(cw: drowning, murder, mentions of suicide)
Izuku's dreams have changed. He isn't sure why.
Normally, he closes his eyes after downing a sleeping pill and wakes up in the depths of his domain inside Extract. He tries his luck at breaching One for All's barrier, and he is unsuccessful each time. He's used to the rejection by now, but it still doesn't make it any easier when the writhing pool of sludge refuses to let him in for the nth time.
Lately, however, he does not wake up in his realm. He wakes up directly inside the bridge between both worlds, and he loiters around in All for One's soul. It scares him, really, how he stopped minding it after only the third time. It scares him that he stopped flinching as much as he did when he first arrived here.
Three nights after Izuku was cleared by Recovery Girl, he goes to sleep and wakes up someplace else, someplace that he can't identify immediately.
He is in a field of hyacinths and lilies, warmth beating down on his face. The tall grass reaches his knees, brushing against his skin softly with the breeze. He smells sweet sap in the distance, and if he strains he can hear bees buzzing all around him.
Where is he? He's not inside One for All, is he? There's no way: he was kicked out. Did he accidentally wake up in his own little realm inside it? That can't be it either—he would feel the other users if he did.
So just how far is he in his father's realm? Where is the void he's grown so accustomed to? Somehow the idea of this warmth existing inside All for One's mind is sadder than anything else he's ever experienced.
"What happened?"
The quiet voice comes from behind. Izuku pauses, eyes widening a fraction, his breath escaping him in a soft sigh. It can't be, he thinks, but his mind tells him it's so, and when he turns around, his eyes confirm it.
Midoriya Izuku stands before him, except he's small and bandaged, holding onto a blackened plushie. He is smaller than even Izuku remembers being at seven years old.
His large eyes are a blinding green, and his hair is a mess. Bruises peek out from under his shirt, littering his neck and wrists. Gloves reside on his hands, and Izuku only stares.
"Did we get in trouble again?" His younger self asks, all curious and confused, and Izuku holds his own arm tight, swaying as the wind picks up. He realizes why the question is asked a moment later, as blood drips down from his face and stains the beautiful peonies beneath him, soaking into the dirt as easily as if it were water.
He touches his cheek, and when he pulls his fingers away, they're wet and red.
How did Izuku get here again? He can't remember, and it scares him. He always remembers.
"We should try harder," the young boy says, almost as if chastising. His eyes follow the red. "Father said so."
The uncomfortable feeling of the blood matting all over his body and sticking his clothes to his skin, coupled with the sudden searing heat of the sun directly overhead, makes Izuku's heart race. His head throbs, and blood pounds in his ears, drowning out the sounds of whatever his young companion is saying next.
The boy's head tips, a concerned lilt to his voice now. Izuku wonders what he's saying. Would it have made a difference if he knew? Would Izuku still have grown so angry if he heard him?
Pain rocks through his body, electrifying his nerves and racing up his spine. Bruises appear on his freckled skin, and it's like he's being beaten, though there is no attacker he can see. It sparks some flavor of rage within him. The weirdness of the situation, the change in his dream, the hurt, the look on his younger self's face—fuck, for some reason it makes him so angry, so bitter, that he's actually numb now. There's no thought in his brain, as static has taken over and ruined the warm edges of this environment.
He takes a step forward, then another, bare feet sinking into the dirt.
The young boy holds out the burnt plushie as an offer, frowning slightly. "Why haven't we tried harder?" He breathes quietly, still so innocent, and Izuku can't take the ringing anymore.
He stands nearly two feet taller than him, and he reaches a hand down, hovering over his head of curls for a moment before dropping it and gripping his scalp. He feels like his insides have grown too large in the few seconds since he's been here, and he will soon split apart at the seams.
Why? Izuku hears in his head, again and again. Why didn't we? What did we do?
This cannot be real. Perhaps Izuku is nowhere, not in Extract, not in All for One, not in One for All. He exists in the space between all living things, just barely skirting by. This Izuku in his hold is a fake, some poor reimagination of who he really is.
The child gasps, but it's quiet, as if he's been conditioned to never make a sound. The plushie drops and disappears into the bloody mound of gardenias, and when Izuku begins to drag the fake along behind him with one hand, he sees him reach for it unsuccessfully.
But this must be another reimagination, too, another mistake. How sick is he to be dreaming of this? How angry must he be in real life to be thinking of this shit?
He sees a pond full of koi and lily pads, and Izuku reaches it with a deathly sort of silence reverberating in his brain.
Nails dig into Izuku's arms and scrabble against him when he pushes the boy under, forcing him beneath the water. Blood mixes with cerulean, and the thrashing scares away the fish. Izuku stares at his rippled reflection until the blood makes it impossible to do so anymore, and he only becomes more angry at how easy this all is.
His vision blurs, and his limbs shake.
If it were the real Izuku fighting back, if it were him writhing and screaming under the surface instead, would it make a difference in how he feels? Would he feel less certain?
But the roles have always been reversed, haven't they? So it's not a fair comparison. It doesn't even matter.
As Izuku holds him down, he watches his little self change; his body distorts, converting into the smoky version of his normal One for All counterpart. But it's a fake, too, of course. Izuku does not sense the things he should here—this is all in his mind, and he just wants to wake up. He thought killing the younger image of himself would do the trick, but he's not there yet. It's harder for him to keep this version of Izuku at bay, but he manages by using Black Whip to squeeze his throat and force him to breathe in the water engulfing him.
Izuku isn't sure how long exactly he crouches there holding the figure under, but all he knows is he is ripped away sometime near the end of it.
A blur of gold blinds him as harshly as the sun, and then he's flung back a few yards. He doesn't recognize the newcomer at first, but then the wispy figure straightens up after yanking the other Izuku out of the pond, and the realization hits him.
He cowers upon meeting the eyes of All Might's vestige, skin prickling. The yellow smoke, vibrant with energy, falls to the floor and spreads out, reaching Izuku's feet. It cannot be his master's true One for All self, but it's so similar that for a moment Izuku is on the fence about it.
His confusion dissipates when Yagi begins to whisk around the trembling body of the fake, entirely helpless.
Panics floods him. No. No, no. He didn't kill him, did he? He didn't kill that little boy.
This isn't real, so it shouldn't matter, but it does now that All Might has gone and seen it. Izuku's lungs feel full, and every breath is like shards of glass going down his bronchial tubes. Is this what it felt like? Izuku has been drowned before, and it felt something like this, but he never imagined it would actually feel real to a fake.
Izuku is on his knees, blood frozen in his body, horror making a home in his gut. He reaches forward, attempting to unkill himself, but he never finished what he started in the first place.
The fake coughs, sputtering to life, and Izuku's chest loosens. Yagi helps the boy to his feet and leads him away, leaving Izuku behind with only a singular dead-eyed glance in his direction. Fear replaces Izuku's uncertainty, bringing with it guilt. Why is Yagi looking at him now? Why is he caring for that fake when the real Izuku is right here, looking through actual eyes? Izuku doesn't get it.
Why would Yagi care about some false extension of Izuku? Sure, this Yagi is just as fake as that Izuku, but it still hurts. Why would any version of Yagi act this way?
"He seemed angry."
The flowers around him extend, wrapping around his limbs and poking through his bones with polite thorns. He doesn't feel it—he continues to stare at All Might's retreating back, trying to reconcile with what just happened.
His father's presence is enough to make the vines tighten nearly enough to shatter his bones. The figure is behind him somewhere, but Izuku doesn't see him, nor does he bother searching.
I didn't mean to do it, he wants to say, but he knows that's not quite right. And even then, his master has long since disappeared into the fields with the other Izuku, not keen on listening to excuses. And could Izuku blame him for that?
A cold hand lands on his back. "Why do they always look at you that way?" All for One whispers, the soft words breathed into his ears.
And the boy can say nothing in response.
He doesn't do it on purpose, but he avoids Yagi in the days following the dream.
He is grounded again due to the cannabis incident, so he's been a little restless. He hasn't been able to contact Hawks yet about his official response to the Commission, and time is ticking. Shouta understands this, but he's standing his ground and refusing to let Izuku go out on patrol until his punishment is up.
Which Izuku knows is more than fair, especially considering his situation.
So, he is using this time to prepare his body. The third year gyms have amazing holographic simulations to keep his skills sharp. He's messed with the programming to ensure his opponents are higher levels and represent the things Izuku struggles the most with.
On top of that, Izuku is determined to never let his quirks go. He fears being put in suppressant cuffs again or, even worse, being injected. If the access to his quirks is gone, he won't be able to help the way he needs to. He needs to be able to continue functioning even in the circumstance that he's been hit with a suppressant dart.
And the only way to ensure that is to expose himself to it.
It's a scary thing, really. Voluntarily putting himself in that position. At any moment, he could need his quirks. But he knows he has to do this sometime, and he's at UA currently, so this is as safe as he can be for a while.
He kneels on the mats in the middle of the largest gym at UA, eyes closed and fingers curled around the chains bolting his wrists to the walls. A spring is released, and he feels the first injection make its way into his skin, quickly entering his bloodstream. It's cold, and it numbs his insides as it blocks all of his quirk factors. He shivers, already panicking, but forces himself to breathe slowly in order to concentrate.
Even without Boost or One for All, his body will continue to metabolize quickly, as that's the way he's been conditioned. If he focuses his bodily energy solely into burning through the suppressants, he can decrease the total amount of time in which he's under its effects.
Once he's gotten it down to just a few short seconds, he can up the dosage, which will gradually make him stronger and stronger.
His experiments, however, don't come without consequence. The specific brand of suppressants he's using has nasty side effects, and they're even worse on someone like Izuku—someone with multiple emitter type quirks. Chills wrack his entire body, and he becomes dizzy enough that he doesn't even feel the floor pressing against his knees. He's floating away in all ways but physical, and the chains dig into his skin to keep him on the floor.
Focus. Come on, get a grip. Just breathe.
Nausea overtakes him, and he presses his lips shut when another spring releases and sends the next dose into his bloodstream.
God, he's gonna fucking throw up.
The walls of the gym are bearing down on him, suffocating him. His skin is too tight over his body, almost like an airtight bag keeping an expandable mattress at bay.
It's only when the fifth injection hits that he feels it—the warm drip of blood down his nose, seeping into the corners of his mouth and dripping onto the mats beneath him. He can't breathe easily now, but he's going to continue on until his body drops.
He needs to get his endurance and strength up if he wants to have any hope of winning a fight against people armed to the teeth with quirk suppressants. Because he has a feeling someone like the heir to the Yakuza would have that.
His limbs begin to jerk periodically on their own accord, and Izuku blinks in confusion when the next injection never comes.
"Why aren't you working?" Izuku whispers to himself, slurring just a little. Annoyance springs up inside him, as he thought he fixed up the program. "Didn't I just—"
The chains release him, and Izuku yelps when he drops to his hands and knees. He shakes his head and sees familiar large sneakers in front of him, answering his question.
"You said you were finished with this today," All Might says disapprovingly, and somehow seeing him in his big form right now just makes Izuku more defensive.
He takes a few moments to recuperate before standing up, still wobbly. He wipes his hands on his shirt before turning away from his teacher. "I wanted to keep going for a little longer."
"You're supposed to be training with me in the other gym right now."
"I got distracted."
"You forgot?" Yagi asks, voice level. "Again?"
Izuku lifts a shoulder. "Yeah." Yagi stares for a minute or two, just watching as Izuku wipes off his sweat and lines up his next round of doses. The silence quickly becomes too much for Izuku, who clears his throat and adds rather lamely, "We might have to reschedule again, if that's okay."
The blond crosses his arms. "My boy, you do remember that at the beginning of the school year, you asked for these training days, don't you? As I recall, you begged me for them."
This makes Izuku slow in his work. He rewraps the bandages on his fists, not looking at his teacher. "I remember."
"So, you don't want to train anymore?"
Izuku frowns. "All Might, I'm training right now. Of course I want to."
"Let me rephrase, then: you don't want to train with me anymore."
Izuku hesitates, and that's enough of an answer for All Might. He deflates in one whoosh, hurt spreading through the air even when he tries to hide it on his face.
"Young Midoriya," he begins, and Izuku hates how his voice echoes around the empty gym. "I'm not nearly as dense as some tend to think. It is rather clear to me that you... that you're uncomfortable whenever you're around me now." All Might scratches at the back of his head. "I don't know exactly why that is, but I'm certain it has to do with recent events. And... things... that you and the others haven't told me. But, kid... you need to work with me a little. You need to meet me halfway or this—this will be difficult."
"I'm trying," Izuku states quietly, tongue feeling like sandpaper.
Yagi sighs. "Why do you feel the need to overwork your body like this? You're going to land back in the nurse's wing if you keep this up." He walks over and plucks the vial of clear liquid off the table Izuku's been using. "I'm assuming you were given permission to use this, but even still I'm going to ask you to stop for today."
Having expected this, Izuku nods curtly and turns to the row of projectors on the wall in the simulation area. If he can't work on his body's resistance to quirk suppressants, he will work on more physical aspects. He needs to toughen up his skin even further and ensure he's not going to split apart from a heavy hit—
"That means stopping everything."
Izuku stops dead, fighting back his irritation. He doesn't want to be in Yagi's presence right now. "What am I supposed to do right now if I can't practice?"
"Rest," Yagi says as if it's the most obvious thing in the world.
"I was asleep for two days straight."
"You were passed out from exhaustion for most of that time," he points out, "I'd hardly call that a healthy sleep."
Izuku refrains from telling him that it was actually the most peaceful sleep he's ever had. "You rarely rest," Izuku tries instead.
"I've gotten better these days, and this isn't about me, young man," Yagi chides. "This is about you and not listening. It's dangerous to keep this kind of behavior up."
"Why do they always look at you that way?"
Izuku bores holes into the floor, shutting out the traitorous voice. "Okay. Yeah. I'll—I'll rest."
Before he can actually explode, Izuku picks up his belongings and walks past Yagi to the exit, heart pounding inside his chest. He wants to argue more, but he knows his master is stubborn and will certainly win. Besides, he is a little tired. He wants a jelly pack from that broken vending machine.
When Izuku reaches the handle, though, Yagi calls out to him.
"I have to leave for a few days."
The Earth freezes on its axis, stopping its rotation. Izuku's heart stops along with it. "What?"
"I was informed this morning," he explains in what Izuku can only describe as a somber tone. "A few countries have requested aid. And quickly. They've had an... outbreak, I'm afraid."
"Of what? Supervillains?"
"Nomu."
Izuku isn't sure he's heard him correctly at first. Is he still dreaming? He must be, because this isn't right. That doesn't make sense. The Nomu appear and exist in Japan because they're made here and are shipped around the island as experiments. It's not possible for a Nomu to be outside of Japan unless All for One himself has moved with the doctor! And in multiple different countries, too?
That can only mean one thing.
Izuku swallows and turns around fast, hand clenching his shirt. His bad arm is tingling again, sending pricks throughout his body. "Are they sure they're Nomu?"
"I've seen the footage myself. The few they were able to kill were tested; they have a similar genetic makeup to the ones here."
The boy moves closer, steps light and fast. "But why haven't I seen it in the news? And—and why haven't I been told? If there were Nomu outside of Japan, I would've been told by my clients at the—"
"Think for a moment, my boy," Yagi says gravely, jaw set. "If word gets out that hero-killing monsters from Japan made it to other nations and started spreading like a plague—what do you think would happen to society?"
Society would descend into a worldwide panic.
Izuku clenches his shirt tighter. Of course his clients don't have their hands on the information yet—this probably just happened, and it's trying to be kept as quiet as possible. "I... How long will it take?"
"I'm scheduled to be gone for a week, but don't worry too much, Young Midoriya." He tries to give a wide, reassuring smile, but it only seems flat. "I can get it done in half that time if I work fast, and I always do."
"You shouldn't be going."
"It's my duty to help. You know that as well as I do."
Izuku shakes his head. "Why can't someone else go? Why does it have to be you?"
"None of the other countries in the council are willing to send out their heroes."
"Okay, but if they need you specifically for your speed and power, which is what I'm assuming, why can't someone like Endeavor go instead? You—you need to stay here. What if something happens to Japan while you're gone?"
"In the event something happens, I will be on my way back no matter what the situation looks like where I am," Yagi soothes. "That's always been the protocol."
"That still doesn't explain why it can't be Endeavor or some other S or A rank pro instead of—"
Yagi sighs. "These new Nomu seem to be based on water quirks. Their elements put Endeavor and the others at a major disadvantage already."
"That's discrediting him. He's fought water villains before with no problem—"
"No, Midoriya. Most of them are made out of some kind of reinforced gelatinous liquid, meaning they have a higher resistance to heat. Which also means Endeavor would be fighting quirkless against them, at least offensively. He has the strength to beat them, sure, but it puts him at major risk if another villain decides to get the jump on him when he can't access his flames. And in a foreign country with no backup, it could spell out a disaster for him and everyone else." Yagi shakes his head to match Izuku, blond strands falling in his face. "Hawks can't pierce their outer layers with even his sharpest feathers, and neither can Best Jeanist with his threads. Mirko and Edgeshot are on patrol duty for Nomu within our borders, so they can't go. Every other lower-ranked hero is busy or unsuitable for the job. It has to be me this time, kid. It'll be fine, I promise you. It won't take long—that's exactly why I'm going."
Izuku sours, glancing to the side and being unable to help his biting sarcasm. "What about Wash? Seems like his quirk would work perfectly in this situation."
Yagi's patience runs thin. "Young man, what are you so afraid of right now?"
Izuku's hand aches when he looks at him. "I know you see it. It's—it's a trap. It's gotta be. You—you're being lured." Hands tear through green and white curls. "It's all too sudden, too convenient. You can't tell me you don't see how weird it is, sir. I mean, you're supposed to be the face of the Nomu extinction team here, not in other countries. And, what, the Nomu are all made specifically so that no one but you can defeat them in some other nation thousands of miles away? Come on..."
"If it's a trap, which it very well may be, that's all the more reason for me to go in the place of someone else. I can handle it," he says forcefully.
Izuku can't hear any of this anymore. He squeezes his numb arm, trying to get his blood flowing again. Is this All for One's plan? Is he using other countries with lower level pros to bait the Symbol of Peace into leaving Japan unprotected? Or is he simply trying to lure All Might to a place where he can be put down for good?
Izuku isn't sure which is worse.
"What about the United States?" He asks as a last resort. "They're always putting a foot in someone else's territory, so why aren't they helping now?"
"They've sent some aid in the form of supplies, but their heroes were never cleared to fly over."
"You see how fucking weird that is, right?"
"Mind your words," Yagi says defeatedly. "And of course I do, young man. But I don't exactly have much of a choice. There are civilian lives on the line—if I don't go, many more will die. As a hero, as a holder of our shared power, it is my duty to save."
"What about the civilians who will die here?"
Yagi's steel-blue eyes are dim, and it's the look on his face that makes Izuku realize just how selfish he sounded then. "This is unlike you, Midoriya."
"No, I'm—I'm just—" Izuku grits his teeth, nails digging into tingling flesh, longing to feel something, anything. "Forget it. You're right. You've done this kind of thing a lot of times before, so it's fine. It's, it's..."
"I don't want to go anymore than you want me to," All Might says, and he leans down to speak to him in a softer tone. "But I have to. And I'll be back before you even notice. You've been avoiding me for a few days now anyway, so this shouldn't be much of a stressor."
The last words aren't meant to be angry, but Izuku takes it that way. He is overtaken by the terrifying thought of All for One reaching the next stage in his plan, whatever that may be now. The reasonable course of action before attacking is to take All Might out of the equation, even if it's only temporary, so who's to say this isn't a trap? And why is Yagi going despite knowing this?
Is he trying to get Izuku to tell him something more about his past so that he won't go? What could he even say?
Yagi, my father will surely kill me if you leave this country like he wants you to. Yagi, this quirk will die with me because I will not give it to him for anything, but please don't leave me yet because I don't want this to be over. Yagi, I don't mean to hate you. Yagi, it's just that my mother's trust issues have been leaking inside my chest like a faucet over the course of my entire life, so I really am sorry for not listening to you as much anymore. Yagi, I swear I would be a better successor if I could.
"But what if he comes back?" Izuku murmurs.
All Might's face tightens at the indirect mention of his fated rival, but he steps forward anyway to kneel in front of Izuku. "We are connected by something far greater than blood, you know. If there is trouble of that kind, I have faith I would know so immediately, and I would be there to help before anything happens."
"You don't believe that."
"I want to believe," Yagi sighs. "Because I have no choice."
"Wanting doesn't make it true."
The number one hero looks away, closing his tired eyes. When he stands, he's the one heading for the door this time. "I'll return in a few days. Please don't make trouble for your other teachers."
Izuku stares after him, lost in deja vu. He doesn't know why he was expecting a head pat or even a hug before the man left—when has he given the impression recently that he's wanted that from him?
And it's probably nothing, but the absence of contact between them feels like another lifetime of loneliness to Izuku.
"So, what's with you and blondie?"
Hizashi types away on his computer and acts as if he's not eavesdropping, thankful that his colored glasses hide the direction of his eyesight.
Izuku jerks at the question, craning his neck to stare at Nemuri from his place on top of a filing cabinet. "Huh?"
"Oh, please, it's so obvious that something happened. I could see the angsty glow of heartbreak written all over you two's faces during class," she says offhandedly, working through her flood of emails. "So what is it, kid? Bad romance? Petty arguments? Differences in morals? I've seen it all, don't be shy."
Izuku blushes deeply and rubs his neck. "Oh, Kacchan and I are fine, really. We just, uh, kinda argue a little sometimes. But you know we're not actually, like, together or anything like—"
"Well, what were you arguing about? That's the question I need to ask to know for sure if there's anything going on between you two."
Hizashi pauses in his work, eyes flicking over to see Izuku's reaction. It's definitely an uncomfortable and rather unprofessional question on Nemuri's end, so Hizashi wants to make sure she's not pushing too far—even though he would admittedly like to hear the answer to this as well. Izuku isn't just his student anymore, so he contends he's well within his right to know about this sort of stuff if the listener allows it... though probably not when they're in a work or school environment.
Izuku rests the side of his head against the wall. "I don't even know," he says with a sigh, and Jesus, for a moment there he sounded just like Shouta during one of his and Hizashi's own arguments.
"So it's petty stuff?" Nemuri affirms, swirling in her chair to face the boy.
"Yeah."
Long, acrylic nails tap on the desk. "Well, can't say that's surprising. Who started it?"
Izuku hesitates, his mood depleting exponentially. "I guess I did."
"Huh. Well, I think what's more important now is knowing how it ended and why—if ya figure that out, you'll be able to move forward more easily."
Hizashi feels a bout of awkwardness coming from Izuku then and intervenes before things can go further downhill. "Why don't we talk about somethin' else?" He says without looking at either of them, keeping his focus on his screen.
"Oh, shut it," Nemuri says, waving his words away with a flourish of her hand. "I'm just trying to help the kid. Don't act like you don't do the same thing, Mic."
Hizashi sticks out his tongue, flashing his piercing only briefly. "And don't act like you're not supposed to be in a meeting right now."
The woman rolls her eyes and turns her back to him, continuing her conversation with Izuku. At this point, Hizashi can't be too upset.
"Sometimes," Izuku begins cautiously, as if treading on a field full of mines, "I think he doesn't actually want to move forward with things, ya know?"
Nemuri is quiet for a moment before saying, flippantly, "Maybe that's what he thinks about you."
And then Hizashi is transported somewhere far away, back to a time when he was just barely eighteen and didn't know how many years he'd be allowed to love freely for.
The memory of his graduation is fresh in his mind, pulling at the corners of his vision as he catches up to his best friend's dark form. It's nearly midnight, but Hizashi won't give up like this.
"I'm still here, dammit!" He yells out. His voice cracks terribly as the words shoot out into the otherwise empty park. "Just like I've always been!"
Shouta, to his credit, pauses. His head is tucked down, hands stuffed inside his pockets. The first bits of winter make their way down from black clouds, clinging to his long black strands. The snow has always made Hizashi feel cozy and welcome somehow, but tonight is an exception.
He's trembling without a jacket on, his skin prickling with goosebumps. His voice never works too well in the chill like this either.
Hizashi huffs, clutching his chest when it twinges painfully. "Where will you go now, huh?"
"I already told you," Shouta says, voice carried to Hizashi by fresh snowflakes in the wind.
"So, what? You'll just be a—a hired mercenary for the government for the rest of your life? Is that what we were training for?"
"It's what I'm good at. Don't act surprised when I've been working towards this for the past year, Mic."
The words hurt. The nickname, usually so easy and soft when it rolls off of Shouta's tongue, is biting. Why won't you say my name? Hizashi thinks to himself desperately. Why can't you look at me anymore?
"What about our agency!" Hizashi snaps, and the building snow makes way for him as he dares to take a step forward. "What about our goals? Our dream!"
Shouta turns then, but only halfway. His head lifts a little towards the sky, revealing red eyes always in need of drops, even more so in this cold. The white light of the lamppost above falls on his skin, casting shadows over his jaw, and God, he's so irritatingly pretty here. To Hizashi, he's always looked so perfect, but he could never say so aloud.
What he would give to be able to say it now without any retribution.
"What about it?" Shouta asks, uncaring and harsh, like he hasn't thought about it for months when Hizashi knows in the very core of his being that his best friend has actually thought about it every day—just like he has. It's not a dream anymore—more of a plague, a nightmare, but it's something they share still. And that has to mean something, anything to Shouta, surely.
Hizashi can't help but scoff, but it's sad more than it is angry. "You'd leave us all behind?" He shakes his head. "You can't tell me that's what you really want. You still want to try! I know it. We can still do it, Shouta. We can still try."
"Don't you remember what our trying did to the other half of our agency?"
Hizashi's lips part, his overgrown mohawk whipping around when the wind picks up. Oboro's memory is held in a cracked vase in his mind with hastily wrapped tape all around it, keeping it together. And Shouta's ignorance is the thing that unravels it all.
Our other half, he said, because Hizashi could never measure up equally to Oboro in Shouta's eyes, could he? Even now, he doesn't see Hizashi as being an equal part like he did Oboro. Even now, after they've both graduated and have become full pros with the opportunity to start something up, something of their very own, something to call theirs—Shouta is still slightly turned away from him, eyes focused somewhere in the distance. Not looking at him, not seeing him.
Hizashi clenches his fists. He shivers, the iciness of the falling snow clashing with the newfound heat of his skin. Why won't you see me? He wants to shout again, because it's true that Shouta loved Oboro first, but Hizashi has loved Shouta forever.
Hizashi and Oboro were friends before meeting Shouta, sure, but that never mattered too much to Hizashi, because to him it always felt like he's known Shouta since the very beginning.
"Move on!" Hizashi shouts, throat burning from the ache of using his quirk. Shouta's hair lifts up as he erases it for him, surely by instinct now. "Dammit, Shouta, please. Move on!"
He takes another step with a burning passion within him now, foot sinking into the snow.
"I miss him, alright? Just as much as you do! I—I know it hurts, God, I know! But we—we've still got each other, Sho. And Nem, and Sensei, and our classmates, and our parents!" Each breath is a puff of white. "You can keep leanin' on me, Shouta. I'm not going anywhere. I promise you. I'm not leaving. So stop pushin' me away!"
Shouta is deathly silent. He crosses the distance between them, stopping when Hizashi can feel his warmth just standing there before him. Slowly, and with great care, Shouta takes off his red scarf, pulling it out from beneath his capture weapon, and presses it against Hizashi's chest. "You're the one who won't move on," he says simply but with an underlying intensity that has Hizashi staring with shining emerald eyes. "Our dream is dead, Mic. We have no agency. And we never will."
He steps back and sighs a little, something like regret ghosting his features—features that Hizashi has recreated with charcoal and an empty canvas in the late hours of the night many, many times over.
"I'm sorry," Shouta finishes, "but that's just not the sort of thing that's meant for us."
"But it could be," Hizashi whispers, teeth gritted now. "We could make it if we wanted it badly enough, and you know it."
"Good night, Hizashi."
The memory is poison to Hizashi, and he has to shake himself to get back to his work.
Their relationship is much better now, thankfully, as they found each other again a couple of years later and were able to build things back up, slowly but surely. Shouta matured, and so did Hizash, and they soon found a balance, as rickety as the bridge is, and it's worked for nearly a decade now. But that sort of thing is rare in these circumstances, Hizashi knows.
He hates to think that Izuku and Bakugou might not be able to find that reconnection like he and Shouta did. He swallows hard and turns to look at Izuku, about to give some abrupt, wise advice that would make his parents proud—only to find that the boy is gone and Nemuri is packing up her things for the day.
Hizashi sighs to himself and continues his work, deciding to bring the topic back up at a later time.
Kacchan doesn't touch him after their fight.
When walking past each other in the crowded halls, Kacchan will move to the side to avoid brushing shoulders with Izuku. He won't outright tell him to go away, but when Izuku finds himself beside him on the way to lunch, Kacchan will abruptly turn away—even at the slightest touch of Izuku's fingers against his hand.
And during class, when Kacchan passes a stack of papers behind him to Izuku, he won't wait for Izuku to grab them. He drops them unceremoniously onto his desk, and sometimes Izuku has to rush to grab them so they won't flutter right off the surface of it.
But worst of all, Kacchan is quiet when Izuku is around.
Izuku, as weird as it is, wants the irritation and the anger and the rolling of Kacchan's eyes if only that meant he would fucking look at him or speak to him. But Kacchan does neither of those things anymore.
He won't speak to Izuku, and he won't text him. One night, Izuku has his shaking thumb hovering over the send button on his phone as he reads over the message he wants to send to his best friend. He's been mulling over it for an hour now, and it's not even that long: can we talk after school? i can come over
But he doesn't end up sending it, as his nerves are way too high. So, he backspaces it all.
hey, im sorry for how i acted. sensei said we could go out to eat after school to talk if you're up for it.
He needs to add something to make it sound more personal: I want to talk
That's even worse, though, he feels.
hey, we need to talk
That's too demanding.
want to talk?
Now it just sounds like Izuku doesn't care about it.
I'm sorry I yelled. Can I call?
Izuku scraps it and shoves his face into a pillow, giving up on it entirely. Kacchan would talk to him if he wanted to, so he shouldn't force it. He would just make him even more mad. He debates going to Shouta or Hizashi for help, but he pushes that idea away just as quickly as it came.
For now, he suffers through the silence and the absence of Kacchan's touch against his skin, and he hopes he'll have more courage tomorrow.
Izuku holds eye contact for four and a half seconds at a time. Then he has to look away, head tipping to the side to show he's still listening but also thinking now.
It's the average time he's deduced is the normal for most people. Staring for any shorter makes him look flighty or guilty, and staring for longer makes him creepy. So, when Hound Dog speaks, Izuku listens. He maintains eye contact for the appropriate time and will glance away for a previously decided amount of seconds using a rotational method—two seconds, five seconds, two seconds, three seconds, four seconds, and back to the first iteration. That's how long he looks away for.
It's practiced yet just sporadic enough to make it look not robotic. Izuku wonders if Hound Dog can tell, though. He thinks he'd say so if he did, as the counselor has been very vocal about those kinds of observations recently.
He's been given homework by Hound Dog in the past week or so. Every time he thinks of something that makes him feel upset in the middle of feeling alright, he has to write it down somewhere and bring it to his next session to discuss it.
When he first pitched the idea to Izuku, the boy kind of laughed and said they'd never be able to get through it all in one session—mostly because not even Izuku knows why he suddenly feels down sometimes.
Hound Dog didn't think that was funny, though.
When it's around time for Izuku to present a topic from his homework, he breathes in deep like Hound Dog suggested and holds the cat plushie sitting on the cushion next to him. "I used to have more quirks than I do now," he says simply.
"What happened to them?" Hound Dog asks.
"He took them away."
"Why is that?"
Izuku thinks for a moment. There's a lot of different reasons why, but he'll settle for the one that's the most common. "I used to try to hurt him with them."
Hound Dog's whiskers twitch in what Izuku has come to realize is concentration. "Can you describe one of those times to me?"
Well. Izuku shifts uncomfortably. This is probably the fourth real session he's had with Hound Dog. The past couple of weeks have been going slowly, as if in a haze. Izuku is still grounded due to the Nezu incident and the cannabis, so he has no excuse to not attend the scheduled sessions. One good thing about them, maybe, is that he's not scared of talking about certain things anymore. He's seen Tsukauchi twice since that first time in the nurse's room, too.
All around, none of this feels... solid.
"I was never strong enough to physically hurt him," Izuku explains. "So, when I was angry enough, I just..." The four seconds on the rotation turn to ten before he knows it. "I hurt myself instead."
Hound Dog's expression doesn't change. His emotions are slightly cold but bubbly, like the end of a waterfall. "And you did this because you thought he would care then?"
Izuku nods. "I mean, if I hurt myself badly enough, I wouldn't be able to train or do what he wanted me to, so it would put me out of commission for a bit."
"And did you think that's the only reason he would care?"
Izuku is quiet again. "Sometimes I used to think he didn't want to see me hurt. But then he'd do something to me and... I guess we'd be back to square one."
"I see." His eyes grow a little more narrow when his brows furrow. He's not writing anything down right now, probably because he knows it distracts Izuku greatly. "Would you be able to tell me how you hurt yourself?"
Two seconds pass, and Izuku hasn't looked at him yet. "It's like I told you. I used those quirks."
"Would you like to change our topic?" Hound Dog checks suddenly.
"I think it's okay for now," Izuku says, as he knows why Hound Dog asked that. His next question is likely going to be about wanting to know a specific instance—he's asked for details a lot of times now. So, Izuku doesn't give him the chance to even say it aloud. He just wants this out of his system because he feels that if he doesn't say it now, he may never be able to admit it to someone else again. "I had a quirk when I was ten that I don't have now. I called it Leveling. Did you see it in my notebook?"
"I haven't read your notebook, pup."
This makes warmth settle over Izuku even though he isn't sure how much he believes that. He plays with the plushie in his hands and taps his foot. "It allowed me to increase gravity on myself. To the point where I would be pressed against the ground—or any surface I was on. It was pretty strong. I could never learn how to break away."
"Sounds useful," Hound Dog notes.
"It was. That's why he gave it to me. It was a way to ensure someone with a zero-gravity quirk wouldn't be able to put me off balance, y'know? He was always thinking ahead." Izuku breathes in once and lets it out slowly. "My father was gone for the week. So was Kurogiri. Um, like, a year before, I had taken a pill from the doctor he was acquainted with. I thought it would come in handy eventually, and it did that day, I think."
"What did the pill do?"
"It forced your quirk to activate at high levels for several minutes. Sort of like Force, but, well, with it lasting longer."
"That can be dangerous."
"I know."
"And that's why you thought it would be handy?"
"It's how I wanted to hurt him."
Hound Dog leans back a little bit in his chair. It creaks a little, making his ear flick. Izuku waits until the rotation has reset itself before continuing on.
"When I was sure they wouldn't be back, I... went into the lab the doctor rarely used anymore. Filled up the tank he would put me in sometimes, and I laid in it. I let the fluids fill up over my head." Izuku stares into the beady eyes of the toy cat, remembering the day as clearly as if it just happened. And with the way his dreams have been going, maybe it did. "I took the pill then. And I regretted it."
The liquid in the tank was cold at first. A bone chilling kind of cold that had Izuku spasming, and not just because of the way his quirks were forced to activate. But then it turned hot, and it was so blue that for a moment it looked like the dark sky to Izuku. He was mashed against the bottom of the glass, air leaving him as the heat boiled him from the inside out. He couldn't even lift his hands or feet to kick himself free.
He was stuck to the bottom like glue, staring up into nothingness. As the bubbles raced each other to the surface, his mind was flooded with thoughts of his mother and Kacchan.
Hound Dog is studying him now, not an ounce of judgment in his voice. "How did you break away?" He asks softly.
"I didn't. Tomura found me. He wasn't strong enough to pull me up either, so he had to turn the glass to ash to get rid of all the fluids."
"And how did he react?"
This is the question that trips Izuku up. He chews on his bottom lip, eyes flitting back and forth from Hound Dog's fuzzy face. "Oh, he was angry . Angrier than I'd ever seen him. He had to beat me to get some of the fluids out of my lungs. I don't really know what he was saying, as I was still out of it, but he was yelling at me. And he told Father when he got back." Izuku lets out a small breath. "And that's when he took the quirk away from me and put me back in that room."
Hound Dog nods and writes a note down on his paper. Izuku watches him write, wanting to ask what exactly he's writing down but knowing he likely wouldn't get a good response.
"Why did you choose that method?" The counselor asks, back to looking at him. "You say you wanted to hurt him, but I feel that there would be less... dire ways of doing that."
I wanted it to hurt me, too, he thinks, but doesn't say. He lifts a shoulder. "I... I feel them all over me. The past users of the quirks I have. I feel them on me, in me, just—just under my skin. I'm used to it now, but when I was younger it felt worse. And I would scrub and scrub and scrub in the shower. I'd try to dig out that feeling. The... the dirtiness." Another half-hearted shrug. "But it never went away. I always felt unclean. So, I thought that if I tried to drown myself, it would tell him just how much I hated it. How much I despised him for doing everything he did. And, at the same time, it would cleanse my body."
"So you could die clean?"
Izuku nods. "I guess."
"Our first session, you told me you've never tried to kill yourself. Do you not consider this an attempt?" He asks carefully.
"No," Izuku says honestly. "I didn't feel like myself back then. I think... that that was the worst I've ever felt. So, no, it wasn't really me I was trying to kill, if that makes sense. I just wanted to piss him off and hurt him, like I said. I don't think I really did it to—to escape or anything. If I wanted that, I could've just snapped my own neck or thrown myself back into the basement with the Nomu, right?" He looks to the floor. "Sometimes I wonder why I never did."
Hound Dog rumbles. "Perhaps there was something you wanted before you left."
Maybe there was.
"Would you ever do something like that again?" Hound Dog asks, and Izuku isn't surprised. He has to ask these questions.
"No."
"If you had the chance to redo it, would you still take that pill?"
Knowing that it would just strain things between my crumbling family even more? Izuku shakes his head.
"What about if you found yourself in a similar situation today?"
"I have One for All, and I haven't kept my promise to my mother, so I can't leave."
"Those are good reasons," Hound Dog appeases. "But, right now, let's try to think of all the other things you want to do—things unrelated to your family or quirks. Places you want to visit, things you want to achieve or have, things you'd like to say. How about that?"
"I'm not going to kill myself."
Hound Dog only flashes him a small smile at his bitter tone. "It's still beneficial to always have a list of things to work towards, even after you've made good on your promises."
In the short silence that follows, he thinks of Kacchan again, of his hand jerking away from him in the halls, and of the emptiness that stretches between them during class.
And Izuku agrees with Hound Dog, because maybe he needs this.
At midnight on the day Izuku's grounding is up, the boy finds himself in the doorway of Shouta and Hizashi's office at the apartment.
Hizashi is asleep, but Shouta is awake working overtime, catching up on cases given to him by his agency. There's a singular yellow light in the corner of the room, outlining Shouta's hunched over frame. The boy stares at him for a few seconds, building up his nerves, before walking inside.
"Sensei?"
Shouta doesn't look at him yet. "Why aren't you asleep?"
"Because it's Saturday now."
"What does that have to—" Shouta pauses, head lifting to the calendar on the wall. The realization dawns on him a moment later, as he glances back at Izuku with an eyebrow raised. "You think I'm going to let you patrol tonight now that you're not grounded?"
"I mean, I was hoping so."
"Where's that apology essay I assigned you?"
Izuku takes out his folded up stack of papers, smoothing out the wrinkles before handing it over for Shouta to quickly scan. "Single spaced, eleven point font, and eighteen pages, not including the cover or works cited."
Shouta nods appreciatively. "If I were to grade this how I normally do for classwork, what do you think I'd give you?"
Izuku mulls over this, shifting on his feet. "Ninety-eight."
"Why?"
"The structure could be a little better."
Tipping his head and leaning back, Shouta hands the essay to him. "So, make it a one hundred."
Taking a red pen off the desk, Izuku brings Hizashi's chair up to the side of Shouta's desk and quickly gets to work, face set in a small scowl. It's a good thing he only recently finished this essay. All of the evidence he used and the details he included are fresh in his mind now, which allows him to easily circle quotes and some of his arguments and move them to where he thinks would be a more appropriate location.
Knowing where to place evidence in an essay is key to making your case look strong.
After a few minutes, Izuku is finished. He sets the pen down and waits impatiently for Shouta to look up at him from his work.
"One hundred," he affirms, knee bouncing up and down.
"You better hope it is," Shouta warns before sliding the essay under the stack of papers he's currently looking at. "For now, you better head out, because I'm only giving you until three o'clock. If your ass isn't inside this house and in bed by then, you can kiss Rabbit goodbye for the unforeseeable future, understood?"
Izuku, unperturbed by the threat, jolts to his feet and quickly pushes Hizashi's chair back where it belongs. "Yes, sir! Thank you!" He bows quickly, hoping Shouta can feel his gratitude. "My panic button is on, too! I won't turn it off."
"I know you won't. And don't forget to text me every hour so I know you're—"
Izuku is already out of the door, rushing to put his costume on and slinging his supplies over his shoulder. If he has less than three hours to get his important things done, he can't waste a second. First he's going to patrol in the far corner of the city since the crime rate has spiked there in the past week, and then he's going to head for the Club. He has managerial business to take care of that he can't do over the phone.
He can't say he didn't expect this. He knew that taking on the role as head of the Club in this prefecture would be hard, but to be fair he also didn't expect shit to hit the fan so badly in his personal life at around the same time as his promotion. He feels bad that he's been slacking, but Kaida told him that he's already done way more for the Club and its members in the short few weeks he's been the head than any other past head has in their entire tenure.
So maybe Izuku is just being a little harsh on himself.
Regardless, it does feel weird when he walks quickly inside the new location and heads for the office area. The few members who notice him smile grimly and put reassuring hands on his shoulders as he passes, while others only stare and nod in his direction. There's a sense of camaraderie in the Club, for sure, and Izuku is only reminded of this even more now.
While many don't support the Board's decision of naming him the head, as he's far too young and, compared to some others, inexperienced, Izuku knows a large majority of the Club would still lay down their life for him without hesitation if he asked.
Not that he would ever want them to, of course, but the point remains.
He's not used to so much profound respect radiating off of his club mates, but he finds he isn't too uncomfortable because of it.
After meeting with some representatives from other districts and forming a more united effort into planning a defense force against the Nomu and other rising villains, Izuku decides to head to one last place.
If he wants to be able to launch a more offensive investigation into the Yakuza regarding their continued use of a young girl in making unidentified drugs, Izuku needs the support of the Commission. They undoubtedly have the most supplies, the most resources, and the most public control when it comes to other heroes.
Izuku can admit he's strong, but he's also not dumb enough to think he'd be able to take on the fucking Yakuza by himself. Besides, doing that would wage war against all of the Club, so he needs to make sure that this won't be seen as just a Club effort.
He needs pro heroes to aid him, and he needs to form a team. Doing so is much harder than it sounds, though. This is why Izuku needs the Commission— they can lend Izuku those supplies, as in, heroes, in return for him accepting their proposal.
There's only one issue, however. Izuku still needs one well-known and well-respected hero to sign for him on the contract. And with All Might still out of the country, it can't be him—though Izuku wouldn't have wanted to ask that of him anyway after everything that's recently come to light about Izuku.
And Izuku only knows one other pro who would have around the same sway in the public.
The Todoroki household is probably one of the safest estates Izuku has ever broken into.
There are, in total, one hundred and seventy four security cameras, each equipped with motion-sensors, infrared vision, night vision, and thermal vision. Along with those, there are around three hundred areas of motion-activated alarms—some silent and some not. Bright lights also come on and put you on the spot if even the slightest noise is detected.
Hell, even an Endeavor patrol walks the perimeter of the estate and the surrounding neighborhood all day and night.
Izuku won't lie—he's thoroughly impressed. It's all to protect his family, Izuku is sure. Though it's ironic, considering everything he's done in the past.
He knew Endeavor's house would be well-protected, but he did admittedly underestimate just how safe it would be. So, his plans are set back by twenty minutes, as he struggles a little to gain access to the private server the security cameras use. It also annoys him that a lot of the cameras are wired and monitored from a physical place on the grounds, so he isn't able to mess up the feeds from his phone. He's forced to shoot sticky, energized arrows onto them to force them to short circuit and turn off.
This also means he has to force the people monitoring the cameras to fall asleep with his homemade Midnight-themed bombs.
And so, it takes him a while to actually make his way all the way inside undetected.
He has less time to prepare for Endeavor's arrival now, but he'll have to deal with it. Endeavor's shift tonight ends at one-fifty, and he normally makes it home within ten minutes depending on if he uses his quirk or stops for late dinner.
Tonight, though, Izuku is certain he'll make his way home immediately afterwards.
He stands in the shadows of the large living room, leaning against the wall at such an angle that not even the wind from the air conditioner could blow weirdly past him and give away his position. There is only one person home at this time, and that's Todoroki. His older brother and sister are gone for the night, with Todoroki Natsuo at his college dorms and Todoroki Fuyumi staying at her friend's apartment.
Izuku made sure he was careful. He's been watching them via drones and his clients at the Club for two weeks now, which is just long enough to know their patterns.
And also long enough to know what time Todoroki Enji returns from his late night patrols. So, when Izuku still doesn't feel Endeavor getting close to his house, he begins to get confused. There are a few probable reasons for the delay, all of which—
The locks click, and the heavy door opens from the outside.
Izuku's eyebrows fly to his hairline once he recognizes Endeavor's large form. He still can't feel him, but that is undoubtedly him, so what's going on? Why can't Izuku sense his powerful quirk like he usually can?
There are three likely options: one being that this is actually a clone, two that Endeavor is somehow quirkless now—which wouldn't make sense since Izuku would still be able to sense him somewhat in that case, and three being that Extract is just being weird.
Izuku isn't given time to think through each hypothesis, however, because Endeavor pauses when he walks in and places his boots by the door. He's still crouched low to the ground, his large hand not yet having removed itself from the top of his shoe.
The number two hero just stands there, listening. And that's how Izuku knows he's been caught.
To be fair, he was never banking on being able to stay hidden for long anyway.
So, biting the bullet, Izuku takes a step forward, still in the shadows, but his foot hasn't even touched the ground yet when the flames erupt. A fireball shoots toward him, but Deflect wraps around him before the scorching heat can engulf him whole. The attack is redirected to his right, where it dissipates into the air.
The next fireball barrels his way a quarter of a second later, this one being much denser. If Izuku uses Deflect for this, it'll just hit the lovely dining table off to the side and ruin it—yeah, it's mahogany, so Izuku isn't about to do that.
Instead, Black Whip creates reinforced gloves around his hands and torso and allows him to catch the densely packed fireball. With his back now pressed against the wall due to the sheer force and speed of the impact, Izuku is able to kick off and send the fireball right back at Endeavor.
The man easily absorbs it in a blur of red and orange, and Izuku resolutely doesn't move even though he does sense the next attack coming. Endeavor's large hand is wrapped around his throat in a second's time, yanking him into the light now flooding from the lamp at the entrance to the home. Izuku dangles from his grip, hands gripping his meaty wrist to alleviate the pressure, and he can only smile when he sees the way Endeavor's face drops.
"You," he says, sounding around seventeen steps above being pissed. And maybe he has a right to be this upset, as Izuku did just break into his home. "What the hell are you doing inside my house, Rabbit?"
"Would you believe it if I said this isn't the first time someone has asked me that in that same tone?"
"Oh, believe me," Endeavor grinds out, grip tightening on him, "after I'm through with you, this'll be the very last time."
"You think so?" Izuku asks breathlessly, now scrabbling against his arm. Fuck, the man could stand to loosen his hold just a little.
Endeavor keeps Izuku dangling in the air and uses his free hand to yank off the weapons hanging from Izuku's middle, including the ones stashed in his jacket. His knives and accessories clatter to the floor, and Endeavor kicks them away. "You better wise up right now," he threatens then, his blue eyes piercing into Izuku's, "because I'll only ask this once: where is my son?"
Izuku fights back a roll of the eye, wincing when he responds through labored breaths. "He's—he's still in his— ah— room. He doesn't even know I'm here, but if you keep— shit— shouting like that, he just might." He adds rather desperately, "I would n—never hurt him, sir."
For a minute it looks like Endeavor doesn't believe him and will go check for himself, but Izuku sees the way his jaw clenches, a clear indicator that he's thinking hard about something.
Izuku would like to bet he's remembering Hosu. Yeah, he wants to spit, why the fuck would I waste my time trying to hurt your son when I fought alongside him to kill Stain, you idiot? Think for one second.
The grip on Izuku's throat lessens a little, allowing him to breathe again. The boy gasps a little, blinking a few times when the feeling in his limbs return. "Thanks."
Endeavor's eye twitches, a sudden sense of calmness exuding from his body. "You can sense where people are, can't you?"
Izuku stays silent.
"I've been studying you," the pro hero continues, his gaze not breaking away from him. The abrupt change in tone gives Izuku whiplash. "You're always one step ahead. You can always tell when some villain is coming up on you, and you always know where they're running to."
"Some say I have a pair of two functioning eyes," Izuku says, but surprisingly Endeavor ignores the jab.
"It took me a while to figure out how you do it. I watched a lot of videos, spent more nights than I wanted analyzing your every appearance, your every public fight."
Slowly, Endeavor reaches up and peels a small, sheer slip of bandage from behind his ear. He holds it up to the light, eyes dark, and Izuku's lips part in awe.
It's a miniature device, near invisible to the naked eye, with an even tinier blinking dot on the side of it. Now that the bandage is off of Endeavor's skin, Izuku is hit with the feeling of his overwhelming, ferocious quirk.
And it's too good to be just a coincidence.
"Quirk energy blockers," Izuku whispers.
"After some more research, I figured it was the quirk you could track. So, I had someone make this for me to try my theory out." He lowers Izuku to the ground just enough for the tips of his toes to touch the tile. "And it looks like I was correct."
Izuku feels like a deer in headlights for a few seconds, but when Endeavor doesn't say anything else, obviously waiting for his response, Izuku knows the man doesn't have anything else to link this information to.
So, he may as well help him connect the dots.
"Well," he chokes out, pushing away every ounce of his pride while knowing his thirteen year old self would hate him for doing this. "I'm glad you're so smart, because I need your help."
Endeavor sneers. "And why would I trust you enough to do anything for you?"
Izuku's hand shakily comes up, his fingerprints pressing against the side of his mask. They register successfully, and the accents light up green. As Endeavor watches with an increasingly confused expression, Izuku takes off his mask and lets his hand fall back to the pro hero's wrist.
Air hits his dirt encrusted face, and his curls stick to his forehead and cheeks. Endeavor's eyes widen, and Izuku sees the exact moment everything falls into place in his mind.
"Because All Might does."