Chapter Text
When Izuku went back to school the next day, he took his lunch outside. He and Ekikyō settled on a nice, secluded bench by the pools. With how cold it had gotten in the last week, the place was abandoned.
“Izuku, I’m sure your friends would still want you to sit with them,” Ekikyō said.
Izuku sighed and lifted another bite of oden to his mouth. “I know. That’s not why I’m out here.” When Ekikyō pressed an unspoken question against his mind, Izuku continued, “I…don’t know if I’ll be able to resist crying again if I see him.”
It still hurt so much if he stopped to think about their fight and the way Hitoshi had stormed out after. Every passing thought of him had tears welling in their eyes and an ache consuming their heart and lungs. Izuku swallowed and idly stirred their bowl of oden with his chopsticks, suddenly not hungry.
Ekikyō sighed, sadness drifting over from his half of their mind. “Okay, fair. Here, I’ll finish lunch if you don’t feel up to it. We shouldn’t miss a second meal this week. Unless you want a lecture from Recovery Girl?”
Izuku huffed a single laugh and offered no resistance when Ekikyō slid into full control to polish off their meal. This situation was a familiar one. Izuku’s appetite had never quite bounced back after the Hassaikai. Most days were fine now, but sometimes he just…wasn’t interested. The doctors had never been able to find anything wrong with his body to explain it, so they labeled it as a psychogenic issue.
Regardless of the source of the problem, Ekikyō made sure it didn’t impact their recovery. Izuku knew his friend worried about him, so he tried to force himself to eat at mealtimes regardless. It didn’t relieve Ekikyō’s concern as much as he’d hoped. There was something else he could do in this situation though. “Tomorrow in homeroom, I’ll ask Hatsume to hang back at the Development Studio at lunch, so we can eat with her there.”
“Well, it’s a start.” Ekikyō mentally shoved him, emotions more teasing than worried now.
They finished out lunch in companionable silence before heading for Nezu’s office and Izuku’s afternoon classes. To their surprise, Nezu didn’t dive right in like usual.
“The Culture Festival is fast approaching, and having an analysis student this year raises a unique question.”
“Where to put the kid,” Ekikyō said, understanding the problem. Normally, students were divided by homeroom for the festival, but the Support students of 1-H would be showcasing their inventions for investors and recruiters, something Izuku couldn’t take part in with no contraptions of his own.
“Precisely,” Nezu agreed. “Now, I have a potential solution, though it is unconventional.”
Izuku and Ekikyō leaned forward to show their interest.
“To keep with the theme of your chosen track, you’ll be analyzing the Culture Festival itself. You’ll utilize information on previous festivals to predict engagement with each class’s project, potential security issues, and overall turnout. Of course, I’ll provide you with the list of class assignments, plans for the festival’s layout, and a summary of current security measures. As of this morning, class assignments have been finalized, so you won’t need to worry about those being switched last minute.”
When Nezu saw their apprehensive expression, he added, “Consider this practice for large events such as the Sports Festival; there is a surprising amount of logistics and juggling of personnel involved behind the scenes. Occasionally, an analyst may be called upon by a venue to run a threat assessment or assist in arranging available heroes to greatest effect for a public event. The Commission has an entire team dedicated to running the annual Billboard Chart and Licensing Exams as smoothly as possible.”
“That sounds like a lot…”
“Alternatively, you could work with the business course you share classes with at their food stall.”
Izuku grimaced. Yeah, no, he’d really rather not spend more time around those students than he needed to. And at a food stall? That was just asking to get nasty fryer grease or something dumped on him. “I’ll take the event analysis.”
“Excellent! You’ll be turning it in the morning of the festival.”
Izuku made a surprised, and probably distressed, noise in the back of his throat. That was less than two weeks away!
“On the bright side, turning it in the morning of will ensure you are free to enjoy the festivities with Eri the rest of the day.”
Oh, Nezu had done that on purpose. Izuku relaxed some and nodded. “I take it our lessons until then will be covering events like this?”
Nezu smiled. “Correct. We’ll be integrating what you’ve already learned about hero and villain analysis. Now we pick our battlefield—UA in the instance of the Culture Festival—and start running through possible combinations and outcomes and how to increase the chance of the best outcomes coming to fruition. Later, we’ll apply the same to the planning of raids and other events.”
“Yeesh, what’s next? Taking over the world?” Ekikyō asked in the privacy of their mind.
“Please don’t tempt fate. I’m not sure I’d put it past Nezu,” Izuku countered.
---
In the following days, Izuku wondered if there might have been a secret second reason for Nezu springing this project on him at the last minute. He was so busy combing through records of previous years’ Culture Festivals in the library and crafting his own report that he didn’t have much time to wallow.
When the weekend came, Izuku and Ekikyō were ready for a break and an excuse to get off campus. Hatsume hadn’t made a big deal out of the breakup or asked any questions beyond why they weren’t eating in the library, but Uraraka and Todoroki had questions that Izuku really didn’t want to or couldn’t answer.
“Hero students meddling? Perish the thought,” Ekikyō said.
Izuku could feel the sarcasm and rolled their eyes as they disembarked from their train in Uonuma. They shivered violently at the sharp wind that greeted them. The cold front Musutafu was expecting tonight had already hit here, it seemed. They bowed their head and hurried down the street to the abandoned building they’d scouted a few visits back. The lack of cameras in the surrounding area and its location on the eastern edge of town made it an ideal place to change into their disguise while offering some protection from the elements. They shivered again. Maybe they’d change into that thermal undershirt and scarf they’d packed too.
A quick change and light jog later brought them to The League’s base. Sure, they were a little out of breath from how little skin they had exposed to breathe through, but they were warm—well, warm-ish. They certainly didn’t protest when Mr. Compress handed them a steaming cup of tea as they entered.
They gratefully sipped at the drink and noted how cozy and warm the inside of the building was. “I guess you found that last hole that needed patching?” Sludge asked as they settled onto the sofa beside the bundled-up Spinner and significantly less bundled Magne.
Magne nodded, looking up from the shirt she was mending. “That we did. There was a gap between the AC unit and the outside wall in the attic. Got it all sealed up now. Just in time too by the way you’re shaking.”
Sludge grumbled and downed half of their tea, happily noting the lack of metallic undertone. “Wouldn’t be so bad, except I tend to pull extra oxygen through my host’s skin when I’m in control like this. Loses us a ton of body heat though.”
“Lucky for you, the kuri’s almost done,” Twice called from the kitchenette. “Don’t go eating all of it! I mean, we could just make more.”
“Kuri?” Sludge asked, one eyebrow raised.
Spinner chuckled. “Shigaraki found a chestnut tree. Dabi convinced him not to dust it. Now we’re up to our eyeballs in nuts.”
“Pretty sure we already were with you lot here,” Dabi said as he descended the stairs.
Sludge waved a greeting to the arsonist as they finished their tea. Then they pushed themselves up off the sofa to take their cup to the sink. Twice handed them a steaming bowl of kuri and a mug of water in exchange.
Pretty soon, everyone else was settled in the living area with their own bowls of kuri and drinks. As they ate, Toga snuck the remote away from Spinner and switched the tv from whatever kendo competition he’d been watching.
“Hey!”
Toga stuck her tongue out at Spinner and moved out of reach, knowing he wasn’t likely to leave his nest of blankets to chase her. “You’ve been watching all day. My turn!”
Spinner sulked and sank further into his spot on the sofa. “As long as it’s not some slasher again.”
Toga channel surfed for a while before landing on a news station talking about something other than a hero or villain. “Last minute preparations for this year’s Karatsu Kunchi are in full swing here in Saga Prefecture. The parade route’s already been cordoned off and traffic diverted. Hotels and streets are filling up fast, and some holiday vendors have already set up shop.” The reporter pointed behind her to a booth with standard tourist souvenirs. “So far we have confirmed sightings of Hawks, Gang Orca, and Shishido in the area, and online fans are eagerly betting on who else may make a guest appearance at this year’s hikiyama march…”
“Oh yeah, it’s almost that time again,” Magne said, setting her mending aside. “I went there once when I was little. One of the booths there made a mean kabocha croquette.”
Mr. Compress hummed in agreement. “I always enjoyed sampling the year’s sake.”
Dabi raised an eyebrow at him and asked, “Hiyaoroshi or akiagari?”
Mr. Compress made an affronted sound. “Hiyaoroshi, of course.”
Spinner chuckled. “My mom used to grab some of the hachiya persimmons each year. We’d eat them while watching the stream of the hikiyama march.”
“Ugh, it’s so hard to get those ripe though,” Toga bemoaned.
Spinner just shook his head. “Nah. You just have to hang them in the window and wait for them to finish ripening. If they sold them all ripe at the store, they’d go bad immediately.”
“But that takes forever!”
Sludge considered their own experience with this time of year. “I like the fresh saury that’s everywhere this time of year.” Picking at the second set of memories in their mind, they added, “My host seems partial to yakiimo.”
Everyone glanced at Shigaraki, waiting for his input. The man bristled slightly under the attention and muttered, “The seasonal KitKats.”
They ribbed each other for their fall favorites a bit longer as the news showed highlights of the previous year’s festival. Karatsu Kunchi had turned from a local event to a national celebration after the Dawn of Quirks and the Quirk War. Sludge suspected it was largely due to the government wanting everyone to focus on their shared heritage as a country rather than just how much everyone differed after quirks came onto the scene. Unity and community and all that jazz. (A more bitter part of them thought it might also have been an attempt to make people forget all the bloodshed and hate by putting on a big show and celebration.)
The three-day festival had grown accordingly to take up the whole first week of November, ending in many of Japan’s public schools hosting their Culture Festivals that weekend. It was still based out of Karatsu, but just about every major city had a few festival-themed vendors and seasonal food shops that popped up in the days leading up to the festival’s kick-off. Most bars opened early to host watch parties for the procession and betting pools on what bigwigs would show up each year.
There were a few recurring faces—primarily Hawks for the proximity of the festival to Fukuoka, but Gang Orca made it almost every year too (something about solidarity and the kako-machi float). A lot of other heroes came in from other parts of Japan to work security for the festival. Many of them got dragged into the parade itself or the quirk showcases that had been added to the festivities in the last 150 years.
The quirk nerd part of Sludge loved to watch those even more than the parade. (How many times could you watch the same 14 floats travel down the same route every year before getting bored?) Their mind drifted to the last parade they—well, part of them—had watched, and their mood soured. Tanabata had been so enjoyable because of the company. And now…
Sludge wrapped protective layers around that aching sense of loss. At least there weren’t any fireworks at this festival. That would be one less reminder for the wounded part of them.
Someone nudged their left arm and leaned into their space. Sludge focused back on the present to find Toga sitting on the arm of the sofa and draping herself over them. “You okay?” she whispered. “You’re sad.”
How? Sludge had theorized Toga had heightened senses to help her track down blood/prey, but come on. Since when could she smell someone’s emotional state? “I’m fine.”
Toga did not look convinced. They stared at each other for a minute before Toga smirked and turned to say, “Big Sis—"
They slapped a slimy hand over Toga’s mouth to stop her.
Magne raised an eyebrow at them.
Toga licked their hand—which was covered in slime—and immediately made a face. Served her right.
Sludge sighed and stood up, dragging a giggling Toga with them as they headed upstairs for some modicum of privacy. Once away from the others they released the teen. In a hushed voice, they said, “Fine. I’m okay, but my host is an emotional wreck after a messy breakup. Happy?”
Toga frowned. “Is Arita awake right now?”
Sludge tensed and glanced down the stairs. No obvious eavesdroppers. Still, they nodded instead of answering out loud.
“This is for him,” she said before crushing them in a hug.
The piece of them that Sludge usually protected slowly melted into an overwhelmed puddle, and Sludge let them, chuckling at the incoherent attempts at communication in their head. “He appreciates it,” they said, hugging Toga back.
“Give me a name, and I’ll make them regret it?” Toga asked, all feigned innocence and genuine sincerity.
That seemed to snap the heartbroken part of Sludge back into focus. “No.”
“Oh, come on. Just a little maiming? A light stabbing?”
Sludge shook their head. “Nope. Sorry, my host’s still hopelessly in love with the idiot. Can’t let you go cutting them up.”
Toga released them and took a step back to make sure they could see her pouting. “Pretty please? I’ll even be careful to make sure they don’t bleed out!” she added, bouncing in place.
Sludge laughed at Toga’s antics, relaxing a little as all of them focused on Toga and not on the person who made them hurt. They could see what she did there. “How about we go outside and spar instead?”
Toga smiled and twirled a knife that appeared seemingly from nowhere. “I can live with that!”
Once outside, Toga bounded ahead to lead the way. After a few moments of silence, she asked, “So, your host’s in love?”
Would it be too much to ask that Toga didn’t make this weird? Probably. Sludge sighed. “Yeah, he’s got it bad. And before you ask, no he doesn’t want to be them; he just wants to be with them and do everything with them. It’s like watching one of those cheesy romance movies they start playing before Christmas.”
Toga squealed and blushed, turning to face them as she walked backward. “That’s adorable! What happened?”
“They had an argument, and the other one decided they ‘couldn’t do this.’ Not sure if it’ll stick, but they’re on the outs right now. First person who’s ever given my host the time of day considering…” Sludge waved at their feet. Toga already knew ‘Arita’ was quirkless, so she caught the hint. Once they saw the understanding in her eyes, they continued, “My host already had abandonment issues, so they’ve not been taking it well.”
Toga’s expression turned grim. “And you’re sure I can’t stab them?”
Sludge smiled. “Yeah, we’re sure. Arita still loves them, but neither of them’s into bloodplay like you. And Arita’s not as possessive as me; if he wants to let his SO go for now, that’s his choice. We’ll just have to respect it. More than one way to love someone, you know?”
Toga seemed to think that over as they finally rounded the mound of gravel to find a flat, grassy area beside the parking lot. Falling here would be a lot gentler than on the lot itself. They could even see a few scorch marks and gouges in the dirt to indicate other spars had already happened here. A decayed expanse of grass and dirt separated the rough sparring ring from the surrounding forest. (Was that on purpose to keep any fires from catching, or had Tomura thrown a fit, and the others had just taken advantage?)
Sludge moved their body into a few stretches and worked the slime under their skin to loosen their muscles further. “This the place?”
“Yep! I want to see how you two fight when Arita’s awake.”
“Fair warning, we might be a little rusty. Haven’t fought much since the Hassaikai. Stamina’s not 100% yet either, but we’ll make it interesting for you.”
“Wouldn’t want anything less!” Toga chirped, dancing her way to the other side of the clearing.
Once done with their stretches, Sludge took their own position and let up on their hold on the younger part of their mind. “Let’s spar,” they said. And spar they did, until all three of them were bloodied and bruised and panting. If Ekikyō let Izuku closer to the surface than usual during the spars, well that was between them and Toga.
Outtakes:
Toga: excited “You didn’t tell me that Arita could use a knife!”
Sludge: hands back the knife Izuku kinda stole from Toga during their spar “Uh, yeah…pretty sure he was in a gang when he was younger…”
Izuku and Ekikyō: are riding the train home
Izuku: glances out the window and sees a plume of dust rising from the trees near the base of the mountain “Um, what’s that?”
Ekikyō: “Dunno. Maybe someone with a wind quirk sneezed?”
Izuku and Ekikyō: watch as a large tree falls over ahead of the dust cloud
Izuku: laughs nervously “At least that isn’t headed for the train?”
Uraraka: watches Hitoshi sulk around the 1-A dorm “I don’t like this.”
Todoroki: sidles up next to her “Yes, it is distressing, though I’m uncertain at this time how to repel the invasion or free those taken.”
Uraraka: “What?”
Todoroki: looks at her like she’s the one missing the obvious “The body-snatching aliens? They replaced Shinso and sabotaged his relationship to alienate the one person who knows the original Shinso best and distract the rest of us from his other changes in behavior.”
Kayama: texting Izuku while sitting in the teacher’s lounge “Just in case Shota didn’t tell you, his birthday is coming up on the eighth.”
Izuku: panics because that’s only a week and a half away “SJKJFGHHJASDGH Thank you for the head’s up!”
Kayama: laughs
Aizawa: looks up from his grading, suspicious “What’s so funny?”
Kayama: puts on a sweet and vaguely innocent smile “Oh, nothing.”