Chapter 4: Those They Left Behind
Izuku's experience with Momo was strange. It was like there was something she wanted to say, silent words on moving lips that screamed at him. It wasn't the feeling that she was hiding something as much as she was wondering how to approach him, and he was more than happy to let her go at her own pace.
Maybe, he pondered, she could see what he saw when watching Nezuko-sensei's dance. She gave no indication, but the way her eyes looked when he used his Breath made him wonder.
His mother was once more not in town. Lately, her trips had been less week-long and more day-on-day-off, and the urgency seemed to make it impossible for her to give him a heads up. He would come home and realize she was gone if the lights were out.
So today after school, he went to Nezuko's place. They sat in the kitchen, drinking tea as they chatted about his first day.
"It seems there are a lot of interesting people in your class," Nezuko said, hiding a laugh behind her sleeve. "Still, to just skip orientation. I suppose the eccentricity of the U.A. staff hasn't changed one bit."
"You know them?"
"You hear things when you're around a long time, especially when you have contacts," Nezuko said. "You didn't think me some recluse who never talks to people, did you, Izuku-kun?"
"Contacts?" Izuku asked, dodging the question he might have answered with a severe case of foot-in-mouth disease.
"The family I hired to forge your swords," Nezuko said, smiling. "They're descendants of the people who made the swords for the Demon Slayer Corps, some of their family members are heroes. They have a daughter your age."
Izuku blinked, the dots connecting in the back of his mind as he considered the implications. He knew that the Yaoyorozu family was rich, and that they were hero-adjacent, at the very least. While her family wasn't quite as attached to the heroic pedigree as Iida's family was, there were few people who didn't know pro-heroes Utility and Thunderclap were related to them.
"Momo Yaoyorozu asked me to teach her how to use a sword," Izuku said. He could have sworn that a smile crept up to Nezuko's lips as she took a sip from her cup of tea. "I said I'd have to ask my master first. You knew she would ask."
"You don't want to?" she asked. Izuku pouted.
"It's not that I don't want to," Izuku said, mumbling the last few words. He folded his hands over his lap. "I don't think I'm that good of a teacher anyway, I can barely do a full dance before I run out of breath, too."
"I would have said the same about myself," Nezuko said. Izuku frowned, wondering whether such platitudes were necessary. "I've learned a lot about myself teaching people, and I would say I am better off having taught you than I was before. In a way, to tutor someone is something commendable by itself. It gives you a certain peace that you would not otherwise be able to achieve."
"Peace?" Izuku asked, tilting his head. The tea in front of him was barely warm anymore.
"To know that you passed something on. To leave something behind."
"You say that like you're not immortal," Izuku said, half-joking. Nezuko closed her eyes, sighing.
"I suppose that's true," Nezuko said, putting a hand over her chest. "O woe is me, I shall forever remain a beauty in her prime."
Izuku gave her a flat stare, waiting for the joke to run its course before continuing. There was still the other matter to discuss.
"There's something else," Izuku said, fumbling with the hem of the overcoat he now wore for training. "My teacher, he knew what Nichirin blades were."
Now that he knew that Momo knew from her family, he at least had an angle instead of suspicion, but that still left his teacher's intentions unclear.
"He also knows I don't have a quirk," Izuku continued, the words leaving his lips rushed.
"I promise you, Izuku," Nezuko said, smiling with her eyes closed still. "By now half your teachers know you don't, including the principal. It's not like we are keeping secrets about it, the only secret I want you to keep is about me."
The demon Nezuko, born somewhere in the 19th century. He would have guessed her older, if he was being honest, but that one story she told him about the train-
"How'd he know, then?" Izuku asked. He didn't like going in with no information. The fact that his teachers were already aware of his deception and hadn't expelled him on the first day was something he could put aside, in the end he had passed the tests and the how mattered little in the grand scheme of things.
"If someone knows about the Nichirin Blades, it would be those they left behind," Nezuko reasoned, a cup of tea in front of her. "Not the smiths, but the other demon slayers."
"Aizawa-sensei is a descendant?" Izuku asked. "Why isn't he using a Breath then?"
"To them, the period of war was over," Nezuko said. "Many of them could not lift a sword again, and the pains that they have gone through made it hard to justify to let their children carry that burden of steel."
"Whose descendant?" Izuku found himself asking. He had seen the dusty photograph of those who were left behind.
"Three hundred years is a long time, Izuku-kun," Nezuko said, her fingernail drawing a small line on the table. "It would be impossible to tell. The smiths were easy to track down, but I haven't been following around the others."
He could see why.
The image of them aging and dying as she stood immortal, it was not something he would wish on his worst enemy.
"For what it's worth, if you find someone who is using a Breath as well, tell me," Nezuko said. The sad smile from earlier was replaced by a genuine bright one. "It would be interesting to see how they have developed, those children and their children still."
When he had told Momo that his master gave him permission to teach her as much as he could, she looked even more excited than she did last time. It was around lunchtime, which caused the already high-strung and hungry class, ready for their first heroics lesson, to stare at them. Avoiding the attention of the others, Izuku had dragged Momo out, Uraraka and Iida coming along as they moved towards the cafeteria.
"How'd you two become friends?" Uraraka asked Momo as they stood in line. Izuku wasn't sure friends was the right word for people who only really had met just a day ago, but the word gave him a warm feeling in his chest, so it had to be right. What else would you call classmates you went to eat lunch with?
"I asked him to teach me," Momo said. Iida adjusted his glasses, looking over them with a raised eyebrow.
"Teach you?" Iida asked. "What would a scion of the Yaoyorozu household need to learn?"
After a second, Iida turned to Izuku with what could only be described as an embarrassed expression.
"I apologize, I don't mean any offense-"
"It's fine," Izuku said, waving him off. He had asked the same question after all, but if Momo was aware of the Nichirin blades to her family, she would know about Breaths, so he had his answers and that was all he needed. "She wanted to learn how to use a sword like me."
"Isn't that quirk related?" Iida asked, causing Uraraka to nod. The reasoning would make sense, of course.
"My… quirk," Izuku said slowly, watching as Momo looked away in guilt of knowing a secret she shouldn't, "is enhancing my body by drawing in oxygen. It makes me faster and stronger, but not durable."
"So you need to channel it into something to avoid breaking your bones?" Iida concluded. Izuku nodded. It wasn't a lie, not a total one at least, he was certain that punching a person with the Breath would be effective, but a robot? Not so much. "What about your sword changing color?"
"That's the metal," Momo said suddenly. She blinked when the eyes turned to her. "I mean, it's… a special metal, I heard about. It changes in color when exposed to body temperatures."
"Yes," Izuku said, nodding. It was better to just get it out of the way. "My teacher said she requested your family make it."
"Swordsmithing is a traditional and honorable art," Iida said, nodding. "I didn't know your family also did such a thing, the Yaoyorozu family is truly full of surprises."
"You knew?" Momo asked, blinking. "Did your, err, you master tell you?"
Izuku simply smiled. The tension in Momo's shoulders had vanished. They had grabbed the food that Lunch Rush had prepared, moving towards a free table.
"Hey, Midoriya-kun," Momo said as they were seated, a rather surprisingly large plate in front of her. "I was curious about something."
"Yeah?" Izuku asked after swallowing his food.
"Isn't your mom Inko Midoriya?" Momo asked. Izuku coughed, choking on grains of rice. Left breathless at the mention of his mother's name, he cast an appreciative glance towards Uraraka, who was hitting his back in an attempt to help him. "S-sorry, I asked something I shouldn't have-"
"N-no," Izuku said, coughing a few more times and grabbing the glass of water next to him. Taking a large gulp of it, he sighed, trying to regain his bearings. "I was just surprised, our name isn't really that uncommon, so-"
"It was just," Momo said, putting her finger on her chin. "My mom mentioned her once. She used to be a researcher at Todai, right? The biology department."
"She was a what now?" Izuku asked, his voice slightly higher pitched than he would have liked. Momo noted his reaction with a frown.
"You didn't know?" she asked. Iida hummed.
"I seem to recall hearing about that," Iida said, crossing his arms. His plate was already empty. He pulled out his phone, typing something in. After a moment, he raised an eyebrow. "Or maybe I was mistaken. There's no entry about Inko Midoriya. Not even someone with a similar name."
That by itself was weird. Izuku knew that usually, regardless of the name you type in, some results should be there-
Shaking his head, he resolved to ask his mother when she was in town next. Trips to a lab for research would make sense, but then she wouldn't have been so secretive about it, would she?
"My mother's a very private person," Izuku said, bowing his head slightly. "She's also very busy and not in town a lot. My master is taking care of me when that is the case."
"I'm sorry," Momo said, looking away. She seemed more upset about it than she should be. "I shouldn't have pried."
"It's fine," Izuku said, slightly red from the coughing fit. The food was still not done, and lunch would be over soon. "
All Might came in walking through the door with a bright smile and a loud voice. Izuku, as dazed and awed as everyone else, couldn't help but smile at the image of his idol approaching as a teacher who promised them greatness.
"Welcome to your first Heroics class!" All Might said, his voice booming with anticipation and satisfaction alike. "Your costume designs have been approved and finished by now. We have a simulation joint prepared for today's lesson, so let's get you to the changing rooms!"
"Isn't that what you wore during the entrance exam?" Iida asked. Izuku nodded, putting the uniform on and the overcoat kimono on top of it.
"My master made it for me," Izuku said, his hand coming up to the earrings. "She also gave me these. It's supposed to be traditional."
"It certainly looks like it," Iida said, nodding in approval. "It might not make for a very modern look, but it has something noble about it. Early twentieth century."
"It's surprisingly comfortable to move in, and I need a good range of motion for my style," Izuku said, jumping a few times in the same spot, making sure the sheath was properly attached. "Your costume looks nice, too. Similar to your brother's, isn't it?"
"Yes," Iida noted, lifting a leg and moving it back and forth. "It's a design he perfected, it helps a lot with the usual issues our quirks have."
Bakugou, who had dressed looking like he was going to blow up a mall, pushed past them with a scowl. Kirishima, who was the only person who seemed to get along with Bakugou for any longer than five minutes, followed after him with a nod towards Izuku and Iida.
Once they were all gathered, and people gave each other various compliments over their costumes, All Might explained the rules. It wasn't a very difficult concept, they had a whole building for themselves, two villains and two heroes would try to take each other out, time out a bomb or try to capture it.
It was the rather transparent attempt by All Might, who had no doubt realized that there was bad blood between Izuku and Bakugou, had decided that they would oppose each other.
"Uraraka and Midoriya," All Might announced the team. "Heroes. Your opponents shall be Bakugou and Iida."
Izuku bit his lip, trying to ignore the glare as Uraraka and Iida gave each other thumbs up.
The setup took only a few moments. Bakugou and Iida entered the building while Uraraka and he were standing outside. All Might's encouragement in their ears was not enough to make Izuku's high-strung nervosity about the upcoming and inevitable fight any less bothersome.
"Hero team," All Might's voice came from the comms. "You may enter now."
They did, together, and it did not take more than a few steps inside to find Bakugou waiting in the hallway, looking all too happy to have found his prey. Izuku drew his sword.
"You go ahead," Izuku said. Uraraka hesitated. "He's after me, and this is a long time coming. Please, go."
She nodded, running down to the right and out of sight. Izuku
"I told you," Bakugou said. "You stand between me and the top, you'll get crushed. A loser like you has no place in a school like this."
"Neither does a punk who treats other people like stepping stones," Izuku said, his voice even. A normal breath to calm his nerves. A proper Breath to calm the world.
He made the first step. The sword shone in an eerie dark green, almost black in the dark hallway, and the step forward saw it swinging back and forth.
The Striking Tide was dodged. Bakugou jumped above it, then behind him with a small explosion. He landed fast, swinging at him with his right fist, but Izuku was prepared. Reversing his grip on the hilt, he slammed it upwards and behind him, into Bakugou's fist.
The boy grunted in pain, using the momentum to go for an explosion from his left hand. Having had enough tie to turn around, Izuku found himself crouching under the relatively benign explosion and stabbed.
Bakugou was hit in the stomach, sent back from the blunt tip. He had to hold back somewhat, even a blunt sword would be able to pierce if he went all out, and if it did not pierce, organ damage would be something difficult to fix as well.
Bakugou spat, the wind knocked out of him, saliva and bits of blood from where the boy had bit his lip suddenly were on the ground.
"You useless piece of shit," Bakugou howled. "A quirkless loser like you, striking me? Are you high on trigger, you fucking retard?"
When Bakugou attacked again, Izuku did not breathe. He danced.
The intent of the Breath was to imitate the original, Nezuko had once explained. The original was more akin to a dance. The Breath of Water could dance too. To move one motion into the next, to take one form and improve on it as you move into another. Izuku dodged swipes and explosions, striking every time. His breath was running short, but he was still not as exhausted as Bakugou was, both their ears no doubt ringing from the constant sound pollution.
Bakugou deflected the swing of the Eight Form from above, driving his fist deeply into Izuku's stomach. He released the breath, and Bakugou used that to his advantage. He could see that the stance was weakening.
Izuku swung the sword without a Breath. Unconcerned, Bakugou grabbed it with one hand, stopping the swing with only a slight wince at the impact.
"You're nothing," Bakugou said, scowling through a ferocious and hostile grin. "A useless kid playing with a stick."
Bakugou's hand exploded into flashes of light, attempting to break the Nichirin blade. For one moment, Izuku thought the boy might succeed. But the heat ended up doing something else.
The dark green metal flickered into a brutal bright red. Izuku could feel the touch of the sun on his face. The second dance that Nezuko had never taught him was still an unknown to him, but-
He breathed. And with it came the zone.
And with the zone came the Dead Calm.
Bakugou, noticing that the sword was not breaking, used another explosion to knock Izuku backwards. Sliding across the hall with the soles of his feet refusing to move off the ground, Izuku lowered his arm, the sword aimed to the side, leaving himself wide open, as if he were too exhausted to continue.
Bakugou took the bait.
He could feel it. Somehow, the superheated blade, blunt as it was, was not just receiving power from him but giving some back.
It shone like the dawn in the harsh, dark hallway of the test building.
Watching as the boy in front of him rocketed forward, ready to end the fight with a brutal attack, Izuku stepped aside. Bakugou passed him, but used an explosion to turn the miss into a savage roundhouse kick.
Only to meet the Nichirin blade, causing a brutal and very audible crack to echo through the empty hall.
Bakugou fell, screaming in pain rather than frustration as he cradled his leg. "You fucking-"
"Stay down," Izuku ordered, putting the sword back into its sheath as he walked down the hall. He had to get back to Uraraka and help her. Another grunt made him turn around. Bakugou had put himself up against the wall, his destroyed leg limply hanging to the side.
He was taking aim.
"I had these prepared," Bakugou said. There was static in their ears. All Might's voice shouting to Bakugou to stand down, but that wasn't him. That was never him. Izuku could hear nothing more than the blood rushing through his ears. "HE WON'T DIE IF HE DODGES!"
Izuku took a breath.
And the world in front of him turned into fire.
All Might appeared in front of him, grabbing Izuku faster than the boy could draw his sword, before jumping out. The considerable distance from which All Might had crashed through the observation booth and into the test building was a testament of the man's powerful quirk and prowess, as well as his quick thinking.
Izuku was still on All Might's shoulder when the ringing in his ears stopped. His vision cleared, only to find Bakugou held by the collar of his shirt like a kitten by its mother. All Might lifted him up, clearly frustrated with the insubordination. "Disqualified."
For once in his life, Bakugou said nothing.
It was likely the smartest thing he had ever done.
Chapter 5: The Dance of the Fire God
AN: No worries about me burning out. I'm always burnt out.
"Katsuki Bakugou," Principal Nezu said, smiling as his small paws were folded under his muzzle. Aizawa stood against the wall at the back of the office, having decided to stay out of the conversation. "I would like for you to explain something to me."
Bakugou looked up. His mother sat besides him, and furious would not even begin to describe her expression. If Bakugou thought that he had a scowl that would make a villain run for the hills, he should take a few lessons from his mother.
"If a teacher tells a student 'do not use this potentially lethal attack', especially in a confined building," Nezu continued, noting the reaction from the two. Bakugou flinched at the reminder, and his mother glared at him with an intensity that could swallow the sun. "And their response is not just to do it anyway, but to, as I heard it from All Might, shout that 'as long as they dodge, it should be fine'. What kind of punishment would you give that student?"
All Might had already chewed him out. He had, without any mincing of his words, made it clear that such a behavior was not just 'unheroic' but outright villainous. That the force of the explosion, powerful enough to burn through his glove and burn his own hand, would likely have caused severe injuries towards his opponent, where if he had decided not to dodge, it might have been too late to heal him without significant scars.
Which was why Nezu was approaching this at a different angle.
"Expulsion."
Bakugou's words were laced with fear. That wouldn't do, of course. There was no use in letting someone like this run rampant outside without proper guidance, but that didn't mean his actions could be left alone without consequences. Losing a match and being chewed out by the number one hero wasn't adequate.
Nezu had initially doubted All Might's capability as a teacher. There was a certain pedagogy involved, the science of educating was more complicated than simply being a hero, but the man had ended up surpassing himself. While Izuku Midoriya had ended up knocking him down and not capturing him, those were judgement calls that they had to learn later
"As All Might stepped in, and no one came to serious harm," Nezu said, putting an emphasis on the last two words. His leg was healed by Recovery Girl, of course. A broken bone so clean that it took the woman not one minute. "The staff has decided to put you on probation."
Nezu pushed forward a few papers, letting Bakugou's mother give them a once over.
"In summary, as I'm sure you have more important things to do," Nezu said. "Under these terms, Katsuki Bakugou shall be demoted to the general studies course for a period of six month, in which his behavior will be evaluated."
Nezu knew kids with attitude problems. Endeavor went to this school when he started as the principal. He knew that Bakugou would stand up in anger, ready to shout something. And as Bakugou did, his mouth opening wide, the boy's mother to smack him over the head-
He shut up. His mouth closing with a click of his teeth. Mitsuki Bakugou had the pen in hand and signed the papers without a moment's hesitation.
"You will report to Ectoplasm's class, 1-C, tomorrow morning," Nezu said. Bakugou nodded, leaving the room. Mitsuki lowered her head.
"I apologize for my stupid son's behavior," she said through clenched teeth. "It's my failure as a mother."
"I'm a believer that only half of a person's personality is formed at home, Bakugou-san," Nezu said, taking the papers as she pushed them over. "The other half is the people we surround ourselves with, as well as the schools. It's not about where we grew up, it's about where we decide to go from there."
"The boy he hurt, tried to hurt," Mitsuki corrected herself quickly. "Little Izuku, right?"
"Yes. You know him." It wasn't a question. She nodded.
"Him and Katsuki, they used to be friends," Mitsuki said, her gaze still on the table. "It started early, I should have seen something was wrong when he stopped coming home. It makes me feel inadequate as a mother."
Nezu had no real words of comfort. Rather, he let the silence speak for itself, watching as the woman stood up and bowed once more, leaving the office.
Aizawa's head was lowered, his arms crossed and his finger tapping against his. Nezu knew that if the man was looking straight at him, he would find a twitching eyebrow.
"You don't like my decision," Nezu said. They had this conversation before, but the discussion about it before and the discussion about it after the fact were different. Aizawa was never one to mince words, and even his begrudging respect towards Nezu was not something that came unconditionally.
"I don't like it, but I don't think it's bad," Aizawa said. "I still think seeking a transfer to Shiketsu would have been better. He's treading a thin line for someone who just started three days ago."
"We've seen how this goes in even more strict schools," Nezu said, leaning back into his chair. "It's too easy for punks to decide that they could become villains instead if the heroes wouldn't have them, even now there's a staggering amount of people who fail the entrance exam and go on to do just that."
"We were lucky, honestly," Aizawa said, muttering under his breath. Nezu's head tilted slightly, as if angling his ear better towards Aizawa. "If we had to tell Midoriya's mother about her son being injured by what we now know is his childhood bully, we'd be in deep shit."
"She doesn't work for the government anymore."
"You think that'd stop her?"
Nezu hesitated for a moment. His soft smile shifted into a deep frown as his eyes clouded over. "Probably not."
"The first lesson," Izuku said, raising a finger in what he would consider a mimicry of Nezuko's teaching style, "was the most difficult."
He handed her the blunt sword. She could have made her own, but with how she had explained her quirk worked, he wanted to go about it the same way that Nezuko had. She pulled it out of the sheath. Rather than take the usual dark green-to-black color that it took in his hands, the blade was plain, in the color of iron.
She looked disappointed for a moment.
"Nezuko-sensei told me to swing the sword until I couldn't anymore," Izuku said.
They stood in one of the gyms they were permitted to use after school.
"Until you couldn't?" Momo asked for clarification. Izuku nodded.
"I don't mean until I was too tired to continue," Izuku said. "She said she wanted to see how much I could do, which wasn't much at twelve years, but until I could do one hundred swings with the sword, she wouldn't teach me anything else."
One hundred sounded relatively little, but for someone of his stature and fitness back in the day it was a lot. Now, he could swing the entire day through, but there was still the matter of Momo's own constitution. She was certainly fit, her quirk likely demanded a lot of her, but the kinds of muscles she wanted for the sword were not there yet.
So she swung. From the top to the bottom, a solid swing he had to only slightly help fix a few times until she had it down. Her stature, taller than him, had fewer troubles to swing it than he did years ago.
And yet, after swing thirty, she lost the proper form. After swing fourty, she took a bit longer to raise the sword.
After swing fifty, she made an audible grunt every time she lifted the sword.
Fifty-four, she stopped.
The sword was not light, but that was little concern. A roll of newspaper would start to feel like lead in your hands when you had to hold it up again and again. Despite that, she looked disappointed in herself.
Izuku took the sword from her hands as she nursed her arms, a small sweat on her brow.
"I barely managed twenty when I started," Izuku said. The words had their intended effect, and the disappointed exhaustion became a content smile dancing on her lips. "Tomorrow you'll do more, and the day afterwards you'll do even more than that. You'll be at one-hundred in no time."
"You make it look so easy," Momo said, sitting down for a moment. "I heard that the Nichirin blade only changes color in the hands of a skilled swordsman. I guess that's true."
He wanted to assure her that she would be at that level sooner rather than later, but as he had taken it from her, the color had changed back into its usual dark green and she sighed.
"What else did she teach you when you couldn't raise your arms?" she asked. Izuku sat down as well, the seiza position that he had long since gotten used to becoming something of a second nature to him.
"We talked a lot," he admitted, returning the blunt Nichirin blade into the sheath. "She told me a lot of stories about what she learned and the people she learned things from."
"You like her a lot, don't you?" Momo asked. The question didn't come out of nowhere, but Izuku still found himself spluttering and unable to form words for a moment.
"She's… yeah," Izuku said eventually. Momo nodded slowly, as if she wanted to add something but waited for him to elaborate. "It's like I have two moms, really. She practically raised me whenever my mother wasn't around."
It's only been three years since that fateful day she began teaching him, and yet he could not deny that in some ways, Nezuko had been there for him during troublesome times when his mother hasn't.
"Ah," Momo said. Izuku blinked as she flushed slightly. Perhaps she was more exhausted than he thought, or her unique biology did more than either of them knew. "So… stories?"
"You… errr, you know about Nichirin blades, so you know about the origins of the Breaths, right?" Izuku asked. Momo nodded, faster this time.
"The basics at least, it's something of a family secret. Being able to talk to someone about it is incredibly exciting!"
He laughed softly, crossing his arms. "Alright, so she told me that she knows the basics of practically every Breath style, enough that she should be able to teach them. But she says she's also kind of unique in that regard, her family has the, err…"
He struggled with the word, blinking for a moment. It has been a while since she had mentioned it. It was one of the first lessons when she said that the Breath of Water would be best to learn to begin with.
"Disposition," Izuku said, glad he was able to find the word again in the back of his mind. "The disposition of the Sun God."
"Sun God?" Momo asked. Izuku nodded, cradling his chin between thumb and index finger.
"That's what she called it, it's something unique to their family that lets them learn the original Breath, which all other styles are derived from."
"So I might not have the, the disposition?" Momo asked. "To learn the same as you?"
"I don't know," Izuku admitted. "Until you get to the level where I can teach you as she taught me, we won't know how well you're doing. She did tell me I'm probably too rigid for Water but I still managed to learn it."
"Didn't she offer something else?"
"She did," Izuku said, remembering her demonstrations. "But this one looked the most beautiful."
She once had called his single-mindedness a virtue. His mother called it a Midoriya-level stubbornness. He was satisfied with either.
Momo stood again, a bit too fast to the point that she almost tripped over herself. Standing quickly, Izuku put a hand on her shoulder, helping her keep upright for a few moments as she regained her bearings.
Thanking him, she took a step back and raised her hand. "The sword please."
He gave it to her. And she continued her swings until it was time to go home.
Izuku sat at Nezuko's table, as usual. She had prepared some tea, as it was too early for dinner yet.
"How is she doing?" Nezuko asked.
"She's eager to learn and fit from her previous training, she'll be ready in no time." Izuku answered. "It makes me kind of jealous."
"I imagine previous weapon training and the knowledge of her family might have helped her prepare, but the speed of one's learning does not make for an easy mastery," Nezuko said, taking a sip of the tea. "Her quirk might hinder her, or aid her, but in the end what matters is her dedication and goal."
"Like my goal of being a hero?" Izuku asked. Nezuko shook her head.
"That's your dream. Your goal is something I can't fathom to understand. It's something personal, which you have already explained to me more times than I counted it happen."
"To dance like you," Izuku mumbled, his ears slightly red.
"I've told you, I am not a swordswoman or a dancer," she said. "Like that artist, Yushiro Yamamoto, I am one who immortalizes a legacy through the blade. I reckon that you will one day do the same for me."
"Why aren't more people around using Breaths?"
"When we fought the original demon, Muzan, we had done so with the intention of dying if it meant that we could defeat him."
Izuku swallowed the lump in his throat. The words bore heavily onto his shoulders. "But you're alive. You showed me the photograph, they all were."
"Because the one who killed him was me," Nezuko said, smiling. "With the help of my brother, and with a sacrifice that he would forever curse me for. Do you really want to know this story? It's not a very kind one, and certainly not as funny as the ones about the Pillars."
"I want to know everything," Izuku admitted. "Even the parts that aren't kind or funny."
Nezuko nodded, and the silence stretched on as she looked for a place to start. She had always sworn him to secrecy, but this time she did not begin with that promise.
"Muzan was cultivating demons to find a way to cure his biggest weakness," Nezuko said. "The sun would burn him, like any demon, and that was something he couldn't let go. One day, the demon that would surpass sunlight was born."
"You," Izuku said. He heard the story from another angle before, from how Nezuko could walk in the sun. "He wanted you?"
"To devour me, see why I was immune. The researchers afterwards would assume that it was the disposition of the Sun God. I assumed it was simply the fact that I had never eaten a person until my body adapted to it."
"Demons eat people, demons die in the sun, therefore a demon that refuses to eat people would not burn?"
"That was my idea, but we couldn't find a consensus. The why feels irrelevant, but in the end it gave us ample opportunity to destroy Muzan. He would home in on me, the Demon Slayers could gather and attack him together, maybe we would be lucky enough and someone manages to land the final blow. Everyone was prepared to lay down their lives, as I was being prepared to take a prototype medicine to turn me back human."
"But…"
"The medicine worked," Nezuko said, interrupting him. "I would have to suppress the demonic blood as long as possible to prevent antibodies from destroying it, but then I could feel it. Pain, suffering, death, decay, screaming."
The words were emphasized with a finger tapping onto the table. Izuku flinched slightly.
"I burned the medicine out of my body as I rushed to help. My blood turned all the blades crimson, we fought, and we fought, and we fought, and we lost."
"Y-you lost?" Izuku asked, a shiver in his voice.
"The demons captured me, or perhaps it would be more accurate to say that I gave up myself to prevent any further bloodshed. Muzan tried to devour me."
She clenched a fist as the memory resurfaced. Izuku could have sworn he saw a small bulge form on her forehead, almost like a horn was threatening to pierce through the skin.
"So I did what he did," Nezuko said. "Constant regeneration, I produced more blood than should be possible, I ripped myself to shreds and I exploded."
The words left Izuku without any of his own. The room became deadly quiet, and cold. Nezuko, who wore either tragically beautiful smiles or bright smiles that rivaled the sun, was looking at her hands like she was remembering the worst day of her life. Izuku reached out, not hesitating as he put his hand above hers. Her skin felt boiling, but he did not let go.
Her expression softened, and so did the temperature of her skin.
"In the end, when that monster that Muzan and I had become touched the sunlight, he kept burning. I fell asleep for… a few years. When I woke up, I was still a demon, and Muzan was gone."
And yet, as triumphant as those words should sound, Izuku could see her shaking. He wanted to stop her from continuing, but she turned her hand, squeezing his.
"I gave up my chance to become a human in exchange for their lives," Nezuko said, once again smiling. "So that they may have the lives I could not, I would wander the world for a thousand years. The Demon Slayer Corps, alive. Muzan, defeated. Nezuko Kamado, a demon until the end of days."
"Do you regret it?" Izuku asked before he could stop himself. Nezuko's smile widened.
"Every day." She let go of his hand, pulling back as she stood from the seat, taking the empty cup of tea to the sink. "And yet, until the day that a blade that can surpass sunlight is created and I can join them, I must pass on what they have taught me."
"You once said that demons can only die to two things," Izuku said, frowning into his own empty cup. "If not sunlight, it would be the Nichirin blades. But you walk around in the sun because you're special. Does that mean Nichirin blades can't kill you, either?"
"No, it can't," Nezuko said. Izuku wasn't sure he wanted to know how she knew that. "I told Momo-chan's parents about your training. Once you think she's ready, call her over, alright?"
Izuku sat in the classroom, the seat to his right empty.
"Alright," Aizawa-sensei said, standing at the podium and looking over the now slightly more empty class. "Settle down for one minute, as you might've guessed already, Katsuki Bakugou is being punished for his misdemeanor during the training exercise. As of today, he will be transferred to the Gen Ed department on probation for six months."
This caused the class to erupt into talks. Izuku could feel the glances towards him. Trying to avoid the gazes saw him instead meeting the eyes of Kirishima, who looked almost apologetic about the whole thing.
"Due to already having a vacant seat, I've taken the liberty of choosing a 1-C student to transfer here on a trial basis," Aizawa continued after the class quieted down again. "Come in."
A boy walked in, with bags under his eyes that could rival Aizawa's. His hair, indigo and wildly pointing into every direction, bobbed up and down as he bowed to the class.
"I am Hitoshi Shinsou," he said. Izuku could have sworn he heard glee in the boy's voice. "Please take care of me."
"Welcome," Izuku found himself saying. Hitoshi took the free seat next to Izuku, giving the boy an appreciative nod.
"Now that we're all seated and quiet," Aizawa-sensei said, glaring at the loudest corner with Mina Aishido and co. "We're going to choose two class reps. And by we I mean you."
The class exploded into chatter once more. Izuku lowered his head, sighing.
Chapter 6: The Hum of Life
Izuku sat in a park with his friends. The weather was comfortable, but despite that the amount of people in the park was reasonably small. They had a longer free period due to one of their teachers having been called away, and while free studies usually gave them time to do homework or other tasks, Uraraka had convinced them to get some fresh air. They took their things to a nearby park, much to Iida's initial annoyance and eventual acceptance.
Some of their classmates were there as well, more than happy to use the weather to play around and relax than study. Izuku had to stop the freshly minted class rep from walking over and giving them a stern talking.
"It's fine, Iida-kun," Izuku said, smiling. "The weather is beautiful and it's too early in the school year to say that they're behind in their studies, right?"
"Hmph," Iida said, sitting down on the sheet next to Izuku. Their notebooks were neatly arranged in a square. Momo herself had taken the opportunity to stand up and stretch, Uraraka joining her halfway through.
"It's a lot of homework considering how few classes we actually had," Momo admitted. Izuku tried not to stare at the girls during their stretches, instead focusing on the papers ahead of him. "But we'll have more heroics classes soon, right?"
"A small trip was planned, yes," Iida said. "But I'm not sure if it will remain as is."
"Why not?" Izuku asked.
"I heard some unsavory rumors," Iida said, crossing his arms. The frown on his face was emphasized by the sun glaring down at them, forcing him to squint. "Have you been following the news about Stain?"
"The… vigilante?" Uraraka asked. Izuku blinked, looking up in confusion.
"Who?" he asked. They turned to him, mirroring his confusion. He laughed it off. "S-sorry, I don't actually watch TV much, and I'm bad at keeping up with news outside of the arrests of the day."
Seeing which hero did what was always interesting.
"Stain's a villain," Iida corrected. Izuku listened intently, grabbing his bottle of water and drinking. "Though from what I've heard he only goes after villains. A vigilante would be… reasonable compared to what he does."
"Yeah," Uraraka said. "I heard he's beheaded a yakuza villain just two days ago here in Musutafu."
Izuku choked on the water, coughing violently for a few moments. Momo came up to him quickly, slapping his back as Deku wheezed.
"You really need to stop choking," Momo said. Izuku gave her an exasperated look through puffy red eyes, to which she just shrugged with a small smile. "Really, it's unhealthy."
"People need to stop saying things like that when I'm eating and drinking then," Izuku muttered, turning back to Uraraka and Iida. "Could you tell me more about that? It's weird not having heard anything about this before."
"Well, if you don't watch news a lot, it doesn't come up that often," Iida admitted. "He's been around for a year, he appears every few weeks, then a villain turns up dead. They call him 'Executioner Stain'."
"I… suppose that makes sense," Izuku said. "Villain on villain violence is not really something people care about too much, I guess."
"Yes, which is a shame," Iida said, shaking his head slowly. "There's people who seem to consider his approach correct. While lethal force is not explicitly forbidden by heroes, it's supposed to be a last resort amidst last resorts, the fact that it's the first step for him makes me sick."
Izuku could also understand that, though he would not say it out loud. There were more than enough people that would consider the death of villains to be nothing more than a net win for the people, ignoring success stories of certain villains changing their ways and aiding heroes on their path to redemption. The attitude of 'once a villain, always a villain' drew many debates in both news shows, courts and even the parliament.
It didn't help that one of the world's most secure prisons was in Japan, putting to question whether incarceration of villains was supposed to be punitive or rehabilitative.
In Izuku's opinion, Tartarus was a necessary evil, with the emphasis on evil.
"The police do warn that he might attack indiscriminately," Uraraka said, sitting down next to Izuku. "I don't really believe that."
"How can you be so sure?" Iida asked. Izuku looked back and forth between them. Their opinions on Stain seemed split from the point where Uraraka had called him a vigilante. He hadn't expected someone like her to be, if not a fan, at least sympathetic to the idea of vigilantes. "You know as well as I do that criminals are unpredictable."
"It's less that I'm sure, but with the people he's targeted and the amount of witnesses, shouldn't someone have gotten hurt already?"
Iida's frown deepened. Izuku stood, unwilling to let it go on and just put a hand on their shoulders, giving Momo a smile.
"Shouldn't we go back to class?" Izuku asked. She nodded, grabbing her things and putting them into her bag. The others followed suit. As they left, the other classmates ended up following along with them.
It was Kirishima, who had stepped away from his friend Mina, who ended up falling into step with Izuku to talk to him.
"Yo, Midoriya," Kirishima said, his voice attempting and failing to stay low. "You doing alright?"
"Yeah," Izuku said, nodding. "Why shouldn't I?"
"I dunno, you seemed a bit out of it since Bakugou got demoted." Kirishima shrugged, looking forward. "Just didn't want you to be in a slump, it's not your fault, y'know?"
"I know. For what it's worth, I don't think he really wanted to hurt me, but…" Izuku raised his hands, as if he could pluck the words he wanted to say from the air. "Regardless of his intentions, things can go bad, especially with new equipment you don't know about."
The first time Izuku had used a Form correctly was when he had accidentally cleaved a gash into Nezuko's wall. She was clapping, while he was trying and failing to put together a wall scroll he had cut in half. He laughed softly at the memory.
Kirishima's arm swung around his shoulders. Izuku stumbled for a moment, getting used to the surprisingly high weight of his classmate.
"I'm sure it'll be fine, he'll learn his lesson and end up on the right path soon enough," Kirishima said, grinning. "And until then we gotta get our game on, I really want to spar with you one of these days."
"You can join Momo and me at the school gym when you have time," Izuku said. "You just need Aizawa-sensei's permission. I don't have many sparring partners who could take a good hit from me."
Kirishima nodded, his fanged teeth reflecting the sunlight like Nezuko's smile usually did. "Sounds like a plan."
Principal Nezu pursed his lips, watching the screen with a critical eye. The recording was clear, perhaps the clearest one that they had ever gotten of Stain, the man who had been running around the country leaving a trail of blood and tears behind.
The man stood in an alley, his opponent as injured as him. Said opponent's shoulders were bruised from overuse of a strength enhancing quirks that kept rotating the arms, the bird-like mask had been shattered and cut up. Though there were reports about Stain's quirk being able to cause paralysis, he had not used it once in the fight. It was a duel.
That's when it happened. The half broken katana that was in Stain's hand came down a stance. Stain breathed in, it was like the wind around him stilled, and then-
"First Form," came Stain's breathless whisper, hoarse and furious at the same time. His body fell forward and his feet kicked off the ground. He dodged under the fist, slower than before, and his broken blade found the neck of the bird-masked man. "Blood Surface Slash."
The blade, dull and brittle, cut through the man's neck like it was butter. Nezu could have sworn he saw a flash of red. Blood splattered against the wall, the head falling into Stain's waiting hands. The recording ended.
"We've found Kendo Rappa's body in that alley the morning after, the recording was taken by a person who lived in the building."
Nezu frowned.
"As you know," the police officer said, trying and failing to sound as diplomatic as possible. "Many people who fail the exam here end up applying as police officer apprentices. One of the newbies in the programme had seen this recording and brought up that he saw the sword technique used in the exam by one of your students."
Nezu could say that it was unlikely to really recognize a sword style just from seeing it once, but that was a lie. This particular style, this movement, this kind of breathing, it was distinct enough that Nezu could not deny it.
"You assume he learned from him?" Nezu asked. Of course he didn't. Nezu knew that Midoriya Inko would not let a man like him anywhere near her son, but the police might have their own ideas.
"Or from the same master as him," the police officer said. "We would like to question him, with your permission of course."
"Anything to help the Stain investigation," Nezu said. "But his teacher will be there. Unless you believe he should need a lawyer?"
He said it in his usual jovial tone, but the policeman clearly understood the implications. In the end, the school was in loco parentis for the students while they were on the campus, and U.A.'s legal team was not something people wanted to deal with.
"A teacher should be fine," the office said quickly, nodding in appreciation. "Thank you, Mr. Principal."
"Please call Izuku Midoriya from class 1-A up." Nezu said into his phone on the desk after tapping a button. "I would like to think that his involvement in this case will be kept under wraps, correct, officer?"
"Yes, sir."
Izuku wasn't sure why he was sitting in a mostly empty classroom with two desks arranged together into a makeshift table. Aizawa was sitting next to him, a police officer across them tapping a pen onto a notepad.
"I apologize for the inconvenience," the police officer said, perhaps too nicely. "I am Officer Takahashi, I'm here to ask a few questions due to a possible involvement with an ongoing case. I have promised the principal that this should be off the record as long as you answer my questions."
"If he asks anything you shouldn't answer, I'll tell you," Aizawa-sensei said, undiplomatic as always. The teacher seemed annoyed at the presence of the officer, but Takahashi didn't seem to mind. Smiling at them, he started.
"Could you state your name, age and address for the record?" Takahashi requested. Izuku nodded, but was stopped by Aizawa.
"Skip the address."
"Izuku Midoriya," Izuku said, uncertain why Aizawa had declared his address off-limits but more than happy to comply. "Fifteen years old."
Rather than be put off, Takahashi continued unabashed. "Do you know about the villain Stain?"
"Yes," Izuku said, blinking. "I, err, heard about him for the first time this morning. I don't really follow news, I heard he beheaded some yakuza villain a few days ago."
"That's right," Takahashi said, writing in his notepad. "If you're willing, I'd like to show you a recording of that situation. It's rather uncomfortable and bloody, but I believe you'd understand better by watching it."
Izuku looked towards Aizawa, who gave him a curt nod. Turning back to the police officer, Izuku nodded as well. Opening up a small laptop, the man turned it around, replaying the scene of the yakuza villain's death. Izuku paled, his eyes widening as he watched Stain murder his opponent in cold blood.
Using an all too familiar technique.
"But…" Izuku said. That's impossible, he wanted to shout, but Aizawa's hand came over his mouth before he could. Aizawa kept the hand there for a moment, and Izuku took it to calm down, schooling his expression.
"Your question," Aizawa said, letting go and turning to Takahashi.
"According to a witness, the technique used by Stain in this recording is similar to a technique you've used in the entrance exam."
"That's not a question," Izuku said, blinking. Aizawa nodded in approval.
"Have you ever had contact with Stain?" Officer Takahashi asked. Izuku shook his head. "Then, do you have contact with anyone who might have taught Stain this sword style."
"No," Izuku said, his voice slightly strained. Nezuko-sensei would never have taught someone like this. After the recording, the use of the Breath to end another human's life, Izuku felt like he was closer to Iida's side of the debate about Stain. To think that something that was used to protect humanity would be used to kill it felt inherently wrong.
What felt more wrong was that it was the Breath of Water. The beautiful dance that his master had shown him so many years ago. Slightly modified, but still intact. The angle of the sword was different, intended to shred rather than cut, taking full advantage of a chipped and blunted blade-
"Would you be willing to give us the contact information of your instructor, so we may ask them?" Takahashi's last question caused Izuku to start. Aizawa gave him a glance and a short, barely noticeable nod. Izuku swallowed the lump in his throat.
"Of course," Izuku said, pulling out his phone. The man noted the number that Izuku had never once called before. "I-if that's all, I have to get back to class."
Izuku stood, bowing to the police officer and swiftly leaving the room. Aizawa followed after him, giving the police officer one last glance. Takahashi waved them off.
"You seem distracted."
Izuku's swing ended with the sword in his hands slipping out, bouncing off the ground as Izuku grunted. Momo looked at him in concern, while he was usually going at it until she was too exhausted to continue, today it was his turn to flush red, beads of sweat on his forehead, his breath running short.
"Are you alright?" Momo asked, bending down to pick up the sword. Izuku sighed, sitting down onto the ground as he accepted the sword with a thankful nod.
"The reason I was called out of class today," Izuku said. He could trust her, someone who knew about the Breaths. Someone he could confine in until he went home to ask Nezuko herself. He knew she wouldn't have taught someone like Stain, because she told him outright that he was her first student. This would leave those that they left behind. "It was a policeman, asking questions, because of Stain."
"Stain?" Momo asked, frowning. "Why'd you be asked about him?"
Izuku wiped his face with one hand, then through his hair, slicking it back slightly. "Stain used the Breath of Water, or something like it."
Momo's eyes widened, her own face shifting between various emotions until settling for concern. She knelt next to Izuku, putting a hand on his shoulder.
"I don't think Nezuko-sensei taught him," Izuku said quickly. "I'm fairly certain she didn't, but I haven't been able to contact her, which means she's busy. I don't like it."
"I can't imagine you do," Momo said, biting her lip. Izuku lowered his gaze. "Is there something I can do?"
"It's not really a problem that we can solve, is it?" Izuku said, trying to laugh it off. He failed, a bitter sound leaving his throat. Standing up, his fist clenched over the sword-hilt. "I wanted to test something, can you make a target?"
Momo nodded. He turned around, waiting until he heard the sound of her quirk working. A life sized target, one that he had her make before for a short demonstration. She stepped aside, and Izuku breathed.
The angle of the sword, five degrees, the blunt edge aimed not to cut but to rip off. The dance changed, the zone was red, the melody was cruel.
Seeing it once wasn't enough to imitate it, of course, but the motion made sense. It was related to the Breath of Water, even if it was not its purest form. Izuku stepped forward, trying his best to mirror Stain's motions.
Of course, there was a difference between the sharp-but-blunted edge of Stain's blade and his own, specifically blunt forged sword. The target's head didn't fly off, it exploded, the slight upwards motion of the edge hitting both neck and chin and sending what was there of the dummy's head to splatter into the wind. Momo, startled, took a step back and fell.
Izuku didn't like it.
It felt like there was a rhythm to it he couldn't hear. Notes of a play in between two heartbeats he could not decipher.
"Not Breath of Water," Izuku corrected himself, listening to the melody. He put the sword away, walking to Momo who looked at the target dummy in discomfort. Feeling guilty, he held out a hand, waiting for the short seconds that she hesitated to grab it. When she finally did, he pulled her onto her feet, smiling. "Sorry."
"You don't need to apologize," Momo said, mumbling the words as she looked away. "It's just, err, not the same as last time."
Last time he had shown her the Breath of Water, the hit had caused the dummy to flip over. It was sturdy enough that the blunt sword could not cut it.
"I might have put in a bit too much force," Izuku admitted. "That was what Stain used to… kill that man."
"It looks similar, but, not really?" Momo tried. She had an eye for it, of course. "I think it's still best if you ask your master, she's the expert on this, isn't she?"
"I don't think I'll get anything done today," Izuku said. Momo nodded, as understanding as always. "Should we get something to drink before going home? Lunch Rush is still around, right?"
"Yes, let's."
Izuku ignored how his hand shook as he put the sword back into the sheath.
Nezuko wasn't home when he arrived, but his mother was. She was sleeping on the couch, too tired to move to her bed after she had arrived. Despite that, there was dinner on the table. It was a sight that Izuku had become used to, but it still caused a tight feeling in his chest. He wanted to wake her up and ask her about all the things that she never told him about because she thought that he was too young to understand.
But perhaps Momo was mistaken. He had looked her up as well after Iida confirmed that there were no search results with her name on them. Nothing from Todai, nothing from any research papers he could look up.
Izuku trusted his mother. She was the kindest person in the world. No matter how tired, when she was back she would always cook for him before he came back from school.
So he let her sleep, grabbing a blanket and putting it over her. She stirred slightly, her face pale and her eyes moving rapidly under the eyelids. Taking her hand, Izuku rubbed the back of it with his thumb. The calluses on his fingers were not soft, but his mother's discomfort was vanishing slowly.
He could see her lips move. His ears were good, and despite that he had to lean in to hear the words.
"...n't," she whispered so low that it could have been a trick of the wind. "...d'n't take hm from me."
Izuku frowned, his free hand coming up to her forehead, wiping away strands of hair that were slipping over her face.
"I'm right here, mom," Izuku whispered. Her lips moved again.
This time, there was no sound, but the lipless word of a name he had not heard in a long time.
"Hisashi."
Chapter 7: Dead Men Tell No Tales
Izuku stirred late at night. He was in his bedroom at home, but something left him restless. He woke up at the stroke of midnight, rolling out of bed to find himself drenched in sweat. The dreamless sleep was perhaps not that dreamless, but whatever nightmares plagued him were long forgotten by the time his eyes were wide open.
He could hear voices. Or perhaps just one voice would be more appropriate. His mother was on the phone, sitting in the living room. She spoke in hushed whispers.
He didn't mean to sneak up on her, but the darkness and tiredness quieted his steps, as if he might wake the neighborhood if he moved too fast.
His mother, pausing whatever she was saying into the phone as she turned around. In the darkness, he could not see her eyes, but he could hear her heart skip a beat in fright.
"I'll call you back," she said, hanging up quickly. Izuku could hear the person on the other side of the line shout something before the connection was cut. "Hello, Izu-kun. Is something the matter?"
He opened his mouth. He wanted to ask. But somehow, he could tell that she didn't want him to. The tired eyes, the thin cheeks that spoke of how little she ate as she moved back and forth.
"No, it's nothing," Izuku said. "I just woke up and wanted to check on you."
She smiled, reaching out and putting a hand on his cheek. It was an almost unfamiliar warmth. Giving her a smile in return, he put his hand over hers. Her phone vibrated, and Izuku could see the name RS-9 on it before she flipped it around, turning on the do not disturb mode.
"You should go to bed again, you have school tomorrow, don't you?" she said, pinching his cheek. Her voice betrayed just how little sleep she had herself. "My little hero."
"We haven't talked in a while," Izuku said. He felt like a child again, a much younger one that is. He was fifteen, soon to be sixteen, but whenever his mother was around he felt four years younger.
Is something going on at work?
Can I do something for you to ease your burdens?
He wanted to ask, but his tongue was tied by the worry.
"I know," she said. He felt a tightness in his chest at the tone in her voice. "But I should have some free time soon, if you want we can go to eat something together."
"That sounds great," Izuku said, still smiling. She nodded, letting go of his cheek and standing up. She stumbled for a moment, forcing him to keep her upright as she regained her bearings. "Come on, there's a soft mattress in your bedroom."
She nodded along as he helped her up the stairs. She felt so light and fragile, already half-asleep by the time that he reached her bedroom. When he helped her to bed, he went back to his own room, trying and failing to fall asleep.
Izuku sat in class, thinking about last night. The English lesson with Present Mic had gone like usual, with a small pop quiz halfway through just to check if people were paying attention. His mood was infectious, which was a benefit to having the English lesson so early in the day, cheering people up.
This came to the detriment of those who liked it more quiet, of course, as the usual suspects chatted loudly and happily about the latest rumors and the who's who. Izuku could not fault them. The insulated bottle he had taken with him, filled with tea brewed exactly how Nezuko-sensei had taught him, was more than enough for him to enjoy the short moments between classes.
Nobody really wanted any of it either, as they didn't enjoy a hot drink in the increasingly hot weather. Fortunately, temperature regulation was not something that Izuku had much of an issue with.
Todoroki as well, but he felt less approachable than the rest of the class. His eyes were almost unkind and inauspicious, yet Izuku could not find it in him to dislike him. It was clear that despite his initial issues with the class, he was warming up to them in his own way. Izuku could have sworn that the ice-quirk user had once cracked a smile at Mina making a dirty joke that had seen Iida flush red.
"Hey, Midoriya!" Kaminari came up to him, putting a hand around his shoulder. "You gotta win me this bet. You and Yaomomo are dating, right?"
Were he in a less somber mood, Izuku might have denied it more vehemently and with a lot more blushing. Instead, he looked at the boy who gave him an approving grin and shook his head slowly. "We're just friends, Kaminari-san."
"Told you!" Mina said loudly enough for the entire class to hear, making it obvious that she was listening in on them. "They're both too sweet and innocent to make the first move-"
Jirou stabbed her earlobes into Mina's armpits, causing the girl to yelp and put her hands over them to stop any tickling. "Read the room, girl."
Momo looked more exasperated than embarrassed at the scene, clearly already used to the antics of the more troublesome corner of the classroom, but also too nice to really do anything about it. Iida, however, had no such reservations. The young man stood up, glaring at the group as he adjusted his glasses.
"Spreading rumors about your classmates is not befitting people of your position," Iida said. By the time he began the rant in earnest, Izuku had already tuned him out. Momo stood up from her seat, walking up to him.
"Is everything alright?" she asked. Izuku gave an unconvincing nod. "It's not the thing from yesterday, is it?"
"No," Izuku said, trying to school his features into a more pleasant smile. "There's some other things, too. I just have a lot to sort through right now, it'll be fine."
"If you want to move our lessons-" Momo began. Izuku cut her off quickly, waving a hand in front of him as if to shove the words away.
"It's not anything that can be handled now, it'll be fine," Izuku said. The lessons, if they could be called that considering that they consisted mostly of exercise and Izuku re-telling some of Nezuko's stories, were one of the highlights of his day. He always enjoyed spending time with Momo, though they were becoming more crowded as people had begun to use the evenings to practice in the gyms where they could use their quirks at their leisure. Only a few of the class went straight home afterwards, including Shinso, who said his quirk didn't really benefit from such training, and Todoroki, who didn't say much in general. "I promised Kirishima a spar today, too."
The boy gave a thumbs up from afar when he heard his name, before turning back to Ojiro, whom he was chatting with.
"Alright," Momo said, nodding along. "If there's anything I can do for you, please tell me. Lately it feels like all I've been doing is taking without giving anything back."
"You don't get to decide on what people do with their time, Momo," Izuku said, winking. Her shoulders sagged, her eyes dodging his. "Teaching you has been teaching me as well, you're almost at one hundred consecutive swings."
"It feels kind of hypocritical," she murmured. Izuku blinked.
"Sorry?" he said, tilting his head. Momo crossed her arms, almost indignant and childish compared other usually more composed persona in front of the class.
"You don't get to decide what people do with their time, Izuku-kun!" Momo said, almost shouting his name. It was already loud enough to draw the eyes of the usual suspects. "If you're not doing well, of course I'd want to help you as your friend, but you never tell me anything."
Izuku flushed, unable to meet her steely eyes. The intimidating appearance was made more prominent by the contrast, the already tall girl standing far above him as he still sat in his chair. Izuku stood, ready to apologize, as he was used to. He stumbled, instead, and found himself held upright in Momo's arms not unlike he had done for his mother last night.
She didn't let go when his feet were straight on the ground again. He coughed, patting her on the back to get her attention before she finally released him from the grip. From where he stood, Izuku saw Mina push money towards Kaminari. Izuku felt his face grow red.
Izuku jogged around the neighborhood as usual. The trip to USJ had been delayed for a week as Aizawa had been chosen to aid an investigation unit. While the reason wasn't properly mentioned, Izuku had the feeling that it had to do with Stain.
While the lack of rescue training was something people bemoaned, the supplementary lessons with All Might would make up for it easily.
The training and the spar yesterday were, on insistence of Momo, delayed for a bit. Izuku did not have a clear head, and the distraction would not do well for it. Kirishima didn't complain, more than happy to take a rain check on the possibility of taking him on.
Was he that obvious? Did he really wear his heart on the sleeve that much? Izuku could see it, of course, as he woke up this morning before he put on his shoes. The bags under his eyes despite his usual sleeping hours, the paleness of his skin as the stress of not knowing gnawed on him. If it were only his mother, it would be something he could write off, but it was the combination of so many things. Nezuko-sensei would be contacted by the police, Stain was using a Breath to go around murdering people, his mother was having nightmares involving his father-
"You."
A rough voice behind him echoed, far enough away for Izuku to jump out of reflex and put an even more considerable distance between them. A tall, bald man stood there, a white mask over his mouth and a scowl that would make Bakugou jealous. He wore a rather neat shirt and pants, giving him a more distinguished appearance than the common thug.
And yet, something about him felt dangerous. Like his heart was beating with a fury Izuku could not read on his face.
"Y-yeah?" Izuku said, his hand itching towards the sword on his back. It was bundled up, as was usual for him on the way home, but not too tightly. A small pull of the thread that bound it would be enough to reach the hilt.
"I'm looking for someone," the man said. His hands were twitching, slowly balling into fists. Izuku looked around. His options were clear, he could just run. But somehow he had the feeling that the man in front of him had not picked him at random. It was, after all, not a neighborhood in which villains were active. Not rich enough to steal, not poor enough to use as hideouts.
"L-like an address?" Izuku asked, trying to keep his voice steady. The man's fingers were starting to sparkle in the sunlight. Crystals were growing on his fingers which slowly formed into claws.
"No, not like an address," the man said, looking around. His words were slow, meticulously picked as if he was talking to a startled animal to stop it from running away. Izuku shifted his weight, ready to do just that. "You're a little hero, aren't you? Heard you were going to U.A."
Izuku stopped. Though the man had a mask on, Izuku could see the smile underneath it. He could see the hostile stance shifting away from him and towards the building of Umeno-san, an elderly lady he had often met on his jogs.
The bundle fell from his back, and the sword was in his hands before the man could even begin his threat. The smile slipped away, the cheekbones that peeked out from the mask becoming less prominent. His eyes, as humorless as before, took on a dangerous edge at the sight.
"Where's Stain?" the man asked. Izuku frowned. He could already tell what it was about. If the policeman from yesterday wasn't a plant, then someone else in the precinct had tipped this man off. The mask should have been a dead giveaway. He must have been the ally of the beheaded villain.
"I don't know," Izuku said. Of course, he knew that the truth would not lead to the result that he wanted, but Izuku was not a liar. The things he could not share were simply left unsaid. The man cracked his neck, the claws becoming much bigger and more prominent. Now, the crystals began growing on the man's head.
"See, I don't think you're lying," the man said, sounding genuine enough for Izuku to lower the sword slightly. "But there's still some questions we gotta ask, y'know? You can come with Uncle Yu and we'll get this all sorted out. Nobody needs to get hurt."
"Somehow I have the feeling it won't go well for me," Izuku said. The man's head shook slowly, lowering his body like a beast on the prowl. Izuku prepared himself.
"Are you sure?" 'Uncle' Yu asked. He seemed genuinely exasperated, as if he expected Izuku to just go with him. If the yakuza already knew where he lived, he couldn't just risk them breaking into his home and finding his mother there. He had to get rid of the man, get home, and run.
Izuku breathed. The air took on a dangerous edge.
When Yu came at him, he did so with a low stance, crystals gathering around his neck and chin. Izuku struck from above, the sword smashing and shattering crystals on top of the man's head.
Before he could follow up, the crystals regrew, and the man's claw-like crystalized limbs swung from the right. The Nichirin blade came between them, but the force of the attack was still enough to hurt.
Izuku's hands and arms shook in pain after he stumbled backwards, the Breath holding due to conscious effort. If he took a hit like that without reinforcing his body, the fight would be over fast. The man had experience, and a confidence in his quirk that Izuku had not seen before. He couldn't fight him like another student.
The barrage continued, but Izuku was more prepared.
Yu's claws met his sword, and after a moment of quiet between them, they fell into a rhythm.
Third Form: Flowing Dance
Izuku met every strike with one of his own. A step backwards, a strike to the left that deflected a right hook. Crouching, he slammed the hilt of the sword into the man's un-crystalized elbow, giving him an opening to step forward again. Yu's crystals grew in intensity.
Izuku knew that in a battle of stamina, the man had a much better chance. But the sound of battle had drawn in the eyes of the neighbors. He could hear the dialing of phones, people calling the police and heroes. He didn't have to outlast the man to find a decisive strike, he just had to outlast him until the cavalry came.
But when the man's crystallized fists turned into a crystallized sword, Izuku found that this would be easier said than done. The man seemed to enjoy it. The Flowing Dance was not enough anymore, the range of his sword did not equal the range of the tall man's crystal blade.
He pulled his sword back.
The man did the same.
Drop Ripple Thrust.
The technique he had used to send the ball forward, the furthest reaching attack he had, as well as the fastest. The stab had the tip of his blade meet Yu's crystal sword head on.
Nichirin surpassed crystals. This time, they seemed to regrow slower.
He was never comfortable with the tenth form. It was one of those which he did not have ample space to practice in the small dojo. He stepped forward, under the man's fist, and chopped.
Each swing added to the rotation of his dance. Every step he took forward, he sent more and more shattered crystals into the air with his swipes and forced Yu backwards. Every step he took, he ran out of breath.
Without realizing, they had already entered someone's garden. The world around him seemed to blur as he fought, not just solely to blame on the lack of oxygen reaching his brain as his breath ran shorter.
Izuku bent over and breathed one last time. He could hear sirens in the distance.
Water Surface Slash.
Slay. Nezuko once said that she would teach him how to slay.
The first form. Simple, effective, and brutally lethal. He could see how the technique was meant to kill demons, because Izuku could not see any other way than to kill this man. The blood rushed into his ears. Hitting the man in the neck would shatter the crystals, and forcing himself to pull through instead of holding back would shatter his neck.
Thus, he aimed for the man's chest.
Yu's shirt ripped itself apart, revealing that the crystals could grow there as well. The sword was deflected, unable to find the right angle due to the unexpected defense.
Izuku's swing went wide, like he was playing baseball instead of dancing with his blade. Yu's fist came up in a vicious uppercut, hitting Izuku in the stomach and sending him flying.
Something inside him tore.
He could hear it.
The blood rushing in his ears was gone, replaced with something in his chest feeling off. He could not breathe. He was already short on oxygen, the man had held back but clearly didn't expect the adverse effect of punching a relatively inexperienced Breath user so hard that his lung collapsed.
Izuku gasped for air, his sword lying forgotten on the street as he thrashed on the ground. His vision was fading black, one hand clawing at his throat as if he could force the air in that way, and one hand clawing at the sky.
He had to breathe.
A man appeared in the stark darkness that was creeping up to him. He held a finger to his mouth, as if shushing him.
He had to breathe.
The man shook his head, hanafuda earrings swaying back and forth. Kneeling down, he put his hand on Izuku's chest.
He had to h—