Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Midoriya Izuku was a kind-hearted child, known for wearing his emotions on his sleeve and dreaming of becoming a hero. In a world filled with quirks, he didn’t seem to stand out much at first. But with his fluffy green hair, matching emerald eyes, and freckles that resembled constellations, he was undeniably adorable. His smile could rival the brightness of the sun, melting even the coldest hearts.

Izuku’s kindness knew no bounds. He offered it to everyone—no matter who they were or what they looked like. But despite his best efforts to always do good, the world had a way of dealing him a harsh hand.

“It’s alright now. Why? FOR I AM HERE!”

“Izuku, dear, if you don’t calm down, you’re going to fly out of your seat,” his mother’s gentle voice cut through the booming sound of his favorite hero. The contrast between her soft tone and All Might’s grandiose entrance was stark.

“But, Mom! He’s so cool!!!” Izuku’s eyes sparkled as he began ranting about his favorite hero. “He’s the strongest Alpha ever! No villain could ever beat him!!! And when I get my Quirk, I’m going to be a hero just like him!” His enthusiasm was infectious. With a tight grip on his All Might toy, he raised it high above his head and swung it side to side, mimicking the hero’s trademark laugh.

His mother chuckled, shaking her head at his antics. She gathered the toys that had been scattered across the floor during his recent playdate with Bakugou. A few had scorch marks—reminders of the small explosions Bakugou had set off, now that he was officially an Alpha. “Of course, you will, honey. Now, turn off the video and wash up for dinner. Remember, you have the appointment with the Quirk doctor tomorrow.”

Reluctantly, Izuku obeyed, shutting off the computer. As he hopped down from the chair, a small thud echoed in the room. But his gloom was fleeting, replaced by the same cheerfulness that defined him. He rushed out to help his mother set the table.

“Well, your son definitely has a Quirk, but that’s all I can tell you for now. You’ll just have to wait and see what develops. If nothing happens in a month, bring him back, and we’ll run some more tests to see what we can uncover.”

“So, did you finally get your Quirk, Deku?” Bakugou’s question rang out. It had only been a week since the doctor’s visit, and barely a month since Izuku’s fourth birthday. Late bloomers were not unheard of, but Bakugou continued to ask, almost daily.

“Not yet, Kacchan! But I’m sure it’ll come soon!” Izuku answered cheerfully, though the repetition of the question was starting to wear on him.

Bakugou wasn’t satisfied with that response. “You know what I think? I think you’re lying, and you’re actually quirkless. That would be just like a worthless Deku, huh?” Sparks began to flicker in his hands, small but enough to show he was riled up. “Hell, you’re probably going to be an Omega, too. A quirkless Omega loser. You’ll never be a hero if you’re that weak.”

Izuku felt his throat tighten as his eyes welled with tears. “That- That’s m-mean, Kacchan!” he stammered, the sting of his friend’s words cutting deeper than usual. “I’m not lying! The doctor said I’d have a Quirk. I just have to figure out how to activate it!” His voice trembled as tears began to fall. “And Mom said I’ll probably be a Beta like her…” His body shook as sobs wracked his small frame, the stress of his uncertainty about his Quirk overwhelming him.

Bakugou scowled, his patience gone. “Whatever,” he muttered, turning his back on Izuku and storming off.

Izuku tried to follow, his heart heavy and his vision blurry from tears. “W-Wait, Kacchan!” he called, but his voice cracked as he struggled to wipe his eyes.

Bakugou didn’t stop. Not until the screech of tires filled the air.

Izuku froze. The sound of the car braking too late reached his ears. His eyes cleared just enough to see the car speeding toward him. He knew, somehow, that it wouldn’t stop in time.

“STOP!” He screamed, his voice raw with fear.

But there was another voice too. Someone yelled his cruel nickname but the sound of the car's horn droned it out. Izuku squeezed his eyes shut, bracing for the inevitable. 

But. The impact never came.

When he opened his eyes, everything was different. The world around him had turned a dull gray, as though the universe had hit pause. The car was only inches away, the driver frozen in panic, still trying to brake. Above him, birds hung suspended in midair. Around him, people stood motionless, their horrified expressions locked in place.

Izuku stumbled back, away from the car, his legs unsteady. He couldn’t comprehend what was happening. As he moved toward Bakugou, his head spun, and dizziness washed over him. He didn’t make it far before his legs gave out, and he collapsed onto the asphalt.

Pain shot through his stomach like he’d been punched, and a dull throb pressed against his head. His vision blurred again, but this time, he was certain it wasn’t from crying. He realized, dimly, that he had somehow moved out of the car’s path. But the pain was too much for him to focus on that.

In the distance, he heard a voice screaming, but it was muffled and indistinct. Hands shook his shoulders urgently, pulling him upright. They were small and warm like Bakugou’s hands had been when he first received his Quirk.

The last thing Izuku remembered was being lifted and laid onto something hard and flat. Then, everything went dark.

________________

Waking up was the hardest part. After drifting in peaceful darkness for what felt like an eternity, the sudden pain that came with consciousness made him wish he could stay asleep. His head throbbed as if someone had slammed a hammer into it, his eyelids felt too heavy to lift, and his body ached as though he'd run across all of Japan without stopping. The last thing he remembered was running to catch up with Kacchan... but after that, everything was a blur.

He forced his eyes open, only to be blinded by the overhead light. Wincing, he squeezed his eyes shut, waiting for the pain to subside. Keeping them closed for now, he tried to listen for anything that might help him figure out where he was. Gripping the rough covers beneath his hands, he realized it wasn’t his All Might comforter. He wasn’t in his room at home. The only sounds were the occasional footsteps passing by, and considering how many he heard he must’ve been in a place with a lot of people.

With little else to go on, he let out a quiet groan of frustration and slowly raised one hand to shield his eyes. It took far more effort than it should have, but the small bit of shade helped him open his eyes just enough. A plain white room came into focus. He lay in a small white bed with metal bars on the sides, likely to keep him from falling out. A small TV was attached to the wall across from him, and a chair sat next to the bed, with what looked like his mother’s purse on it. "At least I’m not alone..." he thought with a quiet sigh of relief before continuing to scan the room. There wasn’t much; just a single window across from him, but the view was blocked by a building. Still, the sunlight streaming through told him it was day. The faint smell of disinfectant filled the air, and he noticed the hospital gown he was wearing. He didn’t question why that hadn’t been the first thing he’d noticed.

Before he could think much more, the door swung open.

The moment Inko saw her son was awake, she practically threw herself at the bed. "Izuku! You’re awake! How are you feeling? Do you need anything? You were out for so long!" She paused, catching her breath. "Oh! I should get the doctor now that you’re up..."

Izuku blinked, surprised at how much his mother was talking. He had always thought that habit came from his absent father, but it seemed that wasn’t the case. "Mom! I’m oh- okay, ple- please calm dow- down," he croaked. His voice was rough, dry, and cracked in places, but it was enough to snap Inko back to the present.

"Oh! Let me get you some water, then I’ll call the doctor," she said, rushing off to fetch it. Moments later, she returned with a clear plastic cup and carefully handed it to him.

Gratefully, Izuku took the water and drank deeply, realizing just how thirsty he was. The cool liquid seemed to ease some of the soreness, and a small smile tugged at his lips.

Once he finished, Inko took the cup from him and sat down in the chair next to his bed. They sat in silence for a moment before Izuku gathered the courage to ask, "Mom, what happened?"

Inko tilted her head, seeming to consider his question before answering. "There was an... accident, at the park. Or, there was almost an accident..." Her voice wavered slightly. "You... you almost got hit by a car. The driver didn’t see you coming. Katsuki said you somehow teleported out of the way. But then... you collapsed."

Tears welled up in her eyes, and Izuku’s chest tightened with concern as he watched her wipe them away. "B-but! I’m ok now, right? The car didn’t get me, and I... I got my Quirk!" He forced a wobbly smile, trying to comfort her.

Inko returned a fragile smile of her own before letting out a small laugh. "Your Quirk is amazing, honey. I’m sure it’s something special." Her tears slowed as she spoke.

Izuku’s smile grew more confident. "Yeah! I bet I can be a great hero with a teleportation Quirk!" He shouted with excitement.

Inko’s smile faltered, and she hesitated. Before she could speak, the doctor finally entered the room. "Good morning," he greeted, closing the door behind him with a small smile. He was a plain-looking man with short black hair and purple eyes, holding a paper packet at his side.

"I’m glad to see you up and moving around already. You gave us quite a scare. Fortunately, you only came in with bruised knees and some Quirk exhaustion," the doctor said.

Izuku gave a sheepish smile and lowered his head. "Sorry for the trouble," he mumbled.

The doctor gave him a patient smile. "There’s nothing to apologize for. Just remember to look both ways before you cross next time, alright?" After Izuku nodded, the doctor continued. "Now, I’ll be your doctor for the rest of your stay. My name is Koizumi Aijiro, and my Quirk allows me to check people’s vital signs, but only if they have water on them."

Izuku’s eyes widened as the doctor flipped through the papers in his hands. "Now, I’m sure you’ve been dying to know about your Quirk. We had a chance to look into it while you were unconscious, and I think we’ve got a good idea of what it might be. I just have a few questions to confirm things."

Izuku eagerly nodded, his excitement making his head spin. "Ok!" he exclaimed, nearly bouncing in his bed.

The doctor cleared his throat and continued. "Can you tell me how you activated your Quirk? What happened around you when it activated? I know it was a stressful situation, but even small details might help."

Izuku furrowed his brow in concentration, puffing out his cheeks as he tried to recall the event. The memory was blurry, and it made his headache just thinking about it. But his excitement pushed him through the discomfort. "I... don’t remember much. I think I screamed something..." His face lit up suddenly, and he clapped his hands together. "I yelled 'Stop!' And the car did! But then everything else stopped, too! My head got fuzzy, and my stomach hurt..."

The doctor nodded thoughtfully, glancing at Inko, who had been quiet throughout the conversation. "Well, looks like I owe Ms. Tomiko lunch…” he muttered butterfly white writing something briefly on the chart in front of him.

“Excuse me,” Inko said indignantly, looking about ready to scold the doctor. 

Seemingly realizing that he’d spoken allowed in front of a patient he quickly cleared his throat, “Oh um, what I meant was, it seems Ms. Tomiko's theory was most likely correct. You didn’t teleport—you stopped time.” He regained his composure, still avoiding Izuku’s mother's eyes, as she clearly wasn’t too pleased with him. He continued, “That’s an incredibly powerful Quirk, young man, even if it only lasts a couple of minutes. I’m sure it’ll grow stronger with time!"

Izuku's face broke into a huge grin. "That’s so cool!!!" he shouted. His mind raced with ideas about how he could use his new ability to be a hero. So many ideas filled his head that he started mumbling them aloud, though too quietly for anyone to understand.

Breaking out of his reverie, he turned to face his mother, who had been talking to the doctor. She looked distressed, but he was too caught up in his excitement to notice. "Do you think I can be a hero now, Mom?"

The room went silent at his words. Tears welled up in Inko’s eyes again, but Izuku didn’t understand why. He had a Quirk—an amazing one, according to the doctor. Shouldn’t she be happy for him?

The doctor, too, seemed confused. "Oh, you don’t know yet. I suppose you were unconscious when you presented..." He glanced at Inko, as though seeking confirmation.

Izuku blinked in confusion. "Aren’t I a Beta?" His parents were both Betas, so why was Mom still so upset?

The doctor paused, sensing his mother’s hesitation. He continued gently, "I’m afraid you didn’t present as a Beta. It’s unusual for it to happen between two Beta parents, but it’s not impossible."

Inko’s voice trembled as she finally spoke the words that echoed in Izuku’s mind.

"You’re an Omega."

Chapter Text

Izuku had barely said a word since they left the hospital. Not even a simple goodbye to the doctor, who seemed oblivious to the pain he'd caused with his news. A part of Izuku still hoped this was all just a terrible dream—a cruel nightmare where he was gifted with an amazing Quirk perfect for a hero, yet branded as a ‘weak’ Omega. But no, this wasn’t a dream. If it were, he could at least wake up.

He never thought Omegas were as weak as most people claimed. They were just like everyone else, weren’t they? Izuku was smart—maybe not the smartest of his age, but certainly smarter than most. He knew how to look for answers on his own. So, when rumors started circulating about him possibly being an Omega, he took it upon himself to research the truth. What he found made his stomach churn.

Despite the sugarcoated language in articles and websites, Izuku could see the truth: Omegas were treated like lesser beings. They were often controlled, dismissed, and in some cases, confined to the role of a ‘trophy spouse.’ To many, they were seen as fragile, incapable of making their own choices. His heart ached with pity for those that awakened as an Omega. And he swore that when he became a Hero, he would fight for the rights of Omegas everywhere. But now, he was one of them. Life had a cruel sense of humor.

Lost in thought, Izuku didn’t even realize they’d arrived home until his mother opened the car door. “Izuku? Sweetie, are you okay?” Her voice trembled, trying so hard to stay strong, to hold back the tears that Izuku knew were there. He could hardly bring himself to say anything comforting, so he just nodded and stepped out of the car. His mother gently took his hand, her grip firm but shaky, as if afraid someone might try to take him away right then and there.

Together, they walked back into their apartment, her hand tightening around his with each step. Izuku barely noticed the pressure as his thoughts continued to swirl, but he could feel the way her hand trembled. It wasn’t just for her own sake—it was for him. The fear, the uncertainty—it clung to her like a shadow.

The door clicked shut behind them, and only then did his mother release his hand. Moving on autopilot, Izuku removed his shoes and slipped into his house slippers, his mother following suit. The silence stretched between them, thick and heavy, until his mother broke it with a weak smile. “How about you go upstairs and try testing out your Quirk while I make dinner? We could have katsudon tonight!” Her voice was light, too light, trying to bring some cheer into the room.

Izuku gave a small, genuine smile. His Quirk—he could test it out. That excitement, at least, was a small relief. "Alright!" He responded quickly, eager to retreat into the familiarity of his room.

With her son gone, Inko finally let out a shaky breath, tears slipping from her eyes. She pressed her hand to her face, muffling her sobs before moving into the kitchen. She had to keep going, keep pretending things were okay—at least for Izuku's sake. But her mind raced, reminding her of the conversation she couldn’t delay for much longer. 

Meanwhile, Izuku had already pulled out the fresh notebook he’d saved for just this moment. Despite the weight of everything, a small spark of excitement filled him as he wrote down his findings.

Name: Midoriya Izuku

Quirk: Freeze Frame

Description: Can stop time.

His handwriting was messy, but legible. A satisfied nod followed his quick entry. He moved to stand, ready for his first test.

“Okay. First things first...” He opened the notebook to the next page and continued.

"Activating it!"

It felt awkward to recall the moment he first activated the Quirk, but he knew it worked with a command—‘Stop’—spoken aloud. Maybe it's voice-activated, he mused, already adjusting his plan. Taking a deep breath, he raised his pencil above his head, counting down silently. As the pencil dropped, he shouted, “Stop!”

Time seemed to flicker, the world turning dull and gray for just a split second before it snapped back into color, the pencil clinking softly to the floor. Izuku's pout was barely visible, but he sighed and bent to pick it up, scribbling down what he’d learned.

Well, that was a good first try... He added a quick note to the page.

___________

Thirty minutes later, his mother called from the kitchen, pulling him from his thoughts. “Dinner will be ready soon, Izuku!”

“Okay, mom!” he called back, barely stopping to think. He eagerly scanned his notes once more before heading downstairs.

___________

Back in the kitchen, Inko had set the table, and the smell of katsudon filled the air. Izuku bounced happily in his seat, his earlier anxiety pushed aside as he dug into his food. “Thanks, mom!” he said with a wide grin, his spirits lifted.

A small smile curled at the corners of Inko’s lips as she watched him, but her own bowl sat untouched. She nodded and hummed occasionally, trying to keep up with his excited chatter about his Quirk experiments.

But as the conversation slowed, Izuku suddenly grew quiet, his brow furrowing. “Mom? Is everything okay?”

Caught off guard, Inko hesitated before speaking. "I... I need to tell you something." She couldn't bring herself to lie, couldn't pretend everything was fine when it clearly wasn’t. “Do you know what happens when children present as Omegas?”

Izuku shook his head slowly, unsure what she meant. He opened his mouth to ask, but no words came.

“Omegas are taken to special facilities,” she continued softly, her voice cracking as she explained. "They... they’ll be safe there, away from harm. People don’t think Omegas are strong enough to be out on their own. So, the government places them in facilities until an Alpha or Beta comes to claim them." Her heart broke with each word she spoke. She never wanted this for Izuku. He had just gotten his Quirk, his chance to grow into the hero he dreamed of being, and now it was all threatened.

Izuku’s breath hitched. “I don’t want to go...” His voice trembled, and tears welled in his eyes. “I want to stay with you, mom.”

Inko stood up quickly, wiping her own eyes before pulling her son into a tight embrace. “I know, baby... I know. But you don’t have a choice. By the end of the week, they’ll take you. But you’ll be able to come home once you're claimed. It’ll be okay... I’m sure you’ll make lots of friends at the facility. Think of it like a really long sleepover.”

Izuku’s tears fell freely now, but there was one question that had been bothering him. “Mom... do you think... can I still become a hero?”

Inko’s heart clenched at the thought. Her mind screamed No, but she refused to say it aloud. Izuku needed hope, even if it was fragile.

She met his eyes and forced a smile. "Izuku, look at me." Hesitantly, he did. “I won’t lie to you. It’s going to be really hard. But if anyone can do it, it’s you. So don’t give up, okay?" She swallowed the lump in her throat before adding, “Promise me, no matter what, you won’t let anyone—Alpha, Beta, Omega—tell you who you have to be. Your dreams might change, and that’s okay. But never let anyone take away who you are."

Izuku nodded, trying to hold back the tears that threatened to fall again. "I promise, Mom. I won’t let you down! I’ll show the whole world that Omegas are no different than anyone else!"

Inko laughed through her tears, and soon both mother and son were sobbing, holding each other tightly. "No matter what," she whispered into his hair, "I’ll always believe in you."

Maybe one day, she hoped, that would be enough.

Chapter Text

The Midoriya household settled into peaceful sleep that night, exhaustion from the day's chaos weighing heavily on everyone. Between the tears and the Quirk-related events, it didn't take long for the family to drift into slumber. But while sleep came easy, the nightmares were just as persistent.

In the early hours of the morning, long before the sun made its first appearance, Inko woke with a start. Her breath came in sharp, uneven gasps as the remnants of a haunting dream slipped away. She rarely remembered her dreams; only the lingering feeling of helplessness or fear remained. With trembling hands, she pushed the blankets aside and shuffled to the bathroom. As the light flickered on, she studied her reflection in the mirror, noting the exhaustion in her eyes, the dark bags that were visible despite her best efforts to hide them. I hope Izuku is sleeping better than I am, she thought. Well, no more sleep for me. Might as well get ready for the day.

She moved through her morning routine quietly, not wanting to disturb Izuku. After dressing, she slipped out of her room, careful not to wake her son, and made her way down the hall. As she passed a framed picture on the wall, she paused. It was a photo of Izuku and Katsuki in matching All Might onesies, their faces bright with smiles. The picture had only been hanging there for a little less than a year, but it held so much warmth.

An idea struck her, and she pulled out her phone, making sure it wasn’t too early to call before dialing the familiar number. After three rings, a voice she recognized immediately came through the speaker.

"Inko?" Bakugou Mitsuki’s voice rang through, as clear and commanding as ever. "It’s a bit early for a call, isn’t it?"

"Oh! I’m sorry, I know it’s early," Inko stammered. "But I wanted to see if Katsuki would be interested in coming over for a playdate today?"

A thoughtful hum came from the other end. "Sure, why not. Katsuki’s been asking about Izuku, wondering how he’s doing after everything. I suppose now’s as good a time as any."

Inko let out a relieved breath, smiling to herself as she glanced back at Izuku’s door, still closed. "Great! How about you both come by around lunchtime? I’ll make something for everyone, and the boys can play now that Izuku’s got his Quirk."

"I’ll make sure we’re there," Mitsuki replied. "See you then."

The call ended, and Inko stood for a moment, feeling the tension leave her shoulders. But before she could move, a soft thud came from inside Izuku’s room. Looks like he’s up, Inko thought with a smile, heading into the kitchen to prepare breakfast.

___________

What Inko didn’t know was that Izuku had been awake for quite a while.

He’d woken up as the first rays of light began to creep through his window, but he knew it was far too early to be awake. His mind refused to fall back asleep, though, and he lay there, staring at the ceiling, unable to doze off again.

It wasn’t until he heard his mother moving around outside his room that he finally decided to get up. He shuffled toward the door, rubbing sleep from his eyes. As he reached for the doorknob, he overheard his mother talking to someone, and though he couldn’t make out the conversation, he was certain he’d heard Katsuki’s name.

‘ Katsuki is coming over! ’ he thought, excitement blooming in his chest, ‘Even if he’s been a bit mean lately, now that I have my Quirk, he’ll go back to being nice! ’

In his excitement, he forgot about the stack of books on the floor, tripping over them with a loud thud. Even that couldn’t dampen his enthusiasm. He scrambled to his feet and hurried toward the door, quickly swinging it open and running toward the kitchen.

"Momma! Is Kacchan coming over soon?" he asked, bouncing on his toes, unable to contain his excitement.

Inko glanced down at her energetic son, a smile tugging at her lips. "Good morning, Izuku." He quickly returned her greeting before resuming his bouncing.

"Did you hear that through the door?" she asked, raising an eyebrow. "That’s very rude, you know."

Izuku looked sheepish. "Sorry, Mom."

"It’s fine," she said, shaking her head. "Katsuki’s coming over today around lunchtime to play. But first, help me get the table ready for breakfast. Then we’ll clean up a little before they get here."

Izuku’s excitement surged again as he raced to prepare the table. Breakfast passed in a comfortable silence, with Izuku too busy shoveling food into his mouth to chat much. He nearly choked twice but managed to finish his meal without incident. Afterward, Inko began washing the dishes, but not without reminding Izuku to clean his room. He was still too young to do much, but it was a good start. The house was already fairly tidy, so there wasn’t much to do anyway.

Just as they finished, a knock came at the door. Izuku’s excitement was unstoppable, and he jumped onto the couch, dramatically launching himself off before running to the door. Inko barely held back a shriek at the speed with which he moved, but to her relief, he landed gracefully and threw the door open.

"Kacchan!!!" Izuku shouted, pulling his friend into a tight hug.

"Let go of me, Deku!" Katsuki growled, though his tone was more playful than angry as he pushed the other boy away.

"Behave, brat," Mitsuki’s voice rang out as she followed her son inside. She gave Inko a knowing smile. "Well, Inko, what's going on?"

The two women exchanged a brief glance before Inko hesitated. She took a deep breath, then met her friend’s eyes. "Izuku presented as an Omega... and I need you to talk to Katsuki. I need you to convince him to be his mate."

___________

"Come on, Kacchan! I finally got my Quirk!" Izuku exclaimed, his eyes shining with excitement.

Katsuki frowned at the mention of the Quirk. Though he’d never admit it, he had been terrified when Izuku had almost been hit by that car, only to somehow teleport out of the way—before collapsing afterward. He never wanted to see that happen again.

"I know, stupid Deku, I was there. You’re not just going to pass out again, right?"

Izuku beamed, quick to reassure him. "Don’t worry! I practiced a bit yesterday, so I should be okay now!"

Katsuki didn’t look convinced, but he didn’t voice any more concerns. Izuku rushed to demonstrate his Quirk, excited to show off. "Actually, my Quirk is even cooler than teleportation! It’s not as great as yours, though!" he added quickly.

He grabbed a ball and tossed it to Katsuki. "Throw it somewhere random and I’ll catch it before it hits anything!"

Katsuki shrugged and tossed it in the air. "Stop!" Izuku shouted, and the ball disappeared. When it reappeared, Izuku was standing right in front of him, holding the ball.

Katsuki’s eyes narrowed in awe, but he quickly smirked. "Yeah. It’s pretty damn cool, nerd."

Izuku’s grin was blinding. "Now we can be heroes together!"

But Katsuki’s expression shifted. "What are you talking about?"

Izuku stopped bouncing, confused. "What do you mean, Kacchan? I thought you wanted to be heroes together?"

Katsuki scoffed, his words sharp. "You can’t be a hero. You’re an Omega, Deku. Just like I said you’d be."

Izuku’s smile faltered. Even as a young child, he could feel the exact moment his heart shattered.

___________

Mitsuki wasn’t particularly surprised to learn that Izuku was an Omega. The boy certainly matched the typical characteristics; smaller than most boys his age, a bit meek, overly emotional, and an absolute sweetheart. However, she was taken aback when Inko asked her to have her son claim Izuku. Without hesitation, Mitsuki agreed. “Sure.” Inko blinked at her in surprise, as though expecting more resistance or at least some questioning. But honestly, Mitsuki had always adored Izuku, and she thought the boy would be good for Katsuki. Perhaps having someone to care for would help mellow him out a bit.

“R-Really? Just like that?” Inko asked, her voice uncertain.

Mitsuki gave a shrug, her tone light, almost casual. “Sure, why not? Izuku’s good for my brat. He’ll keep him grounded. And Katsuki will take care of him. He may be rough around the edges, but he’s not cruel. At least not to people he cares about.”

“But you even know what facility he’ll be sent to?” Inko pressed, her brow furrowed in concern.

Omegas were divided into five facilities based on their Quirks. Facility-A for the strongest, Facility-E for the more common, less powerful. The better the Omega’s Quirk, the higher the price tag to claim them. The children of pro-heroes or politicians often claimed from Facility-A. If an Omega wasn’t chosen within a year, they moved to the next tier, lower in price and status. And if they remained unchosen for three years, the consequences were unclear, though no one was brave enough to ask what happened to them in Facility-E.

“Not yet,” Inko responded, her voice steadier now that Mitsuki had agreed. “I’ll drop Izuku off by the end of the week. I’ll give them my details, and then they’ll contact me with more information.” Her gaze dropped to the floor. “I just don’t want him to end up with someone who’ll hurt him.”

Mitsuki, understanding the fear behind her words, gave her a soft smile. “Don’t worry, Inko. I’ll make sure Katsuki treats him right.” She paused, a teasing glint in her eyes. “Although, from what Katsuki’s told me, Izuku’s got a pretty rare Quirk. He might end up in Facility-C or something.”

Inko nodded, relieved, but the worry didn’t leave her eyes. “That’s good, right? But—”

“Yeah,” Mitsuki interrupted, brushing off her concern. “It’s just gonna cost a lot to buy him back. It might take a year or two, maybe three, until we can gather enough money.”

“Of course, I’ll help you pay!” Inko interjected quickly, her voice filled with urgency.

Mitsuki just shook her head, a warm smile on her face. “No need. Masaru and I are fine. But it’s not gonna be immediate. You know how it goes.” She glanced at the clock. “Look, don’t worry about it. We’ll figure it out.”

Inko nodded, trying to hide the growing pit of anxiety in her stomach. She was doing what she thought was best for Izuku, but something about the entire arrangement felt wrong. Still, if anyone could ensure Katsuki would take care of him, it was Mitsuki. “Thank you,” Inko whispered, her voice trembling.

Mitsuki gave her a reassuring pat on the shoulder. “It’s no big deal. We’ll figure it out.”

With the weight now lifted off her shoulders, Inko quickly checked the clock and nearly did a double-take at how late it had gotten. “We better call those two in for lunch before they get cranky!”

___________

Tears immediately flooded Izuku’s face at Katsuki’s harsh words. “His chest heaved as he tried to steady his breath. The harsh words Katsuki had thrown at him, the disbelief that Izuku could ever become a hero, echoed in his ears. How could Katsuki not believe in him? How could his best friend, his Kacchan , say that? His heart ached, his spirit bruised in ways he couldn’t understand.

Izuku rushed to the kitchen, seeking the comfort of his mother. She always believed in him, no matter what. He burst into the room, collapsing into her arms. “Mom… K-Katsuki... he said I couldn’t... be a hero...” The words tumbled out in a disjointed mess, barely coherent through his tears.

Inko's heart broke hearing his pain. She knelt to comfort him, brushing his hair out of his face. Her own panic, her own anxiety about what was coming next, didn't seem to help him calm down. “Sweetie, it’s okay,” Inko said gently, her voice shaking. “Katsuki... he’s just worried about you getting hurt. You’re strong, Izuku. You’ll show him, won’t you?”

Izuku took a shaky breath, his sobs slowing, but doubt lingered in his eyes. “Yeah… I’ll show him how strong I am. I’ll make you both proud.”

Inko smiled weakly, though her own worries clouded her expression. She kissed the top of his head. “I know you will. You’ll be a great hero, Izuku.” But in her heart, there was a nagging fear. She didn’t want to see Izuku’s dreams shattered. She didn’t want him to lose everything before he even had a chance to fight for it.

She  gave him a weak smile, her own worries lingering behind her expression. “I believe in you, Izuku. I know you’ll be a great hero.” She stood up, attempting to change the subject. “Do you think you’re ready to see Katsuki again?”

Izuku froze, shaking his head frantically. He might have been eager to prove his worth, but he knew himself well enough to understand that seeing Katsuki right now would only lead to more tears. Inko sighed but nodded understandingly. “It’s okay, dear. Why don’t you go wash up for lunch? You can see Katsuki another time.”

With a shaky nod, Izuku walked past his bedroom and into the bathroom. Though his door was shut, he could still hear the shouting between his best friend and his mother from inside. There was no way he was getting caught in the middle of that!

___________

Later, when Katsuki stormed out, shouting and pouting, Inko’s heart twisted again. “Some time apart will do them both good,” Mitsuki said, her voice almost too casual. “Besides, Izuku will see that he’s not cut out for hero work at the facility.”

Inko barely heard her. The words blurred as her mind raced. She didn’t want to see Izuku’s dreams crushed, but more than anything, she didn’t want him to disappear, to be taken from her forever. She nodded, offering a faint smile to her friend.

“Don’t worry, Inko,” Mitsuki added, turning toward the door. “I’ll make sure my brat chooses Izuku. We’ll make sure he’s safe, I promise.”

Inko’s lips trembled, but she couldn’t speak. All she could do was nod, desperately hoping that this plan would keep Izuku safe, that he would be treated well, and that no one would take him from her.

___________

Katsuki slammed his fist against the wall, his temper flaring. “What?! I don’t want that stupid Deku as my mate!” he shouted at his mother, seething with fury.

Mitsuki didn’t even flinch. She simply shrugged, seemingly indifferent, before turning to walk away.

“If you don’t think you can handle it...” she began, her voice cold.

Katsuki’s rage bubbled over. “WHAT?! LIKE HELL I CAN’T HANDLE IT! I’M GOING TO BE THE STRONGEST ALPHA EVER! STRONGER THAN ALL MIGHT!”

Mitsuki’s casual dismissal, her final words, hit a nerve. “All Might could handle an Omega,” she said, her voice smooth. “But I guess you’re not as strong as him, huh?”

With a snarl, Katsuki’s hands crackled with explosive energy, and his palms glowed with power. “Fine! I’ll take that shitty Deku as my mate!”

Mitsuki didn’t turn around to see the fury in his eyes. She knew exactly what she was doing, and as the smirk spread across her face, she knew it had worked.

___________

The week passed far too quickly. Izuku and Katsuki spent every moment together, rarely leaving each other's side at their mother’s insistence. But the day came when Izuku had to leave. Despite the tears and protests, there was no stopping it. He wasn’t allowed to bring much; just his clothes and a few personal items, but once packed, the Midoriyas drove to the facility in a tense silence.

The building was large, sterile, and gray, with windows lining the upper floors. Izuku stepped out of the car and walked beside his mother, his head low. Inko squeezed his hand, just as she had when he had first presented.

A receptionist greeted them with a forced smile, handing Inko the necessary forms. The chime of an elevator bell echoed through the space. Izuku’s heart beat faster, both excited and terrified. There was nothing to do now but wait.

Chapter Text

A tall man with navy-blue skin, a clean-shaven head, and a perfectly pressed black suit strode toward them confidently. His wide smile held no warmth, only formality. “You must be the Midoriyas.”

Inko nodded politely, offering a nervous smile of her own. Izuku, standing stiffly by her side, said nothing. The man chuckled lightly as if at a private joke. “You can call me Mr. Blue,” he said, his voice clipped. “Everyone does. At this point, it would feel strange to answer to anything else.”

“It’s a pleasure to meet you,” Inko replied, her voice careful but kind. She nudged Izuku gently, encouraging him to speak. “N-nice to meet you, sir,” the boy mumbled, barely audible, and shifted closer to his mother as if for protection. Mr. Blue hardly spared him a glance.

“I’m terribly sorry about this,” Mr. Blue continued briskly, “but it’s time for you to say goodbye to little Izuku here. On the papers you’ll receive, there’s a number you can use to contact the facility. You’ll be allowed to call twice a month on specific days. If you miss one, there are no exceptions—you’ll have to wait for the next call day.”

Inko blinked, startled by the rapid delivery of information, but nodded. “R-right.” She knelt down, pulling Izuku into a tight embrace. He clung to her with all his might. “I’ll see you soon, okay?” she whispered.

“I’ll miss you…” Izuku’s voice was barely audible, but it hit her like a freight train.

“I’ll miss you too, baby,” she choked out, her tears spilling freely. A throat-clearing noise cut through their moment. Mr. Blue stood by, his posture impatient.

With great reluctance, mother and son pulled apart. Matching trails of tears shone on their faces.

“Come along, Midoriya,” Mr. Blue said, his tone leaving no room for defiance. Izuku already disliked him.

“I’ll see you soon,” Inko repeated, her voice trembling. Izuku waved sadly as he shuffled after Mr. Blue. The last thing he saw before the elevator doors shut was his mother’s tear-filled smile.

__________

The elevator ride was oppressively silent, lacking even the distraction of cheerful music. Mr. Blue stood ramrod straight, hands clasped behind his back. Occasionally, he cast a sharp glance at Izuku, wordlessly criticizing the boy’s hunched posture. Izuku squirmed, trying unsuccessfully to shrink into himself.

A loud ding announced their arrival. The doors slid open, and Mr. Blue stepped out without a backward glance, his long strides forcing Izuku to scramble to keep up.

The hallway they entered was a sterile ivory, lined with numbered doors. It was utterly devoid of life—no paintings, no plants, not even a window. After what felt like an eternity, they stopped at a door labeled Room 509-A RP . The letters “RP” seemed unique to this door, but Izuku couldn’t understand their meaning.

Mr. Blue pushed the door open and unceremoniously nudged the boy inside. The room mirrored the hallway in its starkness. Its only furnishings were a desk, three chairs, and a single lamp casting harsh light. An ancient computer sat atop the desk alongside meticulously stacked papers.

The door closed with a resounding click . Mr. Blue gestured to a chair across the desk, and Izuku sat stiffly. The man settled into the seat behind the desk and spent several minutes shuffling papers, ignoring the boy entirely.

Finally, he looked up, his cold eyes locking onto Izuku. His smile was as plastic as the ones on mannequins. “Welcome, Mr. Midoriya,” he said smoothly. “As I mentioned earlier, I am Mr. Blue. I oversee Facility-A, where you will be staying. Think of me as the principal of this establishment.”

Izuku nodded mutely, but Mr. Blue’s expression darkened. “From now on, you will respond with ‘Yes, sir.’ Understand?”

“Y-yes, sir…” Izuku stammered.

“Good. Now, there are a few rules you must know before you’re taken to your room. Most are common sense—behave as you would at school or home. Disobedience, however, will result in punishment. Do you understand so far?”

“Y-yes, sir!”

Mr. Blue nodded in approval and launched into a seemingly endless list of rules.

__________

An hour later, Izuku’s head was swimming. He had barely managed to stay awake through Mr. Blue’s monotonous recital. If there was one thing Izuku had learned, it was that Mr. Blue loved rules almost as much as Izuku loved heroes.

The sudden slam of hands on the desk jolted him upright. Mr. Blue stood abruptly and strode to the door without looking back. “Follow me,” he barked.

Izuku scrambled after him, still groggy. The silence returned as they took yet another elevator ride and traversed another blank hallway. Finally, they arrived at a military-style jeep parked behind the building. The driver, a gruff man with a permanent scowl, rolled down his window and ordered, “Get in.”

Izuku obeyed without question. The doors locked, and they were off.

__________

Facility A was as drab and uninviting as every other building Izuku had seen that day. Its gray, fortress-like walls were topped with barbed wire, and stern-faced security guards stood rigidly at the gates, their weapons holstered but ever-present. Izuku had never set foot in a prison, but if he had, he imagined it would look just like this. Mr. Blue flashed an ID card to one of the guards, who silently waved them through. Izuku shifted in his seat to watch the gates close behind them but was promptly scolded for it.

The car rattled down a long gravel path toward the main building. The only notable difference between this structure and the others he’d seen was the barred windows that lined its walls. ‘ That must be where the rooms are’ , he thought, sliding out of the seat as soon as the driver opened the door. Izuku offered the driver a polite wave, which went ignored, and hurried after Mr. Blue, whose long strides forced him into a jog.

As they approached the building, Izuku noted the meticulously trimmed grass, devoid of flowers, bushes, or even stray leaves. The sterility of it all left him sighing in frustration. ‘ Whoever designed this place should definitely be fired’ , he mused bitterly.

Mr. Blue pushed open the heavy double doors with a groan, revealing a large rectangular room. Compared to the lifeless exterior, the interior was surprisingly colorful. Dark red curtains framed the windows, polished oak floors gleamed underfoot, and potted plants leaned against ivory walls. A round rug in the center, patterned with red, white, and gold swirls, completed the room's aesthetic. Izuku’s eyes were drawn to five figures standing on the rug in a neat line, their postures as stiff as Mr. Blue’s.

Three of them were children around his age, flanked by two adults. Izuku used the moment of silence to study his apparent new roommates. The tallest of the three stood at the center—a girl with amber hair styled in twin pigtails that rested on her shoulders. Her soft green eyes radiated an odd sense of comfort, though her expression revealed nothing. To her left stood the smallest of the group, a girl with deep blue hair braided loosely over one shoulder and glowing seafoam-green eyes. On the right was a boy with unruly red hair that looked like it had been hacked with scissors. Izuku startled slightly at the sight of his eyes: pitch black with glowing white pupils. They were unnerving, but Izuku forced himself to look away.

The children wore blank expressions, though subtle twitches betrayed their discomfort. The adults, in contrast, stood perfectly still, their plastic smiles unblinking and unsettling. Izuku wondered for a moment if they were even real. Deciding the question was both rude and unwise, he kept it to himself.

“Everyone, this is Izuku Midoriya, your new roommate,” Mr. Blue announced, shoving Izuku forward. He stumbled but managed to steady himself and bowed awkwardly. “N-nice to m-meet you all...” he stammered. The other children mirrored his bow in perfect synchronization, their greetings eerily mechanical.

Mr. Blue continued the introductions, pointing to the red-haired boy first. “This is Hisakawa Yuuto.” He gestured to the kind-eyed girl in the center. “Maki Aneko.” Finally, he indicated the blue-haired girl. “And Hamasaki Kana.”

Izuku swallowed the urge to repeat his greeting, unsure if speaking out of turn would lead to punishment.

Next, Mr. Blue motioned toward the two adults. “These are your monitors,” he said dismissively. “They’ll ensure you’re in your room at night, explain the rules, and handle punishments if needed. If you have any issues, report to them, and they’ll take care of it.”

“Now. I’ve got to get back to my office. They’ll lead all of you back to your room and you can get to know each other a bit before you head to the dining hall,” without further elaboration, Mr. Blue turned on his heel and left, the heavy doors closing behind him. Izuku exhaled a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding, relieved to see the intimidating man leave. Glancing at the others, he noticed the tension in the room seemed to lift slightly. The monitors exchanged a glance, their rigid expressions softening as they murmured, “Follow us,” before leading the group toward a hallway on the far left.

The other children visibly relaxed as well. The girl in the center stepped forward, extending a hand to Izuku with a soft smile. He hesitated only a moment before taking it, returning her gesture with a small, grateful smile. Together, they walked in a loose, single-file line toward their assigned room. At the door, the older male monitor opened it for them but gently held Izuku back before he could step inside.

"Hey there, kiddo," he began with a kind smile, his tone warm and reassuring. "I know this place can seem intimidating at first, but we’re just down the hall if you need anything. And these three? They’ll have your back while you’re here. Your things are already on one of the bunks, so unpack quickly if you want to avoid another run-in with Mr. Blue." The man's voice softened further, his previously formal demeanor slipping away into something more human.

The female monitor crouched beside him, her expression equally kind. "We weren’t properly introduced earlier," she said. "I’m Aiya Fujisaki, and this is Hikaru Kagawa." She gestured to the man standing nearby. "The others can probably explain how things work here better than we can, but we’re here if you ever need help. We’ll do our best to make this easier for you."

Though Izuku wasn’t great at reading people, he could sense their genuine effort to comfort him. He felt a flicker of relief—Mr. Blue had been awful, and after being yanked away from his mother and thrust into this unfamiliar place, he wasn’t sure how he would’ve handled more hostility. "Thank you," he said sincerely, managing a wide, if shaky, smile. It wasn’t his brightest, but it was the best he could muster. Their understanding smiles in return told him they got it.

“We’ll see you soon, Midoriya,” Hikaru said, stepping aside as Izuku finally entered the room.

The space was small and plain, with ivory-colored walls and a single window letting in dim light. Two sets of bunk beds lined opposite walls. Maki sat on the top bunk to the left, while Hamasaki sprawled comfortably below her. Hisakawa, on the other hand, was practically bouncing off the walls, his energy barely contained.

As the door clicked shut, Hisakawa whirled around and, with a grin, nearly tackled Izuku in a hug that knocked the breath out of him. "Finally! Another boy!" he exclaimed dramatically. "You have no idea what it’s like being stuck with two girls all the time!"

Izuku didn’t need to look at Hamasaki to know she was rolling her eyes. “Hisakawa, you’re going to suffocate him if you don’t let go soon,” Maki said, her voice light with amusement.

Relieved when Hisakawa finally released him, Izuku barely had a chance to catch his breath before being dragged across the room to the opposite bunk. His belongings were neatly stacked next to a much messier pile of clothes and random action figures.

“I cleared out my stuff from the bunk so you can pick whichever one you want!” Hisakawa declared, grinning brightly.

Izuku couldn’t help but smile back, his earlier nerves easing. He hadn’t been sure what to expect from having roommates, but this stranger’s efforts to make him feel welcome filled him with unexpected happiness. He glanced over at the two girls. While he didn’t know them well yet, they seemed kind enough. Maybe this wouldn’t be so bad.

A light tap on his shoulder pulled him from his thoughts. He turned to see Hamasaki and Maki standing together. For the first time, Hamasaki spoke, her voice steady but slightly awkward. "This place sucks sometimes," she admitted, "but you’re one of us now. So, um, we’ve got your back and stuff."

Maki grinned, throwing her arms out in a dramatic gesture. "Welcome to Facility-A!" she proclaimed, her voice light and welcoming.

Izuku’s chest tightened at their words. He didn’t want to be here. He didn’t want to be an Omega, separated from his mother and thrust into this strange facility. But their small gestures—clearing out a bunk, offering words of reassurance—were enough to chip away at his despair. They were trying, and they were going through the same thing he was. Maybe, just maybe, things wouldn’t be so terrible after all.

Tears welled in his eyes, blurring his vision. Without thinking, he mimicked Hisakawa’s earlier enthusiasm and flung himself at the group in a hug. They froze for a moment, clearly startled, before tentatively wrapping their arms around him in return.

“T-thank you...” he whispered, his voice trembling.

For the first time since he awakened, he felt the smallest flicker of hope. He wasn’t alone anymore—he had three new friends, and that was a start.

Chapter Text

Surprisingly, Izuku adapted quickly to his new surroundings. The teachers were kind— most of them, at least, as long as Mr. Blue wasn’t around—and they worked hard to make him feel at ease. They were much better than his old teachers, that was certain. For the most part, the other kids were friendly and accepting, but like anywhere, there were always those who felt superior. It didn’t take long to identify them after just a few conversations. Maki, who everyone called big sis despite being younger than most, made it a point to keep him as far from them as possible.

By the end of the first month at the facility, Izuku found himself smiling more often. He missed his mom, of course, but the monthly calls were something to look forward to. He’d made a lot of new friends, too. Three other Omegas had arrived after him, though his teacher, Ms. Hana, explained that it was rare for an Omega to be placed at Facility-A due to strict Quirk requirements. Izuku didn’t fully understand what that meant, but there wasn’t time to dwell on it as class was about to start.

Life at the facility wasn’t perfect, though. Mr. Blue remained an ever-present shadow. His unpredictable comings and goings struck fear into everyone. Teachers always reacted the same way when they sensed him approaching—they grew pale, their faces blank. It didn’t matter where they were: hallways, classrooms, or even the cafeteria. The moment Mr. Blue neared, the teachers would lose all color and life. It was like they turned into walking corpses.

Izuku found it terrifying, and so did many of the other kids. Yet, no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t figure out the nature of Mr. Blue’s Quirk, and whenever he asked the teachers, they refused to answer.

The first time Izuku truly witnessed the effect of Mr. Blue’s Quirk was during his first week in Ms. Hana’s class.

Ms. Hana was easily one of the kindest teachers at the facility. She seemed to radiate warmth and sunshine, always smiling and bringing positivity to the classroom. Her short, pixie-cut hair was a soft golden color, and her lilac eyes shone with warmth. Freckles dotted her sun-kissed skin, and she often joked that her cheerful attitude came from the "angel kisses" she believed were sent from above. If angels loved her, she saw no reason to be sad.

Ms. Hana was an Omega, and like many of the teachers, she had a nurturing, almost motherly presence. Izuku often looked forward to her class, sometimes more than even Quirk training. She supported his dream of becoming a hero and even encouraged him to explore broader interests. When he mentioned his habit of jotting down notes about heroes and their Quirks, Ms. Hana brought him a notebook the next day, its cover adorned with a rose print. It was one of his most treasured possessions, a tangible sign that someone believed in him.

That day, the class had been working on basic math, simple addition and subtraction. With some extra time on hand, Ms. Hana decided to teach the kids how to make flower crowns using her Quirk, Blossom. The children, ranging from four to five years old, eagerly gathered around her, sitting in a circle as she taught them the weaving techniques.

The classroom had been filled with joy and light—until everything suddenly stopped. Mid-instruction, Ms. Hana paused, her smile freezing before falling into an expression of blankness. Her lilac eyes dulled, and her once-sunlit skin grew pale. Just like that, the room's energy shifted, and the warmth dissipated.

There was an eerie silence before the other students moved in unison. Five kids leapt up, grabbing every flower they could find, even snatching them from Ms. Hana’s hands before hurriedly stashing them in the supply closet. Two girls—one with a Quirk that boosted strength and another with a light manipulation ability—rushed to Ms. Hana, one lifting her under the arms while the other tried to force her to stand straight. The rest of the class scrambled to put the desks and chairs back in place with practiced movements.

Izuku sat frozen, unable to understand what was happening. A girl with stark white hair and steely gray eyes seemed to notice his confusion. She cursed under her breath before rushing over to him and gripping his elbow. “Get up!” she hissed. “Come on! I know your confused, but we have to act like we’ve been studying the whole time.”

Izuku’s heart raced, the urgency in her voice shaking him out of his stupor. He stood up and moved to his desk with her, sliding into his seat. She whispered, “I’ll explain everything later. Just don’t do anything stupid.”

No sooner had he settled into his chair than the classroom door slid open with an unsettling creak.

Mr. Blue stood in the doorway, dressed in his crisp black suit, his gaze sweeping the room with barely contained distaste. His shiny, hairless head seemed to glow unnaturally in the light. Izuku couldn’t help but feel his stomach churn.

The students all turned in unison, and the room went completely still. “Hello, class,” Mr. Blue greeted, his smile like plastic. The children responded in monotonous unison, Izuku’s voice nearly drowned out by the others. “What have you been learning today?” he asked, though he didn’t wait for an answer.

With swift, heavy steps, Mr. Blue moved through the rows of children until he stopped at the back of the room, right in front of Izuku. A wave of dread rolled through the room, thick and oppressive. “How about you, Mr. Midoriya?” His voice was cold, and his eyes drilled into Izuku’s. “Why don’t you tell me what you’ve learned today?”

Izuku’s heart raced as he straightened in his seat. He had never been good at lying—especially not successfully. The guilt weighed on him too much for even small fibs. But judging by the tense faces of the kids around him, he knew that not lying would be much worse. He glanced around, meeting the frantic gazes of his classmates, then looked at Ms. Hana, whose expression had gone completely blank. He recalled a line from a TV show his mom used to watch: Tell the truth, but not the whole truth .

It was the only thing that came to mind.

“We... we learned how to add double digits,” he stammered, his voice trembling. He couldn’t make eye contact, but he was proud that he hadn’t burst into tears. Maybe it was a small victory.

Mr. Blue’s eyes narrowed, his smile stretching wider. “Did you now? Have you been learning that the whole time?” His voice was dangerously quiet.

Izuku swallowed, hands shaking. “Y-Yes, sir.” The silence in the room was suffocating. Then, Mr. Blue nodded curtly and turned on his heel, heading for the door.

“Keep up the good work, children,” he said with that same plastic smile before stepping out. The door clicked shut behind him.

For a long moment, no one moved. Then, two minutes passed. Five minutes. Finally, Ms. Hana blinked, color creeping back into her cheeks as the spark of life returned to her eyes. She ruffled the hair of the closest students, giving them a small, albeit pained, smile. “I’m alright, everyone. No worries.”

The class breathed a collective sigh of relief. Souko, the girl who had pulled Izuku away earlier, nudged him again. “Hey, we haven’t talked much,” she said. “I’m Souko Kubota. But call me Souko. Or Frosty! Everyone does.” A voice from across the room muttered, “No one calls you that,” but was quickly silenced by a sharp glare.

Izuku smiled at her. Now that the chaos had settled, he could finally take a good look at his classmate. Her white hair was styled in two braids, and she wore a long-sleeved azure dress with a white belt.

“I’m Izuku Midoriya,” he introduced himself. “Call me whatever you want.”

Souko nodded, then turned to their teacher. “Teach! We’ve got some explaining to do!” She beamed at Izuku. “This dummy over here was sitting like a log when you went all limp—” The teacher winced at the choice of words, but no one commented. “We’ve got to tell him what happens before he almost gets us in trouble.”

Ms. Hana opened her mouth to speak, but Souko was already talking again. “And your lying sucks. You’re gonna need to get better at that. The only reason Mr. Blue bought it was because you’re new. He probably thought you wouldn’t lie.” She paused, noticing Ms. Hana’s warning glare. “Alright, alright. I’ll stop.”

Izuku hesitated, then asked, “Is this about why the adults look sick whenever Mr. Blue shows up?”

Ms. Hana nodded. “That’s part of it. But there’s more to it.” she seemed hesitant to continue talking, her eyes darting to the door as if afraid he may reappear at any moment. “Everyone, go get out a piece of paper and draw what you want to be when you grow up. I’m going to explain everything to Midoriya” The class nodded and went to do as she said. Souko hesitated for a second before grabbing his arm again “We’re gonna be friends,” there was no room in her tone for arguments “So you can sit with me at lunch” and before he could say anything else, she skipped off to her desk.

“Now then. Come along, I’ll explain everything as best I can”

__________

She didn’t explain Mr. Blue’s Quirk as he had hoped. But she did explain that it was the reason adults went seemingly lifeless around him. She also told him about how he would stop by classrooms, gyms, lunchrooms, and even the bedrooms at random times and ask what they were doing. She didn’t say why he did it, but Izuku suspects it was for some sort of control.

He really didn’t like Mr. Blue.

When she finished explaining the cues to look out for when Mr. Blue was near, Ms. Hana gave him a small, reassuring smile. She gestured for him to go back into the classroom. The other students' heads snapped to attention when he resented the room before they relaxed seeing that it was only him and Ms. Hana. Quickly he returned to his seat, and the lesson began prompt where they left off. Izuku sat at his desk, still stunned, but he knew one thing for sure—he had no idea how, but this was his new reality.

__________

True to her word, Souko all but forced Izuku to eat lunch with her every day after that. Thankfully, she allowed him to invite Maki, Hamasaki, and Hisakawa to join them, which made things easier as he was still nervous around the other girl. The two girls who had helped pick up the teacher also sat with them. The girl with the Booster Quirk was Aimée Brodeur, a quiet and somewhat jittery girl who, despite being friendly, barely said more than a few sentences. “She’s just shy,” Souko assured, before casually reaching over to snatch a handful of the pretzels Aimée was nibbling on. Aimée kept her head down, tugging at her spiky black hair, as though trying to make it longer to hide behind.

The other girl, Hinata Mochizuki, had a Light Quirk and reminded Izuku of Kacchan—loud and confident, though she didn’t seem to have any intention of putting others down. Instead, she took it upon herself to challenge or dare as many people as possible, as often as possible. Her bright purple hair and pale, almost ethereal white skin seemed to unsettle some people, but Hisakawa’s unsettling eyes did the same thing, so the group had long since learned to ignore the occasional stares.

All things considered, they weren’t a bad bunch, and Izuku found himself enjoying their company. The best part, however, was gym class. By the time it rolled around, they were all placed together—probably thanks to the combined whining of Souko, Mochizuki, and Hisakawa, until Ms. Hana caved and put them in the same section.

The gym was a large, square room with ugly blue walls and no windows. Square lights hung from the ceiling, casting a blinding white light that illuminated everything in sight. A trio of teachers sat by the entrance on foldable chairs, watching with mild interest as the students filtered in, chattering excitedly. “Hey! Before we start, do you mind if I take notes on your Quirks later?” Izuku asked as they entered, eager to begin documenting. It would help him a lot if they were okay with him making notes.

“Of course!” Souko and Hisakawa shouted, practically bouncing in excitement. After their first meeting, the two of them had become fast friends. Izuku had gotten used to their volume by now, so he no longer jumped in surprise at their exuberance. The others simply nodded with small smiles.

“Why do you need to write down our Quirks?” an unfamiliar voice asked from behind them. The group turned in unison to face the newcomer. A small girl stood there, her posture rigid and gaze colder than any child’s should be. Her golden blonde hair fell to her shoulders, held back by shiny clips that kept it neatly out of her face.

Izuku smiled kindly, trying to ease the tension. “Oh, well it’s just something I did back home. I like studying Quirks, and I think it’ll help me in fights when I become a hero. Plus, I just got a new notebook to start writing in!” he said, holding out his notebook for her to see. Instead of the excitement he expected, her face scrunched up in disgust.

“What do you mean, when you become a hero? We’re Omegas,” she stated coolly, her tone carrying an edge. “We can’t be heroes unless our Alphas want us to. And even then, you’ll probably only be doing paperwork.”

Izuku blinked, taken aback by her bluntness. Before he could respond, Souko interjected loudly, “Oh, buzz off! What are you doing here, anyway? We signed up first!”

The small girl barely flinched at the outburst. “Eight people are assigned to each gym at a time,” she explained in a detached manner. “You needed one more person to tag along, so I was assigned here.” She paused for a beat, then added, “My name is Kenna Bando,” gesturing toward herself, and with a stiff nod, she turned away.

Izuku smiled awkwardly, and one by one, the others introduced themselves. Souko looked like it physically pained her to even speak to the girl, but she managed a forced greeting.

At that moment, a teacher called their attention, bringing the group back to the task at hand. “Alright, everyone,” the teacher said, her voice commanding. “Get into pairs and head off into one of the sections. You’ll work together to come up with ways to use each other’s Quirks, but until you’ve got a better grasp on them, I suggest you wait before using them on or with another person. Understood?”

The group nodded in agreement, excitement building as they split into pairs. Izuku and Mochizuki quickly teamed up and headed to the far back of the room on the right side. Souko and Hisakawa, their bond now inseparable, only needed a glance before they were sprinting to the back left. Maki and Hamasaki nodded to each other, then moved to the front left corner, while Bando, without a word, walked toward the only empty space left. Aimée, trailing behind, followed her hesitantly.
__________

“Alright, guys!” Souko’s voice rang out as they left the gym after what could only be described as a chaotic free-for-all where they all mesed around with their Quirks instead of just practicing like they were supposed to take part in. “Since we’re all best friends now, we need to come up with nicknames for each other!”

Despite their exhaustion, the group perked up, trying to shake off the fatigue. Izuku, though, was feeling the effects of pushing himself too hard and had ended up with a nosebleed after his thirty-minute limit. Thankfully, the time freeze in the gym meant no one had noticed, and he used the downtime to scribble some quick notes.

Hisakawa, ever eager to tease, asked with a grin, “Do you want us to call you Sou-chan or something?”

Souko, however, just shook her head with a frown. “No way! My nickname is Frosty! It’s what my older sister calls me because of my hair and Quirk!”

“But you don’t make ice or snow,” Mochizuki pointed out, her voice full of confusion.

“True! But I still freeze things!” Souko replied cheerfully, clearly not bothered by the contradiction.

“Alright then,” Mochizuki said, throwing her hands up, “what should our nicknames be?”

Souko tapped her chin thoughtfully, then grinned. “Hmm… I have no idea! But that’s the whole point—let’s come up with them together!”

Izuku, eager to get things settled, reminded them, “We’ll have plenty of time to come up with nicknames later. We’re going to be here for years.”

“But we should get going before the teachers catch us goofing off,” Maki said, her voice suddenly serious.

“Sure thing, big sis!” Hisakawa exclaimed, rushing ahead to catch up with Souko. The rest of the group followed, nodding in agreement as they made their way toward their next class, eager to avoid trouble.

Chapter Text

Once Bando discovered Izuku’s notes and dreams of becoming a hero, she made it her mission to make his life unbearable.

Everyone in the facility knew the consequences of breaking the rules, and no one wanted to endure the punishment. Lying was another offense, but it came with surprisingly lenient consequences compared to other rules. As a result, an unspoken bond formed among the children—an understanding that they'd protect each other, even if they didn't always get along.

Bando, however, shattered that understanding the first chance she got.

The threats Mr. Blue made about rule-breaking were not idle warnings. Izuku learned that firsthand after his first offense. All he did was activate his Quirk when a teacher tripped, scattering papers and supplies across the room. Normally, he would have just helped pick up the mess, but when the scissors flew into the air, instinct took over.

Izuku wasn’t sure if he had saved anyone from harm, but he didn’t regret grabbing the sharp objects, even if it meant being left out in the cold for three hours, his back raw from the whipping.

It didn’t stop there. Any minor mistake, no matter how trivial—taking a pencil that didn’t belong to him, eating someone else’s food, or similar petty infractions—was reported by Bando. And the punishments were always severe, often leaving him to take the brunt of the consequences. He couldn’t shield his friends physically, but he shielded them with his actions. Mr. Blue didn’t care who was hurt as long as someone paid the price.

Thankfully, the facility had a nurse with a healing Quirk, one that only activated when she placed her feet on a wound, which meant that the physical damage, though painful, didn’t leave lasting scars.

Despite Bando’s efforts to isolate him, she became a pariah. The other children, and even most of the teachers, too, shunned her, though she didn’t seem to care. She surrounded herself with a small group of followers who hung on her every word, preaching about the honor of being an Omega and how they would bring pride to their families by obeying their future mates. It was a mindset that reminded Izuku of Bakugou, and it troubled him how many seemed to truly believe in it.

Time passed in a blur of routines. The schedules never changed, and the only variation came when Izuku—usually for reasons he couldn’t even remember—was called away for punishment.

The beatings left him aching, but no matter how hard he tried to avoid trouble, they always seemed to find new ways to punish him. He stopped trying to understand or “fix” whatever mistakes they thought he made. He asked the teachers why so many things seemed deserving of punishment, but their uncomfortable reactions—glancing around as if expecting someone to overhear—left him with no answers. Eventually, they’d just tell him to go back to class.

It was nearing the end of his first year at the facility when an older Omega, about to leave for their first selling date, answered the question that had been weighing on Izuku’s mind. The boy, flinching at the very mention of the rules, leaned in close and whispered, “They’re showing us how worthless we are. We’re only supposed to do what we’re told. If we don’t obey, they punish us.”

Izuku frowned, confusion spreading across his face. “But that doesn’t make any sense. Why make us follow these stupid rules, just to make us feel worthless?”

The older boy’s eyes darted around nervously, speaking in hushed tones. “I’ve heard rumors… Mr. Blue’s Quirk has something to do with the pain.”

Izuku blinked. “It helps cause the pain?”

“No,” the older boy whispered, “It feeds off the pain.”

Izuku’s mind spun, but before he could ask more, another voice spoke from the shadows. It was Hisakawa, unusually serious.

“What do you mean, Yuchan?” Izuku asked, his voice barely above a whisper as he shifted closer to his friend.

Hisakawa took a deep breath, eyes closed in thought. “You know my Quirk lets me see into people’s memories, right?”

Izuku nodded, his heart pounding. “And how it’s harder to control when you’re asleep…”

Hisakawa continued, “Well, I realized something last night. When I was walking past Mr. Blue’s room, it was like a vacuum, pulling me in. It was stronger than ever before, and I couldn’t help myself. I ended up in his memories—his Quirk exam when he was four. He looked mean, even then.”

Izuku shuddered, but Hisakawa pressed on. “His Quirk isn’t just about controlling bodies—it’s controlling the mind. He can manipulate people, but he gets more control when he causes pain.” He clenched his fists. “It’s slow, but the more pain he inflicts, the more power he gains.”

Izuku’s blood ran cold as the implication hit him.

Hisakawa quickly added, “It takes years for someone to be completely controlled this way. Your mental defense is strong, Izuku, and Mr. Blue can’t hold that control for long. But... he’s targeting you more often.”

Izuku didn’t know what to say. “Why me?”

The older boy, who had been quietly listening, stared at him, his expression pitying. “You haven’t figured it out, have you? No one else gets called out like you do, Midoriya. At first, we thought it was just Bando twisting things, but now… no one else seems to suffer as much as you.”

Hisakawa and Izuku exchanged a glance, their faces grim. They didn’t have answers, only more questions.

As they left to join the rest of the group, they didn’t mention the conversation. They didn’t want to worry the others—not when there was nothing they could do.

__________

Hisakawa stayed closer to Izuku after that. They had always been close as one of the few male Omega’s. But now it seemed the other boy was afraid to leave Izuku alone for too long. He appreciated it, even if it felt a bit smothering at times, and did his best to comfort his friend. Even allowing himself to be fussed over after he was inevitably dragged away for punishments. Izuku didn’t particularly like it when his friends fussed over him so much, but he knew they needed some physical proof that he was ok and still himself after each trip. 

Months later, Hisakawa was sold. He and Izuku had been inseparable for years and had become brothers in all but blood at the age of seven. 

The Alpha seemed nice at least, to both their reliefs, she had a bright smile and endless energy to match. She gave them no indication for either to think she’d be cruel. Izuku had still cried of course when his friend had to pack up his things to leave. But when they both approached her, Izuku still in tears, she had happily given Izuku and Hamasaki -Maki had already been sold three months prior- her mother’s phone number as a way to keep in contact with Hisakawa when he eventually got out. Izuku promised that no matter who he was sold to he’d find a way to keep in touch with the other boy. 

They had never discussed Mr. Blue’s Quirk after their first conversation. But Hisakawa’s pained expression whenever the man came around showed that he never really forget about it -even if his constant fussing had been proof enough-. Leaving meant he couldn’t watch over his friend any longer, and even if he’d never been able to stop all the pain before, at least he’d been there. He was clearly afraid of what would become of his friend without him. But when he told Izuku of his fears, he had only smiled and pulled him into a tight hug. Hamasaki joined in not even moments later, tears slipped down their faces but it didn’t dim their smiles. They walked him to the gate despite the fact they weren’t allowed outside at the time and knew they’d probably be caught and punished for it. But it hardly mattered. 

They waved their arms high over their heads in farewell as their friend was driven away to finally see his parents again. But none of them would let this be goodbye. They’d see each other again. 

Hopefully all under good circumstances. 

__________

Izuku had learned a lot during his time in the facility. Not all of it was academic. He’d gotten better at lying—at Souko's request— although still not the best. And he had even learned to use his Quirk without revealing any signs of activation. But what he hadn’t mastered was controlling his emotions. He still cried far too easily and was quick to stutter or blush when embarrassed or complimented—though the latter happened less often. While he wasn’t easily angered, even he had his limits. Bando had crossed the line one too many times.

This time was the last straw.

For weeks, Aimée had been avoiding their group, acting jumpy and upset. Despite their repeated attempts to check in, she remained tight-lipped. It wasn’t until Izuku asked her for what felt like the hundredth time if she was okay that she finally broke down in tears. She practically threw herself into his arms, clinging to him like he was about to leave. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry…” she sobbed, over and over, and no matter how much he or the others tried to comfort her, she couldn’t stop crying.

Aimée had always been fragile. She let others walk all over her, and Izuku understood that all too well; he was the same way when it came to himself. He rarely stood up for himself, but when it came to his friends, he would put himself in harm's way without hesitation. Aimée, however, was different. She couldn’t say no to anyone, even when she desperately wanted to. It bothered her, but they always made sure she knew that they weren’t mad at her for freezing up or stepping aside when someone bullied them. It didn’t make her any less of a friend.

There had been times before when they’d gotten punished for things that didn’t make sense, especially when Bando and her group weren’t around. Izuku had assumed there were hidden cameras watching them, but now everything was starting to make sense.

His footsteps were light, barely making a sound as he moved toward the library, where he knew Bando would be. Anger radiated from him, so strong that anyone else walking down the hall with him would’ve felt it. He kept his pace calm, mindful of the cameras. Running was strictly prohibited, and survival instinct kept his steps measured. The sound of Aimée’s broken voice echoed in his head.

Her tears had slowed enough for her to confess what had been eating at her. She admitted that she had been the one feeding information to Bando, explaining why they’d been getting into so much trouble. Aimée was always around and included in everything they did, which made it hard not to feel betrayed. And he wasn’t the only one who felt that way. “You were selling us out to Bando?!” Souko had yelled, ready to lash out at Aimée. “What the hell, Aimée! You’re supposed to be our friend!” Aimée let out a pathetic squeak and tried to hide behind Izuku.

Aneko and Kana quickly grabbed Souko by the elbows, pulling her back with practiced ease. This wasn’t the first time Souko had been ready to fight, and Aneko and Kana were the reasonable ones, always stepping in to stop things before they escalated. “Knock it off,” Aneko scolded in her older sister tone. “Let her explain.” They all turned back to Aimée, still clinging to Izuku, her gaze fixed on the floor. Her voice shook as she spoke. “S-She promised I wouldn’t get hurt...” Her words only made Souko angrier, but Kana tightened her grip on Souko’s arm, warning her to stay silent.

“Mr. Blue kept targeting us, and I know you tried to protect us, Izuku. But you weren’t always there, and it hurt! The punishments were always so... painful.” Aimée’s tears flowed even faster now, but she continued. “Bando promised that if I told her every time you guys did something wrong, she would make sure I didn’t get in trouble for it.” Her voice grew weaker. “I said no at first, but she started accusing me of stealing, or breaking things, or using my Quirk outside of the gyms. And he always believed her, and she just kept making up lies! I just wanted the pain to stop...”

Complete silence followed her confession. Even Souko and Yuuto remained quiet. A memory surfaced in Izuku’s mind—the time Aimée had missed nearly a week of class, and the nurse had said she was sick. They hadn’t thought much of it then.

Izuku stared at the hands gripping his arm, still trembling. He had been silent up until now, trying to process what was happening. His friends looked at him, waiting for his reaction. He was the one most affected by all this—Bando had personally gone after him more times than anyone else—but he remained silent. Instead of speaking, he slowly pried her fingers off his arm and stood up sharply. Aimée let out a surprised squeak, hurt flashing across her face, but Izuku ignored it.

He ignored his friends’ questioning voices and the hands that grasped at his elbows, trying to pull him back. With determined strides, he turned and marched toward the door. His fingers itched to slam it in frustration, but he resisted. Izuku had no idea what he had done to make Bando target them, but he was done. She had made up her mind about them after only one conversation, and while he knew not everyone would like him, that didn’t give her the right to torment him and his friends. He was furious, but not at Aimée.

The library door grew closer, and once again, Izuku had to fight the urge to slam it open. He considered himself patient and resilient, but after months of dealing with Mr. Blue’s punishments, his patience had worn thin. Normally, he would’ve been upset by the news Aimée had shared but would have kept a cool head. But today he couldn’t keep his emotions in check. Bando had crossed a line.

He found her sitting alone in the back of the library, conveniently out of sight from the librarian and the cameras. A thick, faded red book sat open in her lap. He moved quickly, making sure to stay out of sight. Despite his quiet steps, she snapped her head up as he approached, her face contorting into a sneer that she made no effort to hide. “What are you doing back here?” she hissed. “You aren’t allowed in the library today.” It was true—teachers had been trying to keep them apart as much as possible, so he wasn’t technically allowed to be there. But in his rage, Izuku didn’t care about the rules. He only wanted answers.

“Why do you hate me?” His voice was barely a whisper yell, louder than he intended.

It was clear Bando hadn’t expected this. She looked startled for a moment, then sneered again. “I haven’t done anything to you! And if I somehow offended you, then I’m sorry. But going after my friends isn’t okay! They haven’t done anything to you either!” Izuku’s fists clenched at his sides as his anger flared, but he struggled to keep his voice calm and quiet. He knew he was failing on both counts.

Bando straightened, seeming to snap back to reality. “You can’t become a hero,” she hissed.

Izuku went silent. Was that really her issue? That he wanted to be a hero? Her solution had been to have him and his friends suffer? His anger boiled over again, and he opened his mouth to retort, but she beat him to it.

“Omega’s are weak! We are weak! It doesn’t matter what our Quirks are or how hard we train to make them stronger. We’re the weaker of the secondary genders. Why can’t you see that?” Her voice grew louder, and his anger only grew in response.

“We were made to be bought. To take orders and make others happy by being obedient. To bear children and take care of them. We weren’t made for fighting.”

Izuku’s heart twisted as she continued. “I heard you talking to your friends about how you want to become a hero to show people how wrong they are about Omega. But it’s you that’s wrong!” She paused, and though the lighting wasn’t great in the back of the library, Izuku could see the tears threatening to fall. Frustration, anger, and something else flickered across her face. “Heroes are people we trust our lives with. We trust them to protect us. But they can’t save everyone. They couldn’t save my sister when a criminal shot her through the car window to steal her car.” Bando’s voice cracked as she spoke, but her words were chillingly calm.

Izuku’s heart ached, but before he could say anything, she cut him off. “People die, Midoriya. Good, innocent people who haven’t done anything wrong except be in the wrong place at the wrong time. If by some miracle you find an Alpha who’ll let you become a hero, do you really think you can do it? Alphas and Betas alike have all failed before, and they’re stronger than we ever could be.”

She wiped at her eyes, trying to clear the tear tracks. “I don’t think you’re a bad person, Midoriya. I know you just want to help people, especially Omegas. But you can’t be a hero.” With that, Bando pushed past him, leaving the library without another word.

Her book was left behind.

__________

The next day, both Izuku and Bando were punished. Mr. Blue seemed indifferent to the fact that he was also harming his "informant."

Neither of them spoke a word to each other, not that they could, as both were forced to wear muzzles as punishment speaking loudly in a place they weren’t meant to.

“If you both can’t use your voices appropriately, then you shouldn’t get to use them at all” Mr. Blue chided 

Months passed before either of them spoke again.

Izuku’s punishments, however, remained frequent.

__________

A year and some months later…

"Because of your disobedience, you’ll miss your first showing day." Mr. Blue's grip on Izuku’s arm was tight enough to bruise as he dragged the boy through the facility. Izuku didn’t resist. Walking was pointless; Mr. Blue always moved too fast, and speaking back would only make things worse. Blood continued to drip from his untreated broken nose.

"A shame, really," Mr. Blue sneered. "I’d love to be rid of you already. Not that any Alpha would want an unruly Omega like you."

Izuku barely suppressed a flinch at the man’s words. He despised the system that treated him like an object to be bought and sold, but deep down, his desire to be useful, loved, and wanted had become clear. And Mr. Blue had used that vulnerability against him at every opportunity.

They reached one of the sheds at the back of the facility. It was partially underground, its dull green paint chipped and peeling. Four locks lined the door, which Mr. Blue unlocked agonizingly slowly, taking his time to torment Izuku just a little more.

"A day or so in the shed should help you calm down." With that, Mr. Blue swung open the door and shoved Izuku inside without a second thought. The boy hit the ground with a painful thud, his face slamming into the floor and making the blood pour even harder from his nose. He bit down on his cheek to stifle a scream.

Izuku pushed himself up on shaky arms and turned just enough to see Mr. Blue standing in the doorway, the light from outside spilling in and casting long shadows across the dark, dusty shed. Izuku couldn’t make out the man’s face, but he was certain Mr. Blue was smiling.

"You’ll never learn, will you, Izuku?"

The door slammed shut, and once again, Izuku was left in the suffocating darkness.

Chapter Text

Shouto Todoroki had never been interested in choosing an Omega. He never would be. The idea of claiming another person, especially without their consent, made his stomach turn. It felt too much like something his father would do. He despised the system that treated Omegas as property as if they were somehow lesser. The only silver lining was that his father had no say in his choice.

With an irritated sigh, Shouto pressed himself closer to the car door, watching the view blur as his father sped well over the limit. But even the rush of the road couldn’t distract him from his father’s incessant complaints about his ‘ terrible posture .’ “Shouto! Straighten up!” his father barked. The half-and-half boy gritted his teeth so tightly it felt like they might crack. “Can you drive any slower? You’re going to hit something... or someone,” he muttered under his breath. “Watch your tone! It’s your fault we’re running late, and I won’t let you ruin this,” his father shot back.

Rolling his eyes as his father swerved dangerously, Shouto's attention shifted to a packet of papers tossed his way. Instinctively, his hand shot out, catching it with ease. ‘Facility-A Omega List’ was printed in large, bold letters. He shot his father a look through the rearview mirror, but his father ignored him. Normally, these facilities didn’t hand out any information about the Omegas they kept. You were supposed to get to know them first. But there was no doubt in Shouto's mind that his father had used some less-than-legal methods to get these papers. "Start looking through this," his father ordered, "You need to pick a strong Omega with a good Quirk to continue the family line."

A scowl deepened on Shouto's face. To his father, that’s all this was about—improving the family’s standing. He shoved the papers aside, ignoring them. His father’s glare promised punishment, and Shouto could feel the familiar sting of his old scars. He did his best to push the pain aside. He didn’t want to choose an Omega, but he knew his father wouldn’t give him a choice. The only real decision Shouto had was who he would pick—and it wasn’t going to be according to his father's plan.

__________

When Enji Todoroki was seven years old, he didn’t go to the Omega facility to select a mate, despite being a powerful Alpha. His family wasn’t wealthy, and they couldn’t afford to send him to even the lowest-tier facilities. At the time, he didn’t mind. His dream of becoming a hero had only just started to take root, and he was too focused on that to think about finding a mate. His priority was to help others and support his family.

But as Enji graduated from UA and began making a name for himself as a hero, his drive to win and outdo everyone around him intensified. In the first few years of his career, he was careful around civilians. He wasn’t the friendliest hero, but he wasn’t rude either. All Might was still number one, no matter how fast Enji was or how many cases he solved. At first, Enji accepted this—heroes were meant to save people, not compete for a title. But as time went on and his ranking remained stagnant, the thrill of helping people began to fade. His family had become a burden, so he severed all ties with them.

Though his desire to be the best had grown quickly, he still struggled to improve. His scowl deepened as he completed cases faster, but his reputation for fearsome strength grew, even as it came at the cost of civilian casualties. He realized he would likely never surpass All Might and would forever remain second-best. Instead of analyzing what made All Might so great and trying to better himself, Enji decided to take another route.

At twenty-eight, a rising and well-respected hero, Enji Todoroki set out to find a mate.

__________

The car screeched to a halt as they arrived at the facility. Enji slammed the door with excessive force as he got out.

Shouto followed, forcing himself to keep his hands by his sides instead of scratching at his scar. It always seemed to itch when he was nervous, and being around his father always made him uneasy. His face remained impassive as Mr. Blue, accompanying his father, attempted to engage in conversation, by praising his father’s heroics. Shouto hated him.

His father was left in the waiting area while Shouto was led into a room as sterile and dull as the rest of the facility. The walls and floors were padded, and chairs were scattered haphazardly. A camera mounted in the corner blinked with red lights, signaling it was on. The air was thick with faint, clashing scents, but Shouto ignored them. None of the Omegas here had fully developed their scent glands yet, so it wasn’t too overwhelming. There were no TVs, no paintings, no windows—just ten or so Omegas scattered around the room, talking amongst themselves. Or, at least, they had been, until he entered. Now, all eyes were on him. 

His scar itched.

A cheerful employee greeted him with a smile. “This is the first room of Omegas. Your father personally selected these twenty for you based on what he thinks you’d be interested in.” Shouto fought the scowl threatening to break his composure. His father didn’t know anything about him. He’d chosen them based solely on their Quirks. Fantastic. The employee continued, “There are three more rooms down this hall if you want to see more. Feel free to check them out.”

Shouto nodded curtly, and the employee quickly retreated, understanding that was all the attention they would get from him.

Taking a deep breath, Shouto scanned the room, then approached the first Omega. He introduced himself with only his name and asked theirs. They answered mechanically, listing their name and Quirk. The conversation felt stiff and uncomfortable, and Shouto quickly moved on. He tried his best to give each Omega equal time, but they all responded in the same robotic way.

Until he reached the last Omega: a girl with golden blonde hair adorned with shining clips. Unlike the others, she spoke with clear enthusiasm, and while Shouto was grateful for the change, something about her energy unsettled him. He couldn’t quite pinpoint why, but he tried to push the feeling aside. The conversation went more smoothly than with the others until she mentioned his father.

“And your dad’s Endeavor, right? The number two hero? That’s amazing! You must be so proud to carry on his legacy,” she said with a sickly sweet smile. The words were too much, and Shouto fought to keep his teeth from grinding. “But don’t you have older siblings? I heard something about them during an interview with Endeavor a couple of weeks ago. Shouldn’t one of them be taking over his work?”

He took a slow, controlled breath before answering. “Yes. I have three older siblings. But my father didn’t approve of their Quirks.”

He hoped that would end the conversation, but the girl’s smile only widened. “Oh, so they were too weak, huh? That makes sense. If I were Endeavor, I wouldn’t want to be associated with anyone weak. So you must be really strong, right?”

That was enough.

He stood up abruptly, perhaps too quickly, but he was done with her. “It was nice meeting you, Bando,” he muttered, offering a brief nod before walking briskly toward the door. He heard her sputtering behind him, but he didn’t look back.

Shouto knew that not everyone realized just how awful his father was, and he expected whoever he chose wouldn’t know until they inevitably met the man. But that didn’t give her the right to talk about his siblings like that.

He remembered the small, good moments with them—Touya sneaking into his room with candy or teaching him how to play cards. Fuyumi patched him up after a tough training session. Natsuo tried to deflect their father’s attention with sarcasm, even if it never lasted long.

It was small things. Meaningless in the grand scheme of things, as none of this ever stopped the brutal training and overbearing presence of their father. But it was something, and he was willing to cling to anything that brought light to his small dark world. And that meant no one got to talk poorly about his lights in the dark.

And no one got to talk about his siblings like that.

__________

When Rei was seven years old, she was chosen, just like so many Omegas before her. Her Alpha’s family wasn’t wealthy; they were modest. At first, she’d been wary of him, even if she hadn’t shown it. His parents were strict, and once he was old enough, he had to work to support the family. That kind of environment could change a person, not always for the better.

But as time passed, she grew to love him deeply. He was hardworking, rarely complaining about their struggles. For seventeen years, he worked tirelessly to make her happy, even if they didn’t have much. She never asked for much—she didn’t feel the need—but that didn’t stop him from showering her with flowers or extravagant gifts they couldn’t afford, all just to see her smile.

He never forced her to do anything she didn’t want to do. When she expressed a desire to become a nurse, he supported her wholeheartedly. Despite her parents refusing to pay for her schooling, he worked a second job to help her pay for it. She studied relentlessly, hoping for a scholarship to lighten the load.

Instead of being marked and claimed at eighteen as was customary, she had asked to wait until after marriage. Her Alpha had struggled to understand her reasons, but he loved her deeply and wanted to see her happy. After all, she rarely asked for anything, and he believed fulfilling her request wouldn’t hurt. So, he accepted her wish without question, working tirelessly to afford the dream wedding she had envisioned. By the time she graduated at twenty-three, she had secured a modest job at a small clinic that, while not lucrative, helped support them both.

When she turned twenty-four, he took her to their favorite spot in the park, dropping to one knee to propose. Though proposals weren’t common in their time—especially since Omega had no right to refuse their Alphas—she hardly cared. Overcome with emotion, tears of joy streamed down her face as she accepted. For a short time, everything felt perfect. She had never been happier, despite the wedding planning stress.

But none of that stopped Enji from challenging her Alpha for ownership of her, nor did it stop him from winning. Despite her desperate pleas, her Alpha was torn from her, and she was forced to go with Enji. Her heart shattered as her once-perfect life crumbled. If only she had allowed herself to be claimed at eighteen if she had married sooner like most did. But she hadn’t anticipated a challenge for her hand. Her Quirk was weak, and she never considered herself particularly beautiful, so she hadn’t worried. Now, she regretted letting her guard down.

Her mate, though kind and loving, was physically weak and lacked strength in his Quirk. He stood no chance against a pro hero like Enji, and though the fight was one-sided, her mate never backed down. Trembling with fear, he fought until he could fight no longer. Enji didn’t hesitate, and it was only when Rei intervened, throwing up a fragile wall of ice in front of her mate, that he stopped. The ice melted almost instantly from Enji's searing flames, but it had given Rei enough time to beg for mercy.

Though duels occasionally resulted in fatalities, it wasn’t the norm, and Rei’s desperate pleas prevented any lethal outcome. Enji reluctantly allowed an ambulance to take her mate away, but she never saw him again. Enji forbade any further contact, but she managed to leave a note for her mate, apologizing for not letting him claim her sooner and assuring him that her love for him had never waned, even though he lost.

Barely a month passed before Enji marked her. She wept uncontrollably, despite his harsh orders to stop. She had grown accustomed to her old mate’s gentleness—he had never been commanding, and their relationship had been peaceful. But Enji was violent and demanding, a reality that left her with bruises and broken bones.

Still, she couldn’t deny that she was responsible for her fate. As miserable as her new life was, she loved her children deeply. There was a constant ache in her heart that nothing could heal, but she carried on, ensuring that her children would never view Enji’s abusive control as acceptable in a mate.

__________

Shouto moved through a couple more rooms, but each one offered no luck. Either people recognized him as his father’s son, and he had to leave before he froze everyone in sight, or they looked so empty and lifeless that it hurt to even consider taking them with him. It reminded him too much of when his mom had started to break.

He pushed down the anxiety building inside him with each empty room he visited. He knew his father wouldn’t take no for an answer—he had to find an Omega. If Shouto refused, his father would likely pay someone to stay quiet and choose one for him.

‘One room left…’

He was so lost in thought that he didn’t notice someone sitting against the hallway wall until he tripped over their feet. The sensation of falling was brief before he somehow regained his balance. His head spun as he stumbled back, confused. ‘ How did I get back up?’ He though, looking around in confusion.

"Sorry about that. I didn’t think anyone would be down here. No one usually comes to the other rooms—they just take the first Omega they find attractive," a quiet voice said.

Shouto looked down and saw a small boy sitting against the wall with his knees pulled up to his chest. The boy’s curly green hair was so dark it almost looked black, and his emerald eyes stared up at Shouto. His expression was blank, but Shouto could tell he had more life in him than anyone else he'd met that night.

Freckles dotted the boy’s face like stars, and although Shouto couldn’t tell for sure, he thought they covered his entire face. That was, until he saw the blood splattered on the lower half of it. The crooked nose was familiar, too—he'd had enough broken noses from his father to recognize one immediately.

Shouto snapped out of his daze, realizing he hadn’t spoken yet. He quickly shook his head, focusing on the boy. "Why are you sitting here?"

The boy flushed, looking either embarrassed or ashamed. His eyes darted around as if expecting someone to pop out. "I, uh... I'm supposed to be in the shed. Well, technically, I’m supposed to be in one of the selling rooms. But I made Mr. Blue mad, so he put me in the shed. I hadn’t eaten in a while, so I— I mean, I escaped to get some food from the kitchen." Shouto noticed the boy was gripping a slice of bread tightly.

There was a lot to unpack in all that, and Shouto wasn’t entirely sure what to start with. But his stealing food was definitely the least concerning thing the Omega had just said. 

"Why were they keeping you in the shed? And why is your nose broken?" Shouto asked.

The boy hesitated, tearing a piece of bread off and chewing slowly before patting the ground beside him. Shouto raised an eyebrow in confusion but sat down next to him after a brief pause. They sat in silence for a moment, and once the boy swallowed, he finally spoke.

"I got caught using my Quirk outside my designated time. I’ve gotten better at hiding it, but I forgot to make sure I was in the same spot when I stopped using it. So, Mr. Blue broke my nose and put me in the shed. That’s where they put the troublemakers." He made air quotes with his fingers before quickly finishing the rest of his bread.

Shouto digested this information, his concern growing. He hated how Omegas were treated, and this just made his anger grow. "You said you were supposed to be in the selling rooms today, right?"

The boy nodded hesitantly, glancing at Shouto. Shouto took a deep breath and held out his hand. Before he could second-guess himself, he quickly introduced himself, "I’m Todoroki Shouto."

The boy flinched at his hand like he was expecting it to strike him. Shouto winced at the thought, but before he could pull his hand back, the green-haired boy quickly regained his composure and reached out to shake it. "I’m Midoriya Izuku."

"It’s nice to meet you, Midoriya."

The smile Izuku gave him was blinding, and for the first time that night, Shouto felt a little more at ease. He realized that, aside from the initial concern, he felt more comfortable around Izuku than he had with anyone else that night. It was... nice.

"So, what do you think of the facility so far?" Surprisingly, it wasn’t Shouto who had to keep the conversation going. Izuku asked first. Shouto paused, not wanting to offend anyone, but he couldn't help but be honest. "It looks pretty bland."

Izuku blinked up at him, and Shouto immediately realized his mistake. "Oh god, I said that out loud."

There was a long pause, and Shouto started to feel anxious, but then Izuku threw his head back and laughed. The laughter only lasted a second before he jerked forward with a sharp "Ow!" He grabbed his nose tightly, wincing. "Ha... Ow... I forgot about my nose," he groaned, squeezing his eyes shut as if to block out the pain.

Shouto was familiar with that feeling. Without thinking, he gently took hold of Izuku’s hands and pried them away from his face. Izuku shot him a glare—though it was about as threatening as a bunny—but he let him.

Once Izuku’s hands were out of the way, Shouto hovered his right hand over his broken nose. Izuku narrowed his eyes suspiciously, but before he could protest, frost started to form on Shouto’s fingertips and spread to his whole hand.

Izuku’s expression changed instantly to one of wonder. His eyes went wide as he stared cross-eyed at the frost creeping over his nose. The relief was immediate as the stabbing pain turned into a dull throb. He barely registered the change before the questions started pouring out. "Woah! Is that your Quirk? That’s so cool! How much ice can you make? Is it just frost, or can you make snow?" His excitement was clear as he bounced in place but winced as the sharp pain reminded him to stay still.

Shouto tried to follow the conversation but, eventually, the words became too jumbled to understand. "Wait," Izuku’s words clicked together, and he quickly shut his mouth, face flushed in embarrassment. "Sorry. I tend to talk too fast when I get excited."

"It’s fine," Shouto assured him. "I don’t mind, but you spoke a bit too fast."

Izuku’s eyes lit up. "Really? You don’t mind?" Shouto nodded, though he wasn’t sure why it seemed so important to Izuku. He smiled at the boy’s joy, feeling like he understood something about the connection forming between them.

After a moment, Shouto thought back and answered the questions he could. "My Quirk is Half-Hot Half-Cold," he said, extending both hands palm-up. Ice covered his right hand, while a small flame flickered on the left. Izuku’s eyes sparkled with amazement as he leaned closer, but Shouto quickly shut his hands. The flame disappeared, and he shook off the frost to keep Izuku from getting hurt.

"I’ve never tried making snow," he continued. "And I’m not sure how much ice I can make. If I use too much, I get too cold and can get sick."

Izuku cut him off quickly. "Can’t you use your fire to warm yourself up?"

Shouto nodded slowly but added, "I don’t like using my flames much."

Izuku opened his mouth again, probably to ask why, but whatever he saw in Shouto’s face made him stop. They both sat quietly for a moment, but then Izuku suddenly sprang up, his eyes wide. "Oh my god! I completely forgot!" Shouto jumped to his feet too.

"What’s wrong?"

"I got so distracted talking to you, I forgot! You’re supposed to be talking to the other Omegas, and they’ll probably come looking for you soon. I’m supposed to be in the shed, and I’ll get into even more trouble if they see I escaped…" His words tumbled out faster and faster, ending in a jumbled mess. Shouto understood, though—they both needed to leave before they were caught.

But Shouto didn’t want to go. He’d never had a friend before—other than Momo, but that was mostly because their families did business together. His father didn’t let him have friends unless they were approved. The thought of leaving now, of not getting to talk to Izuku again, felt… wrong.

"Well, I guess I shou—"

"You should get your nose fixed!" Shouto blurted out, surprising Izuku, and quite frankly himself.

Shouto flushed, his face burning even though his Quirk kept him from getting too hot. 

"What?" Izuku looked at him like he was crazy. 

"Don’t you have a nurse here? You should get that nose fixed before going back, so it doesn’t get worse..."

Izuku blinked at him a few times, then seemed to hesitate. “Oh. Well, I would normally, but if I go to the nurse, they’ll know I left the shed…” He trailed off, as though he wanted to say more, but something caught his attention. He suddenly turned his gaze down the hall, and Shouto followed it, unable to spot anything unusual. Izuku let out a nervous laugh, but when he faced Shouto again, his expression looked strained and broken. “Well, I guess it doesn’t matter too much now. I might as well get to the nurse so I can be in the best shape for later…” Shouto, still unable to understand what was bothering Izuku, frowned. “What do you mean?”

Without answering, Izuku pointed toward the ceiling. Shouto, following the direction of his finger, felt a momentary surge of realization—something had been there all along, but he hadn’t noticed it. A small black camera was lodged between the ceiling tiles, a red light blinking, signaling it was recording—or at least active. Shouto stared at it, unsure of what to make of it. Cameras were beyond him.

“Oh…” His mind went blank, unable to come up with anything helpful to say. Instead, he fell back on his original impulse, though he wasn’t sure what it was. “Um, can I walk you to the nurse?”

Izuku seemed like he might protest but his gaze was drawn back to the camera. With a resigned sigh, he gave a small nod. “Yeah, okay.” He turned, heading in the opposite direction of Shouto’s path. “It’s this way.”

__________

The walk was far from silent, which Shouto appreciated. After a brief moment of silence in the beginning, Izuu seemed to shake off his depressed funk and soon he filled the air with conversation that was both full of random details and yet, oddly disjointed. He talked about a cute dog he'd seen on the news, a Pro Hero with an interesting Quirk, and some silly antics he'd shared with his friends, often ending with him getting into trouble, but he seemed to take pleasure in recounting these stories. After some prompting, Izuku even went into a detailed ramble about his own Quirk.

Overall, the walk was pleasant.

However, Shouto couldn't understand why the nurse’s office was so far away, or why there were at least three cameras positioned outside. Seriously, who places the nurse’s office on the far side of the building? It took way too long to get there, and what if someone had been seriously hurt? But at least the walk gave him more time to talk with Izuku, so there was that.

When they finally arrived, Izuku turned to face him, probably to say goodbye, but Shouto wasn’t ready to leave just yet. Without a word, he bypassed the other boy and pushed the door open. Inside was a small, rectangular room with the usual bland walls, though a few potted plants had been shoved into corners. Two paintings of sakura trees hung on opposite walls, and a single window in the back wall was covered with thick metal bars. A small white desk by the entrance was cluttered with tongue depressors, band-aids, and an abandoned stethoscope, though it had no personal touches. Four neatly made beds lined the far wall, each with matching white blankets and pillows.

A tall, skeletal woman was slouched in her desk chair, not acknowledging their entrance. Her skin seemed to hang off her bones, and her brown hair was pulled back tightly into a bun, pulling her face slightly taut. Her makeup, a mix of black, blue, and purple, was a chaotic clash. Shouto quickly masked his surprise, hiding his reaction behind a poker face. He turned back to hold the door open for Izuku, who reluctantly followed. After a moment, the nurse let out a long sigh and looked up, her beady black eyes meeting theirs without either of them flinching. Izuku was used to the sight, and Shouto had seen much scarier things at home.

Still, the woman was unsettling.

"Back again, Izuku?" she croaked, a cracked smile spreading across her face. Her voice sounded as though she’d been gargling gravel. Out of the corner of his eye, Shouto saw Izuku put on a strained smile.

"Yes, ma'am," Izuku said politely but offered no more explanation. The nurse sighed, reaching down to remove her shoe and sock with a practiced motion. Shouto wrinkled his nose in confusion and disgust. Why was she taking off her shoe? And had she even washed her feet?

Izuku moved forward with a resigned gesture, kneeling in front of her as she raised her foot toward his face. Before Shouto could speak, a blinding pink light emanated from the point where Izuku’s nose met the nurse’s barefoot. When the light faded, Shouto saw that Izuku’s nose had snapped back into its proper shape, though the residual blood was still visible. The nurse pulled her foot away and began putting her socks back on, waving them off dismissively.

"See you soon," she muttered as Izuku pushed himself up and walked back toward Shouto, looking a little shaken.

"Her feet…" Shouto muttered, still stunned.

"Heals," Izuku answered, clearly used to the routine. "I know it's strange, but she’s fixed me and plenty of others more times than we care to count. So, we don’t talk about it."

They walked in silence for a minute or two as they headed back toward the rooms, where the other Omegas were probably still wondering what had taken them so long. Panic started creeping back into Shouto’s chest as he realized that once they returned, he'd have to make a choice. The thought of it grew scarier by the second, and he quickly pushed it away. Trying to dispel the tension, he asked, "So… what do you want to do when you get out of here?"

As soon as the words left his mouth, Shouto regretted asking. It was a question that might be normal for anyone else, but for an Omega with no real choices in life, it was cruel. His mouth opened and closed like a fish, struggling to apologize, but the words never came.

Izuku had already tensed in front of him, visibly debating how to respond. Shouto, having no experience confronting people, reached out to stop Izuku, intending to apologize properly, but before he could, Izuku abruptly halted on his own. The sudden stop almost caused Shouto to bump into him. Finally, Shouto managed to speak, "Midoriya, wait, I’m sor—"

"A hero," Izuku cut him off, his voice firm.

"Huh?" Shouto asked, completely confused.

Izuku turned to face him, his posture shifting as if trying to seem taller and more confident, though his eyes betrayed his uncertainty.

"I’m going to be a Pro Hero," he said, this time with more conviction, as if daring Shouto to question him.

"Why?" Shouto blurted before he could stop himself. Izuku’s posture immediately became defensive, his brows furrowing, as if bracing for a scolding. Not wanting to make things worse, Shouto quickly added, "I mean, why do you want to be a hero?"

Izuku’s expression shifted, caught off guard by the question. He seemed to pause, gathering his thoughts, before answering quietly, "I want to save people, protect them, and help them feel safe. But it’s more than that. I want to help Omegas... I want people to see us as real people."

There was more that Izuku seemed to want to say, but he fell silent, his gaze dropping to his shoes.

Shouto felt his throat tighten, but he managed to say, "I think you’ll be a really cool hero. I hope whoever picks you lets you live your dream." The words came out more quietly than intended, and from the way Izuku’s shoulders slumped, Shouto knew it wasn’t enough.

"I want to be a hero too…" Shouto murmured, his voice barely audible. "But I don’t want to be like my father."

Neither of them spoke again as they continued walking, but Shouto had the feeling that Izuku understood exactly what he meant.

__________

As they neared the hallway where they would part ways, both seemed to realize their time to talk was running out.

"Hey, Midoriya?" Shouto started, and Izuku glanced at him, offering a hum of acknowledgment.

"Yeah?" Izuku replied, raising an eyebrow.

Shouto fumbled with his words for a moment. "You know how you want to be a hero…" he began awkwardly. Izuku gave him an amused look, as if he didn’t quite understand where this was going.

"Yes. We did just talk about it," Izuku teased.

Shouto let out a breath, still struggling. "I...um...Would you like to be my partner?" he asked suddenly, practically shouting the words.

Izuku blinked in confusion. "Huh?"

Shouto's face turned pink, and he quickly elaborated, "I mean... do you want to be my hero partner?" He hoped Izuku understood, but it seemed to click instantly. The green-haired boy’s face lit up like a Christmas tree.

"Really!? You want to be my partner!" Izuku bounced in excitement, a huge smile spreading across his face.

But then Izuku hesitated, and his smile faltered. "I’d really like to, but… what if they don’t let me be a hero? Or what if we don’t end up at the same hero school…?"

Before Izuku could spiral into further worries, Shouto cut him off. "Midoriya."

Izuku jerked, startled. He looked up, about to apologize, but Shouto wasn’t about to let him continue down that path. "I’m sorry. I don’t think I was clear," he said, feeling his anxiety surge. "When I asked if you wanted to be my partner, I meant… I want to choose you."

Izuku froze, slack-jawed. Silence filled the air, and Shouto’s heart raced in his chest.

But Izuku snapped out of his shock, his voice barely a whisper. "Y-You want me to be your mate?"

"No," Shouto answered quickly. Izuku flinched, looking hurt and confused, and Shouto hurried to explain, "I don’t want to control you. I want you to make your own choices. I want us to be friends… and maybe partners one day. My father always says friends will slow you down, but if we’re going to be heroes, we need to have each other’s backs."

Shouto looked down, feeling embarrassed, but he forced himself to continue. "I’ll look out for you if you look out for me."

There was no silence this time.

"Yes!" Izuku cried out, and Shouto looked up, startled. To his surprise, Izuku’s face was wet with tears, but his smile was wider than ever. He wrapped his arms around Shouto, and for a moment, Shouto didn’t know what to do. Tentatively, he returned the hug, gently patting Izuku’s back.

Not even a moment later, Izuku pulled away and started bouncing on the balls of his feet. “We’re going to be the best hero duo ever!” He balled his fist and threw it high over his head as if declaring it to the heavens above before coming to a complete halt. His excitement didn’t fade, but he lowered his voice a bit, as though remembering where they were. Turning back to face Shouto, he grinned. “And we’re going to be best friends! No one will stand a chance against us as long as we have each other’s backs! Okay?”

And well, Shouto couldn’t say no to that. "Okay," he replied, extending his hand out to the Omega once more. “I’ll be in your care.”

Chapter Text

The walk back toward the entrance was completely silent, filled only with the tension Izuku couldn't shake off. His nerves were bubbling under the surface. He was thrilled to finally get out, but his mind raced with the reality of the situation. This isn’t going to be easy . Technically, he wasn’t supposed to be outside the shed, and he could already hear Mr. Blue's voice in his head, questioning how he even got out. And he’ll definitely search the shed for the escape tunnel, ruining it for anyone else stuck in there... Izuku winced at the thought. Okay, maybe this wasn’t such a good idea...

He hadn’t realized how slowly he was walking until Shouto reached out and grabbed his hand, intertwining their fingers before gently pulling him along. Izuku looked over at Shouto, offering a small smile, which Shouto didn’t return, but Izuku wasn’t offended.

“It’ll be fine,” Shouto said, his tone flat as always, though there was a touch of reassurance in his voice. “I know, but… I wasn’t supposed to be out there. I mean, I was, but—” He broke off, trying to collect his thoughts.

Izuku let out a frustrated sigh. “And what if they say you can’t take me? Or—”

Another firm squeeze from Shouto snapped him back to the moment.

“Even if you were... punished ,” Shouto added with a scrunched expression that made it clear how much he hated their methods of punishment. His face quickly smoothed back into its usual indifference as he continued, “Your name should still be on the register for today. As long as it is, I have the right to take you. Besides, technically, they can’t tell me no. It’s my choice after all.”

Izuku’s smile widened at Shouto’s attempt to comfort him, though it was clear the other boy wasn’t entirely sure of what to say. Still, the effort meant a lot to Izuku. “You’re right, Shouchan!”

Shouto froze in place, and Izuku bumped into him before he could stop. “W-What?” Shouto stuttered, turning to face him. His face flushed pink, a hint of frost clinging to his right cheek. 

“O-Oh, um, I called you ‘Shouchan.’ Is that okay? I mean, I thought since we’re best friends now… best friends give each other nicknames, right?” Izuku’s face was burning too, but he couldn’t help it.

Shouto was silent for a long moment. Izuku’s heart sank at the thought of having already ruined things. “Yeah, that’s okay. It just surprised me,” Shouto finally replied, his eyes briefly looking away in a mix of embarrassment and indifference.

Izuku sighed in relief, nearly laughing from the tension that had built up. “Oh, sorry! I didn’t mean to surprise you... I just have this habit of giving nicknames to my friends. Is it really okay? I don’t want to make you uncomfortable.”

Shouto’s frost started to melt off his right cheek as he visibly relaxed. “No, it’s okay, really. I don’t mind. I’ve just never had a nickname before.” He paused, as if pondering. “Do I have to come up with one for you, too?”

Izuku quickly shook his head. “No, you don’t have to! You can just call me Izuku, or whatever you feel comfortable with! Really, it’s fine.”

Shouto’s mouth twitched upward just the slightest, a faint smile that made Izuku relax. It felt like a small victory.

From what he had gathered, Shouto kept most of his emotions buried behind a poker face, only letting glimpses slip through. A far cry from Izuku’s open, heart-on-his-sleeve nature.

“Okay, Izuku,” Shouto said softly, a blush staining his cheeks as he turned away. Izuku couldn’t help but grin, feeling lighter than before. They started walking again, but this time Shouto let go of his hand.

The large doorway at the end of the hall came into view, and Izuku’s nerves started to creep back in. Stay calm , he reminded himself, drawing strength from Shouto’s earlier words.

Then a voice from behind them made them both freeze. “Well, there you are.”

Izuku’s heart leaped into his throat. Did Mr. Blue already find out? he thought, panic flooding him. To his surprise, though, Shouto instinctively stepped in front of him, one arm raised protectively. Izuku was touched, though part of him felt a little offended by the implication that he needed defending. He doesn’t know what you’re capable of, he reminded himself, pushing the feeling aside as he turned to see who was approaching.

He immediately relaxed when he saw it was only the secretary who normally sat at the front desk. How he could have mistaken her for Mr. Blue, he wasn’t sure—she was a woman, after all, and had a completely different tone of voice.

Shouto dropped his arm when he saw who it was, stepping aside. The receptionist caught Izuku’s eye, her face freezing in recognition. “I see you’ve…” She trailed off, her gaze flicking to Shouto before returning to Izuku. “Chosen who you’re taking with you, then?”

Izuku saw Shouto’s eyes narrow slightly as if daring her to comment negatively on their choice. The receptionist tensed, but then forced a smile, her voice syrupy sweet. “That’s wonderful! Well, we should get going then. Don’t want to keep your father waiting too long.”

Without another word, she started walking, leaving the two of them to follow, still shaken by her insincerity.

Shouto reached for Izuku’s hand again, offering one more comforting squeeze before they both stepped through the entryway.

And came face-to-face with Mr. Blue and Endeavor.

__________

Yuma Anno wasn’t sure what she expected when she was forced to apply for a job at one of the Omega care and holding facilities, but it certainly wasn’t this nightmare.

It hadn’t been long since she herself had been in a facility like this, though she’d been much older when she was bought—seventeen, an age when most Omegas were deemed too old to be ‘useful.’ Now, at thirty, it was hard to believe so much had changed, but the rules were stricter, and the punishments harsher. It seemed like the stronger the kids were, the worse things got. At least, that was how it felt to her. She had been placed in Facility E, the lowest-tier facility. Her calming quirk was weak and barely functional, activated only by cherries, and even then it wasn’t very reliable. Maybe that was why things were harsher for the kids who had powers like Endeavor or his kids, though she hated that thought.

Her boss’s quirk was a nightmare. It drained her and left her feeling helpless, and lifeless. He always had it activated, and it took everything in her to ignore the sensation of his power inching into her head. She didn’t notice it at first—she hadn’t been aware of how it worked. But once she did, it was too late to do anything about it.

That was when she learned what really went on in Facility A. The things they did to the kids there... it made her sick. But she knew there was nothing she could do. As an Omega, she was ignored and dismissed. No one cared about her, and certainly not about the children. No matter how much evidence she had, no one would believe her.

It was a terrible reality. But it was one you learned to live with.

An hour passed, and she started to grow worried. Todoroki was supposed to be back soon with an Omega, but when she checked, he wasn’t in any of the rooms. She began to panic. How bad would it be if she lost the number two hero’s son?

The answer: very very bad .

But Yuma didn’t have the courage to face the consequences yet. Instead, she wandered the halls, searching for him.

Then, she saw it—the flicker of red and white up ahead. Her heart leaped in her chest. She was relieved to find him still within the building and not run off like some kids tend to do. “Well, there you are.”

It was a good thing she spoke up when she did, considering how quickly the two turned to face her. They likely saw her as a threat—something that often happened when an Alpha first choose their Omega. Both of them tended to be a bit more jumpy than usual in that initial phase. “I see you’ve…” she began, eager to move things along now that she had located the young Todoroki. Her heart skipped a beat when her eyes met Facility-A’s infamous Omega. The poor boy had somehow caught the attention of Mr. Blue, making him the most abused of everyone at the facility. Even the teachers had suffered less than this child. With a shaky breath, she forced herself to relax before continuing, “chosen who you’re taking with you then.”

The boy nodded in confirmation, sending a shiver of dread through her. She had to push it aside. She reminded herself that there was nothing she could do about it. With practiced ease, she pasted a fake smile onto her face. “That’s wonderful!” She noticed the children cringe, but it was easy to ignore them. Alphas expected their Omegas to be cheerful and ready to serve at a moment’s notice, so she’d grown accustomed to acting the part, regardless of who was around. “Well, we should get going then,” she added, already feeling the weight of Mr. Blue’s Quirk bearing down on her. He must be getting closer. “Don’t want to keep your father waiting too long.” Without a second glance, she marched ahead, guiding the children along.

As she moved forward, she was met by none other than her boss and the number two hero.

“Ah, Ms. Anno. Has Young Todoroki finished yet?” Mr. Blue asked, his voice laced with a smirk that suggested he knew something she didn’t. She hated that look. Not that she’d ever dare speak her mind about it, especially when frozen under his Quirk.

“Yes, he has,” she replied almost mechanically, her mind clouded by a thin fog. She was only vaguely aware of what was happening around her, too disoriented to have any real control.

The two men’s gazes dropped to the children standing by her feet. Mr. Blue’s posture stiffened, and a furious expression overtook his face. “What do you think you’re doing out here, Midoriya?” he spat the boy’s name with enough venom to make even her flinch. The two Alphas seemed unaffected, though, with the younger one even squeezing the Omega’s hand in a gesture of comfort.

“I’m afraid there’s been a mistake,” Mr. Blue continued, his tone deceptively calm, though his eyes burned with rage. His focus shifted to the young Todoroki. “You don’t want this Omega. They’re nothing but trouble, not worth your time. I’m sure we have much better options.”

The boy didn’t hesitate. “They’re the only one here that interests me. I want them.” His voice was calm but unwavering, and his eyes held a steely resolve, showing no signs of backing down. A small, warm feeling spread through Yuma’s chest at the young Alpha’s protectiveness. But the moment of warmth was quickly overshadowed by Mr. Blue’s words.

“Well, I’m sorry to inform you, but they aren’t for sale today. In fact—” His gaze shifted to the cowering green-haired boy. “—they aren’t even supposed to be out here right now.”

The two-toned-haired boy wasn’t backing down. “Aren’t they on the list for today? That’s what I was told, and if they are, I have every right to choose them.” The young Alpha shifted his stance, moving to stand in front of Midoriya, fearlessly facing the towering adult.

“Well—” Mr. Blue began, but Yuma couldn’t let him finish. She might not know Midoriya as well as some of the other staff, but she’d seen enough to know that the treatment here was torturous. No one deserved that. She had no idea if life with the Todorokis would be any better, but she had to hope. And judging by the young Todoroki’s protective attitude toward the Omega, there was at least some chance.

Oh, this is going to bite me in the ass later, she thought. But I have to do something . She’d never fought for control before—there had been little point, knowing Mr. Blue would regain control. But now… now, she had to try. Her body remained frozen, but her mind still had some awareness, enough to push against his control. She didn’t need her whole body—just her jaw.

It took longer than she wanted, but she managed to speak, “Yes,” she gritted out, her voice barely more than a whisper. But the response drew the attention of everyone in the room, and for a moment, she felt the migraine-like pressure against her head as Mr. Blue fought to regain control.

“What?” barked the number two hero, distracting Mr. Blue just enough for Yuma to push his influence away long enough to get a few more words out. “Midoriya is on the list for today.” As soon as the words left her mouth, the fog in her mind thickened once more, but it hardly mattered. The damage was done.

“Hm. Well, I guess that’s settled then,” Endeavor said, his voice firm and decisive. He turned his glare to Mr. Blue. “This is the one my son has chosen. This is the one we’ll take.” There was no room for argument in his tone.

Mr. Blue stared at him, wide-eyed, clearly incredulous, but Endeavor’s narrowed eyes didn’t waver. “Get the damn paperwork!” he snapped.

Gritting his teeth, Mr. Blue turned to Yuma. “You heard the man. Go.”

Her feet moved on their own, pulling her back to her desk. She rifled through the drawers, searching for the necessary paperwork.

She knew she’d pay for this later. The look in her boss’s eyes told her that much. But at that moment, she couldn’t bring herself to care, not with the relieved smile on the green-haired Omega’s face—the last thing she saw before she lost full control, and everything faded into darkness.

__________

Izuku could hardly believe it as he stood there, watching in disbelief as the receptionist handed over the paperwork for Shouto and Endeavor to sign. His thoughts were a jumble. The next thing he knew, Shouto had gently pulled on his hand, leading him to follow his father and Mr. Blue. The latter was guiding them toward a table where the paperwork would be completed. Most of the forms were for the younger of the two, since Izuku was becoming Shouto’s responsibility. However, Endeavor still had to fill out some sections and sign a form agreeing to cover any costs, like hospital bills, should Izuku get injured and his birth family be unable to pay. That was a relief—while the Midoriyas weren’t poor, they had their financial struggles.

Shouto gave the pile of forms a look of distaste but set to work nonetheless, scanning the first sheet and carefully writing his name with as much neatness as a seven-year-old could manage. It probably didn’t make much sense to him, but he persevered. Meanwhile, Izuku stood awkwardly behind him, feeling Mr. Blue’s hateful glare burn into his back.

He couldn’t tell how long it had been—minutes? Hours?—but eventually, with a satisfying thud, Shouto dropped the final sheet on the table. Though his expression didn’t change, Izuku could see a flicker of satisfaction in his eyes. It was subtle enough that no one but Izuku noticed, who had been watching intently, silently urging his new friend to finish so they could leave this place as quickly as possible. "Done," Shouto said calmly, and Izuku felt the tension melt from his shoulders at the sound.

“Perfect…” Mr. Blue muttered, his smile clearly forced. “The Omega can collect his things, and you can all be on your way.”

“I’ll go with him,” Shouto said firmly, leaving no room for argument. “It’ll be faster that way.” Endeavor paused for a moment, studying his son, then nodded in agreement. “Fine. We’ve wasted enough time here as it is.” Mr. Blue, clearly frustrated, ground his teeth, but Izuku was too busy hurrying out the door to notice.

Once they were out of sight of the adults, Izuku slowed his pace just enough to allow Shouto to catch up. They walked side by side, Izuku’s feet carrying him toward the room he had shared with others, his mind still racing. “See? I told you it would work out,” Shouto said softly, a small smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

“Yeah, I guess you were right,” Izuku replied with a wider smile, though he knew it was more fragile than it appeared. Shouto glanced at him with concern.

“Are you okay?”

Izuku hesitated. “No,” he wanted to say. “I’m not okay because I’m happy to leave, but at the same time, I’m leaving my friends behind. Does that make me a bad friend? A horrible person? And why does it feel like something awful is about to happen?” But instead of speaking those thoughts aloud, he forced a smile. “Yeah, I’m okay. Just a bit nervous. I’ll miss my friends, though. I didn’t even get to say goodbye to most of them. Only Yutto, because he and Kanna snuck out of class to see me…” He trailed off, not wanting to linger on the feeling of loss.

Shouto nodded, accepting the answer, and they continued in silence. When they reached the room, Shouto carefully pushed the door open, mindful of the walls. The room was as immaculate as it had been when Izuku first arrived; the rules here made sure of that. He pointed to his bunk, even though it should’ve been obvious, since he’d already claimed it. He pulled his suitcase from under the bed, setting it next to him on the mattress.

The bed dipped slightly as Shouto sat beside him. “Need help?”

Izuku nodded, heading for the drawers under the bunks. He pulled out two of the four, feeling a pang of sadness as he sorted through them. The colorful hero merch he’d once proudly worn was gone. All his clothes were faded, dull-colored, oversized hand-me-downs that hung off his frame. It was ridiculous—he knew they had clothes that fit him—but complaining wouldn’t do any good, so he just made do.

Shouto stood and came over to help. Together, they packed up the clothes, the soft hum of Izuku’s tune filling the silence as they worked. After a few final efforts, Izuku managed to zip the suitcase shut. “There! All done,” he declared proudly.

Shouto gave a small, understanding nod and reached for the bag. “We should get going.”

Izuku quickly stopped him. “Oh! You don’t have to do that, Shouchan. I can carry the bag.” He reached for it before Shouto could protest. After a brief moment of hesitation, Shouto handed it over, and Izuku’s body sagged under the weight before he adjusted himself.

“You ready?”

“Yeah… Wait, there’s one more thing. Do you think I could have one of your parents’ numbers? To give to my friends here…?”

Shouto paused, his face thoughtful. “Hm. It might be better to give them my sister’s number. My dad probably wouldn’t want random Omegas calling him to get in touch with you…”

Izuku raised an eyebrow. “And she’ll be okay with that?”

Shouto shrugged. “It should be fine. At least until you get your own phone.”

“Well, if you’re sure it’s okay…” Izuku slipped the paper with the number into Kanna’s pillowcase, making sure no one would spot it. He zipped the suitcase up again. “Alright! Let’s go!”

And with that, they left the room behind, ready to start their new journey.

__________

Midoriya Inko hadn’t expected much from today—just another quiet weekend in her home. Ever since Izuku left, it felt as though life had drained from the house itself. Or maybe that’s just how she saw it. She hadn’t ventured outside unless she absolutely had to. No, she had to stay home and make sure everything was perfect for when Izuku returned.

Mitsuki was coming over for some ‘ girl time ,’ but Inko knew her well enough to understand it was more of a check-up. It was no secret that she’d become more reclusive since Izuku’s departure, practically living for their once-a-month calls. So her friend liked to visit, talk about their savings progress, drag her out for walks, or try to get her to go shopping.

It was nice, in its own way. And Inko was grateful for her friend’s persistence.

Mitsuki arrived around three, as usual, with her bold personality as unshaken as ever. She marched into the house as if she owned it, and after exchanging pleasantries, Inko led her to the kitchen, where she already had tea prepared for them both. She wasn’t in the mood to go out today, and she knew the tea would be enough to distract her friend from bringing up anything too personal.

They settled in their usual spots in the living room, cups in hand, as Mitsuki ranted about the idiots she had to work with and the drama surrounding her temperamental son.

They hadn’t been sitting for more than fifteen minutes when Mitsuki’s phone rang. “Ah, excuse me for a second,” she said, already standing and walking back into the kitchen, leaving her cup behind. Her cell phone buzzed and lit up from where it sat on the counter, but Inko wasn’t in any rush to answer it. It was probably just a telemarketer.

“Hello? This is Midoriya Inko speaking. ...Really?! Um, okay. What’s the address?”

Inko grabbed the nearest napkin and, using her Quirk, launched a pen from the table towards her. She scribbled furiously on the napkin, trying to keep her voice calm. “Right, okay. Thank you. Goodbye.” The call ended with a click, and Inko tossed the phone aside, rushing into the living room with the napkin clenched in her hand.

“Mitsuki!” she practically screamed, making her friend jump in surprise, her cup clattering onto the table. “What? Inko, is everything okay?! Who was on the other line?” Mitsuki’s words were cut short as Inko finally managed to catch her breath.

“Someone bought Izuku.”

Chapter Text

The car ride to the Todoroki household was filled with heavy silence, broken only by the roar of the engine as Endeavor pushed the car far beyond the speed limit. Shouto gripped his new friend's hand in an attempt to comfort him, his own anxiety rising as he noticed the panic in his expression. Of course, this gesture remained out of sight from the rearview mirror—any sign of weakness, especially something as innocuous as holding hands, would be intolerable to his father. Not even with the Omega he had chosen.

The vehicle skidded to a halt in front of the house, and without a moment's hesitation, Endeavor yanked open the door and practically leaped out before the car had even come to a full stop. He slammed the door shut with such force that the car shook. Once outside, the flame-haired hero ignited his fiery quirk once more and marched toward the front door, his steps loud and purposeful.

Izuku remained frozen in the backseat, unsure if he was safe to move or if Endeavor would suddenly rev the engine again. But Shouto, unfazed, unbuckled and immediately began helping Izuku out of the car, whispering assurances that the car wasn’t going to start again and that they hadn’t hit anyone. The young Omega was grateful for the quiet reassurance, though he remained tense, his heart still racing.

Endeavor’s commanding voice cut through the still air as he barked an order for the two of them to follow.

Izuku allowed Shouto to help him out of the car, and together they hurried after the older Todoroki. As they approached the Todoroki home, Izuku’s eyes widened in awe. The house was nothing short of a mansion. The exterior, with its grand walkway and meticulously manicured lawn, carried an air of perfection. The house, traditional in style with its clean lines and neat shrubbery, felt both impressive and oddly unnerving—its flawlessness making Izuku itch with discomfort.

"Shouchan, your house is huge!" Izuku exclaimed in awe.

“Quiet!” Endeavor’s sharp tone made Izuku flinch. He immediately worried he had voiced his thoughts aloud, a habit he had tried to break. But the reprimand seemed to be aimed at his words in general—an attempt to silence him altogether.

Out of the corner of his eye, Izuku saw Shouto glare at his father, but he smiled at him reassuringly. After all, he was used to being yelled at and knew arguing wouldn’t help. Sometimes, being yelled at was the least of one’s concerns.

The front door slammed open, and Endeavor’s commanding voice boomed, "Fuyumi!" A young girl, looking to be about sixteen, quickly emerged from the hallway. Izuku studied her closely, noting that her white hair, tinged with red at the ends, matched her father's and youngest brother’s. Her grey eyes, however, looked tired and filled with an unease that mirrored the tension in the air.

"Get the others into the living room, now," Endeavor ordered. Fuyumi, without a word, nodded and dashed down the hallway.

"Come," Endeavor barked, not bothering to check if the others were following as he continued his march through the house.

Izuku and Shouto followed wordlessly, Izuku taking the opportunity to absorb as much as he could of the unfamiliar surroundings. Inside, the house was as traditional as the exterior—tatami mats lined the floors, and the décor was simple, yet the coldness of the space made it feel impersonal, almost as though the Todorokis were merely staying there temporarily. There were no family photos, no personal touches to make the place feel like a home. It felt more like a showroom, pristine but lacking warmth.

Endeavor finally spoke again, his tone flat, “Sit.” They had reached the living room, though Izuku hadn’t realized they were there already. They took a seat on the long couch against the far wall, and Endeavor, clearly displeased with something, took out an expensive-looking phone and a piece of paper.

“Wait here. When the others arrive, have them sit as well, Shouto,” Endeavor instructed, and with that, he stormed out of the room, his steps loud and unyielding.

The silence that followed was thick, though it was a welcome break from the tension. Izuku took the opportunity to scan the living room more closely. A low chabuda table sat in the center of the room, surrounded by zabuton cushions. Across from it, a large television dominated the space. Everything about the room felt excessively expensive—too much so compared to anything Izuku had ever seen. It made him feel out of place, like an outsider who didn’t belong.

Not long after Endeavor’s departure, a young boy with bright white hair appeared in the doorway. He seemed a few years older than Shouto, perhaps fifteen, and had a nervous grin plastered across his face, trying too hard to mask his unease.

“Father said to take a seat. He’s making a call,” the boy said softly, his voice betraying his discomfort.

Shouto nodded and muttered to Izuku, “It’s fine. He’s not angry. Just a bit tense.”

The boy, clearly trying to lighten the mood, plopped down next to Izuku, his smile more genuine now as he extended a hand. “Hey there. I’m Natsuo, Shouto’s older brother.”

Izuku, still feeling shy but excited, accepted the handshake. “It’s nice to meet you, Natsuo! I’m Midoriya Izuku, but you can call me Izuku. I’m Shouchan’s friend!”

“Friend, huh?” Natsuo raised an eyebrow. “Well, you treat my baby brother right, okay? He has a tough time making friends.”

Shouto, slightly embarrassed, scowled. “It’s not my fault,” he muttered, though he quickly added, “And I’m not a baby!”

Natsuo’s smirk widened as he ruffled Shouto’s hair. “Aww, you’re still my baby brother!”

Izuku laughed quietly, watching the playful exchange. It was nice to see Shouto so relaxed. It was the first time he realized just how tense Shouto had been before.

“I’m four years older than you,” Natsuo continued, grinning. “And Fuyumi and Touya are eight years older than you. That makes you the baby!”

Izuku, suddenly understanding the age gap, grinned at the playful banter. "Oh, so Shouto’s the youngest then," he thought to himself.

Just then, Shouto playfully shoved Natsuo, sending him sprawling onto the floor. Izuku giggled at the dramatic fall, watching Natsuo mock his brother’s betrayal.

But the moment was broken when a sharp voice called, “Natsuo!” Fuyumi’s voice carried a mix of concern and reprimand as she entered the room, accompanied by a tall boy with bright red hair. He seemed even more uncomfortable than Natsuo, though he followed Fuyumi into the room.

“You can’t let Father see you messing around,” Fuyumi said, her voice tinged with worry.

Natsuo, sensing her anxiety, stood up, his earlier playfulness fading as he retook his seat, his smile turning more nervous. “It’s fine. Just having a little fun before the flaming bastard returns.”

Fuyumi sighed, her shoulders sagging in relief. “I just don’t want anyone to get in trouble.”

“We know, Fuyumi,” Natsuo reassured her, offering a shaky smile. Izuku, feeling like an outsider, observed the siblings’ interactions with a quiet sense of longing. He didn’t fully understand what was happening, but he felt the tension thickening around them. He wanted to offer comfort, but he wasn’t sure how.

Finally, Fuyumi turned her attention to Izuku, offering a hesitant smile. “Sorry about all this,” she said quietly. “I’m Fuyumi, Shouto’s older sister.”

Before Izuku could respond, the red-haired boy spoke up, his voice a mix of annoyance and affection. “I can introduce myself, Fuyumi,” he said, flashing a half-smile at Izuku. “Sup, Squirt. I’m Touya, Shouto’s oldest and coolest brother.”

“Hey!” Natsuo protested, but Touya only shrugged.

Izuku couldn’t help but laugh at the exchange. For the first time since entering the house, the tension seemed to ease, and even Fuyumi allowed a small smile.

But the moment didn’t last, as the sound of loud footsteps echoed through the house, signaling Endeavor’s return.

In an instant, the room fell back into an uncomfortable silence as the siblings scrambled to arrange themselves, bracing themselves for their father’s entrance.

The couch was larger than anything the Midoriya family had ever owned, but with five people crammed onto it, they had to squeeze together to make room. Fuyumi and Touya sat at the ends, with Natsou pressed against his sister, and Shouto next to his eldest brother. Izuku found himself wedged in the middle of them all.

No sooner had they settled than Endeavor stormed into the room, his hair still burning bright and a cell phone gripped tightly in his hand.

His eyes quickly scanned the children, sharp and judgmental as if looking for something to reprimand them for. Finding nothing, he let out an exasperated huff before marching to the center of the room, looming over them.

"Alright, now that you’re all here," he started, sounding as though they had been late and he’d been the one waiting. Izuku noticed Natsou tense beside him, his jaw clenching, fighting the urge to say something. Touya, however, had no such reservations. "Yeah, thanks for finally making it to the meeting you called us for. Decided it was time to grace us with your presence?" His tone was teasing, his expression casual, though his eyes held a challenge. One Endeavor met head-on.

"Don't talk back to me!" he snapped, flames flaring higher in response. The entire couch tensed, except for Touya, who only gave a smug grin. Perhaps it was a small victory, but Izuku couldn't help admiring his brother's refusal to back down. He himself had trembled with fear in situations like this, and even now, he couldn't ignore the discomfort of being caught in such a volatile atmosphere.

It reminded him of Mr. Blue, in a way. Both commanded respect through fear, their authority unquestioned, their intimidation a tool used on those weaker than them.

"Father," Fuyumi interjected, her voice shaking, trying to diffuse the tension. "Why have you called us here?"

Endeavor's gaze snapped to his daughter, the flames on his head flickering before they settled back down. "As you’ve all noticed, there’s someone else here." Touya opened his mouth to retort, but Fuyumi's pleading glance shut him up. "Shouto has chosen an Omega." He extended his hand toward Izuku, who awkwardly raised his hand in greeting, despite their prior introductions. "The boy’s mother will be here soon to collect him, and I thought you should know who your brother chose. Touya, Natsou, that's all I need from you two." The dismissal was clear, and with reluctance, the two of them got up and left.

"We’ll discuss things like where you’ll continue your schooling and other matters when the boy’s mother arrives," Endeavor continued as if Izuku wasn't sitting directly in front of him. "Until then, Fuyumi, you did the research I asked you to, correct?"

Fuyumi nodded, keeping her eyes on the floor. "Yes."

"Good." Endeavor's attention shifted to Izuku for the first time. "I’ve asked Fuyumi to handle anything concerning your Omega needs when you visit."

Izuku winced at the thought. It must have been difficult for Fuyumi to look up information on Omega care, especially on heat cycles and pre-heat stages. He remembered learning the basics of it all in the facility, but it was always an awkward subject, usually handled by an Omega family member or a specialist. And why were they bringing it up now? He had years before needing to worry about any of it.

"It was a bit hard to verify some of the information, but I found some lists of dietary restrictions for Omegas, so I’ve printed them out in case you stay for meals," Fuyumi said, her voice faltering. "I also ordered scent patches for when you’re older, and I put some other items on hold." She glanced up at her father, half-expecting him to cut her off, but when he didn’t, she continued.

Izuku tuned her out. A pang of guilt hit him for ignoring her, knowing how hurtful it felt when people tuned him out. He didn’t mean to be rude, but he couldn't help it. While he appreciated Fuyumi’s efforts, he couldn’t help but want to correct a few things she mentioned, especially about supposed "dietary restrictions." Omegas ate much the same as anyone else, unless pregnant—something that applied to any gender that could carry a child.

The chime of the doorbell brought him back to the moment, and Fuyumi’s ramble stopped. Endeavor shot her a look of irritation before waving her toward the door. "That’s probably the boy’s mother. Get the door, Fuyumi," he ordered, and both Shouto and Izuku quickly scrambled to move away from him, standing in front of the towering figure as he sat down on the couch.

Izuku's eyes followed Fuyumi as she went to answer the door. "Go," Endeavor’s booming voice snapped. Startled, Izuku glanced up to meet the angry turquoise eyes that locked onto him. "Go," the man repeated, and Izuku understood. He exchanged a look with Shouto, who nodded, his face unreadable as he kept his eyes on their father.

Izuku quickly turned on his heels and walked briskly after Fuyumi, fear and instinct urging him not to run. He reached the front door just as the conversation became clearer.

"Ah, hello there. I’m Izuku’s mother, Midoriya Inko," he heard his mother say. "Um, this is the right house, right? This is the address that angry man on the phone gave me, but I wasn’t sure if..." Her voice trailed off, but Fuyumi’s response was swift.

"Don’t worry, you’re in the right place. I’m Todoroki Fuyumi, and your son—" She was cut off as Izuku rushed forward, and the two women turned to see him.

Their eyes met—green to green—and the recognition was instant. "Izuku…" His mother whispered his name, and that was all Izuku needed to hear. He ran forward, and Fuyumi stepped aside just in time for him to crash into his mother’s open arms.

Tears streamed down their faces as they held each other, savoring the long-awaited reunion. Fuyumi watched with a bittersweet smile, remembering her own feelings of longing for her mother. But there was no time to waste; Endeavor was waiting, and nothing good would come of making him wait longer.

"I’m sorry," Fuyumi said gently, her hand on Inko's shoulder. "I know you haven’t seen each other in a long time, but my father needs to speak with you as soon as you arrive."

Inko looked up at her, tears still in her eyes but a spark of annoyance flickering in her expression. "And he can’t wait a moment?" she murmured, wiping her eyes, though still holding tightly to her son. "We’ll have plenty of time to talk, but this is the first time I’ve seen my son in ages."

Fuyumi grimaced. She understood, she really did. If it were up to her, she would have given them a week, minimum, before bringing them back for a meeting.

But it wasn’t up to her. "I’m sorry," she repeated, her head lowered in apology as she tried to find a way to move things along without upsetting anyone.

Inko opened her mouth to protest again, but Izuku tugged on her arm, smiling at her with wide eyes. "If we get it over with now, we can get home sooner," he whispered, and her heart warmed at hearing him refer to their apartment as "home" after all this time.

She relented, squeezing his hand. "Well, I suppose we shouldn’t keep him waiting," she said, though her tone didn’t match her resigned expression. She gave Izuku a reassuring smile, and they stood up, still holding hands as they made their way back to the living room.

Fuyumi breathed a sigh of relief. Maybe, just maybe, the afternoon would pass without any more yelling.

Endeavor sat impatiently where they had left him, his arms crossed and a scowl etched on his face. Inko froze mid-step when she saw exactly who was sitting on the couch. Despite having distanced herself from the hero world in the absence of her son, even she could tell who the number two hero was. His flaming hair, even out of uniform and in civilian clothes, was unmistakable.

Thankfully, Izuku didn’t allow her to stay frozen for long. Using their connected hands, he gently tugged her further into the room, stopping next to Shouto. Both children stiffened as they felt the weight of Inko and Endeavor’s eyes scanning them. Izuku nudged Shouto with his shoulder in what he hoped was a comforting gesture, though he couldn’t be sure.

Finally, Endeavor broke the silence, his voice cutting through the tension. “So, you’re a Beta?” he asked Inko, his posture straightening as he puffed out his chest. To her credit, she met his gaze steadily and kept her voice calm, despite the itching feeling crawling under her skin, urging her to submit. “Yes,” she answered.

“And the boy’s father?”

“A Beta as well.”

An oppressive silence filled the room. Inko, unable to bear the quiet any longer, asked, “Does it matter?” Endeavor was silent for a moment, his eyes flicking from his son to Izuku, then nodding, as if to himself. He stood up from the couch, the furniture creaking under his shift in weight.

“Fuyumi, prepare tea,” he ordered, and the girl rushed off without a word. As she left, the fiery hero gestured to the chabuda table, just a few feet away. “Come, take a seat.”

Izuku remembered noticing the table when they first entered, but hadn’t paid it much attention until now. There were just enough zabuton cushions around it for the four of them. Cautiously, the Midoriya family sat next to each other, their hands still clasped under the table. Shouto sat across from them, leaning as far away from his father as he could without appearing disrespectful.

“Now then,” Endeavor began, “There are things we need to go over now that your son is Shouto’s Omega.” At that moment, Fuyumi rushed in with a small tray of tea, her hands trembling slightly as she placed a cup in front of everyone before quickly retreating. No one acknowledged her departure. Steam rose from the cups as Shouto glanced down at his tea, his expression unreadable. He hesitated for a moment before picking up the cup with his right hand, his fingers freezing the liquid with ease. Izuku fought the urge to bombard him with questions.

“First, we should exchange contact info until either of them are old enough to have a phone,” Endeavor said, grimacing slightly as if the words were hard to say. Despite his reluctance, he handed Inko his phone with a contact screen open. With wide eyes, she entered her number, then slid her own phone across the table. Endeavor gripped it with unnecessary force, nearly cracking the screen, before returning it to her.

Inko, eager to move things along, finally asked, “What needs to be discussed?” She wanted nothing more than to take her son and hide from this world. The way he had said “go over,” as though everything had already been decided for her son, left her uneasy. But if the law didn’t give her a say in her son’s future, she’d still fight to give him as many choices as possible.

“Visitations.” A silver key slid across the table, stopping in front of Izuku. He stared at it wide-eyed. “Shouto has requested you be allowed to visit whenever you’d like. This key is yours to keep,” Endeavor’s voice turned dark, “Don’t even think about losing it. Understood?”

Izuku nodded quickly, gripping the key with his free hand so tightly his knuckles whitened.

“As long as you don’t disturb Shouto’s studies or training, I have no issue with you visiting,” Endeavor continued. “But make sure to call ahead.” Shouto’s face darkened at his father’s words, but he remained silent. Inko raised an eyebrow, wondering why it was his father speaking instead of him. But she dismissed it, assuming it was just because Shouto was shy.

“Well, I suppose that’s fine,” Inko said. “Just remember, you have chores and homework to finish as well, sweetie?” she said, looking at her son, who nodded and offered a small smile. Endeavor snorted, rolling his eyes at her words, but she ignored him.

The discussion continued much like this—Endeavor laying down the rules while Inko interjected when she could, and the children remained awkwardly silent. Occasionally, Shouto would speak up, but only when he was directly asked. They both wanted to say more, of course, but they had long learned that speaking without permission from the adults never ended well. All they could do was exchange uncomfortable glances and shrugs as their parents argued in a passive-aggressive manner.

“Now, Shouto, what have you decided for the boy’s future?”

“Isn’t it a little early to—” Inko started, but was cut off by Shouto.

“A hero.”

Both adults turned to him. Inko’s eyes widened, clearly stunned. Endeavor raised an eyebrow, gesturing for him to continue. “He’s got the perfect Quirk for a support hero,” Shouto continued, glancing briefly at Izuku, who nodded slightly to signal it was okay. “It would help me get to areas quicker and contain villains I take down.”

“Hm…” Endeavor gave Shouto a thoughtful look, then turned to Izuku. “Your Quirk is called Freeze Frame, correct? It lets you freeze time.”

Izuku nodded. “Yes, sir. I can freeze time for about forty-five minutes a day now. It used to be thirty, but I’ve been able to extend it a little.”

A tense silence followed as Endeavor stared at him, the pressure of his gaze almost unbearable. Finally, Endeavor spoke again, his voice low. “What’s your reset period?”

“U-Um, my Quirk resets at midnight,” Izuku stuttered, looking down at his hands, hating his nervousness.

“Food or rest doesn’t work?” Endeavor pressed.

“No, sir,” Izuku replied.

“Hm… fine. If Shouto wants you as his sidekick, we’ll get you on a diet plan to get you in shape. But you’ll need to find your own way to train. I’ll test your progress monthly, but I expect that time limit to be up.”

Izuku’s heart swelled with hope. He didn’t want to be anyone’s sidekick, but this was Shouto’s way of helping him get closer to his dream without stepping on anyone’s toes.

“Wait a minute!” Inko’s frantic voice cut through the air, and everyone turned to her. Izuku’s hope flickered. “Isn’t it a little early to be deciding all this? They’re just kids. Every kid wants to be a hero at first. What if they change their minds?” Her words seemed to falter, but no one commented on it. Izuku wasn’t sure he wanted to know.

“These things can be changed later,” Endeavor said dismissively before moving on. Inko seemed to deflate, but the hero paid no mind. “Now, the last thing. We need to discuss his education. Specifically, where he’ll go to school.”

“There’s a private Omega school, though it’s far away and he’d only be able to visit on holidays. Or he can attend Shouto’s school.” Endeavor turned to Shouto for the final word, clearly unconcerned with what the others thought.

“We can’t afford either of those,” Inko interrupted before Shouto could speak. She didn’t back down when Endeavor turned his steely gaze on her. “I think you’ll find I can more than afford it,” he said smugly.

Inko didn’t give in. “He should be able to see his old friends again.”

“He can make new friends at Shouto’s school. Besides, what matters more—education or friends?” Endeavor retorted.

“Of course his education matters. But children need to socialize. Why take him away from his friends?” Inko fired back.

The argument continued, each parent clashing over what they thought was best. The children shrank back, and Izuku couldn’t remember the last time he had seen his mother so angry. It was clear to him now—she would fight for him, no matter the cost.

Shouto, who had been silently watching, finally stood up. “Father!” His voice cut through the argument, drawing the attention of both adults. He shrank back under their gaze. “H-He can go to his old school,” he stammered, his voice barely above a whisper.

Inko opened her mouth to protest, but Endeavor spoke first. “Fine. He can stay at his old school until the end of the year, but it’ll be at your expense. After that, he’ll transfer to Shouto’s school.”

“Fine,” Inko agreed reluctantly. That should be enough time for Katsuki to defeat the other kid. Though the fact that he was the number two hero’s son was concerning, she was confident Mitsuki’s son would be able to handle him.

This entire encounter only solidified her belief—her son would be better off with the Bakugous.

________

Touya and Natsou helped move his things from Endeavor’s car into the back of his mom’s.

“Your mom is a real firecracker,” Touya remarked, passing by with Izuku’s bag tucked under one arm.

“I know, right? I’ve never seen anyone yell at the old bastard like that,” Natsou said, his voice full of excitement. The two exchanged a look of mutual disbelief, still processing the scene. “Can’t believe Fuyumi almost passed out when she heard them arguing…”

“I can,” Izuku muttered under his breath, already tired of the conversation. It wasn’t really directed at him anyway. His mom was in the doorway, chatting with Fuyumi and exchanging contact information with her.

Shouto stood silently beside him, both of them observing the scene without speaking. “Your mom’s really brave, you know,” Shouto said, breaking the quiet.

Izuku’s head snapped up to meet his friend’s gaze. “Not many people would have the guts to stand up to the number two hero,” Shouto added.

Izuku smiled brightly, grateful for the compliment directed at his mother. “Yeah, she’s the bravest person I know. Although, I’m not sure I could handle it if she starts yelling again.”

Shouto nodded, his expression softening. The two fell into another comfortable silence. After a moment, Shouto spoke again. “I don’t think she likes me very much.”

Izuku turned to look at his mom, as though he could read her mind and determine the truth. “Well, how could she not like you if she doesn’t even know you yet?”

Shouto shifted uncomfortably, his gaze dropping to his shoes. “I don’t think she likes that I was the one who... got you.”

Izuku placed a reassuring hand on Shouto’s shoulder, hoping it would offer some comfort. “Well, I don’t think she would’ve liked anyone who got me. But we can show her how great you are. Then she’ll definitely like you!”

Shouto frowned slightly, skepticism in his voice. “You’ve only known me for a day. How can you know if I’m great or not?”

Izuku grinned widely, placing his hands on his hips with confidence. “Because you’re my friend, and all of my friends are great,” he declared with a matter-of-fact tone.

Shouto fell silent for a moment, but then the corners of his mouth lifted into a small smile. “Okay.”

________

The screen flickered to life with the bold red letters "Breaking News" scrolling across the top. The camera cut to a newscaster standing in front of a charred and smoldering building. The remnants of a fire still lingered in the air as water from the fire trucks slowly drained into the street behind him. His hair was tousled from the wind, and his expression was strained, as if he had just witnessed something deeply unsettling. He quickly composed himself as the camera zoomed in.

"Good evening," the reporter began, his voice steady but tinged with concern. "I’m Katsuhito Fujima, reporting live from what remains of the Tadakuni residence here in the heart of the city. Approximately four hours ago, fire crews were dispatched to the scene of a massive fire. Thanks to their swift and heroic actions, the fire was brought under control before it could spread further."

The reporter stepped aside, gesturing toward the fire truck parked nearby, where firefighters continued their work in the background. "However, in a tragic and unexpected turn of events, authorities have confirmed the discovery of two bodies within the ruins of the home. Police have cordoned off the area with yellow tape, and officers are still investigating the scene."

The camera panned briefly to the scene behind him before returning to the reporter's face, now more somber. "At this time, officials are still piecing together the details of what transpired here, but sources indicate that this was not an accidental fire. Police believe the victims—a Beta man, Tadakuni Nishimura, and his Omega wife, Koharu Tadakuni—were likely attacked by villains."

The reporter’s expression tightened. "Tadakuni Nishimura, a well-known and respected figure in the community, is confirmed as one of the deceased. He is believed to have tried to protect his wife during the attack. While he managed to fight off one assailant, it appears he suffered fatal wounds in the process. A truly heroic man, who gave his life to defend his loved one."

He paused, glancing down at his notes before looking back into the camera. "In an even more disturbing development, the body of Koharu Tadakuni has not yet been located, raising concerns that she may still be alive. Authorities are treating this as a potential kidnapping. Police speculate that a second villain was involved in the attack and that the fire may have been set intentionally to destroy evidence."

The reporter’s eyes narrowed, and his voice grew more serious. "While there are no official leads at this time, police are working tirelessly to find Ms. Tadakuni and bring her home safely. Investigators suspect that her abduction is tied to a larger, more sinister plot involving Omega trafficking, rather than a personal vendetta. The kidnapping of an Omega is a chilling development that points to something far more dangerous."

The reporter paused once again, raising his hand to his ear as he received new information. His expression shifted to one of controlled professionalism. "It seems we have an update. Police have now confirmed their suspicion that Ms. Tadakuni was specifically targeted for trafficking purposes, abandoning their initial theory of a grudge-driven attack. This case, as it now stands, is potentially linked to a much larger and more alarming network of Omega trafficking."

The reporter's plastic smile returned. "We will continue to follow this developing story closely and keep you updated as more information becomes available. For now, we’ll return you to your regularly scheduled programming. This is Katsuhito Fujima, reporting live from the scene. Back to you in the studio."

The screen transitioned back to the studio, where the news continued as usual, but the chilling implications of the report lingered in the air.

Chapter Text

The drive home was quiet, with his mother glancing at him repeatedly through the rearview mirror, as if she feared he might disappear if she didn’t check.

Izuku kept his face pressed against the car window, his eyes darting from buildings to people, searching for any sign of change since his last visit. A few times, he thought he saw children he used to play with at the park, but he couldn’t be sure. They’d all grown at least a little, and not all of them had their Quirks when he left, so they might look different now.

The car came to a stop, and his mother quickly shifted it into park. She hurried to help him out, despite his ability to do it himself.

Tears welled in Izuku’s eyes as he stared at the apartment complex where he had grown up. It looked just as he remembered it, and a warm feeling spread through his chest. The breeze was still a bit chilly, a reminder that winter lingered, though spring was near. He wondered if his mom still kept a box of flowers on the balcony. Maybe this year, she’d let him help plant them.

His mother gently pulled him from his thoughts, taking his hand as they walked up the stairs. He counted each door as they passed, even though he knew his address by heart, until they arrived at their door.

It had been so long since he last saw it. A part of him worried about what had changed inside, what he might have missed. But when his mother swung open the door with a flourish and led him inside, he found almost everything just as he remembered it.

His drawings and old report cards still hung on the fridge, and pictures of his mother with him adorned the walls, freshly dusted. A single photo of his father holding him as a baby stood out among them. Blankets were draped over the couches, the pillows neatly fluffed. And there, on the door, was the nameplate with All Might’s face—his room.

Tears streamed down his face. His mother squeezed his hand comfortingly. “Are you alright?” she whispered, her voice laced with concern.

Izuku didn’t answer right away, still lost in the scene around him. After a moment, he wiped his cheeks, smiling through the tears. “Mom, I’m home.”

__________

The rest of the evening passed in a blur of blankets and cozy conversation as the Midoriyas tried to catch up on the years they had missed. Monthly phone calls could only cover so much, after all. It was nice to finally be together again after so long.

The week unfolded similarly, as they spent time at home, adjusting to each other’s presence. Inko had grown accustomed to being alone—cooking meals for one, sometimes for Mitsuki, and working her part-time job at the library. Izuku, on the other hand, was used to waking up with four other children, following a strict schedule that began before the sun and revolved around precise meal times.

These habits have become ingrained over the years. Izuku had left when he was just four, and now, at nearly nine, adjusting to his mother’s less structured lifestyle was strange. But they were managing.

Inko hadn’t yet reintroduced him to any old playmates, but she had taken him on another tour of the neighborhood to make sure he wouldn’t get lost. It was like a floodgate had opened in his mind. Memories rushed back—playing with Katsuki at the park, sneaking past the chain-link fence to play hero agency in the woods, running into the corner store after school to buy new Hero trading cards.

Not all of his memories were good, though. He remembered the boy with wings who pushed him off the slide, spraining his wrist. He remembered being called “creepy” for muttering to himself. He remembered kids avoiding him because he hadn’t gotten his Quirk yet, and how he lost his name, replaced by “Deku.”

Shaking his head to clear the thoughts, he focused on the papers scattered across the kitchen table. It was Friday now, and Izuku was supposed to start school on Monday. His transcripts had already arrived, but a second one still needed to be filled out. That was what they were working on now.

His Quirk had grown slightly during his time in the facility. His time limit had stretched from thirty minutes to forty-five, and he could push it to fifty—but at the cost of passing out with a bloody nose and a migraine when he woke. It seemed like such a small improvement, and part of him was disappointed he couldn’t push it further. No amount of food or rest made a difference; his Quirk reset only at exactly midnight. He had tested it thoroughly at the facility, staying awake until just before midnight, using his Quirk, and then checking at 12:01 to confirm that he could use the full forty-five minutes again.

It also seemed to grow with him. He was small for his age, barely reaching the chins of other eight-year-olds. Hopefully, he’d have a growth spurt big enough to add another thirty minutes to his limit.

His mother’s phone buzzed in her pocket. The screen showed an unfamiliar number. She looked confused but answered anyway, lifting the phone to her ear. “Hello?”

Izuku watched as the tension in her face eased with the response on the other end. “Oh, hello, Shouto dear. Sorry, I didn’t save your sister’s number.” She had exchanged numbers with the young girl, figuring she’d be easier to talk to than their father. She listened for a moment before shaking her head. “No, we’re not busy, just finishing up some schoolwork for Izuku. But he can take a break to talk.” She passed the phone to Izuku. “You can talk if you’d like. I’ll finish up the rest.”

Izuku beamed at her, taking the phone. “Thanks, Mom!” He slipped out of his seat and walked to the living room for some privacy. “Hey, Shouchan! How are you?”

“Izuku,” came the somewhat relieved reply. “I’m okay. Just wanted to check in and see how you’re doing... and stuff.” The awkwardness in his voice was clear. Neither of them had talked on the phone much.

“I’m doing great! It’s awesome being with Mom again,” Izuku said. “She even took me to the old park I used to play at. It’s a bit worn down now, but it looks just like I remember it!” He would’ve continued about the park or another place his mother had shown him, but then he heard Shouto mumble, “Never been to one of those.”

Izuku froze. “You’ve never been to a park?” he asked, sounding more shocked than he probably should have.

There was a long pause before Shouto muttered, “Yeah... sorry.”

Izuku winced at how meek Shouto sounded. He couldn’t imagine never going to a park. “It’s okay, it’s not that big of a deal,” he said in his most comforting voice. “Hey, I’ve got an idea! You know how I’m starting school soon, right?”

“Yeah? You’re starting Monday, right?” Shouto replied.

“Right! Well, our schools aren’t too far apart. We can meet in the middle, and I’ll take you to the closest park!” Izuku’s voice buzzed with excitement. He really hoped Shouto would say yes. After a brief pause, Shouto’s voice shifted to something resembling excitement, but then quickly faded. “I don’t think my dad would let me go... he thinks stuff like that distracts from... training.”

Izuku’s heart sank, sensing something deeper in Shouto’s tone. “We can figure something out!” he said, trying to remain upbeat. “It’ll work out, I promise!” But the silence on the other end made it clear that Shouto wasn’t convinced.

Izuku took a deep breath and called upon the trick Kana had taught him—using his natural tears to make his eyes shine, even though Shouto couldn’t see him. “Please, Shouchan. I promise it’ll be fun...” he said, his voice breaking with feigned emotion.

There was a long pause before Shouto finally relented. “Okay, fine.”

Izuku let out an excited squeal. “Great! I’ll see you after school on Monday, okay? I’ll have Mom text your sister about where to meet.” Shouto murmured a quiet goodbye, and the call ended.

__________

Back-to-school shopping was just as fun as he remembered. Getting new pencils, notebooks, and a uniform was far more exciting than actually using them. Sure, he loved to learn, but the facility had taken the fun out of most things and added unnecessary stress. So, forgive him for being skeptical about the whole process. On the bright side, his mom was more than happy to get him as much hero merch as she could for his supplies.

Monday came much quicker than both the Midoriyas would’ve liked.

Inko made sure to wake up extra early to beat Izuku and his new early-bird schedule just so she could make him pancakes—an American meal he had always enjoyed as a child—for his first day. Half an hour after she got up, Izuku emerged from his room, already dressed and ready, his hair as tamed as it was ever going to get. His eyes widened slightly in surprise when he saw his mother awake and working around the kitchen.

Music softly played from a small radio by the stove, and his mother’s hips swayed as she spun around the kitchen with exaggerated motions before stopping to flip a half-cooked pancake. Izuku stepped further into the room, and she turned at the sound of his footsteps, a beautiful smile spreading across her face.

“Morning,” he greeted, and she moved closer to press a kiss to his forehead.

“Morning, dear. Ready for your first day?”

He nodded absentmindedly before peering around her toward the stove. “Are those pancakes?” His tone turned hopeful, and being the kind person she was, she handed him a premade plate with three pancakes.

“I was hoping they’d still be your favorite, but I couldn’t be sure.”

Izuku nearly snatched the plate from her, eager to eat his mother’s cooking and his favorite breakfast food. He barely stopped himself and offered her a grateful smile.

“It still is,” he said, “I haven’t had much of a chance to eat them lately. They were only made occasionally, and their food wasn’t nearly as good as yours, Mom.”

She flushed at the compliment before shooing him toward the kitchen table, ordering him to eat while she finished the rest.

Not willing to argue or wait any longer, Izuku sat down and started shoveling food into his mouth. He vaguely registered his mother scolding him from the stove, telling him to “calm down and chew,” just like she had all week.

Breakfast was mostly a silent affair. Once Inko had finished cooking all the pancakes, she sat down to enjoy her own, and the two exchanged smiles across the table, though they didn’t engage in much conversation. It was a peaceful morning, and Izuku tried to soak it all in before the inevitable chaos of the new school year.

The peace was broken by a loud knock at the front door, which startled Izuku so much he nearly jumped out of his seat. It sounded like someone was trying to rip the door off its hinges. His mother, however, didn’t seem concerned. Instead, she looked relieved, muttering, “Oh good, he’s here,” before rushing to the door to answer it. Izuku followed behind cautiously, wondering who she was so excited to see.

“Katsuki!” Inko called out excitedly as she yanked the door open. Sure enough, a small, spiky-haired blond boy stood there, shoulders hunched angrily.

“Hi, Auntie,” he grumbled, his expression twisting as if fighting to hold back a scowl. “The hag said I was supposed to walk Deku to school today. Is the nerd really back?”

“He sure is!” she said, stepping aside to reveal her son, who had previously been hidden behind her. “H-Hey, Kacchan!” Izuku greeted, a shaky smile crossing his face. The two friends hadn’t parted on the best of terms, but Izuku hoped the time apart had done them both some good.

Bakugou didn’t respond at first. He just stood there, looking Izuku over as if evaluating his worthiness to be in his presence.

“Well,” he finally said, a smirk spreading across his face, “you haven’t changed.”

Even with the distance between them, Izuku could tell Bakugou was nearly a head taller than him, which wasn’t surprising since most people his age were taller—even the girls—but it still left him feeling disappointed and a bit uncomfortable being looked down on, both figuratively and literally. Izuku fought the urge to hide behind his mom again from the judgmental red eyes boring into him.

“Neither have you,” he retorted almost without thinking.

Both remarks were true in a way. They looked almost exactly the same as when they were younger, just a bit bigger. But they’d both experienced things that had changed them. For better or worse, it was too soon to decide.

Inko began to fidget in the doorway, unsure what to do with the children’s silence. Any effort she might have made to start a conversation was interrupted by Bakugou, who was losing patience with the quiet.

“Well, let’s go,” he barked, already turning his back on the two Midoriyas. “We haven’t got all day, and I’m not about to ruin my attendance for you.”

Not willing to push his luck so early in the morning, Izuku rushed back to his room, grabbed his school bag—nearly bursting with his new supplies—and returned to the door. His mother wrapped him in a tight hug before placing a gentle kiss on his forehead.

“Have a good day, dear. I’ll see you after school.”

“Bye, Mom, I’ll see you later!” Izuku gave her his best smile before racing out the door after his childhood friend.

__________

Bakugou had dropped him off at the school office almost immediately after they arrived. Izuku turned to thank him, but the blond was already halfway down the hall. He still wasn’t quite sure how to feel about his old friend, especially since Bakugou seemed so distant. But a small part of him still hoped they could reconnect. He’d learned that friendship had to go both ways, and if Bakugou didn’t want to try, Izuku would just have to accept it.

The thought hurt more than he would have liked, but the sound of other kids approaching had him pushing it to the back of his mind as he opened the office door.

“Hello?” he called as he stepped inside, the door swinging shut behind him.

A middle-aged woman with dark purple hair and narrow glasses sat typing at the front desk, a phone pressed between her shoulder and ear. She made small humming sounds of confirmation that couldn’t have been very helpful to whoever was on the other end. She looked up when he called, her nose wrinkling in annoyance at the interruption. But it softened after a moment, though Izuku wasn’t sure why.

“Sorry, I’ve got to help a student now. I’ll call you back later.” She held the phone to her ear for another second before setting it down with a click and shifting her full attention to him.

“Hello, dear, you must be the new Omega student, right?” A small smile made its way onto her face, but it was only fake warmth, reminding him painfully of the smiles teachers gave when Mr. Blue came near at the facility. He fought the urge to look behind him to make sure they were still alone.

“Um, yes, ma’am. My mom said I could get my schedule from the office,” he said hesitantly, taking careful steps closer to the desk.

The woman nodded and stood up from her swivel chair to grab a sheet from a printer near the back wall.

“Yes, we’ve got it right here.” She passed the paper across the desk, but before he could grab it and make his escape to map out his route, she spoke again.

“So who’s your Alpha, dear? Or is it a Beta? It’s rare for Betas to be with Omegas, but I’ve seen a few couples like that. They’re just as happy as any other couple, I assure you, but—”

“E-excuse me? What?” The confusion must have shown on his face because she immediately began explaining.

“Ah, sorry dear, I just love gossip. My job can get so boring with nothing to do,” she said, though he could see a large pile of unfinished work stacked on her desk. He chose not to comment on it, not that she took a breath long enough for him to do so. “But I’ve never seen an Omega come in without their mate, and I knew you were an Omega the second you stepped in, of course, so I thought I’d ask. You’ll have to tell your classes, too, when you’re introduced. But I won’t hear the teacher gossip until this afternoon. I just hate waiting. Although I suppose I could just wait until later in the week after your files are fully submitted, but—”

Both of his hands shot up to cover the barely noticeable glands on the sides of his neck. “Wait, wait, wait, how could you tell I was an Omega? My scent hasn’t come in yet.”

He would’ve assumed she had looked at his transcripts, but the wording “the second you stepped in” threw him off.

“Of course it has, dear. Well, not fully, but you still smell much sweeter than a Beta or Alpha would. I’m a Beta myself, and I’ve got two children, so I’m really good at telling scents apart. That’s how your parents find you so easily when you run off, you know? It’ll fully develop around your tenth or eleventh birthday. That’s also when your scents open up, and they’ll change with every season from there.”

“Well, looks like you’d better head out now—class is about to start,” the secretary said with a shrug, plopping back down into her swivel chair and spinning around in it as if expecting him to be gone by the time she finished her spin.

“O-Okay, um, bye…” Izuku waved hastily before quickly rushing out of the office. “Is that how I sound when I mutter?” he asked himself quietly, suddenly feeling bad for everyone he’d ever rambled to, especially his mom, who had put up with it for years. “I hope not…”

The crowd outside was just as chaotic as he’d feared. He ended up taking a few elbows to the gut, but with everyone rushing to get to their first classes, the halls soon started to clear. He sent a mental prayer to whichever gods might be listening, hoping for a bit of luck as he finally managed to slip his way into his first class.

To his surprise, only about ten students were already seated, including Bakugou, who was talking with a few others. That did nothing to ease his nerves when every single pair of eyes turned to him the second he stepped into the room. It had been a while since he was the new kid, and he had no one to rely on for support here. Fortunately, the teacher saved him from just standing there awkwardly.

“You’re Midoriya, right? The new student?” the teacher asked.

Izuku turned toward the middle-aged man, who already had too many gray hairs for his age. His posture was rigid, and Izuku’s voice cracked despite his best efforts to keep it steady. “Y-Yes, sir,” he stammered. Bakugou snickered from his seat.

The teacher leaned against the podium, holding a piece of paper loosely in one hand. “There’s a seat in the fourth row, three desks back. Go ahead and take that for now, and when everyone’s settled in, you can introduce yourself.”

Grateful to avoid standing in the front any longer, Izuku quickly rushed to his assigned seat and practically threw himself into it. A few of the classmates already in the room continued staring at him, and a couple seemed to be working up the courage to approach. But then the bell rang, and the final wave of students rushed in, pushing and shoving to get through the door.

Relief washed over Izuku as he realized there was no time for anyone to try and talk to him before class started. Not that he didn’t want to make friends, but after being in the same small friend group since he was five, the idea of trying to make new ones was a little daunting. His relief didn’t last long, though, as he remembered that he still had to introduce himself to the class. Great.

The teacher gave him a bland introduction, barely acknowledging him, before waving for him to step up to the front. Izuku made his way to the front, his nerves bubbling up despite the fact that it wasn’t his first time speaking in front of a class. He’d always been anxious about public speaking, though, and with Aimee’s advice to take deep breaths and Souko’s confidence to take the spotlight, he usually managed to push past his anxiety. Their voices echoed in his mind as he stood before the class, all eyes on him.

“Hi, everyone,” he started, keeping his hands firmly at his sides to stop them from fidgeting. “I’m Midoriya Izuku. I’m seven, but I’ll be turning eight in July. My Quirk is called Freeze Frame, and it lets me freeze time for a short while.” He smiled a little more confidently as he spoke about his Quirk.

There was a long silence before the teacher piped up, “And who’s your mate?”

Izuku blinked. The teacher seemed to expect that he’d have mentioned it without prompting. Maybe he should’ve since the secretary had mentioned it earlier. “Oh, um, they don’t go to this school,” he replied.

The teacher’s eyebrows twitched, though their voice remained even. “You still need to introduce yourself as theirs.”

Izuku’s irritation flared, but he bit it back. ‘ Excuse me, sir, I don’t belong to anyone ,’ he thought, but that was technically false. The government considered him assigned to someone. Still, he found it rude.

“Well, as you’ve probably guessed,” he muttered, turning back reluctantly to face the class, “I’m an Omega, and my… mate is Todoroki Shouto.” He wasn’t sure what kind of reactions to expect from his classmates. He didn’t know many of them yet, and the ones he did recognize probably didn’t remember him. In the past, he was mostly known for being Bakugou’s shadow.

“Bullshit,” came the immediate response, from none other than Bakugou Katsuki, who looked about ready to explode. His expression shifted into a mocking smirk. “Endeavor’s son? Really? What’s the best you could come up with? Just tell us who actually bought your worthless ass and move on.”

Endeavor had never kept his family a secret. The birth of his first child had been publicized, and he’d done the same with his other two. When the youngest Todoroki was born, Endeavor had paraded him around—fights, award ceremonies, agency visits—pushing the expectation that his son would follow in his footsteps. However, despite the public knowledge of his children, few knew much about them beyond the headlines.

So for an Omega nobody to suddenly claim to be the mate of the son of the number two hero? It seemed unbelievable. After all, not only was Todoroki’s alleged mate enrolled in a public school when his father could’ve easily afforded to send him anywhere, but the Todorokis also lived in a town over. It didn’t add up. No way they’d send his mate to some run-down shit hole that barely reached the minimum academic standards required by law.

Izuku clenched his jaw, forcing himself to remain calm. He knew what he said was the truth, and that was all that mattered. “Can I sit down now?” he asked the teacher curtly, not wanting to stand there any longer. The teacher gave him a look that clearly said they thought he was insane—something that struck Izuku as extremely unprofessional—but nodded and gestured for him to return to his seat.

“Hey! Don’t ignore me!” Bakugou shouted, clearly on the verge of losing his temper. But Izuku did exactly that, ignoring him as he made his way back to his seat. The other students’ eyes followed him the whole way back and remained on him throughout attendance. Even once the teacher told them to focus on the board, Izuku could feel their gaze linger, and he dreaded the upcoming passing period when there would be no teacher to direct their attention away from him.

___________

The school day felt like it was dragging on forever. It was only lunch, but Izuku could already feel the weight of the day. The constant barrage of questions, most of them from Bakugou's yelling, had him already dreading the afternoon. His classmates had kept insisting he prove he was "bought" by Shouto. Izuku had denied it every time, but now people were calling him a "liar" and worse—terms no elementary schooler should even know. It was frustrating, especially when they didn’t understand the situation at all.

A few people were nice, of course, but they were either other Omegas who were whisked away by their mates or too shy to approach him in front of others, afraid of attracting unwanted attention. Izuku understood, but that didn’t make it any easier to bear.

The whole day had been miserable.

But at least he’d get to spend some time with Shouto after school. It seemed almost criminal that Shouto had never been to a park, so it was up to Izuku to change that. He’d even asked his mom for a couple of dollars to grab some ice cream if the truck still passed by their area after school. It had been a while, but he hoped the truck hadn’t changed its route. He just had to make it through the rest of the day. How hard could it be?

___________


It turned out, it was much harder than he thought.

After lunch, Bakugou stormed over to him, demanding that Izuku stay near him as they headed to gym class. Even though it had been a while since they’d interacted like this, Izuku recognized the familiar pattern of Bakugou’s behavior. Yelling was just how he communicated, but there was a subtlety to it that showed he cared. Bakugou used to insist that "only he could bully Deku" when older kids tried to take his All Might toys. It was before the nickname had come to mean "useless," before their Quirks had manifested, but surely not much had changed. This was just Bakugou’s way of looking out for him.

But it was hard to miss how everyone seemed to go out of their way to avoid him during gym. They dodged him when passing the ball, made sure not to brush up against him, and even avoided eye contact. At first, Izuku didn’t get it, but then, as they walked to their next class, Bakugou growling beside him, he noticed students pressing themselves against the walls to stay away from him.

He’d checked himself earlier—no notes, no weird markings. He asked Bakugou what was going on, but he was met with nothing but silence. That is until he overheard someone whisper, “Bakugou’s Omega.”

That’s when it clicked.

But Izuku wasn’t about to let it bother him. It was likely just a misunderstanding. He was new, an Omega, and had been spending a lot of time with Bakugou today. Maybe someone had misinterpreted their friendship. He’d heard plenty of stories from his old teachers about people making assumptions based on secondary genders. It was something that could be cleared up easily.

When they reached their classroom, Bakugou immediately went to his desk, propping his feet up casually. Izuku, instead of going back to his own desk, followed Bakugou and stood right in front of him. “Hey Kacchan, do you know why people are saying I’m your Omega?”

He expected a dismissive eye roll, maybe a grumbled "people are idiots," or at the very least, a "dumbass" from Bakugou. What he didn’t expect was for Bakugou to reply flatly, "Because it’s true."

"What?!" Izuku’s voice almost cracked with disbelief, but he managed to keep it down, remembering they were alone in the classroom. However, the shock made him forget about the other students staring. “I challenged your pathetic mate to a fight during lunch, no one’s stepped up to claim ownership of you. But they can’t hide forever,” Bakugou explained, as though it was the most obvious thing in the world.

“He’s not a coward! And I told you already, he doesn’t go to this school,” Izuku retorted, stomping his foot for emphasis. Bakugou rolled his eyes. “Uh-huh, sure. It really goes to show how pathetic they are when their Omega has to lie about who they are.”

“Why do you even want to fight him?” Izuku couldn’t help but ask, even though every part of him wanted to punch Bakugou. "You don’t even seem to like me as a friend anymore, Kacchan! So why would you want to try and be mates with me?”

“Don’t question me!” Bakugou snarled, his hands crackling with small explosions. “Weren’t you supposed to learn your place at that dumb facility?” He stood up abruptly, towering over Izuku now. His hands reached forward, sparks of energy still crackling along his palms.

"Alright, that’s enough," the teacher interrupted, finally entering the room. Izuku’s gaze shifted and he noticed that all their classmates were already seated, watching them intently. The embarrassment of being the center of attention was soon overtaken by his frustration. “Take your seats, both of you. And Bakugou, control your Quirk, okay? I know it can be hard to keep it in check when you’re upset, but you have to be gentle with Omegas.”

Izuku’s surprise was evident. Bakugou, who had been adored by the whole school for his Quirk and his future hero potential, was getting scolded by a teacher? Izuku couldn’t remember Bakugou ever getting reprimanded like this.

The tension in the room was palpable as Bakugou shot him a look of pure murder before sitting down with a loud thud. Izuku slowly made his way back to his own desk, just wanting this nightmare of a day to end.

School was way more exhausting than he remembered.

___________

By the time the final bell rang, Izuku had already packed up his school bag, eager to escape the barrage of questions and judgmental stares from his classmates. His mother would undoubtedly be disappointed by his lack of friends, but he'd try again another day—once his nerves weren’t so frazzled, maybe.

The teacher gave them a halfhearted wave as his attention shifted to his phone, but the dismissal was all Izuku needed. He practically had to restrain himself from running out the door, eager to meet up with Shouto.

"Deku," Bakugou’s voice was low and menacing behind him, signaling he still had unresolved thoughts from earlier that day.

Not wanting to deal with the confrontation, Izuku quickly made his way through the door and into the hallway, walking just fast enough to avoid a full sprint. His habit of staying low-key from the facility still clung to him.

"Get back here, we aren’t done!" Bakugou's shout echoed from behind him. Izuku ducked around a group of older students who had stopped in the middle of the hallway for a chat, a move that turned out to be in his favor. Looking back, he saw Bakugou had to shove his way past them instead of sidestepping as Izuku had. Looks like being small had its advantages.

He kept up his pace until he reached the sidewalk just beyond the school walls, where he finally let himself run. Katsuki’s shouting followed him, with the blonde managing to stay close for a good five minutes. But Izuku knew this area better. As he ducked into an alley and hid behind a metal dumpster, he let Bakugou pass by, out of breath and none the wiser. If his mom hadn’t given him a tour of the town earlier, he probably wouldn’t have been able to outmaneuver him so well.

Breathing a little heavily, he made a mental note to work on his stamina and emerged from behind the dumpster, heading toward the spot where he and Shouto had agreed to meet.

As soon as he rounded the next corner, he spotted Shouto—his red and white hair standing out as he nervously shifted his weight from one foot to the other. The tension in his friend's posture melted when he spotted Izuku, his shoulders relaxing.

"Hi, Shouchan!" Izuku greeted cheerfully, raising his hand high in the air, though Shouto had already seen him and was walking toward him.

"Hi," Shouto returned plainly, though his subdued greeting didn’t dampen Izuku’s excitement.

"Ready for some fun?" Izuku grinned, grabbing his friend’s wrist and pulling him toward the park.

"I suppose," Shouto replied cautiously, his expression shifting into something thoughtful. "My sister told me about parks after our call. She said some have playgrounds, with slides and swings and ladders." He glanced at Izuku for confirmation.

"Yep! That's the kind we're going to! It's got a huge play area! You’ll love it!" Izuku beamed with enthusiasm.

The walk wasn’t quiet, as Izuku filled the space with stories—some about a movie he’d watched with his mom, others about how he was planning to redecorate his room now that he was older. At one point, Shouto asked how his day at school had gone, but Izuku quickly assured him it had "gone fine" before steering the conversation toward a new hero he'd seen on the news that week. Shouto let the subject drop, much to Izuku’s relief.

The closer they got, the louder the sound of children’s laughter became, and Izuku couldn’t resist picking up his pace, dragging Shouto behind him. When they reached the park entrance, he released Shouto’s wrist and threw his hands into the air, calling out a triumphant “ta-da!”

Before them lay a simple playground—red and yellow monkey bars, big plastic slides, and a blue swing set, all set on grass that had been trampled down from years of use. Beyond the playground, a dense forest loomed, separated by a chain-link fence, though a small hole near the base looked like it had been made by kids. Nearby, a group of mothers chatted on a bench while their children played a chaotic game of tag, with one kid shouting about catching everyone before running to hug a nearby tree.

Izuku was used to being one of the older kids at parks, but there were plenty of younger ones here. He turned to warn Shouto to watch his step but froze when he saw the wonder on his friend’s face.

"And kids come here to play often?" Shouto asked, wide heterochromatic eyes taking in the scene.

"All the time! Well, they have to ask their parents first, but the park is almost always open."

"And you just play here? You don’t have to train?"

"Train for what?" Izuku tilted his head, confused. He was still pulling them into the park when a jogger passed by. Shouto tensed, his gaze snapping to the side. He quickly averted his eyes and muttered, "Never mind. Let's just go play."

Izuku hesitated but decided not to press. "Okay, so, what do you want to try first?"

Shouto took his time to look around, as if evaluating the playground the way Izuku did when he found a new Quirk to research. He had a lot of questions he wanted to ask about Shouto's Quirk, but now didn’t seem like the right time.

Finally, Shouto pointed toward an orange plastic tube slide with a small twist in it. Two kids, a girl and a boy, came zipping out, laughing and playfully shoving each other.

"The slide?" Izuku asked, already moving toward it. Shouto nodded eagerly, following close behind.

They dropped their bags under the slide’s support beams and climbed the brightly colored ladder. At the top, Izuku gestured toward the opening, grinning. "Go on!"

Shouto hesitated, eyeing the slide uncertainly. Izuku wondered if his friend was nervous about going down. After all, when Izuku was younger, he didn’t understand how slides worked either and had jumped down headfirst—resulting in a mouthful of dirt and ten minutes of crying until a kinder kid showed him how to do it properly.

Rather than go down with him, Izuku decided to demonstrate. "Like this!" he said, sitting down inside the tube and pushing off, leaning back to avoid hitting his head. He slid down and landed with a thud, quickly stepping away from the entrance. His hair was sticking out more than usual from the static, but he waved for Shouto to follow.

Shouto’s feet echoed in the tube, and a moment later, he emerged, eyes wide, looking slightly overwhelmed by the experience. He grabbed Izuku’s hand, pulling him away from the slide entrance to avoid a collision with another child.

"So?" Izuku asked, eager to know what Shouto thought. "Did you like it?"

Shouto, breathless, asked, "Can I try again?"

"Of course!" Izuku grinned, but just then, a familiar voice interrupted.

"DEKU!"

Izuku’s body stiffened before he slumped in annoyance. Bakugou’s voice carried through the park, and Shouto turned to see him standing by a tree near the entrance, looking none too pleased.

Bakugou didn’t seem out of breath, which made Izuku wonder just how long he’d been standing there.

After glaring at them, Bakugou’s expression cycled through disbelief, anger, and frustration before he yelled, “Fight me, bastard!”

Izuku stared at Shouto, who looked back at him in confusion. "Is it normal for other kids to challenge each other to fights at playgrounds?" Shouto asked, sounding upset by the thought.

“No!” Izuku answered quickly, waving his arms. “Well, not that I remember, anyway. Just… just ignore him.” He tried to distract Shouto by pointing back toward the slide.

Bakugou wasn’t having it. "Fuck off, Deku!" he yelled, causing a few parents nearby to grab their kids and pull them away, shooting glares at the blonde.

Izuku quickly explained, "Deku’s just a nickname. It’s from my full name, but it means ‘useless.’ It’s nothing, really."

Shouto looked even more concerned, and before Izuku could clarify, Bakugou screamed again. "Are you gonna fight me or what?"

Shouto sighed, slipping into a more indifferent tone. "Why do you want to fight me?"

“To prove I’m stronger than you, of course!" Bakugou answered eagerly, adding with less enthusiasm, "And to claim ownership of the nerd."

Shouto’s eyes widened before he turned back to Izuku, asking cautiously, "Is… is that what you want?"

Izuku’s frantic shake of his head was enough to ease Shouto’s worry. "Of course not!" Izuku answered, his voice high with distress.

"Why are you asking him?" Bakugou yelled again, but Shouto ignored him, focusing on Izuku.

"I don’t even know why he’s doing this," Izuku admitted, and Shouto sighed, resigned. "Can we go play on the swings after we’re done with him?"

Izuku nodded, eager to distract his friend. "Of course, but you don’t have to fight him."

Seemingly done with waiting, Katsuki launched himself at the pair, explosions propelling him forward as he reared back to strike at the Alpha. On pure instinct, Shouto raised his right arm, ice forming in a protective wall that followed his hand upward, quickly engulfing them both. The ice cracked under the impact of Bakugou’s explosions, which bounced off them with a crackling force. "Get back," Shouto commanded, just as the top portion of the ice wall shattered, and Bakugou’s open palms aimed straight at him. Shouto's stance shifted into a defensive position, clearly showing he’d had some solid training.

Izuku quickly obeyed, hopping back, but he didn’t stop there. "Stop," he muttered under his breath, his voice firm as he stood his ground. He was sure that the Alphas were too preoccupied to notice him. Technically, there was no rule against an Omega intervening to help their mate; it had just never been done before—at least not officially. Izuku knew it was about pride, and he couldn’t let his friend seem weak by ‘needing an Omega’s help.’ But how could he just watch this happen?

The familiar sensation of his quirk overtook him, and the world around him turned a muted gray as everything froze. He scraped his feet along the dirt to mark the spot where he stood so he could return to it later before making his way toward the pair. Nearby, parents stood at the edges of the park, mostly disinterested in the fight unfolding. It wasn’t unusual for two Alphas to clash over an Omega, so they simply kept their children out of the way, waiting for things to settle down. Izuku, however, ignored them, focusing on the battle before him. Bakugou’s face was frozen in a fierce snarl, while Todoroki’s expression was as neutral as ever, though his eyes radiated determination.

Licks of fire danced from Bakugou’s open palms and along Todoroki’s left arm, warming him as his right hand remained coated in frost. Izuku observed both of them, trying to figure out how best to intervene without causing harm.

An idea suddenly struck him. He lifted the edge of his shirt and wiped it across Bakugou’s palms, knowing that his quirk depended on sweat. If he removed the sweat, he would remove the fuel. Carefully, he wiped off Bakugou’s hands with the edge of his shirt, noting the sickly sweet scent of caramel that began to cling to the fabric.

Once he finished, he returned to his original spot, releasing his hold on time. The world rushed back into motion. Bakugou surged forward, but the sparks sputtered and died as Todoroki grabbed his wrist and froze his arm solid. Katsuki tried to blow the ice off with a frustrated shout, but no explosions came. He let out a small, relieved sigh as Bakugou began to rage, slamming his fist into the ice. "WHAT DID YOU DO TO MY QUIRK?!" he howled. Shouto responded coolly, "I haven’t done anything. Except win. You can’t fight now. Submit."

“LIKE HELL I WILL!!!” Bakugou raged, pulling at the ice that had encased his legs. Another kid from the crowd, a Beta that Izuku vaguely recognized from school, stepped forward, trying to get through to him. Shouto prepared to freeze him in his tracks as well, but the Beta raised both hands in a placating gesture, signaling that he wasn’t a threat. "Bakugou, dude, you’ve got to submit. You can't get out."

Bakugou’s response was a strained grunt as he continued to struggle. The ice on his legs held firm, and the ice on his palms stopped him from generating any sweat. After a solid three minutes, he finally came to the crushing realization that he couldn’t break free.

“Fine,” he spat out, the word dripping with venom. “I...I give.” The others paused, as Bakugou hung his head, refusing to look at anyone. Shouto cautiously moved forward and began melting the ice off him. Once Katsuki was free, the Beta tried to grab him by the elbow to lead him away, but Bakugou shoved him off and stormed off alone, his fury clear for all to see. The Beta trailed behind, calling after him, but the blonde ignored him, storming off in a fury.

The adults slowly dispersed as the fight ended, their children running back to the playground, and Shouto finished melting the last of the ice. Turning back to Izuku, he asked, “Can I try the swings now?” His voice was almost childlike, as though he were asking for permission. Izuku couldn’t stop the laugh that bubbled up. “Of course,” he replied with a bright smile before racing off toward the swings, closely followed by his friend.

When they finally left the park, Shouto admitted that out of everything, the swings had been his favorite part. Despite falling off them twice, scraping his knees, and bumping his head, the feeling of flying had been worth it. “It’s like I was a bird,” he said with such sincerity that Izuku almost felt bad for laughing.

Later, they treated themselves to ice cream, Shouto’s very first ice cream cone. Izuku couldn’t help but smile at the wonder on his friend’s face as he took his first taste.

Izuku knew that Bakugou wouldn’t be deterred for long. His pride wouldn’t allow him to leave it at this. But for now, there was no need to worry about that. Their ice cream was far more important.

Chapter Text

It had been three and a half months since Izuku’s return home, and Inko had unknowingly become the mother figure the Todoroki children had been missing. Despite her original plan to have Bakugou defeat her son in a fight and avoid the Todoroki family, she couldn’t help but mother the children whenever she had the chance.

From what Mitsuki had shared, little Katsuki had already lost several bouts to the young Todoroki, and though Izuku hadn’t said anything, Inko had a sinking feeling that her son might have been quietly helping his new friend. But she had no proof, and she wasn’t about to bring it up. For now, she could only wait and see.

She had also promised to enroll Izuku in the same school as Shouto by the end of the school year, and with time running short, it would only take more time for Katsuki to try and figure out how to challenge Shouto for her son’s sake.

Though their father was, to put it mildly, difficult, the children themselves were sweet, if a bit awkward.

Fuyumi had been the most eager to get to know her. Initially, Inko had only shared her number with Fuyumi as a “just in case” measure, not trusting the children’s father to notify her if anything went wrong. But with no mother to turn to, Fuyumi had gradually begun seeking Inko’s help and advice. Inko was delighted—she adored her son more than anything, but she found joy in having an almost-daughter to support.

At first, it was small things—recipes for her youngest brother’s special diet—but soon Fuyumi had started asking about clothing, how to handle her brothers’ antics (which didn’t surprise Inko; they were a handful), and eventually, more personal matters.

Inko had always been observant, a trait her son had inherited, so it wasn’t lost on her when Shouto’s mother was absent at their first meeting. She’d brushed it off at the time, but as Fuyumi continued to come to her for advice, Inko had assumed that the woman had simply stepped out of the children’s lives. She could never have predicted what had happened to their mother.

“She had a mental breakdown,” Fuyumi said, her voice trembling. She hunched her shoulders, trying to make herself as small as possible. The two women sat in Inko’s living room, while Shouto and Izuku played in the next room, their laughter punctuated by soft thuds as something bounced off the walls. “I-I guess… being the wife of the number two hero was too much for her. She ended up snapping and burned Shouto after he startled her one night. Father sent her to a hospital after that… didn’t even let us say goodbye.” Her voice broke with emotion, though she kept it quiet enough to prevent the boys from overhearing.

Inko’s heart ached as she pulled the girl close, her arm wrapping around her shoulders as she gently rubbed her back. “I’m so sorry, dear,” Inko whispered. “None of you should have had to go through that.” Fuyumi’s tears were already falling, and Inko reached for the forgotten cup of tea, pushing it into the girl’s hands.

Fuyumi took the tea, wiping her eyes. “Last time Touya went to see her, she had a panic attack,” she said, voice trembling. “And Shouto is sure she hates him and refuses to go anymore. It’s just... so hard.”

Inko continued to rub Fuyumi’s back, her thoughts in turmoil. She wanted to say something comforting, but the right words eluded her. She could feel the weight of everything Fuyumi was carrying. It wasn’t often that words failed Inko, but in this case, she had nothing to say that could erase the pain.

She wanted to say that everything would be okay, but deep down, she knew she couldn’t promise that. What Fuyumi needed was not empty assurances, but real help. And while Inko wasn’t a hero, she was a mother—and she had always been good at that. So, she did what she did best and wrapped Fuyumi in a tight hug.

“You don’t have to carry all of this alone,” Inko said softly. “You have your siblings, and they love you, even if they don’t always show it. You have your father, too,” Inko added, though she felt Fuyumi tense slightly at the mention of him. “And you have me. My door is always open to you or any of your siblings. You don’t have to go through this alone.”

Though questions lingered in her mind, Inko didn’t push them. Fuyumi had already cried so much that day, and Izuku’s playdate would end soon. But Inko promised herself that she would make time to ask her questions later. For now, she would focus on being there for the girl, because no child should flinch at the mention of their own father.

_______

Less than four weeks later, during a heavy thunderstorm, Inko received an unexpected knock at the door. There hadn’t been any plans for Shouto and Izuku to meet that day, and Inko was busy preparing dinner while Izuku sat watching a hero cartoon, muttering along as the characters raced across the screen.

“One minute,” she called out, though she wasn’t sure the person on the other side could hear. Quickly wiping her hands on her apron, she turned down the stove before heading to the door. As she opened it, the sound of the rain intensified, and the smell of ozone filled the air. “Hello—” she started, but then froze when she saw a familiar drenched figure standing in front of her. “Natsou?”

The boy hesitated, his feet shifting nervously as he stood there, water dripping from his clothes and pooling on the floor. He looked like he'd just gotten out of school, still in his black seifuku uniform, a signature of his private school. The dark blue randoseru was slung casually over his shoulder, completing the look. “Hi, Ms. Midoriya,” he mumbled, his voice unsure. “I’m... sorry to just show up like this, but, um—” His grip on the strap of his bag tightened, and he peered into the apartment. “Can, uh, can I come in for a bit?”

Snapping out of her daze, Inko quickly stepped aside. “Of course, dear!” she said, gesturing for him to enter. Turning toward the living room, she called out, “Izuku, honey, go get some towels from the closet.” The sound of quick footsteps was her only response as she shut the door behind the dripping boy.

Without warning, Natsou began to shake his head like a wet dog, sending droplets everywhere before he stopped with a jolt, his face flushing with embarrassment. “Oops, sorry about that…” Inko waved off the apology, more than used to her son doing something similar when wet.

At that moment, Izuku appeared in a rush, two large towels folded in his hands, his head barely visible over the top. “Here, Mom!” he announced proudly. Inko gave his head a quick pat and thanked him before draping one towel over Natsou’s head and using her free hand to remove the boy’s randoseru and set it down on the floor.

“Use these to dry off a bit,” she said. “I’ve got to check on dinner, but you can sit at the table when you’re dry, and we can talk, alright?” Natsou nodded, using the towel to shake out the rest of the water in his hair. Inko, eager to avoid any dinner mishaps, hurried back to the oven, leaving Izuku to entertain their guest.

Natsou didn’t mind. He was more than willing to let the energetic Izuku drag him to the living area, the younger boy talking so rapidly that it was hard to keep up with him. Despite the speed, Natsou nodded along when it seemed appropriate, his gaze lingering on Izuku with something like envy.

Inko focused on finishing dinner, trying to put the strange look in the back of her mind. She had to admit, there was something in Natsou’s expression that intrigued her, but now wasn’t the time to ponder it. “Izuku,” she called out when dinner was ready.

Immediately, the chatter stopped, followed by the thump of footsteps as her son ran into the kitchen. “Yes, Mom?”

“Go set the table, please,” Inko instructed, handing him the silverware. Izuku nodded eagerly and scampered off to fulfill the task.

Turning back to Natsou, Inko asked, “Do you think you’re dry enough to sit at the table, or should I get you another towel?”

There was a brief pause before Natsou spoke up. “I think I’m good, but I might need a towel to sit on.”

Before Inko could reply, Izuku dashed past her, calling out, “I’ll get it!” as he went off to fetch it. Inko sighed at her son’s boundless enthusiasm. “You better have finished setting the table, young man!” she called after him, but there was no response.

“I can finish for him,” Natsou offered, surprising her by his sudden closeness. He stood just a few feet away, his towel still wrapped around his hair as he shook it out, water droplets flying. How had he moved so silently?

Inko’s startled silence lasted for a moment before she quickly thanked him and handed him the plates that Izuku hadn’t set out yet. Just then, Izuku came running in again, holding a fluffy towel in his arms.

“I got an extra fluffy one!” he announced proudly, offering it up to Natsou with a big grin.

“Awesome,” Natsou replied, giving the boy a lazy smile and a thumbs-up. Izuku beamed in response, clearly pleased by the praise. Natsou spread the towel across a chair and helped Inko carry the food to the table.

“Thank you for letting me stay for dinner,” Natsou whispered, just loud enough for Inko to hear. When she glanced over at him, she was taken aback by the emotions flickering across his face—too many to unravel in the moment, especially with her eight-year-old son bouncing eagerly in his seat, waiting to dig in.

“You’re always welcome here,” Inko assured him warmly before gently guiding him to a seat.

_________

Touya had taken a lot longer than the other children to come around. He usually appeared toward the end of Izuku and Shouto's hangouts, only to walk his brother home, adamantly refusing to come inside.

Inko understood, of course. The boy had no obligation to spend time around her if he didn’t want to. He tolerated her, maybe even respected her a little after she backtalked her father, but it was clear he kept her at arm’s length. And though she felt a twinge of disappointment, she respected his space.

That was until her front door slammed open with such force she feared the wall might give way. Fearing a robbery, she instinctively grabbed a knife from the kitchen drawer and peeked around the corner to see who was rushing down the hall.

“Set him on the couch!” Izuku’s voice echoed from the door, and a moment later, a man with blond hair and large red wings hobbled into the living room, Touya’s arm draped over his shoulder, visibly limping. Shouto was close behind, his expression unreadable, but his eyes betrayed panic as he hovered nearby. In the background, Inko heard the bathroom door creak open and someone rummaging through the cabinet.

Snapping out of her stupor, she dropped the knife on the counter and rushed to the couch where the winged teen was laying Touya down. “What’s going on?” she asked, her voice sharp, and both teens looked up at her in unison. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Shouto’s shoulders relax, though she was more focused on the injured teen.

The blond opened his mouth to explain but was interrupted by Izuku rushing in with a small first aid kit. “I got it!” he shouted. As soon as he saw his mother, he visibly relaxed and shoved the kit into her hands. “Mom! You have to help Touya, he burned himself really bad!”

“It’s not—” Touya began to protest, but Inko cut him off with a firm gesture.

“I’ll be the judge of that. Show me where,” she instructed, and with visible reluctance, he complied. Together with the blond teen, they rolled up the legs of his pants as high as they could, revealing red, blistered skin, already swelling up to his knees.

“Second-degree,” she muttered, taking the first aid kit from her son and opening it. “Shouto,” she called, and the boy snapped his attention to her. “Go get a towel, soak it in cold water, then bring it back.” He hesitated but nodded, darting off to do as instructed. Meanwhile, she turned to Izuku. “Fill the bathtub with cold water, too.”

As she prepared, she pulled gloves from the kit and turned her attention back to Touya’s legs. “I’m going to touch your legs a bit, okay?” she warned gently. He gave a reluctant nod, and she carefully checked his calves. The pounding of small feet echoed behind her, and Shouto returned with the dripping towel, handing it over without a word.

“Thanks,” Inko murmured, wrapping the cold towel around Touya’s burns to cool them. She knew applying ice directly would cause more damage, and since she couldn’t use the sink to cool both legs, this would have to do. She heard the bathtub turn off, accompanied by Izuku’s voice shouting, “It’s ready, Mom!”

Turning to the blond teen, she gave him a quick once-over before gesturing him closer. “Help me get him to the tub. We have to clean his legs before any infection sets in.”

“It’s not that big a deal,” Touya muttered, but neither of them paid him any mind. The blond teen nodded and threw Touya’s arm over his shoulder, helping him up. Inko followed suit, awkwardly supporting his other arm. Despite the height difference between her and the boys, they managed to get him into the cramped bathroom. They sat him on the tub’s ledge, dipping his feet into the cold water. Touya hissed but didn’t speak further.

The bathroom, already small, now felt even more cramped with three people—two boys and one with large wings—crowding inside. “Boys,” Inko said, her attention focused on the water. “Why don’t you two go play in Izuku’s room for a bit? I’ll handle things in here.”

Reluctantly, the boys nodded, Izuku even grabbing Shouto’s wrist to pull him along. “It’ll be okay, Shouto,” she heard him reassure his friend as the door clicked shut behind them. “My mom’s really good, she’ll fix him just fine!” Inko couldn’t help but smile faintly, hearing Izuku’s soft murmur, “All Might...” trailing off as they left.

Once the door was closed, she turned back to the teen in front of her. “So,” she began, her voice calm and steady, “does anyone want to tell me what happened?” As she gently cleaned his burns without popping the blisters, she kept her eyes focused on the task at hand.

The room fell silent. The only sounds were the soft rustle of her movements and the steady hum of the bathroom fan. Finally, after what felt like an eternity, Touya let out a heavy sigh.

“My Quirk wasn’t made for my body,” he started, his voice rough. “My body was meant for an ice Quirk. Instead, I got fire. So whenever I use it for too long, it starts to burn me.”

Inko’s heart skipped a beat at the thought. Touya had volunteered to take the boys out to the park while their father was away on a mission. The fear that gripped her was immediate: a villain attack, a need to defend with their Quirks. But Touya had reassured her. “Why were you using your Quirk?” she asked quickly, not wanting to jump to conclusions. “Did something happen at the park? Is everyone okay?”

Touya shifted, his posture slouched, and he waved away her concern. “There weren’t any villains, if that’s what you’re asking,” he said, his tone defensive but not completely dismissive. “Just some jerk at the park. I got angry and used my Quirk without thinking.”

“Always the hothead,” the blond teen spoke up, breaking the tension in the room. Inko hadn’t even noticed he was still there, lost in her concern for Touya. The smirk on his face, though playful, hinted at fondness. “Fighting everyone that looks at you wrong is probably not the smartest move, don’t you think?”

“Shut up,” Touya snapped, but it lacked its usual venom. He winced, his gaze flickering to Inko as he realized his mistake. “Sorry,” he muttered, and Inko couldn’t help but smile softly at his rare apology.

Ignoring the slip, Inko decided to press forward. “I don’t think we’ve properly introduced ourselves,” she said, lowering herself into a small bow. “I’m Midoriya Inko.” She raised herself and gave him a steady look.

The blond teen stiffened, a flicker of anxiety crossing his face before he awkwardly returned a deep bow, nearly colliding with the coffee table. “Oh, sorry!” he exclaimed, straightening up with a nervous chuckle. “I’m Takami Keigo.”

Touya hesitated, then spoke up in a tone that was almost sheepish. “He’s my boyfriend.” His voice dropped, and his shoulders hunched as if bracing for a reaction.

Inko blinked, taken aback. The revelation didn’t shock her—it was more the realization that both boys were Alphas. She had never given much thought to Alpha/Alpha relationships. Society wasn’t always kind to such pairings, but looking at the two of them, she realized it didn’t matter.

“Well,” she began, smiling warmly, “I’m sure I don’t need to tell you to take good care of him then.” She directed the comment to Keigo, who immediately froze, his jaw dropping in surprise.

He quickly snapped his mouth shut and nodded eagerly. He was about to bow again when Inko waved him off with a laugh. “No need for that,” she said, waving her hand dismissively. “Now, would anyone like some tea? I heard Izuku mention All Might videos, so I suspect the two of them will be in his room for a while.”

Chapter Text

Inko sometimes felt as though her son was becoming someone entirely new. He was no longer the carefree child who had left her care four years ago. Sure, he still displayed his quirky habits, like muttering to himself and his obsession with heroes. But there was something about him that had changed. The way he carried himself now made Inko feel as if there was something he was hiding.

Izuku had gotten much better at lying, and though that filled her with a sense of dread, Inko still recognized the subtle signs that gave him away. Perhaps that was why she hadn’t confronted him about it—she feared he would learn to conceal those tells, and she wouldn’t know when he needed her. She wasn’t willing to take that risk.

She loved and trusted him, but the years apart seemed to have shifted their relationship. It no longer felt as though he could turn to her with the same ease he once had. Or maybe this was just part of the process when children grew up. She wasn’t sure.

The change had come suddenly for Inko. One moment, she was caring for her four-year-old son, so innocent and curious about the world, and the next, she was handed an eight-year-old who looked just like him, but who had changed so much she could hardly recognize him. She hadn’t been there to witness his transformation, and it left her wondering what had happened at that facility that had made her son so distant. All she had left was the comfort of knowing he was no longer trapped there.

At least now, she could make an active effort to protect her child, something she should have done all these years.

______

No matter how many times he visited, the size of the Todoroki house always left Izuku in awe. But despite the grandness of the home, he couldn’t shake the feeling that the halls were empty. The silence was deafening, and the walls seemed cold and devoid of warmth. The mansion, though stunning, felt untouchable. The garden was meticulously cared for, the grass and bushes always trimmed just so. Everything looked perfect—unnaturally so. Izuku often felt as though touching anything would cause it to shatter.

It was the complete opposite of his own home. The Midoriya household might have been small and a bit worn down, but it was filled with love, comfort, and familiarity.

Izuku missed the chaotic charm of his own place—the half-folded blankets draped over the couch, the faded dents and crayon drawings on the walls from when he was younger. The Todoroki house felt sterile in comparison, its inhabitants standing tall and laughing freely. He always felt happy for his friend when he saw Shouto open up, even if his smiles were small and reserved compared to the Midoriya family's.

But now, Shouto wasn’t smiling. Not that it was unusual—he never smiled around his father.

Endeavor had taken the entire day off and decided they would all train together. Normally, this would have thrilled Izuku, but the fear he saw flash across Shouto’s face when Endeavor announced the plan unsettled him. Shouto had been silent ever since, refusing even to glance in Izuku’s direction.

Izuku felt upset, even a little scared. It was just training, right? So why was Shouto reacting this way?

Endeavor led them into another room, a large training space with no windows but plenty of light. The floor was open, filled with workout equipment pushed into the corner. Izuku recognized the room—he’d heard about it before, but this was the first time he had been allowed inside.

‘This must be the training room, ’ he thought, eyes lingering on the punching bag with an unfamiliar logo.

“Alright,” Endeavor began, arms crossed and his scowl firmly in place. Izuku had never seen the man without it. “Shouto,” he called, addressing his son, who flinched despite his attempt to hide it. “We’re going to show them,” he gestured to Izuku, “what I expect from their training.”

Endeavor turned his gaze to Izuku. “I’m aware that you didn’t have proper training during your time at the facility. But now that you’re going to be a hero, you’ll start training immediately. I won’t tolerate you embarrassing the Todoroki name.”

Izuku bristled at the remark but kept quiet. After all, Endeavor was the Number Two hero, and arguing would only make things worse.

“You’ll train on your own or whenever Shouto calls on you. Once a month, you’ll train with him, and I expect to see progress. Don’t drag down my son’s reputation.”

The room was silent, the two boys too frightened to speak. Endeavor seemed to take pleasure in their discomfort, his scowl deepening. “Now,” his voice boomed, “pay attention. You’re up next.”

A look of dread crossed Shouto’s face, and Izuku couldn’t help but mirror his friend's anxiety. It was just training, after all. Endeavor had years of experience and would know how to train them, right?

_________

When Izuku was invited to training that day, he wasn’t sure what he was expecting. But nothing could have prepared him for what he witnessed.

It wouldn’t be accurate to call it a fight. It was more like a grown man mercilessly beating a child—his child—who was desperately trying to fend him off. The scene was cruel, violent, and devoid of any compassion. There was barely any instruction, just a barrage of insults about how ‘weak’ Shouto was and how he would ‘never amount to anything, especially not a hero.’ Despite his massive size, Endeavor barely held back. At one point, Izuku could’ve sworn he heard a bone snap during a particularly brutal kick to Shouto’s chest.

Izuku wasn’t sure how long he stood frozen in horror, unable to look away from the nightmare unfolding before him. His legs were like stone, and breathing felt like an effort. He was rooted to the spot, unable to tear his gaze away from the brutal assault, even though every fiber of his being screamed at him to run.

It wasn’t until Shouto’s voice, choked with pain, cried out, “Wait, wait! Stop— I can’t—,” that Izuku was able to move. His quirk buzzed to life beneath his skin, urgently demanding to be unleashed, a sensation he hadn’t felt since the first time his quirk activated when a car came barreling toward him.

He rushed forward, extending his arm toward the chaos, shouting, “STOP IT!” with all the force he could muster. The world around him began to slow, a familiar gray tint overtaking everything as time seemed to freeze. Despite the stillness of the world, Izuku couldn’t relax. His heart pounded as he continued toward Shouto, who was kneeling on the ground, one hand clutching his stomach and the other outstretched as frost began to form—an attempt to create an ice barrier against the flames his father had sent flying toward him.

Izuku skidded to a stop in front of Shouto, his heart racing with adrenaline. What could he do? What should he do? Every part of him screamed to run, to grab Shouto and escape. Time manipulation made objects feel lighter, so it wouldn’t be difficult to carry him away. And no one could chase them as long as his quirk was active. But that wouldn’t be a lasting solution. Even if they ran now, they wouldn’t get far before they were caught—and Shouto would be dragged back, facing an even angrier father.

But there had to be something he could do!

“Come on, come on. Think!” he shouted, pulling at his hair in frustration, his eyes welling with tears.

Shouto needed help, but who could he turn to? A hero? But the one who needed help was the hero causing all of this. Would another hero even intervene if they saw the number one hero doing this? It wasn’t a risk he could take. Maybe another adult? His mom would help, but it would take too long—he’d have to run to his apartment, unfreeze time, and explain everything. No, it was too much.

He needed someone closer.

“I’ll be back, just hold on, okay?” he whispered to his frozen friend, despite knowing he couldn’t be heard. “I’ll— I’ll get help.”

Unable to stay still any longer, he sprinted down the hallway, hoping to find someone—anyone—who could help. He’d seen maids, tutors, and gardeners around the Todoroki household before. Surely Endeavor wouldn’t be brazen enough to do this in front of an adult, right? And they’d intervene, right?

When he reached Fuyumi’s room, he pushed the door open slightly, unsure if she could help. What he saw inside filled his stomach with dread: Fuyumi was hunched over on her bed, hands pressed to her ears, tears frozen in place as they dripped down her face.

Could she hear the fighting from here?

Izuku pushed the thought aside. He didn’t have time to comfort her—he still needed to find help for Shouto. His internal timer was already ticking. Soon, his forty-five minutes would be up, and not only would Shouto suffer more, but Izuku would too—he’d face the training with no quirk to defend himself.

He didn’t run into anyone else in the hallways. Not even Natsuo seemed to be home. Desperate, Izuku darted for the front door, hoping that a random stranger might help. But thankfully, it didn’t come to that.

Touya stood frozen halfway through the door, his head turned toward something behind him. His foot was raised in mid-step. The sight of him filled Izuku with overwhelming relief—Touya was someone he could trust. He’d seen him use his quirk to protect them before, even though it hurt him.

Without wasting another second, Izuku let time flow again, not even allowing Touya to complete his step before shouting, “Touya!” The blue flames that shot out from Touya nearly singed Izuku’s hair, narrowly missing his head.

“Shit—kid, what the hell are you—”

“Help!” Izuku cut him off, the urgency in his voice leaving no room for politeness. “It’s Shouto! He’s—Endeavor is—” His words came out in a jumbled mess, but by some miracle, Touya understood. His eyes flickered with fear and rage before he shoved past Izuku.

“Okay, okay,” Touya muttered, fumbling through his pockets before pulling out his phone. “Here!” He tossed it back to Izuku, who nearly collided with the wall trying to catch it. “Find Takami’s contact. Tell him what’s going on, okay?”

“Okay,” Izuku nodded quickly, already scrolling through the phone, but Touya was already charging toward the training room. The sounds of their argument echoed as Izuku stumbled behind him, desperately searching for Keigo’s contact.

But Touya’s contacts were all codenames—‘Flaming Trash,’ ‘Elsa Wannabe,’ ‘Brat Control,’ and others. Izuku couldn’t figure out which one belonged to Keigo. Why couldn’t Touya just use normal names?

With no time to waste, Izuku called out to Seri, hoping it would work.

“C—call Keigo Takami,” his voice cracked, but Seri responded quickly, sending a signal.

The phone vibrated twice, and a robotic voice said, “Calling Daddy.” Izuku froze, his heart racing. He hadn’t meant to call Endeavor . Panic set in as he tried to stop the call, muttering “ No, no, no ” under his breath, but it was too late. The call was picked up.

“Hey, crispers, what’s—”

Relief flooded Izuku’s chest as Keigo’s cheerful voice came through. He interrupted quickly, “Endeavor’s training Shouto!”

“Shit- Kid, calm down. It’s going to be okay,” Keigo’s tone immediately shifted to one of calm authority. “Hang up, okay? Touya and I are on it. Just go get Shouto. Stay out of the way, alright? We don’t want you getting hurt.”

“Okay…” Izuku mumbled, still in shock, as the call ended. His heart raced with indecision. But he couldn’t stay hidden with Shouto still in danger.

Carefully, he peeked around the corner. The sight before him made his stomach churn. Endeavor, tall and menacing, stood directly across from Touya, who was defending Shouto with his arms spread wide. Flames flickered between them—blue and orange—casting dark shadows. From his position, Izuku could see Shouto still on the ground, weakly crawling away from the confrontation.

Not wanting to draw attention to himself, Izuku pressed against the wall and crept toward Shouto, who met his eyes with a mix of fear and resignation. With urgency, Izuku slid his arm under Shouto’s, intent on pulling him out, but a pained whimper stopped him.

“I’m sorry,” Izuku whispered, adjusting to avoid hurting him further. “We need to get out of here.”

“No,” Shouto’s voice was steady but carried a painful resignation. “It’ll only make him angrier if we leave. It’s easier to just wait until he leaves…” His words were so defeated, and that hurt more than anything. It wasn’t just cruelty—it was something Shouto had come to expect. This wasn’t an isolated incident—it was routine.

Izuku couldn’t process that. The thought that Shouto had learned to endure such treatment crushed him. He’d been hurt before, sure—but never by a parent. He couldn’t fathom a parent— any parent—treating their child this way. He couldn’t imagine his own mother doing something so cruel, let alone his father.

There were obviously a lot of questions in Izuku’s mind, but now was not the time to ask. His friend's well-being—both physically and mentally—was far more important. The walk away from the training room was quiet, except for the occasional sniffle or grunt of pain from Shouto. Every time, Touya whispered something soothing against the top of Shouto's head, too quietly for Izuku to hear despite being so close behind them.

When they reached Fuyumi’s room, the door was wide open. Gone was the image of her hunched on the bed crying. Now, she seemed focused on creating some kind of nest with blankets and pillows scattered around her. She looked up when they entered, her eyes still red from crying, but she gave a soft smile, one that seemed to offer both comfort and a silent apology.

No words were exchanged as they gently placed Shouto on the bed, and Fuyumi began using her Quirk to ice his bruises and burns. Touya leaned against the doorframe, his posture tense, despite trying to seem casual. He was clearly prepared to act if needed. After a moment, Natsou entered, silently seething with anger in a way that reminded Izuku of how he got around their father. A half-eaten bag of marshmallows was clutched tightly in his hand, which he tossed onto the bed next to Shouto before flopping down into the nest with a huff.

Izuku stood there, unsure of what to do, glancing between the siblings for some kind of signal or direction. But no one looked his way.

He wanted to feel frustrated, to demand answers, to shout, but... he didn’t know what exactly he wanted. He did know, however, that none of this was about him—not in any meaningful way.

Fortunately, Touya broke the silence, clearly irritated by the avoidance of the issue. With a deep groan, he pushed himself off the wall and slid the door shut behind him. “Alright, let’s get this over with,” he muttered, his voice laced with annoyance. Poor Fuyumi’s bed was already crowded with Shouto and Natsou sprawled across it, but Touya wasted no time in shoving his brothers aside to make room for himself. Natsou mumbled a protest but was ignored.

Fuyumi rolled her eyes at the antics, clearly used to this dynamic. Izuku tilted his head in confusion, wondering how they could possibly all fit comfortably. “You could at least try to make room for us all,” she said, her tone affectionate as she lifted Shouto and carefully positioned him on top of herself when she lay down. “Or pick a bigger space. We’ve got an extra one now, and things are only going to get tighter.”

Touya waved her concern off with a lazy gesture. “Eh, where’s the fun in that?” he said. Fuyumi and Izuku both looked at him, but it was clear he wasn’t going to move. “Well?” Touya prompted, one eyebrow raised. “You gonna join, or just stand there?”

Hesitantly, Izuku climbed onto the bed, awkwardly positioning himself until he was lying across Touya’s chest. Shouto remained on top of Fuyumi, while Natsou had somehow ended up half under Touya and half on top of Shouto. As Izuku had suspected, it wasn’t exactly comfortable, but it felt safe. And he chose to keep his complaints about the pressure of Touya’s ribs against his back to himself.

Nesting was an ancient form of bonding typically practiced by Omega parents with their young children. To see it initiated by an Alpha and Beta was unusual, but despite the oddity, Izuku couldn’t deny the strange comfort of being tangled together with the Todoroki siblings.

Suddenly, Natsou shook a crinkled plastic bag in front of Izuku’s face. “Dad doesn’t let us have sweets, so I always sneak them in after visiting a friend,” he explained, popping a marshmallow into his mouth and chewing loudly. Fuyumi gently smacked the back of his head, but Natsou ignored her and instead held the bag out toward the others. The rest of them eagerly grabbed handfuls, despite knowing full well that the Midoriya household was already well stocked with sweet treats.

“Alright,” Natsou said through his mouthful, “so, Dad’s a piece of shit—”

“NATSOU!” Fuyumi’s yell was so sudden and loud it made everyone flinch, and it didn’t help that it was practically screamed into their ears.

“What? He is! And you said we should fill the kid in—”

“I meant gently!” she snapped. “And with age-appropriate language.”

“Oh, come on, Yumi,” Touya interjected, “they’ve heard worse.”

She scrunched her nose in disapproval. “Still…”

“We’re getting off-topic,” Shouto interrupted. He hadn’t said anything since leaving the training room, and he still refused to look anyone in the eye. Instead, he silently chewed on a marshmallow, staring up at the ceiling.

“Right,” Fuyumi sighed, gently running her fingers through Shouto’s hair. He leaned into her touch, which seemed to offer at least a little comfort. “Where to begin…” The two oldest siblings exchanged a glance, a silent understanding passing between them. Touya sighed and began to explain.

He spoke slowly at first, telling Izuku about how their mother had once been with another man before their father, someone who had truly made her happy. But then Enji had come along. Enji, a rising hero at the time, had seen Rei’s potential Quirk match with his own, and he wanted her—not out of love, but for her abilities. It made Izuku feel sick, but that was only the beginning.

Enji had challenged Rei’s former mate, defeated him easily, and wasted no time in claiming what he wanted. He hadn’t even waited a month before marking her. Their “wedding” was a disaster, with Rei sobbing for most of it, though Enji had ordered her to stop. Touya and Fuyumi were born shortly after, and Natsou came a couple of years later.

Despite everything, their mother had loved them deeply and done her best to keep them safe, but her efforts were limited—especially since she had no real power to defend them.

The moment their Quirks appeared, Enji had begun “training” them. But he quickly decided that Fuyumi and Natsou were too weak, leaving them largely ignored. It was Touya, though imperfect, who was trained first—until Shouto came along. Shouto, the perfect combination of their parents’ Quirks, the perfect product of a “Quirk marriage”—something Enji had always wanted, while Touya was considered a failure.

Their mother slowly lost her grip on reality. She became more unstable as time passed until one day, she snapped. Shouto had sought her out after a nightmare, only to find her in the kitchen, making tea while ranting on the phone to someone. No one would ever reveal what she had said, though.

Izuku couldn’t help but gasp as Touya described how their mother had poured boiling water onto Shouto’s face. His voice broke halfway through, and Fuyumi pulled Shouto close, wrapping him tightly in her arms. Izuku could see the pain in her eyes, and it was all he could do to hold back his tears.

“She didn’t mean it,” Shouto whispered, his voice barely audible before his brother could speak. “She was scared. She saw my left side and thought I was him…” He raised his left hand, attempting to shield the scar from view. “It wasn’t her fault. It was his. It’s all his fault…” His words faltered, as if unsure whether he was trying to convince himself or someone else. In that moment, he seemed so fragile that Izuku feared one wrong word might shatter him completely.

With the care only an eight-year-old could manage, Izuku gently pulled Shouto's left hand away from his face, offering a shaky smile. “It’s okay,” he whispered, but the words felt hollow even before they left his lips. What else could he say? “None of that was your fault.”

Shouto didn’t cry again, but he trembled, as if his body still mourned the tears. Without a word, he latched onto Natsou’s arm, seeking comfort from someone who could give it. The rest of the siblings instinctively curled around him, wrapping themselves around him like a protective barrier from the world outside. Unsure of what to do, Izuku quietly moved away, staying in the nest but allowing Shouto to be surrounded by his family before making his presence known.

The room fell silent, save for the occasional whispered word between the siblings. After what seemed like an eternity, Izuku finally broke the stillness. “Why—why would he do that? What could he gain from all this?” His voice cracked, and he immediately regretted asking the question, knowing it would stir painful memories.

For a moment, it seemed like the siblings might ignore his question, and Izuku wouldn't have blamed them. But just as he was about to redirect the conversation, Touya spoke. “When Endeavor was just starting out as a hero, he rose quickly through the ranks. He was one of the youngest to make it to the top ten. But he could never surpass number one—All Might.” The name sent a brief wave of excitement through Izuku, but it quickly soured as he remembered the context. “At first, things were fine—just friendly competition. But it didn’t stay that way for long. Not from our father’s side.”

“He became obsessed with being the best, with beating All Might. The longer he stayed number two, the angrier he got. Until one day, he realized he would never beat All Might. And so he decided, if he couldn’t surpass him, he’d make someone who could. That’s why we were born. We were all supposed to be perfect weapons to take down All Might. But only Shouto—only he had what our father considered good enough.”

Izuku felt his stomach twist. “That’s... that’s awful.” The words felt weak, but they were all he could manage as a surge of emotions overwhelmed him. “How could anyone—how could anyone do that to their own children?”

He flinched as a hand gripped his bicep, pulling him back to reality. He turned, trying to figure out who had touched him, but from the tangled mess of limbs and protective siblings, it was clear that Shouto had reached out for him. Despite being buried in his family's embrace, he had somehow found him.

“It’s alright,” Shouto’s soft voice floated to him. “We’re used to it by now.”

Izuku’s heart shattered at those words. “No, it isn’t,” he replied, not bothering to soften his tone. “None of this is alright, Shouto. None of it. Parents shouldn’t do this—heroes shouldn’t do this. You and your siblings don’t deserve any of this...” He understood now why they spent so much time in his cramped apartment. How they could ignore the creaky floorboards and walls marked with old crayon drawings? Anything was better than being in that house, anything was better than enduring that life.

Just then, the doorbell rang, and simultaneously, Touya’s phone buzzed. The siblings stiffened, and Izuku tensed as well, but as the seconds passed, they all seemed to come to the same conclusion—Endeavor wasn’t likely to be at his door. The pile shifted as Touya reached for his phone, only to remember that Izuku had it.

“Kid, pass me my phone,” he commanded. Izuku scrambled to reply.

“One second,” he mumbled, realizing that at some point during the walk to Fuyumi’s room, he’d dropped the phone. Please don’t be broken , he thought as he searched near the door. Thankfully, it wasn’t far, lying in front of Fuyumi’s door, still intact.

“Here,” he said, placing it in Touya’s outstretched hands.

“Stupid bird,” Touya muttered, examining the notification.

“What did Keigo do now?” Fuyumi asked.

“He’s at the door,” Touya said with a roll of his eyes, “and apparently he brought chicken, claiming it’s for ‘comforting Shouto.’” He made air quotes around the last part. “Guess we should let him in.” The doorbell rang again, louder this time.

The siblings groaned in unison, then began untangling themselves from one another, careful to be gentle with Shouto, still bruised but more stable than before. Once free, Touya stretched with a satisfying pop and shouted, “I’M COMING, YOU STUPID CHICKEN!” Izuku doubted anyone on the other side could hear him, but it felt necessary to yell anyway.

Fuyumi shook her head in exasperation. “Come on, you guys,” she said, gesturing toward the living room. “Let’s find a show to watch before Dad gets home.”

The boys followed, though Natsou was preoccupied with stuffing his face with marshmallows at an alarming rate. Izuku was beginning to wonder if Natsou even chewed before swallowing. Shouto walked quietly beside him, his expression deep in thought.

After a moment, Shouto reached out hesitantly and took Izuku’s hand, his grip tentative as though unsure if Izuku would pull away. “I’m sorry you had to see all... that,” he muttered. “I understand if you don’t want to come over anymore... or if you want to be someone else’s friend…”

Izuku gently bumped his shoulder against Shouto’s, offering a warm smile. “Hey,” he said softly, waiting for Shouto to meet his eyes. “We’re friends, right? Well, friends stick together.” ‘ Kacchan had no problem leaving you behind ’ his mind whispered,, but he pushed it aside. “So don’t worry about any of that, okay?”

They entered the living room, where Touya and Keigo were already bickering. Keigo, with a bucket of fried chicken in hand, greeted them with a cheerful “Heya, chickys!” he shook the bucket of chicken, “I gotcha some chicken!”

“Yeah, sure you did,” Touya shot back, entering the kitchen with a handful of napkins.

Keigo puffed up, indignant. “Excuse me! I was totally going to share anyway.”

Touya rolled his eyes, reaching for a piece of chicken, but Keigo quickly snatched it back. “Nuh-uh! Jerks don’t get chicken!”

“Petty much?” Touya quipped, reaching again, this time more forcefully.

“Really?” Fuyumi groaned, looking at the boys with a mix of frustration and amusement. “You’re going to make a mess!”

They ignored her, still bickering. “You don’t even like chicken!” Keigo said, holding the food behind him with a wing, trying not to topple off the couch.

“Yes, I do!” Touya argued, exasperated.

“Not as much as I do!”

Fuyumi buried her face in her hands. “I swear, I’m surrounded by five-year-olds…”

Keigo cried dramatically, “Save the chicken!” tossing the bucket toward the two eight-year-olds before continuing his squabble with Touya. In their scramble to catch the bucket, Izuku tried to pull back to avoid interfering, but Shouto had the same idea. The bucket hit the floor with a loud thud, spilling fried chicken everywhere.

“Oops,” Shouto said blankly, though his words were drowned out by Keigo’s theatrical cry of despair.

Shouto bent down, casually picking up a few pieces of chicken from the floor. “Guess it’s a good thing Dad has the maids clean the floors every day.”

Fuyumi snorted at Shouto’s nonchalance. “I suppose it is,” she said, while Touya muttered, “Huh, who knew the bastard could do something right?”

Natsou burst into the room a moment later, holding a bag of chips and the remote. “What’re we watching?” he asked, shoving both Touya and Keigo off the couch.

“HEY!” Keigo spluttered as Natsou crashed on top of him. “Do any of you Todorokis have manners?”

No one responded, too focused on the TV as Natsou began flipping through channels.

“Here,” Fuyumi extended her hand toward him, expectantly.

“No way!” Natsou said, clutching the remote behind his back. “I’m picking the show this time! You picked last time!”

Fuyumi tried to pull him off the couch, but Natsou fended her off. “What’s wrong with JoJo?” he protested, trying to keep the remote out of her reach. Their tug-of-war caused the buttons to change channels repeatedly.

The voices from the TV blended into a blur as the channels flicked rapidly until Touya decided to intervene, smacking the remote from their hands. It slid across the floor and skidded to the far side of the room. The siblings continued their bickering and wrestling, with Keigo occasionally reaching out to trip anyone he could from his spot on the floor. Even Shouto joined in, tossing napkins and the occasional pillow. Though they all knew Shouto’s injuries kept him out of the real chaos, he still managed to get in a few good hits when a pillow connected with someone’s face.

Izuku, however, was distracted. His attention kept flicking between the scuffle and the strange commercial now playing on the screen.

" Does your Omega suffer through painful heats? Do they get aggressive, unmanageable, and refuse to let you close during this important time? " Two actors appeared on screen, both nodding obnoxiously in exaggerated agreement. The scene then shifted to a dark blue background, and a tacky image of their product, Sootherz, appeared in the center. The words “ Sootherz ” were displayed in bright purple, with four exclamation points trailing behind it, looking as unappealing as a middle school PowerPoint presentation.

“ Our team here at Sootherz has worked tirelessly to develop an effective and affordable option to calm your Omega into a blissful state of submission during their heats, ” the voiceover droned. Whoever made the commercial needed to be fired immediately. The screen flashed with more ugly text, announcing a 20% discount with the words blinking obnoxiously. Then, just as Izuku was about to comment, the commercial was cut off as Shouto, bored of the fight, grabbed the remote and started flipping through channels.

“Well, we’ll need to pick a show soon if we want to see anything before father gets back,” Shouto’s calm voice cut through the bickering. His timing was perfect, especially when one of his pillows landed squarely in Touya’s face, prompting a temporary truce.

The group shared amused glances and exchanged playful gestures behind each other’s backs, but the mood had settled. They regrouped, retrieved the scattered food and napkins, and all crammed onto the couch. Keigo, ever the "brave soul," made the "courageous sacrifice" of sitting on Touya’s lap, stretching his legs across the other’s, much to their exasperation.

It was a brief but welcome moment of peace. After everything that had happened that day, it was nice to just sit together, watching a low-budget, overrated Hero movie that was trying to cash in on All Might’s name by making him a main character.

By the time Izuku left the Todoroki household, he was both emotionally and physically drained. At first, he didn’t want to leave at all, but Shouto had bluntly reminded him that staying wouldn’t prevent his father from attempting anything. It made sense, but it still hurt.

He promised Shouto that he and his siblings would come over soon, and made him promise that if anything ever happened and he needed an escape, Shouto should come straight to his apartment. Shouto agreed easily, and with a final, reluctant glance back, Izuku left for home to avoid keeping his mother waiting at the door.

__________

The days passed, and as spring began to warm the air, the end of Izuku's third-grade year finally arrived. School years in Japan run a little differently than elsewhere. The school year ends in March and starts again in April, with a summer break in July and a second term kicking off in early September.

Izuku had never been so excited for a new school year. School with Bakugou was nothing short of torture. The teachers let him get away with almost anything, and while Izuku got some leniency for being an Omega, that didn’t mean the other kids did. He couldn’t change that fact, even though he had a powerful quirk now—one that was often overshadowed by his secondary gender. He had also always felt isolated. The other Omegas rarely spoke to him, and with Bakugou constantly throwing tantrums, it was hard to make friends.

But this year felt different. With Shouto by his side for the majority of the school day, he wouldn’t be alone as much. And Shouto had mentioned that Momo, his only other friend, went to the same school, too. Izuku had to make a good impression. There was no way he could let Shouto’s other friend dislike him.

His stomach churned with a mix of anxiety and excitement as they approached the Todoroki household. Inko, his mother, swung their hands together gently in a comforting motion. They stopped at the gate, and she bent down to kiss Izuku’s forehead. "Alright, dear, have a good day, okay? Make lots of friends and stay out of trouble."

He nodded, murmuring a distracted “I will,” as his thoughts swirled with worries about the day ahead. His mother waved goodbye before hurrying back toward their apartment. She had a job interview to go to and had been nervous all morning, though she tried not to show it.

Izuku didn’t quite understand why she was looking for a job. They were already comfortable with the money his dad sent from America. Maybe she just needed something to do during the day while he was at school.

"Izuku!" His head snapped up at the sound of his name. Shouto was jogging toward him, with Natsou trailing behind, looking like he’d rather still be asleep.

“Shouchan!” Izuku greeted, waving his hand, pushing his worries aside for a moment. "Are you ready for school?"

Shouto nodded and adjusted his schoolbag. Natsou shuffled ahead, muttering slurred complaints. "Hurry up, ya slowpokes."

Izuku hesitated before asking, “Is he okay?” Natsou nearly crashed into a bench as he spoke.

“Yeah,” Shouto said, tugging Natsou down onto the bus stop bench. “He just has a hard time waking up in the morning. He won’t fully ‘wake up,’” he made air quotes, “until just before class starts.” Izuku smiled softly at the explanation.

Relieved that Natsou wasn’t sick, Izuku and Shouto sat down on either side of Natsou, boxing him in so he wouldn’t fall off the bench while they waited for the bus.

Unable to remain silent, Izuku asked, “So, what’s the school like?”

Shouto shrugged after thinking for a moment. “It’s cleaner than your old school,” he said, but that didn’t give Izuku much to go on. The only time Shouto had been allowed into Izuku’s old school had been the one day someone decided to start a food fight, which escalated quickly when Bakugou got involved.

Izuku quickly fired off more questions. “What about the teachers? The students? Are there other Omegas? Is Momo in your class? Are we in the same class, or are we separated by secondary genders? Can I eat lunch with you?”

Before he could finish, Natsou lunged forward with unexpected speed, clamping his hand over Izuku’s mouth. “I swear to god…” he whispered, glaring at Izuku. “If you don’t shut up, I’ll throw myself in front of the bus when it comes.”

Shouto rolled his eyes and smacked his brother’s arm. “Oh, shut up, Natsou, and go back to sleep.”

Natsou did just that, flopping back onto the bench with a muttered curse.

“Sorry,” Shouto said, though not sounding particularly apologetic. “He’s grumpy when he’s tired.”

Izuku smiled awkwardly. “I noticed. Are you sure he’s okay?”

Shouto shrugged again. "Eh, he's fine."

Shouto then motioned for Izuku to slow down with his questions. Izuku complied, repeating his inquiries more softly.

The bus arrived before he could get answers, and after they dragged Natsou to a seat, Shouto finally continued. “The teachers are okay, I guess. They do their jobs, but they give a lot of homework. And they're super biased.”

Izuku couldn’t hide his surprise. “How so?”

“Well,” Shouto said, glancing around, “they’re nicer to kids from influential families. Sometimes if a kid does poorly on an assignment, their parents just pay to change the grade.”

“That’s awful!” Izuku exclaimed, only to be met by Shouto’s nonchalant shrug.

“Well, what about the students? How are they?” Izuku pressed.

“Eh, the students are okay, but Momo is my only real friend. So, I don’t have much to go off of.”

“Why?” Izuku asked, curious.

“The other kids only want to be friends with me because of my dad,” Shouto explained. “The whole school is a popularity contest. It’s all about making connections with other rich families, because our parents told us to.”

Izuku nodded, understanding. He couldn’t help but notice that Shouto, though often blunt, didn’t seem to have the easiest time socially.

“What about classes?” Izuku asked. “Do you think we’ll have any together?”

“We might. They usually schedule mates together for lunch. And we’ll have homeroom together. But gym classes are separated by secondary genders.”

As the bus slowed to a stop, the brakes screeching loudly, Natsou finally fully woke up. The trio gathered their things and stepped off the bus, joining the other students heading toward the school.

Stretching, Natsou grinned at them both. “You two behave, Don't go getting into any trouble now.”

Izuku gave a confused look to Shouto, who only sighed, already looking ahead to the school gates.

The day would be filled with new things for Izuku, but somehow, with Shouto by his side, he felt like he might just survive it.

Chapter Text

When Izuku had first heard about moving schools to be closer to Shouto, he was ecstatic—at least, internally. He didn’t want to trouble his mom, after all. But his excitement had only grown the longer he spent time with his childhood friends. He wasn’t even sure if he could still call them that.

The idea of leaving his old school behind was almost irresistible. Despite Bakugou's mostly verbal aggression—which had only stopped once he'd been scolded by multiple teachers for trying to attack him with explosions—it wasn’t exactly a better situation. And if Izuku was being honest, his school wasn’t the worst thing he’d been through. If it came down to it, he could tough it out, hoping the bullying would eventually stop. But that didn’t mean he was eager to stick around any longer than he had to.

He was lucky, too, that the transfer had gone smoothly. It was doubtful the move would’ve been approved so easily if it wasn’t for the Todoroki family. Especially for a prestigious school like the one he was about to attend. Still, beneath his excitement, there was a lingering fear—one that seemed to follow him no matter where he went.

“Are you okay?” Shouto’s voice broke him from his thoughts. He was watching Izuku carefully while still keeping an eye on the corridor in front of them.

Izuku startled, having fallen so deep into his thoughts. “Oh! Yeah, I’m just... uh...” His gaze fell to the floor, but he caught sight of the wrinkled schedule in his hands. He’d been gripping it so hard it was nearly torn. “I’m just a little nervous…” he murmured, trying to smooth out the paper.

“Why?”

“Well, I know you said your school is a lot better than mine,” Izuku began. In the short time he’d known the Todoroki family, this was one of the few things Shouto and Endeavor agreed on. Although he was sure Endeavor’s take was more of a brag, while Shouto only said it to comfort him when his nerves took over. “But what if I’m really the problem and the other kids don’t like me here either?”

And what if your friend doesn’t like me? He didn’t dare ask that aloud.

A cold hand gently landed on his shoulder, and the awkward ‘there there’ pat made Izuku snort with laughter despite himself.

“Don’t worry. No one will be mean to you here.”

Izuku raised an eyebrow. “And how do you know that?”

“Well... you’re nice. No one would want to be mean to you.” Shouto paused for a moment, then added, “Plus, the other kids will probably be too afraid to mess with you. Endeavor’s a famous hero, after all. Honestly, you should be more worried about people trying to befriend you just to get closer to him.”

Izuku wasn’t sure that was exactly the kind of comfort he’d hoped for, but it was better than nothing.

Shouto quickly changed the subject, sensing his mistake. “What does your schedule look like?”

Grateful for the distraction, Izuku unfolded his crumpled sheet of paper. His classes were listed in order with the times and classrooms, as well as the teacher’s name. He read aloud, “‘Homeroom, Math, Science, Health O, Home Economics, Social Studies, P.E., Japanese, Crafts, Music,’ and ‘English.’”

After a quick glance at his own schedule, Shouto compared it with Izuku’s. “‘Homeroom, Math, Science, Social Studies, Music, Home Economics, Crafts, P.E., Japanese, Health A,’ and ‘English.’”

“Well, we’ve got Homeroom, Math, Science, and English together,” Shouto pointed out, scanning the papers. “You also have Home Economics and Music with Momo. So, you won’t be alone in those.”

“That’s... that’s good,” Izuku muttered, feeling the straps of his bag digging into his shoulders as he nervously pulled them tighter. He kept hoping Momo, another Alpha, would like him, or at least tolerate him enough to talk during class.

Shouto continued, not noticing Izuku’s anxiety, “She has Homeroom and Math with us too, so we can all have lunch together in Homeroom.”

Izuku nodded, his nerves rising again, but he didn’t say anything as they approached the classroom door. Shouto stopped in front of it, gesturing toward the propped-open entrance.

“We’re here,” he said. Izuku’s stomach churned with a mix of anticipation and anxiety.

He took a deep breath. “Let’s go.”

With that, Shouto stepped into the room, and Izuku followed just behind. As they entered, a few heads turned, and while they quickly returned to their conversations, Izuku couldn’t shake the feeling of being under scrutiny.

“Todoroki!” A cheerful voice rang out, and a girl with dark black hair in a high ponytail bounced toward them. “Oh my gosh, is this them?” Without warning, she grabbed Izuku’s arm, pulling him forward with surprising strength. “You look so sweet!” she exclaimed. “What’s your name? Or better yet, what’s your quirk?”

Izuku squirmed, unsure whether the compliment or the barrage of questions was more overwhelming. Before he could respond, Shouto stepped in.

“Momo,” he said in an almost bored tone, grabbing her shoulders. “Calm down.”

Momo’s eyes widened, and she blushed. “Right! Sorry! I just got so excited to meet Shouto’s Omega.” She immediately bowed. “I’m Yaoyorozu Momo. It’s nice to finally meet you.”

Izuku dipped into a bow as well, though his voice cracked a little. “I’m Midoriya Izuku.”

“Please, just call me Momo—or Yaomomo, if you prefer!” she said with a bright smile. “I know my name can be a bit of a mouthful.”

Before Izuku could respond, both Momo and Shouto were gently tugging him toward the back of the room.

“We should sit down,” Shouto said. “We’re in the way.”

Izuku flushed, realizing they were blocking the entrance. He quickly made his way toward an empty desk in front of Shouto, while Momo and Shouto took their places in the back row.

As they settled into their seats, Momo clasped her hands together and smiled. “It’s so good to meet you,” she said again. “Todoroki’s spoken so highly of you.”

Izuku swore he saw Shouto’s ears turn pink, but before Momo could continue, he shoved Izuku’s schedule into her hands to distract her. “Look,” he said, “you have classes together.”

Momo eagerly scanned the paper, her excitement palpable. “Homeroom, Math, Home Economics, and Music,” she listed off. “I’m so excited! I can introduce you to everyone and help you catch up in class if you’d like. I remember Todoroki said your old school wasn’t very good, so you might be a bit behind.”

Izuku could feel his anxiety creeping up again as Momo rambled, but before he could respond, the teacher called for everyone to come up and check the seating chart.

Izuku clutched the strap of his bag tightly, following Shouto and Momo toward the front. As he scanned the seating chart, relief washed over him when he saw his name listed right in front of Shouto. He shuffled toward the seat quickly, thankful to be near his friend.

The class buzzed with activity as the students settled in, and Izuku, now seated, tried to calm his nerves. Shouto gave him a quiet, encouraging look before turning to face the front. To his left, Momo sat with a straight posture, eyes gleaming with excitement.

Despite all the anxiety, Izuku felt a small spark of hope. Maybe this new beginning wouldn’t be so bad after all.

_______

Throughout the day, Izuku was continually amazed by how attentive the teachers were. He couldn’t remember the last time he had been so excited to learn, rather than having to figure everything out on his own. Even at the Facility, he had never experienced a teacher taking the time to sit down with him privately and help him catch up. The only private conversations he had ever had with teachers there were usually about his failures or being told to be more docile so he wouldn’t upset other students. It was a strange experience, but not an unwelcome one.

Even the students at this school were kinder, though most still spoke formally, their words lacked emotion, and their smiles were often plastic. As the day went on, Izuku felt the discomfort of everyone sizing him up with a single glance, as though evaluating his worth.

"Connections," Shouto had explained earlier, "It's normal at schools like this. They don’t rely on government funding but on donations from wealthy parents or alumni. They’re just trying to figure out if getting to know you is worth their time."

Izuku had nearly flinched at Shouto’s bluntness, but he understood that his friend didn’t mince words—he spoke plainly, without sugar-coating anything. While refreshing, it still stung to hear such unvarnished truth.

Oblivious to his internal struggle, Momo added, "Parents encourage their kids to befriend certain people or connect with teachers, hoping to use those connections later in life. That's actually how Shouto and I met." She smiled at him as they exchanged a glance, Momo’s expression warm, while Shouto maintained his usual mask of indifference. "A lot of people tried to be his friend in the beginning, but he was so closed off! I was really surprised when he let me sit with him at lunch."

Shouto nodded in agreement. "She was the only one who didn’t ask about my father or my Quirk. I figured being friends with her would stop people from asking, so I agreed to sit with her."

"And we've been friends ever since!" Momo beamed, her enthusiasm palpable. Izuku couldn’t help but smile at the warmth in her voice. It was clear that despite their differences, she and Shouto had formed a deep bond. He suspected Shouto hadn’t intended to make friends with Momo at first, but Izuku had heard too many stories about Momo before meeting her to believe he felt that way anymore.

Izuku hoped that, with time, he’d be able to make friends like that, too.

_______

“I’m home!”

Startled by the sudden sound of her son’s voice, Inko quickly set aside the paperwork on the counter and rushed into the hallway. "Welcome home!" she called, smiling brightly before wrapping him in a warm embrace. "How was your day? I want to hear all about it!"

“It was great!” Izuku cheered, and Inko’s heart swelled at the sight of his wide smile. It had been a long time since she’d seen him come home from school so full of happiness. "I made a lot of friends! There were a bunch of Omegas there too! I haven’t seen so many in one place since the facility! And Shouchan’s friend liked me, and—and we all ate lunch together, and—"

Inko listened intently as Izuku rambled on, excitedly recounting his new friendships and how the teachers were attentive, helping him catch up on lessons. But soon, his attention seemed to shift, his gaze falling on the pile of papers she had left on the counter.

“What are those?” he asked, cutting himself off mid-story.

Inko followed his line of sight, then quickly responded, “Oh, those. Um, here,” she gently guided him to the couch, sitting beside him. “We need to talk, okay? It’s nothing bad,” she added quickly, seeing his expression change to one of concern. "It might just be a bit hard for you to understand."

Izuku nodded, his face serious. Inko took a deep breath, her hands clasped tightly together as she tried to find the right words. There were so many ways this conversation could go wrong, and there was no manual for telling your child something like this. “Izuku, I want you to know that your father and I love you very much. Even though he isn’t always around, he cares about you more than anything.” She needed him to understand that no matter what, his parents’ love for him wasn’t in question.

Hisashi had participated in only a handful of the monthly calls to the facility, but each time, it had been because he genuinely cared. However, their physical distance had made it difficult for them to both call Izuku at the same time, so Hisashi knew that Izuku needed his mother more than him.

“But we’ve both grown apart over the years…” Inko paused, watching her son’s face carefully. “We still love each other," she quickly reassured him. "It’s just not the same as it used to be. It’s more like how you’d feel about a sibling or a best friend."

She hesitated for a moment before delivering the hardest part. "So, we’re going to be getting a divorce."

Izuku’s face scrunched, and for a moment, Inko couldn’t tell what he was feeling. His silence stretched on, making her heart ache. After what felt like forever, he finally asked, “Does this mean Dad’s not going to come over anymore?”

Inko felt a pang in her chest as she replied, “Of course not. Your dad will still come over as often as he can, and we’ll still visit him for vacations. The only difference is that you’ll probably visit him on your own more often, and we might both try to see other people.” She added the last part cautiously, unsure of how Izuku would take it, but she didn’t want him to be blindsided if either she or Hisashi decided to date again.

She watched as a flurry of emotions crossed his face, his expression shifting with each passing second. Finally, he nodded quietly, his voice soft. “...Okay.” Though he seemed to accept the news, Inko could tell he was still processing it all.

“Izuku,” she said gently, “your dad said he’d have time later tonight to video call, so you can ask him any questions then, okay?”

Izuku nodded, his face brightening just a little. “Actually, um—can I borrow your phone? I need to call Shouto for help on our homework. It’ll be quick! I promise!”

“Homework?” Inko raised an eyebrow, amused. "On the first day?" It seemed absurd, but then again, school was only getting more demanding at younger ages these days. She didn’t envy children these days. “Well, I’ll help you in a minute. I just need to clean up this mess first,” she said, gesturing to the scattered papers on the counter.

“No, it’s okay!” he quickly assured her, waving his hands in front of his face. “It’s just some catch-up work! Shouto’s school is doing more advanced stuff than my old school, so they just want to make sure I can keep up with everyone. Shouto should’ve finished it earlier, so he’ll already know all about it.”

“Well,” she said, pulling out her phone, “if you're sure. Just don’t take too long—I have a few calls to make too.”

“I will,” he promised, rushing off to his room and slamming the door behind him.

True to his word, the call only lasted about 20 minutes, and the phone was returned to her without incident. But it only took another 30 minutes before a knock at the door nearly shook it off its hinges.

“I’m coming!” she called sharply, already irritated at whoever was slamming into her door so late in the evening. “Hold your damn horses.” She yanked the door open, ready to unleash a scolding on whoever thought it was a good idea to make so much noise.

She had no idea who was at the door, but she certainly didn’t expect it to be the Todoroki siblings. Before she could even process it, the children rushed toward her, wrapping their arms around her waist and legs, nearly knocking her off balance.

“Wha—!” she cried out, but the words were drowned out by a stream of others.

“Are you okay?” she could make out Fuyumi’s voice, her face full of worry, and her eyes brimming with tears as she hugged the woman’s waist.

Natsou had attached himself to the arm she hadn’t used to open the door, bouncing between shouting, “Are you okay?” and “I’ll fight him myself.”

Then, there was Shouto, his small arms wrapped around her right leg, leaning heavily on her as he shouted, “Don’t be sad!” over and over in perhaps the loudest volume she’d ever heard from him.

“What is going on?” she finally asked, feeling overwhelmed and confused by the sudden onslaught. She could hear footsteps behind her as her son joined the chaos but ignored it for the time being. Her gaze shifted to Touya, the only one not clinging to her, instead glaring at the ground like it had personally offended him.

Noticing her attention, Touya lifted his gaze and motioned toward the inside of the house, presumably toward her son. “Shrub over there called us,” he said flatly, as though that explained everything. And, in a way, it did.

“Izuku?” she asked, turning to look at him as best she could. “Why are they all here? Not that I’m not happy to see you all,” she assured the children, then turned back to her son, “but I’d like a little more notice before you invite people over.”

Izuku shuffled uncomfortably, looking both embarrassed and awkward. “I, um... I called Shouto because I—I wanted to know what happens in a divorce. But—but he didn’t know either, so he asked Fuyumi, and Fuyumi is really smart!” he exclaimed, his words stammering as he pieced together the story. “She said divorces aren’t good, there’s a lot of fighting and yelling. And you looked sad, so they came to help!”

Sighing, she shifted her attention back to the cluster of children at her feet. “Alright, everyone inside,” she said softly, detaching Natsou and Shouto from her limbs so she could move without dragging them along. “Come on, let’s sit down and talk this through.”

The kids followed without hesitation, with Touya locking the door behind them. Once they were all settled in the living room, she took a deep breath and began to ease their concerns. As it turned out, most of Fuyumi’s knowledge about divorce came from TV dramas, and she was surprised to learn that not all divorces involved bitter exes fighting over everything they could

Thankfully, it didn’t take long for Fuyumi and the older two to be reassured, which helped calm the younger kids as well. With everything that could be shared with children out in the open, she gave them a moment to process the information.

After a brief silence, Fuyumi asked, “Well, okay, if you’re sure everything is fine... But are you sure you’re okay? Like, emotionally?”

“I’m fine, dear, don’t worry,” she replied, patting Fuyumi’s cheek affectionately. “It’s not that big a deal. It’s a mutual divorce.”

“But why would anyone want to leave you?” Natsou asked seriously. He had never heard of a divorce that wasn’t a brutal affair. It was one of the reasons they all assumed his own mother never left their father—though if she had, it certainly wouldn’t have been mutual.

She laughed softly, almost to the point of tears. “We’ve just grown apart as people. It happens sometimes. We still love and care for each other, but it’s more as friends now,” she explained, carefully straightening some papers on the counter. “And that’s okay. It’s sad, of course, but these things happen, especially when there’s distance. But he’ll still be helping with bills, and he’s coming back this summer to see Izuku. So, all things considered, there’s nothing to be sad about.”

“So we don’t have to fight him?” Natsou stage-whispered to Touya, who playfully shoved his face away, muttering, “I guess not.” Inko and Fuyumi both laughed, which helped ease the last bit of tension.

The Todorokis didn’t stay long; it was a school night, and both Endeavor and Inko agreed that kids needed a good night’s sleep to focus. However, only about an hour after they left, Inko’s phone rang, the annoying quacking duck noise signaling the call from the flame hero.

“Good evening, Enji,” she replied curtly. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

There was an annoyed sigh from the other end, but no mention of the sarcasm in her tone. “I’ve heard about your divorce,” he said plainly.

Inko wasn’t surprised; one of the kids must’ve told him. A small part of her wanted to feel betrayed, but she hadn’t kept it a secret, so she wasn’t sure where the feeling had come from.

“Yes, I received the papers from my husband this morning,” she replied.

“I’m assuming there hasn’t been any talk of custody yet?” he continued. She grimaced at the reminder. It had been her main concern since receiving the papers.

In most cases where families separate due to work, the child stays with the parent who has been the primary caregiver. But Inko couldn’t support Izuku on her own. She’d had a job interview that morning but hadn’t heard back yet.

Hisashi loved his son, but they weren’t close enough for Izuku to want to move in with him. While the divorce was amicable, the courts would likely base their decision on her financial situation.

He must have sensed her discomfort, as he pressed on, “I’ve got a lawyer ready to help with the custody agreement. I’ll pass his number on to you so you can review your options.”

“Oh—thank you! But, I can’t pay you back or anything. Hisashi and I were just planning to divide everything as fairly as possible,” she added. This likely meant Izuku would be spending holidays in America, but it was better than losing custody or dealing with a 50/50 split.

“Don’t worry about paying me back. Just keep that boy in Japan. That’s all. Have a pleasant evening,” he replied, and the line went dead.

“What a charming man,” she muttered sarcastically, before turning back to her previous task.

___________

The cafeteria buzzed with the usual hustle and bustle, students of all ages and genders walking around, chatting with each other. Izuku had only been at this school for two weeks, but he'd already memorized where his usual lunch table was. “Hey, guys!” he called, speed-walking toward his group. Three heads swiveled his way, along with a few others who quickly turned back when they realized they weren’t the ones being addressed.

This would be the first time Yaoyorozu and Shouto would join him for lunch since the first week of school. It wasn’t that they were avoiding him, but after the second day, Izuku had started forming his own friend group, something Shouto and Momo had encouraged. They wanted him to fit in on his own, without relying on either Alpha, especially considering how influential their parents were. Now that Izuku had started settling into his new group, they had agreed to join him for lunch.

A familiar wave of anxiety stirred in his stomach, but he pushed it down, trying not to imagine all the ways things could go wrong, as he often did. But given how... unique his new friends were compared to Shouto and Momo’s polished manners, he had every reason to worry.

“Midoriya!” Ringelstein called, her hand waving wildly in the air as if signaling for help finding the table. Ringelstein had shoulder-length brown hair, with bleach-blond bangs that framed her face. Her smile was sharp, and her dark gray eyes held a mischievous gleam. Her brown locks were tied into stubby pigtails, leaving her bangs free. Her skin was pale, but an unnatural pink hue bubbled with blisters on her left forearm.

“Come on, you slow fucks!” Endellion shouted over the cafeteria noise, uncaring about her volume. Her appearance was the most striking in the group, with fiery red, orange, and gold hair that cascaded past her waist and glowing green eyes. Her skin was smooth and flawless, with a glossy sheen. Earlier that week, she’d been startled so badly in class that her hair had ignited, and Persephone had been unfortunate enough to sit too close to the fire, resulting in the burn on her forearm.

Meanwhile, Durand, a shy girl with long brown hair that nearly covered her entire face, seemed to wish the ground would swallow her whole to escape the loudmouths on either side of her. Her soft brown eyes had a golden ring around the pupils, and her teeth were sharp, giving her a menacing look—though that only worked in theory, as her hunched posture and nearly hidden face made her seem more timid than intimidating.

Shouto and Yaoyorozu exchanged a glance, a silent conversation passing between them as Izuku grabbed both their wrists and led them to the table. They were quickly settled into available seats—Momo next to Endellion, Shouto beside her. Izuku plopped down happily next to Shouto, with Ringelstein on his right and Durand between the two girls.

“Alright!” Izuku began excitedly, though his stomach still churned with lingering anxiety. “Guys, this is Yaoyorozu Momo and Todoroki Shouto,” he said, gesturing toward them in turn.

Durand gave a shy wave, while the other two were already eating. Without waiting to swallow, Ringelstein mumbled a quick “sup” before swallowing and adding, “I’m Ringelstein Persephone, but you can just call me Persephone. Or Persie, actually. I prefer Persie.”

Momo seemed scandalized by the informality, though she had requested the same of Izuku earlier that month. Persephone jabbed a thumb toward the hunched girl beside her. “This is Mallory,” she said, but as soon as she said the name, she was nudged by Mallory’s elbow. “Ow, okay, sorry. This is Durand Mallory, but you can just call her Mallory too. There, better?” Persephone continued, “She doesn’t talk much around new people. Midoriya only heard her speak once last week when she tripped over him during gym.”

“I’m still upset I didn’t have a camera,” Endellion added dramatically, throwing her arms up. “It was hilarious. I’ve never seen anyone trip over air quite like Midoriya! Then like five other people tripped over him before he could even get back up!”

Izuku and Mallory both flushed with embarrassment, but the others laughed at the memory. Even Shouto and Momo seemed amused by the story.

“You didn’t tell me that,” Todoroki said, though his blank expression couldn't hide the mirth in his eyes.

Izuku immediately hid his face in his palms. “I planned to take it to my grave,” he muttered, making both Endellion and Persephone burst into uncontrollable laughter.

“Well, I’m never letting you forget it!” Endellion promised once she regained her composure. “Alright, alright. I guess it’s my turn. I’m Endellion Aalya. But you can just call me Aalya.”

“Endellion?” Shouto asked, furrowing his brow. “I recognize that name.”

“Hm,” Aalya considered, then her eyes lit up. “I think my mom works with your dad. That might be why.”

“Your mom’s a hero?” Yaoyorozu asked, organizing her lunch neatly.

“No,” Aalya said with a shrug. “She works in a hero’s office though. I think she’s an agent or something. PJ, I think?”

“A PR agent?” Shouto offered, and Aalya snapped her fingers.

“Yeah, that’s it! She makes sure heroes like Endeavor don’t get in trouble when they do something dumb.”

A look of distaste crossed Todoroki’s face, one that might have confused Izuku before, but now he understood. He tried to keep a similar expression from showing, though it was hard. The rest of the table, however, remained oblivious, as Momo carried on with the conversation.

“If I may ask,” Momo began, folding her hands and looking perplexed, “why do you all prefer such informal addresses from practically strangers?”

Persephone spoke first. “My dad’s German, my mom’s Hellenes, and though I was born in Japan, we visit family a lot. So I’m used to being called by my first name.” She glanced at Mallory, then decided to explain for her. “Mallory’s dad was French, her mom Japanese. She lived in France until her dad passed away, and her mom moved back here.”

All eyes turned to Mallory, but her expression remained calm, as usual, despite the mention of her father. She showed no signs of distress.

Aalya spoke up next. “My mom’s Japanese too, but my dad’s from America. We lived there until last year when my parents divorced.”

Izuku blurted out, “My parents are getting a divorce too,” before he could stop himself. It wasn’t something he liked talking about, but he felt a strange sense of relief knowing he wasn’t the only one going through it.

“Did your dad sleep with a whore too?”

The table went silent in shock. Only Mallory looked confused by their reactions. Shouto and Aalya remained unfazed, though Aalya seemed to enjoy the shock she caused, while Todoroki let the others express their discomfort.

“You can’t say things like that!” Yaoyorozu exclaimed, her face red as she covered her cheeks.

“Why not? That’s what my mom says! I overheard her yelling about it on the phone once!”

Izuku sputtered, “You—you just can’t say things like that! It’s a bad word.” He realized, though, that it wasn’t much worse than hearing the same word from Bakugou just a few months ago. “It’s not nice to call someone that!” Though, it wasn’t exactly nice to sleep with someone else’s husband either.

It took a few minutes for everyone to calm down. By the time they did, Aalya had firmly established that her mouth was worse than Bakugou’s. Todoroki, with his usual deadpan expression, was quick to point that out, though only Izuku seemed to fully understand the reference.

“So,” Momo asked, finally regaining her composure, “what classes do you all have together? I’m assuming that’s how you met.”

“I don’t have any classes with Midoriya,” Aalya said, taking a long sip of her drink. “I just ate lunch with Persie and Mallory, so I met them when they dragged him along.”

“Mallory and I have Health and Japanese together,” Izuku answered easily. “She introduced me to Persie after class one day. They’re mates.” Persephone gave a half-nod as he gestured toward her.

Todoroki, already halfway through his meal, set his food aside. “So you two are mates? You must have met around the same time Izuku and I did.”

“We’re childhood friends,” Persephone said, throwing an arm around Mallory’s shoulders. The girl flinched slightly but relaxed as Persephone pinched her fingers together to indicate their size back when they were kids. “She’s never been to a facility.”

“Wha—? How?” Yaoyorozu asked, jaw slack. “All Omegas have to go to a facility, right?”

“Not all,” Persephone replied with a frown, shaking the empty chip bag. “There are exceptions.”

“Like what?” Izuku asked, feeling a strange knot in his stomach. It seemed unfair that he and other Omegas had been forced to leave but Mallory had somehow avoided that fate.

"Her Quirk is considered extremely dangerous," A barely perceptible shift in Mallory’s posture occurred, as she seemed to curl further into herself. However, it went largely unnoticed by the rest of the group, all of whom were focused on Persephone. "And because of the nature of her Quirk, she was allowed to come home once a week. But eventually that become too much of a hassle so they just let her stay at home but she was required to take the same courses that all Omegas get in the facilities anyways."

“What’s her Quirk?” Izuku couldn’t help but ask.

Persephone looked as though she was about to answer, but before a single word could leave her mouth, Mallory moved. With more energy than anyone had ever seen from her, Mallory shot up from her hunched position. Her eyes were wild with a mixture of fear and desperation as she grabbed Persephone’s shirt with one hand, tugging her forward, while her other hand pressed firmly over Persephone’s mouth.

“Don’t.” Her voice was tight, though it was unclear if the tension came from the situation or if this was how she always sounded. It was only one word, spoken just above a whisper, but it was clear to everyone at the table, despite the noise from the bustling crowd of classmates around them.

No one knew how to react. Aalya was the first to break the silence, her eyes lighting up with understanding as her face softened. “Mal, it’s okay,” she said gently, her hands softly prying Mallory’s fingers off of Persephone’s wrist. “It’s alright, she wasn’t going to say anything.”

“Yeah, Mal,” Persephone added reassuringly, “I wasn’t gonna say anything. You know I wouldn’t do that.”

The two girls continued to calm their friend down, gently guiding her back into her seat. Mallory’s voice was small and meek as she muttered an apology, “Sorry.”

Yaoyorozu, Todoroki, and Izuku exchanged worried glances, unsure whether to ask what had just happened or leave the girls to sort it out. Before they could decide, the bell rang, signaling the end of lunch. Momo stood first, still confused by the situation but unwilling to let it affect her attendance. "We should get going," she said.

"Right," Aalya replied, scooping up the last of her lunch and tossing it in the trash. "Guess we’ll see you around," she waved casually, as if the earlier scene hadn’t happened, before looping her arm through Mallory’s and pulling her up. Persephone followed, flashing a small smile. “Later, Midoriya,” she called over her shoulder, before trailing after the two.

None of them spoke as they made their way to their next classes, still unsettled by what had just transpired. As the two Alpha students split off toward their own classes, Shouto suddenly spoke. "Your friends are weird," he said bluntly. "And loud."

Izuku chuckled awkwardly. “Yeah, I guess they are,” he admitted, rubbing the back of his neck in embarrassment.

"But, I’m glad you’re making friends," Shouto continued, nodding in approval.

Momo added, “They’re certainly strange, but they seem like good people. For the most part." Her face scrunched as she thought about Mallory. "Though I’m a little worried about that Mallory girl."

Suddenly, Momo stiffened, her back straightening as though jolted by a shock. "We’re going to be late," she squeaked, turning to speed-walk down the hall without even saying goodbye. Shouto watched her go for a moment before deciding to follow. With a calm wave, he weaved through the crowd of students to catch up with his friend.

Izuku let out a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. His new friends were weird and a bit chaotic, but they had accepted him without hesitation. Unlike everyone else, they hadn’t asked him about Endeavor, his Quirk, or Shouto right away. He had a feeling that nothing could be said to make him want to stop being friends with them, but it was still nice to know that his best friend—and their other friend—approved of them.

___________

A television screen flickered to life, the words "Breaking News" in large bold print scrolled across a red banner at the bottom of the screen. Inside the news station, two well-dressed reporters sat in front of the camera, their faces grim as they prepared to deliver the latest story. The man, with slicked-back moss-green hair, exuded an air of professionalism, while the woman beside him, with light fuchsia skin, looked just as serious. Both sat with their hands folded neatly in front of them, ready for what was to come.

The man spoke first, his voice steady but filled with gravity. "Tonight we have some devastating news. It’s just come in that two boys, a Beta and a Quirkless Omega, have been taken in the night with no clues leading to their whereabouts—or their kidnappers."

The woman took over, her gaze locked on the camera, her expression intense. "The youngest, Hoga Tsutomu, a Quirkless male Omega, was taken directly from his hospital room in the middle of the night. Tsutomu had been admitted earlier that week after an incident in an alleyway near his Alpha's home. A group of Betas had gotten too rough with him, resulting in broken legs, a sprained wrist, and a fractured rib." Her voice wavered as she listed the injuries, the weight of the news pressing down on her.

The man grimaced, his motion too practiced, as if he had delivered such news countless times before. "With injuries like that, it’s clear he wasn’t going to be walking out of there on his own anytime soon."

The woman nodded, her eyes narrowing. "That’s what everyone seems to agree on, but this only raises more questions. The hallway security footage shows no sign of entry through the door. It’s suspect that whoever took him removed him through the window next to his bed. There were no signs of a struggle, no indication that he fought back at all."

"It’s not too surprising considering the boy’s condition," the man chimed in. "Not only was he injured, but he was Quirkless. It’s unlikely there was anything he could do to defend himself. He probably just accepted his fate."

Tears glistened in the woman’s eyes as she spoke again, her voice breaking slightly. "It’s unbelievable that someone would kidnap a defenseless Omega like that. The poor thing didn’t even have a Quirk to protect himself. Who could do something like that?"

"I know, Nakajima," the man replied softly, his tone comforting before switching back to seriousness. "And I’m afraid it gets worse." He paused for a moment before continuing, "As the family was notified of their son’s disappearance that morning, they rushed to wake up his older brother, Hoga Aki, a male Beta. But when they entered his room, they found it in disarray, and there was no sign of the boy."

With a deep breath, Nakajima regained control, her expression now steely. "The police have confirmed that the window latch was broken, and there were signs of a struggle. His sheets had been slashed as if someone had used a knife on them, and blood was found splattered on the floor next to the bed, as if someone had been thrown down. It's clear the culprit escaped through the window with the boy. But once again, no clues have surfaced that could lead to either of them."

The man leaned in slightly, his voice a little softer now. "Have there been any leads?"

Nakajima shook her head. "None so far. Initially, it was suspected that this might be linked to a trafficking ring, but that theory was dismissed when the youngest boy’s lack of Quirk came to light. As the Quirkless are undesirable for the purposes of enhancing future children’s Quirks, which is often the goal of these rings."

The screen filled with static for a brief moment, distorting the man’s next words, but his sentence was still barely audible, "It’s remarkable the boy was able to find such a loving mate in the first place."

The screen flickered once more, clearing up just as quickly as it had fuzzed. "If anyone has any information about the whereabouts of either boy, please use the number below to contact the police working on the case. Thank you."

"And now for—" The screen switched off abruptly.

___________

The first term of school flew by, and before long, summer break had arrived. School ended at the end of July, and while Izuku had enjoyed making new friends and attending his new school, he was ecstatic about spending the summer with his mom for the first time in years. With the second term starting in early September, he had four whole months of freedom ahead of him.

For the most part, anyway. Endeavor had decided to ramp up training sessions for Shouto due to the newfound free time, and, in turn, he began pushing Izuku harder to take his training seriously if he ever wanted to become a sidekick for his "masterpiece." It was annoying, but Izuku understood where the man was coming from. So far, the only training he had done was messing around with his Quirk with his friends, with the occasional help from Shouto, who would teach him some moves he'd learned from his father.

As much as he hated to admit it, Izuku knew he’d need to step up his game if he wanted to be a hero. But where to start?

Humming to himself, he shuffled over to his computer and opened the search bar. He stared at the blinking cursor for a moment, trying to decide what to search for first.

"What do you need to know to be a hero?"

Immediately, his screen filled with titles like "6 Ways to Be an Everyday Hero" and "Everyone Can Be a Hero! Here's How." He scrolled halfway down before deciding to refine his search.

"What martial arts are best for hero work?"

This time, he got much better results. He clicked on the first link, which led him to an article titled "Different Types of Martial Arts, and Which is Best for You." The page listed various martial arts styles, including Karate, Jujitsu, Kung Fu, and several others Izuku had never heard of before.

He read through the page several times, then grabbed a notebook from his shelf. This wasn’t a decision he could make lightly—he needed to choose a style that would work best with his Quirk and whatever kind of hero he wanted to be.

“What kind of hero do I want to be?” he muttered aloud. “A hero that smiles,” he wrote on the first blank page he found, “and makes everyone feel safe just by being there. Like All Might.” He stared at the words, hoping they would give him some kind of clue, but all he received was silence as his scrawl mocked him from the page.

"But I can't be like All Might," he whispered, the words stinging his chest. He wasn’t All Might—he didn’t have a Quirk like his, and he wasn’t as strong. So, he couldn’t be a hero like him. But if he couldn’t be like All Might, who could he be like?

Frowning, he pushed the notebook aside and opened a new tab, saving the previous one for later. He entered "What type of hero can I be?" A bullet point list appeared, along with a link underneath it.

"Spotlight: Heroes that fight..."

"Support: Heroes that assist..."

"Rescue: Heroes that save..."

"Intelligence: Heroes that gather..."

"Underground: Heroes that stay away..."

Izuku quickly clicked the link, and the page took forever to load. When it finally did, his gaze bounced around the screen, trying to absorb all the information. He dragged his notebook closer and began jotting down everything he could find.

"So, All Might and Endeavor are Spotlight heroes," he muttered aloud, tapping his pencil eraser against his lips as he thought. "Heroes like Number 13 are Rescue heroes. Underground heroes are mostly anonymous, but there’s Crawler, a vigilante turned Underground hero. And Nighteye—wait, wasn’t Nighteye listed as an Intelligence hero?” He quickly scrolled up to double-check.

Sure enough, Nighteye was listed in not one, but three categories: Support, Intelligence, and Underground.

“How can he be an Underground hero if he’s so well known?” Izuku wondered aloud. “Unless... maybe he just works with underground heroes? Is that who he gathers information from?" His mind spiraled as he tried to figure out how someone could fit into multiple categories. But it made sense, he supposed—some Quirks were versatile and could be used in many situations.

"What kind of hero would I be?" he wondered aloud, glancing between his notebook and the glowing screen. “Endeavor wants me to be a Support hero for Shouto, but I want to be a Spotlight hero, too. If for no other reason than I want the world to see that an Omega like me can be a hero.” His Quirk could be useful for Rescue work—freezing time, saving people from burning buildings, or getting them to the hospital before injuries got worse. But then again, he doubted his mom would let him test out any of those ideas.

"What kind of hero would that make me?" he groaned, his head falling onto his desk.

"Izuku?" his mother’s voice came through the door, and the sound of it was enough to make him lift his head. "It’s almost time for lunch."

“I’ll be there in a sec, Mom,” he mumbled, his voice muffled by the desk.

“Everything okay?” Her voice drew closer, and he felt her hand brush aside his stray curls to look at his face. As she saw the screen, her expression shifted.

“Yeah,” he sighed, leaning back in his chair. "I'm just trying to decide what kind of hero I should be, but it’s harder than I thought." He clicked away the page about different hero types, hoping his mom might know what to do, since she always seemed to have the answers.

When he looked up at her, he saw surprise in her eyes, followed by a look of confusion. “Why are you trying to figure all this out right now? You’re still young. You have plenty of time to decide.”

His voice pitched up in frustration. "But Endeavor said I need to start training soon if I want to be a hero with Shouto!" He could see her expression shift, becoming more stern, but he barreled ahead. "And he’s right! Shouto’s been training for years—so I’m already behind! And... and..." His voice cracked, and before he knew it, he was sniffling. It embarrassed him to get worked up like this, but the pressure was building as he fell further behind his friend. At least Shouto never teased him about it like Bakugou would.

“Well...” His mom trailed off, her tone uncertain. They sat in silence for a moment, the only sound coming from Izuku as he fought to calm himself. “I still think it’s too early for you to be worrying about all this. You’re only eight.”

“Mom! I’ll be nine soon! I’m old enough to know what I want!” He interrupted, but she continued as if she hadn’t heard him.

“Well, we could look into some after-school activities. It’d be good for you to learn some self-defense, even if you change your mind about being a hero later."

“Really?” Izuku squeaked, a bright smile lighting up his face.

Inko smiled down at him and nodded. "Yes, really." She made a shooing gesture with her hands, and he eagerly complied, nearly falling out of his chair in his haste. She sat down and began opening a new tab on the computer, and the two of them started searching for activities in their area.

They didn’t have many requirements, but the few they did made it tricky to agree on something. Izuku wanted something that would help him with hero work, while Inko didn’t want it to be too expensive. The real challenge, though, was an unspoken rule—they didn’t want to pick anything too dangerous. Izuku had tried multiple times to convince her to let him take Hapkido or Jujutsu classes, but despite her earlier comment, she was firm on keeping him away from those options.

“When you’re older, I’ll let you sign up,” she would say.

“Well, how old is ‘older’?” Izuku would protest.

She hummed thoughtfully, eyes scanning the screen. “Hmm... when you’re ten,” she decided.

“Ten?!” Izuku groaned, frustrated. “That’s forever away!”

“Oh hush,” she flicked his forehead playfully. “It’s only a year away. You’ll be nine soon, and a year will pass before you know it.”

“Fine,” he grumbled, though he wasn’t happy about it.

Eventually, they agreed on gymnastics. It wasn’t perfect, but Inko promised it would make fighting easier, and it was a relatively safe sport—at least she’d have some peace of mind.

_________

The trip to the Todoroki household seemed to pass in an instant. The cool morning air did little to calm Izuku’s scrambled thoughts as he arrived, his feet instinctively dragging him toward the door. He pulled out his copy of the house key, pushed the door open, and gently kicked off his shoes. Stepping inside, he was met with an unsettling silence. While Endeavor was known for preferring quiet, his children were another story. Given that it was a weekday, and Endeavor should already be out on patrol, Izuku expected some sort of noise to greet him.

“Hello?” Izuku called out as his feet softly padded against the tatami floors, but there was no response. His head poked into the kitchen, but it too was empty and spotless—no dishes, no signs of breakfast in the making. Normally, Fuyumi would be in there, rushing to get breakfast ready for her brothers before scrambling to catch the bus to school. It was rare for everyone to be quiet, especially on a weekday morning.

This wouldn't be the first time Natsou or Shouto had accidentally overslept, but it was odd that both of them were still asleep. Even stranger, Fuyumi wasn't there to wake them. “Shouchan! Natsou!” he called again, his voice louder this time, echoing down the empty hall as he stomped toward their rooms. “We’re going to be late for school!” With no response, his frustration mounted. “I swear, if we get in trouble because you two decided to sleep in, I’m telling both Mom and Endeavor it’s your fault.”

Izuku huffed in annoyance, nearly slamming his head against the nearest wall. Feeling the frustration rising, he stomped his foot against Shouto’s door. “Get up, Shouchan!” he shouted, swinging it open with a slam. But the room was empty. The futon was neatly spread out in its usual spot, meaning Shouto was already up. Confusion quickly replaced his frustration. He walked hesitantly to Natsou’s room and gently opened the door, but it too was empty.

“Where are they?” Izuku muttered, his frustration now mingling with confusion. He stepped back into the hallway and left the doors open. “Hello!” he called again, his voice echoing through the quiet house. “Where did everyone go?”

Instead of the silence he had been expecting, there was a heavy thud followed by laughter coming from somewhere in the house. The sounds were too distant for Izuku to tell who they belonged to. Hesitantly, he began making his way toward the noise. At first, he only heard the sound of something being thrown into the grass, followed by muffled curses. But as he got closer, broken words began to filter through the walls.

“Stupid chicken,” a rough voice said from the yard. “You’re going to get your wings clipped if you keep fighting like that.”

A second voice, light and teasing, replied, “Well, someone’s grumpy today. Did ya wake up on the wrong side this morning, dear?”

Izuku carefully opened the backyard door, trying to be as quiet as possible. His breath caught at the sight before him.

Endeavor’s garden was beautiful. Neat stone paths wove through a spacious yard, and a small pond with koi gently rippled beneath a miniature waterfall. Bright maple trees lined the outer edges, leaving the center open. The yard was surrounded by a thick stone wall that rose just below seven feet, a sight more grand than anything he or his mother could ever afford. However, it wasn’t the garden that made him gasp—it was the sight of the two figures in the yard.

Touya and Keigo were fighting, an unusual sight since Endeavor was strict about where training could take place. Neither of them appeared to be strangers, but seeing them spar in the yard was a surprise. Touya’s arm blazed with blue fire as he waved the fiery appendage threateningly at Keigo. “Come on, Keigo! I thought you liked fried chicken!”

“First of all,” Keigo retorted, dodging a flame that passed dangerously close, “I have a hawk Quirk, not a chicken Quirk! And second—” He rolled to the left as another streak of fire flew past him. “You said no Quirks!”

The pile of feathers near the door twitched as if ready to take off. The flames from Touya’s arm dimmed, but whether it was from Keigo’s complaints or Touya’s lack of resistance was anyone’s guess.

The fight escalated quickly. With speed that Izuku had never seen from him before, Keigo launched himself at Touya, aiming a punch for his head. Touya dodged easily, ducking under the punch and grabbing Keigo’s elbow. He aimed a sharp jab to Keigo’s ribs.

Keigo staggered but quickly regained his balance. He grabbed hold of the hand pressed against his stomach, twisting and swinging his leg to knock Touya off balance. With a grunt, Touya was sent tumbling but rolled seamlessly, grabbing Keigo’s ankle as he went down. In an instant, they were both on the ground, their fight turning from skilled technique to full-out grappling.

“Ow, you roasted raisin, did you just scratch my throat?!” Keigo complained, wincing.

“You looked like you had an itch,” Touya shot back, only to receive an elbow to the face. “Oh, you little—”

Every blow was met with a grin or a smirk. The playful taunting continued, but the fight had become increasingly brutal. It wasn’t until Keigo’s back hit the ground with a solid thud that he let out a genuine cry of pain. In an instant, Touya’s playful expression vanished, replaced by concern. “Shit—shit, I’m sorry! Are you okay?”

“Are you okay?” Izuku echoed, his feet already moving toward them without thinking.

Both of them startled, Touya’s flames flaring up defensively as he stepped in front of Keigo. Keigo instinctively flared his own wings, his feathers rustling.

“Sorry!” Izuku stammered, raising his hands in a surrendering gesture. “I didn’t mean to spook you guys! I just—well, I got here and no one was—then I saw you two—”

“Midoriya?” Touya’s flames died down as he recognized Izuku. “What are you doing here?”

“I… I came to get Shouto and Natsou for school, but they weren’t here and then…” Izuku’s voice trailed off as he felt his embarrassment rising. He had probably missed his chance to get to school now too. “I… I came for school, but…”

“School?” Touya interrupted. “You don’t have school today.”

“What?”

Keigo stood up with a grunt, dusting off his pants before offering a hand to Keigo, who took it and hoisted himself up. “You alright?” he asked, ignoring Izuku’s confusion.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” Keigo replied, stretching his wings. “Just landed on them wrong.”

“What do you mean, no school today?” Izuku repeated, still processing.

Touya gave a small smirk, leaning against Keigo. “School’s canceled for the week. Some hero tossed a villain through several classrooms, so they’ve shut it down for repairs.”

“Didn’t the school call your mom?” Keigo asked, eyeing Izuku.

Izuku shook his head, a small pout forming. He had walked all the way here when he could have stayed in, watching All Might reruns with his mom. “No, they didn’t.” His irritation grew as he realized how much time he’d wasted.

“Ah, I bet they figured Endeavor would tell your mom,” Touya muttered, irritation creeping into his tone.

“Well, where’s Shouto and Natsou then?” Izuku asked, still hoping for some plan. Without school, maybe they could go to the park or do something fun.

Touya scowled. “Endeavor took Shouto to work with him today. Something about ‘introducing his masterpiece to his future employees’—" he air-quoted. "And Natsou’s out with friends.”

Izuku sighed, kicking his foot into the grass. “Guess I’ll head home then.” He pouted, wishing he could have stayed in bed instead.

“Sorry, kiddo,” Keigo said, though he was more amused than apologetic. “You should probably get back before your mom leaves for shopping.”

Izuku groaned. “I really wanted to go to school today.” He rubbed his head in frustration, muttering to himself about his plans for the day.

“Well,” Keigo said, laughing softly, “at least you’ll have time to relax. Who doesn’t like staying home from school?”

Izuku’s eyes lit up as a new idea crossed his mind. “Can I hang out with you guys?”

The two exchanged confused glances.

“Why would you want to hang out with us boring teenagers?” Touya asked, a smirk tugging at his lips.

“We’re not even doing anything fun today,” Keigo added, shrugging.

“Well…” Izuku glanced at the patch of grass where they’d been sparring. “You guys looked like you were having fun.” His voice softened as he formed a bold new thought. “Can you teach me?”

Touya and Keigo blinked in surprise. “What?”

Izuku's mind was made up. He clenched his hands together and nearly shouted, “Teach me to fight!”

His arms extended in a pleading gesture, and his eyes sparkled with determination.

The pair exchanged a confused glance before turning their concerned gazes back on him. “Huh?” Keigo asked, his brow furrowing slightly. If it were any other time, Izuku might’ve laughed at how startled they looked—almost like they expected him to sprout horns.

He wasn’t backing down, though. “Teach me to fight!” he repeated, his voice firm as he dropped his hands and stomped his foot on the ground like a child throwing a tantrum. “You’ve both had training, right?” Another look was exchanged between them. “Keigo, you’re going to a hero school, and I know your dad has worked with you before, Touya!”

If he’d been paying more attention, Izuku might have noticed the brief shift in Touya’s expression—something hardening behind his eyes.

Touya crossed his arms over his chest. “And?” His voice had lost its warmth, replaced by a tone that was almost cold. “Why do you need our help?”

Izuku pouted, copying the older boy’s defensive posture as he crossed his arms. “Mom won’t let me be taught by actual professionals!” he muttered, a hint of frustration in his voice. “And I’m not an idiot. I know it’s too dangerous to try and teach myself.”

“No,” Touya responded immediately, his tone brokering no argument. The abruptness of his answer nearly knocked Izuku off balance. “You’re too young for training. Enjoy being a kid while you can and wait a couple more years before starting.”

“I’m not too young!” Izuku protested, his voice rising into a whiny pitch. “I’m almost nine! I can handle it! Shouchan’s been training for longer than me, and—”

His words trailed off as a cold sweat broke out on his forehead. He could feel the temperature in the room shift as if the air itself had thickened. He didn’t need to look up to know he had crossed a line by bringing Shouto into the argument.

Thankfully, attention was pulled away when Keigo spoke up. “Aw, come on,” he cooed, his voice light, oblivious to the tension in the room. He didn’t seem to notice the rigid set of Touya’s shoulders. “You heard him. He’s a big kid now. We can show him a few moves.”

Touya’s blazing azure eyes glared at Keigo. “Takami,” he growled, his voice low and dangerous, “no.”

Keigo waved him off, still upbeat. “Nothing serious, just some self-defense practice. We’re not gonna start wailing on him or anything.” His tone was casual, and for a moment, Izuku felt his shoulders relax.

But that comfort was short-lived. Before he could respond, Touya’s hand clamped down on his shoulder, his grip so tight that Izuku felt his blood drain from his face. The Alpha's voice was hard and unyielding. “Izuku,” he said, his tone making Izuku's stomach drop, “go home.”

Without thinking, Izuku bolted. He sprinted through the backyard, across the house, and out the front door without a second thought, not even bothering to close it behind him. His mind was a blur, consumed only by the thought: "Go home."

He didn’t stop until he reached his apartment, his chest heaving with the rush of adrenaline. Only once he was safely inside did he feel his heart rate slow, though the knot of panic in his stomach refused to loosen.

For the rest of the day, Izuku stayed locked in his room, barely managing to tell his mom that school had been canceled and that he would be catching up on homework.

If the plate of cookies she brought him later in the day was any indication, she didn’t buy his excuse.

__________

“Izuku, Touya’s on the phone for you,” his mother called from the doorway, handing him the phone before returning to the living room.

Izuku’s stomach churned with worry as he answered. “Hello?”

“Meet us at Takoba Municipal Beach at 2 o’clock,” Touya’s voice came through, firm and without its usual teasing edge. “Don’t tell your mom what we’re doing. I’d like to keep my head on my shoulders.” Before Izuku could respond, the line went dead.

Izuku pulled the phone away from his ear, his heart racing. Well, I guess I have a teacher now , he thought to himself, though his excitement was tainted by guilt. He hadn’t meant to cause any tension between the two boys. He had just gotten so caught up in the idea of someone finally agreeing to train him that he hadn’t considered the fallout of pushing too hard.

He just hoped Keigo and Touya weren’t still upset with him.

Chapter Text

The familiar cold stone of the facility's floor sent an unpleasant shock through Izuku’s body as he slipped off his bunk. A deafening silence filled the space around him, not even the sound of breathing from his roommates could be heard. This unnerved him greatly, so, carefully, he inched towards Hisakawa’s bunk reaching up to tug the blanket back and check on his friend. But when he pulled the fabric away no one laid underneath. Despite this fact, Izuku had clearly seen a lump under the sheets. “Hisakawa?” he whispered, his soft voice echoing in the quiet of the room, causing him to flinch. 

His breath caught in his throat, a tight knot of dread coiling in his chest. The silence was oppressive; loud noises were forbidden after 8 pm, and the thought of breaking that rule filled him with terror. They had never been shy when dishing out punishments. But nothing came, no footsteps, no blinding lights, nothing. And that scared him more than anything else. 

“Hamasaki? Maki?” he called out helplessly, hoping his other roommates might at least still be there. But no one stirred from under their covers. Quickly, he moved to pull their blankets off as well. The soft fear that had been plucking at his heart since he first woke up now flooded through his veins as his heart rate increased. Where could Hisakawa and Hamasaki be? Panic clawed at him as he envisioned their faces, had something terrible happened to them

No one was allowed outside their rooms past lights out, he knew this well, but so did his friends. He knew there was no way they had all willingly gone out when they knew the consequences. Almost everyone who first came here made the mistake of trying to leave as some form of rebellion. No matter how many times the older kids would warn them, everyone still tried at least once. The phantom stings of the whip slicing open his calves pricked at his skin and he flinched at the memory. His hand trembled above the doorknob, he had to leave the room to try and find someone, but despite his willingness to stand in for other children's punishments, he still feared the pain that came with it. 

Before he could decide for himself, the door swung open, hitting the wall with an extreme amount of force that sent a loud crash throughout the empty halls. But the door did not bounce back in the way it usually would when being slammed open. Rather it remained stuck firmly against the wall, the crash still ringing in the air. But despite the noise, no one came to investigate.

“Hello?” he called out, his voice trembling as he did so. “Aiya?....Hikaru?” still no reply.

Carefully, he stepped past his doorframe, moving as quickly as he was capable of as he searched the empty halls. He knocked on door after door, each hollow thud resonating like a funeral bell, met only by an unsettling silence that deepened his dread. He would’ve checked inside them too if not for the fact that each door was locked firmly in place, the knob not budging an inch as he tugged at it with all the strength he carried in his small body. 

He wasn’t sure how long he wandered, but soon he’d checked every dorm room on the bottom floor of the dormitory and no one had answered. Feeling even more freaked out, he decided to skip checking the rest of the floors and headed straight to the teacher's building, which was connected directly adjacent to the children's one with a long hallway with wide windows stretching the entire way. Casting a look outside as he made his way to the teacher's side left much to be desired. The night air hung heavy with a dense fog that curled around the building like a shroud, muffling sounds and distorting shapes into eerie silhouettes. Alone in the suffocating silence, Izuku’s breath quickened as he sensed a presence lurking just beyond the fog, a shadow whispering of danger that sent chills racing down his spine. 

He moved on, unable to look out the window any longer.

“Ms. Hana? Mr. Blue?” he called out again but once again…nothing. Never did Izuku think he would actually want to see Mr. Blue, but at this point, he would’ve gladly dealt with the cruel man if it meant he wasn’t alone. 

He started knocking on the teachers' doors the second they came into sight, but once again there was no response and no sound from within the rooms to signify that there was any life inside them either. At this point, he had begun to shake with fear and anxiety as tears began to well up in his eyes. Without warning he began running down the curved hallway, racing towards the one room everyone advised them to stay away from, even in an emergency. But with fear gripping his heart and the emptiness of the world around him leaving his head pounding like a drum in his ears, he could no longer think even a little rationally. The door to Mr. Blue’s room seemed to stretch further and further away as if the hallway itself was trying to prevent him from reaching it. But eventually, he managed to outrun the warning and threw himself against the door. His breathing came out in rattling gasps as he slammed his fist against the wood with more force than he believed himself capable of.

Without warning the door gave way, groaning and cracking as it crumbled into splinters in front of him. The sudden action caused him to tumble forward, his hands and knees slamming into the ground with such force he knew it would certainly be a nasty bruise tomorrow. Tears finally spilled from his eyes, trailing down his cheeks but he bit his lip to keep from whimpering in pain. When he managed to raise his head through the pain, he saw that the man's bedroom was empty. Not the man, nor any furniture was visible within the dim room, not even a light bulb hung overhead.

“Mr. Blue..?” his voice trembled, and with shaking limbs he pushed himself to his feet, stumbling further into the room. Strangely it wasn’t a large room, certainly not large enough for a man who was in charge of an entire facility of children and teachers. It seemed as if it would only hold a twin side bed and a desk comfortably, and there wasn’t even an offset section for a closet. 

The feeling of eyes watching him came with the sudden prickling against his skin as the hairs on his arms stood on end. Whipping his head around he nearly screamed as the towering form of Mr. Blue stood over him, close enough that Izuku could have reached out and taken ahold of the man’s pants leg if he hadn’t been smacked for doing something similar during the first few weeks of his time in the facility. “You’re here,” he whispered disbelieving, a mix of fear and relief fighting for a place in his chest.

“Well, it is my room,” the walls seemed to curl towards them, shrinking the already small room, but the older man paid this no mind. “What are you doing here.”

“I was- it just-” he tripped over his words for a moment before everything came spilling out, “everyone is gone! No one was in the room with me, and I tried checking the other rooms but no one answered and even the teachers didn’t come to check the door when I knocked!” now that his mind had begun to somewhat settle, he supposed everyone might have been just sleeping, very deeply… perhaps he hadn’t been loud enough when knocking? But then what about his missing roommates? He hoped they didn’t get in too much trouble with Mr. Blue if it turned out they had just snuck out and he had ratted on them, but if that was the case he was a bit hurt they hadn’t even invited him along…

Mr. Blue interrupted his racing thoughts with a rather underwhelming reply. Simplifying sighing with a curt “I see.” Not bothering to hide his disinterest in the boy's explanation. It was at this point that Izuku realized the door that he had entered through was no longer broken on the floor. In fact, it no longer existed, instead being filled with pale white walls as if it had never been there.

“Your hands. What happened?”

“Huh?” startled he held up his hand's palms to see what the man was talking about, only just now noticing that his hands had already begun to bruise from his earlier fall. It certainly wasn’t the worst injury he’s gained while here but wasn’t a very pretty sight either, and writing out his English assignment would be even more troublesome with his pencil pressing against them.

“What happened to your hands?” he repeated again, “and your knees?”

“Oh…” he had never received such interest in his bruises, only being dismissed to immediately get them healed without asking any questions. “I just fell on my way here.”

“Liar,” the man replied pleasantly, lurching forward so that he could grasp the boy's shoulders, his fingers digging deeply into the skin as his fake smile widened.

“What-? Ouch- I’m not lying-!” he replied indignantly, immediately trying to defend himself and push the man away, but the pressure on his shoulders only increased. The force with which he was being held felt inhuman, and he swore he could feel his bones begin to creak in protest underneath his skin.

“No one likes a liar, my dear boy,” he chided, “we both know that no harm has ever come to you within these walls. Not to anyone, and certainly not to you.”

He hated this, how the man always denied what he said as being a lie. Especially when it came to injuries. He especially hated it when he denied the injuries the man had personally given him. Always wore such a condescending smile as he did so. Izuku may have been young but he wasn’t stupid, he saw the joy in the man's eyes. The same joy he had felt when receiving the newest All Might figure, or when his mom would take him out for ice cream after he’d received high marks on his test, was the same joy he could see reflected in Mr. Blue’s eyes whenever he was given the opportunity to discipline a child. 

“Yes it did!” he insisted, his fear being replaced with anger that didn’t feel entirely his own, “these bruises didn’t just come from nowhere!”

“Then where are the marks?” the man chuckled, his smile shifting into something genuine, and much crueler than his usual plastic smile. Lifting up his hands once more to show the man, he found that the bruises no longer marred his skin. “Where’s the proof ?” he didn’t have any time to question how the bruises had disappeared so quickly when he was sent tumbling to the floor as Mr. Blue shoved him backward. The man’s words began echoing around the room, bouncing off the walls and filling his head with static. 

He pushed himself up, ready to take whatever beating was going to be given this time with a brave face, but he found that the man had disappeared entirely. Instead, his eyes meet his own as the walls around him seem to have been replaced with mirrors, leaving him trapped in a tight box with only his reflection at all angles.  

Like a timelapse, he could see through the mirrors, red welts formed on his back and arms from the sting of a whip before quickly disappearing back into his pale freckled skin. Scrapes on his skin, the crack of a broken nose, cuts, and the pouring of blood from the slice of unsupervised scissor use. Even injured he remembered receiving, down to the smallest papercut seemed to crawl against his skin before disappearing as if they never happened. But he remembered them. He swore they happened. He remembered the pain, he remembered the tears. The smell of the nurse’s nail polish as she fixed another injury with disinterest and apathy. 

It had happened! 

He wasn’t a liar!

The expression in his reflected self shifted into a pitying look, and in his voice, it whispered, “No one loves a liar Izuku.” before all the mirrors promptly shattered.

…he woke up

________

Izuku had never been more anxious in preparation for an afternoon as he was today. Since Touya's phone call, he had been restless, and even when he had managed to get to sleep that night, he had been plagued by nightmares he had believed to have left behind him. It was absurd because he was now free, the facility no longer had authority over him, and nothing even remotely awful had occurred to him since leaving. His mother was just as great as always, he made a ton of new friends at school, and most of Shouto's family welcomed him with open arms. In a way, they were the siblings he’d never gotten to have and he felt so lucky to be a part of their lives now. So it didn’t make sense for nightmares to only now start popping up that his life was getting better.

When Izuku arrived at the beach, he had already begun to shake from his built-up anxiety. Trash lined the sand as far as he could see, but waiting by the stairs he could make out the bright red wings of Keigo. And standing next to him was a clearly brooding Touya. Keigo had an arm thrown over his shoulder, but Touya shoved him away rather harshly once they saw him coming. Which was weird since Izuku was well aware that they were together so it wasn’t like they had to hide anything from him. But he said nothing about it, especially when he saw the heated glare Touya was shooting at Keigo.

“Hey, there shrub!” Keigo called out with a smile and a wave in his direction. Izuku chooses to also ignore the tension in the older boy’s shoulders and the forced cheeriness in his smile. He had a nagging feeling that he may be the cause of some of their tension and wasn’t quite sure how to broach the subject without getting brought into an argument.

“Hey!” he called back, trying to hide his anxiety behind his enthusiasm. Touya said nothing, merely staring at him before sighing and walking towards the stone stairs to the beach. 

Keigo let out an annoyed groan and trudged after his boyfriend, “come on shrub, best not to keep grumpy pants waiting.” he said with a joking tone but quickly jogged ahead of the younger boy so that he could grab ahold of Touya’s shoulder and whisper something harshly into his ear. The pair argued in hushed tones for a moment, occasionally throwing looks and gesturing wildly back at him before they both went still. 

The tension between the teens had clearly not faded, and Izuku’s skin buzzed uncomfortably as they both turned to face him. Once more Keigo put on a cheery expression, while Touya looked about ten seconds away from bursting into flames. “Okay! Sorry about that, we just needed to have a quick chat together.” Keigo tried to gently assure him, but the sneer Touya sent his way did little to soften the mood in the air, “you ready to get started?”

Nodding quickly, his enthusiasm still shining through despite his worries, he quickly moved closer to the older boys. Touya tensed before quickly schooling his expression, although the way smoke began to lift from his body gave himself away. “Come on,” the boy snapped, speaking directly to Izuku for the first time that day. He snapped his fingers once before pointing in front of him, “Don't waste my time, let me see your stance.” Izuku rushed to comply, spreading his feet apart and balling his fist the same way he’d seen in those old martial art movies his dad would send him. 

Immediately Touya began adjusting his stance, grumbling under his breath as he did so. “You’re a bit stiff,” Keigo explained as Touya pushed his feet further apart and shoved his shoulders down so that he was in a lower position. “You’re also too boxed up, you need to spread yourself out a bit more so that you can move and block attacks easier,” Touya continued to remain silent while he adjusted the younger boy’s stance, his partner filling in the silence for him. With a firm grip, he took hold of Izuku’s elbows and shifted his arms so that his right fist was closer to his abdomen and his left fist was now positioned higher in front of his chest.

“There,” the older boy took a step back, nodding once in approval at the new stance. “Now,” he moved back in front of the boy, “throw a punch.” Hesitantly, Izuku did so. Taking a step forward, he brought his left hand closer to his chest, raised his right hand, and then struck with his still-balled fist.

Touya caught it easily, gripping the fist of his right hand with a firm hold. “No,” he snapped and Izuku flinched at the sharp tone, “you’re going to break your hand if you punch like that.” Still holding the boy's hand, he forced the fingers apart before quickly adjusting Izuku's grip so that his thumb was tucked beneath his knuckles rather than pressed against the palm covered by any of his other fingers.

“It’s okay,” Keigo encouraged from the sidelines, “it’s only your first time, you’ll pick it up in no time!”

He nodded at Keigo's encouragement and then awaited Touya to step back before trying again. Although it was caught just as easily as the previous, Touya seemed significantly less agitated this time. " Better, but don't think you can start a fight at school simply because I showed you one punch," he said sternly. "This is just the basics.  The true training will begin once you are familiar with your forms and I have a basic understanding of your capabilities."  Izuku made an effort not to become overly offended by the other boy's assumption that the first thing he would do with this information was pick a fight, and instead only nodded in silent agreement to the boy's terms.

Not wasting another moment, Touya instructed Izuku to stand in various forms, loosely imitating fighting stances he’d recognized from television. Once he had positioned the boy he’d instruct him to strike out a couple of times in practice before moving on to the next position. Just out of sight, Kegio had begun typing something on his phone, occasionally taking photos of Izuku as he moved in and out of positions. 

After some time, the two teenagers moved away and began to converse quietly while looking over the pictures Keigo had snapped, making remarks among themselves and jotting down notes on their phones. Every time Izuku tried to not so subtly lean closer, they seemed to get quieter, making it impossible for him to hear what they were saying. “Alright,” Touya started, making his way back toward him after another couple of minutes. “I’m going to have you take some tests now. Do as many as you can, and I want you to really push yourself. I can’t teach you if you aren’t willing to give it your all.” 

“Right!” Izuku cheered in affirmation, eager to get started. That was until Touya told him to start by doing pushups in the sand. He admits that he loathed doing the exercise from physical education class at his school, therefore he hesitated. But after taking one glance at Touya, he realized that his viewpoint was unnecessary and that it would be best if he simply followed directions before the teen blew his top again.

Different drills were given to him. Push-ups, jumping jacks, lunges, bear crawls, bicycle kicks, burpees, squats, and a variety of other exercises left his legs and arms aching and his breathing labored as he fought to keep up. Touya made him run laps around the beach's trash piles after noticing how out of breath he was getting and telling him to keep going until he couldn't any longer. And with trembling legs Izuku did so, only making it about four laps before he collapsed into the sand. He heard an exasperated sigh behind him followed by the crunch of sneakers on sand approaching him. “Okay, that's enough for today. I’ll work on making a schedule for you so that way we have a plan going forward.” 

Despite his clear disinterest in teaching Izuku anything about fighting, Touya appeared to take it very seriously. Even going as far as to actually look into the best and healthiest ways to train the young boy. Although perhaps that was just fear of what Inko might do to him if she found out about any of this. 

With shaking arms Izuku pulled himself up from where he collapsed in the sand, Keigo skipping over to help him while Touya had already stalked off towards the stairs. “Come on bud,” he chuckled while lightly brushing the sand off the young boy’s shirt, “catch your breath for a moment and we’ll walk you home once you’re ready.” 

It took a while before Izuku felt stable enough to begin moving again. But Keigo stood next to him the entire time, placing a soft hand on his back and filling the air with idle conversation until he felt ready to move back toward the concrete pathway at the front of the beach. Touya, in the meantime, waited on the sidewalk, waiting for them without saying a word while impatiently tapping his foot in the manner of a frustrated parent urging their child to hurry up and leave the park. Izuku was tempted to move quickly in an effort to at least partially placate the teenager but Keigo's hand had moved to grab hold of his shoulder, keeping him next to him as they continued to walk side by side. The teenager gave him a crooked grin as he peered up at him before replying to Izuku's silent query, "Touya could stand to be a bit more patient after running you ragged, don't you think?”

Izuku wasn't opposed to taking his time getting home, but he wasn't sure it was a good idea to easily provoke the other boy. But he decided to put his trust in Keigo's tactics and the relationship between the two teenagers. Maybe giving him more time and space alone would help him calm down a little.

It didn’t unfortunately. The walk across the beach wasn’t nearly long enough to cool an anger as fiery as a Todoroki’s. Once they reached the sidewalk Touya turned on his heels and began walking with such speed it was more appropriate to call it a jog. And despite his earlier attitude, even Keigo couldn’t help but speed up after the boy as they all ran toward Izuku’s apartment. When they arrived he could feel the world spin as his head pounded with exhaustion. Faintly he heard Touya bark out a “good night” before hurrying on his way home, not even bothering to wait for his boyfriend who was still racing after him. An argument was no doubt going to take place as soon as they left earshot once again but Izuku had more personal concerns to worry about as he leaned against the metal railway of the apartment staircase.

His chest heaved as burning air struggled to enter his lungs. Never had he worked so hard in an afternoon, and the burn of strained muscles was something he was not familiar with. The feeling was an entirely different sensation than the pain caused in the facility. Somehow along the way he had become accustomed to the ache of bruises and the sting of a whip, or the searing pain of broken bones, so this new sense of a persistent ache was unfamiliar. But it wasn't unpleasant because he knew that, at the very least, this suffering would lead to something positive and, in the end, make him a stronger person.

Now if only he could bring himself to finish the climb up the stairs into his apartment...

________

Touya Todoroki was the eldest son of Enji and Rei Todoroki, the first creation and one-half of a pair of twins. His sister Fuyumi was not far behind him in terms of age, only a couple of minutes, but she was born far weaker than he was, having to be taken from their parents almost the moment she was born to be put under observation. She had returned after a couple of days when the doctors deemed her able, but their mother was also excessively careful with her daughter from that moment on.

Touya Todoroki always knew he was destined for greatness. From the moment his Quirk awakened - a burst of brilliant blue flames that engulfed his small hands just days after his fourth birthday - his father had declared him a genius. The pride in his father's eyes that day was all Touya ever wanted. He'd be just like him . The greatest hero, just like Endeavor. His training began immediately.

At first, every lesson with his father felt like a gift. His muscles ached, and his skin tingled with the heat, but he reveled in the attention. He could hardly wait to get stronger, to see the awe on his father’s face. He only had to push a little harder. Always a little more.

Fuyumi, his twin, wasn’t as lucky. She had a Quirk, sure, but when she froze a glass of water and cried about being thirsty, their father dismissed her future as a hero with a single glance. "Better suited for another path." Their mother's quiet sigh of relief had baffled him at the time. Touya hadn't understood why their father's rejection of Fuyumi's rejection didn’t like a failure to them.

And then Natsuo was born. Touya still remembered the joy of seeing his little brother for the first time, small and helpless, just like him once. Being an older brother made him feel important in a different way. He would protect Natsuo, just as their father protected them all. But Natsuo’s snow Quirk never caught their father’s interest..

As Touya grew, so did his flames. But something was wrong. The power that surged from him, his beautiful terrifying fire, started to scorch his own flesh. His father, determined to keep Touya on the path to becoming a hero, doubled down on the training. "Push through the pain," he would say, though Touya noticed that Endeavor's lessons became fewer and fewer, and the concern in his mother's eyes grew deeper. Doctors told them the truth he refused to accept. His Quirk, a perfect blend of his father’s fire and his mother’s ice resistance, was eating him alive. The worst possible combination. Touya didn’t care. He had to be the one to succeed. Fuyumi’s Quirk was weak, Natsuo was too soft, and then there was Shouto.

Touya hated Shouto from the moment his parents brought him home. The baby with the mismatched hair and different-colored eyes was a living reminder that he was no longer his father's masterpiece. "This one will be perfect." Touya saw it in Endeavor’s eyes, the way he looked at Shouto like he was the answer to everything that had gone wrong.

Desperate for attention, Touya tried everything. Training harder, acing his schoolwork, even getting into trouble just so his father would notice. But his burns became impossible to hide, and instead of approval, all he earned was rage. "Stop this foolishness!" Endeavor would roar, but Touya couldn’t. He needed to prove he was still worthy.

By the time he turned thirteen, the tension in the house was unbearable. Shouto, at just six, was already mastering his powers under their father’s strict guidance. Touya had drifted away from Fuyumi, their bond strained by his obsession with surpassing their father’s expectations. His once-red hair had begun to fade, turning a pale white, and his arms were a patchwork of scars from burns he’d inflicted on himself in secret.

One night, Touya came home after hours of solitary training. His skin stung from fresh burns, and exhaustion hung heavy on his limbs. As he approached the house, flashing lights caught his eye. Police cars and an ambulance were parked outside, and a wave of panic gripped him.

The scene that awaited him was a nightmare. His mother was being led away, sobbing hysterically, shouting apologies that barely rose above the sound of Shouto’s cries coming from the ambulance. "Baby! My baby! I didn’t mean to hurt him... I’m sorry!"

Touya’s heart pounded in his chest. He ran inside to find Fuyumi and Natsuo huddled together, crying in her room. Fuyumi, through broken sobs, told him what had happened. Their mother had snapped. No one knew exactly why, but whatever had happened resulted in her throwing boiling water over Shouto’s face. The pain of the memory still echoed in the house long after the ambulance left.

At that moment, something dark that had been blooming inside Touya began to spread. He felt it, the ugly, twisting feeling of resentment toward his youngest brother. In the back of his mind, he knew it wasn’t Shouto’s fault. He knew that. But the hatred was there all the same, fueled by years of neglect and desperation.

To escape the suffocating emotions, Touya threw himself back into his training. He avoided home, even sleeping in the shed out back to avoid the sight of his broken family. Months passed like a blur, his body now a patchwork of burn scars. But finally, his persistence paid off.

Standing in front of his makeshift training ground, the smoldering embers of his father's ultimate move lay before him. He had done it. He had mastered it. Maybe now, finally, his father would look at him.

When the night came, he waited in the forest for his father to show up so he could show off the power he had taught himself. Finally, he could show the man he admired, his skills, and prove to Endeavor that not only had he made a mistake abandoning him, but also that he was greater than Shouto could ever dream of being. 

But he never showed up. 

Enraged, Touya set fire to the mountainside. The trees, grass, and bushes ignited instantly, engulfed by the intense blue flames. His skin burned with the force of his Quirk, but the pain only fueled his fury. He screamed in agony but refused to stop, his rage blinding him to everything else. All he could see were blue flames, all he could smell was his own flesh burning. Then, everything went dark.

When Touya woke, he was in a stark, sterile hospital room. The walls were a blinding white, the only other color being the light gray tiles beneath him and the cold, silver vault door that seemed like the only exit. He tried to sit up, but his body refused to move. His arms were too weak to lift, and even turning his head took a monumental effort. His eyes landed on the IV bag dripping painkillers into what little unscarred skin remained on his arm. Despite the medication, his entire body screamed in agony.

But he was alive. Someone had saved him.

His chest tightened at the thought. There was only one person who would have known where he’d been, his father. Maybe... maybe his father had finally come. Maybe Enji had realized what he had done and rescued him. For a brief moment, hope flared within him. Perhaps, if he had just waited a little longer, he could have proven his worth, and shown his father his true power.

The loud clunk of the vault door unlocking shattered that hope. He winced at the noise, the sudden movement sending sharp jolts of pain through his body. The door creaked open slowly, metal grinding against metal. Touya’s heart raced, excitement mixing with dread. His father had to be furious with him for the fire, for getting hurt, but at least he had come. At least he cared enough to-

Bright red filled his vision, but it wasn’t the red of his father’s hair. Instead, it was the vivid red of feathers. Large wings attached to a young man stepping through the door. “Oh, you’re awake,” the stranger said, his voice casual, though surprise flickered in his golden-brown eyes.

Touya’s heart sank. The fragile hope that had bloomed in his chest shattered. This wasn’t his father. He had been left behind, after all. The thought twisted inside him like a knife, feeding the anger that always simmered beneath the surface. His hands twitched, instinctively trying to call forth his flames- but nothing happened.

“Yeah, that’s not gonna work,” the boy said, his voice tinged with amusement. He leaned against the wall, his posture relaxed, though Touya could sense the cautious tension in his stance. “I’m Keigo, by the way.”

Touya barely registered the introduction, his eyes narrowing as he glanced down at his wrists. Two shiny, metallic handcuffs were clasped around them. Quirk suppressors. Keigo must have noticed his gaze because he grinned.

“Quirk suppressors. You kept lighting yourself on fire in your sleep, so I borrowed them from the cops.” His tone was light, almost teasing, but it only made Touya’s blood boil.

He glared at the blond, gritting his teeth. His flames were gone, his father hadn’t come, and now he was trapped in this room with a smug stranger who didn’t seem to realize just how dangerous Touya could be.

“So, who are you?” the boy asked casually, but Touya remained silent, his gaze fixed on the blanket draped over his lap. He clenched his jaw, refusing to meet the stranger's eyes. How dare he walk in here and mock him? Why had they bothered to save him, treat his wounds? Did they think Endeavor would thank them for rescuing his son? What a joke. Endeavor hadn’t cared about him in years. If anything, the man would probably hate them for saving him.

The boy sighed theatrically, moving closer until his hand grasped the railing of the bed, his expression far too amused for Touya’s liking. “Alright, let’s try a different question,” he said, leaning in slightly. “What were you doing on that mountain, Todoroki Touya ?”

At the sound of his name, Touya’s head snapped up, eyes locking onto the smug face hovering over him. “Why ask if you already know?” he snapped, glaring at the boy with all the intensity he could muster.

The boy ignored him, a smirk tugging at his lips. “Arson’s a pretty serious crime,” he continued as if Touya hadn’t spoken at all. “Especially when it causes a massive forest fire. Even if you’re the son of Endeavor, that’s a big deal-”

“I am not that man’s son!” Touya shouted, cutting him off, his voice filled with raw, seething anger. His hands trembled as he gripped the blanket tightly. He glared at Keigo, his voice sharp and unsteady. “How could someone as useless as me be that bastard's son.”

“You want to know why I was on that mountain?” Touya spat, his breathing uneven. “It was to show him I was still worth something! That I could be the hero he wanted, the one he could be proud of. I trained myself so hard, even when it hurt, just so he’d look at me the way he looks at him.” His voice cracked, and the bitterness surged again. “But he didn’t care. He never does. Not about me.”

Touya’s fists clenched tighter as the raw emotion poured out. “Instead, he cast me aside like I was nothing! Just because my Quirk hurt me. Like it was my fault. And now Shouto gets everything. His training, his attention. I’m the one who was supposed to be his legacy, not him! I hate it. I hate watching that bastard give everything to Shouto when I’m the one who tried harder than anyone else!”

His voice grew louder, more desperate as if the weight of his pain was finally too much to hold back. “And my siblings? They’re afraid of him. Natsou, Shouto, they hate him. Fuyumi? She’s pathetic. She loves him even though she’s scared of him. But they’ll never understand what it’s like. They don’t know what it feels like to be thrown away by the one person you want to be proud of you!”

Keigo stayed silent, his golden-brown eyes watching Touya with a calm intensity. He didn’t interrupt, didn’t dismiss his pain. He let Touya rage, allowing him to release the emotions that had been festering for years.

Why was he saying all this? To a kid, he didn’t even know. There was no reason to be spilling his guts, his thoughts, feelings, and anger - all the worst bits of him -, out to this stranger. But once the floodgate had opened it seemed impossible to stop even for a second.

Finally, when Touya’s breath came in ragged gasps and his voice quieted, Keigo spoke in a low, steady tone. “I get it,” he said softly. He seemed to consider Touya at that moment. Really consider him. His face finally dropped that cocky laid back attitude. “I know what it’s like to want someone’s approval more than anything else. To be pushed away by the people who are supposed to care about you.”

Touya looked at him, surprised by the calmness in Keigo’s voice.

“My old man,” Keigo began, leaning back slightly, “he used to beat me for no reason. Told me every day that I was a mistake, that I shouldn’t have been born. He kept me locked inside, away from everyone, like I didn’t deserve to be seen. I was nothing to him. Just a burden.”

He paused, letting the words sink in, then continued. “For a long time, I thought that’s all I was. Just someone’s throwaway. But then Endeavor arrested him, and I thought… maybe things would get better. They didn’t, not right away. The people who took me in, the Hero Public Safety Commission, they didn’t really care about me either. They just wanted to use me, train me like a tool. But that’s where you and I are different, Touya.”

Keigo leaned forward, his expression sharpening, though his tone stayed gentle. “I didn’t let that hate for my dad destroy me. I didn’t let it make me think I was worthless just because he couldn’t see my value. Endeavor? Yeah, he’s done horrible things -to you, to your family. But your siblings? They’re not him. They didn’t push you aside. They didn’t hurt you.”

Touya’s fists unclenched slightly, his eyes flicking down to his lap, but his anger still simmered. “They didn’t stop him either,” he muttered, his voice lower now, but still edged with resentment.

“How could they? They’re scared,” Keigo replied quietly. “Just like you were. Just like you still are. And that’s okay. It’s not weakness, it’s just being human. They don’t understand what you’ve been through. But that doesn’t make them the enemy. They’re victims too.”

Touya’s jaw clenched, and he looked away, but Keigo’s words seemed to be sinking in.

“I get why you’re angry,” Keigo said, his voice even softer now. “But don’t let that anger turn into hate for the people who didn’t do this to you. Natsou, Shouto, Fuyumi… They didn’t burn you. They didn’t throw you away. Endeavor did. And trust me, if you keep directing all that rage toward your siblings, all you’re doing is burning yourself from the inside out.”

For a moment, Touya was silent, his thoughts swirling. He could feel his chest tightening, the familiar heat rising within him as if the flames were threatening to spill out. He wanted to hate them. He wanted someone to blame for how broken he felt. But something in Keigo’s words made him hesitate. He knew it should be his father that he hates. But for some reason he couldn’t bring himself to do so. 

“They still love him,” Touya whispered, voice strained. “How could they love him after everything he did?”

Keigo sighed, his wings shifting slightly as he leaned back. “Sometimes, people love the idea of who they wish someone could be, not who they actually are. It sounds like Fuyumi loves the father she wants Endeavor to be, not the one who hurt you. But she’s scared too. And Shouto? Natsou? They’re trying to survive him, just like you.”

He flinched at that. Was that how he was? Did he just love the image of his father that he built up so much, that it excused every action the man had taken against him? Touya looked up, meeting Keigo’s eyes. For the first time, the burning in his chest wasn’t rage, but something else. Something softer, more uncertain.

“I don’t know how to… let it go,” Touya admitted, his voice barely a whisper.

Keigo gave him a small smile, not patronizing, but understanding. “You don’t have to let it go. You just need to figure out where to aim that fire. Protect your siblings, Touya. Don’t push them away. They need someone strong, someone who can show them the truth about Endeavor, even if they’re not ready to see it yet. Be the brother you wish you had. Protect them from the same pain you went through.”

Touya swallowed, the weight of Keigo’s words heavy in his chest. He looked down again, unsure of what to say, unsure if he could ever see his siblings as anything other than weak. But for the first time, the idea of protecting them instead of resenting them didn’t seem so impossible.

He still hated Endeavor. That wasn’t going to change. But maybe… maybe he didn’t have to hate them too.

They sat in silence for a moment, both digesting the weight of the words exchanged between them. Eventually, Keigo broke the stillness, explaining where he had been that day. The forest fire had grown so large that not only the fire department but multiple heroes had been called in to assist. Keigo had been sent to help with evacuations and moving equipment, and that’s when he found Touya; still smoking from the effects of his Quirk.

At first, they thought he was the victim of an attempted murder. They assumed whoever attacked him had tried to burn his body to hide the evidence, causing the massive fire. But they quickly realized that not only was Touya still alive, but he was the source of the blaze.

The authorities immediately considered charging him as a villain once he recovered from his injuries. However, DNA testing revealed that he was the son of the number two hero, which complicated things. As soon as Endeavor learned that one of his children was responsible for such destruction, he got his lawyers and PR team involved. A story was spun that his eldest son had been kidnapped and used as a test subject for a new experimental drug circulating in the underground. The tale involved a dangerous mixture of the Quirk-enhancing drug 'Trigger' and a new drug from Sootherz, initially intended to calm an Alpha's rage. Which, when mixed with Trigger, it had the opposite effect, sending an Alpha into a violent frenzy. This fact led to the product being pulled from shelves, so it was something that strictly existed underground.

“They sent me in here hoping I could get you to confess to setting the mountain on fire on purpose, no drugs involved,” Keigo explained.

“Which I did,” Touya admitted with a long, drawn-out sigh. “Fuck.”

They sat in silence once more. Keigo looked uncomfortable, while Touya seethed, clearly angry at the situation he now found himself in, having never considered the consequences of his outburst. Eventually, Keigo broke the tension.

“Hey,” Keigo said cautiously. “Why don’t we make a deal?”

Touya narrowed his eyes, knowing he was at a disadvantage. “What kind of deal?”

“I’ll tell them you don’t remember what happened,” Keigo offered. “That you were in your room one moment, and the next thing you knew, you woke up here with no memory of anything in between.”

“And what do you want in return?” Touya asked, suspicion heavy in his voice.

Keigo hesitated, looking uncomfortable. He reached into his jeans pocket, pulling out a card. He scribbled his number on it quickly before holding it out to Touya. “A friend,” Keigo said, giving an awkward smile, probably the most genuine expression Touya had ever seen from him. “I uh... don’t get out much. And you seem like... I don’t know, fun? We could spar or something, whatever friends do.”

Touya stared at the card in disbelief, then reached out, ignoring the pain in his arms as he took it. “...Fine. You’ve got a deal.”

“Great!” Keigo cheered, then immediately folded in on himself in embarrassment. “I mean- uh, that’s good. Glad to have you as, um, a friend, and all that…” He started backing toward the door, awkwardly waving. “I’ll just, uh, let them know you don’t remember anything. Uh- bye!” And faster than Touya had ever seen anyone move, Keigo was gone.

The next few weeks passed in a haze of healing and quiet reflection. Touya’s mind kept drifting back to his memories, scrutinizing them through a new lens. In hindsight, he couldn’t recall a single moment since Natsuo’s birth when his siblings hadn’t looked terrified in Endeavor’s presence. His mother was bruised and battered from defending his youngest brother. Shouto had always looked like he was on the verge of either throwing up or bursting into tears.

It was the first time Touya viewed his family without the same contempt he’d harbored since Shouto’s birth. For some reason, the memory of his youngest brother being dragged off to training, crying and begging to be allowed to play with them, kept replaying in his mind. Even at the peak of his own training, no one had stopped him from playing with his siblings.

It was difficult to admit you’ve been in the wrong the majority of your life. But Touya was beginning to come to the terrible realization that this might’ve been the case for him. Fuck. He was going to have to find a way to make it up to Shouto. And the rest of his siblings. As soon as he got out of here

________

Keigo came along to watch their second meet-up as well, however, he had been summoned by his caretakers earlier that morning on their third day of training, meaning he was unable to attend and mediate between the two. As such, training had been particularly brutal. Izuku’s muscles screamed in protest with every move, his lungs burning, and his legs trembling under the pressure. Touya barely allowed him a moment’s rest, pushing him harder than anyone had ever before.

Finally, after being knocked to the ground again, Izuku could no longer hold back his frustration. "Why are you treating me like this?!" he yelled, voice cracking. "I’m trying! But this... this is too much!"

Touya, whose eyes were burning with something dark and unreadable, rounded on him. “You don’t understand a damn thing!” He stormed over, grabbing Izuku by the front of his shirt with a smoking hand. The heat radiating from his skin made Izuku flinch, but Touya didn’t let go. "The hardest moment of your life was when you were taken from your mother and sent to the facility?" His words dripped with venom, his grip tightening as he shook Izuku. "You think that was bad? At least you got to talk to her. Do you have any idea what it's like to be completely discarded by your own family?"

Izuku’s breath caught, but Touya wasn’t finished. His smile was twisted, devoid of warmth, eyes flashing with years of unresolved rage. “ Poor little Omega, with his caretakers and schedules. I'm so sorry you had to be away from Mommy while you were coddled. ” His voice turned mocking, biting. "You don’t know real suffering."

Izuku froze the words like a slap. His mind flashed back to the facility, to the brutal punishments, the whippings, and the control Mr. Blue had forced over his body and mind. Memories flooded back, and his chest tightened, but Touya didn’t notice. Or care. Touya was lost in his own pain.

“You think I had it easy? I spent years destroying myself, burning up my body just to get that bastard’s approval! And then, the second he had a better son with a better Quirk, he tossed me aside like I was nothing!"

“Shut up!” Izuku screamed, his voice breaking with the force of his yell. The world drained of color as Izuku’s Quirk activated, time grinding to a halt. Touya stood frozen mid-shout, his face twisted in fury, eyes wide, body rigid. Izuku gasped for air, feeling a tear slip down his cheek, the sound of his breath the only thing that filled the unnatural stillness.

Izuku huffed with barely contained rage, his face already going red as he fought back angry tears. “What the hell was that!” He shouted at the frozen boy. He knew that Touya couldn’t hear him, or see him at the moment. But that only encouraged him to let loose, knowing there would be no consequences for saying what was on his mind if no one knew he said anything. 

“ I’m the one who doesn’t know anything?! Who are you to say that? You’ve never even been into a facility!” Izuku had been pretty shocked to hear that Keigo was in a relationship with Touya even though he was also an Alpha. It was an incredibly rare matchup that while not wrong in the eyes of the law, was considered very taboo. Still, he had been happy for them because it was a choice they both had to make. But he had been confused as to why Shouto wasn’t given the same option of finding his own partner rather than having to buy one from a facility. When he asked, Shouto had mentioned how he had been the first of his siblings to actually go to the facilities as Touya had been the only other Alpha, and Endeavor had insisted there weren’t any worthy Omegas there at the time. Shouto had only been brought to go because Endeavor had seen the list of quirks available at the facility and decided there were some worth taking interest in.

“Do you know what it’s like to be taken from the only person who ever loved you and be told you’re nothing? That you’re just... property?” Panting heavily, Izuku looked at Touya, really looked at him. His heart pounded in his chest, anger burning inside him like a fire. He wasn’t even sure who he was angrier at. Touya or himself. “You think I don’t know suffering?” Izuku’s voice trembled with fury. “You have no idea what happened in that facility! You don’t know how they treated us, what Mr. Blue did to us! I was broken over and over again, just to be molded into what they wanted. What some Alpha would want.”

His hands shook, and he wiped furiously at his eyes. "But no one ever let me break. Every time they hurt me, they made sure there were no scars, nothing to show what they did. You can't just look at me and think you know anything about what I’ve been through!"

Izuku paced back and forth in the frozen world, his thoughts racing. Touya’s words replayed in his mind. Destroyed yourself... for his approval? Izuku frowned, connecting the dots. “Wait... your Quirk... it hurts you?” His anger began to cool as realization hit him. He glanced at Touya’s frozen face. “And your father... stopped caring about you because of someone with a better Quirk? Are- are you talking about Shouto?” His voice softened, confusion and sadness mingling with his anger. "How could a parent do that? If you wanted to be a hero why would he stop training you just because of Shouto?“ "

His head began to pound in more ways than one as his Quirk began to strain again him. Just how long had he been ranting? Or did extreme emotions affect the duration he could hold his Quirk? A test for later, but he knew he’d have to release it at some point and actually have a conversation with Touya. Something he should have done earlier but had been too chicken to even try. 

Izuku let out a shaky breath, releasing his Quirk. The world came rushing back into motion. Touya blinked, momentarily startled, but before he could lash out again, Izuku cut in. “What did you mean, Touya?” His voice was quieter now, but no less determined. “What did you mean when you said your Quirk destroys you?”

Touya hesitated. His anger faltered as his gaze dropped to the ground. He looked... defeated. There had always been a layer of cockyness and indifference when it came to the eldest Todoroki son. But now Izuku could find none of that as the boy's eyes flitted around, seemingly trying to find a way to exit this conversation that he had only brought up out of bottled anger. But it seemed he was unable to find any way out of this corner he’d backed himself into.

“Shit” Touya cursed, tossing himself back into the sand. His head remained firmly down as he roughly threaded his finger through his hair, “Look I didn’t- I just-“ Izuku could see his face twitch in frustration as he tried to piece together some excuse for his behavior. “Okay…I think-“ Touya bit the inside of his lip, chewing nervously for a second before blowing out a shaky breath, “I think it’s time we talked.” 

“Okay…” Izuku agreed hesitantly, taking a careful seat next to the still-steaming teen. 

“My Quirk... it burns me from the inside,” Touya said quietly, running a hand through his hair in frustration. “I was never supposed to use it as much as I did. But... I pushed myself. Every day. I thought if I could just be strong enough... maybe he’d love me. But then Shouto came along. He was perfect—better than me. I didn’t matter anymore.”

Izuku’s heart clenched at the raw pain in Touya’s voice. He didn’t know what to say. He had never imagined that Touya, with all his strength and fire, had been crushed by his own father’s expectations. It was... heartbreaking.

The air was heavy with silence as Touya’s confession settled. Izuku sat there, his mind spinning with everything that had just been revealed. Touya’s words lingered, how his Quirk destroyed him, how he was cast aside when Shouto came along. It was all so much to take in, but through it all, Izuku felt an unspoken connection. He had his own scars, that while not visible on his skin were kept hidden under layers of forced smiles and bright-eyed optimism.

Touya glanced at him, the anger from earlier drained away, replaced by a hesitant calm. "That’s... that’s pretty much it," he mumbled, voice softer now. "I know it’s a lot, but... it’s the truth. My Quirk, my family, all of it."

Izuku shifted in his seat, feeling the weight of the moment. This was his chance. He had held back long enough.

"I’m sorry, Touya," Izuku began, his voice trembling with the intensity of his emotions. "I didn’t know. I really didn’t. But... you’re not the only one who’s been through horrible things."

Touya's gaze flickered, surprised by the softness in Izuku’s tone.

Izuku swallowed hard and continued, "When I was taken from my mom after I presented as an Omega, they didn’t just separate us. The facility I was sent to... it was horrible. They hurt me. They hurt everyone. The director, Mr. Blue, he... he had a Quirk that could control us. Our minds, our bodies. He manipulated us into thinking we deserved the pain. Every injury I had, he made me believe it was my fault. I broke bones, I got burned, I was whipped... and they always healed me right after, like none of it happened. But the scars, they’re still here. I don’t have physical ones, but I’m still carrying them."

Touya’s eyes widened slightly, his lips parting as if to say something, but Izuku wasn’t done.

"I know it’s not the same as what you went through, with your father and your Quirk. But the pain? The feeling of being powerless? I understand that. I understand what it’s like to have someone else control your life, to make you feel like you’re worthless." He paused, taking a shaky breath. "I didn’t tell you all this before because I thought maybe it didn’t matter anymore. I’m free now. I’m with Shouto, with your family. I want to help. But I also want you to know... you’re not alone in this."

For a long moment, Touya said nothing. He stared at the floor, his expression unreadable. But then he exhaled deeply as if releasing years of pent-up tension.

"Shit," Touya muttered again, rubbing a hand through his hair. "I didn’t know. I didn’t think... I guess I just thought you had it easy, that you didn’t get it. I’m…I’m sorry."

He finally met Izuku’s gaze, and for the first time, there was no anger or mockery in his eyes—only understanding.

"You... you deserve to know everything," Touya said after a beat. "Not just about me, but about all of us. Our whole messed-up family. You’re part of it now, whether you like it or not. And you should hear the rest of our story from Fuyumi and Natsuo. Shouto too." He let out a dry chuckle, the ghost of a smile tugging at his lips. "I mean, if you can handle it."

Izuku nodded, a small, relieved smile crossing his face. "I want to. I want to be part of this family. No matter what."

Touya reached out a hand to help him up, his grip firm but no longer aggressive. "Alright then. Guess we’ve got a lot more to talk about."

As they left the room, the air between them felt different. Lighter, somehow. The anger, the misunderstandings, the pain; it was still there, but now it was shared. And that made all the difference.

Chapter Text

Izuku and Shouto sat side by side on the porch of the Todoroki family home, the cool evening air a welcome relief after a long day. It was the end of their second term, and they had just wrapped up another grueling training session with Endeavor, coming straight from their final class. Since Shouto had brought Izuku home from the facility, Endeavor had conducted at least three of these tests, monitoring Izuku’s progress with an almost clinical intensity. Recently, he’d mentioned organizing collaboration training for them—though it was clear he meant placing Izuku strictly in a support role. Endeavor had framed it as ensuring Izuku could complement Shouto in battle without interfering, but the subtext was painfully clear to Izuku. To Endeavor, he was an Omega, someone inherently lesser, and the hero’s fixation on keeping Shouto in the spotlight only made it worse. Izuku wouldn’t have minded learning support skills, but the condescension was hard to stomach.

“Mom said she’d take us to the amusement park next weekend!” Izuku exclaimed suddenly, his enthusiasm breaking the silence the two had been sharing after the intense workout. He swung his legs over the edge of the porch, unable to contain his excitement. “You can invite Momo since I’m bringing my friends too!”

Shouto opened his mouth to respond, but a deep, familiar voice cut through the moment, making them both jump. Turning, they saw Endeavor towering over them, his fiery presence impossible to ignore.

“You’re not going anywhere,” he declared, his sharp tone matching the glare he directed at them.

Shouto’s annoyance was immediate. “You’re not even going to be here next weekend.”

“That’s because I have to attend the Winter Gala hosted by the Hero Commission,” Endeavor replied with a dismissive wave. His irritation at the obligation was clear. “As the number two hero, it’s mandatory.”

“Then why can’t we go to the amusement park?” Shouto pressed.

“You’ll be accompanying me,” Endeavor snapped, his tone leaving no room for argument. He caught the frustration growing in Shouto’s expression and added pointedly, “No excuses. And besides, you shouldn’t waste time on things like amusement parks. Your training has been slipping ever since you brought him home.” His gaze shifted to Izuku, cold and full of disdain. “If he becomes a distraction to your future as a hero, I’ll remove him. Understood?”

Shouto’s jaw tightened, and for a moment, it seemed he might argue, but then he sighed, his voice low. “...Understood.”

“Good.” Endeavor’s tone was brisk as he turned to leave, only to pause mid-step. Glancing over his shoulder, he added, “One more thing—make sure you’re properly dressed for the Gala. It’s no ordinary event. I know your family can’t afford anything decent,” he sneered at Izuku, “so I’ve arranged for Fuyumi and Natsuo to take you shopping tomorrow. Clear your schedule. I expect you to look like the mate of the future number-one hero.”

Izuku bristled at the jab. His family might not be as wealthy as the Todorokis, but they were firmly middle-class, and his clothes were hardly shabby. Still, he couldn’t deny that standing among the elite and famous, even his best outfit would likely seem out of place.

Yet, as Endeavor disappeared inside, Izuku felt a flicker of excitement despite the insult. A Hero Gala was a dream for someone like him, a once-in-a-lifetime chance to see the industry’s greatest figures up close. But when he glanced at Shouto, that spark of excitement dimmed. His friend’s grim expression spoke volumes. Shouto knew the hero world far better than Izuku, and it was clear there was more to this Gala than Izuku had yet to understand.

________

Izuku decided it would be easier to break the news to his friends before tackling the harder task of explaining to his mother that Endeavor had overruled her plans. His mother never hesitated to confront the number two hero at any opportunity, and while her courage as a Beta standing up to such an intimidating Alpha was admirable, it had caused more than a few gray hairs for both Izuku and Shouto over the past few months.

He’d messaged the group chat, stating he had something to tell them, but instead of allowing him to explain over the phone they demanded he met them at a nearby park they had apparently all be hanging out at. 

As expected, his friends weren’t exactly thrilled when Izuku announced the sudden cancellation of their amusement park trip. Surprisingly, though, Aalya was the first to take it in stride—a rarity for someone as quick-tempered as her.

“Well, it’s not like you have a choice,” she said with a shrug. “When your Alpha gives an order, you’ve gotta follow it. And the Winter Gala is a huge deal for heroes and their families.”

Her unexpectedly calm response seemed to defuse the tension in the group. The others, seeing the most outspoken of them take it so well, began to relax.

“What even is the Winter Gala?” Mallory asked softly. Though it was a simple question, Izuku couldn’t help feeling a swell of pride. Hearing her speak more openly around him made him feel like he was truly part of the group.

“It’s basically a fundraiser and popularity contest,” Izuku explained. “Heroes show up to flaunt how ‘great’ they are by donating as much money as possible. My mom says it’s a way for them to boost their rankings in the hero charts. It’s... the easiest way to get money out of most heroes.”

“That’s so scummy,” Persie said, wrinkling her nose in disgust.

Aalya rolled her eyes, her tone dripping with sarcasm. “Heroes aren’t always out there saving the world, you know. Sometimes you have to dangle a tax write-off in front of them just to get anything done.” Her cynicism was clear, and it wasn’t hard to tell how unimpressed she was with the hero industry.

Izuku felt a familiar urge rise within him—the instinct to leap to the defense of his idols. But as much as he wanted to argue, he hesitated. Lately, his own view of heroes had started to crack. Maybe it was because of Touya and Keigo, both of whom had suffered under the flaws of the hero system. Or maybe it was Aalya’s influence, with her constant stories from her mother about the darker sides of working with heroes. Either way, Izuku found himself unable to summon the same fervor he once had for defending them.

“Maybe we can just go another time,” Mallory offered hesitantly, her voice barely above a murmur. She glanced at Persie as if seeking approval for the suggestion. “I mean, it’s not like the amusement park is going anywhere.”

Persie frowned but nodded reluctantly. “Yeah, I guess. It’s just annoying, y’know? We’ve been planning this for weeks.”

“It’s not like Izuku wanted to cancel,” Aalya pointed out, giving Persie a pointed look. “Blame Endeavor, not him. He’s the one throwing his weight around, as usual.”

Izuku scratched the back of his neck, guilt bubbling up anyway. “I’m really sorry, guys. I didn’t mean for this to happen.”

Persie sighed, crossing her arms. “Yeah, yeah. It’s not your fault. I just hate having plans messed with. But Mal’s right—we’ll reschedule. Maybe in a couple of weeks?”

“That could work,” Aalya agreed. “Unless the great number two hero suddenly decides he needs to rule over your life again.”

Izuku chuckled nervously, though Aalya’s biting tone still stung. “I’ll talk to my mom about it. She’s the one who was so excited to take us in the first place. She’ll probably be okay with moving it, but... I’ll have to explain everything first.”

Persie smirked, leaning back with her hands behind her head. “Good luck with that. If she’s anything like you’ve described, Endeavor’s in for an earful.”

Aalya grinned. “Oh, now that’s a showdown I’d pay to see. Your mom versus that flaming jerk? My money’s on your mom.”

“Guys, don’t encourage her,” Izuku groaned, though he couldn’t help laughing. His friends always found a way to lighten the mood, even when he felt weighed down by stress.

Mallory tilted her head, her expression soft. “I’m sure she’ll understand, Izuku. And if you need us to help explain, we’re here.”

Izuku smiled at her kindness, feeling a warm sense of gratitude. “Thanks, Mal. I’ll let you all know what she says, and we can pick a new date.”

“Make it soon,” Persie said, wagging a finger at him. “If you make us wait too long, I might just show up at your house and drag you out myself.”

“Noted,” Izuku replied with a grin.

Aalya clapped her hands, standing up and brushing imaginary dust off her pants. “Alright, then. Let us know what your mom says. And in the meantime, try not to let Endeavor ruin your day too much, okay?”

“I’ll try, ” Izuku said, his voice more hopeful than he actually felt “although I’m more worried about him ruining Shouto’s day.”. As his friends began to disperse, laughing and teasing one another, Izuku stayed seated for a moment longer, preparing himself for the conversation ahead.

His mom was going to be very disappointed.

______________

Izuku stood outside the kitchen, hesitating. He could hear his mother humming softly as she prepared dinner. The comforting aroma of miso soup wafted through the air, reminding him of all the times she had cooked for him when he came home from school. He clutched his phone tightly, knowing this conversation was going to be tough. Taking a deep breath, he stepped into the room. “Mom?” he called, his voice a little too high-pitched.

Inko turned, her face lighting up as it always did when she saw him. “Izuku! You’re just in time. Dinner’s almost ready!” She gestured toward the table, where a neatly arranged tray of side dishes waited. “How was your day?”

“It was... okay,” Izuku said, already feeling the familiar pang of guilt. “Um, I need to talk to you about something.”

Her cheerful expression shifted immediately into concern. “Oh no, what happened? Are you hurt? Is it your Quirk? Did something happen at school?!” She rushed over, inspecting him as though expecting to find some new injury. Due to all his training with Touya and Keigo, he’s been gathering quite a collection of bruises. And unfortunately, he could only blame gym class so many times.

“N-no, Mom! I’m fine!” Izuku reassured her, waving his hands frantically. “It’s nothing like that, I promise.”

Inko breathed a sigh of relief, but her hands still hovered nervously over his shoulders. “Okay, okay. But you’re sure? You’re not hiding something from me?”

“I’m sure,” Izuku said firmly, the familiar pang of guilt he often felt for keeping his rain a secret from her, “It’s just... our plans for the amusement park this weekend. They’re, um, changing.”

Inko blinked, her brows knitting together. “Changing? Why? You’ve been so excited about this trip. Did something happen with your friends?”

Izuku shook his head. “No, they’re fine. It’s just... Endeavor invited me to the Winter Gala, and it’s sort of mandatory.”

The room fell silent except for the faint bubbling of the soup pot. Inko’s face went pale, her lips pressing into a thin line. “Endeavor,” she said quietly, her tone carefully controlled. “Invited you?”

“Y-yeah,” Izuku stammered, gripping his phone tighter. “He said it’s important for Shoto and his family, and since I’m, um, technically part of that now...”

The word “part” seemed to strike a nerve. Inko’s shoulders stiffened, and she turned abruptly toward the stove, busying herself with stirring the soup. “I see,” she said, her voice trembling slightly. “So that man thinks he can just dictate your life now? He didn’t even ask—just told you?”

“Mom, it’s not like that,” Izuku tried to explain, though he wasn’t sure he believed it himself. “I mean, it kind of is, but it’s a big deal for heroes. And I thought... maybe we could reschedule the amusement park trip? My friends are okay with it.”

Inko turned back to him, tears already welling up in her eyes. Seeing his mother dry wasn’t unusual but typically she tried harder to hide it from him when it came to the Todoroki’s.  “Izuku, you’ve looked forward to this trip for weeks. You deserve to spend time with your friends and enjoy yourself. You shouldn’t have to give up your plans just because someone decided you had to.”

Izuku’s heart sank. Seeing his mom upset was always hard, but knowing he was the one delivering the news made it even worse. “I know, Mom,” he said softly. “I’m sorry. I really wanted to go too.”

She sniffled, wiping her eyes on her sleeve before reaching out to pull him into a tight hug. “It’s not your fault, sweetie. None of this is. But I’m still going to have a word with him.”

“Please don’t,” Izuku said quickly, though he couldn’t help but admire her determination. “It’ll just make things worse.”

Inko pulled back, her eyes blazing with an intensity that Izuku rarely saw. “I don’t care how much worse it gets. No one gets to control my son’s life—not Endeavor, not anyone.”

“Mom,” Izuku said gently, resting his hands on her arms. “It’s okay. Really. We can go to the amusement park another time. And who knows? Maybe the gala will be fun! I’ll be surrounded by heroes, after all. I just wanted to make sure you were okay with rescheduling.”

Inko’s face softened, and she let out a shaky sigh. “Of course we can reschedule. I’ll do whatever it takes to make sure you get to have fun with your friends. But, Izuku, promise me something.”

“Anything,” he said immediately.

“Promise me that no matter what happens, you’ll never let anyone take away your dreams,” she said, her voice breaking slightly. “Especially not that man.”

Izuku nodded, tears pricking at the corners of his eyes. He wasn’t quite sure where this conversation had come from, but it was an easy promise to make, he’d been ignoring doubters for years to the best of his ability already,  “I promise, Mom.”

Inko smiled through her own tears, pulling him into another hug. “Good. Now, let’s finish dinner, and I'll see if I can get our tickets refunded.”

Izuku laughed softly, feeling a little lighter despite the weight of the conversation. “Okay, Mom.”

As they returned to the kitchen, Izuku couldn’t help but think about how lucky he was to have a mother who would fight for him no matter what. The Winter Gala loomed ahead, but at least he knew he had her support.

_____________________

The knock on the door was hesitant but firm. Inko Midoriya, startled from her evening routine, set down the dishcloth she was holding and hurried to answer it. Standing in the dim hallway was Touya Todoroki, his hands stuffed into the pockets of his jacket, his posture as closed-off as ever.

“Good evening, Mrs. Midoriya,” he said, his voice low, eyes averted. Despite his attempt at politeness, there was a raw intensity beneath his demeanor that immediately put Inko on edge.

“Touya,” she greeted with a small smile, though it faltered under the weight of his gaze. “Is everything all right?”

“I need a favor,” he said bluntly, glancing past her toward the quiet apartment as if he expected someone else to emerge. “It’s... important. I need you to come with me. To meet someone.”

Inko hesitated. Touya wasn’t like his siblings. While Fuyumi was warm and open, and Natsuo was quick to crack a joke, Touya was guarded, his words always carefully measured, his emotions tightly wound. The fact that he was here, asking her for anything, was enough to make her heart ache.

“All right,” she said, grabbing her coat without further question. Whatever this was, she couldn’t bring herself to turn him down.

They traveled in silence, the train’s rhythmic clatter filling the air. Inko’s attempts at small talk fell flat, met with curt answers or noncommittal grunts. When they finally arrived, Inko found herself standing in front of a tall hospital building. Panic gripped at her heart as she tried to figure out who she knew could be within. It couldn’t have been Izuku, she would’ve been the first person to receive the call if it had been. So who could it be that would lead Touya of all people to bring her out here? 

Touya led her through the winding halls with purposeful strides until they stopped outside a door. There was a plaque placed next to the door, the name ‘Rei Todoroki’ inscribed upon it, and it took a second for the name to click within Inko's mind. “She’s expecting us,” he said quietly before pushing it open. 

The room was modest, bathed in the pale light of a setting sun. Sitting by the window was a woman with snow-white hair and soft, weary eyes. Despite her delicate appearance, there was an undeniable strength in the way she carried herself. She turned at their arrival, her face breaking into a faint, cautious smile.

“Touya,” she said warmly before her gaze shifted to Inko. “And you must be Mrs. Midoriya.”

Inko stepped forward nervously, bowing her head. “Yes. It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mrs. Todoroki.”

“Rei,” the woman corrected gently. “Please, call me Rei.”

The two women sat across from one another, separated by the small hospital table, while Touya leaned against the wall, his arms crossed. Rei’s expression softened as she studied Inko, a flicker of gratitude in her eyes.

“All of my children have spoken of you,” Rei began, her voice tinged with both fondness and sadness. “Fuyumi says you’ve been a second mother to them. Natsuo calls you ‘the voice of reason.’ And Touya...” Her gaze flicked toward her son. “Well, the fact that he brought you here speaks volumes.”

Inko felt her cheeks flush. “I haven’t done much, really. I just... care about them. They’ve been so kind to my son, Shouto especially.”

Rei’s expression faltered slightly, and she exchanged a brief glance with Touya. “Shouto,” she murmured, her voice thick with emotion. “I haven’t seen him in years. I’m worried the boy still hates me.”

The weight of those words settled heavily in the room, and Inko’s hands tightened on the fabric of her skirt.

“He doesn’t hate you!” Touya quickly defended, getting down to the eye level of his sitting mother, “it's that man's fault!” he said in an obvious referral to their father, “he wont let Shouto come.”

Rei smiled, but it was clear she didn’t believe her son. Touya sighed, knowing a losing battle when he saw one. Quickly he got back to his feet and turned to Inko. 

“Mrs. Midoriya,” Touya began abruptly, his voice cutting through the silence, “you need to understand why things are the way they are. Why we are the way we are.”

Rei nodded, her gaze distant as she began to speak. “Enji wasn’t always the man you see now, though that doesn’t excuse him. When we first met…well. It wasn’t the greatest first meeting. But I thought I could endure the life he offered. I thought I could bear it for the sake of the family I hoped to build.” Her voice cracked slightly, but she pressed on. “But Enji... he only saw me as a tool. A means to an end.”

Touya took over, his tone colder. “He wanted a legacy, someone to surpass All Might. That’s all any of us ever were to him—projects. Shouto was his masterpiece, but the rest of us? We were just failures in his eyes.”

Rei’s hands clenched in her lap. “I tried to shield them from his obsession, but... I wasn’t strong enough. The pressure, the isolation—it broke me. I...” She swallowed hard, her eyes shimmering with unshed tears. “I hurt them. Hurt Shouto most of all. And for that, I’ll never forgive myself.”

Inko’s heart clenched at the raw pain in Rei’s voice, and she found herself reaching out instinctively, placing a comforting hand over Rei’s trembling fingers. “You didn’t fail them,” she said softly. “You were doing your best in an impossible situation.”

Rei looked up, her expression a mixture of gratitude and disbelief. “Your kindness,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper, “is something I’ll never take for granted. Thank you—for caring for my children when I couldn’t.”

Touya shifted uncomfortably, his gaze fixed on the floor. “She deserves to know the truth,” he muttered. “Her son’s tied to this mess through Shouto. It’s only fair.”

Rei nodded, her shoulders straightening. “Touya’s right. I wanted to meet you not just to thank you, but to ask for your understanding. The bond between Shouto and Izuku is something beautiful and pure. I hope it can be a source of strength for both of them, no matter what happens.”

Inko left the hospital that day with a heart weighed down by the Todorokis’ tragic history, but also with a renewed resolve. The bonds between their families were undeniable, and she would do everything in her power to protect not only her son but the fragile hope she saw in Rei and her children.

The memory still stung, even now, as Inko set the dinner table for two. When Izuku canceled their trip, citing Enji Todoroki’s interference, she couldn’t hide her disappointment—not because of the missed plans but because she understood, better than most, what that man’s shadow could do to a family. Perhaps for the first time, she realized how powerless she may be in stopping him from affecting her own family. 

___________

The Todorokis had their ways of handling boring things with a bit of humor, even when Enji Todoroki loomed large in their lives like a shadow they couldn’t escape. Today, however, humor was in short supply as Fuyumi and Natsuo stood in the boutique tailor’s shop, tasked with wrangling two fidgety eight-year-olds who clearly wanted to be anywhere else.

“Izuku, stop spinning!” Fuyumi called, her tone exasperated but gentle. “You’re going to make yourself dizzy and throw up, and guess who’d have to pay the cleaning fee?”

Izuku paused mid-spin, his freckled face flushed with excitement. “But Fuyumi, the floor’s so shiny! It’s like ice!”

Shouto, stood stiffly on a low bench, tugging at the collar of the shirt he was being fitted for. “It’s not ice,” he muttered, clearly jealous by Izuku’s antics and his ability to humor himself in any situation.

Natsuo crossed his arms, leaning lazily against the wall. “Let him spin. At least he’s enjoying himself. We’re stuck here no matter what.” His casual demeanor earned him a sharp look from Fuyumi, who was clearly trying to maintain some semblance of order.

“This is important,” she reminded him, smoothing out the pleats of her skirt. “Father wants everything to be perfect for the gala. You know how he gets.” Her words carried an edge that made Natsuo shrug uncomfortably, the weight of their father’s expectations as familiar as the air they breathed.

Izuku, meanwhile, had wandered over to Shouto and stood in front of him, his green eyes wide with curiosity. “Why do we have to wear fancy suits?” he asked, his voice soft. “Is it really that important?”

Shouto looked down at his small, polished shoes, then glanced at Fuyumi as if searching for the right words. “Father says it’s about appearances,” he replied finally, his tone quiet but matter-of-fact. “He wants us to look… ‘respectable.’”

Izuku tilted his head, the concept clearly foreign to him. “Respectable? But we’re just kids. Does it really matter if we don't look as put together as adults? Can’t we just wear normal clothes?”

“Try telling that to Father,” Natsuo muttered under his breath, earning a disapproving glance from Fuyumi.

“Respect is important to some people,” Fuyumi explained, crouching down to meet Izuku’s eye level. Her smile was soft, but there was a hint of sadness behind it. “It’s not about us, really. It’s about showing the world…something. But you know what? You don’t have to like it. You just have to get through it.”

Izuku frowned but nodded, his determination returning. “Okay. If Shouto can do it, I can do it too!”

The tailor, an older gentleman with a no-nonsense demeanor, approached the group with a measuring tape draped around his neck. “All right, young man,” he said, gesturing to Izuku. “Your turn.”

Izuku hesitated, looking back at Fuyumi. She nodded encouragingly, and with a deep breath, he climbed onto the small platform. As the tailor worked, muttering about inseams and fabric choices, Izuku tried his best to stay still, though his legs wobbled from the effort. Shouto watched from the bench, a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips.

“Don’t let him poke you with the pins,” Shouto whispered, his tone teasing just enough to make Izuku giggle.

“He wouldn’t!” Izuku replied, though his wide eyes betrayed a flicker of doubt.

Fuyumi sighed but couldn’t help smiling as the boys’ laughter filled the room. For a moment, it felt like a reprieve—a brief escape from the pressures they all carried. Even Natsuo’s usual sarcasm softened as he leaned closer to Shouto. “Don’t think this means you’re off the hook. We still have to practice how to smile for pictures.”

Shouto groaned audibly, and Izuku’s giggle turned into a full-blown laugh.

As the boys’ laughter filled the room, the tailor reached for swatches of fabric in deep green and silver, holding them up against Izuku’s small frame. “We’ll match his suit to the young Alpha’s,” the tailor declared, gesturing toward Shouto. The boys’ outfits would complement each other, with Shouto’s crisp white shirt and charcoal-gray blazer accentuated by a frosty silver tie and matching pocket square. Izuku would echo the design, swapping out the silver accents for emerald green to match his eyes.

The rich fabrics shimmered subtly under the shop’s lights, and though neither boy seemed excited about their attire, even Izuku couldn’t help but admire the way the colors popped against the dark material. “They’ll look like young gentlemen,” the tailor assured Fuyumi, whose approving nod masked the fact that she was just relieved the ordeal was nearing its end.

By the time the fitting was over, the boys were practically bouncing with relief. Fuyumi paid for the suits with the credit card Enji had provided, her movements deliberate and efficient, though her shoulders were visibly tense. As they stepped out into the brisk winter air, Izuku tugged on Shouto’s sleeve.

“Do you think the gala will be fun?” he asked, his voice bright with hope.

Shouto glanced at his siblings, at the small smiles they offered despite everything. “Maybe,” he said quietly, his mismatched eyes thoughtful. “If we stick together, it might not be so bad.”

Natsuo ruffled Shouto’s hair, a rare gesture of affection. “That’s the spirit, kid.”

Fuyumi wrapped her scarf more tightly around her neck and started leading the group toward home. “Come on, boys. Let’s get you some hot chocolate before we head back.”

As they walked through the snow-dusted streets, their laughter and warmth mingling with the cold, Izuku felt something solidify deep in his chest—a bond, fragile but undeniable. The Todorokis weren’t perfect, but they were his friends. His family, even.

Chapter Text

Every four years, the hero world paused to celebrate its own brilliance. The Winter Gala was more than an event—it was a spectacle. Heroes exchanged their uniforms for tailored suits and designer gowns, stepping into the limelight as celebrities rather than saviors. Yet beneath the dazzling facade, the stakes were clear: this was a chance to solidify the public image ahead of the crucial yearly rankings.

The grand hall gleamed like a frozen wonderland. Crystal chandeliers scattered rainbows across polished marble floors while towering ice sculptures of iconic heroes stood as silent sentinels along the walls. Soft strains of orchestral music wove through the hum of conversation—reporters, agents, and heroes all dressed in attire worthy of the most exclusive runways. The air was rich with the scent of champagne and sharp cologne, punctuated by the constant flashes of cameras reflecting off metallic accents in the evening wear.

The room buzzed with energy, a mix of camaraderie and competition. Some heroes mingled easily, their laughter ringing out as they regaled reporters with tales of valor. Others lingered at the edges, their smiles practiced and carefully measured. For every handshake offered, there was a calculated glance—alliances forged, rivals assessed. The gala was far from just a celebration; it was a battlefield where reputations were won or lost.

Video screens displayed heartfelt montages of rescue missions and community projects, a reminder of the gala's noble purpose: raising funds for disaster relief and public safety programs. Yet, the glittering auction items—diamond-studded memorabilia and rare hero collectibles—spoke to the privilege that permeated the room.

Not all smiles were sincere, nor were all applause genuine. In a world where rankings dictated everything, from salaries to sponsorship deals, some heroes came for more than charity. Beneath the polished surface, ambition and vanity simmered, barely concealed by glittering masks.

Izuku Midoriya’s eyes widened as he took it all in. It was hard to reconcile this world of glitz and glamor with the one he admired on TV. Heroes he had idolized since childhood laughed and clinked glasses, their personas larger than life. Yet, as he watched one hero subtly shove another aside for a better photo op, a seed of doubt took root in his chest.

As Izuku continued to scan the room, his attention was drawn to his side where Shouto stood, taking in the scene with a cool, detached expression. The tension in Izuku's chest eased just a little, grateful for the familiar presence beside him. The two boys were a striking contrast. Shouto with his calm, collected demeanor, and Izuku with his nervous energy, were clearly out of his element.

Shouto gave him a reassuring nod. "Relax. It's just a party," he said quietly, though his eyes flicked around the room, no doubt sizing up the political landscape of hero egos and media cameras.

Izuku offered a nervous smile. "I know, but it feels like... so much. Everyone's so... polished. I don’t know how they do it."

Before Shouto could respond, Endeavor—already in his element—moved to take his leave, his presence commanding attention even in the most crowded corners of the room. He shot a glance over his shoulder toward the two boys.

"I’ll be handling interviews with Ms. Endellion. You two stay out of trouble," Endeavor instructed, his voice as sharp and authoritative as always.

Izuku nodded obediently, though the small knot in his stomach only tightened as his father walked off toward the far side of the hall.

Ms. Endellion, a striking woman with long orange hair and skin that shimmered like wax, followed behind Endeavor. Her appearance was flawless, her attire a perfect blend of elegant professionalism and understated opulence, but there was no mistaking the weariness in her eyes. Managing Endeavor’s PR was a constant balancing act, and Izuku knew that her stress levels were likely through the roof on a night like this.

Izuku glanced nervously around the room, his hands tucked into the pockets of his suit as he followed Shouto through the crowd. The room seemed to grow even more suffocating as the minutes passed, and he couldn't shake the feeling that every pair of eyes was on him, judging him. His heart raced as he mentally willed himself to remain composed, reminding himself that he didn’t want to upset his father.

Shouto, despite his own discomfort, walked with quiet confidence, his posture relaxed but his eyes alert as he scanned the room. Izuku admired how easily his friend seemed to glide through the chaos, even though he knew that Shouto wasn’t any less anxious than he was. They both wore their nerves like a second skin, but they carried them in different ways.

"Maybe we can find some other kids," Shouto suggested as they passed another group of adult heroes, some of whom were laughing too loudly and others standing in small clusters, engaged in what looked like intensely political conversations. It was almost as if the room was full of walking power struggles.

Izuku nodded gratefully, relieved at the idea of escaping the adult conversations for a moment. "Yeah. That sounds... good."

They drifted further into the crowd, weaving between guests until they came to an open space by the drink table. Izuku caught sight of a few other kids standing near a corner, their heads down and their eyes furtively glancing around. It was a mix of relief and disappointment. As much as Izuku longed to speak to anyone around his own age, he couldn’t help but feel that familiar fear of making a fool of himself.

Shouto, ever the voice of reason, leaned closer. "It’s okay to talk to them. They might feel just as out of place as we do." He nudged Izuku lightly, a soft smile tugging at his lips. "You don’t have to impress them. Just... talk."

Izuku hesitated, his feet glued to the floor as if the air around him had thickened. His gaze lingered on the group of kids, a jumble of nerves and second-guessing keeping him frozen in place. Before he could summon the courage to step closer, movement stirred within the group.

A boy with short, messy hair and a pair of gleaming, car muffler pipes extruding from his legs marched up to them. His steps clanked rhythmically, every movement deliberate and forceful, like a soldier in parade formation. His voice, loud and crisp, sliced through the chatter in the room. Heads turned instinctively toward the source of the sound.

"You there!" the boy called, his finger snapping up to point directly at Shouto. "I recognize you. You're Endeavor's son, aren't you?"

Izuku’s chest tightened, his breath catching. The name hit the air with the weight of a hammer, and though Izuku was used to hearing about Endeavor, hearing Shouto addressed so directly, so publicly, carried a different sting. He glanced at Shouto, who stood rigid, his expression unreadable at first. But Izuku saw it. A fleeting moment where Shouto's composure cracked, his eyes darting toward him before refocusing on the boy.

The boy, undeterred by Shouto's silence, puffed out his chest, his posture proud and self-assured. He looked younger than both Izuku and Shouto, but his confidence made him seem larger somehow. His voice brimmed with admiration, uncontainable and entirely oblivious to the tension his words were brewing.

"Your father is one of the top heroes, isn't he? My brother, Ingenium, speaks so highly of him. He's truly an inspiration to all of us in the hero community. It's an honor to meet you, Todoroki." He said Shouto’s last name with a formality that bordered on reverence, as though addressing royalty.

Shouto’s jaw tightened, his eyes flickering with something Izuku couldn’t quite place. Annoyance? Frustration? Pain? He turned his head slightly, as if to avoid the boy’s eager gaze. Izuku knew all too well how much Shouto resented being tethered to his father’s name. Even if you ignored his father's general personality and treatment of his family. The unspoken weight of the Todoroki legacy loomed large, suffocating even.

"I-I’m not…well, I am but-" Shouto’s words started, faltered, and fell into silence. The boy didn’t notice. Or maybe he simply didn’t care.

"I saw your father stop that armed robbery earlier this week!" the boy continued, his voice practically glowing. "It was truly an impressive feat. Those villains didn’t stand a chance. You must be so proud of him!"

The admiration in the boy’s tone bordered on naivety, completely ignorant of the strained dynamic between Shouto and his father. To him, Shouto's lineage was a badge of honor, something to wear with pride.

Izuku, standing awkwardly at Shouto's side, felt sweat bead on his palms. He shuffled slightly, the urge to interject warring with his rising anxiety. He wanted to steer the conversation away, to say something comforting, but the weight of the moment froze him in place. His voice caught in his throat.

The boy’s sharp gaze shifted to Izuku suddenly, slicing through his thoughts like a blade. His cheerful demeanor dimmed as he frowned faintly, looking Izuku over with an appraising eye.

"And you…" His tone was no longer bright or animated, settling into something cooler, more dismissive. "I don’t think I’ve seen you around. Are you related to one of the younger heroes, or perhaps... a sidekick?"

Izuku blinked, the words landing with a weight heavier than the boy likely intended. It wasn’t an outright insult, but it carried a subtle edge that left him feeling small. He could feel heat creeping up his neck, embarrassment blooming like a crimson flower.

“I—um—no, I…” Izuku stammered, his words faltering under the boy's pointed gaze. His voice barely rose above a whisper. He glanced toward Shouto, silently pleading for reassurance, for a lifeline to pull him out of this uncomfortable moment.

Shouto noticed. His eyes narrowed imperceptibly, his jaw tightening as a protective edge sharpened his otherwise calm expression. He stepped closer to Izuku, their shoulders brushing—a subtle but deliberate gesture.

Iida’s expression softened slightly, though not out of empathy but curiosity, as if Izuku’s response merely confirmed his assumptions. "You’re quite quiet. It’s nothing to be ashamed of—support roles are just as valuable in a hero’s ecosystem." His voice carried the confident cadence of someone who was sure he was offering a generous compliment, completely oblivious to the growing tension in the air. The words, meant to reassure, instead felt like a quiet dismissal.

Izuku swallowed hard, trying to find his voice, but it felt like his throat was closing up with every second. His heartbeat thrummed loudly in his ears. He steadied himself, forcing the words out, his voice shaky but firmer than he expected. "I’m Midoriya Izuku," he finally managed, his hands trembling at his sides, but his determination showed through. "I’m here with the Todoroki family."

Iida’s eyebrows shot up in surprise, his gaze flickering between Izuku and Shouto before narrowing slightly. He nodded with the air of someone who had just pieced something together. "Ah, I see," he said, a small smile tugging at his lips. "That explains it. You must be related to one of Endeavor’s sidekicks, how noble of you to keep the company with the family of a sidekick."

The words seemed to jolt Shouto out of his stupor. His posture stiffened, his shoulders tensing visibly. A muscle in his jaw twitched, and for a brief moment, his hand hovered as if to restrain himself from doing something more. His voice, when it came, was cold and sharp, laced with an edge that could cut through glass. "Izuku is my mate," he said, each syllable deliberate, the weight of the declaration hanging in the air like a thunderclap.

Iida froze, his polite smile faltering for just a second. His eyes flickered between Shouto and Izuku, the shock is evident in the brief widening of his eyes before his features smoothed back into a practiced expression of what he thought was a polite surprise. "Ah, I see. An Omega, then." His tone shifted, taking on a kind of patronizing approval as if he were delivering a lecture. "How foolish of me, it has slipped my mind that your father already helped you select an Omega. My congratulations, it’s good that you’re already forming bonds. Omegas benefit greatly from strong partnerships, after all. It must be comforting for him to have someone like you looking after him, Todoroki."

Izuku’s hands curled into fists at his sides, his nails digging into his palms as his throat tightened. Every word from Iida felt like a pinprick to his dignity, each syllable stripping away a little more of his sense of self. The sting of being reduced to nothing more than an accessory, a sidekick in Iida’s eyes, brought a rush of heat to his face. It wasn’t just the dismissive tone; it was the way Iida had spoken about him—like he was someone to be managed, a fragile thing in need of constant oversight. The weight of those assumptions hung heavy on his chest, suffocating him.

Shouto took a step forward, his voice dropping to a chilling level. "Izuku doesn’t need me looking after him," he said, each word cutting through the thick air. "He’s here as my friend."

Iida blinked, clearly stunned by the force in Shouto’s words. For a moment, he simply stared at Shouto, his brain working to process the shift in tone, trying to reconcile the firmness in Shouto’s voice with his own understanding of social roles. He tilted his head slightly, his brow furrowing as if trying to decipher a riddle. "Of course, of course," he stammered, the words tumbling out quickly. He gave a nervous smile, but the sharp edge of his previous words lingered, unable to be fully erased. "I didn’t mean to imply otherwise. It’s just that… well, it’s important to recognize the natural roles we each play, isn’t it? Strengths and weaknesses, complementary partnerships—it’s what makes us great."

Izuku bit his lip, the sensation of pressure building in his chest as he struggled to hold back the flood of emotion threatening to spill over. He wanted to speak, to correct Iida, but the words tangled in his mind, unable to break free. He could feel Shouto’s protective energy beside him, like a shield he couldn’t see but felt with every inch of his body. The tension between them all was palpable, a thick, suffocating blanket over the conversation.

"I think we should get going," Shouto muttered, his voice barely a whisper, yet it carried an undeniable finality. His posture was rigid, the anger he had managed to keep at bay radiating off him in waves.

Izuku nodded quickly, his throat tight and his chest aching. He couldn’t escape fast enough. "Yeah. Let’s go," he murmured, his voice barely audible but laced with a desperate eagerness to leave the suffocating atmosphere behind.

Iida, still completely unaware of the storm he had set in motion, waved them off with an enthusiastic salute, his voice bright and oblivious. "Very well then! I look forward to seeing you both succeed in your family’s legacy! I’m sure we’ll be heroes of great renown one day!"

Izuku nodded, the motion automatic, but the knot in his chest refused to loosen. Something about Iida’s words lingered in his mind, a hollow echo that only deepened the unease. It wasn’t just the way Iida had spoken—it was the unspoken assumption, the belief that one’s worth could be measured by their family’s name, by the legacy they were born into. The weight of expectations, the invisible barriers that others built for him without even realizing it—those things pressed down on him, and despite the warmth of Shouto’s protective presence beside him, he couldn’t shake the feeling of being reduced to something less than who he truly was.

Shouto glanced at Izuku, catching the subtle way his friend’s shoulders slumped, the weariness in his posture impossible to ignore. It wasn’t loud or overt, just the quiet way Izuku seemed to shrink into himself. "Come on," Shouto said, his voice softening with concern. "Let’s get some air. There has to be a balcony or something."

Izuku blinked, startled out of his reverie. The sudden shift in Shouto’s tone was a welcome relief, and he gave a small, grateful smile in response, though it didn’t quite reach his eyes. "Yeah, that sounds nice," he murmured, the tension in his chest easing slightly. He followed Shouto through the sprawling venue, trying not to be too overwhelmed by the glimmering lights and the sea of impeccably dressed guests. The contrast between them and the polished crowd made him feel small, like an intruder in a world that wasn’t his own.

As they walked, Izuku’s gaze drifted over the guests mingling around them, feeling more out of place than he cared to admit. Then, something distracted him, a thought creeping into his mind that pushed the unease aside—Momo. He hadn’t seen her in a while, and he missed her sharp, calm presence. "Do you think Momo might be here?" he asked, his voice quieter than usual.

Shouto shook his head without hesitation, his expression thoughtful. "I doubt it," he replied, his tone a mix of matter-of-factness and mild amusement. "Her family has enough money to be here if they wanted. Even though they’re not a hero family, they get invited to events like this sometimes. But her parents are vacationing abroad right now. She mentioned it last time we talked."

Izuku’s heart sank a little, the disappointment sharp and unexpected. "Oh," he said, his voice carrying a trace of regret. "It would’ve been nice to see her." The absence of Momo’s quiet confidence left a small void that he couldn’t quite fill.

Shouto nodded in agreement, his lips pulling into a faint grimace as he glanced around the room. "It would’ve. But she’s not missing much," he added with a flick of his hand, his eyes sweeping over the crowd with a mix of distaste and indifference. "These things are always the same—people posturing, talking about how important they are." His words, while casual, held an undercurrent of frustration—he, too, felt the weight of the meaningless chatter that surrounded them.

Izuku chuckled softly, the sound tinged with a sense of disbelief. "Still, it’s kind of amazing being here. I mean, look at this place." His eyes roamed the glittering space, the elaborate chandeliers and the high-ceilinged grandeur that screamed wealth and influence. Despite his discomfort, he couldn’t help but marvel at the spectacle.

Shouto hummed in agreement but with a note of detachment. "Maybe. But it’s better when you can get away from all the noise." His voice carried the weight of someone who had learned to tune out the superficiality, someone who found solace in silence rather than in the hollow spectacle of the event.

After a few minutes of navigating the crowded halls, the two of them eventually found their way to a quieter part of the venue. They stumbled upon a balcony tucked away behind a velvet curtain, away from the hustle and bustle. The cool night air greeted them like a long-lost friend, a sharp contrast to the stifling atmosphere inside. Izuku took a deep breath, letting the chill settle in his lungs, feeling some of the tension in his chest slowly begin to unravel.

"Better?" Shouto asked, his voice still soft but carrying an air of quiet protectiveness. He leaned against the railing, his posture relaxed despite the tensions that were never far from the surface.

Izuku nodded, the faintest of smiles tugging at his lips. The tightness in his chest had loosened, but the knot in his stomach remained. "Yeah. Thanks, Shouto," he replied, his voice filled with gratitude, though there was still a hint of something unspoken hanging between them—something heavier than just the relief of the fresh air.

For a brief moment, neither of them spoke, the distant hum of the city below mingling with the quiet rhythm of their breathing. The soft rustling of leaves in the breeze filled the silence, creating a small, fragile bubble of peace in an otherwise chaotic evening. It wasn’t much, but it was enough—a moment of respite that they both sorely needed.

Unfortunately, their moment of calm was short-lived. A figure approached with a brisk but polite stride, breaking the delicate stillness between them. The sharp click of heels on the stone floor echoed in the night air, growing closer by the second.

“Excuse me, Todoroki and Midoriya,” a voice called, drawing their attention away from the stillness.

They turned to see Ms. Endellion standing before them, her posture tight with the weight of the evening. She looked even more exhausted than when she first arrived, the exhaustion evident in the sharpness of her gaze. Her vibrant red hair shimmered faintly in the light, a subtle heat being emitted from the strands of hair. An unmistakable sign of her family’s quirk. The faint glow in her hair made Izuku wonder just how close she was to losing her composure, her temper barely held in check.

“Sorry to disturb you two," she began, her tone calm yet firm. "But your father has requested that you both do at least one interview while you’re here." Her words were a gentle hammer, striking with quiet authority, and Izuku felt the air in his lungs evaporate as his stomach dropped.

Izuku’s stomach twisted into knots, his chest tightening with dread. His voice came out in a squeak, betraying his nervousness. "An interview?" he repeated, trying to keep the tremor from his words, but it was impossible to mask the sudden surge of anxiety.

Ms. Endellion nodded, folding her arms in front of her and regarding them with an assessing, almost clinical gaze. "Yes. It’ll be brief—just a few questions for the reporters. Mostly fluff pieces for the public, but you know how it is. Appearances matter." The finality of her words hung in the air, suffocating any hope of an easy way out.

Shouto shifted uncomfortably, his lips pressing into a thin, unreadable line. The weight of the situation settled over him, and his discomfort was palpable. “Do we have to?” he asked, his voice quieter than usual, tinged with reluctant frustration. It was a question born more of the pressure he felt than of defiance.

“Unfortunately, yes,” Ms. Endellion replied with a small sigh, her voice tinged with empathy, but there was no softness in her words. “It’s a good opportunity to build rapport with the media while you’re young. It’s not ideal, I know, but it’s part of the game.” Her expression softened for a moment, an almost imperceptible hint of understanding flickering in her eyes. She, too, knew what it was like to be caught in the machinery of expectation.

Seeing their unease, she continued, her voice a little gentler. "Look, I get it. It’s nerve-wracking the first time, but you’ll do fine. The important thing is to decide what kind of image you want to present." She paused, her gaze shifting between them, as though waiting for them to absorb the weight of her words.

Izuku tilted his head, trying to piece together what she was implying. "What do you mean by image?" he asked, his voice laced with confusion and curiosity.

Ms. Endellion crouched slightly, bringing herself to their eye level. It wasn’t condescending—it felt more like she was meeting them halfway, a deliberate gesture that conveyed respect. Her gaze softened, and for a moment, the intensity of the situation seemed to fade. “It depends on how you want the public to see you in the future,” she began, her voice steady and thoughtful. “If you’re close, like you seem to be, playing up your friendship—your bond—will win hearts. The public loves seeing young kids who are good friends. It’s relatable and charming.”

She paused, letting the words settle, before shifting her focus to Shouto, her eyes sharp yet calculating. “On the other hand, if you want to establish a strong power dynamic, it might be better for Midoriya to take a quieter role. Let Todoroki speak more. It’ll subtly frame him as the leader, which can be effective depending on your goals.”

Shouto frowned slightly at the suggestion, his brow furrowing as his gaze flickered between Ms. Endellion and Izuku. A brief flicker of discomfort passed through his eyes before he turned to Izuku. “That doesn’t seem fair. We’re equals.”

Ms. Endellion’s lips curled into a faint but knowing smile, one that conveyed both understanding and a quiet challenge. “And that’s perfectly fine. The most important thing is to be genuine,” she said, her voice softer now, as if she were sharing a piece of wisdom. “Just think about what you want people to remember about you. You’re writing the first page of your public story. Make it one you’re proud of.”

The boys exchanged a glance, the weight of her words sinking in, leaving a quiet understanding between them. Izuku could feel his heart rate quicken, but there was a sense of clarity forming in his mind, a confidence that came from knowing who they were together.

“I think…” Izuku began, his voice tentative but gaining strength with each word. He took a breath, his hands clasped tightly in front of him, the nerves in his stomach settling slightly. “I think we should just show them how close we are. That we’re good friends, and that we’ll be heroes together.”

Shouto nodded firmly, his posture straightening, as if the decision itself was one he could stand by. “I agree. We’ll do it together.”

Ms. Endellion straightened with them, her approving nod a quiet acknowledgment of their choice. “Good choice. Stick to that, and you’ll be fine. Keep your answers simple, smile when it feels right, and don’t overthink it.” She added with a chuckle, a slight twinkle of amusement in her eyes, “Oh, and most importantly, don’t yell at the reporters.”

She gave a long, bone-weary sigh before muttering, just loud enough for them to hear, “Like a certain flame hero we know…” Her tone was dripping with exasperation. It wasn’t clear if she intended for them to hear it or not, but either way, the casual remark left both boys smiling, the tension easing from their shoulders just a bit.

As they began to walk toward the interview area, the buzz of reporters’ chatter growing louder, Izuku glanced up at Ms. Endellion, feeling the weight of his nerves shifting into something else—a spark of bravery. He stood a little taller, his chest lifting with a deep breath. “Thank you, Ms. Endellion. For being nice, and treating us like… well, like adults.”

Her lips curved into a small but genuine smile, the lines of stress around her eyes softening for a moment. “You’re welcome, Midoriya. Just remember—being a hero starts long before you put on the costume.”

Her words were simple, but they hung in the air between them, heavy with meaning. They weren’t just about heroism in the conventional sense—they spoke to the essence of integrity, the importance of staying true to oneself, even when the spotlight was on.

The boys nodded, their shoulders squared, a renewed sense of resolve settling in as they prepared to face the reporters together. 

The bright lights of the cameras were nearly blinding as Izuku and Shouto stepped in front of the crowd of reporters. A hum of murmurs filled the air as journalists scrambled for the best angles, their pens poised and recorders ready. Ms. Endellion stood quietly beside the boys, her sharp gaze scanning the room, a silent but comforting presence. The boys knew she would step in if questions became too invasive or inappropriate.

Izuku felt a bead of sweat forming on his temple, but a quick glance at Shouto’s calm demeanor helped ground him. They were in this together. A reassuring nod from Ms. Endellion bolstered his courage just as the questions began.

A woman in a sleek navy blazer was the first to speak, her microphone gleaming under the lights. Her voice carried a practiced warmth, though her sharp eyes betrayed a readiness to pounce on anything newsworthy.

“Good evening, boys! We’re thrilled to hear from you tonight. Let’s start with something easy—how do you feel about being here at the Winter Gala?”

Izuku took a deep breath, recalling Ms. Endellion’s advice. He smiled brightly, his nerves momentarily forgotten. “It’s amazing to see so many heroes in one place. I’ve always dreamed of having the chance to meet so many heroes in person like this. It’s really inspiring. We’re both grateful to be here.”

Shouto nodded, his expression composed but sincere. “It’s an honor. Events like these show how heroes contribute beyond patrols and battles. It’s a reminder of the good we can do for society.” His delivery was cool and measured, but his words carried weight.

The reporters seemed satisfied, their pens flying across notepads. A man in a sharp tie leaned forward next, his smile calculated.

“Todoroki-kun, it must be incredible to grow up with such a powerful hero as your father. Do you feel any pressure to live up to his legacy?”

Shouto’s gaze didn’t waver, but Izuku could see the way his jaw stiffened. He just hoped the reporters hadn’t noticed too. “My father has high expectations, but I believe every hero sets their own path. My focus is on becoming the best hero I can be.”

Izuku chimed in quickly, his voice steady. “And Shouto’s already incredible. He works harder than anyone I know.”

The room buzzed with approval at Izuku’s earnest praise. Shouto’s faint, genuine smile didn’t go unnoticed.

The next question was directed at Izuku by a woman wearing a vibrant red scarf. “Midoriya-kun, despite being associated with young Todoroki for some time, there isn’t much information about you. Would you mind sharing your Quirk?”

Izuku hesitated, the weight of the camera’s gaze making his hands tremble. Forcing a wider smile, he replied, “It’s called Freeze Frame. I can stop time.” He stopped himself from elaborating further, recalling Ms. Endellions earlier advice to keep his Quirk’s limitations private for safety purposes.

“Freezing time sounds incredibly powerful. How do you handle the pressure of developing such an ability?”

Izuku’s smile faltered briefly, but Shouto gave him a small, encouraging nod. “It can be overwhelming,” Izuku admitted, “but I’ve had a lot of support. Shouto helps me train, and my family encourages me every step of the way. I think heroes are stronger when they work together, and that’s how I approach it.”

Approval rippled through the room. However, the red-scarf reporter leaned forward again, her tone sharper. “You say heroes are stronger together, but do you believe that holds true even when one of them is… an Omega?”

The question hung in the air, heavy with implication. Izuku stiffened, the word slicing through the otherwise supportive atmosphere. He felt Shouto shift beside him, a faint tension in his usually composed friend.

Before either could respond, Ms. Endellion stepped forward. Her expression was calm, but her eyes were steely. “Let’s remember,” she said evenly, her voice commanding the room, “that these are children. Let’s keep tonight’s questions appropriate.”

The reporter faltered under Ms. Endellion’s gaze. Izuku, however, found his voice, surprising even himself. “Being a hero isn’t about someone’s secondary gender. It’s about what’s in their heart and how much they’re willing to give to help others. That’s what matters.”

There had been Omega heroes before. However, those were mostly technicalities and were rarely if ever acknowledged as actual heroes. No Omega hero had ever even made it to the triple digits in ranking, and most were stuck handling paperwork or crowd control. ‘ Important tasks ’ Izuku reminded himself mentally. He refused to be someone who put anyone down for their job. No matter how boring it may have seemed to him. But he still wished for more for himself. 

Shouto nodded firmly. “Izuku’s right. We’re going to be heroes together, and nothing else matters.” Midoriya froze, not expecting Shouto to come out and say it even if they were heavily implying it themselves. He had been trying to dance around saying that he intended to be a hero, knowing full well that the reporters would be less than supportive of the decision. But it seemed Shouto had no such concern. Or perhaps he simply didn’t care what the rest of Japan thought of the declaration. 

The room stilled for a beat, and then the clicking of cameras filled the space, the reporters seemingly baffled and captivated by the boys’ united front.

The final question came from a quieter journalist standing at the back. “So you mean to say that you support your mate in being a hero? Even knowing the danger, perhaps better than anyone with your own father being such a high-ranking hero himself? Do you truly believe that an Omega can handle the position of a hero?”

The question hung in the air, tension crackling like static.

Izuku clenched his fists, his heart pounding. He wasn’t sure how to answer without making things worse, but he opened his mouth anyway—

“That decision,” a deep, authoritative voice interrupted, “is not for you to make.”

The reporters turned en masse to Endeavor, who had been standing silently in the background until now. His presence seemed to loom larger as he stepped forward, his sharp eyes narrowing at the questioner. “It’s not for any of you to decide, either. If Shouto has chosen his future, then that’s all there is to it. Whether Midoriya succeeds or fails as a hero will be determined by him, not by someone hiding behind a pen and microphone.”

The room froze, reporters exchanging uncertain glances.

One particularly bold journalist leaned forward. “But, Endeavor, don’t you think—”

“No,” Endeavor said flatly, cutting them off before they could finish. “And I’m not particularly interested in hearing your opinion on the matter either.  Interviews are over.”

The abruptness of his dismissal caused a ripple of murmurs among the crowd, but most reporters knew better than to challenge him further.

But even as some reporters lowered their equipment, others were quick to pivot. “Sir, please! One more question!” a persistent voice shouted. “What do you have to say about the rise of the vigilante group calling themselves the Briars Pack? They claim to be advocating for Omega rights—Considering your opinion on your son’s mate, what’s your position on this new group?”

Endeavor’s expression turned icy, his lips pressed into a thin line. “I said the interviews are over,” he repeated, his voice dropping into a dangerously low tone.

After the brief moment of silence that followed the last question, Ms. Endellion took control of the room with practiced ease. Her authoritative voice cut through the murmurs of the remaining reporters, her presence as commanding as ever. “Gentlemen and ladies, thank you for your time. The boys will not be answering further questions today.”

With the crowd slightly disoriented, Ms. Endellion moved with purpose, guiding Izuku and Shouto through the scattering journalists. Her steps were quick but measured, keeping them on course without seeming rushed. As they neared the exit, she flashed them each a rare smile, a subtle sign of approval. “Well done. You handled that beautifully.”

Izuku let out a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding, his grin spreading wide as he looked at Shouto. “We did it!”

Shouto nodded, the corners of his lips tugging up just a fraction, a rare expression of pride breaking through his usual stoicism. “Yeah.”

Ms. Endellion led them toward the large banquet hall, where the event was continuing. Once inside, she waved them toward their seats at Endeavor’s table, a corner near the front where the atmosphere was a little less frantic but still charged with energy. She gave a quick nod to the boys before moving off, her figure soon swallowed by the crowd. It was clear she had business to attend to, no doubt needing to reign in Endeavor before the flame hero caused another scene with the reporters.

Izuku and Shouto took their seats, the weight of the earlier tension slowly lifting as the noise in the room settled into a dull hum. They were still processing the interview, but the surroundings were a sharp reminder that they were only a small part of the much larger event unfolding.

A soft chime echoed through the room, signaling the beginning of the next phase of the evening. The auction was about to start.

The large projector screen at the front of the room flickered to life, displaying the words "Charity Auction" in bold letters, followed by the announcement that all proceeds would go to various causes supporting underprivileged communities, youth programs, and disaster relief efforts. A sense of purpose settled over the room, and the guests—many of them prominent heroes or figures from the hero agencies—began to settle into their seats, preparing for the auction.

As the lights dimmed slightly, a team of assistants began displaying various support devices developed by Japan's top engineers, including Multi-Function Tactical Gloves, Enhanced Vision Goggles, Impact-Resistant Armor Plates, and Mobility Boots. The audience buzzed with excitement as bidders raised their paddles, eager to claim these rare items. It was mostly newer heroes and sidekicks attempting to win these devices, as those higher on the hero charts already had personal developers or equipment tailored to their needs.

Though the proceeds going to charity was a nice thought, few were under any illusions about the true nature of the event. Save for the children in the room, most understood this was as much about boosting public image as it was about contributing to a cause.

Izuku watched, fascinated by the unique items on display, his earlier nerves giving way to a sense of awe at the collective good being done here. He exchanged a glance with Shouto, who was focused on the auction, but there was a quiet understanding between them—that, despite the noble cause, the event was incredibly dull. As young children in a room full of adults, they had little in common with the more seasoned heroes bidding. Endeavor, for one, made no effort to feign interest in the auction. He sat, arms crossed, tapping his finger on his bicep in impatience, his eyes fixed somewhere beyond the crowd.

The focus of the event soon shifted to the next segment: large donations from heroes and hero agencies. The screen displayed each sizable check, showcasing substantial sums directed toward a variety of charities. Izuku couldn’t help but feel a swell of admiration for the heroes who used their fame and resources for such noble causes. Some of the largest donations came from the heroes highest on the charts—names like All Might, Hawks, and Endeavor were all listed at the very top. Yet, Izuku couldn’t shake a strange unease at seeing Endeavor’s name so prominently featured. It was a reminder of the uncomfortable moments from the earlier interview when the spotlight had felt more like a burden than an opportunity.

It was a shame All Might had skipped the event. Izuku had almost cried when learning he wouldn’t get to meet his idol. But it wasn’t entirely surprising, as he had been avoiding major hero gatherings recently, choosing instead to focus strictly on fighting villains. His rank as the number one hero had never wavered. The people’s faith in him remained strong, as long as he continued to defeat villains with incredible strength and donate massive sums of his profits to various charities. He was the perfect image of what all heroes should be, an embodiment of both strength and selflessness.

As the evening’s formalities wrapped up and the last of the donations were announced, the event slowly began to wind down. The bustle of the crowd softened, and the two boys knew it was almost time to go. They gathered their things, ready to leave the polished event behind.

Izuku looked at Shouto as they stood. "It’s kind of amazing, isn’t it? All these incredible heroes in the same room, and they’re not just here to fight villains. They’re helping people in so many other ways too. Isn’t that great?"

Shouto gave him a half-smile, nodding. "Yeah. It was strange seeing how much my dad donated to the Abused Mate Foundation. I think he might have his PR team decide where the money goes..."

Izuku chuckled, but his smile faded as the weight of the evening settled in. They didn’t speak much on the way home, the exhaustion of the day and their own thoughts carrying them in comfortable silence. It had been a long, overwhelming day, but the sense of purpose they felt—along with the knowledge that they were a small part of something much larger—remained with them, quiet but steady, as they made their way back to the calm of home.

______________

The news broadcast opened with an ominous theme, the words “Breaking News” scrolling across the bottom of the screen in bold, urgent letters. The camera panned to a young reporter standing in front of a crumbling warehouse, its entrance marked by yellow police tape fluttering in the wind. Behind him, the glow of red and blue lights painted the scene with stark, eerie shadows that danced across graffiti-covered walls.

"This is Aki Nakamura, reporting live from the outskirts of the city," the reporter began, his voice a measured blend of professionalism and disbelief. "We are standing at the site of what authorities are calling one of the most enigmatic raids in recent memory. Late last night, an underground Omega trafficking ring was dismantled in what appears to have been a highly calculated and devastating operation."

The camera shifted to a wide shot of the warehouse. A large spray-painted rose dominated the crumbling brick wall, the crimson petals vibrant and defiant against the dim light. It was a haunting signature, offering no answers.

"Inside, officers discovered a dozen Omegas who had been held captive," Nakamura continued, his voice steady even as the gravity of the scene unfolded. "Yet, most of those captives are now unaccounted for, reportedly taken by the mysterious individuals responsible for this raid. Those left behind recall nothing but an explosion, followed by chaos."

The screen cut to a visibly shaken Omega woman, wrapped in a police-issued blanket. Her face was blurred, but her trembling voice carried the weight of her ordeal. "There was this loud noise," she stammered, her words broken and raw. "And then... nothing. When I woke up, they were here, and then gone, just like that. I don’t know who they were."

Returning to Nakamura, the camera focused on a police officer standing nearby, who declined to comment. The reporter adjusted his microphone, his brow furrowed. "Authorities are left with more questions than answers. Surveillance footage from the site has been mysteriously erased, leaving no digital trail of the operation. However, witnesses—including some of the traffickers now in custody—describe a small group of individuals with startling precision and unorthodox methods."

The screen displayed a composite sketch, its lines crude but clear: a figure clad in deep maroon and gray, their face obscured by a full-face mask intricately stitched with the pattern of carnations.

"One of these figures is described as a commanding presence, masked and cloaked in maroon, moving with an eerie precision that seemed almost choreographed," Nakamura explained. "Another figure wore a deep green and black suit, their movements shrouded in mist that clung to the air like smoke. Witnesses also report a figure in lavender and pale blue, their soft appearance belying an unsettling quietness, and another clad in pure white, leaving icy trails in their wake which remained unmelted even hours after the ordeal."

The broadcast cut to another sketch: a woman in dark violet and emerald, her eyes sharp and piercing above a mask shaped like a delicate flower petal. "Yet another wore a violet and emerald suit, described as vanishing into shadows only to reappear moments later, leaving no trace but stolen items and clues rearranged as if by magic."

The camera returned to Nakamura, standing beside the police officer who was clearly trying to inch out of the camera's view. "While some speculate these individuals are rival traffickers seeking to eliminate competition, their true motives remain unknown. The scene they left behind is as baffling as their actions: a spray-painted rose, a handful of captives, and a trail of unanswered questions."

The camera zoomed in on the crimson rose once more, its petals a stark and defiant contrast against the worn brick wall.

"As the investigation unfolds, authorities urge anyone with information to come forward. For now, this remains a story of liberation for some, terror for others, and an ever-deepening enigma for law enforcement. This is Aki Nakamura, reporting live. Back to you in the studio."

The screen faded to black, but the image of the rose lingered—a silent challenge, a symbol with no answers.

Chapter Text

Izuku panted heavily, his breath fogging in the cold air of Endeavor’s private dojo, which smelled faintly of polished wood, incense, and the lingering heat of past training sessions. The soft shuffle of their feet against the padded mat filled the otherwise silent room, broken only by the occasional creak of the wooden beams overhead. Sweat dripped from his forehead, stinging his eyes as he wiped it away with a trembling hand. His legs burned with exertion as he circled Shouto, every step growing heavier, while his opponent remained poised and calm—his stance balanced, his expression unreadable. It was a look that shouldn’t have looked so natural on an eight-year-old, and yet it suited Shouto with unsettling ease.

Shouto’s mismatched eyes locked onto Izuku, unblinking, their intensity making the younger boy’s stomach churn. Despite his usual air of indifference, Shouto’s gaze carried an unsettling focus, one that left no room for mistakes.

“It’s okay, Izuku,” Shouto said, his tone as even as his stance. His words were soft but lacked the warmth of reassurance, delivered with the same calculated precision as his movements. “Don’t push yourself too hard. Just focus.”

The words settled over Izuku like a weight. He clenched his fists, forcing his muscles to cooperate despite their protest. Darting forward, he aimed to close the gap between them. He threw a punch, putting all the force he could muster behind it—but it was just a fraction too slow, too predictable. Shouto moved like a shadow, sidestepping effortlessly. His hand snapped up, fingers closing around Izuku’s wrist with practiced ease. In one fluid motion, Shouto twisted, unbalancing him, and swept his leg out from under him.

The thud echoed through the room as Izuku hit the mat, the impact driving the air from his lungs. He groaned, a dull ache radiating through his back. For a moment, he stayed there, staring at the ceiling beams. They seemed to sway slightly, though he couldn’t tell if it was from the force of the fall or his growing frustration.

“Again,” Endeavor’s voice rang out, cutting through the silence like a whip. It was sharp, unyielding, and carried an almost palpable heat that seemed to press down on the room. He stood at the edge of the sparring area, arms crossed, his fiery presence casting long shadows on the mat. “Get up. You’re wasting time.”

Izuku scrambled to his feet, wincing as his knees protested. His limbs felt like lead, his breath coming in shallow bursts. He risked a glance at Shouto, whose expression was, as always, a perfectly controlled mask. But even though their time together hadn’t been long, Izuku prided himself on being able to see through Shouto’s ice façade. There was no malice in his friend’s gaze—only a faint warmth, subdued but unmistakable. Yet there was no hesitation, either. Shouto didn’t hold back. Not with Endeavor watching. And Izuku didn’t want him to.

“Try not to overextend next time,” Shouto said quietly. His voice softened, almost apologetic, as though he didn’t want to add to Izuku’s frustration. “You’re leaving yourself open.”

Izuku nodded, swallowing the lump rising in his throat. He knew Shouto meant well—knew his advice wasn’t a critique but an attempt to help. Yet the words stung, a reminder of the gulf that separated them. Shouto had been training for years, his body hardened by relentless drills and his mind sharpened by his father’s impossible expectations. Even in areas where he wasn’t as skilled, like hand-to-hand combat, Shouto’s discipline and years of experience eclipsed Izuku’s few months of sparring and gymnastics.

Guilt weighed heavy on Izuku's shoulders, pressing down like an invisible weight he couldn’t shrug off. He knew how awful Endeavor was, how the man masked his cruelty with the thin veneer of “training.” It wasn’t something to admire, and yet, Izuku couldn’t stop the bitter seed of jealousy from taking root. Shouto’s movements were sharp, decisive, and unyielding. Skills born from years of relentless pressure and punishment. Izuku hated himself for envying them, even knowing the terrible cost.

As he readied himself for the next bout, his hands trembled, betraying his unease. Sweat dripped from his brow, stinging his eyes, but he didn’t bother wiping it away. His mind raced, replaying the last fall in excruciating detail. He could still feel the hard mat slamming into his back, the air punched out of his lungs, and the crushing weight of Shouto’s knee pinning him down. Where had he gone wrong? What had he missed?

Izuku tightened his stance, forcing his legs into the correct position even as his thighs burned from overuse. His muscles screamed for rest, but he silenced their protest with a clenched jaw. He couldn’t afford weakness now.

“Don’t think. Just move,” he muttered under his breath, shaking out his arms in an attempt to rid them of the tension coiled in his limbs. He tried to drown out the creeping doubts whispering in his mind— You’re too slow, too clumsy, too weak. He needed to try harder, be better, but the gnawing fear that his best would never be enough clawed at him.

“Again,” Endeavor demanded, his voice low and commanding, cutting through the tension in the air. His crimson eyes narrowed as he watched the two spar.

Izuku grit his teeth, his body aching from the previous rounds, but he knew there was no choice but to obey. He launched himself at Shouto, fists flying in a flurry of rapid jabs. Each punch was aimed with precision, hoping to land even the smallest of blows, but Shouto was a wall of calm efficiency.

Shouto’s movements were minimal, each block a mere shift of his body. He didn’t need to exert extra force to defend himself; his counters came with a fluidity that Izuku couldn’t match. Every punch Izuku threw seemed to be anticipated, blocked, or dodged before it even landed. He could feel the sting of his own lack of control with each failed strike.

In a split second, Shouto moved—effortless and swift. Izuku felt the ground shift beneath him, and before he knew it, his feet were no longer on solid ground. With a quick sweep of Shouto’s leg, Izuku was sent crashing to the mat, the impact jarring his whole body. Shouto was already on him, a knee pressed firmly against Izuku’s chest, pinning him down.

“Your movements are too predictable,” Shouto remarked, his voice steady, almost detached. He didn’t show pride in the victory, just the cold, detached accuracy of someone who had seen this play out a thousand times before.

Izuku lay there for a moment, struggling to catch his breath as he stared up at Shouto, the sharp sting in his chest a stark contrast to the humbling defeat. Shouto’s hand appeared above him, an offer to help, but Izuku couldn’t bring himself to take it right away. He lingered, his hands trembling from exhaustion and the sting of failure. He didn’t want to look weak. Didn’t want to show how much it hurt to be so far behind.

After a moment of hesitation, Izuku reached up and took Shouto’s hand, pulling himself up with a begrudging sigh, his muscles screaming in protest. His palms were raw from the repeated contact with the mat, and his whole body felt like it was made of lead. He’d expected to be beaten down, but it didn’t make it any easier.

He turned his gaze to Endeavor, who stood across the room, arms crossed and his expression a mask of frustration. He was already shaking his head, clearly unimpressed by the display.

“Pathetic,” Endeavor growled, his voice cutting through the heavy silence. “If this is all you’ve got, you’ll never survive out there. You need to shape up, or I won’t have you dragging my son down.”

The words hit Izuku like a physical blow, more painful than the bruises already forming across his body. He’d expected this—Endeavor’s criticism was constant, a relentless pressure that weighed on him every time they spared. But hearing it stung all the same.

It wasn’t just the words. It was the indifference in Endeavor’s tone—the lack of care, the absence of any encouragement or guidance. There was no “here’s what you’re doing wrong” or “this is how you can improve.” Just disappointment, pure and simple.

Izuku clenched his fists at his sides, the nails digging into his palms, the pressure sharp enough to keep his tears at bay. His throat tightened with a mixture of anger and frustration. He wanted to scream, to yell at Endeavor, to tell him that it wasn’t fair. But the words wouldn’t come. All he could do was stand there, taking the criticism, letting it sink deeper.

It wasn’t just about the fight, Izuku realized. It was about something more. Something that gnawed at him every time he stepped into the ring. It was a battle against his own doubts, his insecurities, the fear that he wasn’t meant for this. That maybe, just maybe, he wasn’t cut out to be a hero. The voice in the back of his mind that told him he’d never be enough.

But even as those doubts threatened to consume him, there was something else. A whisper, faint but persistent: You’re not giving up. Not yet .

___________

The air inside the gymnasium was thick with the scent of chalk and determination. Izuku stood at the edge of the mat, hands pressed together in quiet concentration, his breath slow and measured as he centered himself. His heart pounded in his chest—not from fear, but from a bubbling excitement that seemed to course through his veins. Every day, every hour spent here felt like it brought him one step closer to something bigger, something more meaningful. He could feel it in his bones. Gymnastics wasn’t just about flips and cartwheels; it was about mastering control, precision, and mental resilience—the very qualities that would shape him into the hero he dreamed of becoming.

Three months had passed since he’d started training at the local gymnastics club, and Izuku had made steady, tangible progress. His routines weren’t perfect—there were still moments of imbalance, hesitations, and near-misses—but they were solid. He could perform the basic moves with more confidence, executing each one with a growing sense of ease. The forward rolls, the cartwheels, the handstands—once awkward and unfamiliar—had become second nature.

He could feel the transformation within himself as he moved through each routine. Inside the gymnasium, he was no longer the shy, unsure boy who had first stepped onto the mat. Now, he was confident, assured, and finally comfortable in his own body. While he wasn’t the best—far from it, in fact—he could see the improvement. The gap between where he started and where he was now might have seemed small to others, but to Izuku, each tiny step forward felt monumental. He knew it would take years before he could truly consider himself “good,” but that didn’t matter. The pride he felt in his own growth, no matter how incremental, was enough. It was the first time he’d truly felt seen and acknowledged for who he was and what he could do. Not just as an omega or as the mate of the son of the number two hero, but as Izuku Midoriya, an individual who was working hard to improve, to push himself.

“Good, Midoriya,” Coach Haruto’s voice rang out from across the room, calm and steady as always. His words were simple, but they carried weight. Haruto was the kind of coach who never seemed to rush, never lost his cool. His steady demeanor was enough to command attention and respect from even the most distracted of athletes. “That was much smoother. Now, let’s work on tightening your form on the landing.”

Izuku nodded, the quiet praise making him feel lighter, but it was the challenge of the next step that truly fueled him. His body, already primed for the next attempt, felt ready to meet it head-on. While each compliment made his chest swell with pride, it wasn’t the words that drove him most. What really motivated him was the growth he could feel in his muscles, the subtle strengthening of his core, and the improved timing of his movements. There was a quiet satisfaction in the way his body responded to each command with increasing fluidity and strength. Every practice felt like a small victory. Even his mistakes, which in any other aspect of his life would feel like monumental failures, served as learning experiences—lessons to help him grow stronger.

Today’s practice had a special focus: balance. Izuku had been working on walking the balance beam—a skill that had terrified him at first. The narrow, wobbly surface had felt like an insurmountable challenge. But now, after months of dedication, he could perform the basic routine with less hesitation. His legs no longer shook uncontrollably, and the overwhelming fear of falling had begun to fade, though it still lingered at the back of his mind. The difference was that now, the fear was manageable. In fact, there was a quiet pride that bubbled up every time he completed the routine successfully. Three months ago, he could barely stay on the beam for more than a few seconds. Now, he was mastering the fundamentals, gaining confidence with every step.

Coach Haruto’s presence in the room was palpable. It wasn’t just his experience or his knowledge that made him such a powerful coach—it was his subtle energy, the way he could make even the simplest challenge feel like a monumental task. His steady gaze was enough to keep Izuku focused, pushing him to reach further, do better, and surpass his limits. There was no need for loud cheers or excessive praise with Coach Haruto. The challenge was always enough. The pressure to meet the bar he set was motivation in itself.

“You’re doing well, Midoriya,” Haruto said again, his voice as even as ever. But this time, there was a slight edge of approval in his tone, an almost imperceptible warmth. “You’ve been consistent, and your attention to timing is setting you apart from the others. Keep this up, and you’ll make it far.”

Izuku felt a surge of pride rush through him. His chest swelled with something more than just gratitude—something deeper. “Thank you, Coach,” he said, his voice steady but carrying the weight of the words he often found difficult to say. His heart was still racing from the intensity of the practice, but now, the race of his pulse was one of excitement, not fear. His eyes lingered on the beams for a moment before he took a step forward, his gaze sharpening, his mind already focused on the next challenge. He could do this. He would.

As he mounted the balance beam once more, Izuku’s gaze flickered to Coach Akira, who stood observing from a distance. While Haruto’s commanding presence and intense coaching style often pushed him to his limits, Akira’s calm and relaxed demeanor was a reassuring constant during practice. Akira’s Quirk, Photographic Reflex, allowed him to replicate perfect technique in an instant, demonstrating flawless moves with a subtle elegance. The contrast between Akira’s easygoing nature and Haruto’s high expectations was something Izuku had come to appreciate. Haruto’s fierce drive kept him striving for excellence, but it was Akira’s steady hand that helped him make sense of every movement, breaking down even the most complex maneuvers into manageable steps. Akira’s patient observations had a remarkable way of catching small missteps before Izuku even realized them, allowing him to adjust with greater awareness.

Akira had always emphasized the importance of enjoying the journey rather than obsessing over perfection. His light-hearted remarks, often accompanied by a knowing smile, seemed to lift the tension in the gym, creating an atmosphere that allowed Izuku to relax. “It’s okay to stumble,” Akira would say. “It’s part of the learning process. Don’t let the pressure to be perfect take away the simple joy of improvement.” Those words always had a calming effect on Izuku. Whenever he felt frustrated or overwhelmed, Akira’s gentle encouragement reminded him that progress didn’t always need to be immediate. It was a gradual build, and taking his time was just as important as pushing himself.

Izuku’s mind drifted toward the bigger picture as he prepared to try the beam again. This training wasn’t just a hobby—it was a pivotal aspect of his growth as a future hero. His countless hours of research had shown him that balance, agility, and spatial awareness were indispensable qualities for anyone in the hero world. In a society filled with villains who used Quirks in unpredictable ways, a hero needed to be able to dodge attacks, navigate complex, hazardous environments, and adapt quickly to changing circumstances. The skills he was refining here, under the watchful eyes of both Haruto and Akira, would be the cornerstone of the hero he hoped to become. Gymnastics taught him the core attributes that his Quirk alone couldn’t provide. While time manipulation was powerful, it was the mastery of his own body—through agility, control, and precise movement—that would allow him to face whatever challenges came his way.

As he steadied himself on the beam, Izuku felt the familiar tension in his muscles, but this time, there was a calm beneath it. Every fiber of his body was attuned to the task at hand. His Quirk might allow him to freeze time in moments of crisis, but it was the discipline he was learning here—the focus and resilience—that would allow him to push beyond the limitations of his abilities when the stakes were highest. Time could be paused, but his body needed to act in real-time. His Quirk was an invaluable tool, but his physical preparation was what would give him the edge in the long run.

Akira’s voice, soft yet firm, broke through his concentrated thoughts, offering the grounding guidance Izuku needed. “Remember, Midoriya, your body knows this. Trust it. Take it slow, and soon it will become second nature.”

Akira’s words settled over him like a calming breeze, grounding him in the moment. He could feel his heart rate steadying, his focus sharpening. Haruto’s silent watchful support from across the gym buzzed in the background, a constant source of silent energy, propelling him forward.

Izuku took his first step onto the beam, feeling the slight wobble beneath his feet. The fear of falling, a familiar and nagging sensation, was still there, but it was now a whisper in the back of his mind, drowned out by the louder force of his determination. Every step, every movement, was deliberate—he trusted his body to carry him through. Today, he would master the beam. The small victories today were the foundation for something greater. Tomorrow? He would worry about tomorrow when it came. For now, it was enough to focus on the present moment, one step, one movement at a time.

He recalled one of his favorite books on hero training, a guide that had made a lasting impression on him. It was an old book, considered very outdated by today’s standards, but his mother had located it for cheap at a second hand book store and given it to him as a welcome back gift once he’d returned from the facility. Among many belated birthday gifts she had been saving. The author had emphasized a crucial idea: Not every hero will have a flashy combative Quirk to push their way through the day. A hero who cannot rely on brute force must find other ways to adapt. The best way to adapt is to train your body to move like water—fluid, responsive, and ever-changing. Izuku repeated these words in his mind, letting them sink in. The words struck a deep chord within him, reaffirming the reason he trained so diligently, even if his Quirk didn’t grant him superhuman speed or strength. His body, his movements, they were his tools just as much as his Quirk would be.

As he carefully walked across the beam, his mind sharpened to a singular focus, Izuku couldn’t help but reflect on the unexpected parallels between gymnastics and hero training. Flexibility, reaction time, stamina—qualities that seemed so simple in theory, yet were the very backbone of survival in the hero world. He’d been so disappointed when his mother had only allowed him to sign up for gymnastics rather than the martial arts he’d been eager to try. And his disappointment had only grown after every loss he suffered against his sparring with Shouto. It had been Fuyumi who had sat down with him one day and helped him begin researching how gymnastics could be just as helpful as martial arts when it came to heroics. It wasn’t just about the body being able to perform; it was about being able to react in the split second when danger presented itself. These physical skills weren’t just supplementary—they were foundational. 

Izuku’s body felt different now. His muscles, once stiff and resistant, had grown accustomed to the fluidity of the motions. As he carefully shifted his weight on the beam, he felt the flow of his movements become more seamless, more deliberate. Gymnastics had taught him more than just control—it had shown him how to adapt, to adjust his stance in the moment, to pivot at a moment’s notice. And that adaptability was just as important for controlling his Quirk as it was for mastering his physical movements. Each precise motion, each adjustment, was a step closer to understanding how to manage the fleeting moments of frozen time. It wasn’t just about freezing time—it was about moving within that freeze, adjusting in mid-air with the same level of control that he was learning to exert on the beam.

For a moment, his thoughts drifted to his Quirk. The ability to freeze time for short intervals was undeniably powerful, but Izuku had learned quickly that power alone wouldn’t make him a hero. Or at the very least, not a very good hero. His Quirk required careful usage. Using it all up too early would be detrimental to his career. What if he used it all to stop a robbery and then had nothing left to stop a hostage situation later in the day? He needed to have a way to be able to continue working even if his Quirk was unusable. Every second needed to be calculated, every move purposeful. It was like a delicate dance, where every step needed to be perfect. 

He reached the end of the beam, but his foot caught slightly on the edge, and for a split second, his heart was in his throat. With a sharp breath he flailed his arms around, trying to readjust his center of gravity before he fell over. Luckily, Izuku managed to correct his posture and save himself from a nasty fall, even if it was less than graceful or subtil. He managed to dismount, landing with more grace than he had three months ago, his body flowing smoothly into the roll. His coaches watched closely, eyes tracking his movements, and the approval on their faces was unmistakable.

“Not bad,” Coach Akira said, his usual calm demeanor giving way to a subtle smile despite his mistake at the very end. “You’ve made real progress, Midoriya. Keep up with your conditioning, and you’ll be handling more advanced routines before long.” His voice was light and encouraging, the praise warm but casual—as though it were just another natural step in Izuku’s journey. There was something about Akira’s manner that always put him at ease, even during the most grueling sessions. It was never about perfection; it was about progress, and Akira always seemed to see that clearly.

Izuku wiped the sweat from his forehead, his chest heaving slightly from the exertion. There was a quiet satisfaction that bubbled up within him. He wasn’t the best yet, and he knew there were many more challenges ahead, but the progress was undeniable. His body no longer felt clunky and awkward in motion. Every movement had purpose now, and with every training session, he grew closer to understanding just how powerful that purpose could be.

He glanced over at his coaches. Coach Haruto, ever the focused and serious presence, was stretching nearby. His posture was as rigid and disciplined as his demeanor, his eyes unwavering as he observed Izuku’s movements with quiet intensity. The older man’s stern exterior was a constant reminder that expectations were high, but Izuku had come to appreciate it. Beneath the no-nonsense attitude, Haruto cared deeply about his development. He was always the first to offer sharp critiques, but Izuku had learned that this relentless push was the key to his progress. Haruto’s demands for precision and consistency had challenged him to reach higher than he ever thought possible, forcing him to push beyond his limits and develop faster than he ever could have alone.

Then there was Coach Akira, who brought a different energy to the gym. Where Haruto was sharp and intense, Akira had a more laid-back approach, always finding the perfect moment to lighten the mood. His easy smile and casual demeanor often helped to ease Izuku’s nerves after a grueling practice. Akira had a way of reminding him that growth wasn’t a race—it was a journey, one that required patience, persistence, and, most importantly, self-compassion.

“I’ve been thinking,” Izuku said, taking a steadying breath as he caught both coaches' attention. His heart pounded with a mix of excitement and determination, though he kept his voice even. “I know my Quirk is strong, but not very flashy. And I can only use it for so long. But I’ve been reading a lot about how agility, balance, and spatial awareness are so crucial for heroes. And I think… If I can nail those skills now, they’ll give me an edge with my Quirk later. Maybe I’ll be able to time my movements better, or use them more effectively when the time comes.”

His words lingered in the air, carrying a quiet weight between them. Despite their constant encouragement during practice, Izuku rarely had personal conversations with his coaches outside of it. Coach Haruto, an Alpha, and Coach Akira, a Beta, were both supportive, but they weren’t the type to indulge in casual talk. Izuku had never had the best experiences sharing his hero dreams with Alphas, and while Haruto and Akira didn’t outwardly dismiss or belittle his aspirations, they didn’t offer him blind optimism either. Instead, they listened—giving him a space to express himself without judgment. They didn’t undermine him, and for Izuku, that was more than enough.

Coach Haruto stopped mid-stretch, his dark eyes meeting Izuku’s with a gaze that seemed to pierce straight through him. “That’s an interesting idea,” he said thoughtfully, his tone rarely so contemplative. “You’re right—skills like agility and precision are crucial, especially when your Quirk doesn’t offer a direct physical advantage. It’s all about control and timing. You’re already developing a keen eye for it. Keep applying that focus, Midoriya. When you start pushing the boundaries of your Quirk, that foundation will serve you well.”

Izuku’s heart fluttered at the rare compliment. It wasn’t often that Haruto acknowledged his Quirk, typically claiming it wasn’t his area of expertise. But every now and then, Haruto would surprise him by offering insight—always grounded in practical advice, never empty encouragement. The older coach’s words carried weight, and when he spoke, Izuku felt as though it came from a place of genuine belief in his potential.

Akira, who had been observing silently, adjusted his glasses and gave a small, knowing smile. “It’s a shame we can’t let you use your Quirk in here for practice,” he mused, his tone casual but thoughtful, “but if you find a quiet, safe place to try it out, it might not be a bad idea. You’ve already got a pretty solid grasp on how your Quirk works, which is great. But don’t rush yourself. Just like in gymnastics, there’s no need to perfect your Quirk overnight. Mastery will come with time. What matters now is the progress you’re making—both in gymnastics and in understanding your Quirk.”

Izuku’s smile deepened, his determination solidifying with their guidance. It was true—he wasn’t perfect, not yet. And maybe he never would be, but the steady progress he made with each passing day was what mattered most. With his coaches’ support, he was learning to embrace the slow, steady climb, to recognize that growth was more important than immediate perfection.

___________

Inko stood outside the small, dimly lit gym, leaning against the wall with a soft sigh. The echoes of Izuku’s determined grunts and the rhythmic tap of his shoes against the mat reached her ears, a steady cadence that mirrored his relentless drive. She glanced at her watch—his private lesson with Coach Akira and Coach Haruto was almost over.

A strange pull tightened in her chest. Her thoughts had been a whirlwind all day, caught between competing emotions—pride in her son’s unwavering dedication to gymnastics, and the quiet, persistent worry that he was edging closer to his ultimate goal. The dream of becoming a hero. That dangerous, reckless path he seemed drawn to with every fiber of his being.

Her gaze drifted toward the gym door, where the silhouettes of the two coaches—Akira and Haruto—moved around Izuku as he focused on a complex maneuver on the balance beam. It wasn’t the first time she’d questioned her decision to let him pursue this. But every time she saw him so focused, so determined to improve, her heart softened. Gymnastics was a safe space, wasn’t it? It was a sport that demanded precision, discipline, and skill—qualities that would serve him well as a hero, but not in the same dangerous way as martial arts or combat training.

Isn’t it better for him to focus on something that doesn’t involve violence? The thought tugged at her, heavy with guilt. He’s still so young. I promised him we’d wait until he’s ten...

Her reverie was interrupted when the door opened. Coach Akira, his calm demeanor unchanged, stepped out, dusting some chalk from his palms and onto his shirt. He looked over at Inko, offering a reassuring smile.

"Your son’s doing well today, Midoriya-san," Akira said, adjusting his glasses with a small chuckle. "He’s making great strides, even if he doesn’t always see it himself."

Inko returned the smile, but the knot in her stomach remained. "I’m glad to hear that... But... Do you think this is enough for him? He’s been practicing so hard, but... with everything going on in his life, I worry he’s pushing himself too far."

Akira’s expression softened, his gaze shifting toward the gym where Izuku was finishing up a complicated move, his face a picture of intense concentration. "I understand your concerns, Inko-san. But gymnastics is more than just about building a strong body. It teaches mental discipline too. Midoiya’s focus is incredible for someone his age, and while there’s still a lot for him to learn, he’s learning how to push himself in ways that will serve him well—not just as an athlete, but as a person."

Akira paused, a thoughtful expression crossing his face. "Unless... there’s something else you’re worried about?"

Inko smiled faintly at the mention of Izuku’s progress, but her worry didn’t ease. She glanced down at her hands, clasped tightly together. "I... I worry, Akira-san. I see how hard he’s working, and I know he’s growing in so many ways, but... what if it’s not enough? What if he’s pushing himself too fast?" Her voice faltered, her eyes flickering toward the door, where Izuku’s silhouette remained visible, determined and focused. "He’s only eight years old. He’s still my baby boy."

Coach Akira studied her, his gaze understanding. He had seen many mothers struggle with the same protective instincts, especially someone as dedicated as Inko. "Inko-san," he said gently, "Midoriya is learning to listen to both his body and his mind. His focus, his ability to push through when it gets tough... those aren’t just qualities of a good gymnast. They’re the qualities of someone who can succeed in anything they choose. Whether that’s gymnastics, heroism, or something else entirely."

Inko hesitated, a sigh escaping her lips. "I’m not sure it’s enough, though. I promised him we’d wait until he’s ten before starting martial arts or combat training... but he’s always talking about being a hero. And I’m afraid his dream, no matter how noble it is, will take him down a dangerous road. I just want him to be safe, Akira-san."

Akira nodded thoughtfully, understanding the weight of her concerns. "I get that," he said. "But you know, sometimes a child’s determination is a sign of something important. Midoriya’s commitment, his ability to focus—it’s not just helping him in gymnastics. It’s teaching him to face challenges head-on. That kind of mental resilience will serve him well no matter what path he chooses."

Inko’s gaze softened as she watched Izuku move through the gym, his every motion reflecting both growth and the fear that it would one day lead him to danger. "But he’s an omega," she whispered, her voice tight with worry. "The world is harder for him. People will always look at him differently because of that. He has so much potential, but I can’t ignore the dangers he might face. I don’t want him to get hurt, especially not because of something as dangerous as hero work."

Akira was silent for a moment, then gave a small, reassuring smile. "Midoriya’s not just any omega. He’s strong in ways that others can’t always see. He has the will to overcome challenges, no matter how hard it gets. His Quirk, his dedication—these things aren’t just about physical strength. They’re about adaptability, resilience. And gymnastics, with all its focus on mental discipline, is only helping him strengthen that. It’ll keep him grounded when things get tough."

He placed a hand gently on her shoulder, his touch a quiet but steady reassurance. "You’re doing an amazing job, Midoriya-san. You’re helping him grow, and that’s what matters most."

Inko’s breath hitched in her chest, her anxiety bubbling just below the surface, but Akira's words gave her a moment of peace. She lowered her gaze, her voice barely above a whisper. "I just want him to be happy... I want him to be safe," she murmured, her heart heavy, each word weighed down by the love she felt for him. "But... what makes him happy... won’t always keep him safe."

Akira studied her with a quiet understanding, his expression soft yet firm. "I know, Midoriya-san. But you won’t always be able to protect him. He’s safe here, in this gym, and he’s safe at home with you. But the world outside those walls isn’t as predictable. Life... life is going to happen, and you won’t be there to shield him from everything." He paused, his gaze turning towards the gym door, where Izuku and Haruto were finishing their session. "What you can do, though, is keep supporting him. Let him find his own way. You can’t control what will bring him happiness, but you can prepare him to face whatever comes his way."

___________

The sound of muffled feet scuffing against the dojo's mat echoed in the empty training room, the soft thud of their footsteps and the sharp, rhythmic sound of their breathing the only noise that broke the silence. The air was thick with the remnants of their sparring match—sweat clung to the space, the tension still palpable even though the fight had ended. Shouto stood tall, his chest rising and falling in steady breaths, each exhale slow and controlled. His clothes were rumpled, his hair slightly disheveled from the exertion, but his face remained composed, a faint trace of a smile tugging at the corner of his lips.

Izuku, on the other hand, was hunched over, his hands on his knees as he tried to catch his breath, sweat dripping down his face in thick rivulets. His shoulders sagged, heavy with exhaustion and frustration. The match had been grueling—he’d lasted longer this time—far longer than the last time they sparred. But even though he’d pushed himself to the limit, the result had been the same. Shouto had effortlessly dodged his punches, countered each move with a fluidity that seemed to come naturally, and then brought him down just as easily as before. It was always the same. No matter how much he tried, how hard he fought, he always ended up on the losing side.

Izuku wiped his forehead with the back of his hand, his movements sluggish. Standing up straighter, he tried to force a smile, but it didn’t reach his eyes. The weight of his disappointment pressed heavily on his chest, making his heart feel like it was sinking in his ribs. He could feel the sting of his own inadequacy.

“You did great, Zuku,” Shouto said, still catching his breath. The nickname slipped easily from his lips, and for a moment, Izuku’s frustration eased just a little. It had taken a while for him to convince Shouto to give him a nickname, but he’d finally gotten one. Even though Shouto only used it in private, it still felt like a small victory in the middle of everything else. “You lasted way longer than last time. I’m impressed.”

Izuku nodded, but the praise felt hollow. He tried to push the frustration down, but it sat like a lead weight in his gut, threatening to drag him under. Why can’t I keep up? he thought bitterly. He had been giving it his all—training every day, pushing his body in ways he never had before—but it never seemed to be enough. Every day, it felt like he was barely hanging on, always trying to catch up, but never quite managing to close the gap between him and Shouto.

He wasn’t sure what hurt more—the fact that he couldn’t measure up, or the sinking feeling that he was holding Shouto back. ‘ Shouto deserves someone who can stand beside him’ , he thought. ‘ Someone who can be as strong as him, who can protect the people they care about together. But no matter what I do, it’s like I’m always just falling short .’

Izuku opened his mouth to speak but found his voice had already faltered. He tried to swallow the lump in his throat but it stuck stubbornly there. Finally, he forced himself to say, “Thanks, Shouchan,” his voice quieter than usual, lacking its usual enthusiasm. “I’ll... I’ll get there.”

Shouto’s eyes softened at the quiet response, and the smile that had been tugging at his lips disappeared, replaced with something more serious—something more understanding. He studied Izuku for a moment, sensing the frustration behind the words, even if his friend tried to hide it.

“You will,” Shouto said firmly, his voice carrying an unspoken conviction. "And you’re not alone in this, Zuku. You’re improving every day. Just remember, it’s not about beating me—it’s about pushing yourself to be better than you were yesterday.”

Izuku wasn’t sure if those words would ever truly settle in. He still couldn’t shake the feeling that no matter how hard he pushed, he’d always be the one behind. But for the first time in a long while, Shouto’s confidence in him felt like it might just be enough to hold onto. Maybe one day, he wouldn’t be trailing in his friend’s shadow, but for now, he’d take what he could.

Shouto was about to say something else when Izuku straightened up, trying to shake off the disappointment that weighed heavily on him. He exhaled slowly, pushing the frustration down. “You know what? Let’s do something else! I’m tired of getting my butt kicked.”

Shouto raised an eyebrow, his gaze flicking toward Izuku. The tension in his posture relaxed slightly at the suggestion. "Like what?" he asked, his voice eager at the prospect of doing something other than sparring. His eyes gleamed with interest, the thought of a change of pace clearly more appealing than another round of hand-to-hand combat.

Izuku flashed him a tired but determined grin. “How about we borrow some of Natsuo’s video games? I’ve been hearing he got the new ‘ League of Mayhem ’ game... Maybe it'll be your turn to get your butt kicked.”

Shouto gave an exaggerated groan, rolling his eyes dramatically, though his expression was softened by the good-natured smile that tugged at his lips. His mismatched eyes glinted with amusement, a light flickering in his gaze, despite the certainty that he’d probably be the one losing this time. He wasn’t a stranger to video games, but he wasn’t quite as competitive as Izuku. Still, there was something undeniably fun about the idea of going head-to-head in a different kind of challenge.

“Fiiiine,” he replied, dragging the word out with mock reluctance. “I’ll set it up. But don’t get too cocky now.”

Izuku chuckled, grateful for the lighthearted shift in the mood. Shouto was right; maybe a break from sparring was just what he needed. A change of pace, a chance to let his body and mind relax. At least in video games, he wouldn’t feel like he was falling behind.

As Shouto made his way to the corner of the room where the gaming station was set up, Izuku started to follow, but then he stopped mid-step, his eyes narrowing slightly. Standing in the doorway, leaning casually against the frame with his arms crossed, was none other than Touya. Izuku hadn’t noticed him before, too focused on the lingering sting of defeat. But now that he did, he couldn’t shake the uncomfortable feeling that came with being under Touya’s gaze.

Touya was always hard to read—his expression often a mask of detachment which contradicted his laid back attitude—but today it was different. His stance was relaxed, but there was something in the way his eyes seemed to study Izuku, as if he were piecing something together. Izuku felt the weight of the older brother’s gaze, wondering just how much of the sparring match Touya had seen, and whether he’d caught on to the frustration that still simmered beneath the surface.

Touya's lips twitched slightly, though the expression quickly vanished, replaced with the usual unreadable coolness. But there was no denying the way his eyes lingered on Izuku.

Izuku hesitated for a moment, suddenly feeling self-conscious. Had he been watching this whole time? Things had more or less smoothed out between them from the initial blow up during their training session. But Touya had remained firm that they should stick purly to self defense during training. Especially since they still hadn’t told his mother about their training. He fidgeted nervously, but Touya didn’t move or say anything right away. Instead, he just stared at Izuku, his arms still crossed, his gaze steady and calculating, as if he was waiting for Izuku to say something first.

It wasn’t until Shouto’s voice broke the silence that Izuku snapped out of his thoughts.

“Want to join us, Touya?” Shouto called from the gaming station, already messing with the controls. “It’ll be fun. I know you’re probably better than both of us, but I could use a challenge.”

Touya’s lips curled into a smirk, his voice carrying a teasing lit when he spoke, “You’ll regret that challenge, little brother. I won't go easy.”

Shouto waved him off, unfazed. “Maybe, but at least I won’t be getting thrown to the ground.”

Izuku chuckled at Shouto’s teasing, knowing it was good natured. But his mind kept drifting back to Touya. Something about the way he’d been watching him was... off. He wasn’t sure if it was the way he was evaluating him or if it was something else entirely, but the feeling lingered. What was he thinking ?

As Shouto continued setting up the game, Touya pushed off from the doorframe and made his way over to where Izuku was standing, still a few steps away from the gaming station.

Touya’s gaze flicked briefly toward Shouto, who was still setting up the gaming station, before locking eyes with Izuku. For a moment, there was an unsettling silence between them. Then, with a soft exhale, Touya spoke. “You know, you really gave it your all today,” he said, his voice quieter than usual—almost more thoughtful, as though he was carefully choosing his words. “You lasted longer than last time, but you’re still getting outclassed by Shouto.”

Izuku’s shoulders sagged at the words, the weight of his repeated failures pressing down harder. He had tried so hard this time, and it still wasn’t enough. He didn’t need to hear it from Touya—he already knew how it ended. He knew how the match would always go, no matter how many times he tried.

“Yeah,” Izuku said, the words coming out almost like a sigh, the frustration seeping through his tone. “I mean... he’s always been stronger than me.”

Touya didn’t immediately reply. Instead, he studied Izuku with an intensity that felt heavy, as if he were carefully weighing every detail about the younger boy’s posture, his tone, the way he refused to meet his eyes for too long. His eyes were sharp and calculating, a silent assessment that went deeper than just the match they’d just had. There was something different in his gaze now—something far more understanding, almost like a shift in how he saw Izuku.

He pushed himself off the door frame with a fluid movement and took a step closer, his expression softening slightly, though his posture remained firm. His voice dropped lower as he spoke, quieter than usual, as if he didn’t want Shouto to overhear them just yet. “You don’t have to be like him, you know.”

Izuku blinked, surprised by the sudden shift in tone. “What do you mean?” he asked, confusion lacing his words. He had expected the usual dismissal or sharp comment, but this... this was different.

Touya let out a soft huff, almost like a chuckle, but it wasn’t mocking. His arms uncrossed, and he took a slow, deliberate step toward Izuku, closing the gap between them. “What I mean is,” he continued, his voice quieter now, “there’s more than one way to be strong. You don’t have to match Shouto’s speed, or his raw power, to make an impact.” His eyes softened, just a bit, as he looked at Izuku. “You’re tough, Izuku. You’ve got heart. But sometimes, that’s not enough. Sometimes, it’s about how you move, not just how much you can take.”

Izuku frowned, still unsure. “But how am I supposed to do that? I’ve been training as hard as I can. I even used some of the moves you taught me during practice, and I still can’t keep up with him. It’s like I’m always one step behind.” His voice faltered, a deep frustration welling up inside of him. The self-doubt that had been gnawing at him all day was starting to spill over. “I don’t know what else to do.”

Touya paused, watching him carefully, his gaze sharper now as if he could see through the layers of doubt and frustration clouding Izuku’s thoughts. Then, with a deep, almost imperceptible sigh, he softened. “I’ve seen you, Izuku. I’ve seen how hard you push yourself. How much you want to improve. But you’re not thinking about it the right way. You’re relying too much on what you already know, on what feels familiar, and not enough on improving your technique. You're relying on brute force and stubbornness, and that's part of it... but it’s not enough.”

Izuku swallowed, a knot tightening in his throat. He didn’t know how to respond. All his life, he’d been taught that strength was everything. His Quirk, his willpower—they had been his defining traits. But now, standing here, with Touya’s eyes piercing into him, he wasn’t so sure anymore.

“Hand-to-hand combat isn’t just about strength, Izuku,” Touya continued, his voice steady and clear. “It’s about strategy. You need to move smarter, not harder. You can’t just power through every fight. You need to learn how to read your opponent, anticipate their moves, and react before they do.”

Izuku’s eyes widened slightly, the realization starting to settle in. Strategy... technique... agility . It wasn’t just about overpowering his opponent or matching them blow for blow. It was about using his body in a way that complemented his heart. A way that didn’t just rely on sheer willpower.

Touya continued, his gaze steady as he spoke, “I’ve been thinking... maybe it’s time I take a more active role in your training. Defense is important, sure. But it’s time I teach you how to actually fight. I can help you with hand-to-hand combat, show you how to move faster, dodge better, react quicker. You’ve got the spirit, Izuku. You just need to sharpen it.”

Touya’s words settled in the air between them, hanging heavy with promise. He watched Izuku carefully, the faintest hint of a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips, though there was no mockery in his expression—just something akin to quiet confidence. “I’ve got a few tricks I can teach you. But don’t think it’s going to be easy. You’ll have to be patient, and stay focused. No shortcuts.”

Izuku stood still for a moment, processing what he was hearing. His mind was racing, and for a brief moment, he could hardly find his footing. He had never really considered asking for help from Touya before. The older Todoroki had always been there to lend a hand when needed, but while they had come to an understanding after the initial blow up during their training sessions, Touya would still occasionally throw up a wall to protect himself whenever he felt he was becoming too open. Izuku had always assumed he would only focus on self-defense, especially since neither of them had told his mom about his training yet. He didn’t want to worry her, and also knew she’d never approve. Especially after their deal about waiting till he was ten. But how could he ignore this chance?

Izuku opened his mouth, but the words stuck in his throat. “I don’t want to be a burden,” he murmured, his voice softer than usual, his gaze falling to the floor as his self-doubt crept in again. “Not to you, and... not to Shouchan…”

Touya’s expression softened, though his lips still curved into that small, teasing smirk. “Shrub,” he said lightly, the nickname carrying a mix of playful sarcasm and affection. The name, inspired by Izuku’s wild, fluffy green hair that resembled a tiny bush, was Touya’s way of easing tension—a casual gesture that cut through heavier moments. Izuku wrinkled his nose at the silly moniker but didn’t comment. Instead, he met Touya’s gaze, the words hanging in the air, waiting.

“You’re not a burden, kid,” Touya said, his voice unexpectedly warm. “You’re my little brother’s friend. And you’re a part of this family. And if you want to get better, I’m going to help you. But don’t think I’m going to go easy on you. You’ll have to listen, and you’ll have to trust me.”

The weight of those words hung in Izuku’s chest, but a flicker of hope stirred within him. This was different. This wasn’t about just doing his best and hoping for the best. This was something tangible, something he could work toward—something he could control. It wasn’t about brute strength; it was about precision, agility, and intelligence. It was about learning a new kind of strength, one that didn’t rely on sheer power.

He straightened up, the heaviness lifting slightly, and met Touya’s eyes with a newfound resolve. “Okay,” he said, his voice steadier now, his chin lifting in determination. “I’ll do my best. I’m ready to learn.”

Touya nodded in return, the faintest flicker of approval passing through his eyes. “Good. Then let’s get started next time we meet up.” He took a step back, his gaze flicking to the gaming station where Shouto was calling out to them, then glanced back at Izuku with a teasing glint. “But first...” he said with a mock serious tone, “How about a break before you go back to getting your ass kicked?”

Izuku couldn’t help but laugh, the tension in his shoulders easing just a little. “Yeah, I could definitely use one.”

“Zuku!” Shouto called with a grin, his voice carrying over to them. “Team up with me! We can take on Touya together!”

Touya gasped in mock betrayal, clutching his chest dramatically. “Betrayed by my own brother? How could you?” he exclaimed with over-the-top theatrics.

Izuku giggled, shaking his head as he picked up a controller. The familiar weight of it in his hand gave him a small sense of comfort. “Let’s do it, Shouchan! No mercy!” he said, settling next to his friend with practiced ease.

For a moment, the stress of the day faded, and Izuku felt a lightness in his heart he hadn’t realized he was missing. 

___________

The makeshift training space the boys had carved out within the rubble of Takoba Municipal Beach was a far cry from ideal. The air was thick with the mingling scents of salt, rust, and decay, creating a sharp tang that lingered unpleasantly in the back of the throat. Waves crashed distantly against the polluted shoreline, their rhythm muffled by the clutter of broken appliances, discarded metal scraps, and plastic waste that stretched endlessly across the sand.

Originally, they had started training near the cleaner edge of the beach, hesitant to venture too deep into the trash-strewn expanse. The fear of stepping on hidden shards of glass or jagged pieces of metal kept them cautious. However, after a few curious passersby stopped to question their odd exercises, the boys decided they needed more privacy. Reluctantly, they ventured further into the labyrinth of junk, navigating through piles of rusted car parts, broken furniture, and old fishing nets tangled in debris.

Finding a secluded spot wasn’t easy. The boys had to clear a space wide enough to move freely, all while avoiding cuts and scrapes. They worked methodically, using gloves to shift smaller debris and carefully stacking larger items into makeshift walls to conceal their training area. It was mostly Keigo and Touya moving the trash, as many items were far too heavy for the Izuku to even dream of moving on his own quite yet. The result was a small, roughly circular clearing nestled within the towering mounds of trash—hidden enough to avoid prying eyes but still open to the salty sea breeze that occasionally swept through.

Izuku stood at the center of their newly created arena, his sneakers shifting slightly on the uneven sand. The ground here wasn’t soft or inviting; it was a gritty mix of sand and pulverized garbage, uneven and treacherous underfoot. Around him, the jagged silhouette of the trash piles loomed like silent spectators, their rusted edges catching the fading sunlight.

He took a deep breath, trying to ignore the metallic tang in the air. His stance was still a little unsure, his movements unrefined, but his determination burned bright. This was far from a glamorous place to train—it wasn’t a polished gym or even a clean stretch of beach—but it was theirs. And the less interference or distractions they had to deal with, the better.

Touya stretched lazily, his movements deliberate, as though he had all the time in the world. He rolled his shoulders and cracked his knuckles, his sharp eyes fixed on Izuku. “Alright, Shrub,” he began, his tone light but edged with seriousness. The nickname, equal parts teasing and affectionate, was Touya’s way of keeping things casual—and keeping Izuku from getting too tense. “Here’s the deal. Defense? It’s great for staying alive. But if you actually want to protect someone? You’ve got to learn how to fight. Offense. Strategy. And sometimes…” His lips curled into a grin that was more wolf than man, his expression sharp and unrelenting, “it means fighting dirty.”

Izuku blinked, momentarily taken aback. “Fighting…dirty?” The words felt foreign on his tongue. Sure, he’d seen plenty of action movies where the heroes bent the rules, but those were dramatized fights for entertainment. In his mind, a hero fought with honor, skill, and fairness. Touya, however, knew the truth—and he also knew that Izuku’s purpose for learning to fight was rooted in becoming a hero. Yet, fighting dirty didn’t exactly line up with the image Izuku had been chasing.

“Yeah,” Touya replied, his voice steady as he began to circle Izuku like a predator sizing up its prey. Each step was calculated, deliberate, his movements exuding a quiet confidence that made Izuku’s pulse quicken. “Hero work isn’t a sport. There’s no referee to blow a whistle, no points to tally. It’s survival. It’s about winning or dying—and if you die?” He paused, his tone darkening. “So does everyone you were supposed to protect.”

Touya’s words cut through the air like a blade, sharp and unyielding. He wasn’t being cruel, but his matter-of-fact delivery left no room for argument. It was as though he was peeling back the glossy veneer of heroism to expose the raw, brutal reality beneath. “So forget about fair fights. Use whatever you’ve got—your speed, your size, distractions, even cheap shots. Whatever it takes to win. Got it?”

Izuku swallowed hard, his throat dry as Touya’s words sunk in. This was a side of hero work he hadn’t considered before—a truth that felt both unsettling and strangely exhilarating. After a moment, he nodded firmly, his determination outweighing his hesitation. “Got it.”

“Good.” Touya stopped circling, stepping back into a loose, almost casual fighting stance, though the intensity in his sharp gaze betrayed his relaxed posture. “Now, show me what you’ve got. And don’t hold back.”

The first exchange was over almost before it began. Izuku darted forward, aiming for a clean jab toward Touya’s midsection, but his movements were clumsy, telegraphed. Touya sidestepped with ease, his body flowing like water. Before Izuku could recover, Touya swept his legs out from under him in one smooth motion. Izuku hit the ground hard, the impact jarring as the air left his lungs in a harsh gasp.

“Well, that was something,” Touya said, leaning over him with a sharp grin that was somehow both amused and challenging. “Don’t be predictable. If I can read your moves that easily, so can your enemy.”

Izuku groaned softly, pushing himself up onto his elbows. “I’ll try harder,” he muttered, frustration creeping into his voice.

“Don’t try harder—think smarter,” Touya shot back, his tone firm but not unkind. “Fights aren’t about brute strength. They’re about strategy. Keep your opponent guessing. Use what they don’t expect against them.”

Over the next hour, Touya pushed Izuku to his limits. He drilled him relentlessly, teaching him how to feint, how to spot and exploit openings, and how to turn his smaller size into an advantage. “You’re fast,” Touya pointed out during a brief pause, his breath steady despite the intensity of their training. “So use that. Don’t go head-on with someone stronger. Move. Make them chase you. Wear them down.”

Touya’s style was unrelenting. Every hesitation, every misstep, was met with a swift punishment—a strike to the ribs, a quick sweep to the legs, or a light but stinging slap to the back of the head. Izuku hit the ground more times than he could count, his muscles screaming in protest, but each time, he got back up.

“Hesitation can cost lives,” Touya said after one particularly hard fall, his voice as steady as his strikes. “Don’t think. Just act. Your body knows what to do. Trust it.”

“How am I supposed to not think but also think smarter?” Izuku bit back, spitting out a mouthful of sand as he scrambled to his feet. His emerald eyes were red and watery, stinging from the grit that had clung to his face after a particularly harsh tumble.

Touya, smirking faintly at the fire in Izuku’s voice, tossed him a battered water bottle. “Rinse your eyes, Shrub. You can’t fight blind.” The nickname, a mix of mockery and endearment, only fueled Izuku’s determination as he quickly splashed water onto his face, trying to ease the burn.

The sting persisted, but so did he. Wiping his face with the edge of his shirt, Izuku looked up at Touya with renewed determination. “Fine. Let’s go again.”

Touya’s smirk widened slightly, but there was approval in his eyes. “That’s the spirit. Now stop trying to prove something and start learning how to win.”

By the end of the first session, Izuku was drenched in sweat, his limbs heavy and trembling from exertion. Every inch of his body ached, and grains of sand clung stubbornly to his skin and clothes. Yet, despite the exhaustion, something new stirred within him—a small, but steady sense of progress. He hadn’t won a single exchange, not even close, but he was beginning to grasp the essence of what Touya was teaching him. This wasn’t just about fighting; it was about surviving, adapting, and finding a way to bring someone stronger than you down to your level by any means necessary.

As they packed up to leave, Touya cast a sidelong glance at Izuku, a rare flicker of approval crossing his usually guarded expression. The teenager looked no better than his young protégé, his body streaked with sand and sweat, his hoodie torn at the sleeve. A small cut on his arm had reopened during their tussle, leaving a faint trickle of blood that he didn’t bother wiping away. Despite his disheveled appearance, Touya seemed entirely unbothered, even a little amused.

“You’ve got potential, Shrub,” he said, his tone carrying both a teasing edge and a note of genuine praise. “You just need to toughen up. But don’t worry—I’ll make sure you get there.”

Izuku’s breath hitched, both from exhaustion and from the rare acknowledgment. The words, simple as they were, planted a seed of hope deep within him.

___________

The days fell into a rhythm. Every Wednesday after school, Izuku would meet Touya at the beach. Their training sessions were anything but conventional. They sparred in the sand, their movements clumsy at first but growing sharper with time. They’d trip each other into trash piles, wrestle in the grit, and even throw small rocks to catch the other off guard.

“Anything can be a weapon,” Touya would remind him, his voice firm as he demonstrated how to use a discarded soda can or a jagged piece of driftwood to gain an edge. “You think villains care about playing fair? Survival isn’t about honor—it’s about getting back up and staying alive.”

Though the training was grueling, leaving Izuku bruised, scraped, and utterly drained, he found himself looking forward to it more and more. Every ache, every fresh bruise felt like a badge of progress—a physical reminder that he was growing stronger, more capable. And Touya’s unrelenting coaching, though harsh, gave Izuku the sense that someone truly believed in him.

___________

One evening, after a particularly rough session, Izuku sat on the edge of his bed, carefully wrapping an ice pack around his newest twisted ankle. The dull throb in his leg was joined by the familiar ache of a dozen other bruises and scrapes scattered across his body. He sighed deeply, the exhaustion of the day settling over him like a heavy blanket.

Glancing at the faint discoloration on his arms and the worn state of his sneakers, he couldn’t help but grimace. He was going to need better excuses for his mom. His usual stories about tripping over curbs or gym accidents were starting to sound thin, and the thought of her worried face made his chest tighten.

But as he leaned back, the ice soothing his swollen ankle, he allowed himself a small smile. Each ache, each new injury was proof that he was taking steps forward, even if they were small ones. 

___________

After spraining his ankle, Izuku was forced to put all his training on hold—both gymnastics and his sessions with Touya. It wasn’t easy to convince his mother he’d twisted his ankle during a bad dismount on the bars at gymnastics, but his status as a beginner worked in his favor. Mistakes like that were common enough, and with both his coaches and his mother buying the story, he was off the hook.

But the consequence? Three long, frustrating weeks of inactivity.

Those three weeks felt like an eternity. Inko was adamant about keeping a close eye on him, allowing him out of the house only for school and back. Any protests were met with her firm resolve, and Izuku knew better than to argue. He kept himself busy with homework and watching the news for villain attacks. While his friends, including Shouto and the rest of the Todoroki siblings, visited regularly, the lingering anxiety of falling behind still gnawed at him.

He couldn’t shake the thought: three weeks was a lot of time to lose. Shouto was already so far ahead—this delay only widened the gap.

When the doctor finally cleared him to return to his routine, Izuku could hardly contain his excitement. He was cautioned to take it easy for a while longer, but even with those restrictions, he felt a sense of relief wash over him. He was back in the game.

______

A few weeks after his return to training, Izuku and Touya wrapped up another grueling practice session at Takoba Municipal Beach. The air was thick with the salty tang of the sea, mingling with the metallic rust that seemed to permeate everything. The sand beneath their feet was churned and uneven from their sparring, littered with discarded items they’d repurposed as training tools.

Izuku collapsed onto the sand, chest heaving as he tried to catch his breath. Sweat trickled down his forehead and stung his eyes, but he didn’t care. Every ache and sting was a reminder that he was making progress again.

Touya stood nearby, hands on his hips, his usual teasing smirk in place. “Not bad, Shrub,” he said, tossing a bottle of water in Izuku’s direction. “But you’re still hesitating. That hesitation’s gonna get you knocked flat.”

Izuku caught the bottle, unscrewing the cap with trembling hands. Before he could respond, a familiar voice rang out, cutting through the sound of the waves crashing against the shore.

“Not bad, kid. But Touya’s right. Not to mention your footwork is still sloppy.”

Izuku turned sharply, his eyes widening in surprise. High up on one of the towering piles of trash, Keigo perched like a bird surveying its domain, his trademark grin in place. His golden eyes sparkled with their usual mischief, but there was a sharpness to his gaze that reminded Izuku why he was top of his class at Shiketsu High School.

“Keigo!” Izuku panted, wiping his brow with the sleeve of his hoodie. “What are you doing here?”

Keigo leapt down with effortless grace, landing lightly a few feet away, a couple of feathers moving to help slow his descent without moving the rest of his wings. He straightened and dusted himself off, his grin never faltering. “Just checking in,” he said casually. “I got back from my internship and heard from Touya that you’ve been getting your butt handed to you on a regular basis. Thought I’d swing by, see if you’re up for a challenge.” He shrugged off his jacket, tossing it onto a nearby crate. “And maybe throw in some pointers while I’m at it.”

Touya snorted, crossing his arms over his chest. “As long as you don’t go easy on him.”

Keigo’s grin widened, his tone playful but laced with seriousness. “Easy? Don’t insult me, Touya. The kid’s got potential—no sense in babying him.” He turned to Izuku, cracking his knuckles. “Alright, kid. Show me what you’ve got.”

Izuku stared for a moment, equal parts nervous and exhilarated. Sparring with Touya was one thing, but going up against Keigo? It felt like stepping into a whole new arena. He took a deep breath, steadying himself as he climbed to his feet. His body ached, but his resolve burned brighter.

“Okay,” he said, his voice steady despite the butterflies in his stomach. “I’m ready.”

Keigo’s grin turned sharp. “Good. Let’s see if you can keep up.”

Touya leaned back against a pile of junk, arms still crossed, watching as the two squared off. “This should be interesting,” he muttered to himself, a faint smirk tugging at his lips.

As Keigo shifted into a ready stance, his golden eyes locked onto Izuku’s, Izuku felt the weight of the challenge ahead. But alongside the nerves, there was something else—a spark of determination. He wouldn’t back down. Not now.

The sparring session was about to reach a whole new level.

______

What followed was a whirlwind of movement unlike anything Izuku had faced before. Hawks’ fighting style was in stark contrast to Touya’s.Where Touya fought with raw aggression, sharp cunning, and relentless intensity, Hawks moved like a feather caught in the wind—swift, unpredictable, and effortlessly fluid. Sparring with him wasn’t just a physical challenge; it was a mental puzzle, each strike a piece to decode and anticipate.

“Pay attention,” Hawks called out, his voice laced with playful confidence. In a flash, he darted forward, tapping Izuku lightly on the shoulder before retreating several paces away. By the time Izuku registered the contact, Hawks was already smirking from a safe distance. “Your opponent’s body tells you everything. Watch how I shift my weight—there’s your cue to react.”

Izuku wiped the sweat from his brow, his eyes narrowing in concentration as he tried to track Hawks’ every movement. His body ached from hours of training, but his resolve burned brighter with every failed attempt to land a counter. This wasn’t just a test of endurance; it was a battle of wits, demanding him to think faster, read deeper, and react sharper than ever before.

______

Keigo’s lessons were a sharp contrast to Touya’s—more unorthodox, and far more dangerous. While Touya had always kept their sparring contained to a relatively safe, cleared-out circle of sand, Hawks pushed them to their limits by having them fight amid the piles of debris that littered Takoba Municipal Beach. The trash-ridden landscape provided plenty of obstacles, forcing them to think on their feet and adapt.

“Real fights don’t happen in neat little circles,” Hawks had said, motioning to the scattered piles of trash that surrounded them like an ever-present battlefield. “You’ve got to learn to fight in the chaos, where the environment itself can be just as dangerous as your opponent.”

The chaos of the beach was relentless. Jagged pieces of broken bottles, twisted metal scraps, and half-buried wood sticks made every movement dangerous. It wasn’t just about punching or blocking anymore. It was about surviving the unpredictable terrain, using the environment to their advantage or avoiding its hazards.

Izuku’s first few sessions with Hawks were a blur of half-forgotten techniques and instinctive dodges. But the most unexpected challenge came when Hawks, always looking for an edge, would try to use debris as weapons—rocks, metal shards, anything that could fly through the air to distract or damage them.

On one occasion, Hawks wound up to throw a piece of twisted metal in Izuku’s direction, and Touya immediately stepped in, his voice sharp with concern. “If Inko finds out we’re training in a junkyard, I’m dead,” he’d grumbled, glaring at Keigo with a mix of disbelief and annoyance. “But if she finds out we’re throwing rusty metal at each other? I’ll be extra dead.”

Keigo had simply shrugged, flashing a grin. “I’ll make sure it’s just soft debris next time, alright?” But the moment passed without incident, though the tension never fully left. Even without the flying projectiles, training with Hawks was far from easy. The chaotic terrain, combined with Hawks’ unpredictable teaching style, made every session feel like a battle for survival.

Izuku quickly learned that his normal training clothes wouldn’t cut it. He double-layered his clothing to protect himself from scrapes, bruises, and the occasional twisted scrap of metal. After each session, his body would be covered in fresh marks—bruises, cuts, and raw hands—but there was a fierce kind of satisfaction that came with the pain. He could feel himself growing stronger, his muscles becoming more accustomed to the punishing nature of their training. Every bruise seemed to be proof of his progress.

One afternoon, after a particularly brutal session, Izuku trudged home with his head held high, despite the aches that slowed his steps. His hands were scraped raw from the constant impact, and his body felt like it had been through a war zone. But amidst the soreness, he couldn’t help but smile. This was the kind of progress he’d been longing for—he was becoming faster, more adaptable, and better equipped to handle whatever came his way. With the guidance of both Touya and Hawks, he knew he was on the right path.

______

Every once in a while, Touya had a bad day.

Today's training session had been particularly brutal. Izuku's muscles screamed with each movement, his limbs growing heavier as though made of lead. They had been sparring for over two hours now, and every second felt like it was dragging him deeper into exhaustion. Still, Touya pushed him relentlessly, demanding more, faster, harder, as if every mistake was an unforgivable sin.

"Come on, Izuku, get up!" Touya’s voice cracked through the air, sharp and biting. Izuku's body ached from head to toe, his chest heaving with the effort to breathe. His mind was foggy from the constant rush of adrenaline, and yet, Touya’s frustration only seemed to grow. "You’ve gotta be quicker than that. What are you waiting for?"

Izuku staggered, pushing himself up with trembling arms, sweat pouring down his face, stinging his eyes. His hands shook, and he could barely catch his breath. The words he wanted to say—questions, protests, or even just a breath of air—stuck in his throat, swallowed by the pressure to keep up. He had no choice but to try again. He couldn’t let Touya down. Not now.

But then, something shifted in the air. Touya’s eyes darkened, narrowing in a way that sent a cold shiver down Izuku's spine. His jaw clenched tight, his fists balling with a visible tension that rippled through his body. "Are you really this weak?" Touya snapped, his tone hard, each word biting. "Don’t you want to be better than Shouto? He wouldn’t be on the ground like this. How do you expect to ever measure up if you can’t even handle this much?!"

Izuku froze, his heart skipping a beat. The words cut deeper than anything physical. This wasn’t the Touya he knew. The older teen’s usual teasing, the playful edge to his attitude, had been replaced by something colder, sharper. And as the pressure of his anger mounted, Izuku couldn’t help but feel the fear rising in his chest, despite himself.

Every part of Izuku’s training had been pushing him to keep up with Shouto, to be his equal, to prove his worth. But it felt impossible to do that when he was constantly falling short, when he could barely keep pace. He wasn’t like them. Not physically, not yet. And this side of Touya, the anger simmering beneath the surface, made him feel smaller than ever.

Izuku felt himself shrink under Touya's gaze, as though he were a failure in front of someone he cared about. He had always thought of Touya as his older brother figure, someone who would push him to be better—but this, this side of him was different. It wasn’t the first time he had seen Touya lose control, but each time it left him feeling like there was a distance between them, something dark that he didn’t know how to reach.

Then, a calm voice cut through the tension.

"Hey, Touya," Keigo called out, his voice surprisingly steady, even in the face of Touya's rising anger. "Chill. He’s giving it his all. You’re pushing him too hard."

Touya snapped his head towards Keigo, fists still clenched, his body stiff with barely-contained fury. The tension in the air thickened, crackling like static, but Keigo remained unmoved. His eyes were steady, his posture unbothered, even as Touya’s anger seemed ready to explode.

"You can’t burn him out," Keigo continued, his voice not soft, but carrying an unmistakable authority. "If you push him too far, it’s not gonna help anyone. You’re not teaching him to fight—you’re teaching him to fear you."

The silence stretched for a moment, Touya’s chest rising and falling with the weight of his breath. Izuku stood frozen, too afraid to move, watching as the older teen’s expression twisted with frustration, before something in him seemed to cool. The fury in his eyes started to dim, but the intensity remained.

"Yeah, yeah," he muttered, stepping back, still visibly frustrated. He shot Izuku a look, his expression softer now, though there was a flicker of regret and embarrassment in his eyes. "Don’t expect me to go easy on you next time, Shrub."

Izuku nodded quickly, his heart still pounding in his chest. He didn’t like seeing this side of Touya—this unrestrained anger. He had always thought of him as a big brother, someone who pushed him to be better. But he couldn’t deny that sometimes he became someone who would make him feel afraid.

Keigo walked over to Izuku with a soft, reassuring smile, his hand ruffling the younger boy’s hair in an almost brotherly gesture. "You did great, kid," he said, his tone light and warm. "Just remember, it's all about balance. Don’t let Touya’s temper get in your head."

Izuku tried to return the smile, but it felt strained, the knot in his stomach tightening with the memory of Touya’s anger. He nodded slowly, though his mind replayed the scene over and over—Touya’s raised voice, the harshness in his words, and the cold flicker of rage in his eyes. The heat of the moment had passed, but it left an uncomfortable silence in its wake.

It wasn’t the first time Touya had lost his temper during training, but each instance felt like a step further away from the connection they had. Izuku could still feel the sting of the harsh words, the force behind the punches, even though they were just sparring. What scared him wasn’t just the anger—though that in itself was unnerving—it was the way it made him feel small, like he wasn’t quite part of the team. A reminder that despite all the progress they’d made, Touya still had his moments, and sometimes, those moments pushed him farther than he could handle.

As much as Izuku wanted to pretend this was just another day, it wasn’t. It had happened before, though not often. When Touya was in a bad mood, things could get… tense. The air would grow heavy, and every movement felt like it could set something off. Each time it happened, Izuku couldn’t shake the feeling that it was driving a wedge between them. And that thought—the idea that the bond they shared could fray under the weight of those flashes of anger—was scarier than anything else.

Thankfully, after the first time Touya had lost control and given an Alpha command, and they were able to talk about their pasts and be honest with each other. Touya had never tried to use an Alpha Command on Izuku again. But despite that, a small, deep-seated fear lingered in Izuku’s chest. Even now, when Touya’s anger flared, there was a primal part of him that braced for it—waiting for the command, the order, the forceful push that would remind him of his place.

Izuku forced a breath, shaking the fear away, and tried to focus on Keigo’s calming words. "Thanks, Keigo," he muttered, his voice barely above a whisper. "I’ll try."

Keigo’s grin widened, but there was a flicker of concern in his eyes as he watched Izuku carefully. "You’ve got it in you, kid. Just keep going, one step at a time. We all have our limits, but it’s how you bounce back that matters. How about you head on home, and we’ll try again next week."

Izuku nodded, though the unease hadn’t quite lifted. 

______

Over the following sessions, Hawks expanded their training beyond simple sparring. His lessons were an intricate blend of strategy, technique, and practical advice, tailored to sharpen Izuku’s instincts.

“Walls, debris, even shadows,” Hawks explained one afternoon, gesturing to the chaotic sprawl of trash and sand around them. “Everything’s a tool if you know how to use it. Don’t limit yourself to what’s in your hands. Think bigger. The environment’s your greatest ally—or your biggest enemy—depending on how you play it.”

To demonstrate, Hawks began weaving effortlessly through the scattered trash piles, his movements so natural it was as if the terrain itself was an extension of him. He showed Izuku how to duck behind debris for cover, bait opponents into overextending, and use distractions like kicking sand into the air to create openings. Each technique was accompanied by a quip or lighthearted tease, but the underlying wisdom was undeniable.

Izuku followed Hawks' every demonstration with wide-eyed focus, his mind absorbing each tip and trick like a sponge. Every session felt like peeling back a new layer of combat, revealing the depth and complexity he had barely scratched the surface of before.

______

The bond between them quickly evolved into something unique—more like siblings than a traditional mentor-student dynamic. Hawks' playful nature often clashed with Izuku’s earnest determination, resulting in moments of lighthearted banter that provided welcome relief from the intensity of their training.

“Come on, kid,” Hawks teased one afternoon as Izuku stumbled over the uneven terrain, narrowly dodging one of Hawks' feints. “You’re moving like you’ve got concrete blocks tied to your feet. Pick up the pace!”

Izuku groaned, doubling over to catch his breath. “I’m trying!” he whined, a hint of laughter breaking through his exasperation.

“Well, try harder!” Hawks quipped, darting forward with a grin and delivering a light tap to Izuku’s shoulder. “Villains aren’t going to wait for you to catch your breath, you know.”

Despite the teasing, there was an unmistakable warmth in Hawks' demeanor. His relentless drive to push Izuku was tempered by a genuine belief in his potential, and Izuku could feel it in every word, every sparring session. It was this mix of challenge and camaraderie that kept Izuku coming back, even when his body protested and his bruises multiplied.

By the end of each session, Izuku would collapse onto the sand, drenched in sweat and utterly spent, but there was always a spark of triumph in his eyes. Each scrape, each bruise was proof of progress—a tangible sign that he was inching closer to becoming someone capable of standing side by side with the heroes he admired most.

___________

The afternoons spent at the beach quickly became the cornerstone of Izuku’s routine. Whether he was sparring with Touya, learning new strategies from Keigo, or just collapsing in exhaustion on the warm sand after a particularly tough session, Izuku could feel himself changing. His body was more toned, his reflexes quicker, and his confidence growing with each lesson. And according to Touya, his improvements were significant.

“What did I tell you?” Touya would say, watching with a mix of pride and smugness as Izuku managed to land a few more solid hits or dodge with more precision. “You’re showing massive improvement, Shrub.”

And more than the physical progress, there was the growing bond between him and his teachers. Touya, with his tough-love approach and relentless drive, and Hawks, with his sharp mind and easy-going charm. It was beginning to feel like a family of sorts—people who genuinely wanted to help him grow and be the best version of himself. It reminded him of the bond he shared with his gymnastic coaches, who always pushed him to be better, even when it was hard. The sense of camaraderie was starting to feel real.

One evening, after a particularly grueling session in the sand, as the sun dipped below the horizon, casting long shadows across the beach, Izuku leaned against the wall to catch his breath. His muscles were tight and sore, but there was a sense of quiet satisfaction as he wiped the sweat from his brow.

“You’re getting there,” Touya said, tossing him a half-empty water bottle. His words were laced with rare approval, though there was still that teasing edge.

Izuku grinned, though his exhaustion made the smile a little weak. “Yeah?” he asked, taking a swig of water.

“Yeah,” Keigo chimed in with his usual grin. “Just don’t let it go to your head, kid.”

Izuku chuckled softly, his muscles protesting the movement. His body was aching more than ever, but somehow, it didn’t seem so bad anymore. With each passing day, he was becoming stronger, faster, and more confident in his own abilities. And most importantly, he knew he wasn’t doing it alone.

“You’re making impressive progress,” Touya added, as if to reaffirm the promise that Izuku was on the right path, “I bet next time you and Shouto spar you’ll be able to give him a real fight. 

Izuku smiled again, the familiar weight of his growing confidence starting to settle comfortably within him. He had a long way to go, but with Touya and Hawks by his side, he was beginning to feel like maybe the path ahead wouldn’t be so hard.

___________

Fuyumi stood motionless in the kitchen, her hands frozen mid-task as the voices from the other room rose in volume. Her father’s sharp, commanding tone sliced through the air, cutting into the rhythm of the household like a jagged knife. In stark contrast, Touya’s voice—low but laced with frustration—rumbled in the background. Though the words were muffled, there was no mistaking the anger that simmered beneath them. It wasn’t the first time she’d heard them clash, but today the intensity felt different. The argument, though familiar, was foreign in a way Fuyumi hadn’t felt in years.

She hated the sound of their fighting. It was a constant reminder of the years spent as a silent observer, caught between her father’s unyielding expectations and Touya’s explosive temper. The memories of those days—the chaos, the fear, the way their family had seemed on the brink of breaking—felt like a heavy weight pressing down on her chest. Over the years, she’d learned to tune out the shouting, to block out the tension. It had become a coping mechanism, a way to shield herself from the constant cycle of conflict. But today, something felt wrong. It was in the rawness of Touya’s voice, sharp and biting, reminiscent of the times when he was younger and his anger had burned too brightly to be contained.

Her thoughts were interrupted when Shouto and Natsuo entered the room, their presence a sharp contrast to the turmoil just beyond the door. Shouto, as always, carried an air of quiet composure, his gaze distant and detached. Natsuo, with his usual indifference, glanced at her frazzled state and gave her a teasing smile.

"Relax, Fuyumi," Natsuo said, grabbing a snack from the counter with a shrug. "It’s just them again. You’re getting worked up over nothing. They fight like this all the time."

Fuyumi’s chest tightened, her hands gripping the edge of the counter as she struggled to steady her breathing. Natsuo was right, in a way. Her father and Touya’s arguments had always been a constant presence in their lives. But this? This was different. The anger in Touya’s voice wasn’t just frustration—it was something deeper, something more dangerous. It reminded her too much of the time before, when Touya had been consumed by his rage and resentment, pushing everyone away in a way that left scars on their family.

"I don’t know," Fuyumi murmured, her voice barely above a whisper. "There’s something about this. The way they’re yelling—it feels... familiar, but not in a good way."

Shouto, who had been quietly observing, finally glanced over at her, his expression unreadable. "Touya’s been like this for a while now. He’s just... frustrated. I think."

"I know," Fuyumi said, her voice trembling slightly. "But this is different. The way he’s been acting... it’s like when he was younger, before everything happened."

The unspoken truth hung heavily in the air between them. Shouto didn’t remember much from the past—his younger years were a blur, obscured by the weight of their father’s expectations and the trauma that had followed. But Fuyumi remembered. She had been there, right beside Touya, watching him change before her eyes.

Before Touya had left, before he’d come back different—colder and harder towards their father, but also kinder and more open to his siblings. Fuyumi remembered the way he used to be, when he admired their father like he’d hung the moon in the sky, and how angry and bitter he’d been towards them all, especially towards Shouto. His anger had been so raw, so uncontrolled, it felt like he was on the edge of something dangerous. And now, hearing his voice rising again, she couldn’t shake the feeling that the past was repeating itself.

Natsuo sighed, clearly unconcerned by her anxiety. "He’ll get over it," he muttered, his tone dismissive.

Fuyumi wasn’t so sure. She turned her gaze toward the hallway, where the shouting had only grown louder. The harsh words seemed to pierce the air like daggers, making it impossible for her to ignore. She couldn’t help but wonder if this time, things would be different. Could Touya really be slipping back into that angry, volatile person he had once been?

Shouto, who had remained silent for a while, finally spoke again. "He’s not the same as he was back then, Fuyumi. He’s just... different now."

Fuyumi looked at her younger brother, searching his face for some sign of reassurance, but his words only deepened the ache in her chest. "Different doesn’t always mean better," she whispered, her heart heavy with the weight of unspoken fears. Touya’s anger was one thing, but this—this felt like something more. The tension, the pressure, it had been building for weeks, and now it was threatening to boil over. Was this the beginning of something they couldn’t control?

"You’re right," she murmured, though her heart didn’t feel any lighter. "But I still don’t like it."

The argument continued to rage on, each word from their father cutting deeper into Fuyumi’s already fragile state. She turned back to the counter, her hands still trembling, as the fear that had settled in her chest began to grow. She couldn’t stop the storm. She couldn’t fix it. All she could do was watch, helpless, and hope that the damage wouldn’t be too much to bear this time.

But deep down, she feared it would.

Chapter Text

The night air was crisp, laced with the sharp scent of the city—concrete, exhaust, and the distant, greasy aroma of late-night food stalls. Touya Todoroki pulled his mask up higher over his face, tucking his hands into his pockets as he walked, his breath fogging in the cool air. His mind still simmered with anger—no, rage. It clawed at his chest, hot and suffocating, and no amount of walking was helping him shake it.

He hadn’t planned on visiting home. He avoided that place when he could. Having been a year since he turned eighteen and left the household to move in with Keigo, he had only ever gone back a handful of times. But Shouto had texted him, a short and simple "Are you free?" which, from his little brother, meant " I need you. " And Touya knew exactly what that meant.

Sure enough, when he arrived, Shouto had fresh bruises. The kind that wasn’t just from training. Touya had seen plenty of bruises before—he knew the difference between an accident and a deliberate hit. But Shouto, in his quiet, stubborn way, acted like it was nothing. He barely reacted as Touya disinfected the wounds with steady hands, his expression blank, shoulders stiff.

Fuyumi wasn’t home. Probably at school or buried in her studies. Natsuo was out too, which meant Shouto had been alone with him .

The frustration had settled in his chest like a smoldering fire, slow-burning but dangerous. 

Touya left as soon as he finished patching Shouto up. He had to. Staying in that house, breathing the same air as Endeavor, made his skin crawl. He didn't want to see that bastard’s face. Didn’t want to hear his voice. Didn’t want to watch him pretend he was some great man while Shouto sat there with bruises turning purple.

It wasn’t fair. None of it.

So he walked.

And walked.

The city stretched ahead of him in neon-lit streets and dark alleyways, crowded intersections, and empty storefronts. His hands were shoved deep into his jacket pockets, his nails biting into his palms. The frustration sat heavy in his gut like a slow-burning fire, waiting to ignite.

Heroes like Endeavor were treated like gods. People praised them, admired them, and put them on pedestals. No one cared about the wreckage they left behind. No one ever stopped to ask— what did it cost?

His boots hit the pavement harder.

Why does no one ever see it?

Why does no one ever stop him?

He had spent his whole life watching the truth rot behind smiling interviews and staged photos. Heroes were supposed to save people, weren’t they? So where were they? Who was saving Shouto? Who had ever saved him ?

Touya wasn’t even sure where he was going anymore. He just knew he wasn’t ready to go back to Keigo’s place—not yet. He barely considered it his place anyway. Just somewhere to sleep. Somewhere that wasn’t that house.

Touya’s feet stopped, his body tensing. His head turned toward a narrow alleyway, swallowed in shadow. At first, he thought he imagined it, but then—another noise. A muffled yell. The sound of a struggle.

His heartbeat kicked up, the simmering rage in his gut twisting into something sharper.

Without thinking, he moved.

The alley was dimly lit, the flickering glow of a streetlamp barely reaching inside. A man was pressed against the brick wall, his hands trembling as he fumbled through his pockets. Another man loomed over him, his grip tight on the victim’s collar, a switchblade glinting in his free hand.

A mugging.

Simple. Common.

Heroes wouldn’t bother with something like this. It was barely a blip on the radar of the so-called heroes. 

Barley a blip on his own radar

Touya exhaled slowly, rolling his shoulders. He could walk away. This wasn’t his problem. He could pretend he didn’t see anything—just like everyone else did every day.

The victim’s gaze flicked to him, wide and desperate. He didn’t say anything, didn’t call for help, but the plea was in his eyes.

Touya moved.

The mugger barely had time to register his presence before Touya grabbed him by the back of the shirt and yanked him away from the victim. The man stumbled, nearly dropping his knife. The victim didn’t hesitate—he bolted, his rapid footsteps vanishing into the city’s noise.

Touya barely noticed. His focus was locked onto the man before him.

“Who the hell—?”

Touya punched him.

Hard.

The crack of impact sent a shock through his arm, but he barely felt it. The mugger staggered back, wheezing, but Touya wasn’t done. He stepped forward, grabbed the guy by the collar, and slammed him against the brick wall.

“You like picking on people weaker than you?” His voice came out low, almost calm, but there was an edge to it. A dangerous undercurrent.

The mugger wheezed, struggling to pry Touya’s hand off him. “L-let go, man, I was just—”

Touya punched him again.

The man crumpled to his knees, coughing. His knife clattered to the ground.

And yet—Touya wasn’t done.

There was no technique in his movements, just raw, unfiltered aggression. Another punch—this one catching the mugger across the jaw. Then another, and another.

The world around him faded, and the city’s hum drowned beneath the rush of blood in his ears.

This wasn’t about the mugger anymore.

This was about every helpless moment, every time he had to stand by while Endeavor’s shadow crushed his family. Every time he had to watch his mother lower her gaze, to hear Natsuo’s bitterness, to patch up Shouto’s bruises like it was normal. Every time people smiled at his father and called him a hero. Every time no one saw.

So Touya made sure this bastard felt it.

His breath came in sharp bursts, his body running on instinct, fists driving forward again and again. The mugger had stopped struggling, slumped against the grimy pavement, arms limp at his sides. His face was a mess—blood smeared across his split lip, his nose bent at an angle, and one eye already swelling shut.

But Touya still wasn’t done.

His chest heaved, his knuckles stinging, raw from the repeated impact. His body screamed at him to stop, but for once, he didn’t feel powerless. He didn’t feel like a failure or a useless kid trapped in a system that never protected the ones who needed it most.

He felt… lighter .

He felt alive .

And more than that—he felt satisfied .

But Touya only stopped when his own breathing became ragged and his limbs started to feel heavy.

Slowly, he loosened his grip on the man's collar, stepping back as the body slumped forward, motionless except for the shallow rise and fall of his breath. He wasn’t dead—Touya made sure of that—but he’d remember this for a long, long time.

Touya exhaled, dragging his fingers through his hair before pulling his mask back into place. His hands ached, the bruising already setting in, but he barely noticed. The only thing that mattered was the feeling settling deep in his bones.

Relief.

Not guilt. Not regret.

No rules. No fake justice. No heroes pretending to care.

Just action.

His smirk was hidden beneath his mask, but he felt it stretch across his face as he turned, stepping over the unconscious body without another glance. He melted back into the night, his shadow swallowed by the alley’s darkness.

The idea came to him as he walked. A quiet, certain thing.

Maybe society didn’t need heroes. Maybe it needed something else. Someone who didn’t play by their rules.

Someone willing to do what they couldn’t—or wouldn’t .

The hero system was broken, and he knew that better than anyone. People like his father thrived under its protection, while the weak suffered in silence. The police wouldn’t do anything, and neither would the heroes.

But he would.

Not as a hero. Not as part of some flawed, bloated system.

No, he’d do this his way.

He flexed his fingers, ignoring the sting in his knuckles. The plan was already forming in his mind.

If no one else was going to stop the people who preyed on the weak—

Then he would.

No rules. No red tape. No hero system.

Just results.

And for the first time in his life—Touya felt free .

___________

Izuku could barely contain his excitement as he stepped onto the mats at the dojo. The air was thick with the scent of polished wood and the sharp tang of sweat, the atmosphere alive with the hum of focused energy. His heart raced in his chest, almost in disbelief. This was it—after years of pleading, years of secret training sessions with Touya, and endless hours spent honing his body through gymnastics, he was finally here. Enrolled in a real martial arts class.

His mom had kept her promise, though Izuku knew it hadn’t come easily. He could see it in the way her fingers fidgeted as she signed the paperwork, the slight hesitation in her movements when she handed over the first payment. She worried about him, of course, she did. But she also understood that some part of him needed this. That he wanted to be strong. Not just for himself, but for others.

Choosing Ninjutsu hadn’t been easy.

For months, Izuku had debated with everyone around him about which martial art to pursue. He’d pored over books, quizzed Touya and Shouto about their experiences with different styles, and even talked to his gymnastics coaches about what could complement his existing strengths. Everyone had different suggestions.

His gymnastics coaches had recommended capoeira or taekwondo to make the most of his flexibility and agility. Some classmates argued that karate was the best for building a strong foundation in self-defense, while others championed judo or jiu-jitsu for their grappling techniques.

But when he finally asked Touya, the older boy had simply smirked and said:

“It depends. Do you wanna be strong, or do you wanna be smart?”

At first, Izuku didn’t get it. But after hours of discussion—Touya explaining the subtle intricacies of each fighting style, how some focused on overwhelming power and others on strategy—Izuku had an epiphany. What he truly wanted wasn’t just to be physically strong. He wanted to outthink his opponents, to use his mind just as much as his body.

That’s when Touya mentioned Ninjutsu.

It wasn’t about raw strength or brute force. It was about technique, patience, and misdirection. Ninjutsu taught evasion, stealth, and the art of unpredictability—taking advantage of an opponent’s own momentum and turning it against them. It was everything Izuku had always believed in: using speed and agility to outmaneuver, not overpower.

It felt like the perfect fit.

But convincing his mom wasn’t easy. She’d been hesitant, her worries deep and unspoken. But true to her word, once Izuku turned ten, she agreed to help him enroll in a traditional Ninjutsu school.

The catch? She had to pay for it herself.

Endeavor, while agreeing that learning to fight was necessary, flatly refused to cover the costs. “If you want it, you pay for it,” he had told them without hesitation.

So, despite her reservations, Inko dipped into her own savings, using her job and the child support payments from Hisashi Midoriya to cover the tuition.

So at ten and three months years old, Izuku finally stepped into his first Ninjutsu class.

The training was nothing like he’d imagined. Despite his athleticism, Ninjutsu was a whole new world. The first few weeks were nothing but basics—learning proper stance, how to fall safely without injury, and mastering simple striking techniques. The physical demands were nothing compared to gymnastics, where everything was precise, controlled, and graceful. Here, he was learning to move with intent—every action designed for survival.

By the time he turned eleven, his training was still in its early stages, but it was already making him feel different. His instructors focused on the fundamentals: learning how to fall properly—side falls, backfalls, and forward rolls. Footwork drills were all about evasion, about learning to sidestep danger instead of confronting it head-on. They taught him how to off-balance an opponent, redirect their movements, and use their own force against them. The strikes were simple: open-hand slaps, basic kicks, and defensive blocks. Nothing flashy, just efficient.

Every lesson reminded him that combat wasn’t just about strength—it was about awareness, positioning, and timing. He’d never realized how much went into real fighting, and even though the moves were simple, they required far more precision than any gymnastics routine.

“Not every fight can be won by being stronger,” his instructor had said. “But every fight can be won by being smarter.”

It was exhilarating.

There was a feeling of freedom here, a sense of purpose that had been missing from all the secret training sessions with Touya. Maybe it was the relief of not having to hide his actions from his mother anymore. Maybe it was the knowledge that he was truly learning something that could protect him and those he loved.

But standing in the dojo, feeling the burn in his muscles and the weight of every small victory, Izuku felt like he was finally on the right path. His dream of being a hero had always been about doing good—but now, he could see that it wasn’t just about being strong. It was about being smart enough to make the right choices when it mattered most.

And now, at eleven years old, he was finally starting to see the fruits of his hard work.

With Touya’s help, his sparring matches with Shouto had gone from being completely one-sided to lasting almost ten minutes before Shouto eventually overwhelmed him. That was a huge improvement. Shouto wasn’t holding back as much anymore, either. His movements were still precise and calculated, but Izuku could tell that he was starting to treat him like a real opponent, someone worth testing his strength against. That shift, that respect, made all the effort feel more than worth it.

Izuku’s gymnastics training had paid off, too. His flexibility and balance had skyrocketed, allowing him to weave through attacks that would’ve once flattened him without hesitation. His speed and agility had improved to the point where he could dodge strikes with fluidity, his body instinctively reacting before he even fully processed the attack. He was starting to learn how to move with intent—how to position himself to land from higher places with precision, how to absorb hits and roll smoothly into a fall, lessening the impact.

And with the new techniques he was learning in his Ninjutsu classes, he was positive that he could close the gap between himself and Shouto.

The only downside to his new training schedule was that his sessions with Touya had been cut down to once every other week. It wasn’t that they didn’t want to train together—it’s just that life was moving forward for everyone.

Fuyumi had been in college for a while now, diligently working toward her degree in teaching. She still lived at home, but she wasn’t around as much anymore. Touya had moved out completely after turning eighteen, desperate to escape Endeavor’s shadow. He’d sought refuge with Hawks, though Izuku couldn’t tell if it was because they got along or because it was simply a better alternative than the hostile environment at home.

Touya was still training him, but with each passing week, the day when Touya would officially become an adult loomed closer. He was wrestling with the decision of what to do with the rest of his life. One thing was certain—he didn’t want to be a hero.

Touya’s path to blacksmithing had been almost accidental. One day, while training at the beach, he decided to try his hand at forging a knife from some scrap metal he found scattered around. The result was rough—crude, even—but when he showed it to a few friends, their positive reactions took him by surprise. Encouraged by Keigo’s support, Touya applied to a school to learn the fine art of metalworking. When asked about his future, he’d explain that he wanted to specialize in creating parts for quirk-assistance modification equipment. While engineers put the equipment together, someone had to forge the specialized components. And that, he decided, was the path he wanted to follow. As a result, his schedule grew even more packed.

Izuku didn’t mind, though. The change in Touya was noticeable. He seemed… better, in ways that were hard to describe. More content, perhaps, or maybe just less burdened by the past.

Natsuo, now fifteen, was deep in the chaos of high school, caught up in homework, friends, and his own social life. That meant he was usually too busy to deal with his younger siblings, which left Shouto.

Shouto, who had recently developed an unexpected interest in knitting.

Izuku still wasn’t sure how it had started, but one day, after a grueling afternoon of gymnastics, he returned home to find Shouto awkwardly fumbling with knitting needles, his mother guiding his hands with quiet patience. It was a disaster—uneven stitches, gaping holes in the fabric. Izuku had never seen his usually composed friend struggle with something so much.

Shouto had looked embarrassed when Izuku caught him mid-mess as if he hadn’t wanted anyone to see his clumsy attempts. Apparently, he’d been meeting with their mother whenever Izuku was at gymnastics, trying to learn the craft. He’d kept it secret, not wanting to mention it until he could actually make something good.

But despite being awful at it, Shouto genuinely seemed to enjoy it. He told Izuku that his plan was to make gifts for all his siblings once he got better at it. The idea of Shouto, who usually took everything so seriously, sitting down with a pair of knitting needles and trying his hand at creating something from yarn—was oddly heartwarming.

Izuku had tried to learn with him, but he just didn’t have the patience for it. He could barely sit still long enough to get the yarn wrapped around the needles properly, let alone actually make something useful. So instead, he made Shouto promise that once he was better at it, Shouto would knit him something hero-themed. A sweater with the design of his favorite hero, maybe.

Shouto had agreed with his usual deadpan expression, as though knitting a hero-themed sweater was a perfectly normal promise to make.

Izuku grinned to himself as he stretched his arms over his head, preparing for the start of class. Everything was changing, little by little. His training was progressing. He was finally training the way he’d always wanted to. His friends were moving forward, finding their own paths. And despite the whirlwind of change, there was a certain peace in knowing that they were all moving forward together, each of them slowly carving their own future, even if it was still unclear where they would all end up.

_______________

It was the usual meeting spot: the trash beach, where the salty tang of seawater mingled with the faint scent of rusted metal and rotting refuse. A gritty, familiar environment—perfect for sparring. The waves crashed rhythmically, their soothing sound blending with the sharp thuds of fists connecting with flesh and feet pounding against the soft, uneven sand.

Midoriya had just finished a particularly grueling round of drills when something caught his eye. Touya, his older mentor, had removed his gloves to wipe his face. The fading light of the setting sun revealed something that made Midoriya’s stomach twist—raw, scuffed marks on Touya’s knuckles. Scratches, bruises, and cuts, the kind that were still fresh and angry-looking, as if they’d been earned only hours ago.

Midoriya’s gaze lingered on the injuries for a moment, and concern crept into his voice as he spoke. “Hey, Touya, what happened?” He frowned, stepping closer. “Did you get into a fight?”

Touya’s gaze flicked to the side, a flash of hesitation crossing his features. He quickly pulled his hand away, like he was trying to hide the injuries. “It’s nothing. Just an accident working on a new project,” he muttered, his tone carrying a faint defensive edge. It was a lie he’d begun using frequently whenever someone asked about his injuries—usually with some explanation about metal forging or the rough work he’d been doing.

Midoriya wasn’t entirely convinced. He wasn’t a blacksmith and didn’t know the details of forging metal, but he knew Touya well enough to see the cracks in his story. The way his posture stiffened, the guarded look in his eyes—it was the same way he always acted when something was off when he didn’t want to talk.

“Touya,” Midoriya pressed, his voice softer but more insistent this time. “You don’t need to hide it. What happened?”

He expected more resistance, maybe a deflection, but instead, Touya sighed heavily. He ran a hand through his hair, his posture sagging for a moment. When he finally met Midoriya’s gaze, there was a moment of silence—almost as if he were debating whether or not to continue. Then, he spoke, his voice low, like he was testing the words before letting them spill. “I’ve been going out at night,” he said. “Seeing people who need to be... dealt with.”

Midoriya blinked, confusion rising in his chest. “Dealt with?” he echoed, his voice a mix of concern and confusion.

Touya’s expression turned distant as his gaze shifted toward the horizon, lost in a thought only he seemed to understand. “Pickpockets. Scum who harass people on the streets. The usual,” he muttered, his voice taking on an edge, almost like he was ashamed of what he was admitting but not enough to stop.

Midoriya stood still, his mind racing. The man who had always taught him discipline, control—the one who had guided him toward becoming the kind of hero who stayed above the fray—was now diving into street-level violence? Taking matters into his own hands, throwing punches in alleyways? It didn’t add up.

“Touya,” Midoriya began slowly, his words laced with concern. “You’re not a hero. You can’t just... go around picking fights. There are people for that—heroes, police. This isn’t something you should be doing.”

Touya didn’t meet his gaze. His eyes were fixed on the horizon as if searching for something out there, something he couldn’t find in the here and now. “I don’t need the police. I don’t need heroes. Sometimes they’re too slow... or they don’t care enough. It’s not about saving the day, Midoriya. It’s about... fixing this world.” His voice was quiet, but there was a resolve there, an undercurrent of frustration. “The little things always slip through the cracks. And I’m not just gonna sit around waiting for someone else to fix things. I can’t.”

Midoriya felt a pang in his chest, a mix of disbelief and worry. This wasn’t the path Touya was supposed to be on. He had always believed in justice—the kind that came through hard work, discipline, and the law. Not in vigilante acts under the cover of night. “But, Touya,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper, “if you get caught... you could get into serious trouble. Or worse, what if you get really hurt before anyone even knows what you’re doing?”

Touya’s gaze finally shifted, just for a moment, but it was enough. His expression was firm, unyielding like he had already made up his mind. “I’m already hurt, Izuku. I’m not afraid of getting even more hurt.” His voice softened, but the edge didn’t leave. “Every day, I watch people get hurt—ignored, forgotten. Kids on the streets, families falling apart, people too scared to ask for help because they feel like they’re not important enough to the heroes. And those who do ask for help... they wait too long, and no one ever shows up.” He exhaled deeply, like he was gathering strength for something heavier. “I can’t just sit back and watch it happen. Not when I know I can do something about it.”

Midoriya clenched his fists at his sides, frustration building in his chest. He wanted to understand, he really did. But it wasn’t right. “I get it. I do. But this... this isn’t the way. You’re putting yourself in danger, Touya. You could get hurt, or worse.” He felt his breath catch. “What if you get arrested? What happens to your future then?”

Touya shook his head, the barest smirk tugging at his lips as if he’d already considered that very possibility. “I don’t care about my future. Not like that. Heroes—they get the credit, sure, but do they really fix the world? Do they stop the pain before it gets too deep? Nah. They deal with the big stuff, the flashy things—the villains who make a mess, or the obvious criminals. But they don’t see the cracks. The quiet ones—the people who slip through the cracks because no one’s paying attention.” His eyes narrowed as his tone sharpened. “I want to make a world where people are afraid to hurt kids like you and Shouto... kids like me. I want to make sure no one has to grow up thinking they’re too small to matter, that no one will ever come to save them.”

Midoriya’s chest tightened at the mention of Shouto, but he pressed forward, his voice thick with concern. “Touya... you can’t do this alone. There’s a reason we have heroes and police—they’re trained, they have the right resources. You don’t want to end up in a situation where you’re outnumbered or unprepared. What happens then?”

Touya gave a small, almost amused shrug, a flicker of defiance in his eyes. “Well, if you’re really so worried,” he said, glancing at Midoriya with a challenge in his gaze. “How about you tag along one night? See for yourself that it isn’t as dangerous as you think.” His voice took on a teasing edge. “You could even help me save a few of the people the heroes forget about. Or is that something you’re not cut out for?”

Midoriya’s stomach twisted at the familiar tone—the challenge, the invitation to prove something. He knew it well. Touya wanted to show him, to make him see things from his perspective. But there was something deeper in his voice too—something that felt more vulnerable than he wanted to admit. “I’m not... I’m not sure I’m ready for that. I don’t know if it’s something I could just... jump into.”

Touya’s expression softened for a brief moment, but his resolve remained unshaken. “You don’t have to be ready. I’m not asking you to dive in headfirst. I just want you to see that what I’m doing isn’t so bad.” His tone grew more serious, more grounded. “The world’s already broken, Midoriya. People are suffering right now. There’s no perfect way to fix it, but this is a way I think I can help. If you keep waiting for the ‘right time,’ you might never get there.”

The silence stretched between them, heavy and thick with unspoken words. Midoriya’s heart raced, torn between his idealistic vision of justice and the harsh reality that Touya was facing head-on. He wanted to tell him there was a better way, that becoming a true hero meant standing for something more than just fighting back. But the raw sincerity in Touya’s voice made it harder to deny that maybe... just maybe, there was more to this than he’d realized. The cracks in the world weren’t always so obvious, and maybe some of them needed someone like Touya to step in before they got too wide to fix.

The silence between them stretched on, heavy and thick. Midoriya’s heart raced, the tension pulling him in two directions—his idealistic sense of justice and the harsh, messy reality of the world that Touya was trying to face head-on. He wanted to tell him that there was a better way, that becoming a true hero meant standing for something greater than just fighting back. But the raw sincerity in Touya’s voice, the weight of his words, made it harder to deny that maybe... just maybe, there was more to his approach than he’d realized.

But the more he thought about it, the more the conflict inside him deepened. His beliefs, everything he’d worked toward, clashed violently with the reality of the situation. “But Touya, if we get caught... It’s not just about us. We could get in serious trouble. And I—I’d never be able to become a hero if anyone found out.” His voice faltered, the thought of losing everything—the dreams, the years of effort—settling over him like a shadow.

There it was—the fear. The undeniable weight of the consequences. If they were caught, not only would they face legal action, but Midoriya knew the truth: his future, his dreams of becoming a hero, would be shattered. Everything he had worked for would be wasted in an instant. He could already picture the headlines, the disappointment in his mother’s eyes, and the end of his path before it had even truly begun.

Touya’s gaze softened, the intensity in his expression momentarily giving way to understanding. He placed a hand on Midoriya’s shoulder, a rare moment of tenderness. “I get it, kid,” he said quietly, his tone softer than usual. “I know you want to be a hero. And I promise, I won’t let us get caught. We’ll just walk around for a bit, and see how things go. If it gets too much, I’ll take you back home, no questions asked.”

Midoriya stayed silent, still processing everything, the weight of the situation pressing on him like a physical force. The thought of doing something he couldn’t undo, of risking everything he’d worked for, made his chest tighten with unease. “Just one night, kid,” Touya’s voice broke through, almost gentle now. “You don’t have to come if you really don’t want to. But I promise, I won’t let anything happen to you.”

The words hung in the air between them, offering a compromise, a chance to see things from a different angle. Midoriya’s mind swirled with doubt, with hesitation, but somewhere deep inside him, there was a part of him that wanted to understand, to know if there was more to this than the risks.

“Just… just one time,” Midoriya finally spoke, his voice quieter than usual but steady. “...I still don’t think this is the answer, Touya. But I’ll keep an open mind.”

Touya met his gaze, a flicker of something almost like hope lighting up his eyes, the challenge that had been there before replaced with something softer, something that spoke of trust. “That’s all I’m asking for.”

_______________

Touya had been playing vigilante for months now. And the thrill of it—the fights, the rush, the overwhelming feeling of power he got when he won another fight—never got old. He loved it. Every hit, every takedown, felt like years of pent-up rage finally finding an outlet. It wasn’t just about taking down criminals; it was about control. About reminding the world that people like him—people who had been ignored, dismissed, thrown away—could still make an impact.

If not for the pesky little issue of possibly killing someone, he might have even let his Quirk loose on the bastards he fought. His fire itched beneath his skin, begging to be unleashed. It would be so easy to burn them, to make sure they never got back up again. But he held back. Barely. Instead, he made do with fists, elbows, and steel-toed boots, making sure that when he was done, they weren’t getting up anytime soon.

And it was working. The more he went out, the quieter the streets became. Criminals—at least the small-time ones—were learning to stay home. Even the people he saved flinched when they looked at him, their gratitude laced with fear. Maybe they thought he took things too far. Maybe they worried he enjoyed it too much. But in his mind, that was just proof that what he was doing worked. If even the people he was helping were afraid, then so were the ones causing the problems in the first place. Fear kept people in line. And as long as they feared him, they wouldn’t be out there hurting someone else.

But there was a problem—one that had been getting harder to ignore.

The police had taken notice.

At first, they didn’t seem to care. A few scumbags getting beaten to hell wasn’t high on their priority list. But after a while, when his handiwork became a pattern, when people started talking about the mysterious vigilante who left criminals half-conscious in alleyways, they started to pay attention. And the more he struck, the harder they worked to stop him. It wasn’t long before they put serious effort into tracking him down.

And maybe… maybe he’d gone too far. Some of the people he had attacked hadn’t even committed the crime yet. Some were just thinking about it. He could see it in their body language, in the way they lingered in dark corners or followed someone a little too closely. He didn’t need to wait for them to act—he already knew what they were planning. But the police didn’t see it that way. To them, he wasn’t stopping crimes. He was the criminal.

For weeks, he had managed to stay ahead of them. Narrow escapes, close calls, slipping through cracks just in time. But then, they escalated.

They brought in a hero.

It wasn’t a pro, not yet—just some sidekick they roped in to help track him down. But it was enough to make things harder. He barely got away that time. It was the first time in months that he truly felt cornered, that his heart pounded not from the thrill of the fight, but from the realization that if he got caught, it was over. And the worst part? He didn’t want to stop.

He should. Logically, he knew that. He should lay low, let things cool down, go back to pretending to be normal. But the idea of stopping made his skin crawl. He couldn’t go back. Not after everything.

So he needed a solution.

And that’s where Midoriya came in.

The kid had a hell of a Quirk—one that could get them out of tight spots if things ever got too dicey. If Touya could get him to see things from his perspective, convince him that what he was doing wasn’t just right, but necessary… then maybe, just maybe, he’d have an extra safety net. Someone to help him when things got bad.

Midoriya was a hero at heart, sure, but he was also desperate—to help, to make a difference, to understand. And desperation made people malleable. If Touya played this right, he could get the kid on his side.

After all, wasn’t this exactly what Midoriya wanted? To save people? To help those who slipped through the cracks?

Touya just had to show him that the best way to do that wasn’t by playing by the heroes’ rules.

It was by breaking them.

_______________

Izuku lay in bed, staring at the ceiling, his fingers curled into the blanket as he listened to the familiar sounds of home. The quiet creak of a door, the hum of the refrigerator cycling on and off, the soft padding of his mother’s feet as she made her final rounds, checking the locks one last time before heading to bed. The usual routine.

He had told her goodnight with a smile, let her tuck him in just like always, and waited until the warmth of her presence faded behind his bedroom door. But tonight, the comfort of routine did nothing to settle the nervous energy buzzing beneath his skin. His heart pounded, his thoughts circling the same question over and over.

Would Touya really come?

He shifted under the covers, glancing at the glowing red numbers of his alarm clock. An hour had passed. Maybe more. The longer he waited, the heavier his eyelids became. His thoughts blurred, his breath evened out, and before he could stop himself, sleep pulled him under.

Tap.

Izuku’s eyes snapped open. For a moment, he wasn’t sure what had woken him—the remnants of a dream? The distant city noise filtering through his window?

Tap.

His heart slammed against his ribs. He pushed himself upright, blinking against the darkness of his room. His blankets were tangled around his legs, trapping him in place. Another tap, this time sharper. His head whipped toward the window.

A figure stood just beyond the glass, barely illuminated by the faint streetlights below.

Touya.

Izuku scrambled out of bed, his pulse racing for an entirely different reason now. He nearly tripped over his own feet in his hurry to reach the window, his fingers fumbling with the latch before finally pushing it open. Cold night air rushed in, sending a shiver down his spine.

Touya moved with effortless ease, swinging himself inside without so much as a sound. He landed lightly on the floor, straightening up as he pushed his hood back just enough for Izuku to see his face. His white hair was hidden beneath the dark fabric, but his piercing blue eyes gleamed in the dim light.

“Didn’t think you’d actually fall asleep on me, kid,” Touya murmured, amusement curling at the edges of his lips.

Izuku flushed, rubbing the back of his neck. “I—I was waiting! I just—”

Touya waved a hand dismissively. “Relax. I’m here now. Let’s get you ready.”

Without waiting for a response, he moved toward Izuku’s dresser, rummaging through the drawers with a quiet efficiency that suggested he’d done this plenty of times before. Within seconds, he pulled out a pair of dark sweatpants and a long-sleeved black shirt, tossing them onto the bed.

“You’re too noticeable in your usual stuff. Put these on,” he instructed.

Izuku hesitated for only a moment before nodding. His hands trembled slightly—not just from fear, although that was a huge factor, but from the weight of what he was about to do. He was really going out there. With Touya. To fight criminals, without a hero license. 

As he changed, the air between them remained quiet, thick with an unspoken understanding. When Izuku finished pulling the shirt over his head, he turned to find Touya holding out a dark hoodie.

“Put this on,” Touya said, his tone leaving no room for argument. “Gotta hide that messy green hair of yours.”

Izuku obeyed, pulling the hood up, the fabric feeling strange and foreign against his skin. A part of him felt… different. Like he wasn’t himself anymore. Like the version of Izuku Midoriya who dreamed of being a hero was slowly being tucked away beneath the layers of dark clothing.

Touya pulled one last thing from his pocket—a simple black face mask. He held it out. “This too.”

Izuku took it with only a slight hesitation, slipping the fabric over his mouth and nose. He caught his reflection in the window glass—a shadowed figure staring back at him, almost unrecognizable.

Touya smirked, approval flashing in his eyes. “Not bad. Now let’s get out of here before your mom wakes up.”

Izuku swallowed hard and nodded. Then, with one final glance around his room—his safe, warm, familiar room—they slipped out the window and into the waiting night.

The train ride was quiet at first.

Midoriya sat stiffly beside Touya, hands clenched in his lap as the rhythmic clatter of the train against the tracks thrummed beneath them. The fluorescent lights overhead buzzed faintly, casting a harsh, artificial glow over the nearly empty car. Everything about this felt surreal—like he was caught in a dream where the colors were too sharp, the sounds too distant, and the air too thick to breathe properly.

Touya, by contrast, looked perfectly at ease. He slouched back against the seat, one arm draped lazily over the backrest, his gaze flicking between Midoriya and the darkened cityscape outside. His hood was pulled up just enough to cast a shadow over his sharp features, but his eyes gleamed with something unreadable.

“I switch up where I go every night,” he said, voice casual as if they were discussing weekend plans. “Makes it harder for cops to catch me. Keeps the criminals on edge too. If they don’t know where I’ll show up next, they’re too scared to try anything.”

Midoriya swallowed. The way Touya spoke about it—like a game of cat and mouse—sent a strange twist through his stomach. This wasn’t like the stories he had grown up with, where heroes arrived with shining smiles and grand speeches. There were no cameras, no adoring crowds. Just shadowed streets and quiet fear.

Was this what being a vigilante really meant?

But he had promised to keep an open mind.

So he nodded, not trusting himself to say much.

When they stepped off the train in the next town over, Midoriya immediately felt the difference.

The air here was thicker, tinged with the faint scent of damp pavement and something stale, like cigarette smoke clinging to the walls. The buildings were older, their facades worn down by time and neglect. Dim streetlights cast long, fractured shadows across the cracked sidewalks, and the streets were mostly empty save for the occasional straggler making their way home.

It wasn’t far from his own neighborhood, but it felt like an entirely different world.

Touya, on the other hand, moved through it with practiced ease. His hands were stuffed into his hoodie pockets, his pace unhurried, like he had all the time in the world. Every now and then, he’d glance back at Midoriya, clearly noticing his unease.

“Relax, kid,” he said, nudging him lightly with an elbow. “You look like you’re about to jump out of your skin.”

Midoriya exhaled, trying to loosen the tension in his shoulders. “I just… I don’t know what to expect.”

Touya’s eyes crinkled in amusement, and Midoriya just knew he was smirking under his mask. “That’s the fun part.”

They walked for a while, weaving through side streets and alleyways. Touya kept the conversation light—complaining about train fares, making sarcastic comments about how eerily quiet the neighborhood was, and even cracking a joke about how Midoriya looked like a lost puppy.

For a moment, Midoriya almost forgot why they were here.

Then they found him.

A pickpocket.

The guy moved fast, his hand dipping into an unsuspecting woman’s purse as she walked past. It was subtle—so subtle that Midoriya barely caught it. But Touya had seen it instantly.

Before Midoriya could react, Touya was already in motion.

It happened in the blink of an eye. One second, the thief was slipping the wallet free. The next, Touya had him by the collar, yanking him backward with enough force to send him stumbling onto the pavement.

“Not tonight, asshole,” Touya muttered, stepping smoothly between the thief and his would-be victim.

The pickpocket barely had time to get his bearings before Touya struck. A sharp punch to the gut. A swift kick to the legs. The man crumpled with a strangled wheeze, clutching his stomach as he gasped for air.

Midoriya stood frozen a few feet away, heart hammering.

This wasn’t the reckless, brutal beatdown he had imagined. No unnecessary blows. No drawn-out violence. Just efficiency—quick, controlled, precise.

It was… almost impressive.

For the first time, a thought crept into Midoriya’s mind that he hadn’t expected.

Maybe this vigilante thing wasn’t as bad as he had feared.

Touya hadn’t gone overboard. He had stopped the crime before it could happen, protected the victim, and ensured the thief wouldn’t try again. Wasn’t that what heroes were supposed to do?

The authorities weren’t there. Even if they were, would they have arrived in time? If Touya hadn’t stepped in, that woman would’ve lost her wallet—her money, her ID, maybe something irreplaceable. If stopping that was wrong… then what was the right thing to do?

Maybe the laws weren’t as black and white as he had always believed.

Maybe… just maybe, Touya had a point.

But then he saw her face.

The woman clutched her purse to her chest, fingers trembling. Her wide eyes darted between them, filled with something that made Midoriya’s stomach drop.

Fear.

Not just fear of the thief.

Fear of Touya.

She stammered out a quiet, “T-Thank you,” but there was no warmth in it—no relief, no admiration. Just a desperate need to leave.

She turned on her heel and hurried away without looking back.

Midoriya’s throat went dry.

Even the people Touya saved were afraid of him.

Touya exhaled, rolling his shoulders as he looked over at Midoriya. “See? Quick and easy.”

Midoriya forced a nod. He wasn’t sure what to say.

Although it was hidden behind his mask, Midoriya could tell Touya was grinning. The older boy nudged him with an elbow, amusement laced in his voice. “Hey, don’t look so freaked out. You wanted to see what this was like, right?”

Midoriya hesitated, then swallowed hard. His pulse was still racing from what he had just witnessed, from the way the woman had looked at them—at Touya—with more fear than gratitude. But he forced himself to nod. “…Yeah.”

Touya studied him for a moment, his expression unreadable beneath the dim streetlights, before smirking again. “Come on. The night’s still young.”

And just like that, they kept walking.

For a while, the silence stretched between them, broken only by the distant hum of traffic and the occasional flickering of a faulty streetlamp. The farther they went, the more Midoriya found himself lost in thought, replaying the moment in his head. The efficiency of it. The sheer control. And yet—

“Touya…” he finally spoke, hesitant but unable to keep the question inside. “Why was she so scared of you? You saved her, right?”

Touya barely glanced at him, shoving his hands deeper into his hoodie pockets. “Because people are stupid,” he muttered, idly kicking a stray rock down the pavement.

Midoriya frowned at the deflection. “That’s not an answer.”

Touya sighed, rolling his shoulders as if shaking off something heavier than Midoriya could see. “The police have been telling people I’m dangerous. That I might hurt them.” His voice was light, almost lazy, but there was an undercurrent of something sharper—something bitter.

Midoriya’s brows furrowed. “What? But that’s not—” He hesitated, thinking back to the woman’s reaction, the way she had clutched her purse like a lifeline. The way she had run, even after being saved. “…That’s not fair.”

Touya let out a low chuckle, shaking his head. “Of course it’s not. But do you think cops want some random guy running around doing their job for them? Hell no.” He gestured vaguely at the empty streets ahead. “So they paint me as the bad guy. Say I go too far. That I’m just some psycho looking for an excuse to hit people.”

Midoriya chewed his lip, struggling to process it all. He had always believed in heroes, in the system. In justice. But now, doubt gnawed at the edges of that belief.

“…But,” he said carefully, “you do hit people.”

Touya snorted. “Yeah. But only the ones who deserve it.”

Midoriya didn’t respond right away. He wasn’t sure how to.

“...All Might hits people too,” Touya adds, almost as an afterthought.

The silence settled between them again, thick and heavy. Touya exhaled, running a hand through his hair, his smirk dimming ever so slightly. “Look, kid. You wanna be a hero, right? Then you better learn real fast—people fear what they don’t understand. And when they don’t know who to trust, they just go with whatever the loudest voice tells them.”

Midoriya’s grip tightened on the hem of his hoodie. He wanted to argue. To say that heroes were different. That they earned people’s trust, that the police worked with them, not against them.

But tonight, he had seen it firsthand.

The woman had thanked Touya, but she had still run.

And Touya had expected it.

“…That doesn’t bother you?” Midoriya finally asked, voice quieter than before.

Touya scoffed. “I didn’t start doing this to be liked.” He cast a sidelong glance at Midoriya, his expression unreadable. Then, softer, more certain: “I do this because no one else will.”

Midoriya wasn’t sure if he agreed with that.

But he also wasn’t sure if he disagreed.

So he said nothing.

And they just kept walking.

_________________

The rest of the night passed in a subdued silence, the city around them bathed in an almost eerie stillness. The streets were mostly empty, and the few people who dared venture out immediately crossed to the opposite side when they saw them coming. Midoriya couldn’t blame them. The air was thick with tension, heavy enough that despite the cold, beads of sweat began to gather at the back of his neck, a stark contrast to the chill in the air.

After a couple of hours, Touya glanced over at him, his hands still buried deep in the pockets of his hoodie, his face half-hidden beneath the shadow of his hood. He paused, taking in the stillness of the street, before breaking the silence.

"Well, kid," he said casually, his voice cutting through the quiet, "I think it's about time we head back. Don’t wanna overdo it your first night out."

Midoriya nodded, his mind still tangled in the whirlwind of what he had witnessed. It was hard to process everything—so many questions, so many conflicting thoughts. The weight of it all pressed down on him, making him unsure of how to feel. He had seen a side of the world he hadn’t known existed, and it was hard to reconcile that with the image of the hero he had always aspired to be. But even so, there was something about Touya... something he couldn’t quite place.

As they turned back in the direction they came, Touya shot him another glance, his voice softer now, a rare seriousness in his tone. "So… what do you think? About coming with me tonight."

Midoriya chewed on the inside of his cheek, weighing his words carefully. His mind was a jumble of emotions, but he knew he needed to be honest. "I don’t know," he said after a long moment, his voice low. "I’ve got a lot to think about."

Touya seemed unfazed by the uncertainty, giving a slow nod. His trademark smirk returned, though there was something a little more knowing in it. "Fair enough. You’re not the first to feel that way."

Midoriya hesitated, the words almost slipping out before he stopped himself. But then, something compelled him to continue. “But… I don’t think you’re a bad person.”

Touya’s gaze flickered to him, sharp and calculating, but he didn’t interrupt. He waited.

“I mean,” Midoriya pressed on, his voice a little unsteady but growing more confident with each word, “you don’t… hurt people just for the sake of it.” He faltered for a moment, the weight of his thoughts heavy on his chest. “And I won’t tell anyone what I know. About you. About being a vigilante.”

There was a long silence. The words hung in the air, heavy with their meaning, and for a moment, Midoriya thought Touya wasn’t going to say anything at all. Then, after what felt like an eternity, the softest chuckle escaped him.

"Good," Touya said, his voice light, but with an edge of something darker beneath it. "I’d hate to worry the others."

Midoriya found himself smiling, though it was small and uncertain. At least he knew Touya still cared about his siblings and Keigo. It was a small thing, but it made him feel like there was still some humanity in the person standing beside him. Maybe things weren’t as simple as he thought, but at least some things hadn’t changed.

When they arrived at his apartment building, Touya gave him a boost up to his window, helping him inside before waving a quick, silent goodbye. Midoriya turned and made his way to the window, closing it softly behind him and locking it with a quiet click.

Getting back into his room was easy enough; it was the small details that tripped him up. Slipping into his pajamas quietly was one thing, but putting his clothes back in the closet where his mom had neatly folded them? That was another. She always made sure his clothes were perfectly organized, placed just so, and Midoriya couldn’t help but hope she wouldn’t notice if he’d put them back out of place.

The weight of the night finally settled on him. Exhaustion crept in, seeping deep into his bones like a slow tide. His body felt heavy, the pressure of everything he had experienced pressing him down. With a sigh, he shuffled back to bed, the sheets welcoming him like a quiet refuge. He tucked himself in, pulling the covers tight around him, and closed his eyes, allowing sleep to pull him into its embrace. It wasn’t peace, but it was all he could manage for now.

Chapter Text

The city never truly slept. Even in the quietest parts of town, the hum of distant traffic and the flickering of neon signs gave life to the shadows. People hurried home, pulling their coats tighter around themselves, keeping their heads down. They moved with purpose but also with the quiet, unspoken fear of what lurked beyond the pools of streetlight.

Tonight, Izuku was part of that unseen world.

His breath came in quick, shallow bursts as he pressed himself against the rough brick of an alleyway, the cool surface grounding him. His heart pounded against his ribs, the rhythm erratic and electric. He peeked around the corner just in time to spot the mugger—a lanky man in a dark hoodie, weaving through the streets like a rat escaping a trap. The stolen purse dangled from his hand, its thin leather strap bouncing with each step.

"He's fast," Izuku murmured, his voice barely above a whisper.

"Not faster than me," Touya replied, his breath escaping in a faint plume of heat against the night air. He didn’t look worried. If anything, he looked excited—like a predator about to pounce.

Izuku swallowed hard and nodded, wiping his sweaty palms against his hoodie. This was it . Their first real intervention. His nerves buzzed with adrenaline, but beneath the thrill, something heavier pressed at the back of his mind—a whisper of doubt.

But before he could dwell on it, Touya took off, his long strides devouring the distance between him and the mugger.

The man darted toward a side street, slipping into a tight alley. A smart move—narrow spaces made it harder for a pursuer to close in.

But not against them.

Izuku inhaled sharply, fingers brushing against cool metal as he pulled a stopwatch from his hoodie pocket.

Stop.

He pressed the button.

The world lurched . Everything around him snapped into an unnatural stillness—the distant hum of traffic vanished, neon shop signs dimmed to grayscale, and the wind, streetlights, even drifting leaves hung motionless.

So did the mugger.

The man’s foot hovered inches above the pavement, body locked mid-stride. His wide, startled eyes were frozen in place.

Izuku moved.

Walking through stopped time wasn’t exactly hard . It just felt…off. Like pushing through unseen resistance. The longer he held the freeze, the heavier the air became, thick like molasses, every step requiring more effort than the last.

But he had trained for this.

His endurance had grown, honed through years of training on top of trial and error. He’d been careful today, saving his strength, avoiding using his Quirk entirely until now. One hour . That was all he got in a single day. No matter how much he trained, no matter how hard he pushed, he never managed to stretch it beyond that exact limit. Not even a second longer.

And it always reset at midnight.

Got to make it count.

Reaching out, he pried the purse from stiff fingers. The leather was smooth, unnervingly cold—untouched by the man’s warmth.

Moving people, though, was different.

They weren’t like statues or regular objects frozen solid in time. Living things retained just the faintest trace of motion—a pliability beneath the stillness. It was like pushing against half-set concrete. You could move them, but it took effort. And more importantly, you had to be careful.

Because in frozen time, force didn’t vanish.

It built up.

Any energy used to move a living being didn’t disperse—it transferred. Compressed. Waiting. And the moment time resumed, that force snapped forward all at once, like letting go of a tightly wound spring.

He learned that the hard way.

One afternoon after classes, Persephone had snatched an All Might keychain from his bag—a birthday gift from Natsuo—and held it just out of reach, laughing. Annoyed, Izuku had frozen time, peeled it from her fingers, and repositioned her hand so the keychain fell into his.

Only... he hadn’t accounted for the angle. Her fingers were fully extended when time restarted.

And the force that had been held in place surged forward.

He still heard it, sometimes. The sharp, brittle crack as every finger on that hand snapped backward.

Persie had a regeneration Quirk, thank god, so the injury wasn’t something she had to deal with for long. The nurse reset and braced her hand, and within minutes she was fine. She even laughed it off, saying it was her fault too.

But Izuku hadn’t laughed.

If anything he felt sick .

He never forgot the look on her face—that flicker of pain before the healing kicked in. Since then, he always second-guessed every move he made in frozen time. Because time wasn't the only thing he was playing with.

A dull ache throbbed at the base of his skull—his body’s warning. Not pain, not yet. Just a reminder that his time was limited.

He flicked his gaze to the stopwatch.

3 minutes, 23 seconds.

Not bad , he thought. His fingers twitched. Time to move .

The moment his hand left the mugger’s skin, the world snapped back into motion.

A ragged gasp tore from the man’s throat as his momentum surged forward, nearly sending him tumbling. “What the—?” His voice cracked with confusion, his eyes darting around wildly as if the seconds he’d lost had been stolen from him.

Then Touya was there .

A streak of motion. A burst of heat.

Before the mugger could react, Touya's hand clamped down on his jacket and yanked. The force sent the man slamming into the alley wall with a sickening thud. His head snapped back against the bricks, and a choked noise escaped his lips.

The sharp scent of scorched fabric filled the air. Touya’s flames licked hungrily at the edges of the man’s hoodie, the heat distorting the air between them.

“Thought you could just run off?” Touya murmured, his voice laced with amusement.

Izuku felt his stomach twist.

The mugger thrashed, his breaths turning frantic as the heat grew unbearable. "I—I didn’t know—!"

"Didn’t know what?" Touya’s fingers flexed, his flames flaring brighter. His control was razor-thin—the fire didn’t spread, but it wanted to. He was holding back.

Barely.

Izuku swallowed hard, fighting the dizziness still clawing at his skull. He had held his Quirk too long. His body still hadn’t caught up with the world’s sudden shift. But none of that mattered— Touya wasn’t stopping .

“Hey,” Izuku stepped forward, voice careful. “We got the purse back. Let him go.”

The man nodded frantically. “Yeah! Please, I swear—I won’t—”

For a moment, it was as if Touya didn’t hear them. His eyes burned—not just from the fire, but with something deeper, something hungry .

Izuku’s pulse spiked.

“Tou-,” he tried again, then caught himself. Idiot . They hadn’t bothered with codenames, but saying his real name? To someone that could be used by the police to identify them? That was reckless.

“I—I mean, uh—come on, we’re done. We got the purse back. He’s not worth your Quirk.”

The words landed like a stone skipping across water. For a moment, nothing changed.

Then Izuku reached out with a shaking hand and gripped Touya’s arm.

That did it. Touya blinked, like something in his mind had snapped back into place.

And then, without a word, he let go.

The mugger hit the ground hard , gasping like he’d just escaped a burning building. He scrambled backward on shaking limbs before managing to bolt, his footsteps loud and uneven as he disappeared into the night.

Izuku exhaled, forcing his shoulders to loosen. His fingers ached from how tightly he’d been clenching them.

“We should go,” he muttered.

Touya didn’t move right away. He was still watching the alley’s exit, lips slightly parted, like he wasn’t ready for the fight to be over. But then he turned back to Midoriya and grinned.

“See? Easy.” He stretched, the tension bleeding from his frame as if nothing had happened. “Bastard will think twice before trying that again.”

Midoriya didn’t answer right away. His gaze flickered down to the purse still clutched in his hands. Further down the street, he could make out its owner—shaky, hunched over a phone, almost definitely calling the cops.

They needed to leave.

But he couldn’t just waltz up and hand over the bag. Not after all this. It was impossible to tell how far away the cops were. He’d have to use his Quirk again to return it without being seen. The thought alone sent another pulse of exhaustion through his skull. 

His hands still trembled. From the adrenaline. From the strain of stopping time. From something else entirely.

But then Touya clapped a hand on his shoulder, firm and grounding. “Nice job, kid.”

And something warm bloomed in his chest.

So he shoved the guilt down—deep, where it wouldn’t reach him.

And after he returned the bag and they slipped into the night, unseen and victorious, he told himself that maybe—just maybe—this wasn’t so bad after all.

___________

The first few nights had been sloppy.

Izuku had underestimated how much energy his Quirk drained. His hands shook after every fight, his breath came in shallow gasps, and his vision blurred more often than he’d admit. Touya had underestimated how easy it was to lose control—not just of the heat, but of the fear in people’s eyes. The screaming. The running. The way even the guilty looked small when they were cowering in a corner.

But even with the bruises they collected like trophies, the mistakes—the shaky landings, the near misses, the noise—it was working .

They stopped criminals. They made a difference.

Or so Izuku told himself.

The areas they patrolled grew quieter at night. But not in the way he expected. The homeless people disappeared, retreating deeper into the shadows. Windows that had once flickered with late-night TV now stayed dark. People no longer lingered outside corner stores or walked their dogs after sunset. The silence wasn’t peaceful—it was heavy .

Still, Izuku clung to the idea that they were doing good. Touya said they were.

When the police presence started increasing, Touya told him it was time to move—find another part of town, somewhere quieter, with less attention. Somewhere they could keep "cleaning up" without being seen.

And so, night after night, they did it again.

At first, Izuku’s heart pounded with anxiety every time he slipped out the window, pockets packed with supplies, and a mask pulled tight around his face. But the more they did it, the more that fear turned into something else. Something warm and sharp and fast. The thrill of it buzzed under his skin like static—like a secret he wasn’t supposed to have. His Quirk is finally being used for something. Something important.

There was nothing like it—outsmarting criminals, predicting their movements, freezing time just long enough to tilt the odds. The first time someone mistook him as a “ghost,” whispering it in fear before running, Touya had grinned the whole way home. teasing that Ghost just might become his code name.

Touya was the hammer, and Izuku was the hand guiding the strike.

They learned each other’s rhythms, until it felt like instinct. Well…he learned Touya’s rhythm. Izuku would dart ahead, heart racing, sketching quick maps in his notebook, whispering strategies. He calculated exits, planned chokepoints, left chalk marks on walls for Touya to follow.

And Touya—Touya would ignore half of it.

He’d charge in anyway, fire flaring high, explosions lighting up alleyways. Izuku would watch from the shadows as criminals screamed and scrambled, their weapons melting in their hands, their skin blistering from heat too close. Sometimes, Touya wouldn’t stop right away. Sometimes, he'd throw one last blast after someone had already dropped their weapon.

Izuku started rewriting his plans more often. Trying to account for the chaos. Trying to figure out how to make their work cleaner. Safer .

“Why didn’t you go left like we talked about?” he asked once, after a man had jumped from a fire escape rather than face Touya’s flames. He’d survived, but he’d broken both his legs and probably his hips too. Luckily he had a phone on him which Izuku could use to call him an ambulance.

Touya just shrugged, dragging the back of his hand across his mouth, leaving a smear of soot. “Plans don’t always survive a fight. You’ll get it eventually. Real fights—they’re messy. You think the ones on the news look cleaner because they cut the worst parts. Heroes don’t want kids seeing what it’s really like.”

Izuku had swallowed hard and nodded. It made sense, after all they censored cursing and blood in the news all the time. So it made sense that fights shown would only show the safest parts. But something about that didn’t sit right.

He wanted to believe Touya. Touya trusted him. No one had ever relied on him like that before. Not even Shouto.

That thought stung more than it should’ve. The first splinter of guilt.

Shouto wouldn’t approve of this. His mom definitely wouldn’t. Heroes weren’t supposed to fight in secret. They weren’t supposed to use fear like a weapon. But Touya said they were making the city safer.

And Izuku wanted that to be true.

Still, he started noticing more.

The way shop owners would glance nervously at them when they passed. The way people muttered behind locked doors. The graffiti spreading on alley walls—“Keep Away” or worse, “Watch out for the Blaze Wraith,”. One night, they saw a woman picking her daughter up eyes wide with panic, even though the girl had only scraped her knee. She didn’t ask for help. She ran.

Izuku had reached out, frozen in place. “We should’ve—” he started.

“She’s fine,” Touya had interrupted. “Keep moving.”

Izuku wanted to say something more. But he didn’t. He never did. Not when Touya's voice got sharp like that. Not when the heat rose around him like a warning.

And then came the praise.

"You’re a natural," Touya would say after missions, clapping a hand on his shoulder. The heat from his palm would soak through Izuku’s jacket, and Izuku would hold his breath, pretending it didn’t burn a little. "Faster than some actual heroes I’ve met."

And Izuku would light up inside. He’d grin, even when his ribs ached. Even when his hands shook from overusing his Quirk. He’d swallow down the uneasy twisting in his stomach.

Because Touya believed in him.

And maybe that meant he could fix this. Maybe he could steer them back on track—prove he was useful and make things better. Maybe he just had to try harder. Plan better. Be smarter.

For the first time, he wasn’t just an Omega. He wasn’t fragile, and he wasn’t something to be dismissed. Touya saw him as strong. As someone capable and someone who could make a difference. If he gave up now, then all the fear in people’s eyes—all the shadows they left behind—would mean nothing. It would be the only legacy either of them left behind. A shadow they would never shed from the back of their minds. 

And Izuku couldn’t let that happen.

___________

Touya had never felt so alive.

The rush of heat in his veins, the crackle of flames licking off his skin, the raw satisfaction of watching some lowlife finally realize they weren’t walking away from this one—it was perfect. That moment when bravado melted into fear, when the scum started to beg ? That was what made it worth it. That was what made him smile .

The world was full of bastards who thought they could do whatever they wanted—abusers, smugglers, creeps who hurt people just because they could. And if someone had to teach them a lesson, fine. Let it be him. Let it be violent . He was good at that.

He wasn’t trying to be a hero.

He had tried deluding himself in the beginning, but he wasn’t blind to his methods. Heroes didn’t like the fight. They didn’t lean into it. They didn’t laugh when their enemies screamed. They didn’t feel that split-second high when a body hit the pavement, stunned and smoking.

But Touya did.

And Izuku?

The kid was smart. Scary smart.

Touya hadn’t expected much at first. Eleven years old. Scrawny. A wide-eyed little Omega with a permanent nervous twitch in his fingers and a voice too small to bark orders at anything stronger than a housecat.

If not for that Quirk—and the way it made escape routes laughably easy—Touya wouldn’t have brought him along at all.

But he had , and the kid had surprised him.

Not just with his Quirk—though, yeah, that was a game-changer. Time-stopping wasn’t just useful, it was perfect . Tactical and downright terrifying if you knew how to use it.

Which Touya did.

No, what really caught Touya off guard was everything else.

The way the kid moved—fast, precise, always just out of reach. Slipping under grabs, vaulting over obstacles, striking sharp and clean like he’d been trained at some after-school ninja bootcamp.

Guess all those extracurriculars he'd begged his mom for were actually paying off.

Izuku was clever. Methodical. Organized to the point it almost made Touya’s teeth itch. They didn’t usually go after anyone big—mostly pickpockets, drunks, the occasional creep. But when Touya got bored, which was often, he’d suggest something spicier. Small-time gangs. The kind that thought numbers made them dangerous.

Izuku would light up like it was homework he wanted to do. He’d scout the area, chart out routes, mark escape points—then scribble it all down in that little black notebook like they were on some covert pro-hero op. Before every mission, he’d hand over a page. Neat bullet points. Sharp arrows. Breakdowns on who did what and where.

Like they were pros.

Touya thought it was kind of adorable.

He’d nod along, let the kid explain every last detail, and then toss the plan the second things kicked off.

Because where was the fun in following a script?

Touya didn’t want clean. He didn’t want simple. He wanted to feel it . The fire in his chest, the heat against his skin, the split-second decision-making that left his enemies in pieces and himself barely standing. That was the point. That was the thrill .

Izuku didn’t get that yet.

He was always trying to end things quickly. Efficiently. Non-lethally. Like a real hero would. Like he thought there was still some kind of line they hadn’t already crossed.

Touya let him think that.

He let the kid feel useful, with his plans and his carefully drawn exits. He let him believe he was helping.

Because he was helping—just not the way he thought.

The moment things got messy, when the flames got too high or the sirens got too close, all Touya had to do was shout and that Quirk would flare. Time would freeze. They’d be gone before the smoke even cleared.

It made Touya untouchable.

And that was worth putting up with a few lectures about strategy.

Still, he liked the kid.

Izuku was earnest in a way Touya couldn’t remember ever being. Determined. Loyal. He followed Touya without question—except when he did, nervously, voice tight behind his mask, asking why things always got so bad. Why Touya didn’t stop when they had the chance.

Touya would shrug and tell him the truth.

“Plans don’t always survive a fight. You’ll get it eventually. Real fights—they’re messy. You think the ones on the news look cleaner because they cut the worst parts. Heroes don’t want kids seeing what it’s really like.”

Izuku always went quiet after that. Tense. Thoughtful. Like he was trying to square Touya’s answers with the image of heroism he’d grown up worshiping.

It was cute. And naive. But Touya didn’t push it. Let him hang on to his little ideals a while longer. Let him believe he could make this all fit in his head.

Because sooner or later, the world would beat that hope out of him.

It always did.

But in the meantime, Izuku was reliable. He was fast, sharp, and damn near impossible to catch. And whether or not the kid knew it, they were in this together. Family by default. An accomplice by choice.

And if Touya was being honest—he kind of liked having him around.

Someone to share the rush with.

Someone to witness it.

Because it wasn’t enough to fight. Touya wanted someone to see him fighting. To understand what it meant to burn like this.

Even if Izuku didn’t yet.

He would.

Eventually.

___________

The kitchen was warm with the scent of miso soup, the soft clatter of utensils filling the space as Izuku stirred the mixture in his bowl. Across from him, Shouto carefully measured ingredients for their school project—a homemade nutritional chart they were assembling for health class.

Well, it was for Izuku’s assignment. But between their individual training and classes, the pair didn’t have many chances to hang out together. So Shouto had offered to help, then maybe watch an All Might film before heading home.

A part of Izuku had been looking forward to it. A quiet night, just them, no pressure.

But even now, with something as simple as a school project, the weight of his double life pressed down on him, an invisible hand wrapping around his throat, making it hard to breathe.

"Are you sure you’re okay?"

The question was so gentle it nearly made him break.

Shouto didn’t look up from his work as he asked, his voice even but laced with something softer—concern.

Izuku didn’t flinch this time. The question had become routine.

He had gotten better at lying.

"I’m fine," he said, voice even, casual. He forced a small smile and focused on smoothing out the wrinkles in their worksheet.

Shouto finally looked up, mismatched eyes scanning Izuku’s face.

"You’ve been acting weird."

Izuku let out a short laugh, feigning amusement. "You sound like my mom."

Shouto didn’t laugh.

"You’re tired all the time. You zone out in class. Even your hands shake sometimes."

The words landed like a punch to the gut, stealing the air from Izuku’s lungs.

He forced himself to keep his expression neutral, eyes fixed on the paper in front of him. His grip on the pencil tightened, knuckles white. "I guess I’ve just been training more," he said, mirroring the same excuse he had given before. "I want to get stronger."

It wasn’t a total lie. He was getting stronger.

But not in the way Shouto assumed.

Not in a way that would make anyone proud.

Shouto watched him for a long moment, his gaze steady, unreadable.

“...You’ll tell me if something's wrong, right?” he asked eventually, his voice quieter. “You’re my best friend. I want to help you if I can. We’re a team, aren’t we?”

The words nearly shattered him.

Izuku’s heart trembled in his chest, the truth clawing its way up his throat. He wanted to tell Shouto—he wanted to.

But if he did, then what?

Shouto would be ashamed of him. He would try to talk him out of it, and what if he was right?

What if Touya had been wrong about all of this?

But then Touya’s voice echoed in his mind, wrapping around him like chains.

Izuku swallowed past the lump in his throat and forced another smile, one he hoped was more convincing.

"Of course, I’ll tell you."

The words tasted like ash.

"But it’s really nothing," he added quickly, brushing off Shouto’s concern before he could dig deeper. "I think I just need to get more sleep."

Shouto studied him, his gaze sharp, searching for cracks. Izuku wondered if he could see them—if he could see how fragile this mask really was.

"...Okay," Shouto finally said, though the hesitation in his voice made it clear he didn’t believe him.

Izuku let out a slow breath, relief settling over him like a thin sheet of ice—fragile, ready to shatter at any moment.

Lying had become necessary.

But that didn’t ease the pain in his chest every time he did it.

___________

The night was supposed to be simple.

Patrolling had been unusually quiet— too quiet, honestly. Bored and restless, Touya had started dragging them through sketchy alleyways, clearly hoping some drunk would be dumb enough to pick a fight.

Instead, they overheard something better.

Passing a noisy bar, they caught wind of a half-sloshed conversation—two men loudly plotting a convenience store robbery. Apparently, a cashier had dumped one of them, and now he was out for revenge. Bitter, petty, and wasted—exactly the kind of idiots who thought planning a crime out loud was a smart move.

Touya, of course, wanted to jump in immediately. Take them out before they got the chance to do anything.

But Izuku stopped him.

“Wait,” he whispered, grabbing Touya’s arm before he could storm off. “We should let them go.”

Touya looked at him like he’d just suggested they adopt the criminals. “What? Why the hell would we do that? They literally admitted they’re about to commit a crime. We stop crimes.”

“I know, but—what if there’s more of them?” Izuku said quickly, voice low but steady. “If we wait until they’re all in one place, we can catch everyone at once.”

He hesitated, then added the real hook: “It’ll be a bigger fight.”

That gave Touya pause.

He narrowed his eyes, weighing the thrill of an ambush against the promise of a real brawl. After a beat, he nodded.

“Fine,” he muttered. “We’ll wait.”

The plan was simple.

In and out. Stop the robbery. Tie them up. Slip away before anyone noticed.

But Izuku should’ve known better by now.

Nothing ever went that smoothly.

___________

The robbery was set to take place three nights later. Izuku had been careful, avoiding any use of his Quirk that entire day to ensure he had the full hour available.

But in the end, it didn’t matter.

That night, crime spiked. A purse snatching. A home invasion. Three muggings. Too many close calls with the cops. Each incident chipped away at his time, forcing him to use nearly forty-five minutes of his Quirk. At one point, he’d even forgotten to check his stopwatch, leaving him unsure of exactly how much he had left.

And the night refused to slow down.

Izuku had been right about the robbery involving more than just the two men from the bar.

He just hadn’t expected five .

Crouched behind a parked car, he watched through the convenience store window, his stomach twisting. The men inside were loud and frantic, waving their guns as they barked orders. The cashier—a girl barely older than Touya—was sobbing, her hands trembling as one of the men shoved his gun in her face.

Sloppy. They weren’t professionals, just desperate idiots trying to make a quick score and get some revenge.

Izuku wanted to believe that was all it was. That they’d take the cash and run. But what if the man holding the gun was bitter enough to pull the trigger?

Beside him, Touya shifted restlessly. "I can take them."

Izuku grabbed his wrist before he could move. "No fire," he hissed. "It’s too obvious! Plus, the store is small—you’ll burn the whole place down!"

Touya gave him a look of pure disbelief. "Then what? We ask them nicely to stop?"

Izuku took a shaky breath, tightening his grip on Touya’s wrist. Think. Think. They couldn’t afford to waste time.

"We take them by surprise," Izuku whispered. "Fast. We get inside, grab their weapons, and knock them out before they know what hit them."

Touya arched a brow. "And how do we do that, exactly?"

Izuku tapped the stopwatch strapped to his wrist, his pulse hammering in his ears. "I freeze time. You grab the guns. We get them on the ground before they can react."

Touya frowned, considering. "I’d rather go in head-on." Then, after a beat, his lips twitched into a grin. "But it’s not a bad plan."

It was the best option they had.

But with less than fifteen minutes of his Quirk left, Izuku had to be quick.

Touya seemed to read his hesitation. He pulled his mask up over his face, his voice lowering. "You’re low on time, right?"

Izuku nodded, confused by the sudden shift.

"Then only freeze time long enough to get their weapons out of reach. You take their stuff outside, and I’ll take them down. You can save the rest of your time for our escape."

Izuku exhaled, steadying himself. This had to work.

No mistakes.