Chapter 55

Everyone and everything converges back on Nighteye's office, and it is only then that he allows himself a heartfelt sigh of relief. The girl is safe, his people are safe, and they have one villain in custody: Mirio took on Mr. Compress of the League of Villains, who is already being transported to a secure holding facility. Even Centipeder is all right; he had been under the influence of some quirk or other when he took ill, and the villains must have used the guard switch as an opportunity to slip in.

But it was all for nothing, in the end, because the heroes still hold the most important cards. Nighteye learned years ago to cherish the good days when they come. Sometimes they are rare

for the past six years they've been rare

and even today is not a total victory. Toga Himiko has slipped through their fingers, and they have rock-solid confirmation that Overhaul is in bed with the League. The battle is won, and rest of the war looms over them.

Upon finding Bubble Girl he asks after his interns, and she directs him to the smaller second-floor meeting room. It's an odd place to have put them, he notes vaguely. His sidekick stops him before he goes.

"Handle it… gently, Sir," she advises him meekly. "They fought hard."

He knows that, obviously. Midoriya, for all that he's too clever by half, is stubborn to the point of belligerence, and Mirio is… well, Mirio.

The fact that Bubble Girl feels the need to tell him this means that something went wrong.

He finds them where she said they would be, and takes note of their appearances. Mirio is still in his hero costume; he hasn't changed yet, even though there's been plenty of time since the invasion was thwarted. He's talking quietly to Midoriya, but isn't getting much in response, and when Nighteye looks to his younger intern…

The room is empty and well out of the way of most foot traffic in the office. Bubble Girl took them somewhere they'd be alone. The look on Midoriya Izuku's face gives him a clue as to why.

He sighs lightly. "What happened?"

Mirio confirms his misgivings when he doesn't stand to give his report. He's as respectful and professional as ever, but he stays seated with one hand resting on his junior's shoulders.

It's straightforward. Mirio received the alert when he'd just gotten back from his patrol, and went straight to help. He found Midoriya and Eri cornered by Compress, and engaged the villain while Midoriya took the girl and fled to safety. It's the second time they've used that strategy, and Nighteye wonders if he ought to be concerned, but as they say in America—if it ain't broke, don't fix it.

"Thank you, Mirio," he says. "Well done with that villain. Midoriya?" He tries for a gentler tone than usual, because he hasn't seen Midoriya look like this before, and it's a stark reminder of his recent imprisonment by villains.

Midoriya takes a deep breath, but only manages a strangled noise. Frustration flashes across his face, and Mirio gives his shoulder a light squeeze.

"It's okay if you're not up for that," he says. "I can translate, remember?"

Nighteye's eyes narrow in confusion. Translate?

"It's something he told me earlier, Sir," Mirio says. "If he's under a lot of stress, he'll go temporarily mute. It's okay, though, we both know sign." He lets go of Midoriya's shoulder and gives him an encouraging smile. "Go ahead, I'm ready when you are."

Midoriya looks away. Instead of speaking, he signs.

Again, it's straightforward, in spite of the delivery. Midoriya arrived at the building for his usual visit with Eri after receiving word of the guard switch, and one of the nurses told him that he had already arrived earlier. Realizing that something was wrong, he had hurried to Eri and reached her just in time to find Toga Himiko wearing his face and attempting to lure her away. He retrieved the girl and came very close to subduing the villain before…

"Before?" Nighteye prompts when his interns pause.

Midoriya looks at him briefly, then averts his eyes again.

"Compress showed up," he says, through Mirio. "I didn't know he'd be there."

Which means his 'informants' didn't have time to warn him, Nighteye thinks. "Is there something unusual about Compress?" he asks.

Midoriya doesn't answer right away. He hands rise and fall, wringing in his lap, but there's nothing for Mirio to translate, until finally—

"I can't fight Compress. I can fight anyone else, just not him."

Nighteye frowns again. Like the temporary muteness, this feels like something he ought to have been told earlier. "Why not?"

Another period of hesitation passes, Midoriya's hands shake and curl and uncurl. Nighteye looks to Mirio for an explanation, since it's obvious that he knows what's going on, but his protege's attention is focused on Midoriya.

"Claustrophobic," Midoriya says finally. He stops signing for a moment to dig his nails into the knuckles of his other hand. "They figured it out in Kamino. Compress used his quirk on me when I didn't behave."

Mirio's voice shakes as he translates, and Nighteye shuts his eyes for a moment to wrest down his own anger. There's nowhere for it to go, with All For One medically brain-dead and Compress now safely in custody. It's a cold reminder that Midoriya is not always so unflappable. He may be unsettlingly calm in the face of death, but everyone has fears and vulnerabilities. And Midoriya…

Well. He knew it was a risk, even before he knew about Midoriya's original quirk. Not even the most seasoned heroes can come out of a four-day imprisonment physically and mentally unscathed, and Midoriya's scars are finally showing through. He just wishes he could have been better prepared to deal with them.

"I wish you had told me this earlier," he says at length. "There are steps that could have been taken to lessen the possibility of something like this happening. You know that, don't you?"

Midoriya winces. "I—" he says out loud, with his own voice. "I didn't. Think it'd come up. League wasn't your case. Didn't think I'd run into him." His voice sounds rough, the tone jagged and catching.

"I believe we went over the possibility of the League and the Precepts joining forces many times, Midoriya." Nighteye sighs again, faintly exasperated. "Let this be a lesson, then. You know your own weaknesses. When you deal with villains, you keep them covered or have someone else cover them for you, understand? Now, are there any others I should know about?"

"That's the big one," Midoriya mutters.

"Hm." Nighteye purses his lips. "I'm taking you off active duty until further notice. I'll be having a word with your homeroom teacher about this."

To ask Eraserhead why he hasn't assigned his student some goddamned therapy for heaven's sake, he thinks. There's not much that can be done about the dead floating around him, but at the very least the boy should talk to someone about his imprisonment.

But those are ideas best saved for his future discussion with Eraserhead. "For now," he says, "you're both dismissed."

"What about Eri?" Mirio asks.

"She's being tended to," Nighteye says. "We'll most likely move her to a more secure location, and modify our strategy to account for the League as well as the yakuzas." He stops there, because continuing runs the risk of turning it into a discussion, and their day has been long enough. "But for now, both of you go home—back to campus, rather. I suggest you take this time to rest and reflect."

"Thanks, Sir." Mirio stands up at last, tugging Midoriya along with him.

Nighteye waits for them to leave the room before sinking into a chair to ride out his oncoming headache.

Izuku slips past his classmates, goes up to his room, and shuts the door behind him. His hands wring at his sides, curling and uncurling as soon as he lets go of the doorknob. He paces restlessly on a steady circuit along the whole length of his room, back and forth on a looping path, driven by restless energy. Rei darts alongside him, following him at first, then moving back to wait for him to finish burning nervous energy. Mika watches him from her spot on his pillow, blinking at him slowly.

His phone chimes with a message, interrupting his tangled thoughts and fretful pacing. It's Todoroki, asking if he wants to join the others for a group study session. Izuku's hand wavers over the screen—because he should. He really should. Visiting Eri and going on the odd patrol with Mirio have taken up so much of his time, and he really should take every opportunity he can to catch up, but…

But some things are more important than homework.

He is wasting time, though. Digging furrows in his carpet won't fix anything, won't help Eri, won't stop the villains, won't make up for his failures today—for freezing up, for almost letting Compress and Toga walk away with Eri.

Here he is wallowing in his own anxieties when he could be doing any one of those things instead. And he can do them. He can even do all of them if he puts his mind to it, even with Nighteye's orders to stay off duty (and doesn't that sting). He just can't do them alone.

"Rei?" he stops pacing, and she perks up. "Could you get everyone together? Tensei, Ms. Nana, Narita and Mrs. Kitayama. Hino, if he'll come. I need to talk to them."

Rei nods vigorously and vanishes.

Once she's gone, Izuku remembers the text and declines as politely and apologetically as he can. It's probably not enough to keep Todoroki from worrying, but… oh well. This is important. There's a little girl on the line, and Izuku almost let her go once already.

Tensei is the first to come, then Hino and Ms. Nana. Narita shows up later, but Rei can't find Mrs. Kitayama at all.

But that's okay. Izuku just needs to start with a few.

"Is everything all right?" Tensei asks. "We heard about what happened earlier. Your friends have been worried about you."

"Yeah, kid, that was a clutch save, but…" Ms. Nana's voice trails off. "I mean… Compress."

Izuku winces. "Togata was the one that made the save," he says. "If he hadn't gotten there, Eri would be with the League right now. She'd be back with Overhaul." He swallows against a wave of nausea, and his treacherous mind wonders if Overhaul has a medical file on her, recording all the tests and experiments he's done on her to perfect whatever process he's come up wit—

He shakes himself. He can't afford to think about that. She's still safe, and she'll stay that way if he has anything to say about it.

"I messed up," he says, and realizes he's cutting off Hino mid-sentence without realizing it. "Sorry, what?"

"I said, it's funny that you're saying that when this one says you were the one who called for backup in the first place," Hino says, jerking his thumb at Rei. "So what's got your panties in a twist today?"

"I messed up," Izuku repeats. "When Compress showed up I was basically useless, and they almost—" His voice catches.

"They didn't," Ms. Nana reminds him. "Remember that. They didn't. You did everything right."

"I know," Izuku says. "But it almost wasn't enough, and they'll try again. You all know they will. They'll try and try until they get her back or until they're stopped. I want them stopped."

"Yeah, that tracks." Hino eyes him warily. "So what'd you call us here for?"

"I've been stupid," Izuku says. "The solution's been so obvious this whole time, and I've been sitting around playing by the rules instead of acting on it. Overhaul's a murderer, just like All For One. And maybe he hasn't lived as long, but he's still killed a lot of people." Izuku balls his hands into fists to keep them from shaking. "And that means he's surrounded himself with his own enemies and he doesn't even know it."

He hears Nana's breath hiss through her teeth as she realizes what he's going to say.

"I know it's a lot to ask," he goes on, before any of them can interrupt. "I know you're not alive anymore, and this isn't really your fight, but there are dead people who do consider it their fight, and I can't get to them. But maybe you can."

"Oh," Narita's form shimmers slightly, and Izuku chances a look at his face. The ghost looks eager, and that's a good sign.

"Ms. Nana, Tensei, you were heroes. And all of you are ghosts. All of you can go anywhere, see and hear anything. You could find them. You could find Overhaul. You could find out where he is, what he's planning, what kind of manpower and resources he has. After today, Nighteye's not letting me back out into the field, and I hate it but I guess I can't blame him." He takes a deep breath. "But I can still help. If you're willing help me pull it off. I know it's a lot to ask, but—"

"Hey," Hino cuts him off, and Izuku can't help but wince. "Eyes up here." Izuku raises his chin and braces himself, only for Hino to smirk at him. "You're spinning all this into a big speech but you said it yourself, we're dead. Do you really think we have anything better to do?"

Ms. Nana pushes herself ahead of him, looking exasperated. "What he's trying to say is, of course we'll help you, sprout. Honestly, I'm just glad you've found a way to keep out of harm's way and nose into someone else's business."

"So, you'll do it?" Izuku asks hopefully.

"It feels like forever since I got to do any real legwork." Tensei grins broadly. "I think Tenya will be fine by himself for a little while."

"Finally, I can do something that matters," Narita says. "You've got yourself a deal, Midoriya. We'll find the bastard and bring you all the dirt on him we can."

"If you go to where they're keeping Eri, you'll find her dad with her," Izuku tells him. For the first time since this afternoon, excitement thrums back to life in his veins. "I think he's lucid enough to tell you where to start looking."

"If not, the dead are everywhere," Ms. Nana reminds him. "We'll spread the word, ask around. We'll find him."

"Thank you," Izuku says. One by one the ghosts vanish from his bedroom. Rei hesitates for a moment until Izuku motions her to go on, and eventually she disappears as well. Izuku is left standing in an empty room, alone but for Mika napping on his bedspread.

He goes to his desk and rifles through one of his drawers until he has a fresh, empty notebook in hand.

Ever since Midoriya took him on one of his daily outings, Shouto finds himself worrying less. It's not gone by any means, but it's less. Given how often trouble finds him, it's never going to go away entirely.

It's still frustrating, especially with Uraraka, Asui, Kirishima, and Tokoyami on their own internships. That's only a quarter of the class, but it still feels to Shouto like everyone has something to do but him. The fact that Aizawa is periodically out of class on his own mission doesn't help. Present Mic is fine as a substitute, but it's still a harsh reminder of how behind he is.

Then Midoriya comes back to the dorms, and Shouto knows almost immediately that something's happened. His first clue is that Togata is escorting him, hovering over him worriedly until he sees Midoriya off at the door. His second clue is that Midoriya promptly vanishes upstairs, without a word to anyone.

Togata leaves without saying much. Shouto sends his friend an invitation to study, hoping to find out what happened, but Midoriya brushes it off and that's the end of that.

It's odd, though. Shouto's sitting on the couch when he feels a chill go by, not unlike a draft. It's not a draft, of course; he's felt this often enough around Midoriya to identify it as a dead person he can't see or hear. He goes still, waiting for another feeling, or maybe a sign that something is wrong and Shouto needs to go up and check on Midoriya more directly.

But nothing comes. Midoriya comes down later for dinner, with a calm smile on his face that tries to reach his eyes but can't quite make it.

The thing is, Ochako has an inkling of what's going on. The Dragon Heroine Ryukyu is on the Eight Precepts case, same as Deku's supervisor, so word gets back to them when the League of Villains launch an attack on one of Nighteye's secure buildings.

It doesn't take a genius to know that Deku was involved somehow. When Ochako gets the news, it's all she can do to keep from gnawing her fingernails to stumps.

Is it bad that she only really gets worried when she finds out he's been taken off duty? It can't be a punishment; she knows Deku, knows how determined he is, and it'd be impossible for him to give anything less than his best, especially when he has ghosts on his side.

But something's wrong. It has to be, for Deku to be this cagey afterward. He's not going out every day anymore, but it still feels like she hardly sees him, and when she does, he's staring off into space and muttering to himself.

She wonders who he's talking to.

Tenya has a strong feeling that Tensei isn't around quite as often.

He isn't sure why. He isn't sure it's possible for him to know with absolute certainty whether or not his brother's spirit is with him. It's just a feeling he gets, and while his logical side balks at classifying it with such vague terminology, there's no other way he feels comfortable describing it.

He's been feeling it just a bit less, lately.

And that's unfortunate, because something is wrong with Midoriya, and Tenya misses being able to whisper his fears in his empty dorm room while knowing it's not as empty as it seems. His attempts to broach the subject to his friend have been largely unsuccessful—and that's really not fair, because months ago Midoriya was the one to scold him for not asking for help when he was struggling.

He's not alone in feeling this way. Todoroki is worried, Uraraka is worried, and Togata-senpai seems worried as well, on the occasion that Tenya sees him.

But Midoriya won't say anything. Not to them, at least. He's talking to someone, though; Tenya sees it all the time, now that he knows that more than half of Midoriya's usual muttering isn't just "talking to himself". If he's not doing that, he's scribbling in his notebook.

Tenya has no idea what that's about. Midoriya flips it shut whenever anyone wanders within range.

Izuku is going over his notes again. Over the past few days, his allies have managed to put together a solid picture of what they're dealing with. Eri's father led them straight to the original headquarters where Eri was first kept, which was a solid start—but not quite enough. The Eight Precepts group has been pulling out, removing people, supplies, and assets out to a new location—several new locations. Izuku isn't exactly sure how many. When he is, he'll take it straight to Nighteye.

He feels the presence in his dorm room without seeing or hearing anything strange. A split second after the feeling touches his senses, Mika stirs in his lap and meows. Izuku turns around in his seat and sees a ghost.

Immediately his eyes are drawn to her left shoulder—or the spot where her left shoulder used to be. It's gone now, along with her arm and part of her torso. She carries herself awkwardly, as if the missing pieces have thrown off her balance.

"Hello," Izuku says, tearing his eyes from her wounds.

"Are you Midoriya?" she asks. In spite of her strange balance and missing parts, she carries herself with an air of poise. She looks to be in her late twenties to early thirties.

"That's me."

"Ingenium sent me," she tells him. "After a fashion. He said you were trying to bring down Overhaul."

Izuku pushes his chair out from his desk and turns around to face her fully. "And what if I am?"

She nods. "My name is Chuuza. Chuuza Junko. And… I was a yakuza." Izuku tenses on instinct, but she shakes her head. "I know how that must sound to you. But if you knew more about what Overhaul has done, you'd know that means I'm on your side here."

"I don't understand," Izuku says warily. He's alone right now; all the ghosts are out gathering information. Rei usually checks in pretty frequently, but she isn't here yet. "Overhaul's the leader of the yakuza."

Her face crumples. "He's—he's a disgrace to the name. And even if he wasn't, a lot of Overhaul's victims are his own men. People who fail him, or people who held too tight to the old ways for his liking."

"The… old ways?"

Chuuza shakes her head. "Chisaki Kai was adopted by our boss as an orphaned child, raised in the family like the rest of us. And somewhere down the line he got it into his head that he had to rebuild the yakuzas. And that rebuilding the yakuzas was worth changing everything that we were supposed to be." She hesitates, hand twisting in the remains of her shirt. "A lot of people say the old families are a shadow of what they used to be, and maybe they—maybe we were. Maybe we are. But it means something. There's honor and integrity in staying true to ourselves, instead of becoming—villains." She shuts her eyes. "We don't take 'villain names'. That's not what we do. That's not what we are. But Chisaki poisoned the man who raised him like a son, then stole his position and started calling himself 'Overhaul'. It's a disgrace."

"He killed you for opposing him?" Izuku asks.

Chuuza is silent for a moment. "I bought into it," she says at last. "I was young, and the things he talked about—reclaiming our former glory, emerging from the shadows—it was nice, you know? I didn't realize what it really meant. But dying opened my eyes. I was loyal to him, I served him well, and he killed me for a single misstep. Just one failure. And--and I want him to pay." She stands taller. "So, I'll help you. If it comes to a battle, I know his usual tactics. I can be your eyes, if you'll let me."

Cautiously, Izuku nods. "I'll take any extra set of hands and eyes. Overhaul's going down."

Chuuza's face lights up eagerly. "I look forward to it."

"Well then." Izuku smiles. He's not sure which smile it is, the real one or the frightening one. "Can you tell me if we're missing any hideouts?"

The better part of a week passes before Nighteye can get a hold of Eraserhead. The latter has spent most days since the League's attempted capture of Eri to dive deep into his usual sources, keeping his ear to the ground and monitoring villain movements every hour that he isn't teaching classes or sleeping. While Nighteye is grateful for his efforts, it can't be healthy, and he's been impatient to speak to him.

As it is, he's a few minutes late to the meeting that Nighteye finally manages to schedule. He walks into Nighteye's office muttering an apology that's little more than a platitude, but Nighteye takes it at face value. When heroes, especially underground heroes, have that frayed sort of look about them, it's better to heckle them as little as possible.

For nearly an hour they go over the results of Eraserhead's investigation, and Nighteye is simultaneously thankful for the information and frustrated that there isn't more of it. "It's not as concrete as I'd like," Eraserhead tells him, glaring down at his half-empty water glass as if he blames it for his hardships. "Mostly rumors and hearsay, and many of them contradict each other. But that's what I could dig up."

"I was afraid of that," Nighteye says acidly. "But it's better than nothing." He places the intelligence report in his hand to the side. "If you've nothing more to share, I did want a word with you about Midoriya Izuku."

"Oh, good." Eraserhead sounds almost relieved. "Because I have questions."

Nighteye frowns. "Questions?"

"Well." Eraserhead sits forward, letting his elbows rest on the far side of Nighteye's desk. "In case you were wondering, the reason I was late today is that a few of my students stopped me on the way out the door to bring up his recent behavior. Technically it was nothing I didn't already know, but it's always nice to have more details."

He doesn't like where this is headed. He took the boy off duty to avoid having to worry about him. "What sort of behavior?"

"Withdrawing, avoiding socializing, vanishing into his room and refusing to come out," Eraserhead replies. "There's been an uptick in avoidance behaviors since Compress and Toga made their move. I'm still hearing him speak, though. At least there's that."

"He needs counseling for what happened in Kamino," Nighteye says bluntly. "The events of last week may have exacerbated the lingering trauma. And by 'may have', I mean 'definitely'." He sighs harshly. "He didn't inform me of his severe claustrophobia before he ended up facing Compress."

Eraserhead tenses visibly. "Maybe you should start from the beginning."

He does so. Nighteye isn't one for sugarcoating, and he knows that Eraserhead isn't, either. He delivers it as he would any report, going through the events of that day one by one—the unexpected change in sentry duty, Midoriya's arrival at the secure location, his call for help, and the ensuing battle as best as he can present it when he didn't participate himself. Eraserhead's expression doesn't change as he listens.

"Bubble Girl was good enough to have them wait for me somewhere quiet," Nighteye finishes. "When I got to them, Midoriya was temporarily mute and had Mirio translating as he gave his report in sign language. I've had him off active duty since. Sending him back out into the field after that would do far more harm than good."

Eraserhead purses his lips thoughtfully. "It explains a lot, but not all of it. He's especially close to a select few of his friends, and if it were only trauma then he'd be surrounding himself with them, but those few were the ones to tell me he was isolating himself, so unless it slipped your mind to tell him he did a good job, it doesn't make sense."

"Unless it—" Nighteye pauses. "Pardon?"

The underground hero blinks at him, and his eyes narrow. "Please tell me it didn't slip your mind." Nighteye stares at him, not sure how to respond to that, and Eraserhead sighs harshly and puts down the glass he's been toying with. "It slipped your mind, didn't it? You removed him from active duty and didn't tell him it wasn't a punishment."

Nighteye bristles. "Why on earth would it be a punishment?" he asks. "He did everything right—he alerted me as soon as he realized something was wrong, called for backup, and successfully held off the villains until said backup arrived. There's nothing in that worth punishing."

"Obviously. But forget for a moment that we're both rational minds, and remember that we're talking about your former boss's favorite student." Eraserhead ignores Nighteye's sharpened glare. "I've been trying to train him out of thinking that success doesn't count unless he does everything by himself, but every now and then he backslides on it. My advice to you is—let me guess, you sent him home and haven't spoken with him since except work e-mails, right?" Nighteye nods, feeling uncomfortably judged. "Then talk to him. Take him aside and go over what happened. That kid—well. I won't say he cares too much, because there's no such thing as a hero who cares too much. But he takes on too much by himself. Take him aside and spell it out that he isn't a colossal fuck-up, he did everything he was supposed to do, and if he doesn't give himself a break he'll be no use to anyone. Considering how far you've taken Togata Mirio, I don't think I need to tell you that constructive criticism is useless without positive reinforcement." This conversation is beginning to feel suspiciously like a scolding. "I know things are tense and the world is falling apart, but try to remember that you're teaching a kid."

No ordinary teenager, Nighteye bites back. He took quite the leap, from training someone like Mirio, to training a boy who's constantly two steps ahead because spirits are feeding him lines. Not that Eraserhead would know that.

"Don't give me that look," Eraserhead says flatly, at the same time as he misinterprets whatever look he's seeing. "You had All-Might's ear for five years. If anything, you're uniquely qualified to deal with Midoriya's self-destructive martyr tendencies."

"The boy may admire him, but there's a world of difference between the two," Nighteye says, before he can stop himself. "I'll speak with him, of course, but… it's not that simple."

Eraserhead studies him for a moment, with a look on his face like he's just discovered a bit of evidence that he'd missed. Before Nighteye can worry that he's let something slip, there's a knock at his door.

"Come in," he says, eager for even a momentary distraction. And because he has the worst luck in the world, Midoriya himself steps through, dressed in normal civilian clothes, with nothing but a single notebook tucked under his arm. Upon seeing Eraserhead, he stops short.

"Sorry for interrupting," he says. "I can wait."

"What is it, Midoriya?" Nighteye asks. The sight of him fills him with foreboding, and he's not sure if it's the usual dread or something new.

"I can wait until you're done," Midoriya says. "I just wanted to give you something." 'Something' being the notebook in his hands, no doubt.

"What is that?" Eraserhead asks, frowning again.

"Just notes," Midoriya replies.

Notes on what, Nighteye is almost afraid to ask.

"That's odd," Eraserhead says, raising an eyebrow. "Nighteye just finished telling me that you've been off duty all week."

Midoriya looks at him with bland, innocent eyes. "Oh, well, yes. And I've been staying out of trouble like he said."

"That's not very reassuring, Midoriya," Eraserhead tells him.

"Sorry," Midoriya says, backing toward the door. "You don't have to worry, though. I haven't left campus all week."

"That would be convincing," Eraserhead says dryly. "If I didn't watch you use that exact tone with Shigaraki to stall him at the USJ. You want to try that again?"

Midoriya halts in his tracks.

"Midoriya?" Eraserhead prompts.

The boy takes a few moments to reply. Nighteye doesn't like the look on his face. He looks unsettled, and the only time Nighteye has seen him look anything but calmly knowing or irritated was last week, while he gave his report in sign.

"Could—" Midoriya's voice cracks. "Could you repeat that, sensei?"

Eraserhead frowns. "You used that same tone when you stalled Shigaraki Tomura at the USJ. It was very impressive, but it also showed me quite a few of your tells—"

"Sensei." Slowly, Midoriya shifts his weight from one foot to the other. His face is frozen-blank. "Do you remember what happened before I did that?"

The frown deepens. "I don't see how that's—Midoriya, what's the matter?"

"Humor me," Midoriya says. "What happened before I stalled Shigaraki?" His throat bobs as he swallows.

"You... came up to the plaza while I was holding them off." Eraserhead says slowly, chewing over each word.

"You were there," Midoriya says softly. "So why was I the one stalling him?"

A split second after the question leaves Midoriya's mouth, the glass slips from Eraserhead's hand. The carpeted floor is just enough of a cushion to stop it from breaking on impact.

Nighteye is on his feet in an instant, alarmed. Midoriya stares at his teacher, speechless with shock. Eraserhead looks like his life is flashing before his eyes.

"This doesn't make sense," he says. "The Noumu—but I remember—"

Midoriya's eyes flicker to Nighteye for a split second, looking almost apologetic.

"I stopped Shigaraki from using his quirk on you and Asui," Eraserhead says. He doesn't seem to have noticed the dropped glass. "And then the Noumu bashed my skull into the floor and I woke up in the hospital. But I remember—I saw you. I talked to you, and you talked back."

Midoriya is looking at the floor now, spine rigid. "What did I say?"

"You told me not to worry." Eraserhead's eyes are fixed on him. "That no one had to die. Midoriya—"

"You weren't dead," Midoriya says. He says it abruptly, in a rush of words, as if he's forcing it out before he can lose his nerve. "Not quite. But you were close. Close enough for me to see you."

Eraserhead doesn't answer.

"I haven't—" Midoriya shoots another split-second look at Nighteye. "I haven't been honest with you, about my quirk. But things are different now, and I should've told you before."

His hands curl into fists, and the change that follows is so smooth that Nighteye almost misses it. His stance shifts, the troubled look on his face vanishes, and in an instant he's cold and composed again, the way he always is when his quirk presents itself.

"I see ghosts," Midoriya says. "Spirits of the dead. I've been talking to them a lot lately—that's what the notebook is. After theLeague almost took Eri, I figured they'd try again, so I reached out." His mouth is set in a grim line. "Overhaul's killed a lot of people, and most of them are happy to help. So I've been asking them things. For information. Where his bases are, how many people he has, what they've been doing, stuff like that."

Nighteye sighs harshly. This is his own fault. He hasn't properly considered the implications of Midoriya's quirk—of what he can do with it. "You should have discussed this with me first, Midoriya."

The boy shrugs one shoulder. "I wanted to keep being useful," he says to Nighteye. "I've been stupid not to think of this before. When I say he's killed a lot of people, I mean a lot. Overhaul and his men can't blow their noses without at least one of them seeing it."

"That isn't the point—,"

"I'm gonna need you to back up," Eraserhead says. It's hard to place his tone. It's not quite as flat and emotionless as it usually is, but he's not angry or upset. There's a quiet intensity to it all the same.

"You don't believe me," Midoriya says. "Do you?"

"Midoriya—"

"That usually happens." The boy turns back to face him. "What will it take? Is there anything I can say to you that will make it easier to believe?"

Eraserhead's frown deepens, and Nighteye doesn't blame him. The man has spent the latter part of the meeting defending Midoriya, and now he's forced to place the burden of proof on him for a claim that isn't easily tested.

Midoriya's eyes shift away from Eraserhead's face. For a moment he seems to be waiting for something, before he looks at his teacher again. "I can tell you about the ghosts following you, if you want. You might remember Narita, if you remember the USJ. Narita Yuuto?"

Eraserhead pauses. "I've never met anyone with that name."

"No," Midoriya concedes. "You haven't. You met his sister Kanon." Eraserhead stiffens. "You saved her from the serial killer that murdered her brother. He was following his killer, and he saw you save her, and leave before she had the chance to thank you."

There's a wary look in Eraserhead's eyes now. "That made the news," he says hesitantly. "It would take some digging, but that information is available."

"What about Kitayama Ai?"

Eraserhead breathes in sharply.

"A bridge was destroyed, and her car went underwater," Midoriya continues. "You broke through the windshield to get her out, but her seatbelt got stuck. She says she had to hit you to get you to leave her and get her son out of the backseat instead."

Eraserhead's knuckles are white.

"She squeezed your hand before you let her go," Midoriya says. "She did it to let you know it was all right and she didn't blame you, but she was never sure you understood—"

"Midoriya." Eraserhead's voice cuts through his, and the boy falls silent. "That's—you can stop there. I believe you."

Midoriya falls silent. Waiting.

"This… this makes more sense than it should." Eraserhead's dark eyes flick toward Nighteye's face, as if checking him for a reaction.

"I get that a lot," Midoriya answers.

"The only question this raises," Eraserhead says slowly. "Is about the quirk that I've been watching you use since I first met you."

Midoriya hesitates, but in Nighteye's opinion he doesn't hesitate nearly long enough before he answers, "That's a different quirk. I wasn't born with it. All-Might gave it to me before I started school."

"Midoriya—" Nighteye says sharply.

"Nighteye." Eraserhead gets up from his chair. "Something's just come up, and I'm going to need to cut this meeting short. Remember what I said to you earlier. Sorry to rush out." With that, he leaves.

The moment the door is closed, Nighteye turns sharply to Midoriya, only to find him on the phone.

"Sorry, just a second, I have to warn him," Midoriya says, holding the phone to his ear. Then, "Hey, All-Might, it's me. No, everything's fine. Sort of. I just told Aizawa-sensei about my quirks. Yeah, both of them. I think he's on his way to you. …Yeah, brace yourself. Good luck." He hangs up.

Nighteye opens his mouth to voice his concerns, vehemently.

"I think I should have told him sooner," Midoriya says. "Aizawa-sensei's just as involved in teaching me to be a hero as All-Might is. I think it'll help in the long run if he knows more about what he's dealing with."

"Still," Nighteye says tightly. "One For All has been a closely-guarded secret for generations. Divulging it is not a decision to be made lightly."

"I've been thinking about it for a while," Midoriya says. "And at the end of the day, it's my quirk. It's my decision to make."

"Right," Nighteye says, trying to force the sour note out of his voice. He doesn't know why he never expected Midoriya to be so cavalier about One For All, when he's casual enough with the unsettling implications of his own quirk.

"Besides, it has to be a little less dangerous now than before," Midoriya says. "With All For One being dead and all."

"I would have assumed that myself, if not for your original quirk," Nighteye points out. "Death doesn't mean the same for you as it does for everyone else. How certain are you that All For One won't be dangerous even dead?"

"His brother promised me he wouldn't be a problem."

It takes a moment for the implications of that to sink in.

"You mean you've met…"

"I've met two of my predecessors besides All-Might," Midoriya tells him. "Ms. Nana and the original—he didn't tell me his name. The rest are already gone." He hesitates for a moment. "Can I be honest about something?"

"Why stop now."

"That's one of the reasons I was frustrated, meeting you," Midoriya says bluntly. "I never knew how to say it without it sounding arrogant. But it was frustrating that you thought I didn't deserve One For All, when I've met three people who had it before me and they all thought I was doing fine."

Nighteye's not sure what to say to that. He's not sure what he would have said if Midoriya had told him when they first met.

"Anyway, I just wanted to give you this notebook," Midoriya continues, dropping the object in question on Nighteye's desk. "It has everything I've gathered on Overhaul's operation so far. If it's not enough, I can get more out of the ghosts. They're happy to help, and I don't have to go against your no-active-duty orders to let them."

Which, of course, brings to mind what he and Eraserhead had been discussing before Midoriya's arrival, while also making him wonder if there's any point in bringing that up. "Seeing as how there are ghosts in the room," he says awkwardly—he'll never get used to saying these things out loud. "And two of them were apparently following Eraserhead… I don't suppose you already know what we were talking about, before you arrived?"

"They didn't tell me what you said," Midoriya answers. "Just that you had something to talk to me about."

"Ah." Of course it wouldn't be that easy. Nighteye considers sitting down for this, but decides against it. "Midoriya, do you know why I took you off active duty?" Midoriya blinks at him, and Nighteye shakes his head. "Let me rephrase that. Why do you think I made that decision?"

For a moment, Midoriya looks trapped.

"An honest answer, that's all I ask," Nighteye says, clinging to patience. "Speak freely."

"Because of the attack last week," Midoriya says warily. "I almost let Eri get taken, so you took me off to keep something like that from happening again."

Nighteye sighs, equal parts dismayed and exasperated. "You did everything you were supposed to do in that situation. I've kept you off active duty so that you could rest and collect yourself, not to punish you." To his annoyance, Midoriya looks skeptical. "I thought my intentions were clear last week," he says. "Regardless of my feelings regarding One For All's placement, I am still responsible for you, for the duration of your internship."

Midoriya averts his eyes. "Oh."

An awkward silence stretches between them, and Nighteye finds to his frustration that, even with that confusion cleared up, the air still feels tense. But why wouldn't it? Midoriya is no Mirio, and Nighteye is no All-Might. They haven't seen eye to eye for two consecutive seconds since this internship started.

"Something else on your mind?" Nighteye asks reluctantly.

Midoriya considers him for a moment. "No, Sir," he says at last, turning back toward the door.

"You're sure about that?" Nighteye can feel his patience thinning. "If you have more concerns you'd like to express, you might as well take the time now."

The boy halts. "I don't think there's anything to talk about," he says.

"And yet you've stopped, and you're talking now."

Tension snaps into Midoriya's shoulders, and Nighteye sees him force it out before turning around again. His hands are hidden in his pockets. "You don't even like me," he says. His voice is still calm, lukewarm to the point of being dismissive. "Ever since I started you've made it pretty clear you don't want me here—and that's fine. I'm fine with just making myself useful until my internship is over. At least then we'll both get something out of this."

His petulance has been testing Nighteye's patience all month, but even this is pushing it. "Whether or not we get along is irrelevant to the work we do, Midoriya."

"It comes up every time we talk," Midoriya tells him. "So it kind of feels relevant."

Nighteye presses his mouth closed. "I was under the impression that my opinion of you didn't matter to you," he says. "I have done my best to remain professional, but if you find it difficult to do the same—"

"I'm not talking about One For All and whether you think I'm worthy or not," Midoriya says tightly. "I know that ship has sailed. I'm talking about the look on your face every time I talk about my own quirk." The indistinct shapes of his hands in his pockets shift, as if they're curling into fists. "You think I don't notice how much you hate it?"

"I don't hate your quirk—" Midoriya actually snorts at this, and Nighteye almost loses his patience entirely. "At worst I'm uncomfortable with the attitude it's given you, which, considering your position with All-Might and One For All, can I really be blamed?"

"All-Might has nothing to do with my first quirk, he didn't even know I had it when he gave me One For All—"

"Oh yes, I know about that," Nighteye says, more coldly than intended. "Do you think it's a point in your favor, that you kept something so vital from him when he entrusted his power to you?"

"I get it," Midoriya says tersely. "You're scared about the future you saw and you're scared of him dying. I am too. You don't think I get that?"

Nighteye opens his mouth, then shuts it again.

Midoriya's face changes. His sulky frown blanks out on his face. "You—" He stops short. "What, you don't think I get it? Is that what you're saying?"

If he were a more sensible man, he would end the discussion here and dismiss the boy. But the past weeks of tension and niggling have frayed his restraint to the snapping point. "I'm sure it concerns you," Nighteye says quietly. "In your own way."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Do you really want me to answer that, Midoriya?"

"Did I stutter?"

Nighteye sighs. He's going to regret this, he just knows it. "It's the nature of your quirk, isn't it?" he says wearily. "All-Might may die, but knowing him, his spirit would remain. So what would you really lose, in the end?" He pauses for an answer, and when he doesn't receive one, continues. "It's not something I blame you for. I don't fault your conscience. It's merely the nature of your quirk, and it can't be helped. But it's troubling all the same."

And with that, it's out. It should be a relief, to finally let the weight off his chest, but it only makes him feel cold.

"You…" Midoriya's face shifts through at least a dozen different emotions, before finally settling upon cold shock and fury. "That's why you hate me so much? You think I don't care?"

"Midoriya, I don't—"

"No, I've spent my entire life talking to ghosts and you think I don't care when people die—you think I don't lose anything? You think people die and I'm just fine with it?" His hands are out of his pockets, fists trembling at his sides. "What the hell do you think makes a ghost in the first place?"

Nighteye opens his mouth to reply, to try to diffuse this situation, but no sound will come out. The temperature in the room has dropped to sub-zero, goosebumps prickle over his flesh, and he finds that his voice will not obey him.

The cold composure of before is gone, scrubbed away to leave behind something open and raw and festering. "Do you think people leave ghosts behind when they die at a ripe old age in their sleep? They don't." His voice scrapes and cracks, like broken glass over pavement. "They die young, and they die scared and angry and alone, and most of them don't get to leave pretty corpses behind. That's my life, Sir, it's been my life since I was three years old, and every time I open my eyes and see another walking corpse, I get reminded of how many people don't get saved, every day, and it sucks, and I hate it." His voice breaks. "I hate that they're scared and I hate that they're in pain, and I hate that I'm the only one who can do anything about it, and sometimes I can't do anything about it!"

He breaks off, and the cold pressure on Nighteye's throat is gone, but for the life of him he can't think of anything to say.

It's hard to think of things to say, in the face of a crying child.

"I didn't come to you because I wanted your approval," Midoriya says. "I didn't come because of One For All, or because of All-Might. I came because I see things I wish I could forget, and I know things nobody else should know, and I can't make it go away because they're people and they need my help and no one knows about them but me, because no one else has to see the things I see and—" He stops again, fighting against his own tears. "And I'm here because I thought—I thought maybe you'd understand."

Nighteye feels his heart plummet.

For a moment, the boy tries to steady himself, to pull together some semblance of his former composure. It doesn't work. After the third try, he gives up and draws his sleeve sharply across his eyes, as if furious with himself for losing control. "I did all of this wrong. I'm sorry. Once this internship's over, I won't bother you again."

He turns toward the door.

"Midoriya—" Nighteye starts.

The door shuts behind him.

It's instinct, not foresight, that makes Nighteye duck. Something whistles over his head, narrowly missing him, and he straightens up just in time to see a snow globe shatter against the wall.