be extra-thorough, then we'll have to visit both." From there, they continue to adjust the plan.

It's not all that surprising to Ochako that so much of the planning happens between Momo and Todoroki. Momo's as good as Deku is when it comes to strategy, and after she and Todoroki teamed up for the final exams, they're pretty comfortable with putting their heads together like that. The rest participate as well, to make suggestions and veto dangerous ideas, but the lion's share of brainstorming happens between the first two.

On the one hand, Ochako trusts them both wholeheartedly. On the other, it doesn't leave the rest of them with a whole lot to do except think. Not about the task ahead of them—the one they're carrying out tonight—but about things that she doubts the others have considered.

"Has anyone visited their parents?" Iida asks it, while they're gathered in Todoroki's living room. Todoroki has a trash can pulled up, filled with ashes—they've been sketching out plans on paper, with Todoroki burning the ones that don't make the cut.

"I'm sure the teachers have been in contact with them," Ochako replies, a little uncertainly.

"Aizawa-sensei visited Bakugou's parents and Midoriya's mother," Momo assures him.

"I would like to visit her," Iida says. There's no uncertainty about it—he says it firmly, as if he's been mulling it over for a while. "Midoriya's mother, I mean. To be honest, I've been wanting to since we got back, but things have been… turbulent. And since last night, it's only felt more urgent. I can't explain why, I just feel like I must."

"Can't or won't?" Momo asks, and somehow manages to not sound accusing.

Iida sighs harshly. "Midoriya—helped me. I can't go into detail, but I owe him a very great deal, and—while I still don't approve of this, I would be lying if I said I didn't regret being unable to help him that night. I can't imagine what his mother must be going through, but I feel as if I owe it to Midoriya to at least check on her."

Instinctively, Ochako looks to Todoroki. He's watching Iida coolly. "Is that necessary, when we'll be doing more to help him tonight?"

"Just in case," Iida says, and no more than that.

"Well, I think it'd be good to see if she's doing okay," Ochako says. "Especially if… I mean, I've never heard Deku mention his dad. So… she's alone right now, isn't she?"

Quiet falls over the group.

"How about if you two go?" Kirishima says at length. "I mean, you two and Todoroki are the closest to him, and Todoroki's still pretty deep in planning, so…"

Ochako exchanges a glance with Iida. "I'm okay with it. I feel like I'm not doing much here, anyway." She turns back to the others. "We can be back here within the next couple hours. That should give us time to get ready."

"We won't be leaving until tonight," Todoroki says. "If something comes up, we'll let you know."

Todoroki lives in the same city as Deku, so the train ride is not a long one. But it's still quiet, and they're lucky enough to avoid attention.

"Uraraka," Iida says softly, once they're sure no one is close enough to overhear. The nearest person is a college student with headphones on, music turned up so high that Ochako can hear the lyrics. "Why are you doing this?"

"I wasn't doing anything useful, back there," she answers. "And Deku's my best friend, so it doesn't feel right not to make sure his mom's okay if she's going through this alone—at least Bakugou's parents have each other, but—"

"No, I mean—why are you doing any of this?" Iida sounds wearily resigned. "Kirishima I understand. Todoroki I wanted to think better of, but I suppose I'm not surprised in his case either. I can even understand how they talked Yaoyorozu into it." She can feel him looking at her, but she doesn't look back. "But you? You've always been so sensible. Why do you want so badly to do this?"

Ochako can feel her insides twisting up and tangling within her, like a hundred different awful feelings thrown into a blender. For a moment she considers not answering, but it passes quickly. "I mean, first off it's because he's my friend. He's one of the best friends I've ever had and I wish I'd done more to help him back in the forest. And second…" She worries at her lip with her teeth. "How about you, Iida? I know this has to do with what happened in Hosu."

Beside her, Iida goes still.

"I mean, I've always known there was something," she goes on. "It wasn't hard to figure out. I knew there had to be some reason Deku and Todoroki were suddenly all buddy-buddy when we all got back, and when I asked Deku, he said he wasn't allowed to talk about it. Then we all heard that something happened with Stain, and the three of you were being so secretive about it, and… with you and Todoroki fighting last night, it's all sort of piling up." She balls her hands into fists in her lap. "It's so stupid, but… I felt sort of left out? Like you had this big thing, this big secret, just between the three of you, and I couldn't share it, not even just by hearing about it, even though we were already friends and where the heck did Todoroki come from, you know?" She shakes her head vigorously, trying to clear those ugly feelings away. "You took care of it, you didn't need help getting through it, so I decided I'd just have to be there for the next one." She kicks her feet. "And then I was, and I couldn't help enough."

It's a stupid reason, a selfish reason, just like her reason for always teaming up with Deku, or her reason for becoming a hero at all. She waits for Iida to scold her for it.

"I'm sorry, Uraraka," he says instead. "I didn't realize you felt that way."

"It's not your fault," she tells him. "It's not your fault I feel that way, and it's not your fault I didn't say anything."

The train arrives. They walk the rest of the way nearly in silence.

When Midoriya Inko opens the door, she takes one look at them before her eyes soften. It makes Ochako feel just a little less awkward about showing up, though Iida's still a little stiff as he introduces them both.

Mrs. Midoriya's smile is not a happy one, but she offers it up anyway. "Why don't you two come in?" she says, and opens the door wider for them. "I just made tea." Ochako exchanges a glance with Iida, and they reach an agreement with eye contact alone.

Ochako isn't sure what she expected of Deku's home, or if she even expected anything at all. All in all, it's pretty normal-looking. Glancing around, she catches glimpses of photographs of her friend from past years, all big eyes and fluffy hair and skinny limbs. There's soft music playing in the background, just enough to fill the silence, and the air smells strangely sweet. There's something familiar about it, but Ochako can't identify it off the top of her head.

Iida, of course, meekly follows their host and offers to help with the tea, and Ochako finds herself fascinated with details. The living room is tidy, and the kitchen is no different. Everything is neat and spotless—even the counters and appliances look recently wiped down. She sees the exhaustion on Mrs. Midoriya's face, and her heart sinks deep, deep down.

There are other things to look at, though. The fridge, for example. The fridge is covered in artwork, and Ochako finds herself smiling in spite of everything. They're all clumsy child's drawings, but she can still make them out. All-Might. Deku holding hands with a little girl, probably a childhood friend. Deku and his mom, plus the girl. A woman floating several feet off the ground. What looks like All-Might standing next to a smaller version of himself—oh no wait, that's Deku again. Ochako wonders what tiny Deku would think if he knew what his life would be like.

She looks to the next drawing, and goes still. She doesn't know who the man in this drawing is supposed to be—at least she thinks it's a man. It's hard to tell, when it looks as if tiny Deku attacked his artwork with a red crayon before he finished.

"Uraraka?" Iida's voice brings her back to the present, and she mutters an apology and follows him out.

Mrs. Midoriya offers them chairs and tea, and seats herself before them on the sofa. The wall behind them has a mirror leaned up against it, tilted and dusty-looking. It's the only object remotely out of place in an otherwise tidy room. Mika comes in to say hello, and makes herself comfortable in Iida's lap.

"Are you two doing all right?" Mrs. Midoriya asks.

"As well as can be expected," Iida answers.

"To be honest, we sort of came to ask you that," Uraraka says. "I mean, after… we thought it'd be good if someone checked on you."

Mrs. Midoriya smiles at her. "You're very kind." She pauses, hands wrapped around her cup. For a moment her eyes seem to change focus, as if she's looking past them. Something flickers in her expression, and she looks down at her tea. "I can see why Izuku speaks so well of you."

Normally Ochako would flush with pleasure at praise. But now the thought of Deku only makes her remember their plans for tonight.

They make small talk. Mrs. Midoriya is easy to talk to. She sticks to easy topics, shallow conversation that doesn't dig too deep into the raw hurts left over from the attack. Her mood is tired, but still kindly, and slowly Ochako relaxes.

"I have hope," Mrs. Midoriya tells them. "It's not so much faith in any specific hero, just… plain hope."

"It's worth having," Iida replies. "I… I probably shouldn't tell you this, but the heroes have a good lead. And with the Symbol of Peace, their chances of success are quite high."

"I know," Mrs. Midoriya says, sighing a little.

Ochako struggles to think of something to fill the silence. Mrs. Midoriya is so worried and frightened, and there must be something she can say. Heroes are supposed to protect people's hearts, not just their lives, and what kind of hero would Ochako be if she couldn't comfort her own friend's mother?

"I know their chances are good," Mrs. Midoriya says, still looking down into her tea. "You both know it, too. So is it really necessary for you to go after them?"

The warm, comforting atmosphere turns gray and cold.

"I—" Iida splutters a little. "I'm sorry?"

Mrs. Midoriya sighs. She puts down her teacup.

"I'm not surprised," she says. "Izuku's just the same, after all. And I'm… I'm happy he's found people willing to put themselves at risk, for his sake. But I know my son. I know that if anything happens to you, he'll only blame himself." She looks Ochako in the eye, and the disappointment and worry on her face has Ochako shrinking back, reminded sharply of her own parents.

"Mrs. Midoriya, I assure you." Iida recovers himself quicker than Ochako does. "We are not taking any risks. Any unnecessary risks. We aren't—we aren't going to—" He's trying to lie, Ochako realizes distantly. He's trying to lie to her, and he's failing.

"How—" Ochako's voice catches. "Why do you think we're going to do something?"

For a moment Mrs. Midoriya's eyes slide past her again. Ochako is about to follow her gaze when Mrs. Midoriya puts her cup down with a little more force than necessary, distracting her. "I don't think," she says. "I know. It's not too much of a stretch. He talks about you, you know. He loves you both dearly, and—and I wish I didn't, but I know that wherever he is now, one of the few comforts he has is that neither of you are there with him." She says the last part in a rush, ignoring even when her voice breaks. It takes only a moment for her to compose herself again. "He'll come home safe. I believe that. I have to believe that. And the only thing keeping me from picking up a phone and letting your teacher handle this, is that it would only distract them when they should be focusing on rescuing my son, and Katsuki. So I am asking you now—please, for his sake, don't put yourselves in danger." Her hands tighten into fists. "He's going to come home. Don't risk not being there when he does."

Ochako's head is bowed, eyes burning with unshed tears and shame. She opens her mouth—to apologize, to reassure, she barely even knows—and the soft music in the background stops.

It doesn't just fall silent, or wind down. It cuts off in a burst of static, painfully loud in the quiet apartment, before the sound goes dead. Ochako jumps, and puts her tea down to keep from spilling.

"I'm sorry," Mrs. Midoriya says. "Something must be wrong with—"

The door to the kitchen bangs against the wall as if someone just threw it open. Ochako jumps again, glancing back to see, but there's no one there.

In Iida's lap, Mika raises her head to stare at the opposite wall.

"Just—just a draft," Mrs. Midoriya tells her, but her voice is tense with worry. "It happens sometimes in this building—anyway, that's all I wanted to say, so—"

She's cut off yet again by a rattling in the window, as if the building is caught in an earthquake. Ochako looks around, confused by the noises, confused by the way the room feels colder, and her eyes fall upon the mirror against the wall.

She stares.

There are words traced in the thick coating of dust on the silvered glass. They hadn't been there when she first looked.

They're going after your son tonight.

The door slams against the wall again, and a picture frame wobbles and drops to the floor. Iida is on his feet, looking from the door to the window, though he hasn't seen the mirror like she has. "Mrs. Midoriya, are you sure everything's all right?" He looks tense and suspicious, and Ochako's a little more preoccupied with the writing on the mirror, but this is plenty alarming, too.

"It's—it's fine, don't worry." Mrs. Midoriya stands as well, and she looks alarmed too, but there's a sort of frantic guilt to it, like she expected this, or at the very least she isn't surprised.

Iida must notice it too, because he shakes his head. "Drafts don't do this, especially not with all the doors and windows closed. If there's something—" He stops talking then, cut off with a strangled gasp. Ochako turns to him, alarmed, and it hits her a split second later.

Fear. Icy-sharp and all-consuming fear. It's like there's a button buried deep in her brain and someone's slammed their fist on it with all their might, pumping pure terror through her veins until she can't move, can't fight it, can't anything, and some part of her knows this must be the work of a quirk, it has to be, and it must mean Mrs. Midoriya's under attack or being threatened—

"Rei." Mrs. Midoriya's voice shakes. She practically chokes it out. "Rei."

Ochako feels cold.

Before her, Deku's mother draws herself up to her tallest height—which isn't much—and cries out over the sound of the window rattling and the banging door. "I know that's you, Rei!" Her voice rings out, harsh and scolding. "Stop that—young lady, you stop that right this instant!"

The icy hold on Ochako's chest loosens.

"You should be ashamed of yourself!" Mrs. Midoriya's voice isn't shaking now, even though the rest of her is. "What would Izuku say if he saw you behaving like this? Leave them alone!"

All at once, the fear leaves her. Dimly Ochako can hear Iida breathing harshly, Mika hissing at his feet. Her heart pounds wildly, hard enough to feel it in her ears.

And then Mrs. Midoriya is there, coaxing them to sit down again, running for more tea and pushing a freshly refilled cup into Ochako's hands, helping her hold it so the hot liquid won't slop over the sides.

"Drink, drink," she urges, letting go only when Ochako's hands aren't trembling anymore. She fusses over Iida as well. "Slow sips, now. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. You didn't—I'm sure she didn't mean it. It's all right, I promise it's all right, she's just scared, she's just—

"What was that?" Iida rasps. "Mrs. Midoriya—"

With a mental heave, Ochako shakes off the leftover fear. Mrs. Midoriya stands over them, wide-eyed and worried, and Ochako can only stare back in helpless confusion. She sips at her tea, and it only helps a little.

What just happened?

Who's Rei? What—?

What?

"Oh no." Their host's voice is soft with dread. "Oh no, I wish you hadn't—I wish you hadn't done that."

"Done what?" It comes out more plaintive than Ochako would like. "What did we do? I don't understand—"

Mrs. Midoriya looks back at her, then at Iida. Her eyes are wide with alarm. The room still feels awful.

Finally, she answers. "Not you." She lowers her hands to her sides, looks at them and then past them—at the mirror, Ochako realizes—and back again. "I wasn't… I wasn't talking to you."

Ochako looks over her shoulder, following her gaze to the mirror.

She's calmed down, is written beneath the first message. Send them home before something else happens.

"Who's doing that?" Ochako blurts out. "Who's—who's writing that?" Iida's looking too, now.

For a few seconds, Mrs. Midoriya stands motionless before them and doesn't answer.

Then—

"Rei," she says. "Did you find him?"

The door bangs, and they all flinch. Mrs. Midoriya sighs.

"I can't stop them," she says. "You know that, whoever you are. It's a little late for that."

Iida opens his mouth, but she holds up her hand and moves past them. A plastic bottle floats from the side table and into her hand—talcum powder, Ochako realizes. That was what she smelled, walking in. It was talcum powder.

With a few squeezes, Mrs. Midoriya re-dusts the surface of the mirror until the messages are obscured again.

"Come over here, please?" she says.

Ochako hesitates. She exchanges a look with Iida, and feels a little better that he's just as out of his depth as she is.

When they finally get up to approach, Mrs. Midoriya turns to them. She looks… not angry. Upset. Tense. But not angry with them.

"I should stop you," she says. She isn't shouting or scolding, but her soft voice still twists Ochako up with guilt. "I want to stop you. But stopping you means telling the heroes, and I—I can't risk that, not when they're going to rescue them tonight. They can't afford the distraction. That is the only reason, do you understand?"

"How—how do you know that?" Ochako asks. The heroes wouldn't have told her, would they? They're keeping things secret. Yaoyorozu only heard because she helped.

"And if I can't stop you, then the best I can do is—is make sure you don't go in blind." Her fingers grip the edge of the mirror. "Ohhh, I shouldn't do this. I shouldn't do this."

"Do what?" Iida asks.

"Betray my son like this." She seems to steel herself. "Rei, what did you find?"

"Who's—" Iida starts, but the mirror rattles, and a finger starts writing again.

KAMINO

THEY TOOK HIM HE'S IN KAMINO DON'T FOLLOW THE FAKE HE'S IN KAMINO

Ochako nearly stops breathing. The words continue forming, only now they aren't just traced in powder but scratched into the finish.

THEY TOOK HIM THEY HURT HIM BRING HIM BACK GIVE HIM BACK

HE'S MINE NOT THEIRS MINE MINE BRING HIM BACK

"He's still alive?" Mrs. Midoriya's voice trembles again. "You saw him?"

LITTLE BROTHER IS ALIVE HE'S STRONG HE'S CLEVER

HE SAYS DON'T WORRY HE'S NOT ALONE

They're running out of room, so she dusts the mirror again.

"And he's in Kamino?" Ochako blurts out, though she has no idea who or what she's talking to. "In the warehouse?"

I DON'T LIKE IT GET HIM OUT

"He's… not alone?" Iida says hesitantly. "What does that mean? The villains, or…?"

MURDERERS GIVE HIM LOTS OF FRIENDS

THEY HELP HIM WE ALL HELP HIM

Underneath the words, a smiley face is slowly scratched into the glass.

"Tell him I'm waiting," Mrs. Midoriya whispers. "Tell him I know he'll come home no matter what."

HE WILL

LITTLE BROTHER SAYS I LOVE YOU AND I MISS YOU AND I'M SORRY

Something knocks on the mirror. Mrs. Midoriya dusts it again. More words appear, neater and less haphazard than before.

Don't worry about the little bean. He's a smart kid and he's got help.

More words come, multiple hands writing all at once.

He'll come home alive.

He's a good boy.

You kids watch yourselves. He'll be mad at you if you die, and you don't want that.

I'LL HELP HIM THEY WON'T HURT HIM ANYMORE I PROMISE

Be careful. Both of you please be careful. Take care of the others.

She powders the mirror one last time, and half a dozen hearts take form on the glass.

Iida is staring not at the mirror, but at her. Ochako follows suit, gaping openly at Deku's mother as she watches invisible people draw hearts in the powder.

"Is… is this your quirk?" Iida asks softly. "Talking to… to…"

Mrs. Midoriya looks to him in surprise. Then her watery eyes soften a little, with something like relief. "Yes," she says. "It is."

"No it isn't," Ochako blurts out.

The others look at her.

"The drawings," she says. "On the fridge. Deku made those, didn't he? He… he drew…"

Mrs. Midoriya doesn't answer with a yes or a no.

"Ask him, when you get the chance, and maybe he'll tell you," she says. Not if, but when. Make sure you're all alive to have that chance, she doesn't say. But she doesn't need to.

They walk out of the apartment as if stepping back into the real world from a dream—or a nightmare.

"Uraraka," Iida says faintly. "What just happened?"

"I think we just talked to some ghosts," Uraraka answers.

"Ghosts aren't real," Iida tells her.

She isn't sure either of them believe that anymore.

"We have to go to Kamino," she says. "The first location. I mean, whatever it was that just happened—that's important. It's the biggest hint we have. Whatever—whoever was talking, they knew about the fake-out."

"What are we supposed to tell the others?" Iida asks her, a little helplessly. "That—that invisible ghosts told us?"

"We can tell them to check Kamino first," she says. "And then, when we get there, we make sure we don't leave."

Iida sighs harshly. "This—none of this makes sense."

"Nothing's made sense since they took Deku and Bakugou," she says sadly. "But—the words 'he's at Kamino' do, you know? I think it's the closest we're gonna get to a sure thing."

"This is a terrible idea," Iida tells her.

"Of course it is," she says. "But if there's one thing Deku's taught me, it's that just 'cause an idea's terrible doesn't mean it won't work."

By late evening, all five of them are on the move.

It's a quarter to ten on the evening of the third day, and Shouta is angry.

He has been angry since the moment the League of Villains showed their faces in that forest—with himself, with the League itself, with every single bump and hurdle that has gotten between him and ensuring the safety of his students. His blood boils with concentrated rage, like caustic acid running through his veins. He's half convinced that if someone cut him, he would bleed poison.

That anger is, ironically, the only reason why he's here: standing in front of the hated press, paying lip service to newshounds who will never understand what he feels. Harsh criticism and loaded questions lash at them from the reporters, and Shouta tucks his tongue behind his teeth and lets Nedzu do the smooth talking. The principal was a natural pick for this job—smoothing ruffled feathers, planting half-truths into his answers to make it sound as if the investigation is floundering. The villains will be monitoring the media, if they're smart, and this should keep them from realizing that the heroes are on to them, and that they make their move tonight.

It should be a small price to pay for this diversion: judgmental eyes and flashing cameras and his own boiling temper.

They aren't angry with the school—not really. They just want a good story. At the end of the day the media, like most heroes, depend on a devoted audience. And it just so happens that angry viewers make for attentive viewers.

"You speak of the students' safety," one of the reporters calls out. "But, Mr. Eraserhead, you were alleged to have urged your students to fight these villains, correct? Can you explain your intentions? How is encouraging further violence conducive to their safety?"

This is what he was dreading—having to actually talk. Bowing and apologizing is simple and easily scripted. This takes effort and self control. "The full situation was unclear at the time," he answers. "I urged my students not to seek out danger, but I authorized them to fight if necessary. I made a judgment call to avoid the worst possible outcome."

"The worst possible outcome?" the reporter echoes skeptically. "Twenty-six students injured, and two captured. If that isn't the worst possible outcome, then what is?"

"That would be forty students murdered because the law forbade them from defending themselves," Shouta replies. Beside him, Sekijirou kicks him lightly under the table in warning.

"We have determined that most of the injuries were due to the gas attack, caused by one of the villain's quirks," Nedzu speaks up. "It is thanks to the efforts of two students, Ms. Kendou and Mr. Tetsutetsu, that the villain was subdued and later captured, and that no further injuries were sustained."

"Of course, the safety of the students themselves is not the only concern," the reporter presses. "But also the fact that they may lack the training and restraint expected of licensed heroes. We've received reports that one of the assailants in custody was—well, brutalized, to say the least. To the point of being permanently maimed and blinded. You say they were only to fight as much as necessary—to escape, presumably—and yet one of your students brutalized an attacker, potentially breaking several laws against excessive force."

Shouta fights to keep his voice calm when all he wants to do is scream obscenities into the microphone. "The villain in question was also the man responsible for killing the Water Horse duo two years ago," he says. "Their young son is currently in the care of the hero Mandalay, and was present during the attack. According to his testimony, the villain known as Muscular targeted him, and the student intervened to prevent the murder of a child." He pauses. "Is there a question?"

"More of a concern," the reporter says, looking pointedly at Shouta. "The student responsible is alleged to be Midoriya Izuku, one of the missing students. And the other is Bakugou Katsuki, who displayed wild, violent behavior throughout the Sports Festival, up to and including the awards ceremony. Both of these students have displayed violent behavior, and Bakugou Katsuki especially exhibits signs of mental instability. What if these abductions were intended to exploit this? What if these villains see these students as a recruitment opportunity?" The reporter's eyes narrow. "On what basis do they have a future at U.A., especially after one of their classmates was expelled recently for comparatively minor transgressions?"

Shouta very nearly stops breathing. A short film plays behind his eyes, of the reporter caught in his capture weapon and slowly lowered into a tank of ravenous leeches. He dispels it with a blink and tries not to bloody his palms with his fingernails.

"Thirty-five," he says tersely. The reporter looks confused. "Thirty-five separate complaints of misconduct, made by the female students in the heroics department—about the expelled student that you're referring to. There are only thirteen female students in the heroics department. He displayed defiance when confronted about this behavior, by faculty and fellow students alike, including when that behavior resulted in the injury of civilians—that incident was what led to his expulsion. Both Midoriya and Bakugou, 'comparatively', have displayed either a willingness or an outright zeal to learn and improve themselves. They are at this school because more than anything else, they want to become heroes. And they have a nonzero chance of doing so."

He pauses, brows knitted together as he wrestles to keep his temper under control. "There's a certain attitude that I've noticed recently. It came to a particular prominence after the Hero Killer Stain was brought down, and it's the most poisonous mindset that I have ever come across.

"Simply put, it's this mistaken idea that people are incapable of learning. Of changing."

He pauses. Sekijirou's finally stopped kicking him under the table.

"The path of a hero is a difficult one," Shouta continues. "It's physically and mentally demanding, and it invites attention from the public, both positive and negative. And in giving that attention, many forget that the students aiming for that goal are children. The Hero Killer tried to murder a fifteen-year-old boy out of the belief that he was in some way irreparably broken. A teenager. Anyone who has worked with teenagers is aware that they do nothing but change. Kids that age are constantly in flux—people are constantly in flux. And yet so many come to the conclusion that these kids are set in stone, and what they are today is what they always will be.

"The students in my class, including Bakugou Katsuki and Midoriya Izuku, are not heroes today. They cannot be heroes today. That's why they're students. They have a desire to learn, and we, as their teachers, have the ability of guide them because they have that desire." He takes a deep breath. He's spoken more words to the media in the past five minutes than he has in his entire career prior. "And because of that desire, I can say with every confidence that, if the League of Villains thinks either of them can be exploited, then they are sorely mistaken.

"As for whether or not Midoriya's actions against the villain Muscular were justified?" Shouta fixes the reporter with a glare and pours every drop of contempt into it that he can. "The villain is still alive. He was never in any danger of dying. He was about to beat a nine-year-old boy to death for fun. You tell me."

Things are starting to kick off. It's getting late, well onto ten o'clock, when the villains gather in the room one last time.

They're setting their plan into motion, One For All tells him. My brother will stay here. Most of the rest will be moving on to the other location as part of the decoy.

A heavy hand falls onto his shoulder. Izuku twitches, but the one touching him is Twice. Izuku glances over his shoulder, mystified, just as the villain steps back. A figure takes form between them, gradually gaining mass and opacity until Izuku is staring at a copy of himself. The copy stares back, equally bewildered.

"Um," Izuku says intelligently, before Compress captures the doppelganger in a marble. Izuku flinches back.

"Need that, real quick," Twice tells him. "We just need one, though. To make doubly sure—doubly sure. Hey! I made a joke." He turns to glare at Bakugou. "Can't make one of him. He'd only bite me if I try." Bakugou wordlessly snarls at him. "See? See?"

"Twice," Dabi calls over. "Come on."

"It's time," Shigaraki says, and turns to grin at the prisoners. "We'll be back, soon. Just have to take care of a few things. Don't worry, though. You'll still have company. And if anything happens, she'll press the panic button and Kurogiri'll just warp some of us right back. Got it, Toga?"

"Goooot it!" Toga leans in from behind Izuku, slipping her arms over his shoulders to lock around his neck. Izuku can't tell whether it's supposed to be a hug or a chokehold. He can feel her nuzzling into his hair, and tries not to squirm. "Have fun, Tomura! Try and bring me back some blood, okay?"

"Just hold the fort." Shigaraki glares at her, eyes sliding toward Izuku, and steps closer to Kurogiri.

Kurogiri opens a warp gate, and most of the villains vanish.

Izuku takes a deep breath and tries to take stock of things, as best he can.

"They're gone." It's the woman who tried to help him free Ragdoll—she introduced herself as Dr. Hamada. "Except, considering that Kurogiri and All For One both have warping abilities, that doesn't mean much, so watch yourself."

He's starting to trust you, One For All tells him. Or at least he trusts his ability to manipulate you. It's one reason why you're restrained so little.

Izuku glances down. It's true; his hands are cuffed to the arms of the chair, and there's a restraining strap around his middle, but that's about it. They've freed him of his leg restraints. If he wanted to get out, it wouldn't be hard.

Of course, then there's the panic button that Toga's currently tossing from one hand to the other. And All For One has Ragdoll's quirk, so even if they could escape without tripping any alarms, he could find them in an instant.

Further thoughts are cut off when Toga seats herself on his lap with a cheerful little hum. She's playing with a knife. "Sorry about the restraints," she chirps, poking him lightly on the nose with her fingertip. "Just a formality, that's what Tomura says." She smiles, looking sidelong at him, and her voice drops lower. "I can't wait to see you out of them."

Revulsion twists his stomach into a churning cauldron of sick, and he swallows the taste of bile. Helplessly, he looks to Dr. Hamada and Arai and One For All, and finds the latter waving for his attention. When Izuku meets his eyes, One For All points to Bakugou. Watch out, he says. Watch out for what?

Bakugou's watching him.

It's—it's not quite a glare. Well, it is a glare, or it would be a glare on any other face. But on Bakugou, it's almost blank. He's watching him, waiting, face fixed with—

suspicion.

Izuku blinks as the realization hits him. He looks at Toga, and at his restraints, and the empty room around them.

Hold the fort, Shigaraki had said. He'd looked at both Toga and Izuku.

He keeps disappearing. Vanishing to talk to their leader, and coming back unharmed. His restraints are a formality. Toga's cozying up to him. Izuku's letting Toga cozy up to him.

Oh, fuck.

He wonders if the other villains realize what they're doing, if even Shigaraki realizes it. He wouldn't put it past All For One to know exactly what he was doing and it would look like to someone like Bakugou.

Divide and conquer, One For All says grimly. My brother likes that tactic. He wins fights by getting his enemies to turn on each other.

All For One's been sowing distrust this whole time, and he's been too preoccupied with mind games and ghosts to notice what was going on with Bakugou. All For One has been getting Bakugou to be suspicious of him, to see him as a traitor and an enemy. What could possibly be better for proving his own point than that?

That's just what he needs—heroes bursting in, and Bakugou yelling to them that he's switched sides. That's all he needs—this is supposed to be the night they're rescued, so what the hell else can go wrong?

One For All grips his shoulder, making him look up again. I think your friend's back, he says.

Rei appears in a whirl of dark hair, and it's the closest that Izuku has come to feeling hope in the past hour. She still looks frightened and uncomfortable here, even as she rushes to his side.

Help is coming, she tells him. Heroes are here.

They're close. So very, very close. All he has to do is wait for help—maybe find a way to get the panic button away from Toga, if only to buy them a few minutes, even just a few seconds—

There's something else, she adds. Friends are here too.

...What?

Who? He tries to ask, but something rattles in the walls—faulty piping, maybe—and Rei startles like a rabbit. Her image fizzes and spurts in and out of view. Black ooze pours from her eye sockets like tears. Her fingers twist in her hair, and she cowers and curls up into a little ball before vanishing.

Izuku grinds his teeth.

Someone else is here. Friends. The only friends Rei would talk about are his friends—what friends, then? Who's here? Uraraka? Todoroki? Iida?

That could mean—

If there's any chance at all that they're here, then that could mean

All For One could find them.

He feels the fear coming, the towering ever-present wave, poised to crash down upon him and drown him in an ocean of terror. Pressure burns and throbs behind his eyes.

I have to stop this. I can't sit here. I have to act.

One For All's hand passes before his eyes. His other hand touches Izuku's shoulder.

I can keep an eye on my brother, he says. If he makes a move, I'll tell you. Don't do anything stupid.

Ha. Fat chance of that.

Stay with him, he says. Don't come to tell me yourself. Send someone else. Don't leave him alone.

One For All smiles at him, and it's almost comforting before he vanishes.

Toga is still leaning on him heavily, chatting about something he hasn't been listening to. He still doesn't listen. He's too busy knitting together the pieces of a desperate plan.

If there was ever a time to start figuring out how to bust out, it would be now. That creepy knife chick is distracted with fawning over Deku, and Deku looks like his soul just ejected from his body.

Which, well. Deku has never stopped pissing Katsuki off, even before he started playing nicey-nice with villains, but Katsuki can almost sympathize with that. Almost. It's not like he isn't grateful that it's not his lap she's sitting in. Maybe this'll teach Deku not to be so fucking pleasant with the bastard he's supposed to be fighting.

The problem is that his hands are restrained in such a way that it's impossible to twist them around to blow up the straps without bending them like coat hangers. And even if he could, the chick has a panic button and she's too far away for him to knock it out of her hands. If she presses that button then it'll bring the whole shitty squad of them back in, and the whole point of escaping now is that the bastards are actually gone for once.

And it's not like he can count on Deku. Even now, he's starting to talk back. And not talk back like talk shit—he's just answering her, like they're normal people out for coffee instead of a crazy knife-swinging villain and a smarmy little shit who's supposed to be in hero training.

It's making him sick.

So, he'll wait. There's only so long he can wait, but he doesn't have a choice. He has to wait, and watch that panic button, and hope she's crazy enough to give him an opening somewhere.

"So! What do you like to talk about?" Toga bounces up off of Deku's lap and starts wandering around him, playing with the knife in her hands. "You've been awfully quiet. And I like that! You're really sweet! Buuuut it's getting kind of boring." She tests the knife tip against her finger.

Deku blinks like he's waking up. "Uh… guess it depends? I talk about different stuff with different people. Mostly hobbies, I guess." He pauses. "What do you like to talk about?"

"Oooh, I love hobbies!" Toga bounces on the balls of her feet again. "And I like talking about stuff I've done, and people I've met, and people I've been… but I never get to talk about that! Even here it's kind of awkward, because Dabi's a grump and Twice is nice but he's so weird, and Spinner likes talking about Stain but he doesn't talk about Stain the way I like to talk about Stain…"

"Must be lonely," Deku says. "Have you been making friends, at least?"

Her face lights up, and she plants her hands on the arms of his chair. "Sure have! Tomura's my friend, and Twice is my friend, and so are Magne and Spinner and Compress. Kurogiri is kind of too old, though. And Mustard was so cute and he was even my age, so I was hoping he'd be my friend, but he's gone now." She pouts. "Oh well."

"These things happen," Deku says.

Katsuki wishes, not for the first time, that he could use his quirk through his eyes. He's watching Deku's face, hating that look of stupid sympathy on it, as if what this crazy bitch is spewing is actually worth listening to.

"Say… Toga." As Katsuki watches, something strange flickers across Deku's face. "Are we friends yet?" He pauses, while the girl's eyes widen. "Can—can I call you Himiko? Is that okay?"

The second he says that, she looks like a little kid in a candy store, eyes wide and shiny like she can hardly believe it. Either that, or she looks like she's about to swoon. It's fucking sickening.

She takes hold of his chin, rubs her thumb against his mouth. He's still got blood on his face from when she smacked him before. "You're gonna go out with me," she says. "You're going to be mine."

Deku shrinks back and looks away. "I'm… I'm not sure you'd want that. Not if you knew…"

"Knew what?" she asks eagerly.

Deku looks up at her shyly, and—

Something's wrong.

Katsuki isn't sure why the thought springs to his mind, but it does. There's something very, very wrong with how his shyness looks. Katsuki knows Deku, he's known the little shit since they were tiny. Deku's always been shy, and Katsuki knows that that's not what it's supposed to look like.

"I can't tell you," Deku says. "It's a secret."

"I love secrets!" Toga blurts out, rocking back on her heels in excitement. "Don't worry! I won't tell anyone! I promise!"

"Oh, I know you won't," Deku answers, eyes wide. "I trust you, Himiko-chan." (She squeaks at this.) "It's just…" Deku glances toward Katsuki. "He can't keep a secret. He's awful at it."

Toga looks over at him, and Bakugou glares daggers in Deku's direction.

"Yeah, you're right," Toga says, nodding. "He's got a pretty big mouth."

"Fuck you," Katsuki blurts out, and Toga giggles.

"Yeah, he does," Deku agrees. "So I don't want him to hear it."

"You could whisper it!" Toga offers. "Real soft in my ear, so he can't hear it. I want to hear it, you've got to tell me, Izu!"

"Well…" Deku hesitates for a few seconds. "Okay. But you've gotta lean in close, because I'm only gonna say it once, and I'm gonna whisper it quieter than I've ever whispered anything."

Toga nods vigorously. "Okay, got it," she says, and leans in close.

Deku moves.

It's almost too fast for Katsuki to catch. Deku strikes like a snake, and when he slams back into his chair, his head is tilted sideways, and his teeth are clamped down on the bridge of Toga's nose.

Katsuki sees her try to pull back. She can't.

A strangled cry gurgles up out of Toga's mouth. Her hand flashes out, clutching her knife, and Deku catches her wrist. Toga thrashes, trying to pull her face free, but Deku doesn't let go. If anything, he only bites down harder.

Toga tries to wail, but it's hard to make noise effectively with Deku's teeth clamped around her nose. He grips her wrist, twists and twists until he wrests the knife away. His hand flashes out, and the knife clatters to the ground at Katsuki's feet.

Deku stares at him from the other side of Toga's struggling form, wide-eyed with a silent plea for help.

"Fuck," Katsuki hisses, and tips his chair to the ground. He lands hard on his side, nearly knocking the wind out of himself, but from there he can shove himself around, chair and all, until he can grab the knife handle in his own teeth. Angling it down, he attacks the straps with the blade.

(Credit where credit is due—Toga Himiko takes good care of her knives.)

The strap parts, fiber by fiber, until he's stabbed through enough of it to snap the rest. He turns his sweaty palms toward the chair itself, reducing it to scrap so that the rest of the straps fall away.

It's not until he's free that Deku finally lets go. Toga reels back, face bloody and contorted with rage. She whirls around at Katsuki as he charges, yanking a second knife from her pocket. At the last moment she lashes out, scoring the blade across his collarbone—

His palm detonates close enough to her face to bloody it further and send her flying back into the wall. She hits it like a broken doll and slides down to the floor, unconscious.

For a moment, all Katsuki can hear is Deku's harsh, heaving breaths. He slumps back in the chair, breathing heavily with bloodstains around his mouth and tears gathering in his eyes. The cut across Katsuki's collarbone is a flesh wound; it stings, but it isn't dangerous.

"The button," Katsuki remembers with a jolt.

Deku sits forward again and holds up the device. "Got it. Picked it off her while she was talking."

Katsuki freezes.

The panic button is in Deku's hand. He hasn't pressed it—at least, not as far as Katsuki can tell—but that could change. It all depends on… on…

"How do I know?"

"Bakugou, I know what it looks like, but there isn't time for this—" He doesn't sound surprised or confused, or even guilty. Mostly he just sounds tired.

"How do I know you're not with them?" Bakugou clenches his fists. "You've been cozying up to them since we got here. You keep disappearing to talk to their goddamn leader, you're getting special treatment, they trust you enough to leave us with just one guard, you kept vanishing back at the camp, how the hell do I know they haven't talked you around?" He pauses. "I know how much you hate me."

Deku's eyes flash with anger. With the blood around his mouth, it's not a pretty sight. "I don't hate you. And even if I did, I wouldn't let someone like you make me turn traitor. You couldn't stop me from wanting to be a hero when we were five years old, K-Kacchan. What makes you think you're any better at it now?"

"Give me one good reason why I should trust you—"

"Oh, now I'm the one who has to prove myself to you?" Deku snaps.

"I'm not the one who's been toadying up to these bastards from the start, so why should I believe—"

"Because I hate them."

The words cut through Katsuki's, as caustic as acid. Deku stares him down from the chair, and he's angry, angrier than Katsuki has ever seen him before.

"They hurt me. They hurt Ragdoll—they took her quirk and I couldn't stop them." The anger quickly turns to tears. "I hate them and that made it easy to lie, because if I lied then they'd trust me and if they trusted me then I could hurt them, too. And it's not the only reason, and I hate that it's a reason and I wish it wasn't one, but it's there, and maybe it's the only reason you'll understand." His teary eyes blaze with fury. "Now help me."

And for a moment all Katsuki can say to that is, "Fine." He steps closer, knife in hand. "How the fuck did you get your hand free?"

"Broke it a little." Deku holds up his hand, showing his swelling wrist. "Slipped it out when when I bit her so I could stop her from stabbing me. It hurts, but I'll live."

"Fuck," Katsuki mutters. "All right, shove over so I can get your other one—

Deku elbows him in the chest. "Don't."

"Fuck off, Deku, stop being a baby and I'll get you free."

"No." Deku pushes him back. "Just—listen to me, okay? All For One, their leader, steals quirks. He stole Ragdoll's quirk, and he has another that lets him teleport people back to him. If we run, he'll catch us."

"Then we'll teleport straight to him and kick his ass, whatever, just—"

"Fucking listen to me, Bakugou!" Deku glares at him. "We can't kick his ass. We can't do a damn thing against him, or we're both dead. But if you leave me here, I can at least buy you time."

"What does that matter, if he can just tell where I am anyway?" Katsuki snaps. "Deku—"

"Because." Deku clenches his teeth in an angry smile. "They trust me, remember? Or at least he thinks he can use me. When you run, don't go straight for the exits. I'll tell you where they are, and you have to stall, got it? Instead of trying to escape entirely, find a way outside so you can be visible. Get caught on a security camera or something. I can keep them talking. I can keep them from going straight after you."

It's a shitty plan. It's exactly the kind of plan Katsuki hates—the kind that means running away instead of winning.

It's the only kind of plan that has any hope of doing something useful.

"Fuck. Fuck, fine, goddamn it."

"One more thing," Deku says. "I need you to use your quirk on me."

Katsuki's mind goes blank. "What."

"Nowhere vital. My shoulder. My left shoulder—it's already weak from fighting back at the camp, and I'd like to have at least one good arm—"

"No," Katsuki snarls. "No, I'm not gonna fucking—are you insane, Deku?"

Anger flashes in his eyes again. "Oh great, Kacchan. Now you don't want to use your quirk on me, the one time I actually need you to."

"Deku," Katsuki growls.

"Great timing," Deku goes on. "What're you afraid of? It's not like the teachers are around to see—as if that ever stopped you before—"

"I don't fucking want to!"

Deku blinks at him. For the first time tonight, he does look surprised.

"I appreciate it," he says. "But tough. Now hurry up and do it, and get out."

He gets it. He can see where Deku's going with this. But…

"Fine." Katsuki raises his hand. It's shaking, even as he places it on Deku's shoulder. He's always had steady hands with his quirk before, unless he overused it. "Fine. Just… fuckin' hold still, I guess."

Izuku tries not to whimper with pain as he waits for Bakugou's footsteps to fade into the distance. He wants to wait, to give Bakugou some time to put some distance between himself and this room, or to find the heroes infiltrating the building, something. But if he waits too long, it'll look suspicious.

"He's right, you know," Arai remarks. "You're insane." He glances at Toga's limp, unconscious body. "I mean, not that I'm complaining."

"I know," Izuku answers. "In my defense? This is probably the stupidest thing I've ever done."

He presses the panic button.