mha lucifer fic 1-2

He only understood after getting his quirk.

"Come down Mr. Sniffles! Come down! Please?"

The cat on the tree clung to the branches. Feline claws dug into wood at acute angles to keep it stable. The girl at the bottom was young. Older than him. Her middle-school uniform was neatly ironed. She appeared mundane, lacking exotic mutant type features that would give away her quirk.

"D-d-do you need some help?"

No, stupid – heroes don't ask – they just do! What – what if she says no? What if she laughs? She's going to laugh! Maybe I shouldn't have –

She was prettier than he thought. She was closer to his face than he realized. His heartbeat was racing. It was fast. Too fast. Close. Too close. His cheeks were burning. He wanted to step back. He couldn't step back.

What – what would Kacchan do?

"Um – you're… a bit… um… too close… and – and –"

"Can you get Mr. Sniffles down?" She pointed to the tree. "It's pretty high up, and you're pretty small."

I'm still growing. I'm not short – I – I just haven't hit my growth spurt yet.

"That's cute."

His face burned. I said that out loud. Oh my god why did I say that out loud? She was smiling at him. And she was close to him.

"I – I can help. My… my quirk. It can help."

"It can?" her eyes widened. "What can it do? Is it telekinesis? Oh = oh, you're going to grow vines from your hair?"

"U-um, no – it… well…" There wasn't any easy way to explain it. "I… can do this."

Two steps, and he was up the tree in a flip. The world blurred into a rush of air as he spun, latching his fingers lightly unto the stomach of the cat. The feline purred. Its claws raked away at the tree. He spun his body, rolled with the cat safely secure in his arms held to his chest. He landed, bleeding off the momentum with a tiny cartwheel, planting his feet unto the ground.

Mr. Sniffles was smaller, now that it was in his arms. A kitten. A cute one. He couldn't resist himself from rubbing the feline's stomach. Soft purrs escaped Mr. Sniffles. The kitten stretched out in his arms, like a toddler trying to sleep.

"How –"

The girl was staring at him. Her eyes were wide. Her smile was even wider. He found himself taking a step back on instinct. "U-um – I – er – got Mr. Sniffles down –"

"That was amazing!"

"Oh, no – it – it wasn't – I just…"

"You jumped up that huge tree without even having a running start! And that flip – oh, don't tell me, your quirk – it lets you do parkour moves?!"

"Um… kind of."

"That's soooo cool!"

He was smiling, but his smile was awkward. He hoped she didn't notice how awkward his smile was. "Um… can you… take Mr. Sniffles?"

"Hm? Oh! Right, right!"

The dark-furred bundle left his hands. He watched the way she cared for it. His eyes trailed her hands, the position in which she kept the cat. Almost immediately, he wanted to clear his throat and say something. It's not my place – I mean – I shouldn't… I – should I? What if I she thinks –

Mr. Sniffles jerked awake. The kitten swiped its claws at the girl's hands. He was moving before her hand left it. His hands launched out, catching the kitten mid fall.

"Ouch!" she said. "Damn it Mr. Sniffles!"

"Y-you… um… you shouldn't be holding him… like that."

She glared at him, holding her scratched hand. "What do you mean?"

"Um… you're… holding him by his neck. It… it probably hurts."

He extended his hands. "Y-you should hold him more gently. Like… like a baby."

"Hey what's your deal kid? You think just because you got Mr. Sniffles down from a tree, you think you're better than me at treating him?"

"No! No – I – I was just –" I – I just wanted to help –

The girl snickered, before laughing. "Relax. I'm joking."

"Oh." He said. A joke. She's just joking. You can take a joke.

"So, Kid Parkour, you said I should hold Mr. Sniffles like this –"

There was some trial and error to the process. Enough so that she was holding the cat comfortably. Enough so that Mr. Sniffles did not protest at her hands. A decent method. But she could be holding him more securely. If she were to space out her fingers and hug him closer to her chest – oh, no, that wouldn't work because her chest is um… ah – but if she were to properly make use of her biceps and brachialis to support Mr. Sniffle's weight, she could comfortably carry him and at the same time ease the tension on his spine. But if she didn't want to hold him, she could securely place him over her shoulder and prevent him from slipping by using her backpack as a makeshift cat-belt and keeping him at an angle that'll allow for three-dimensional movement without unnecessary jostling –

"Well, thanks for the help Kid Parkour."

"Izuku." He said without thinking. "Midoriya Izuku."

"Tsuchikawa." She responded in turn. "Tsuchikawa Emiko."

Tsuchikawa? Midoriya's brow furrowed. Isn't that – no, no, that's a leap. Just because she has the same last name and has a cat doesn't mean anything. But what if it did? No, it doesn't mean anything still. Even if they're related, I can't randomly ask her to get me an autograph – but if I did, would that be creepy? What if it upsets her? I don't know if I'd like it if everyone badgered me just because I have a relative who's a pro-hero – but wait – what if she's not, and she's just someone who has the same name? Won't that be worse? If she –

A finger moved in his direction. His body moved as well. His hand was up, holding something before his mind caught up.

"Wow," said Emiko. "Good reflexes."

He was holding her hand. Oh my god I'm holding a girl's hand. He let go of her as if he'd been burned from the impact. "Um – ah – sorry –"

"You're in your head a lot, aren't you?"

He tried to smile. I'm smiling awkwardly. Why am I smiling so awkwardly? "I… guess."

"I guess I'll be seeing you around, Midoriya-chan." She said, turning around. "Thanks for helping me with Mr. Sniffles! Bye!"

She waved, once, and she was gone. Izuku rose his right hand, muttering softly, "Bye…"

He wished he could do that. Do what Tsuchikawa did. Just leave a conversation without making it look awkward or wondering if the person has finished talking or caring if the person felt you were just trying to get away –

Had she been trying to get away from him? Was it because he was too quiet? Was that creepy? He knew that some people found it creepy. He didn't want to be creepy. He hoped he wasn't creepy. He hoped he hadn't ruined the interaction by being too quiet. He wanted to talk, too. Be outspoken, too. Maybe even compliment her? She was pretty. He'd have liked to tell her, that he thought she was pretty. That he liked how cute she looked in that school uniform.

Wait – school uniform?

Midoriya glanced at his own clothing. The uniform of Aldera Junior High was clean and crisp. Ironed to a point in which the creases could be mistaken for blades. His left hand went up, the time on the digital clock glaring at him.

"Nonononono!"

Midoriya Izuku's feet began moving as soon as his mind caught up with the information registered on his watch.

"I'm late!"

The streets were a blur as he raced through. Dodging and ducking and weaving past obstacles and people like he was on an obstacle course of doom. His body moved first, and his mind followed second. Shortcut – need a shortcut –

His feet skidded to a stop in an alley. He ran, jumping off a dumpster, spinning into the air, and running up the side of a wall until he flipped off it and landed on the rooftops. Faster. Sprinting across obstacles on the rooftop was easier than he anticipated. Sliding underneath a line meant for clothes, dodging and weaving through the occasional heaters and miscellaneous vents, the biggest challenge came in leaping from one rooftop to another.

Now!

The distance between gaps was covered with effective timing. Landing required him to roll to bleed off momentum, but each roll was used to increase his speed rather than reduce it, furthering himself forward, faster, and faster –

This was something he understood only after getting his own quirk. The tiny ways in which having a quirk made life amazing. The little things in which contributed to a larger experience. The wind rushing in his face. The adrenaline pumping in his system. The excitement and thrills as he dodged obstacle after obstacle, climbed building after building, hopped rooftop after rooftop, ran on walls, flipped, cartwheeled, turned and tumbled –

A Quirk was not some esoteric, odd, foreign part of a person which was only meant to be used when given the green light. It was a part of him. It was him. It was like a limb he always had but never fully utilized. An arm he'd been missing. A realm of experience he'd been locked from. In every conceivable way, having a quirk changed his life, and to not have a quirk – it was like being crippled.

"There!"

The school was within his sights. He leapt from the nearest building unto the street, careful to avoid pedestrians, and getting a few surprised shouts from his seemingly sudden appearance. With each breath he took, he timed himself, calculated the fastest route and headed for it simultaneously. He ran through the gates, past the gates, ran through the main doors, and past the main doors. He ran, pushing behind his exertion and only skidding to a stop once the familiar doorway was in sight.

Exhausted, he tried to catch his breath before opening the door.

"Midoriya-kun, you're late."

His teacher's voice came from behind him. Stern. Focused. Midoriya felt as if his heart was going to burst from the pressure.

"I – I didn't mean to! But – but there was this girl, and – and Mr. Sniffles – her – her cat – kitten – there was a tree and – and –"

"You were helping a girl get her cat out of a tree?"

His teacher's voice was rich with amusement. He doesn't believe me.

"Y-yes – I –"

"No need to explain at all, Midoriya-kun. I understand you must be itching to use your recently discovered quirk to do some heroics."

"I – well – no, it's not like I –"

"Shhh." His teacher said, waving his hand. "There's nothing to explain at all. These things happen. And I can turn a blind eye to one of this school's finest young students. After all, you and Bakugo-kun are the ones planning on applying to U.A. aren't you? Yes, yes – there's no reason to mar your perfect attendance records."

The teacher didn't listen to him. No, it's not that he's not listening… he's… he's… just letting me off?

"Now, come on, let's enter. Class should have started already."

Izuku pushed open the door, forcing the usual smile on his cheeks as he entered the classroom. Immediately he was greeted by friendly smiles, cheers and waves. "Hey, Izuku! There you are!"

"Izuku, buddy, we were wondering what kept you."

"Izuku-kun, I've kept a seat right beside me. It's warm."

"Alright, quiet down! Class is in session!" The teacher barked. "Izuku, go on and take your seat."

He felt numb. Numb, even as he moved to the back of the class. No one attempted to put out their legs to trip him. No one snickered and whispered 'quirkless' or 'useless' as he passed. That girl who used to stare at him like an insect was looking at him with disturbing, predatory eyes. The two boys who used to toss spitballs in his ear were treating him like royalty.

He took his seat, quietly, feeling his heart pounding in his chest. It pounded so much that it felt like it was going to burst. Pounded so much that he was worried others could actually hear it.

"Oi." A voice came from his side. "You're fucking late Deku. What took you?"

Blonde-haired and perpetually scowling, Katsuki Bakugo was the only one acting… normal.

"I don't understand."

Bakugo snorted. "You make it sound like that's supposed to be something new."

He bit down on his lip. "Everyone is… acting different."

"You mean how everyone is suddenly kissing your ass?" Bakugo scoffed.

They weren't the words he would use, but they were not wrong. He nodded his head, slowly.

"Congratu-fucking-lations," said Kacchan, twirling his index finger in the air. "Now that everyone knows you've got a quirk and it's one that fucking blows theirs out of the water, you've graduated from mob trash to side character."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"It means you're fucking better than them, and they know it." Kacchan pointed to two boys. Deku knew them. They were Bakugo's cronies. The ones who followed him everywhere. "They'll stick beside you like white on fucking rice, because the morons believe that if they stand in front of a light bulb long enough, they'll start to glow."

Was that true? People would want to become his friend now, simply because he'd finally unlocked his quirk? They would give him special privileges, simply because his quirk was good? They'd turn a blind eye to the minor slip-ups he made, because of a power he was born with? An ability he himself had no choice in choosing?

"That's… that's wrong."

"What, are you fucking complaining?" Bakugo said. "Like you're any fucking different."

His chest burned. "I'm not like that."

"Then why the fuck are you even talking to me?"

"W-what?"

"I'm not an idiot, Deku. You were trash without a quirk. I let you know this every day. In your fucking face, every day. Yet you'd follow me with this stupid look on your face no matter what. That stupid look – you never stopped having it for one fucking day." Bakugou snorted. "At least, with the hangers-on I knew they were getting something out of hanging out around me cause they made it obvious. With you, it's like you felt chasing after my fucking shadow could make you more than trash."

"How does that make you any fucking different from them?"

He wanted to deny it. He wanted to tell Kacchan that they were friends. That they had been friends since before Kacchan got his quirk. He couldn't. He couldn't, because Kacchan was right about one thing. He had been chasing after Bakugo. He'd been chasing after him, desperately. He looked up to him. He admired his confidence. His ability. His sure-fire cockiness and self-assured ways of doing things. His ability to not care about the opinions and thoughts of others and say whatever he felt was on his mind.

Was it a friendship, then, if all one person did, was admire and look up to the other? If one person, merely put the other on a pedestal, and placed them as a goal? Friendships were supposed to be give and take, supposed to be equal and reciprocal, but if all he did, was look up to Kacchan, if all he did, was get his inspiration and confidence from Kacchan without ever giving back anything in return… could it even be called a friendship?

Were they, actually ever friends?

Have I ever done anything for Kacchan… as a friend?

Something gnawed at his stomach. Gnawed at him. They were friends, weren't they? He should have, at least once, done something to help Kacchan. Something that Kacchan couldn't have done without him. Some sort of assistance, that he provided, or maybe, maybe a gift? Or – or –

Kacchan's pride won't let him accept help. Or advice. It won't let him ask for it either. The only way he'd do that is if he saw me as an equal. But he won't, because I've been the one chasing after him for so long. If I beat him in a fight, it'll hurt his pride even worse. If I hold back, he'll know I did and things'll go sour. So… how?

"Kacchan."

"What is it Deku?"

"After school… can you," No, don't ask. He tried again. "I… want you… to show me, some stuff, you think we can do… with our quirks."

"No."

Izuku deflated. "Oh."

Don't just… take no! What – what would Kacchan do?

"I'm… I'm not taking no for an answer."

"What was that bastard?" Bakugo's face lit up, tiny sparks emitting from his hand.

Don't be afraid. Don't be – you – you don't have anything to fear from Kacchan. "You – you heard me." Izuku forced out. "We – we're going to do stuff. Have fun. Like… friends. Good friends."

"I said I'm not interested Deku."

"I said I won't take no for an answer." I didn't stutter! I didn't stutter that time!

"Do you have a death wish?"

"N-no," damn it, he stuttered. "You have a death wish."

"That doesn't even make any fucking sense."

"You don't make any f-fucking sense."

Oh my god I just swore. He could feel the mortification from dropping the f-word so casually. He could feel some sort of… thrill from dropping the f-word so casually. He observed Kacchan's momentarily stunned face, keyed in to his body language, his facial expressions, recalled his extensive vocabulary, and his subtle peculiarities.

Then, he fed everything into his quirk.

"You heard me," he said, his voice oscillating in tone until it reached the deepness and octave that matched Katsuki Bakugo phoneme for phoneme. "We're going to fucking have a blast with our quirks, and you're going to come along, sit down, and have fun, or my name isn't Izuku fucking Midoriya."

Too little, too late, he realized that he had been slightly louder than he intended to be. The gaze of the entire classroom was in their direction, in his direction. Jaws were slack, mouths were opened, eyes were wide, and a piece of chalk dropped from the teacher's hand.

Midoriya Izuku, when faced with such an awkward situation, would have shrunk back in on himself, praying for a random blanket to appear and hide his mortification. However, at that exact moment, Midoriya Izuku wasn't the one present. Rather, it was Midoriya Izuku using his quirk to mimic Katsuki Bakugo. Of course, there was only ever one response Katsuku Bakugo possessed when faced with such a situation.

"What the fuck are you all looking at? Do we look like we invited you to sit down, drink tea and listen in on our private fucking conversation? HUH?"

Like clockwork, the student's gazes snapped forward on instinct. Only two individuals were left staring. The teacher, and Katsuki Bakugo himself.

"Ah… Midoriya-kun –"

"What?"

The teacher cleared his throat. "Ah – er… that is an… interesting use of your quirk. But… er… do, keep it down, just a bit."

"Tch. Whatever."

The teacher returned to his board, the students gossiped, and, just as they believed the day could not have gotten any more ludicrous, a sound emerged from the back row that no one had ever heard, and no one ever believed they would hear.

It was the sound, of Katsuki Bakugo… laughing.

A ~ P ~ N

"Her, do her next."

Midoriya Izuku cleared his throat. "I do, surely believe, as an Oujo-sama of this distinguished family, that requesting me to perform such paltry tricks for your amusement is beneath someone of my station." The smooth, feminine voice flowed from his mouth with fluidity and grace.

Kacchan was amused, a fiendish grin on his face from the reaction of passersby when they heard the feminine voice, but failed to identify where it was coming from, or who was speaking.

"Try… All Might."

Izuku grinned. "HAVE NO FEAR, CITIZENS! FOR I AM HERE! NO EVILDOERS SHALL ESCAPE THE MIGHTY POWER OF JUSTICE!"

"All Might?"

"I heard All Might's voice just now!"

"All Might is here?"

Kacchan held his sides, covering his mouth with one hand as he tried not to bark in laughter. Izuku couldn't help but feel a little bit sad for the people who were now rapidly searching the area with their phones in hand to find the Symbol of Peace himself, muttering, whispering and conjuring theories about how All Might may have gained the power to turn invisible, or project his presence from a distance.

"Fine, I'll admit it," Kacchan said, regaining control of his laughter. "Your quirk isn't anywhere near as strong as mine… but it's fucking damn more entertaining."

"That's some really high praise coming from you Kacchan."

"Don't let it go to your head."

"I'll be sure to cherish the moment you praised my quirk forever, Katsuki-kun."

Kacchan's left eye twitched. "Alright. You sound more irritating than your usual fucking self. Who the fuck are you mimicking now?"

Izuku couldn't help himself. "The only person I'd ever want to mimic is you, Katsuki-kun."

"That's fucking creepy."

"But Katsuki-kun – I thought you liked it when people wore your ski – ouch!" Izuku rubbed the back of his head. "Fine – fine – I'll stop mimicking Hebimaru-sensei."

"That's who you were mimicking?" Kacchan shuddered. "No fucking wonder it sounded so gross. You know he's a slimy fucking bastard right?"

"Just because his quirk makes him part snake doesn't mean he's slimy."

"The fact that he's always loitering around the girl's bathroom makes him fucking slimy."

Izuku cringed. "I – I didn't know that."

Kacchan snorted. "Of course you didn't. You barely notice anything that happens around the school."

"I – I was always dealing with my own problems." Izuku admitted. "Not having a quirk. Not having any friends. Ka-chan stress eating. My own thoughts of how much I just wanted to give up. And you… Kacchan… you didn't make it any easier with your words and… I…"

Izuku bit his lip. "They… hurt. The words… more than the shoves or explosions in my face. Your words… hurt Kacchan."

"Why the fuck do you care so much about anything I say?"

"Because you're… my friend Kacchan. Or at least… the closest thing I have to a friend." Izuku said, awkwardly rubbing his hand. "Even though you berated me, and insulted me, and belittled my dream… we were friends before you got your quirk and left me in the dust. And I – I didn't want to lose that. I'd already lost my dream, lost my joy, lost my mom's peace of mind… and if – if I lost my only friend as well… it'd be like I lost everything. Everything. Just because I wasn't born with a quirk. I – I don't think I could have come back from that."

There was something off, about Kacchan. Izuku wasn't sure what he was. But… his fists were balled up. His expression was fierce. Fiercer than he'd ever seen.

"Ah – s-sorry, I didn't… I didn't mean to u-upset you –"

"What the fuck is wrong with you?"

Izuku flinched from the sheer anger in his tone. "I – I don't understand –"

Kacchan didn't say another word. The boy stormed off, leaving in an arbitrary direction. Izuku wanted to follow him. He wanted to find out what he said, or did that was wrong. He wasn't trying to guilt trip Kacchan or anything like that.

I just… want us to be friends again.

He just wanted to have a friend, again.

He just wanted a friend.

A ~ P ~ N

Katsuki Bakugo needed something to vent on. He needed something solid, and sturdy, to bare the full brunt of his explosions. He needed to fucking unleash out the crushing sensation he was feeling in his chest otherwise he felt it just might explode.

Fucking Deku –

Contrary to what many would believe, Katsuki Bakugo was not incapable of empathy. He was not heartless, or empty, or cold, as many would believe. He understood emotions more than most, just that the emotion he understood the most was anger. Anger and rage. Right now, he felt those two things. He felt them, and they were eating him up inside, because the target of that anger and rage was one fucking annoying piece of shit.

A piece of shit named Katsuki Bakugo.

Fuck!

He kicked aside an aluminum beer can in his path as his teeth grinded against each other. It pissed him off. Pissed him off, listening to Deku. Listening to how someone he treated like trash, no, perhaps worse than trash, talk to him about them being friends. He wanted to call Deku delusional. Delusional and pathetic.

Yet, the real pathetic one was him.

Him, a person who desired to become a hero, to become the hero, not even able to realize when a person needed saving. Not even able to see the harm his words and actions were causing. Too blind to his own stupid temperament and ego.

Did Deku even know, how he looked, when he spoke? He doubted the boy did. He doubted he could see how he looked. How tired, he looked. How empty, he looked. Shattered. Broken. Worn. Desperate.

Bakugo was pissed. He was pissed at himself. He was pissed on Midoriya's behalf. He was pissed, because he knew that damned Deku wouldn't get mad at him. He knew, that damned Deku wouldn't even ask for an apology, wouldn't care if he never gave him an apology, would merely go on and continue acting like Bakugo's own words and actions had not been the final straw that broke the camel's back.

He hated that Midoriya wasn't upset with him. He would have taken that. It would have been easier, to handle that. To handle resentment. To handle rage and scorn. To take all of his hate. It was worse, that Midoriya wasn't upset with him. Didn't demand anything of him. Didn't make it easy, for him. Didn't provide a means or an out for him. All Deku wanted from him… was to be his friend, even after… everything.

Deku chose to forgive him.

And that made Bakugo unable to forgive himself.

It gnawed at him. Ate at him. Burned deep within him. A sense of overwhelming revulsion for himself. Of disgust, for himself. A nausea that struck every time he pictured Deku's face, Deku's empty, hollow face, as the boy narrated how he'd been struggling, and how, Bakugo, the only person in the world he saw as a friend, made those struggles worse.

Three seconds later, Bakugo stumbled into an alley and heaved the contents of his stomach into the nearest trash bin.

Fuck.

Katsuki Bakugo didn't want to be a piece of shit. He didn't want to be that sort of scum. That type of pathetic. Even villains and bastards didn't try to make life harder for their fucking henchmen. Yet alone friends. Yet alone someone who wanted to be a hero.

Some fucking hero you're going to turn out to be.

He'd make things right, somehow. He knew, he had to make things right, somehow.

He just wished he could figure out how.

A ~ P ~ N

"Here, kitty… I've brought some snacks for you."

The stray cats of Musutafu were wary of strangers. They did not approach most people, and were skittish around those with particularly intimidating mutant quirks. Izuku liked that the cats seemed to like him. Animals, seemed to like him. They were nice. He liked animals too. Though he wasn't sure about keeping an animal as a pet. It felt wrong, in some ways. He knew that there were pet owners who did the absolute best for their animal companions and treated them with love and care, but there were also a lot of pet owners who did the opposite. He didn't like those type of pet owners.

"Is it okay if I give you a name?"

The black tabby in question didn't seem to mind. It purred, rubbing it's face against Izuku's outstretched hand. It reminded him of that girl he met in the morning. Of her kitty, Mr. Sniffles who'd been stuck up a tree.

It felt good, to help people in need. It made him feel better about himself, whenever he could do something to make someone's day shine just a little bit brighter. He wanted to do that, to make people's day shine brighter, bit by bit. He wanted to be the type of person he wished he could have met.

"How's… Kuro?"

The cat purred, it's tail swaying from side to side.

"You don't like it? I guess it's kind of too common a name…"

"Shinigami."

The voice came from behind him. He didn't startle. He heard the footsteps, long before they had arrived. Though, they weren't his usual footsteps. They didn't seem to have the same level of confidence to them. The sound wasn't like he knew. Wasn't at all like he remembered.

"I don't think that's a good name for a cat Kacchan."

There was a moment's pause. Izuku looked at the cat. "What do you think, would you like to be called Shinigami?"

"You could add a title to it. Make it formal. Kickass. Like… Sir. Sir Shinigami. It'll let it know the other cats know not to fuck with him."

Izuku couldn't help his lips twitching. "How about, Sir Kuro the Shinigami?"

"It's a hell of a mouthful for a damn cat."

"Sir Kuro the Shinigami it is. We can call him Shin, or Gami, or Kuro – or just Sir. What do you think, Sir?"

"There's no fucking way I'm calling a cat, Sir."

Izuku picked up the newly minted Sir Kuro, holding him into the air. He spun on his feet, gesturing the cat forward. "Think fast!"

"Oi – Deku you –"

Kacchan had good reflexes. Enough to catch Sir Kuro. Enough to keep the cat at arm's length. Kuro purred, stretching out and rubbing his whiskers against Kacchan's palms. The blonde's eye twitched, and he shot a murderous glare at the cat.

Kuro ignored it and started to lick his fur.

"I think he likes you."

"He's fucking ignoring me."

"That's how you know he likes you."

Kacchan snorted. Izuku dusted his palms, and threw his head back. "I'm tired. I'm going to head home before Ka-san starts to get worried."

"Hey, De –" Kacchan stopped. "I...Izuku. Wait."

He couldn't remember the last time he heard Kacchan call him by his name. His actual name. Not Deku, or trash, or mob, or loser, or nerd – but his name. He couldn't remember the last time. The last time Kacchan stood, his face a cornucopia of emotions, his eyes averted to the side, his stance solemn… defeated.

"I –" Kacchan opened his mouth, but stopped. Izuku could hear the grinding of teeth. The dry licking of lips. The swallowing of saliva. He could see the accumulation of sweat. The shortness of breath. The slow, unsteady, shaking of hands.

"I –"

"Hey, Kacchan." Izuku said. "Do you want to come over to my place and play videogames?"

The tension left his shoulders. Izuku knew. Izuku could tell. He knew, because he understood what it was like, to have something eating at him from the inside. He didn't know what it was that was eating Kacchan up, but he knew, sometimes, the best way to get rid of that feeling – was to simply have someone around you.

"Video…games?" Kacchan repeated.

"I started playing, recently." He smiled awkwardly. "Ka-san bought me a console and several new games after I unlocked my quirk. I think she's trying to spoil me, you know, to make up for…" He trailed off. "We can play Heroes Smash V."

"That's… the new one… isn't it? With All Might?"

Izuku took Kuro out of his friend's hands. He reached into his back for one final treat, dropping it in front of the cat, and rubbing the creature's ears for good measure.

"Come on, Kacchan," Izuku said.

For once, he didn't look back, as he kept walking. He didn't agonize, if the conversation was over. He didn't ask, perhaps, if the boy had different thoughts. Izuku Midoriya wanted a friend, but he knew, and understood, that not everything was meant to be. So he walked, he walked, ignoring the tiny pit in his stomach when he didn't hear footsteps trailing behind him. He walked, ignoring the churning bitterness in his mouth when no footsteps followed. He walked, forcing down the lump in his throat at the silence.

And he walked.

"Oi! Izuku! Wait up damn it!"

And a sensation unlike any other rose from his chest. The sound of footsteps echoed behind him, and for the first time in what felt like eons –

Midoriya Izuku was happy.

"You fucking can't."

He and Kacchan argued again. Izuku didn't like it when they argued. He liked it even less, when Kacchan said some of the things he said. When Kacchan was pessimistic about things in the world. When he reduced people to being only the weak and the strong. The user and the used. When he made it sound like everyone was terrible.

"I can!"

"Izuku – be fucking real."

"All Might does it."

"All Might never loses," Kacchan snarled. "He never fucking loses. But that doesn't mean he fucking saves everybody. Check the fucking listings. Endeavor has solved more bloody incidents than All Might – and even then, Endeavor has never, ever saved everyone."

"Then I'll be the type of hero that saves everyone."

"Stop saying such cheesy bullshit like this is one of those those stupid comic books and manga!" Kacchan yelled. "You're just going to fucking kill yourself if you try to save everyone. You're going to fuck yourself over if you try to please everyone. That's your problem Izuku – you're a fucking people pleaser. You want a world were everyone is your fucking friend and you can hold hands and sing kumbaya, but that shit doesn't happen. It can't happen. You'll make enemies just by breathing. Make enemies just by taking the last slice of pie on a tray that someone else wanted. The problem is, you'll be too fucking dense to even realize they're your enemies, and when you do – it'll be too late."

Midoriya didn't see things that way. There was good, and then there was evil. There were people, flawed people, but flawed people needed second chances, help, assistance. Then there were those who were beyond help. Those who used their flaws and troubles as an excuse to hurt others. As a justification for picking on the weak. He didn't like those kind of people. He liked it even less, that Kacchan was sometimes among those type of people.

Their entire argument had started over a game of Heroes Smash V. First, the discussion and pre-game banter. Then, the post-game swears from Kacchan as he lost, time and again. Then, he mentioned the type of hero he wanted to be. Kacchan followed and talked about the kind of hero he wanted to be as well.

They did not see eye-to-eye on the issue.

Kacchan wanted to be the strongest hero. The type of hero that never lost a single battle. The ones that villains would flee in terror from, because his presence evoked that sensation of fear and doom. A hero whose mere existence made evil cower, running with tail between legs.

Izuku wanted to be the kindest hero. The one who went out of his way to inspire hope and uphold justice. The everyday man's hero. A figure who would fight grand evil, but was never to busy to help a cat out of a tree, or an old lady across the street. The kind of hero that the people loved and adored, and a hero that would never fail at saving anyone who needed saving.

Kacchan took objection. He said, it wasn't possible to save everyone who needed saving. Izuku took objection. He believed it was. The argument snowballed from there.

"I'll prove you wrong."

"And how the fuck are you going to do that?"

Izuku bit his lip. "At school. I'll – I'll help everybody that needs help. I'll tell them, I AM HERE! So – so they know that they can always have someone to count on in their time of need. If – if I can help everyone, help everyone without issue – then you'll believe me when I say I can save everyone too."

Kacchan scoffed. "You'll fucking regret it Izuku."

"I won't. I love helping people."

"Izuku you're basically saying you're going to let yourself be a fucking doormat. It's like a lion choosing to cut off his claws, shave his mane and fucking expose his neck to a pack of hyenas. They'll slaughter you."

Izuku frowned. "People aren't as bad as you think they are Kacchan."

"You're right," Kacchan agreed. "They're fucking worse."

Kacchan was becoming more and more of a pessimist than Izuku remembered. He didn't know why that was. Why his friend was always quick to see the negatives. He'd always been foul-mouthed and hot-tempered, but he'd never had such little faith in other people. The fact that he wanted to be a hero, not to save people, but to stop villains, was already something that Izuku could not wrap his head around.

"You'll see Kacchan." Izuku said. "I'll show you what kind of hero I'm going to be."

|A Precise Note|

Aldera Junior High was abuzz the morning Izuku made his announcement to his class. Standing high on a table, forcing down the rapid beating of his own heart and his own lack of confidence, he channeled his inner Katsuki, and made his declaration.

"If there's anyone who needs help with anything at all, um – y-you can ask me, and I'll try my best to help you out!"

One lizard-eyed student narrowed his gaze. "What's the catch?"

"Um – there's no catch. I just… want to help out as many people as I can."

"With your quirk?" another student asked.

Izuku rubbed the side of his head. "Well… if it's something that my quirk can help with… then… yes?"

The whispers and murmurs travelled through the classroom at the speed of light. Izuku could feel his chest pounding even harder at the sudden rush of excitement that everyone seemed to have. Why exactly were they so excited?

He glanced at the back row, finding Kacchan scoffing while doing his best to act uninterested with the whole thing. Just wait, Kacchan – I'll show you –

Midoriya Izuku liked to help people. There was a satisfaction he got from helping others with their problems. He didn't even really want gratitude. He didn't need gratitude. He just wanted to be there for people. He wanted to be there for people, because there was no one who was there for him. And he knew how terrible that felt. He hated how horrible it felt. When there was no one in your corner. No one to smile and tell you to chin up. No one to believe in your dreams and tell you to never give up. When no one, not even your own mother, believed you could accomplish your dreams.

For the first few hours, class proceeded as normal, and no one asked him for anything. At least, until halfway through the third period, when the teacher called out a student to help clean the chalkboard. The student, grumbled, before suddenly jerking his head back.

"Hey, Izuku-kun, do you mind helping me with the blackboard?"

The eyes of everyone in the class was on him. "Um – oh – okay –"

The teacher rose an eyebrow, but said nothing. There were whispers, chortles and chuckles. Izuku stood, grabbed the duster, and in three precise, smooth movements, the board was wiped spotless. The entire process barely took two seconds.

The teacher whistled quietly. "My, Midoriya-san. That's impressive. Your quirk?"

"Y-yeah."

"Go on, back to your seat."

He dusted off his hands, taking his place beside Kacchan, who was trying his hardest not to stare at him. "Oi – Izuku. Better call it quits now."

"What are you talking about?"

"You don't know these bastards like I do. You never got to know them because you were always dealing with your own shit. But if you don't call it quits now, it's going to get fucking worse."

"You're paranoid Kacchan."

Kacchan scoffed. "Don't say I didn't fucking warn you."

"Midoriya-san, hey, hey, my right hand is feeling kind of sore… can you help me copy the notes?" A pug-faced girl asked.

"Ah… well, I can help…"

"Thanks!"

She tossed her book over to him, leaned back in her chair and started subtly pressing her phone underneath her desk.

"Hey, Izuku – my hand's kind of sore too."

"Yeah, me too."

"Me as well – must be the weather."

The books piled, one after the other. One after the other, until half of the students in the class were snickering, and Izuku's table was overflowing with a dozen notebooks.

This is fine. He took a breath. A soft, long, deep breath, and he sent his two hands to work. The snickering stopped abruptly as everyone turned to stare. His left and right hands were blurring. Blurring from movement. Faster than the human eye could track, Midoriya Izuku's two hands moved in tandem. Words appeared upon pages in fluent, eloquent kanji. It was less of him writing and more of him printing, as his handwriting could effortlessly be mistaken for a computer-generated document.

The books slid, one after the other, circling and juggling in the air as he wrote them all, leaving no room for error, no margin for mistake. He copied the teacher's words on the board just as the man wrote them, and for him, a person whose goal was to be a hero that saved everyone, writing a dozen notes simultaneously was something he could manage.

"No way…"

"He's like a computer."

The bell rang. The teacher dropped his chalk, just at the exact moment Midoriya Izuku wrote the final characters and closed the books. With a flick of his wrists, the books spun in the air like shuriken, rushing to their appropriate owners.

"And that's all we have time for right now – and why are you all staring at Midoriya?"

"I was helping them out sensei. A lot of people's wrists seem to be sore for some reason, so I helped them out with the notes."

"Is… that so?" The teacher cleared his throat. "W-well – then, carry on."

No sooner did the teacher leave, did the class burst into excited cheers and mutterings. "Yo! Izuku that was fucking cool!"

"Your quirk is awesome!"

"Midoriya! The boys are going to shoot some hoops. We'd love for you to join us. You don't have anything doing right? Come on!"

"Er… sure. Why not?"

Kacchan was still skulking. Izuku gave him the peace sign. He knew he could do it. That he could help people. And the way their eyes all lit up at him, the way they were excited, happy with him –

"What's the hold up?"

"I'm coming!"

Lunch break wasn't all that long, so, he knew that once he'd helped the boys out with shooting hoops he'd go straight back to helping other people. The basketball court wasn't far off from the main playground and swings. It was, kind of, his first time ever, playing basketball. He wasn't sure of the rules. He didn't really know how to play.

Yet, the second the ball was tossed in his direction, he knew what to do. He bounced, once, twice, rose his arm, and –

"A three pointer?"

"Damn."

"Izuku… were you using your quirk?"

Izuku stared at his hands. "I… I wasn't."

"Huh. Make him go a bit farther – let's see how he fares. And no using your quirk."

The distance was such that he could barely make out the net. Yet, the second the ball entered his palms, his body moved on instinct. One, two, bounce and –

"Holy shit."

"He made the shot? How the hell did he make that?"

"You cheated. You used your quirk, didn't you?"

"No… I-I… didn't."

"There's no way you would have made that shot without your quirk."

"But – I –"

"Whatever. Come on, let's just have some fun."

There wasn't much fun to be had. He couldn't be dribbled. No matter what strategy they tried, no matter how they attempted to fool him, it didn't work. His eyes saw through it. His body moved on instinct. Reflexes activated on their own accord and prevented anyone from getting past him.

It was even worse when he was the one doing the dribbling. He bounced the ball at speeds most couldn't follow. He could stop his movements and spin on a dime. He could slip through the tiniest of spaces without being touched. If he didn't want to be touched, he couldn't be touched. His reflexes would activate on their own and prevent anyone from getting close to touching him. Preventing anyone from getting close to touching the ball.

"Hey, Izuku – I think… we think maybe you should go."

"Go?"

"Yeah. It's… no fun with you. You're too broken man. Like a cheat character. Seven us ganged up and we couldn't even touch you."

"Oh. Um – maybe, maybe we could play something else?"

"Like what?" One of the boys scoffed. "Every sport requires reflexes and timing and stuff. It'll just be a repeat of this."

"Yeah. Sorry, Izuku – but – we don't think you should participate in sports anymore."

"It wouldn't be fair to any side to have you on a team."

"Oh," he said, quietly. "Um… okay… but… if you need my help with anything else… I'll be here."

"Yeah, yeah whatever."

He made his way away from the court, but his ears didn't. They were more acute than most. Acute enough to catch their muffled conversation before he left.

"Ugh, Midoriya's a freak."

"I can't believe I preferred him when he was quirkless. Now he's got a quirk and he's fucking looking down on all of us. Getting payback for all the stuff we did to him."

"Is that what he's doing?"

No – it's – it's not –

"Come on. I mean, standing up in front of the class and saying he'll help out anyone who asks for his help? He's doing it to make us all look incompetent."

"Compared to him… we kind of are."

"It's not our fault he's got a freakish quirk. How's anyone supposed to compare to that?"

He wanted to march back and tell them that they were wrong. That he wasn't trying to upstage them. To make them look bad. He couldn't. He couldn't, not without revealing that his quirk augmented his hearing. Not without making himself appear even worse.

"Hey, Midoriya! There you are!"

Izuku's head snapped up. Another one of his classmates approached him, waving his hand eagerly. Matsuda, Izuku remembered his name. "Been looking all over for you dude. I need your help."

Something swelled in Izuku's chest."Sure! I-I'll help! What do you need?"

"Do you mind using your quirk to help me draw a portrait?"

Izuku blinked. It wasn't quite what he'd expected or anticipated, but it was still someone asking for his help. "Um… I haven't tried drawing with my quirk yet… but I-I'll see what I can do."

"Great! It has to be a portrait of Akari-chan!"

Akari? She was, arguably, one of the prettier girls in the class. Actually, the prettiest girl in the class. Although she was also known for being cold. He wants a portrait of Akari? "Er… I… I think I can do that."

"Great." The boy said. "Also, I need you to…" he leaned in, whispering the details of the portrait into his ear. With every word, Izuku's eyes grew wider, his face grew hotter, and he barely let the boy finished before pushing him away.

"I – I can't – that's… that's…"

"Of course you can!" The boy patted him on his back. "Your quirk lets you do anything you want with absolute precision doesn't it? This'll be nothing for you."

"I mean… I shouldn't. It's… wrong. She – she won't like that – it's – it's wrong –"

"Come on Midoriya-kun. It's just art. Art! Besides, didn't you say you'd help anyone who needed it? Why can't you help me with this?"

"It's… it's wrong! I – I can't do that!"

"So, you're saying you can't help me? Is that it? After standing up in front of the whole class and telling everyone you'd help them… in the end, you were just all talk?"

"No!" Izuku bit his lip. "I – I mean…" Could he? "Why d-do you even want s-something like that?"

Matsuda stared at him. "Are you… gay or something?"

"W-what?"

"I mean, you and Bakugo are kinda close, I didn't want to assume – not that there's anything wrong with it –"

Midoriya spluttered. "I'm not! We – we're not – we're just friends!"

"Then why're you asking what I want to do with the portrait? Obviously, I'm going to add it to my spank bank."

"Y-your… w-what?"

Matsuda stared harder. "Are you sure you're not gay? Wait, no, even gay people know what a spank bank is. You're not asexual or something are you?"

"A-asexual?"

"It means you don't get hard when watching porn."

Midoriya felt a new amount of heat rush to his face. "I – I don't –"

"You don't?"

"W-watch p-p-porn." he finished. "I – I don't watch –"

"Bullshit," Matsuda scoffed.

"I – I'm serious."

There were several seconds of terse silence before Matsuda's eyes widened in realization. "Holy shit. You're not pulling my leg?"

Midoriya nodded.

"Huh. I thought guys like you were only an urban legend, or a myth that self-righteous people spread to make the rest of us feel bad." Matsuda muttered under his breath. "So how do you get off? Don't tell me you use your imagination or something. That'd be one hell of an imagination."

"G-get… o-off?"

"You know?" Matsuda made several forward and back movements with his right hand. "Jack it off? Beat the chicken?" Midoriya stared, blinking in confusion. "Holy fucking shit, you can't tell me you've never heard of masturbation. Are you from the Sengoku era or something?"

How did this conversation get to this point? Midoriya coughed into his hand, trying his hardest to avoid eye contact. "I… don't d-do that…"

"So… what, you just go around ignoring the urges?" Matsuda rubbed his chin. "Or, is it that puberty hasn't kicked in yet for you?"

"U-um – I-I think w-we've gone o-off track –"

Matsuda waved his hand. "No, no, we're on the right track. I wanna know how it's like for other people – or maybe if it's just me."

"W-what?"

"My Quirk," Matsuda said. Midoriya looked even further confused. "You don't remember what my quirk is? We all had that class where we showed our – oh that's right. You were quirkless back then. You probably didn't show up."

Matsuda grunted, letting out a large, bear-like growl. In a manner of seconds, the boy's muscle definition grew. It grew and continued growing until his shirt was several sizes too small, on the verge of ripping, and his entire physical form was reminiscent to that of bodybuilders. The most notable difference, however, was his face and arms. His face was overridden with thick, bushy beards. His arms as well were incredibly hairy.

"My quirk is called Man Up." Matsuda's voice was deeper, far more baritone than before. "It makes my entire body flood with testosterone to develop muscles and tons of hair. It makes me pretty antsy for a fight, energized, a bit short tempered… and horny."

The boy's muscles deflated like a popped balloon. His facial hair receded back to whence they came, and his uniform was crumpled from the transformation.

"The thing is, as a side-effect, my quirk makes my body secrete at least five times more testosterone on average than most guys. I started puberty when I was six. I had a full beard when I was eleven. I constantly have to shave every morning, but the worst part is how hard it gets whenever I so much as get a glimpse of a girl's legs… or skirt… or thighs… or… well, any part, really."

"Oh."

Midoriya didn't know what to say. He wasn't sure, what to say. He'd heard of people's quirks having unintended consequences or issues that altered their biology and led to problems they themselves had no control over, but it was his first time actually realizing he knew someone like that.

"That's… hard."

"Was that supposed to be a pun?"

Izuku's eyes widened. "No – no – I was – I mean –"

"Relax," Matsuda chuckled. "You're not wrong. I wear three pairs of boxer shorts everyday, and sometimes, it's still not enough to hide it. The worst part is during P.E. classes – it's like they're trying to make my life more difficult."

"Um… have you tried, talking to specialist?"

Matsuda nodded, grimacing. "Put me on some treatment for hormone imbalance and what not. Tried to counter the testosterone production with estrogen. It… it didn't end well."

There was more to the story, but Midoriya couldn't find it in him to ask.

"So, yeah," Matsuda shrugged. "I watch a ton of porn. I read a lot of doujin and watch hentai too. I'm pretty sure there's no hentai on this planet you can name that I haven't watched. Kinda wish there was a trivia contest for that sort of thing – I'd take home the gold any day."

"S-so the reason you want a portrait of Akari-san –"

"I – I – kinda like her," Matsuda admitted. "Nah, that's an understatement. I'm head-over-heels for her. Just her looking at me makes me harder than porno of mutant-type girls hitting it with a guy with a tentacle quirk. I asked her out, you know. She says she's got a boyfriend who's in his second year in senior high. Going to one of the top hero academies to boot. And me? I'm just the guy whose quirk makes him always horny. I can't really compete with that can I?"

Matsuda clasped his hands in front of him. "So I just need a portrait, Midoriya. A picture. Something to have as a consolation. A cathartic object. I don't care if people think it's disgusting, or wrong or whatever. They haven't walked in my shoes. They don't know what it's like, to constantly feel like I feel. To have to jerk off five times a day on average just to think straight. It's not my fault I was born like this – but at least – at least I'm trying my hardest."

Midoriya Izuku's throat felt dry. This… It was more complicated than he thought. It would have been easier, if it was just a request from some sort of deviant, but Matsuda was… different.

What was the right thing to do? To draw porn of his own classmate to help a person with peculiar circumstances, or to refuse, and leave Matsuda to suffer on his own in silence? To condemn him for something that wasn't entirely in how own control – wouldn't that make Izuku like the very same people who looked down on him, simply because he'd been born without a quirk?

I'm… I'm not really hurting anyone… and… and if it's for a good cause –

"I – if… if you promise not to tell anyone, not to show anyone, not to mention it to anyone –"

The boy's face lit up. "You have my word – no one will know of Akari-chan's portrait but myself and my right hand."

Izuku cringed. "S-swear on it?"

Matsuda's hand rose to his chest. "I swear on my mutantgirl hentai collection."

His heart thumped heavily in his chest as they made their way over to a secluded corner. Littered with cigarette stubs and several empty cans of beer, it was an area the delinquents used. An area Izuku never believed he would have a reason to get near to.

He took a deep breath before grabbing the boy's drawing book, Matsuda-san, Izuku recalled his name, and reaching for his black pen.

"You're using a pen? To draw?"

"Y-yeah?"

"Why not a pencil? So you can erase mistakes?"

"My quirk… it's named Precision… it - it doesn't make mistakes."

"Pretty badass claim. Let's see if it's true."

The entire process started at once. The image was fueled from his mind. From the description of details Matsuda told him. To finding and finetuning his own mental image of Kobayashi Akari. His right hand dropped the pen upon the paper, and it moved.

The image from his mind fed directly into his hand. The drawing was not made conventionally, rather, his hand moved as though it were a printer, or typewriter, artificially printing out an image from right to left, and top to bottom. The entire process was a blur. His hand moved faster than his own brain could process. The pressure and speed of the pen on the paper was such that it felt as though the object was gliding. Skating across ice.

After a solid thirty full seconds, his hand came to a stop at the bottom, and Midoriya Izuku stared at what he had created.

"W-whoa. Fuck. It's… um… there's a word for this kind of art…. Realism? No, what was it?"

"Photorealism." Izuku whispered, staring at the portrait.

A portrait of a classmate. A portrait of a classmate so stunningly drawn it was indistinguishable from a photograph. Had Midoriya not been the one to draw it himself, he would not have believed someone actually drew it. He would have believed it was a picture with a filter applied on top. A portrait of a classmate, naked. A gag in her mouth. Her hands bound forward. An aroused, defiant look.

Each second he stared at the portrait, he felt something stir within him. An overwhelming heat rushed to his face at the realization that he drew this. I drew this.

"Yo, Midoriya, if the whole hero business doesn't pan out… you'd make a bloody fortune as an artist."

"A-h-hah…" Izuku's mind was not focusing on that. It was focusing on his art. The art he drew.

I drew this. How did I draw this?

He'd never seen a pair of female breasts before in his life, except in biology textbooks. Never accurately studied human art or anatomy. How did his quirk get all the details right, such as Akari-san's dual piercings, to her belly button being outward rather than inward?

"I don't think I've ever heard of anyone being stunned speechless by their own art before." Matsuda chuckled.

Izuku's attention came back to reality. His mind shifted gears, no longer focusing on the art, and more on the eroticism. He'd never watched porn before. It wasn't like he had the time to sit down and focus on such things like normal kids his age when he was too busy being quirkless. He'd never masturbated either as a result. Nor could he ever remember having a crush on anyone.

Was it… possible?

"Um… Matsuda-san… is it… is it possible for someone's quirk to affect them, like… have a side-effect on them, without them realizing it?"

"Well, yeah." Matsuda nodded. "I know of a girl in another school whose quirk kicked in and turned her completely invisible. Turned out she never realized it, and didn't understand why people were running away from the floating dress and shoes." The boy shook his head. "Stuff like that isn't uncommon. Why're you asking? You think your quirk has a side-effect you never noticed?"

"W-well… my quirk makes my reflexes and h-hand-eye-coordination precise. Like… r-really, really precise. I o-once caught a fly out of the air b-by its wings w-without killing it. A-another t-time, I d-dodged a baseball c-coming at m-me from b-behind without e-even knowing it was coming."

Matsuda shrugged. "Seems pretty standard."

"B-but… w-what if… my quirk also affects… m-my insides? Like r-regulating my b-blood, or – or s-stabilizing my h-heartbeat, o-or –"

"Affecting the secretion of hormones?"

Izuku nodded, slowly. "Making everything… p-precise."

"Woah. That'd be insane." Matsuda said. "Have you like… tested it out?"

"Tested?"

"Yeah. I mean, we know you can precisely mimic people's voices and body language like what you did with Bakugo in class… so that means your quirk affects your voice-box and affects your brain to be able to make you mimic someone's personality… and that means your quirk does affect your biology – so…" Matsuda hummed. "Try… making your teeth precise."

"My… teeth?"

"I mean, gotta start small. Worst case scenario you make them all fall out. Still better than messing with your stomach or brain or something."

Izuku closed his eyes. Making my teeth more precise? How would that work? How can someone's teeth be more precise?

He opened his eyes. "I-I don't think I can –" Matsuda was staring. "W-what?"

The boy wordlessly reached into his pocket, brought out a cellphone and opened the front camera. Izuku blinked, and he blinked again at his pearly white dentures. Shining dentures. More than that, the teeth were perfectly aligned. Upper and lower, all perfectly aligned when he closed his mouth.

"Wow."

"Did you feel anything happen in your mouth? Pain? Discomfort?"

"No – I – nothing."

Matsuda nodded. "Well, there's your answer. If your quirk can instantly make your teeth shine and make them perfect without you even noticing a difference… it's not hard to believe that your quirk is doing other things to your body that you have no idea is happening."

Izuku was not sure he liked that realization. He was highly uncomfortable with that realization. My quirk could be… affecting me without me realizing it?

"Anyway," Matsuda grabbed the portrait of Akari, rolling it up and slipping it into his bag. "Thanks a bunch for the help Midoriya."

"It's… it's nothing. I said I'd help anyone I could."

"Yeah, but everyone knows that words are cheap. It takes a real man to say something, and stick to it despite his reservations. And that's coming from a guy whose quirk is literally to become a manly man."

Matsuda gestured out his fist. Izuku stared for a few seconds. "Um…"

"It's a fist bump, man. Don't tell me you've never been fist-bumped."

I… haven't. I didn't have anyone to fist-bump with –

Midoriya Izuku's right hand stretched forward, his fist meeting Matsuda's on. A strange, foreign sense of exhilaration and excitement rushed through him. The fist-bump. A fist-bump. He fist-bumped someone.

Am I… making friends?

"If you ever need an expert on pornography and endocrinology, I'm your guy."

"Thanks… Matsuda-kun."

I'm making friends.

"Now on to more serious issues, how the hell have you never masturbated before?"

"U-uh, l-look at the t-time –"

"Oh, nononono – you're not going anywhere until I teach you about one of the finer aspects of being a man. So basically, there are different grip styles, but the standard version typically looks like this, and you'll need something to lubricate –"

Midoriya Izuku could feel his face burn up with each word that Matsuda spoke. His own inexperience and slight uncomfortableness with the subject matter at hand was prevalent, and he wanted to do nothing more than slam his hands over his ears and shut out the words and thoughts.

He didn't. He didn't, because he could see Matsuda's face. The excitement on it. The eagerness at which the boy narrated and talked, explaining lewd concepts and judging indecent material with the same flair as a wine connoisseur. There was fervor, and passion, and zest, the kind at which Izuku remembered having when he used to talk about heroes. The type he had when he talked about All Might.

"You…. You're really passionate about this… you Matsuda-kun?"

Matsuda scratched his chin, awkwardly. "Yeah… I guess. I haven't told anyone else this but… when I get older, I want to become an adult film star. There isn't much else I can see myself doing with my quirk. If I tried to take a normal office job or something… my libido would just get me into trouble. Rather than being the sleazy guy who everyone'd know can't keep it in his pants… I'd rather just take a job where I'd be praised for not keeping it in my pants."

Matsuda grinned, giving him a thumbs up. "So, if you haven't gotten laid when I make it big, I'll be sure to introduce you to tons of hot girls Midoriya."

Izuku, couldn't help it. His lips curled, softly into a smile. Then, they opened, and he laughed.

"Hey! I'm serious here!"

"I – I know. It's just…"

You – you've been looking for someone to talk to… about this, haven't you? Someone who'd listen… someone, who wouldn't judge you…

A person who'd be there for you.

Everyone… everyone deserved at least that, didn't they? Everyone deserved, at least one person, who'd root for them, no matter how odd, or how weird, or how unusual they were. No matter how crazy, or mad, or impossible their dreams –

Everyone deserved at least that.

"I'm… rooting for you, Matsuda-kun." Izuku said, gesturing his fist forward. "Y-you can do it. Go beyond… plus ultra."

Minoru Matsuda stared, eyes widening for several seconds. His lips, too, curled into a smile. "Thanks… Izuku."

Midoriya Izuku nodded, unable to stop himself from smiling. He knew, one day, Matsuda-kun would accomplish his dreams. Because ultimately, despite it all, Matsuda-kun wasn't a bad person. There were people in the world, who'd have done worse, much worse, with such a quirk. Who'd have used their quirk as a justification for their behavior. Matsuda-kun wasn't like those people.

To keep looking at the bright side despite getting a bad hand in life…

People like that, in Midoriya Izuku's opinion, were true heroes.

"Oh, yeah, you want to be a hero don't you Izuku? If that's the case, I gotta show you one of my favorites, it's a parody of the 18+ only hero Midnight in her debut outfit that created the regulation for how much skin hero costumes are allowed to show –"

True heroes indeed.

|A Precise Note|

"What's got you grinning so much?"

Class, for the most part, resumed as usual after the lunch break. Izuku couldn't keep still, smiling and humming softly underneath his breath.

"Kacchan, did you know there's porn for every single mutant-type quirk out there?"

Katsuki Bakugo choked on his own spit. Coughing out loud in the middle of class, before snapping his head to Izuku and staring at him as if he was looking at an alien lifeform.

"What the fuck?"

"It's kinda… nice? Don't you think? No one is left out, and – and everyone has something for them. Everyone has someone who likes something they do, and… won't judge them for liking it too."

Kacchan rubbed the bridge of his nose. "Did you fucking hit your head or something?"

"I've… just been thinking, Kacchan." Izuku said. "You were wrong. Sure, some people… some people are mean… but it's because everyone has different stories. Everyone… has their own little problems. We don't see it… and – and so, a lot of times we think someone is angry or cruel… when they're simply just… sad... and lonely."

Katsuki Bakugo snorted. The boy's gaze didn't meet Izuku's own. Midoriya felt, strangely, that Kacchan was trying to avoid meeting his gaze.

"Hey, Izuku-kun, my hands getting kinda sore again –" the same pug faced girl, what was her name again, Rainu? "Do you mind?"

"Ah, s-sorry," Izuku managed to look sheepish. "But… I'll be helping you more by not helping you… I-I read that it's better for studying if you're reading your own notes than someone else. And, I – I don't want to be the reason your grades slip, Rainu-san."

"But – my sore hands –"

Izuku reached into his bag. "I-I g-got some hot packs y-you can use? And, um… I could h-help you massage your hands after class?"

The girl in question muttered under her breath. "Great."

Izuku beamed. He felt great, to think ahead and bring hot packs for everyone that'd had sore hands. That way, rather than taking care of the symptom, by helping them write their notes, he'd tackle the disease at its source, by making their hands better. That way, they'd still be able to do their homework once they got home.

Kacchan was staring at him oddly though. Izuku wondered why it was.

"Why the bloody hell are your teeth so shiny?"