Chapter 34: Perspectives and an Unhappy Reunion
The thing that looked like Mr. Saito moved through the small, dark apartment, running its fingers over the framing, the furniture, and oh so longingly across the smattering of photographs that were hung up on the walls. A single crooked digit traced around one particular photo, the face of a young man with wide and trusting eyes, wild messy hair, and a soft, kind smile that sat in the small, inexpensive Butsudan just inside the main room. It used its fingertip to smear a crimson trail of blood onto the glass, forming the shape of a heart around the young man's picture before it giggled in a grown man's voice.
The still warm body of the former teacher was tied to a chair in the living room with thick nylon ropes around his wrists that had dug into his flesh during the man's attempts to slip free of the bonds. All he had succeeded in doing was bruising the skin there bringing his captor some amusement over the week it had held him in his own apartment. He had strained against the repeated drainings, but he had truly struggled at the last when it had finally finished with him an hour beforehand, leaving him almost completely exsanguinated.
Combined with the stink of all the times he had soiled himself during his captivity and the piles and smears of rotted food that littered the space, even the overpowering smell of the spilt blood spattered about the walls and floor was rendered unappetizing. It was a shame too, considering his blood had tasted oh so much like his son's had.
The corpse glared at the copy of itself, identical in every way save for one detail. The doppelganger's eyes were still intact, where Mr. Saito's had been torn to shreds, the visible claw marks of the thing's abuse readily apparent on the skin around where the eyes had once sat. In their place were two large, golden yellow Cat's Eye shooter marbles, staring out at the muted TV that was playing coverage of the UA sports festival.
The doppelganger had been excited for this, had made sure to watch the entire thing once it had unlocked the man's phone early during their time together. Several voicemails from some boy at UA had proudly proclaimed that, "Saito-sensei's favorite student would be winning the first year festival," and had offered him tickets that the doppelganger had been sorely tempted to accept. Alas, playing with the father of its first true love had gotten it as close to the dead boy as it had been in years, and there was no time to be chasing a new flame when it couldn't be sure how long the man would last under its tender care.
But now, ah, this favorite student might be similar to dear Saito-kun. After all, if Mr. Saito had liked the kid, then maybe he was like his second son or something! Though not entirely sure, the thing figured that the green haired kid that had ended up winning was the boy in question. He even looked like Saito, which may have played a hand in him becoming the dead teacher's favorite student. And oh, when the boy had gotten all bloody in that last round fighting the other pretty, pretty blonde kid, it had almost been too much.
It was a shame that there was no time to properly enjoy the effects that the sight had provoked, but there were things to do. The transformation dropped off, the unnatural mimicry of the dead man falling away in sheets of grey sludge that spread out over the floor as the woman hidden underneath the layers of false flesh and fake clothing stepped free.
Himiko Toga stood naked in the dead man's apartment, and licked her lips as the screen flashed image after image of the day's victor. Izuku Midoriya, it said, announcing the latest object of her affection.
She skipped over to the corpse, bare feet splashing up little puddles of the thick, sticky mixture of blood, the sludge of her transformation, and the other fluids that had mixed there. Mr. Saito's corpse had slumped forward at some point, and she righted it in the chair before she gave it a dainty peck on the cheek, grateful for the man having brought her closer again to her beloved Saito, his dear son. It wasn't the same as becoming the boy himself had been, but being the father, for an entire week no less, was as close an approximation as she would get.
But still, Midoriya. Maybe his blood would prove even sweeter than Saito's had. She placed her hands on her cheeks and grinned at nothing, the Cheshire smile vanishing like the rest of her into the darkness of the apartment after a while. Anyone watching would have been unable to see her leave, just as they would have been unable to see her enter a week before.
In the end, it took the neighbors three days to call the police once the smell coming from the apartment became too strong to ignore.
"That will be all, my friend," smiled Rikiya Yotsubashi, waving his bear headed secretary out of his office for the evening. Just past the large floor to ceiling windows, the sun was beginning to sink behind the cityscape, casting the office in soft, creamsicle oranges and yellows.
"Always a pleasure, sir. I'll make sure to get right to work on casting calls for that new commercial ahead of phase two, you just make sure to enjoy your weekend," chirped the man, turning and leaving the well appointed office through glass double doors that swished over the carpet. Alone in his office, Rikiya let the smile fall, rubbing his temples as he considered things.
He grabbed his coat and hat from the rack at the door, a light affair more to protect his suit than to ward off any foul weather considering it was still April, before he took the elevator down to the entrance. He smiled again to his employees as he walked through the front office, doffing his hat towards the receptionist who returned his well wishes with another smile. The smiles were beginning to grate on him, as they continually reminded him of what he had seen earlier in the day. He took that irritation and stored it, adding it to the writhing black stockpile of hatred, worry, and anger that forever burned in his chest.
The drive after that was peaceful at least; his drivers had learned long ago that though he was never rude or cruel when displeased, he was much more generous when rides went smoothly. When he stepped out of the dark car that evening in front of the usual office building, his chauffeur rolled the car away practically noiselessly. He would not be back for some time.
Stepping into the new building, which he also owned, he crossed through the empty lobby and into a much more heavily gilded elevator than was present at the Detnerat headquarters. When after a short while the elevator dinged open again, he found himself striding through the halls into a different conference room, this one darker, sleeker than any that one would find at Detnerat. The only objects in the room were a table and set of five chairs, four of which were occupied. A framed picture of his father, proud, noble, and regal, was hung up against the wall at the head of the table, cast in an ethereal glow by the overhead lights.
Running a quick hand over his eyes to force his quirk to appear just over that spot, he stood in imitation of his father, the ragged, hateful parody of a domino mask covering his eyes and cresting his large, hooked nose. He was no longer Rikiya Yotsubashi, the CEO of Detnerat; here, he was Re-Destro, son of the vanquished savior, and leader of the new Meta Liberation Army. Bowing his head to the portrait of his father, he took his seat at the table, crossing one leg over the other before glancing at the other occupants of the room, his trusted lieutenants.
"You must understand, dear brothers and sisters, that I am very ill at ease this evening." Kizuki, the pale blue skinned woman inclined her head towards him, ready to give her answer to his statement. Her perpetually questioning eyes roved around the room, black sclera and lavender hair only heightening the woman's already pronounced beauty. He would have been surprised if one of the others had spoken first, seeing as she was the MLA propaganda chair after all.
"If I may hazard a guess? The UA sports festival was progressing quite nicely until an unevolved brat decided to upend things. He wound up disgracing the entire event, and that's hardly a boon to our recruitment efforts if a quirkless of all things steals the glory from the most high profile demonstration of quirks we get each year."
"Only on the first year festival stage, though. And besides, the crowd wasn't all too receptive to him," interjected Hanabata, a slick man in a slicker suit. As Re-Destro was all too pleased to recall, the Hearts and Mind party had won a substantial number of seats in the National Diet under his leadership during the last election. "While narratively the story is quite difficult to spin against him politically, the reactions to his victory should be much easier to influence. Any laws concerning hero regulations, their equipment, we have room to work here if a quirkless kid can gain such traction. There may be options with a number of interest groups to propose legislation loosening quirk restrictions, or at least to cut back on red tape for support items if a brat like that can be seen to triumph over his betters with their use."
"Should be easy enough to get the counter-narrative going," offered Chikazoku, a tall, lanky man with straight dark hair down to his waist, blending into his equally dark turtleneck and pants. He was no Steve Jobs even if he did try to emulate the look in part. However, Skeptic's information warfare would be an invaluable tool in cutting off this particular thorny problem at its root, especially with all the confusion he could be counted on to sow.
"Just let me demonstrate the value of its life," requested the final commander present at the meeting from beneath his large, fur lined hood. Even in the Spring months, Geten was never one to be without his coat, and the chill of his voice came more from the feeling of his hatred than it did from any effects of his quirk. "A strengthless peon like that? A very visible, and very messy death will see the proper public attitude restored in short order, lord Re-Destro."
Re-Destro smiled as he inclined his head, making the L of liberation with his right hand as he crossed his legs over opposite from when he had sat down, and glanced around the table. Assured of their absolute attention, finally, he spoke.
"Curious, you'll be directing coverage onto the effectiveness of support gear above all else. With Detnerat entering into hero support tech in eight months or so, we can use the opportunity to promote the utility of support gear, and highlight how quirked individuals would benefit even more from its use than the little upstart did today. We can't afford for a mainstream media outlet to appear openly hostile towards the boy, but you'll be working with Skeptic to code your language to imply that the child's victory wouldn't have been possible if others had been granted access to the same technology. Raise doubts in the op-eds about the fairness of the festival, the executive decision making, whatever you need to in order to paint the competition as skewed in his favor."
"Yes, lord Re-Destro. I'll be sure to prepare a basic outline for most of the local affiliate stations as soon as we conclude our meeting." Re-Destro smiled at her before turning to regard Hanabata.
"Trumpet, you'll be pursuing the safety angle in any regulations the Hearts and Mind party puts forward. Underline the issue as one of criminals having increasing access to equalizing equipment, and make sure to stress that heroes need to be allowed more effective countermeasures. When Detnerat formally announces its entry into the market, I want us to hit the ground running with lethal options for every soldier we can arm while keeping the less effective options for those heroes that will be against us."
"It will be done, sir. I'll contact one of the more sympathetic think tanks and get to work on having a piece of legislation ready to be introduced by the next session. With the whips we've been getting together, it should be a simple matter to marshal the votes." The man brushed the single strand of his dark hair that dangled free out of his face and inclined his head.
"As for you Skeptic; pursue three online disinformation campaigns. One claiming the boy has an invisible quirk, one claiming the matches were fixed, and the other claiming that he's had some kind of enhancements. Don't outright state that it's steroid use or Trigger, but definitely encourage any camps that pop up supporting those positions. As for your own narrative, make it as vague and as unfalsifiable as possible."
"I've already had a number of bot networks trawling social media posts for some worthwhile narratives," said Skeptic, glancing up from his laptop. "I've got a couple of farms based in South Korea ready to start posting under a few of those trends, but I've got a few others you hadn't mentioned. Would you like me to go over those, sir?" Re-Destro waved a hand and gave him a permissive look.
"I trust your intuition, Skeptic. If you think it will be an effective course of action, then by all means, pursue it. You have never failed us before." The man straightened up at the praise and began to type faster, grinning underneath his long hair. "Now then, Geten."
"Lord Re-Destro?" Inquired the hood, two burning dots peering out from within its dark recesses.
"As the only one of us without a civilian cover, I trust you to act decisively when opportunities present themselves. However, we must wait for Midoriya's status to fade before we can remove him; it would not be acceptable to make him a martyr. Instead...find some business that portrays itself as proud to employ the quirkless. Make it look like an accident, make sure it's attributable to one of the unevolved that works there. That should help to inspire doubt in their competency more broadly. Yes, that will do nicely." Geten grumbled, but seemed to recover as he thought on the matter some more.
"It will be a pleasure to remind them of their place, Lord Re-Destro." The man clapped his hands, pleased with his subordinates' work.
"Excellent work, all of you. Your commitment to our ideals has restored my mood wonderfully. My father would be proud to see such devoted soldiers carrying on the fight for liberation. You are dismissed for the evening. Fight well, my brothers and sisters."
"Liberation over suppression," they chorused, rising from their seats to bow to their leader with the salute of their army rising to their heads.
"Liberation over suppression," he answered, echoing their salute before turning on his heel and making for the elevator. On the way down, Re-Destro once more became Rikiya Yotsubashi, who smiled with much more mirth as he stepped out into the night air and spotted his chauffeur.
As the man hurried to bring the car around, Rikiya couldn't help but smile wider as he considered the progress that had been made on his trump card. Only a few more weeks until the Claustro system was ready for testing. It would be a suit of armor befitting a general; the leader that would overthrow the chains of equality and handicaps that were forced on them. He would become a modern Harrison Bergeron, but this time, the story would have a different ending. He would be the one to crush the Handicapper General.
Noriko Sanada was a very busy woman with a very tight schedule, but when her subordinates finally found an opening on the Midoriya acquisition, she dropped the remaining appointments for the day and immediately moved to action the opportunity.
The two agents assigned to the case, Suru and Kado Shoyu-sha, had done their damnedest to get the mother on their side, but it was no surprise that she had been as obstinate as she was. The situation was much different from the one they had pulled Keigo from, after all.
No dirty home littered with bottles, or an absent look in the parents' eyes that only ever changed with the prospect of money; no, Inko Midoriya cared, which complicated things significantly. The continued surveillance hadn't revealed any opportunities for social services to remove the boy from her care, despite two prior attempts to manufacture such an excuse. And eliminating the mother was of course, never an option. The HPSC was practical, but it was not, strictly speaking, evil. Its ultimate goal was the protection of the peace above all else, after all.
When the call came through, she had been sitting in her office, preparing to deal with the fallout from Best Jeanist's declining case numbers and had also been getting ready to put out the latest press briefing on the fact that Miruko operated without an agency. Honestly, the media hounds weren't going to let the rabbit go easily, which she supposed, was appropriate enough. Damnit though, for all her brashness and disdain for cooperation, the woman got results. Back to the matter at hand however.
"You're sure of this? I don't want to make the request to Tartarus and have this turn out to be some child that happens to look like him. As I recall, he ended up winning the Sports Festival today, I find it odd that he would be sneaking out on today of all days."
"I don't know what to tell you, Sanada-sama, except that the boy I'm seeing now exited from Midoriya's bedroom window and traveled alone to Dagobah Beach. He seems to be in some kind of distress, but I can't risk getting any closer without potentially alerting him to my presence." Agent Suru's voice was quiet, her brusque and businesslike tone barely carrying through the distortion of the phone. She didn't sound unsure of her observations however, which meant there was likely some connection to the location.
Noriko wracked her brain, trying to recall from Midoriya's profile if there was some emotional or psychological significance to Dagobah Beach that he would seek it out for comfort. Ah, yes, they had determined that he had been the one behind the sudden cleanup over the preceding Summer. That would make sense, in a way, but the cause of his distress didn't line up with the day's events. Perhaps a crisis of identity? Regardless, her instincts were telling her to trust Suru.
"I'm making the transfer from Tartarus, agent Kado Shoyu-sha will explain the terms of the arrangement to the asset before they arrive for the operation. You are only to intervene if Midoriya is in immediate danger of death, if the asset attempts to violate the terms of the arrangement, or if a hero tries to intervene. Make sure to be documenting the entire encounter once the asset is deployed since we may not have another opportunity like this. Make it count."
"Of course, Sanada-sama. I'll await agent Kado Shoyu-sha and the asset and proceed with the operation once they're in place. Do you have an ETA on their arrival?" Noriko paused, running a quick mental calculation.
"Anticipate their arrival within thirty minutes."
"Understood, ma'am. I'll contact you again when they arrive."
"Good luck, agent Suru." Click . Noriko leaned back in her chair and looked out the window at the slowly rising starry sky, the sun now well below the horizon. She made the necessary calls to her other agent and the officials at Tartarus, made a log of the operation in her notes, and that was that.
It was unfortunate, how they would be acquiring Midoriya. But in the end, he could recover from some trauma, and then, well, everything would work out for the better for everyone. Someone had to concern themselves with the greater good, after all.
She stood from her desk and walked over to the small cabinet that sat opposite the windows in her office, seldom if ever touched except for the days where she wouldn't head home to her apartment. Above the hidden bar was the carved wooden representation of the HPSC crest, the old star of the national police agency intertwined with the evolved double helix of the meta-gene in place of the old laurels. Beneath it, inlaid in gold foil, was the motto of their agency.
Sed quis custodiet ipsos custodes?
"We do," said Noriko, pouring a finger of Hakushu whisky for herself. She stared at herself in the amber reflection. Pale blonde hair, shrewd blue eyes, pinched features, and ever deepening frown lines on her face.
It was not the face of a hero, nor the face of any conventional kind of warrior, to be fair. It was, however, the face of one who could stand in the darkness and do what needed to be done. She sipped her drink and sat down on the couch in her office that faced the window, crossing her legs and staring out at the evening landscape. Her agents were competent people; they would call soon enough. For now, all that was required was that she wait.
Sighing, she got back up and moved to her computer before pulling up the press briefing on Miruko, as well as the report Best Jeanists's numbers. She got back to work because, despite everything else, it wouldn't be acceptable to leave a task unfinished.
Rin Takamado watched her grandson fail over and over on the small television that she allowed within her home out of necessity rather than any actual liking for the thing. The buke-zukuri in which she resided was well out from the cities, the old military styled mansion suiting her tastes and her status in equal measure. As the day wore on, her expression grew more and more dour, and ice began to creep along the entire building's exterior as the woman's silent anger built.
She watched the boy refuse to compensate for his inherent weakness, the only flaw she could not remove from even herself, despite his ability to have done so. He refused to use the ability that she had gone to so much trouble to create for him, after so much time. She watched as another future scion of House Takamado failed completely and utterly to cement their place as the ones destined to retake the Chrysanthemum Throne, to restore the divine rulership that their nation so desperately required.
After all the trouble she had gone through to find a girl within her own line suitable for a mukoyōshi with the boy, it was insulting. Having the girl's male siblings disowned and then disappeared had been rather a hassle, after all, and now the boy she had chosen to elevate from a cadet family was unwilling to fulfill the purpose he had been created for? Unacceptable.
There was no time anymore, no time to raise another champion. With Rei positioned as she was for leverage, it would have been pointless to release the girl, only to force another union that had at best a slim chance at producing the correct mix of quirks in the offspring. Unideal though he was, Shoto and his quirk would have to be made suitable for her purposes.
Of course, there was always the option of finding another vessel within their House for the quirk the boy held, but...no. Of the viable ones within the Todoroki branch, Natsuo was too rebellious, and Toya was dead. Fuyumi had inherited her mother's constitution, and was too weak willed besides. On her side of the family...no, none were acceptable. Worse, indebting her House in that way to such a creature as the Dark Merchant, no, it would be impermissible.
So, with no time to create another heir, it would fall to her to rectify the damage that her failure of a son-in-law had wrought in the raising of young Shoto. She would force his fire from him, bind him fully to his destiny, and raise the ruler that would restore order to Japan and then the world. No more nonsensical imported ideals, no more disgusting notions of usurpation and defiance. The new restoration would occur, and Shoto would be the Takamado champion at its head.
The evolution of quirks had changed so much, and yet so little at the same time. One of the great daimyo of the Edo period, Shimazu Nariakira, had once said that, "if we take the initiative, we can dominate; if we do not, we will be dominated," and now those ancient words of wisdom rang truer than ever. They were, after all, the words that she had lived by for nearly ninety years.
For the sake of all of them then, Shoto Todoroki would embrace his destiny, under her personal tutelage if need be. She had been lenient, far too lenient with Enji. Still, he might have some uses remaining. He would continue on in his role, for now. Her mind decided, Rin waved a wrinkled hand in disgust towards the television, and the sensor installed within turned it off.
The shutters around the room sprang open in sequence, letting in the early evening spring air, and the sound of cicadas recovering from a sudden cold snap. The ice crept its way back along the house as she recomposed herself, planning for what needed to be done.
Chizome Akaguro stood in the warehouse, sneering down at the gathered soldiers without any true disdain behind it. Most were too young, overly foolish and naive, but they were committed at least. They were more than willing to do their duty in the name of a pure society, to purge the world of those who sullied the name of heroism. That at least made them more worthy of the name 'hero' than any of their targets, though truthfully, their work was inherently sinful. Such was their burden.
"Master?" Queried his first true disciple. The boy's reptilian features were covered up about his eyes with the red mask that was the symbol of their movement. Blood smeared over one's vision, signifying their awakening to the truth that could only be achieved through the death of pretenders. Each soldier gathered had to slay a fake before they were permitted to wear the red; until then, the cloth masks they wore remained white.
Ideally, the masks would have been stained red in the blood of the false heroes, but that had proven impractical. Instead, the initiates would bring back a vial of their victim's blood and pour it into the vat of red dye alongside some of their own before plunging the masks into the tank. Currently, only about a third of those gathered had been granted their red masks, but at least the rest were eager to earn them. If his suspicions about the meeting that had been requested of him were confirmed, they would likely have an opportunity soon enough.
"Be at peace, Spinner. I have found nothing wanting in our soldiers," he said, his voice gravelly and low. "I am simply considering the depth of conviction of those before us, and the task ahead."
"Has something changed in your plans, Stain-sama?" Inquired the boy again. Chizome smirked, his nose-less face pushing up against his mask in a strange manner.
"Soldiers of truth!" He shouted, drawing the attention of the gathered men and women with a raptness that not even the deftest politician could command. "Hear me now. Each day we fight, each life we end, each sacrifice we make brings us closer to the truth!"
The soldiers cheered, blades rising in the air as a sea of flashing metal rippled out above the heads of the gathered men and women. There were a great many who raised swords, knives, machetes; most of these soldiers lacked quirks suited to their task but had committed themselves to the cause all the same. Some however hoisted transformed limbs, or displayed showers of potent energy; the form mattered not so long as the weapon was wielded in the name of their grander purpose.
"You are disciples, followers of the true path of heroism, though by drowning yourself in blood, you forever forsake your ability to walk it. Your sacrifice, our sacrifice, is the noblest of this age, and shall restore the sanctity of the name hero. It shall rebuild society in the service of all, and we shall tear down the facade of the self-aggrandizing, greedy leeches that chase clout and fame while bandying about with the word hero on their breasts. Listen and listen well!"
The various weapons, quirks, and limbs retracted or were sheathed as the gathered mass gave him their undivided attention.
"You are here because you have chosen not to wield your power for your own sake! Some of you have been hurt by the fakes, but to stand with us, you have risen. You have risen above your hatred, your own self interest! You have stained yourselves in blood to restore the name of heroism. And those of you who have yet to taste the flesh of the enemy; you too shall have your opportunity." He dragged his gaze over the sea of masks, white and red, and the determined eyes beneath them. "Soon, I shall depart in order to meet with an ally to our cause. As my first disciple, you will heed the words of Spinner as my own. He will not lead you astray in my absence. If all goes well, I will return quickly, and what is more, the unblooded among you will have their opportunity to meet the enemy en-masse soon enough."
Beside him the boy looked on in shock, seemingly unprepared for what Chizome had just placed on his shoulders. He laughed internally. The boy would do fine in the interim, and on the off chance that he did not return from his meeting, well, he would make a fine replacement in his stead. It was rare to meet one so young with such conviction. Such inner strength. In a strange way, he felt a kinship with the boy.
"Be well my comrades, for soon our greatest task will be upon us. You are dismissed." A few cheers rang out at his parting words, but for the most part the troops were solemn, subdued even. While it was true that they were attracted to the vision he had offered them, Chizome still felt disappointed that they were so concerned with his well-being, with his being there to carry it out. The message mattered more than he did, after all.
"Is there truly a risk that you will not return, Master?" asked Spinner, raising his eyes to meet Chizome's. They were uncertain, beneath the cloth, but they would change in time. He recalled when his own eyes had looked like that, beneath a different mask and in a different place. How foolish he had been then.
"There is a risk every time we embark into the field, young Shuichi. But the one I am meeting presents a...greater danger. Should I fail to return, I have every confidence in your ability to fulfill our vision." He placed a hand on the reptile boy's shoulder, offering him a rare, genuine smile. "But, I do fully intend to come back. Keep them in line for me."
"Of course, Stain-sama," said Spinner, finally dropping his gaze and inclining his head. "I will do whatever is necessary to bring truth back to the world."
"I know you will," replied Chizome, grinning a little wider and with no softness left. "I must leave now if I wish to arrive at the meeting on time. You know what to do."
"Right," his disciple said with a nod of his head. Like a ghost, Chizome melted into the darkness of the warehouse, and was gone, out into the night, vaulting over rooftops towards the Kamino district. It would be inappropriate to be late when one was meeting the Boogeyman, after all. Along the way he passed a transport van bearing the symbol of the HPSC on the side, with what looked to be a troop of guards from Tartarus offering an escort. Strangely, it was moving away from the direction of the prison, but he eventually put it out of his mind. There were more important matters at hand.
Mei had been having a quiet evening in the aftermath of the Sports Festival. Sure, she hadn't made it to the final round, but apparently the sponsors had seen her babies during the first two events well enough that she had gotten several invitations for proper demonstrations from a number of the leading companies in hero gear. When Izuku had ended up winning the whole thing, it had really been the icing on the cake, or in her case, the greasing on the gears.
Contrary to what Maijima-sensei might have thought, her entire world didn't revolve around her work. Only most of it did, and even then, she knew when to put things aside for the sake of more important stuff. Babies could break and be rebuilt. People, well, it was a lot harder to put them back together after they had been broken.
Izuku, her oldest friend, had seemed broken after the Sports Festival. The others, the pissy dandelion, the three musketeers, the rest of the little group, even the pro hero Ingenium that she had such a nice time talking with and recruiting as a future client; none of them had noticed the mask that her friend had worn after he came back from the nurse at the end of the day. But she had, because she had always known Izuku best.
Back when it had just been the two of them, and sometimes Melissa via video call from I-Island, it had been up to her to know when her friend had needed space, and when he needed help. He had become more tactile recently, certainly, and more receptive to efforts to help him. The flight module had gone over exceedingly well, and had helped snap him out of the despair he had fallen into after the USJ.
Needless to say, during the course of their friendship, he had returned the favor many times over. If it hadn't been for his serial interventions, Mei might have fallen into a coma by now through lack of sleep, or developed an iron deficiency from all the meals she skipped. Let alone the amount of vitamin D supplements she would have had to take if Izuku hadn't always managed to drag her out into the sunlight at least a few times a week.
But this time, the despair seemed different. It seemed like there had been an edge to it, like he had barely been containing the anger hiding behind it. She had figured it was something he would have needed space for, like all those times where talking about nothing, about math or mechanics or anything at all had been necessary to calm him. Instead of the hug she had wanted to pull him into, she had held back then, because it had seemed to be what he needed at the time. Imagine her surprise when she received a text late at night asking her to meet him back at Dagobah beach.
She hadn't bothered sneaking out. Her parents knew her well enough, trusted in her ability to keep herself safe and out of trouble, to not question her motives. She had simply told them where she was going, and that a friend needed help, and that was that. Her father had nodded to her, and reassured her that if she needed help that he would come running with the biggest wrench he had on hand, and it had made her smile. Still, worry gnawed at her stomach as she stepped out of her home and into the night.
It only took about fifteen minutes to arrive once she had departed, the local train schedule permitting her to hop on board and make her way to Dagobah Beach with very convenient timing. Making her way down the worn concrete steps, she moved out onto the clean sand and scanned the area for her friend. She spotted him some ways down the beach, his knees pulled into his chest and his back hunched forward.
"Izuku?" she asked quietly, moving to sit down next to him on the sand. He lifted his head and turned to look at her through red-rimmed, puffy eyes. He had been holding back his tears, clearly, and these weren't his usual waterworks either. These tears screamed something more profound; grief. "What happened, Mr. Runaway, huh?" she said, trying to see if the old nickname helped. Apparently it did, as the visage of pain softened, at least a bit.
"T-Thanks, M-M-Mei. I knew I c-could c-c-count on you t-to help," he mumbled, closing his eyes and taking a deep breath. She waited, letting the roll and crash of the waves fill the silence between them as he composed himself for whatever it was he needed to say. "They, they all l-lied to m-me, Mei." He sobbed again, and she reached out an arm around his shoulders and pulled him a little closer, saying nothing.
It took him another two minutes of sobbing to gather the strength to continue, and she felt her heart break a bit with every muffled cry of pain he let out. Whatever this was, it was the worst she had seen him since the night he had told them about - oh, no.
"T-they knew. I found p-proof Mei, t-that I w-wasn't crazy. The h-h-heroes knew, and they d-didn't tell me! One j-j-joint Mei, I've only g-got the one two joint. I, all this t-t-time, I was r-right. S-somehow, s-s-somehow I lost my q-quirk, and t-they knew, a-a-and they, they lied to me!" He wailed, throwing his head forward into his knees again as she drew him closer, unable to offer any more condolences than her presence and attention. What could she possibly say?
It was another ten minutes of quiet sobbing before her friend was ready to speak again, but it seemed that time had been what he needed to get to his real point. He was still shaking when he raised his head again, turning to look at her through eyes that no longer held back the tears.
"I-it h-h-happened to me, b-but it c-could happen to others, too. W-we, you, y-you have to b-be safe, Mei. I, I c-can't let a-anyone else f-feel like this. I, I d-d-don't want anyone e-else to know this p-pain."
"What can I do to help, Izuku?" she said, feeling on much firmer ground now.
"We, we n-need more e-evidence, and t-then, w-we're g-going to w-warn the others. I, I d-don't think I j-just broke my q-quirk or something. I, I t-think it was t-taken. You w-weren't there, b-but r-r-remember what I t-told you about the USJ?" Mei felt herself grow pale as the realization sunk in.
"The Nomu. You said it was like it had multiple quirks." He nodded, a fire growing behind the water in his eyes.
"I t-think m-my quirk b-being gone, and the N-Nomu h-h-having m-multiple q-quirks. They're p-probably connected. W-which means w-whoever did it, t-they're s-s-still out there. W-which m-means everyone e-e-else is still in d-danger of l-losing theirs. T-they already a-attacked us once, w-why wouldn't they t-try to t-take someone's q-quirk from them t-t-too?"
Mei was silent, considering the implications of what Izuku had just told her. If he was right, then he, his classmates, the whole of UA, hell even heroes in general, they were caught up in something much bigger than a random terror attack. Whoever it was that could steal quirks, they were powerful beyond just that ability. They had resources, and worse, information.
"Y-you r-remember, w-what I w-was working on, b-before the f-festival?" She nodded in confirmation. At the time, it hadn't seemed as pressing a matter, since Izuku wouldn't have been able to make use of it in the competition. But now, now that it was all but guaranteed that there were more of those Nomu out there, that someone was making more of them, it must have been at the top of his priorities.
"We'll work together - I've got plenty of lab time free. We'll get it ready for fieldwork before internships," she stated, releasing Izuku from her hold and using her free hand to turn him a bit so that they were making eye contact. "No matter what happens Izuku, we're in this together." His eyes filled up with tears almost immediately at that, but they were the kind she was used to. When he pulled her into a bone crushing hug, she simply accepted it and rubbed his back.
"M-Mei," he stammered. "T-thank y-you, Mei." She tightened her own hold on him, glad that her friend had decided to place his trust in her. It was a testament to their bond, how much alike they were, that he could still believe in her even when the others had seemingly gone behind his back. She knew him, and he knew her, and that was all there was to it.
"How touching," gurgled a voice that seemed to ooze its way into their ears. It was accompanied by a horrible, acrid smell of raw sewage and decay, and she felt Izuku tense up in her hold even as she turned to regard the voice. It was a gelatinous mass of amorphous slime, putrid green and formless save for the wide mouth and two hateful, malformed yellow eyes. Its red irises were blocked out by its dilated pupils, which seemed to be taking in every inch of the scene before it as it surged upwards.
"Long time no see, brat," it cackled, rising up in a liquid pillar that towered over the two teens as tendrils of sludge arrayed themselves behind the thing in a crude approximation of some holy corona. "I spent a lot of time trapped in Tartarus because of you, you know, and I never did even get to wear your skin back then. Why don't you make it up to me and help me fix that!"
The sludge villain let out a horrid, inhuman roar, and then, it charged.
Chapter 35: A Trap Sprung and a Name Chosen
"Come on you little brat, where's that explosion crap you pulled last time," taunted the sludge, sending another tendril hurtling down towards Midoriya. He jumped aside, just in time, the appendage slamming into the beach and kicking up a spray of fine white particles
on either side as it dug down through the sand from the force of the impact. The girl, Mei Hatsume, was faring little better than Midoriya, dodging around the villain's attacks rather than fighting back.
Agent Kado Shoyu-sha swore under his breath from his vantage point on a nearby rooftop. Agent Suru was down on the ground, waiting near the van from Tartarus along with the complement of prison guards, just out of sight of the beach and the two teens. She had a camera on hand, recording the altercation for the moment when their target would finally go on the offensive.
"Prisoner THX 1138, get him to fight back now, or you can kiss the deal goodbye," he hissed into his earpiece, watching with some satisfaction as the slimy bastard seemed to stiffen momentarily. It resumed its attacks with more ferocity, finally surging forward to completely enfold Hatsume in its hold. "Prisoner, you are not authorized to kill the girl, but you can render her unconscious. If she ends up dying then no matter what, you're going down a very deep hole, sludge boy."
"What's wrong brat!" Shrieked the villain, moving the struggling Hatsume up in front of Midoriya as it wrapped a tendril around the girl's nose and mouth. "Afraid to step in like last time? Well maybe I'll just take her body instead of yours! Seems like it might be a better fit anyways."
"No!" Screamed Midoriya, loud enough for the agent to recoil a bit even from his position on the roof. The kid charged forward, desperately clawing at the villain's body, but doing little else. That was when a sinking realization hit the agent.
"Oh, shit," breathed Kado Shoyu-sha, rapidly switching channels to contact his partner. "Suru, listen to me, the target can't use his gear for some reason. Either it's busted or he doesn't have it; doesn't matter, you've got to start confusing the angles on the recording. Obscure what you have to, but don't get a clear picture. He's not going to do anything incriminating!"
"Fuck," she replied. He watched as the woman began to fumble the camera, improvising a scared civilian persona as she jerked the device back and forth. He could hear her muttering simple phrases over his earpiece, and it was pretty convincing. 'Where were the heroes? What's happening? What is that kid doing, fighting that thing all by himself?' Things of that nature.
"My eye, you little shit, I'll kill you!" Roared the prisoner, directing the agent's attention firmly back onto the asset. Midoriya had apparently grown desperate enough to resort to maiming his attacker, if the blood streaming down the boy's arm and the asset's shrieks were anything to go by. Apparently he had gotten more effective in unarmed combat since his last encounter with the villain.
"Suru, you get that on camera?"
"Got it, but not too clearly. Should be easy to say it was him using his gear; the kid's as good as ours," came the reply.
"Prisoner THX 1138, disengage now. We've got what we need," he ordered after switching back to the asset's communication channel.
"Fuck that, this kid's dead!" It roared in response, and Kado Shoyu-sha found himself groaning. The idiot villain was going to screw it all up, damn it. Sure enough, the slime surged forward and wrapped itself around Midoriya, even as its other hostage stopped squirming as much.
"Suru, intervene, now! We can't lose the primary," he bellowed, jumping over the edge of the roof and rolling as he hit the ground, sidearm drawn and ready as he sprinted towards the beach.
"Hold position, there's some local hero jumping in to help already. Oh shit, it's goddamn Idaten. What the hell is Ingenium doing in Musutafu?"
"Who cares," shot back Kado Shoyu-sha, "let him handle it, we've got enough to take the primary so long as you hold onto that film. Hand off the recording to the cops when they show up, they'll know what to do with it. Just remember, when they get here, car fifteen is our officer."
"Understood, pulling back," she replied. Kado Shoyu-sha holstered his gun and leaned back into the shadows, watching the rest of the fight play out. "I've sent in the boys from Tartarus with the whole 'escaped prisoner' act, we should be good to let things play out now." He grunted in response, still watching intently as the hero engaged the villain.
Ingenium's intervention probably ended up saving the girl's life, all things considered. His empowered kicks and strikes were no joke, the engines in his elbows propelling him over the sand and with enough force to disperse the slimy mass long enough to pull the two kids to safety. It was only a short time later before the Tartarus guards reached the scene, their dark coats and peaked caps tossed aside to reveal a wide array of suppressive weaponry.
Gas canisters shot out all around the beach, and though the prisoner tried to escape, he ultimately fell to the assault under a combined effort of shock batons, quirk suppressants, and some really quite brutal emitter quirks the guards made use of. When one of the men in dark clothes burst the villain's other eye with a particularly nasty shockwave from his arm, Kado Shoyu-sha felt his stomach turn, but ultimately held firm. It was all for the greater good after all.
He continued watching, quietly, as the bleeding prisoner, a discarded asset now if there ever was one, was returned to a containment device and loaded into the back of the transport van. Agent Suru was nowhere in sight, likely handing off the 'evidence' the supposed civilian had taken to their officer on the scene. Ingenium was busy checking over the two teens as the police cars pulled up, lights flashing and officers strutting about as if they had anything to do with what had happened.
It wasn't a happy feeling, no, but he did feel some sense of grim satisfaction when one officer in particular broke through the crowd, Suru's camera clutched in a clear bag in one hand, and made his way over to Midoriya. Ingenium moved protectively in front of the boy and seemed to argue with the man for a moment before setting his hands on his hips and shouting something. The officer stood firm, and after a moment brushed past, grabbing the target by the wrist and pulling him forward.
For a moment it seemed like things might come to blows, but then, the girl screamed something at the officer, and Ingenium flinched. He turned to her, and leaned in, whispering something before he turned back to the officer and Midoriya and said something to them both. The policeman seemed uncomfortable at whatever was said, and the agent cursed his position for not being able to hear what was going on.
Finally, they broke apart, the target loaded into the back of one of the police cars while Ingenium said something else to the girl. Whatever it was got a determined nod before she made her way over to the waiting ambulance that had pulled up and whipped out her phone. Kado Shoyu-sha's eyes narrowed, and narrowed further as the pro hero took off after the police cars when they pulled away. Scowling, he reached for his own phone, and called his boss.
"Sanada-sama, this is Kado Shoyu-sha. The target is in custody, but we may have a problem. I suggest we move quickly."
Izuku, as if in a dream, let himself be pulled along, pushed gently but firmly into the back of a police car with his hands still covered in blood and ocular fluid, and his entire body still reeking of sewage. He listened, or at least tried to, when Iida's brother talked to him, but his main concern was Mei. She seemed okay, at least, but she was upset when the officer pulled him away. That wasn't all right. Mei was helping him, after all. She shouldn't be upset.
He spent the ride to the station, the check in, even the cursory wash they gave him in the station locker room in that state, simply letting things happen as his mind walked its way through things, neither truly asleep nor truly awake. He didn't even bother asking about the quirk one officer used to immediately dry him off after they pulled him from the shower, his sopping wet clothes becoming instantly warm like they were freshly laundered before returning to their normal temperature. He didn't come back to himself fully until he was forced into a folding chair in a well lit room, the blue rubber mat flooring making it seem like the darker colored furniture in the space was floating over water. There was a mirror along one wall, with bars across it, of course. That was when the reality of his situation sunk in.
The man who sat down across from him in the nicer office chair was gruff, tired, and looked like everyone's idea of a rough morning that had turned into a bad day that was considering making itself into an entire week's worth of shit. His coat, at least compared to Tsukauchi's immaculately well kept attire, was faded and wrinkled, and he wore no hat on his graying head. At least he wasn't chewing a cigar.
"Izuku Midoriya, currently attends UA high in the hero course, held for questioning on potential charges of inappropriate use of support gear, vigilantism, and battery with intention to cause grievous bodily harm. Thought you'd go out and play hero without a license just cause you had a big day, huh son? Well, looks like you're in some deep shit now." The man glared at him, putting a folder down onto the table and spreading out its contents. It was an incident report, and from what Izuku could read upside down, it completely misrepresented the entire situation.
He wanted to respond, he so badly wanted to jump up and defend himself, but two things held him back. One; he knew how the criminal justice system worked here, even if he had never envisioned being on this side of it. Even before quirks, the Japanese system relied on confessions, and achieved a staggering number of convictions based around them. Talking now would not serve him well, especially given the period of time they might be able to hold him for without bringing formal charges while he was 'questioned' by the man before him.
The other thing that held him back was his memory of Ingenium's words of warning. Help would be on its way, he had said, and all Izuku had to do was hold out until Ingenium got in touch with the proper people. Hold on, and whatever happens, don't take any deals they offer.
Ingenium had seen what had happened after all, spending the evening patrolling Musutafu after the sports festival as added security against purse snatchers apparently, and had come to rescue him and Mei when he saw them in trouble. He knew Izuku was innocent. So maybe he wouldn't lie to him, like the other heroes had, and help would really come. And why would he feel the need to lie anyways? Clearly, the others had felt they had a good reason to deceive him.
No, none of that was important right now. He was in police custody, accused of breaking laws that he technically couldn't with gear he hadn't used. Hell, he hadn't even had the charge left to use his gear if he had wanted to. His gear had been useless, and it had also been taken from him. Now it was probably sitting in their evidence lockup, getting tagged by some technician to be used against him in court for some reason he couldn't comprehend.
He felt his eyes water as he resisted the urge to slam his fingers over the interface that was still, thankfully, on his neck, covered by his hair. Why, why was this happening to him? What had he done to deserve this, any of this? Why had the heroes lied to him, why were the police trying to destroy him? Was the world really so cruel that after everything, after he had overcome everyone telling him he couldn't make it, that he would lose his chance because one of his demons had risen up from the past like a bad dream and attacked him and the only other person he knew he could trust?
"Tears won't do you any good, kid, so spare me the waterworks," rumbled the detective, glaring harder as Izuku fought back the urge to cry even more than he had been. He wanted out of here, he wanted his gear back, he wanted Mei to hug him, hell, he would have settled for Mirio flying through the door to tell him things would be okay, even if he had deceived him. But no, he had none of that. All he had was a hostile detective who had come to a conclusion without the real facts. The man was so certain of himself he was going to pursue that conclusion all the way to Izuku's damnation, and it just wasn't fair. But since when had life ever been fair to him?
"We've got a civilian eyewitness report and video evidence of you attacking that villain; that's revocation of your right to study at a hero school for starters. Vigilantism is especially illegal for hero students." He leaned back in his chair, still unsmiling. "And that's not even getting into the misuse of support gear; that's a couple years at least, plus the enhanced charges for unlicensed intervention against a villain. You'll have a count of battery against you for sure, not to mention that slime boy will be able to seek damages against you for fucking up his eye. Why not spare yourself some pain and just confess already, eh son?"
He bit down the urge to reply, knowing that if he waited long enough, they would either have to let him go, or he would get charged and would have counsel present to assist him. But no, Ingenium had said that help would come before that, hadn't he? So who was coming? Hadn't Mei said something along the same lines before she had been taken to the ambulance? Damn it, it was getting hard to remember.
As if in answer to his many questions the door at the back of the interrogation room slid open, and a woman in a dark suit entered. She certainly didn't seem to be the friendliest person, but her hard gaze softened immediately when it landed on him.
"Thank you, Detective, but if you don't mind, I'd like a word with Mr. Midoriya," she said, moving over next to the man who stood up angrily.
"Now you listen to me Suru, I've got this kid on-"
"The HPSC has taken an interest in this case, detective, and that's the end of it. If we require your help, we'll request it. Now leave, please, for the duration of out conversation." The man fumed, glaring daggers at the woman as he stomped out of the room, slamming the door behind him and shaking the bars over the mirror as he went. The woman only shook her head before sitting down across from him, dropping her own files on top of the ones the detective had left behind.
"Hello, Izuku. My name is agent Suru, and I work for the HPSC. It seems you've gotten wrapped up in quite the situation here, and I'm going to do my best to help you." Izuku's eyes widened. Was this the help that Ingenium had promised him? He certainly wanted to think so, but something seemed off about the woman. The way she had interacted with the detective had seemed almost too hostile, as if it were performative rather than genuine. He remained silent, choosing instead to let her fill the quiet air between them.
"I'm sure you didn't necessarily go looking for trouble this evening, but you have to admit this looks very bad. I may personally believe you didn't do anything wrong, of course, but even the HPSC can't always guarantee that the police will conduct an investigation fairly." She gestured towards the files beneath her own folder, but still he said nothing. After a moment, she explained.
"That incident report right there, whatever documentation they have on camera - it's probably not very good but that won't really matter to them, unfortunately. I'm sure in time you could prove your innocence, but that's time that you won't be able to spend learning to be a hero, and I'd hate to see someone so promising lose their shot at helping others because of some overzealous cops. Especially if those cops were holding onto some...old fashioned ideas." Damn it, he couldn't hold back any more.
"What ideas are you talking about?" That was stupid, he knew, but it didn't seem like there was anything they could use against him in that question. An opportunity to gather more information was one he would almost always seize upon, anyways. Smiling that same seemingly rehearsed smile, agent Suru showed her phone for him to see, open to one of the more prominent social media applications. Izuku's stomach dropped.
Right under the trending tab near the bottom, far past the various tags that had sprung up around the second and third year festivals, there were several different sets of words pertaining to the first years. Just only barely edged out by the tags #BeatTheOdds and #AllMightyHugs, the tags #QuirklessCheater, #UAisLying, and #CharityCase stood out in bold lettering. More followed, the numerous positive and encouraging hashtags not standing out to him as Izuku was lost in the absolute storm of derision and seeming disgust that was all around them.
It made sense, of course. Even if it was the least watched of the three stages, Izuku had done the equivalent of taking a gold medal in the Olympics while crippled earlier in the day for everyone to see. That the backlash would be so immediate, so sudden though, that hurt badly. And it certainly explained why the detective seemed so intent on destroying him, if the man had seen him win earlier that day and had then taken personal offense to it.
"Of course, there is another option besides trying to fight the police on this," said the agent, flipping her phone back around and sliding it into her jacket pocket as she finally opened the folder she had carried in. "The HPSC has a number of programs we pursue, programs we don't advertise but which are important nonetheless. Are you familiar with the villain threat level classification system, Midoriya? It is distinct from the villain ranking system which follows the letter grade." He shook his head, and she smiled.
"Unsurprising that you haven't covered it in school yet. Suffice it to say that certain villains might have different threat levels assigned. Your actions, while technically not vigilantism, still put you under what the HPSC classifies as a threat level white: usually those are individuals, vigilante or otherwise, with no malevolent intentions that will not be pursued by the HPSC or normal authorities until after a formal recruitment attempt has been made and rejected."
He glanced down at that, eyes scanning the documents on the table. Contracts, provisions, intellectual property forms that covered anything he might make, and...forms for emancipation from his mother? He snapped his head back up and narrowed his eyes at the woman, who only gave him a sympathetic look.
"The HPSC is extending a formal invitation to you at this time to join its hero development program. Should you choose to accept, any past record or current legal troubles would be wiped out, and you would become a ward of the agency. From there, you would devote all your time to developing as a hero. You'll have access to better facilities, virtually unlimited funding for your projects, and the best trainers that can be found." She snapped the folder closed and looked at him with a hardness in her eyes that didn't seem so much rehearsed as genuine.
"Of course, your other option is to trust in the system to resolve things quickly and get you back into UA, if you're able to go back at all. We'd hate to see such a promising hero barred from his calling over something so trivial as all this. Please, Izuku, let us help you, huh?" He said nothing more, and she stood up to leave, gathering her folder. "I'll give you some time to mull things over before you need to give me an answer. Think of your future, Izuku, that's all I can ask of you." With that the agent turned on her heel and walked out of the room, leaving Izuku alone with his mind running a mile a minute, in dread anticipation of the return of the detective.
It was another thirteen minutes, by his own count before the door slammed open and the detective offered fresh accusations, urging him to confess. His attempts seemed a bit more vigorous this time, as if the man was trying to make his situation seem more and more hopeless. But that didn't make sense. If the man had truly been interested in trying to prosecute him, in getting a conviction, why would he make it seem like his only option was one where Izuku would receive what amounted to a clean record by going with the HPSC? Wouldn't it make more sense to make him think he had a chance, and then spring a trap when it was too late?
Maybe the detective just wasn't shrewd enough to play the manipulation game. Or, maybe, he was very shrewd, and his actual goal was to get Izuku to sign the HPSC documents. That would only make sense if he could ascribe some real motive to the agent's offer though, and frankly, beyond it seeming like an almost altruistic interest in a future hero, he couldn't place it. Sure, agent Suru's disposition had been a bit strange, her speech and interactions had seemed rehearsed, but that had probably been a result of repetition and familiarity with the general situation, rather than a practiced deception, hadn't it?
"Kid, you listen to me and you listen good, you confess right now, and you'll end up sparing yourself, me, and your poor mother a whole lot of pain, you understand?" growled the man. "Spare yourself further shame and just admit that you got a bit too big for your boots and tried to play hero, and we can be done here." His eyes watered and his throat burned, thinking of what effect his arrest, however temporary, might have on his mother. He knew she had suffered so much already under the discrimination of raising a quirkless child. That this detective would dare to imply Izuku would ever intentionally keep her in pain? He was very, very angry at that.
"I don't know just who you think-" was all Izuku managed to get out before the door to the interrogation room slammed open once more. There, framed in the light from the hallway, was a very deadly looking Eraserhead with principal Nezu riding shotgun on his shoulder. The small mammal's fur was standing on end, and his normally chipper expression was turned down into a snarl.
"Problem Child, not one more word, please," growled Aizawa, advancing on the detective with all the menace of a big cat stalking some wounded prairie animal. Nezu hopped down from his shoulder and surveyed the documents on the table as Izuku looked at them in both incredulity and gratitude, catching the sympathetic and apologetic look the principal shot towards him.
"It would seem you've detained one of my students after he was attacked by a villain that was lost through negligence on the part of Tartarus, on potential charges that I believe are not strictly applicable, and that you are now holding him for questioning without any specific arrests in conjunction with this case having yet been made, yes?" The detective seemed to recover from his shock and sneered at Nezu.
"What, you think him being quirkless will get him off the vigilantism charge? We've still got him on-" Surprisingly, the man stopped when Nezu held up a paw and Aizawa proceeded to produce a sleek black laptop that he unfolded onto the table
"While I understand that you believe you have an eyewitness account of the attack and some civilian video footage, I think you will find that the local surveillance cameras will provide a much more...exculpatory accounting of the incident," smirked Nezu, pressing a button on the laptop. The screen was facing away from Izuku, but from the look on the detective's face, it was clear that whatever was in the video was substantial, and not in the man's favor.
"We passed a representative from the HPSC on our way in after we were notified about the incident; she seemed to be leaving. I'd suggest you go coordinate with her concerning a more pertinent investigation, rather than pursuing one against the victim of an assault."
"Such as," menaced Aizawa, eyes flashing red and burning into the wall over Izuku's head, "how exactly a prison transport from Tartarus wasn't secure enough to prevent the escape of a villain who has explicitly stated his desire to kill minors in the past. Such a lapse in security, that wouldn't look good for anyone involved, would it?"
"No, of course not," replied the detective evenly. "But the failure of the prison transport aside, we still have the issue of-"
"I suggest you drop the pretense and release my student before I do something that will permanently end your ability to operate as a police officer," interjected Nezu, replacing his cheery mask and seeming all the more dangerous for it.
"Are you threatening me?"
"No, not at all," he chirped, "I'm simply saying that if you were unable to realize and rectify a mistake like this, I would have to subject both you and your entire department to the full force of a UA backed public inquiry. But thankfully, you seem like a good sort of officer who can be counted on to do the right thing."
The man looked furious, fist crinkling the papers on the table in a white knuckled grip, but ultimately he relented, gathering up the documents with a huff and made for the door.
"We'll get the proper forms in order and get this cleared up right away, gentlemen. Thank you for interceding on the boy's behalf. It would have been a...shame for a young hero to lose their future over a misunderstanding." He slammed the door behind him, and Izuku slumped backwards in his seat, unable to make eye contact with either of the two educators who had come to save him.
"I can surmise from Chiyo's warning to me earlier this afternoon that your excursion with Ms. Hatsume was related to a certain, hmm, discovery you may have made. Which undoubtedly caused you some distress. Is that right, Midoriya-kun?" Izuku said nothing, only nodding while still not looking at Nezu.
"I fear you're owed an explanation as well as an apology then, as once again a miscalculation on my part has caused you harm. I hope you will at least hear us out when we are in a more friendly location."
"How many people know? Who knew?" He said, finally meeting the principal's gaze with watering eyes. His hands curled into fists at his side. Nezu glanced about the room before withdrawing a black cylinder from his vest and pressing a button on one end, resulting in a soft buzz emanating from the device.
"That will disrupt any listening devices present, for the moment. I promise you a full explanation later, Midoriya, but for now I can tell you that myself, Aizawa-sensei, Recovery Girl, the Big Three, Sir Nighteye, a retired hero by the name of Gran Torino, and All Might are the ones aware of the circumstances around your quirk."
Izuku felt the wind leave him even as he tried to draw in a breath. So many people, pretty much everyone close to him, was confirmed to have been lying to him, for who knows how long. There were so many more questions, so many things he would demand answers to, but even as hurt as he was, he could recognize now was not the time. When two officers arrived to escort them to the front, he still couldn't bring himself to properly look at either of the teachers.
Once they were led out through the winding hallways and into the lobby, relief flooded through him. Izuku had never been so grateful to see anyone as he was to see Mei standing with Ingenium and his own mother in the police station lobby, and he quickly fell into a strong embrace from the two women.
"I couldn't think of anyone else to call, and Ingenium said to get help from UA, and I had Maijima-sensei's number for emergencies, and he put me through to Nezu, and I know what he did, but Izukun, I was scared for you, and," Mei babbled, before Izuku cut her off with his own warbled cry of gratitude and pulled her tighter into their hug. It was strange, seeing her mimic his own muttering stream of consciousness, and odder still was that she was crying a bit as they clung to each other, the poor girl still stinking of sewage.
She did not cry often, but currently, her tears could have rivaled his own, even if the two of them together were nowhere near a match for the veritable waterfall that was his mother. Aizawa and Nezu took up positions near Ingenium, standing like a wall between the trio and the rest of the station, saying nothing. Ingenium for his part had just stood back and looked out darkly at a police officer that had moved from his desk to tell them all to leave.
The relief Izuku had been feeling spread throughout him at the contact, and for a single blessed moment, it didn't matter that everything had been awful. It didn't matter that his trust had been broken. It would take time, but the damage could be undone, because the heroes weren't like the HPSC, or the others. Even if he couldn't bring himself to trust them again as completely as he had, not so soon after their deception had been revealed, the heroes had come to save him, and that meant a lot. When the time was better, he would hear them out.
He was quiet on the car ride home, grateful for his mother's ever gentle presence. Always patient, always understanding. It was a surprise when it seemed like she was anxious to say something, and even more of a surprise when they finally arrived home and she directed him to their kitchen table. A laptop, one of the many he had used over the years, was sitting on the table, Lynchpin's green emblem standing out against the black screen.
"Izuku," his mother began, uncertainly. "I know that you've been through a lot tonight. I may not understand everything that's happened, but I want you to understand that as your mother, it's my job to protect you from what I can."
He looked at her, uncomprehending. She hadn't been one of the ones Nezu had told him knew about the deception. She hadn't really objected to his continued enrollment at UA. What could this possibly be about?
"Forgive me, Izuku, but my first priority is my operator's safety, as you know," said Lynchpin. "I may have been more proactive in pursuing that goal than you had intended, and as such, failed to notify you about a threat I detected. Instead, I chose to enlist your mother's aid in shielding you from even having to interact with the perceived threat in the first place. I fear that our efforts may have resulted, ultimately, in tonight's incident."
"Uhm, Lynch, what do you mean by all that?" Asked Izuku, absolutely done with everything that was happening right now.
"At the end of your first month of enrollment at UA, I detected an unusual amount of government traffic online concerning a quirkless student being enrolled at UA, and a desire to recruit that student into a special program. Tell me Izuku, are you familiar with the pro hero Hawks, and more specifically, with how he became a hero?"
Izuku sat in shocked silence, digesting what his mother and his undoubtedly sentient computer had just told him. The HPSC had tried to buy him from her, to raise him as some kind of figurehead that they could control to satisfy the public and their rage around inequality. It made him sick just to think about how they viewed him; not even human, a commodity to be traded and bartered for, and ultimately, one that they would have, no matter what. He wanted to cry more, but he was out of tears, so instead, he settled for leaning into his mother's hold, listening to her gentle reassurances that she would never let them take him from her, and Lynchpin's own statements concerning potential countermeasures.
He wanted to laugh at it all, at the idea of a future hero, at sixteen being held like a child by his mother, of the government effectively purchasing child soldiers as mercenaries in their quest to maintain control, at the idea of a villain who could steal quirks. At everything. He was just so, so tired. But still, he had more to do. He had to first tell his mother, and then, he had to start planning.
"Hey mom," he began, exhaustedly leaning into her hold a little more. "As long as we're telling each other everything right now, there's something else you need to know."
"Oh honey, whatever it is, we'll handle it. No matter what, you've got me, and your friends, and UA on your side. I promise, no one is going to hurt you."
"About that," he fidgeted, "this is kind of different. I guess you could say it's more like I finally have an explanation for an old wound now. The problem isn't mine, because it can't hurt me again."
"Oh baby," she said, resting her head on his shoulder. They were both out of tears now, it seemed. "What is it? How long have you been hurting?" He looked up at her and smiled, wanly.
"I guess it all really started around when I turned four," he began, pulling her even closer and hanging on for dear life. Held there, in a place of warmth and safety and comfort, the familiar kitchen filled with memories and the ghosts of pleasant meals and so much laughter, as he told his mother everything, the ever present ache in his heart didn't feel so terrible.
The conversation had gone better than he expected, and when his mother had told him that she believed him without him having even shown her a new scan of his foot, Izuku was reminded once again of just how wonderful his mother was. She had also promised to help him to protect his friends, as well as swearing that she would be looking out for her own safety too, something that had reassured him immensely. Now though, trudging back to school through the rain after their four day weekend, his thoughts were elsewhere.
Nezu had stopped by the apartment on Thursday and personally apologized to him, bowing and touching his head to the floor with such sincerity that Izuku had wanted to assure him that things were okay right then and there. But things weren't okay, and they wouldn't be for a while. The principal had promised a meeting with himself, Aizawa, All Might, and Mirio in the week after internships to explain everything, and Izuku had accepted, albeit hesitantly.
He had wanted answers immediately, and felt he was more than owed them. The delay did little to reassure him that the adults would be able to win back his trust, especially since it made it seem like they were simply buying time to come up with a new lie. Nezu had accepted that, but had insisted that they would only be using the time to guarantee they didn't expose Izuku to any more classified information than was directly related to him. Having Tsukauchi in the room at the time to confirm Nezu's statement had been enough to satisfy Izuku, but only barely. He couldn't be sure of Tsuakauchi's tells, after all, but after the rescue at the station, he figured he could give them some benefit of the doubt.
Now as he returned to school, he was ruminating on the fact that he could still see Nejire hovering around in the background, trying to be discreet within the cloud cover. Bakugo had needed to leave early that morning, and so he found himself walking alone with his umbrella, so long as he didn't count the unsubtle bodyguard. He couldn't say he didn't appreciate her presence though, after what had happened. He had woken up with nightmares every night since the attack, reliving both times the sludge had almost taken his life, and worse, his friends' lives, from him.
More than a few people had recognized him on the train, and he had gotten a wider berth than usual. Whether it was out of respect for his victory, or disdain for his quirklessness, he couldn't really say. Certainly the congratulations had been nice, and he had even been asked for a few autographs and pictures, but there had been sneers and dirty looks too. The number of both types of interactions had decreased in the days following the festival, thankfully, but today there had been a sudden resurgence.
His four days of rest had hardly been spent idle. With Nezu's permission he had been at UA alongside Mei, spending blood, sweat, tears, oil, and far too many power tools working on his major project, now that its need was much more apparent. Mei had been attacking the task with even more gusto than he had, and at the pace they were going, their newest technology would be ready for deployment by the time of the internships. It would be crucial to have it as an option in the field, after all.
"Midoriya," came the sudden shout, interrupting his thinking with the sound of rapidly increasing splashes. A yellow blur blitzed past Izuku, and he almost recoiled at the thought of coming face to face with All Might right then, especially in that suit of his. Thankfully, the blur resolved itself into a poncho clad Iida, fogged glasses almost slipping off his face as he circled around at a more manageable pace and came up before him, huffing. "Thank goodness you are alright! Tensei informed me of what happened on Wednesday, and you haven't been answering your phone. I was, we were, rather, very worried about you."
Izuku felt the unease dissipate immediately as Iida's uneasy face broke out into his patient smile, and he reached out with one arm to grasp Izuku by the shoulder. His friend took up place next to him under the umbrella as Izuku made room for him, and they resumed their walk to UA as Iida continued.
"I am truly glad to see you, my friend."
"Thanks, Iida-kun. I, it means a lot, to hear that. I get why you look up to Ingenium so much, by the way. He was really cool," said Izuku, just enjoying the company of someone he knew he could trust. He was one of the ones that he would definitely be gathering later, alongside Bakugo, Ochaco, Yaoyorozu, and probably Shinso.
If he was still in some kind of danger from the quirk thief, as the heroes' continued protection of him and their prior secrecy would seem to imply, then as those closest to him, the group needed to be warned first. He was unsure about telling Shinso, but if he was going to be friends with the boy, especially considering the sheer power of his quirk, then it would only be right to warn him.
"Midoriya-kun," said Iida, removing his poncho and rain boots as they reached the lockers. Izuku looked back at him, already in the process of folding away his umbrella, and raised him a questioning look. "If you ever need someone to talk to about anything, I would be more than glad to hear you out. Your friendship, although it certainly comes with some unorthodox characters, is very dear to me, and I do not wish to see you hurting."
Izuku glanced around then, making sure they were out of earshot of anyone else that might be listening in. Besides principal Nezu who heard and saw everything, but who also wasn't really in a position to stop him right now, there was very little chance of being overheard.
"Iida-kun, there is...something. But I can't talk about it right now, not here. I'm going to ask the others later, but at some point this week, I want you guys to come by my lab so we can talk about it together, okay?"
"Ah, Bakugo, Uraraka, Yaoyorozu, and Hatsume will be joining us, I take it? And Togata-senpai, Hado-senpai, and Amajiki-senpai as well?" Izuku's expression darkened, and Iida stepped back in surprise.
"Not them, I take it?"
"No, not them."
The rest of the walk to class and homeroom passed in relative quiet, Aizawa announcing their internships properly, and the breakdown of the numbers of requests they all got. Surprisingly, or perhaps not for Izuku, Bakugo had a majority of the requests in their class, followed by Todoroki who wasn't glaring for once, then followed up by Ochaco and then by Izuku himself. The tumult that followed the results being seemingly inverted from their standings reassured him a bit that at least his classmates weren't as biased as the rest of the world, but like all the other little insults and injustices that had been following him, it still stung.
"Listen up," demanded Aizawa, his usual monotone not sounding as reassuring to Izuku as it once had. He had yet to meet his teacher's eyes the entire morning. "Even if you weren't explicitly scouted by a pro, we've got a list of forty agencies and heroes who will be willing to take any of you on, so everyone will be getting in some work experience. That said, you can't work in the field without some kind of moniker, both for public relations purposes, and because it's something of a culture around heroics. So today Midnight will be helping you pick your hero names."
"Aw, way to spoil an entrance," pouted Kayama-sensei, swaying her way into the room. She grinned at the class, and gave a particularly warm look to Izuku, who was able to return it without blushing madly. "Like Eraser here just said, hero names are important to working in the field, and more than one pro has gotten stuck forever with the name they first debuted under. Which is why I'll be here to make sure no particularly inappropriate names make it through," she finished with a wink.
"Think about the image you're trying to project when you choose your hero name," said Aizawa, already halfway through zipping himself into his sleeping bag. Izuku felt a pang of something at the sight, remembering a green bag of his own and the taste of jelly packets from what felt like a lifetime ago. "Your names will reflect your character. All I can say is choose wisely," he gave the class a rare, genuinely fond smile, small as it was, "and whatever you do, don't let Yamada-sensei choose your name for you."
"Right then," cheered Midnight, recapturing their attention and handing out whiteboards and markers. "Let's get started!"
The names flowed pretty freely, and fairly easily. Ochaco's bubbly Uravity perfectly captured the uplifting attitude she brought to everything. Iida's name of Celeritas was apparently a placeholder until his brother retired, at which point he would become Ingenium. It seemed like a nice thing, to have a legacy like that. Bakugo settled for Ground Zero, and Izuku was only slightly disappointed that he hadn't at least attempted to get Lord Explosion Murder like he had wanted when they were younger. Yaoyorozu's Creati was apt enough, though Izuku would have gone for something more broad.
The rest all had good names, though poor Mina had been forced to settle for Pinky after Alien Queen was rejected. That wasn't very fair, in his mind, especially since the movies were public domain at that point, but there were other things on his mind. His own turn was coming up, and he needed to write something down quickly, seeing as it was down to him and Aoyama, who was refining his original title into something that was less of a mouthful.
Deku, as ironic as it would have been, was right out, as was something more obvious like Ferrus, though maybe something dealing with metal would be appropriate? Iron Man just sounded silly and a bit too simple, especially with both a Tailman and a Sugarman in the class already. One of the names from when he was younger maybe? No, even discounting the slightly sick feeling he got when thinking of All Might at the moment, they just wouldn't work. All Might Jr, Mighty Boy, none of those really described him. He had considered LeBillion, but even putting aside his hurt, neither he nor Mirio would benefit from him becoming a copy of his...big brother.
Yes, Mirio was still his brother in all but blood, even though he had lied and betrayed his trust, and even though Izuku didn't want to talk to him again just yet. There was no way all the moments they had shared had just been a front Mirio put up in pursuit of some hidden objective. There was no way he was just some assignment to the older boy, a mere person of interest that had been unlucky enough to be assaulted by some powerful villain.
Mirio had done so much more for him than that role would have required of the boy. Besides, he had seemed genuinely surprised, no, horrified, when Izuku had first told him his fears and his theory about his quirk. That had been on the birthday that they shared no less, all that time ago, he reflected bitterly. They had known each other too long, had too many heart to hearts for him to have been faking it all along.
Still, that left Izuku with the prospect of coming up with a name and no real sources of inspiration to draw from. But was that true? What about his friends, and what they thought of him? What about Ochaco, who had told him he could do anything when they had talked at the festival? Or what she had thought his nickname originally meant? Yeah, that could work. It had a bit of the irony from using the old name, and it helped him to hear it with the same feeling that Ochaco and Bakugo seemed to. Plus, if the public ever tried to resort to using the old nickname against him, then he'd have already taken it back, sort of.
Smiling with a quiet kind of determination, he wrote out the name and the epitaph on the whiteboard and stood when Midnight motioned him forward. There would be things to do later; he had to clue in his friends to the new situation, he had to pick his internship, and he had to finish the work on his project with Mei. Then, there was the conversation to come with all the people who had lied to him after the internships were concluded. So many weights that would pile up in the immediate future, but at least with this one problem lifted from his shoulders, he'd have a name to face the rest of his issues with.
"I didn't think I could come up with a good name to describe what I want to be, the image I want to have," he began with confidence, back straight, eyes shining, and a warmth blooming in his chest. "But then I remembered how I could look at things in a different way, after my friends helped me to find a new meaning in something that used to hurt." He swept his gaze over the room, first locking eyes with Bakugo, who grinned wickedly, and then for far longer with Ochaco, whose cheeks were dusted even brighter pink than usual. Smiling, because everything would eventually be okay, even if he had to be the one to make it all alright himself, he flipped his whiteboard over.
"I will be the hero that gives his everything: Dekiru, the Fullmetal Hero!"