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Chapter Text

It was the second day of class 1-A’s new life in the dorms, and so far things were running smoothly. 

Too smoothly, if you were to ask Aizawa. He had been teaching this class for over half a year now and he knew better than to get his hopes up. 

He was proven right as his number one problem child, Bakugou Katsuki, marched past him towards the exit with his best friend, Kirishima, happily following behind him. 

Aizawa sighed heavily, grieving his peaceful afternoon, as he approached the two. “Stop,” he demanded. The two stiffened in place. “Where do you think you’re going?”

Bakugou, as per usual, sneered at him and crossed his arms, revealing the large green bag that he was carrying. It had dirt stains coating the bottom and was worn with use. “None of your business.” 

Kirishima chuckled and lopped an arm over his friend’s shoulders as he smiled at their teacher. “Hey there Mr. Aizawa! We didn’t see ya there.”  Bakugou rolled his eyes and slapped Kirishima’s arm off of him. 

Aizawa raised an eyebrow. “I don’t remember you two getting permission to leave the dorms.” Internally, Aizawa thought that even if they had asked, it probably wouldn’t have been granted. It had only been two weeks since Bakugou had been rescued from the League of Villains and Aizawa definitely did not want him out of his supervision yet. 

Bakugou tensed as a small glimmer of panic flickered in his crimson eyes. The boy quickly covered the emotion with a sneer. “I highly doubt you’re going to give me permission to leave everyday. So, what’re you going to do to try and stop me?” 

Aizawa was shocked to see him take up a defensive stance, as though he was ready to physically fight him on the matter. 

Kirishima’s eyes widened and he quickly threw himself between the two of them. He chuckled awkwardly. “Sorry about that, teach. It’s just really important to Bakubro that he gets to visit Midoribro! He never misses a visit!”

“Oi! Shut up, Shitty Hair!” 

Aizawa watched curiously as his students bickered. Bakugou was a very passionate student. He got fired up very easily, but Aizawa had never seen his student look so desperate. 

The teacher sighed once more. “Alright,” the two students froze. “I’ll take you to see this ‘Midoribro’, and depending on how today’s visit goes, I’ll evaluate how frequently they can happen.” 

Kirishima smiled brightly, while Bakugou stared at him with suspicious eyes. After a minute of his student’s harsh judgement, Bakugou tsked and continued walking towards the exit. “Whatever. The nerd would want to meet you anyway.” 

Aizawa raised an eyebrow at the statement but said nothing as he led the way to his car. 

You can imagine Aizawa’s shock when Bakugou’s directions to his “friend’s” house brought them to a graveyard. 

Without saying a word, Bakugou got out of the car and headed in. Aizawa glanced over at Kirishima, who gave him a small smile as he followed after him. Swallowing down the dread building in his gut, Aizawa walked behind them. 

The trio walked peacefully through the graveyard for several minutes until suddenly Bakugou stopped in place and let out a loud growl. “Oh, those stupid mother fuckers,” he cursed before rushing towards a gravestone. 

Aizawa’s eyes widened at the sight of it. The top right corner had been broken off and the remains of torn up flowers laid scattered on the ground. Most obvious was the ugly red spray paint that covered the entire front of the stone and read “DEKU”. 

Aizawa felt his stomach clench. 

Bakugou, despite his cursing, didn’t seem surprised. He merely continued to swear like a sailor under his breath as he kneeled down in front of the grave and set down his green bag. He pulled out a scrub brush and a spray bottle and got to work, as though it was a routine for him. 

“Just you wait, Izuku,” Aizawa heard him mutter. “Once I’m a pro, you won’t have to worry about those shitty extras. I’ll buy you one of those big, prissy ass statues and have bodyguards watch it day and night. Nobody will ever touch you again.” 

Aizawa stood silently, unsure of how to wrap his head around the situation at hand. Kirishima merely looked on at the familiar scene solemnly. “If you think this is bad, it’s nothing compared to the first time he visited after his rescue,” Aizawa blinked down at his student. “While Bakugou was gone, those bastards broke Midoribro’s grave,” he gestured to the damage on the corner. “It was covered in so many slurs that you could barely make out the stone. The thing that got to Bakubro the most though was the All Might plushy they had ripped up.”

“I can hear you Shitty Hair,” Bakugou snapped, but not with nearly as much aggression as he usually would. The blond huffed as he finished wiping off the spray paint. He took a moment to bow with his hands folded in prayer position before sitting back up. “It wasn’t just any fucking doll. It was ‘Zuku’s favourite. Our moms both got us matching ones at the mall when we were three or something,” Bakugou’s hands tightened around the tools he was holding as he clenched his jaw. “I thought he had gotten rid of it. He should’ve. I only found out he kept it when I was helping Auntie Inko go through the nerd’s shit.” 

With the spray paint gone, Aizawa was finally able to properly read the stone’s engraving.

Midoriya Izuku

2xxx-2xxx

A hero in our hearts

His breath caught in his throat as he did the math. Fourteen. The kid was fourteen when he died. He would’ve been the same age as his class. 

Bakugou silently gathered the pieces of the shredded flowers and placed them into the bag. He then went on to replace it with a fresh bouquet of purple hyacinths and set it down before placing a small dish with incense beside it. He carefully lit the sticks before turning to Kirishima. “You’re up.” 

Kirishima smiled brightly, kneeled down beside Bakugou, and bowed with his palms pressed together before pulling out a wrapped lunch box from the bag. “Hey Mido! I hope you’re doing alright. Bakubro and I have been busy with moving into dorms yesterday. We’re neighbors!” Bakugou elbowed his friend and raised an eyebrow as though telling him to get on with it. Kirishima chuckled and laid down the box. He delicately unwrapped it, revealing a dish full of Katsudon. “We brought you some Katsudon! I know it’s your favourite, and I finally convinced Bakubro to teach me how to make it last night. It’s probably not as good as his, but I hope you’ll still like it.” 

Bakugou nodded in approval before glancing back at Aizawa and gruffly gesturing for him to approach. Sensing the trust in the act, Aizawa took a deep breath before moving closer. 

The blond stared at him for a moment, his expression was a strange mixture of uncertainty, guilt and grief. He then turned to the gravestone and pointed at Aizawa. “Izuku, this is Aizawa Shouta, my homeroom teacher and the pro hero E-Eraserhead.” Aizawa looked over at his student in concern at the stumble in his words. Bakugou was clearly struggling to keep himself together as he continued. “You, um, you probably would’ve been in his class stirring up all kinds of hell with those notebooks of yours and your nerd-brain.” 

Aizawa respectfully bowed his head with his palms pressed together before sitting back up. “It’s an honor to meet you, Midoriya.” 

The three sat kneeling silently in front of the grave before Aizawa tilted his head and finally asked, “Who is he?” 

Bakugou closed his eyes as he curled his fists. “He was my childhood friend,” he looked down at his hands and fiddled with his fingers. “Our moms are best friends, so we literally knew each other since birth. When we were kids we promised that we would be heroes together,” the last words came out choked. Kirishima frowned and placed a hand on his friend’s shoulder. To Aizawa’s surprise, Bakugou didn’t push it away. Instead, he gripped onto the hand tightly. “When he was four, Auntie took him to the doctor and they found he was quirkless.” It took all of Aizawa’s years of training as an underground hero to keep himself from reacting to those words. He prayed that this story wasn’t going where he thought it was. “I-I didn’t take it well. I was s-so fucking obsessed with how strong my own quirk was and being the best hero th-that when this quirkless little nerd continued to somehow be a better- be a better hero than me in the ways that counted, I got pissed.” By now, Bakugou’s bottom lip was trembling as tears lined his eyes. Aizawa had never seen his student so vulnerable. “I pushed him away. I bullied him relentlessly, used my quirk on him, damn near tortured him on the daily and the teachers did jack-shit to stop it. Hell, they even encouraged it.” Aizawa felt a spark of anger flare up in him. He made a mental note to look into Bakugou’s middle school after this, but he couldn’t focus on that right now. Not when Bakugou had just begun to sob. “Dammit! I’m the reason that he’s dead!” 

Kirishima instantly pulled his friend into him and ran a hand down his back. “No, you’re not,” he carefully reassured, noticeably ignoring Aizawa at the moment. “We’ve talked about this, Bakugou. What Midoriya did wasn’t your fault!” 

“I told him to take a swan dive off the fucking roof that same day! I might as well have pushed him!” 

Aizawa’s eyes widened as he realized what happened and how exactly young Midoriya died.

Kirishima took Bakugou’s face and forced him to look at him. “What did it say in Midoriya’s note? Did he say that he blamed you?” 

Bakugou’s eyebrows narrowed. “No. He said he fucking forgave me, like an idoit. And that he was sorry to Auntie and I, but he had to be realistic-” 

“Exactly,” Kirishima cut off. “If Midoriya said he forgave you, that is his choice, not yours. What you said was wrong, but you were a kid and you were manipulated by your quirkist teachers. It doesn’t make it right. But you’re aware of that and I know you’re trying to be better. To be someone that Midoriya would be proud to call a friend.” 

Aizawa could only watch as Bakugou broke down into his best friend’s shoulder. He looked away to allow them some well-deserved privacy as Bakugou calmed down. 

Eventually, he heard a sniffle and glanced back to see him wiping his face with his sleeve. He stared at the grave with saddened eyes. “Izuku loved you.”

 Aizawa was shocked. He was an underground hero, so he didn’t exactly have a big fan base. “He knew who I was?” 

Bakugou snorted, a small smile coming to grace his lips. “Yeah. The nerd fucking loved heroes. He used to go out to look for villain attacks to analyze heroes' moves and their quirks. He wrote it all down in these notebooks, ‘Hero Analysis for the Future’. I guess he thought that if he could break down quirks and fighting styles easily enough, it’d help even out the scales in a fight.” 

Aizawa felt a sad smile creep onto his lips. The kid was ambitious and hardworking. He thought outside of the box to get to where he wanted. He sounded exactly like the kind of kid he would’ve loved to have in his class. 

Bakugou sniffed again and wiped at his nose. “He um…” he looked at his teacher. “He really looked up to you,” the words went straight to Aizawa’s heart. “Other than All Might, I think you were his favourite. Y-You mostly fight quirkless, especially against mutants, and I guess he thought that if you could become a hero and save people then there had to be a chance that he could too.”

Aizawa soaked in the words. He had never really thought of it that way. He felt his heart ache at the idea that he had provided hope for this kid that had gone through so much. Aizawa nodded solemnly at Bakugou. “I wish I could’ve met him.” 

Bakugou let out a wet laugh, “The nerd would’ve fucking exploded on the spot. Probably would’ve started rambling with a shit ton of questions about your quirk and his crazy-ass theories.” 

Aizawa smirked, “I would’ve loved to answer them.” The more he heard about this bright, dream-seeking kid, the more he wanted to learn about him. Aizawa paused as he recalled something; perhaps there was still a way that he could. He looked softly over at Bakugou, “This may be asking too much, and forgive me if I overstep my boundaries, but I would love to learn more about Midoriya. He sounds like a great kid. Do you think I could take a look at those notebooks you mentioned?” 

Both Bakugou and Kirishima tensed at the question. Bakugou glanced between the gravestone, Kirishima and Aizawa several times, as though one of them held the answer to his teacher’s question. He squinted his eyes at his teacher before groaning. “Fuck it. Sure. I have them in my room; Auntie thought I could use them. Izuku would’ve fucking loved if he could’ve shared his notebooks with you,” he sighed before looking at Aizawa cautiously. “Just...Be careful with them. Please?” 

Aizawa smiled and nodded. “Of course. You have my word.” 

That was how Shota ended up on the floor of the living room of his and Hizashi’s shared apartment in the teachers’ dorms surrounded by a collection of over-filled notebooks. 

There were thirteen volumes in total. The earliest one had entries done in crayon, and was written in the scribble of a four-year old boy excited to take his first step towards heroics. It seemed to work half as a diary, as it rambled about the child’s day and his worries about “Kacchan” getting distant and being rough with him lately and questions on when his father would be coming back from his business trip. Between the entries, were basic assessments of every day-light hero's quirk and status, as well as a slightly more detailed look into All-Might and break down of his career as a hero. 

With each volume, the analysis became more and more detailed. By the time Shota got to the final book, his heart was heavy with grief for the problem child he never got to teach. The kid had so much potential to be an incredible hero. Perhaps the most he had ever seen. It was clear that his heart was pure with the need to save others and that after looking at some of the notes he had written on people’s quirks, he could definitely label Izuku as a genius. He could only imagine what Nezu would’ve done if he had ever gotten his paws on him. 

Shota barely reacted as Hizashi entered the apartment. 

“Hey Sho, I’m…” Hizashi trailed off at the sight of his husband surrounded by open notebooks. “What’s going on, babe? New case?” 

Shota sighed, trying to alleviate some of the weight that was pressing on his chest. “No. I took Bakugou out to see a friend of his today,” Hizashi silently sat beside him and carefully moved some of the notebooks. He could tell that Shota clearly needed to talk about whatever was going on. Shota met his eyes and Hizashi instantly felt concerned at the sadness swimming behind his partner’s gaze. “He took me to a graveyard, ‘Zashi. The kid’s friend was Midoriya Izuku. Fourteen. Quirkless. He committed suicide.” 

Hizashi’s breath hitched as he gripped onto one of Sho’s hands. He glanced over at the books around them, “Are these…?” 

Shota nodded. “These were his. Quirk Analysis notebooks. He’s been writing them since he was four and ended up making thirteen different volumes; all completely full. He was a genius, Zashi.” 

 Hizashi felt a knot tie in his stomach as his husband choked on his words. Shota ran a hand through his hair as he looked back at the notebook, vol. 08, in his hands. “He was so fucking smart. Just listen to this.”

“ Eraserhead. Status: Underground. Quirk: Erasure. Type: Emitter. I was lucky enough to catch one of Eraserhead’s fights tonight on my way home from the grocery store and immediately began researching him. There aren't many videos of him online, but along with what I watched, I think I was able to put a few things together. His quirk works through eye contact and causes his hair to float as well as his eyes to glow slightly. Honestly, it’s kind of a give away for an underground hero, considering he is presumably trying to keep the activation requirements of his quirk a secret from villains. He should probably consider fighting with his hair up or wearing reflective goggles. It’d make it even harder to decipher the concepts of his quirk. Not to mention the full coverage goggles would prevent any debris from flying into his eyes and impairing them or worsening his dry eye, ” 

Hizashi’s eyes widened. The kid got that from the few videos out there and seeing Sho fight once? Most people didn’t even know who Eraserhead was, to be able to put together that much information …

“ The best part about Eraserhead is how he fights. Since his quirk is non-combative and doesn’t work on mutants, Eraserhead has trained his body to be a weapon on its own. Mixed with careful precision and some fierce martial arts skills, Eraserhead fights quirkless with the use of a few support items! I’ve never seen anything like it. I wonder how his capture weapon works. It’s pliable enough that it can bend and fold and light enough to be easily thrown, yet when he pulls on it hard it seems to harden and act as a strong restraint. Maybe there’s a metal alloy of some kind woven in the fabric. When- ”

 Shota paused and swallowed around the lump building in his throat.

 “ When I become a hero, I’ll definitely need a couple of support weapons. I don’t know if I could use something so complicated like Eraserhead’s capture weapon, but maybe some blunt-force weapons as well as something for range attacks? Maybe one day I’ll be able to meet Eraserhead and ask him some questions about his training. If I’m going to be the world’s first quirkless hero, I need to learn to fight and Eraserhead would be the best person for me to learn from. ” 

Shota squeezed his eyes shut as he finished the entry and took a few deep breaths. “He...He had so much potential,” he breathed through trembling lips. “All he wanted was to help people, and everyone acted like he had committed a crime just for hoping. He, fuck, he deserved so much better.” 

Hizashi wasted no time in pulling Shota into his arms as he felt his own eyes well with tears in pain for the boy he would never know. He didn’t say anything. There was nothing he could say. A boy was dead and the world was a lesser place because of it. 

They sat there in their living room crying in each others’ arms surrounded by the life-work of a child for hours. Eventually, as they finally pulled apart, something caught Hizashi’s eye. He frowned as he pulled up a burnt, torn, and waterlogged notebook. He nearly choked when he saw the number thirteen on it and realized it was the kid’s last journal. “What happened to it?” He asked, horrified. 

Shota watched sadly as his husband began to thumb through the pages. “Bakugou admitted that he used to bully the poor kid. A lot of people apparently did. The notebook must have gotten caught in the crossfire.” 

Shota raised an eyebrow as Hizashi paused about halfway through the book. He flipped the page and frowned before frantically searching through the rest of the book and turning back to that page. He looked up at Shota with eyes wide with confusion as he handed him the notebook. “Why is his last entry All Might’s signature?” 

Shota froze as he stared at the oversized signature. “I don’t know,” he mumbled, running his thumb over a tear stain that dotted the page. “I’ll ask Bakugou tomorrow.” 

***

Aizawa stared at Bakugou as he gawked down at the notebook in his hand, “What the fuck?” 

He sighed and leaned back into his chair. “So, it’s safe to say you didn’t know about this?” 

Bakugou didn’t look up at him, he merely continued to glare at the gaudy signature. “I avoided this one as much as possible and he never told me about this, which is fucking weird. Izuku idolized All Might, if he met him, there is no fucking way he’d be able to keep that shit to himself. And it’s his last entry which means-” Bakugou cut himself off as he suddenly stiffened, his eyes widening. “All Might was the last person to see him alive.” 

Before Aizawa could say anything, Bakugou had burst out of the classroom. The teacher cursed under his breath and quickly followed behind him. “Bakugou, wait. What are you doing?” 

“Getting fucking answers!” He spat as he threw the door to the teachers’ lounge open. 

Hizashi, Cementoss and Nemuri jumped from where they had been relaxing, as Bakugou’s fiery gaze swept across the room searching for his target. 

Hizashi glanced over at Aizawa with a confused expression before smiling softly at Bakugou. “Hey Little Listener. What’s going-”

“ You !” Bakugou snarled, his teeth bared, as All Might stepped out from the staff kitchen. 

The explosive teen marched up to him and slammed the open notebook on the desk. “What did you say to him?!” 

Aizawa’s eyes widened as he realized what Bakugou was insinuating. He placed his hand on his capture weapon, ready to restrain his student, but waited for the ex-number one hero’s answer. 

All Might looked at Bakugou in shock and glanced down at the notebook. “I’m afraid I don’t know what or who you are talking about, Young Bakugou.” 

This only seemed to anger Bakugou further. “Izuku! Midoriya Fucking Izuku! You signed his shitty-ass notebook, which means you saw him, now what did you tell him?!” 

All Might blinked a couple of times before taking a closer look at the notebook, Aizawa frowned as a flicker of recognition was shown behind the ex-number one hero’s eyes. “Ah, the quirkless boy.” 

Bakugou growled as he ripped the notebook out of the hero’s hands. “His name is Midoriya you bastard,” he held out the notebook behind him for Aizawa to take. The teacher noted the small tremor in Bakugou’s hands as he did so and carefully took the book from him. “What did you say to him?” 

All Might frowned and glanced at the other teachers who, with the exception of Aizawa and Hizashi, looked just as confused as he did. He chuckled awkwardly and tried to ruffle Bakugou’s hair. “That was over a year ago, Young Bakugou. What’s all of this about?” 

The child snarled and let out a small explosion at the reaching hand, causing All Might to yelp and look at Aizawa for aid. The teacher merely shrugged and crossed his arms. “It’s important. Just answer his question, Yagi.” 

The former number one sighed and ran a hand over his face. “He had been caught up with the sludge villain.” 

Bakugou growled at the mention of the villain. “That fucker attacked Izuku before he got to me?” He narrowed his eyes at All Might. He couldn’t help but tense as he remembered the feeling of sludge being forced down his throat. He remembered the all-encompassing fear that filled him as he watched the heroes stand by and do nothing. He remembered Izuku. “If you stopped him, then how the fuck did he get loose again?”

“If you’d let me explain,” All Might said and shook his head. “I had barely managed to stop the villain in time. Poor kid was unconscious. I was able to get him to wake up and signed his notebook. I was running out of time to hold my form, so I attempted to leave,” All Might chuckled at the memory as Aizawa, Bakugou and Hizashi glared. “The kid was a huge fanboy though and clung onto my leg when I took off. I brought us to a roof and tried to leave once more, but the kid stopped me. He was determined to ask me a question.” 

Aizawa knew All Might was dense, but his disdain for the hero only grew with every word he spoke. “You tried to leave a clearly injured child alone, without medical attention, twice ?” He snapped. 

All Might opened his mouth to defend himself, but Bakugou cut him off before he got the chance. “What did he ask?” 

The room fell silent at the question. Bakugou’s voice was quiet, as though he was almost scared to hear the answer, but simultaneously carried the promise of violence should he say the wrong thing. When All Might didn’t react, the teenager growled and let out another round of explosions. “Tell me!!!” 

All Might took a step back from the angry teenager. “Okay! He asked me if I thought somebody who was quirkless could ever become a hero.” 

Aizawa’s breath hitched at the question as his hands fisted into his capture weapon. “What did you tell him, Yagi?” 

The number one hero had the gull to look confused. “I told him no. He seemed smart, but without a quirk he’d only manage to get in the way. I told him that it was nice to have dreams, but that he needed to be more realistic and if he wanted to help people he could try being a policeman or something. Then, since I had to turn in the sludge villain, I left.” 

No. He said he fucking forgave me, like an idoit. And that he was sorry to Auntie and I, but he had to be realistic

Realistic

Aizawa’s eyes widened in realization. “Bakugou, wait!” 

But he was too late. Bakugou let out an animalistic scream as he launched himself at the number one hero. “You bastard!!! You killed him! You fucking killed him!” He blasted the hero onto his back before pounding into him with his fists. Blood flew off All Might’s nose and painted Bakugou’s knuckles.

Aizawa quickly turned on his quirk and caught the feral, grieving boy in his scarf, pulling him away from a deeply confused All Might. Hizashi placed himself between the two of them as Aizawa gripped tightly onto his struggling student. “Bakugou, please.”

The boy continued screaming, throwing threats and curses into the air as he grieved his friend. “He killed him! He killed my best friend!” 

Aizawa tried to sooth him as the screams slowly dissipated into sobs. He made eye contact with Nemuri who gestured to her arm, clearly offering her quirk, but he silently denied the offer. Bakugou was upset, but he needed to process this. He just found out that his best friend turned rival killed himself as a result of meeting their idol. It was a lot for anyone to take in. 

“I don’t understand. What’s going on?” All Might asked stupidly. 

Aizawa clung onto Bakugou as he snarled at the hero. “That kid whose dreams you crushed was named Midoriya Izuku. He was an extremely talented quirk analyst, an overly kind kid, and incredibly hard-working. He wanted nothing more than to be a hero despite being told by everyone in his life that it would never be possible because he was quirkless. He idolized you ever since he was four years old,” the underground hero’s eyes narrowed as he instinctively activated his quirk. “Over a year and a half ago, he killed himself.” All Might paled as his eyes widened in realization. He could hear the horrified gasps of the teachers around them. “You telling him to ‘be realistic’ were the last words he ever heard.”

All Might gaped like a fish as his eyes fixed onto the notebook sitting on the desk near by. “I-I didn’t … I didn’t know that he would …”

Bakugou winced in arms and shivered as angry sobs forced their way past his lips, his hands unconsciously sparking as he gripped tightly onto his teacher’s shirt. Aizawa carefully guided the kid to his feet and looked over at Hizashi, “I’m going to bring him to his dorm,” he looked cooly over at All Might, “Don’t think this is the end of this, Yagi. Midoriya deserves justice.” 

As he lead his student out into the hallways of UA, Aizawa felt his heart shatter at mumblings coming from Bakugou. “I-It really wasn’t my fault. I mean, I didn’t help and I’m not innocent but he- he didn’t do it because of- it wasn’t me.”

Chapter Text

Hey guys!

SO! WOW! UM! OKAY!

This fic took off so much more than I thought it would. I remember just writing most of it while I was bored in class because the idea wasn't leaving my head and to see how well it's done has really and truly shocked me. 

I never thought I'd see the day someone would review my fics on TikTok BUT HERE WE ARE!!!

With that said, I want to start off by thanking you guys for the crazy amount of love and support you've given this fic. It means the absolute world to me and I love you all so much for each and every kudos, comment and bookmark.

I saw a few of the comments mentioning that TikTok brought you guys to this fic, and then I sought out some of those reviews and it made me realize — I was never happy with the ending of this fic. I remember just being so exhausted after finishing it that I didn't care, and that it probably wouldn't even reach that many people anyway, so it wouldn't matter, BUT OH BOY!

So because of that, I've decided that I want to write at least a part two for this. Bakugou deserves closure. Aizawa deserves to get to know more about Izuku and this case. Izuku deserves justice. 

I'll be exploring all of that!

Thank you guys again for your endless support, and I'll see you soon with Ch. 2!

Chapter Text

The walk back to dorms was a blur. 

He remembered screaming at All Might. He remembered punching the bastard in his old, skinny face. He remembered, as fucking embarrassing as it was, crying, but after that it all got foggy. 

When he came back through, Bakugou was sitting on his bed and his homeroom teacher was putting ice over his knuckles. The teen snarled as he yanked his hand back towards himself and wiped it across his face — it came back sticky and wet with tears and snot. Gross. 

He was grateful that Aizawa hadn't said anything. He didn't know what he would say if the teacher did. Yell, probably. Maybe, scream. Anger management courses had been ton of help towards him and his volatile attitude, but it had been a shitty 24 hours. He didn't exactly trust himself to not explode at the older man, even if the underground hero had been nothing but helpful and understanding throughout all of this. 

Bakugou huffed as he leaned back against his wall and stared up at the ceiling. "So what happens now?"

"Action. Justice, with any luck. I'm sure Nezu was watching everything that happened from his office. I'll probably be called for a meeting with him and All Might shortly." 

Justice. Wasn't that a thought? 

He let his head fall heavily to the side as he gazed down at Aizawa, an all-too familiar, uneasy fire began burning in his stomach. "I'm not going to apologize for punching him. I don't care if it gets me expelled. He deserves a hell of a lot more than that."

Aizawa nodded, "I'll personally ensure that you receive no punishment for what happened today." There was a strange, determined gleam shining within those tired, onyx eyes that helped quell the restlessness within the explosive teen. 

A small buzz rang through the room, and Aizawa groaned as he rose back to his feet with popping joints. "That will be Nezu. I'm going to handle this. You should get some rest, maybe a cup of tea, and talk with your friends."

Bakugou couldn't help but roll his eyes as he felt his face warm. "Those idiots will just give me a headache."

The corners of Aizawa's mouth tilted up as he fondly shook his head. "Maybe. But they care about you and they're there for you. Consider it, at least. If you need anything, even if it's just to talk, you know where my office is."

Bakugou only grunted in agreement and flopped back onto his bed as his teacher left. His head turned to look out towards his desk, catching sight a black-framed photo of a certain broccoli-headed nerd. 

"I told him no ... that he needed to be more realistic."

He squeezed his eyes shut and ran his hands over his face. "Why the fuck did you listen to him?" he mumbled breathily, purposefully ignoring the catch in his voice. "You spent 14 fucking years ignoring everything everyone has ever told you. Why suddenly start listening now? Why?"

The question was dumb and selfish. Bakugou knew why. Hell, anyone who knew Izuku would know why. It wasn't a matter of what was said, but rather who. 

The straw on the camel's back, so to speak. The final drop of water that caused the glass to overflow. The last second in the microwave before the egg explodes. 

Maybe if he hadn't been in such a pissy mood that day. Maybe if he hadn't snapped and said those kami-forsaken words. Maybe if had realized how much he would lose along with his only friend when he-

He let out a deep breath before his thoughts became too much, and a little shitty voice that sounded annoyingly like his therapist scolded him for regressing back to those stupid fucking thoughts. They had been horrible for the first year after Izuku died. Even after months of therapy, he couldn't help but blame himself for his friend's death. But he was over it. He worked through all the guilt that had been coursing through him and put that energy toward getting better for Izuku's sake. 

And now what? All that work, all the months of affirmations, talking through his feelings, and actually fucking listening to people and his conscious was all for nothing because fucking All Might had to go and let them both down?!

Bakugou loudly groaned as he threw his head back against his pillow and glared at the ceiling. He blindly reached under his bed and grabbed the well-worn, small All Might plush that remained hidden under there and laid it beside him. "You're a fucking idiot," He muttered.

"I'm sorry, Kacchan," the nerd would say, laying beside him like he had at the thousands of sleepovers they had when they were still brats. 

The teen huffed, swallowing thickly around the lump in his throat. "I wasn't talking about you. I'm done with that shit. You're the genius out of us. You were able to see through my bull shit before I ever could."

"Stop it, Kacchan. I wasn't better than you. We're a duo. Remember?"

A wet chuckle pushed past his lips as he felt his eyes burn. Flashes of emerald and sandy-haired brats running and jumping around the woods behind his parent's house flickered behind his eyes — Orange and Green pillowcases tied around their necks long before explosions came from caramel-scented hands or red-wide-toed shoes were tied onto tiny feet. The Adventures of The Great King Super Might and Mighty Man — the best superhero duo that Japan had ever seen, saving frogs from highways, cats from trees, and destroying the evil rotten trees from invading their forest. They ran side by side, not one ahead of the other. They were one and the same. 

The memories wrapped themselves tightly around Bakugou's throat as he bit down harshly on the inside of his cheek and breathed through his nose. "Yeah," he choked. "I remember. Like I could ever forget something like that," he sat in silence with himself for a moment. Something warm and wet dripped down the sides of his face and onto his pillow beneath him. "Fuck, I wish I could go back Izuku. I-I would change so much. I never should've left you behind like that. I should've been better than those other fucking extras and protected you. Then maybe you wouldn't have been alone when that shitty villain attacked and you wouldn't have been alone with him and you wouldn't have-"

KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK!

Bakugou jumped, nearly choking on his own repressed sobs, as his heart pounded in his chest. He growled, wiping at his eyes as the knock rang out again. He stomped over to the door, wiping at his face once more for good measure, before ripping the door open. "What?!"

His four idiots stood there, all with soft smiles on their faces like the fucking morons that they were. Kirishima waved, taking the charge, as always. "Hey dude! We just wanted to ask if you wanted to come play some Mario ... Kart ..." He trailed off, his crimson eyes narrowing as he observed his friend. "Um ... You alright, Katsuki?"

He felt himself instinctively snarl at the question, no matter how much his inner therapist yelled at him for the action. "What are you implying, Shitty Hair?"

"Calm down, Man," Sero interjected. "We're not saying anything, just ... Well I haven't seen you like this since July when you locked yourself up for like a week. As your friends, I think we're allowed to be concerned." 

Bakugou winced; Izuku's birthdays were never easy and they didn't get any easier. He didn't say anything as his grip tightened on his door frame until his knuckles turned white and he clenched his jaw until his teeth threatened to creak under the pressure. 

"Right," Mina clapped her hands as she looked over at the others. "Emergency Bakusquad meeting. Kami, go grab the snacks from Ei's room. Hanta, go grab your extra blankets and pillows. Ei and I will stay with Kats." 

Bakugou's heart ached as Mina looked back and beamed at him — her wide, compassionate eyes and curly hair looking painfully familiar. "Don't worry, Katsuki. Whatever it is that's on your mind, we've got your back." 

His glare softened without his consent. His hand dropped from the doorframe as he let out a heavy sigh and retreated back into his dorm room without closing the door.

"Shit," he heard Denki softly curse behind him. "This is bad. I'm going to grab the flaming hot Cheetos. "

"And stat," Sero uselessly added, before the two of them took off for their respective tasks. 

Mina and Kirishima silently entered his room, Mina claiming the beanie bag chair Denki had brought and left there ages ago while Kirishima leaned against his wardrobe. "What's up, Bakubro? Talk to us."

Bakugou, decidedly, didn't talk. He just picked the All Might stuffy from his bed and threw it Kiri. The red-head caught it with one hand. His eyebrows narrowed as he looked at it, before understanding washed over his expression. "This is about Mido? I mean, bringing Aizawa to see him yesterday, couldn't have been easy."

Mina's eyes bulged as she suddenly sat up. "Wait. You brought Aizawa to meet Midoriya?!"

Bakugou huffed and dropped back onto his bed. "Yeah. And I'm not going to explain this whole shit show twice, so wait until the other two idiots get back."

Kiri's face only grew more confused at his best friend's words. "But I thought it went pretty well, I mean all things considered-"

"It's not about the fucking visit!" He snapped. "It's about all the bullshit that came afterward. And I just- Fuck, I'm not doing this until the others get back, so just hold your fucking horses."

 Kiri nodded, looking down at the old toy in his hands. Despite it showing signs of age, it was clear the toy had been maintained and carefully taken care of. 

Another five minutes later, Sero and Denki came barreling into the room. Denki nearly suffocated Bakugou as he tackled him with the fuzziest blanket he owned, and then insisted on remaining glued by his side as he wrapped himself in a blanket and held out a bowl of the promised flaming hot Cheetos to him. Sero took a second to make himself a swing using his tape and handed out the rest of the blankets and snacks before they all turned to their pseudo-leader and patiently waited. 

It was stupid. And childish. And Bakugou felt all gross and warm inside. 

He awkwardly shifted under the blanket and grabbed a handful of the chips. "I ..." he began before stopping himself. Denki moved in closer and allowed their shoulders to touch. Bakugou sighed heavily, and let himself lean into the contact. "Aizawa came with Kiri and I to see Izuku yesterday."

"WHAT?!" He reeled back as Denki screeched into his ear. The blond held up his hands in defence. "Sorry, but seriously? It took you MONTHS before you let the rest of us go with you!" 

Bakugou munched on one of the chips as he shrugged. "Didn't have much a choice, Dunce Face. You really think he's just going to let me waltz out of here after everything that happened? ... Not that he could've stopped me."

Mina smirked as she leaned back in the beanie bag chair. "So what you mean to say is your and Kiri's 'totally foolproof manly plan' to sneak out of dorms totally failed?"

"Shut it, Racoon Eyes!" he growled without any real heat. "That's not the point! The point is Aizawa came to the cemetery with Shitty Hair and I!"

Kiri nodded, "He was pretty good about all of it, all things considered. He paid his respects, and Bakubro told him a little bit about Midoriya. He asked if he could see Mido's notebooks, Katsuki agreed."

Sero frowned around an Oreo. "I mean, I know Midoriya's notebooks are a pretty touchy subject for you, but otherwise that all seems alright. What happened?"

Bakugou huffed as he glared at the group. "If you would let me finish the fucking story, I was getting to that," he rolled his eyes as the others all went quiet. "Right. So I let Aizawa have the books. It was ... weird. I haven't really let anyone else touch them, let alone take them away before, it ... fuck," he cursed as he felt his heart begin to pick up again and instinctively looked at the empty shelf on his bookshelf. 

"Take your time, Bakugou," Mina lightly reassured. "We're not going anywhere."

And it was true. For some reason, these stupid, too-good morons had decided that he was worthy of every second of their time and love, and he would never understand. But maybe it wasn't something he was meant to understand. All he knew was that when he looked at these four loveable assholes, he saw pieces of what he lost in them. Ejiro had Izuku's heart, and his selfless determination to help all of those in his reach. Kaminari had the same smile that would light up a damn room and put everyone at ease with just his laugh. Ashido was good with her words and handling people like he had seen Izuku do with a few new kids before they turned their backs on him too. Hanta was a quick thinker, and while he was nowhere near as smart Izuku or Bakugou himself, his quirk demanded that he be creative in how to apply it. 

They weren't Izuku. But with them around, he didn't feel as alone. 

Bakugou sighed and told them everything. He told them how he met with Aizawa that morning, and what the teacher had shown him. He told them how he confronted the number one hero on what was the final minutes of his best friend's life. Finally, he told them how, just like everyone else in his life, All Might told Izuku that he couldn't be a hero. 

"I just- For so long I thought it was my words that pushed him over the edge, no matter what his stupid letter said. A-And now ... It wasn't me. It was All Might. All Might who I have always fucking idolized and wanted nothing more than to beat him and I don't know what I'm supposed to say or feel. Do I feel relieved? Angry? Sad? I mean, it's not like All Might said anything that I hadn't already told him. He's a fucking saint in comparison to what I said and did just that day. But ..." he trailed off, the lingering ache in his heart only growing more and more painful with every word he spoke. 

"He was supposed to be better than you," Bakugou winced at Sero's blunt but honest words and nodded. 

Denki let out a long breath as he leaned back. "Woah. That's so fucked up," he yelped as Bakugou thwacked him on the back of the head. "WHAT?! It is! I mean, not just the All Might thing either. But like, for everyone involved. Cause like, yeah, it's fucked for Midoriya because he ... You know ... and he died with literally nobody believing in his dreams."

"Denki," Mina hissed as Bakugou curled his hands into fists.

"But like, it's also fucked for Bakugou, because like, that was his friend, right? And All Might is, well he's All Might! And to learn all of this after over a year of grieving is just whack."

"Denki," Sero gritted through his teeth as Bakugou's hands started smoking.

"And then there's All Might, which shit! I mean, he probably thought he was saving Mido! Being a hero is really dangerous and stuff, so yeah, I mean he wasn't wrong in telling him that being a hero wasn't really-"

"DENKI!" Kiri snapped causing the electric blond's jaw to snap shut. He glanced around at the three harsh glares he was getting and Bakugou's seething form. "Not. Helping," Kiri spoke with clipped words. Denki awkwardly laughed as he shoved a handful of Cheetos into his mouth. 

Bakugou took a deep, trembling, breath as he wiped his palms onto his sweats. "You're wrong."

All heads whipped over to him. Denki hurried to swallow his mouthful of food, as he tilted his head. "What do you mean, man? The situation is super messed up."

Bakugou groaned and once again questioned his choice in friends. "Yeah, no shit! That's not what I'm talking about! I'm talking about Izuku becoming a hero. He could've done it." The group exchanged a nervous, doubtful, glance and Bakugou felt years of rage bubble up within himself. "Listen up, asshats! Ever since Izuku died, I've been doing all kinds of research on quirklessness, so fucking believe me when I say that Izuku could've easily done this shit just as well as any of you. A quirk is just a fucking tool. Look at Tails and the Invisi-chick. Do you think their quirks actually help them with fighting or any of that shit? Could their quirks alone save them if they'd been cornered with no way of escape? Fuck no. But they're still here and kicking ass because they learned how to fight and use the skills and tools available to them! Look at that purple-haired fuck, or even Aizawa! Hell! That chick from the support class made to the freaking third round in the Sports Fest and only lost of her own volition, and all she had is some hyped-up eyes and her support tools. Izuku would've been a better hero than any of you idiots. And if you think otherwise, then get the fuck out of my room."

Denki looked at the blond with wide eyes. "Woah. I never thought of it like that. I'm sorry, dude."

Bakugou clicked his tongue in annoyance. "Of course, you didn't. Nobody does. That's the fucking problem," he couldn't help but look over at the toy that still sat in Kirishima's hands. "Nobody thinks of anything outside of quirks, and because of that nobody thinks of the quirkless. Not even heroes like All Might," he pursed his lips as he remembered the look of complete confusion on the elder hero's expression. "He said in interviews that anyone could be a hero if their heart was in the right place, and Izuku had the biggest fucking heart out there, so why-" he stopped himself before his voice could give way to the sobs he could feel clawing back up his throat. 

"Tell us about him," Bakugou frowned as he looked back over to Kirishima. The shark-toothed dumbass only smiled back at him. "You say that Izuku could've been a hero. You're certain of that. You say he had the biggest heart there is. Then make us know. Tell us all the things that made him the greatest hero of all time."

Bakugou couldn't help but huff at the last line, "I never said he was the greatest, Shitty Hair. He was still a crybaby who didn't know when to mind his own business but ..." He glanced at his friends. Sero settled back into his swing with a slight tilt to his head and a smile-less expression on his face that screamed, 'I'm listening. I'm here. Go on.' Mina had rearranged herself on the beanie bag chair to rest on her stomach, her elbows resting just in front of her as she laid her chin in her palms and gave Bakugou her full attention. Kaminari was now curled up in a blanket with one hand buried into the chip bag as he rubbed Bakugou's back, Finally, Kirishima sat down in front of the wardrobe, still cradling one of Bakugou's most valued possessions, and never once took his eyes off him. He felt his chest constrict in a strange, yet warm, way. He felt seen, supported, in a way that he hadn't in nearly two years. 

He ran a hand through his hair as he sighed. "Izuku was the greatest person of all time. For as far back as I can remember, the nerd was always at my side. No matter what. Even when I got my quirk and he didn't, even when I started to ... to bully him, even when he should've ran away and never looked back. Izuku was always there," he couldn't bring himself to meet the others' eyes as he spoke. "I didn't appreciate it back then. I don't think I even recognized how much he was helping me, but he's the only reason I have as much control of my quirk as I do. Nerd was a fucking genius. He could look at someone using their quirk for maybe 5 minutes, and he'd be able to give you a basic rundown of exactly how their quirk functioned. Make it 30 minutes, and he could tell you more about you than you knew yourself. Izuku had years of my quirk to study, so it goes without saying that he was the first person to really understand me."

Mina giggled from her corner. "I imagine tiny Blasty didn't take that too well?"

Bakugou couldn't help but wince, his last words to Izuku ringing through his ears. "No. No, I didn't," he shook his head. "But the damn nerd was persistent. He'd leave notes for everyone in their lockers and desks if noticed that someone was struggling with their quirk or if they were using it in a self-damaging way. He was always doing self-less shit like that. He'd help old folks cross the street and carry their groceries for them, even if it meant he'd be late for whatever he was running to. He was always running — almost like he was trying to catch up with everyone else. But it didn't matter to him how behind he was, or how much weaker he was than everyone else, if there was even the slightest chance that he could help, that he could make someone's day, that he could make someone's life easier, he would do it no matter the cost."

Sero frowned at that, "That doesn't sound very safe. Dude could get seriously hurt."

Bakugou couldn't help but laugh. "He did get seriously hurt. Time and time again. Auntie Inko called up the hag every time she caught him, and would be in near tears over every cut, bruise, and broken bone that he'd stumble back home with. But the little shit never learned, or maybe he just didn't care. He was determined to make the world a better place with a smile, just like All Might."

"So manly," Kirishima breathed, his eyes sparkling at the description. Bakugou couldn't help but roll his eyes at the redhead. Kiri had heard his stories of Izuku dozens of times, but he always got all worked up like this every time. 

Mina hummed and leaned into her hands. "It's incredible. Keep talking, Kats. I want to know more."

And he did. He told them of the Agency Bakugou. Of two little tots running through the woods with bug nets as their weapons. He told them about katsudon nights with Aunty Inko. He showed them the crumpled-up, crayon drawing to two hero costumes that he kept behind Izuku's photo. Finally, he told them about one life-changing day with a log bridge and a river. 

"I wasn't even hurt. I had a single scrape on my right palm, and I was fucking soaked, but I was fine. But Izuku," he swallowed thickly as his heart physically ached in his chest. "He did what Izuku always does. Before I even looked up, he was already half-way into the river and had his hand stretched out to me. None of the other extras even moved an inch, fuck, I think they might've been laughing. But Izuku looked down at me like I had just fallen off the Grand fucking Canyon," he couldn't help it. Tears finally began to leak from his eyes as he curled his hands into fists.

"It was easy. All I had to do was take his hand. I didn't even have to thank him. But ... I-I couldn't. I couldn't stand the idea of someone w-who was supposed to be so weak thinking I needed their help. I was supposed to be the one protecting Deku not the other way around, but no matter how fucking smart he was, he never seemed to understand that! I swatted at his hand. I pushed him. I yelled at him. I did everything I could to make him know that I was the strong one. I was the protector. Not him. But in the end it didn't fucking matter! None of it did! I pushed him further and further away until I no longer saw him as a friend or even a person and then Izuku had no one and no one was there when that slimy bastard got him. He wouldn't have been alone when All Might found him, and he never would've been brought to that fucking roof!" He shouted as his body trembled. Wet tears ran down his cheeks like rivers as he shook his head. "I should've been there! I should've been there to tell him that All Might was wrong. That I was fucking wrong. That I'm sorry for all the shit I did. But I wasn't and now I can't tell him anything and it fucking hurts!"

"Katsuki," his chest heaved as he snapped his eyes open (he hadn't even realized they were closed). Kirishima sat in front of him with his eyebrows narrowed. "What colour was All Might's Bronze Age costume?"

He blinked at his friend, his mind temporarily stalling — a freeze frame of child Izuku reaching down to him skipping over and over behind his eyes — "I-I, what are you talking about All Might for? Izuku-"

"Oh! All Might's Bronze Age! That was the all-red one, right? With the circles and shit?"

Bakugou's head snapped around to an anxious Denki, not noticing the way his breathing slowly became less laboured. "Huh? Fuck no. That was his Silver Age costume, Dunce Face. His bronze age was mainly black with red accents and a red cape."

"Woops," Denki chuckled as he scratched the back of his head. "My bad."

Bakugou shook his head, taking a moment to just breath as he clenched and unclenched his hands. "Whatever," he whispered, wincing as he noticed just how tight his chest had gotten. He looked back over to Kirishima "Thanks ... I guess. I didn't realize I got so worked up. It's stupid."

"Aw, it's not stupid man. Talking about your feelings is the manliest thing I know. Besides, it sounded like you needed to get that off your chest," Kiri smiled 

Sero nodded, "Yeah dude. We're always here for you. And ... I know you can't talk to Izuku anymore, and it's not the same, but if there's anything you need that we can help with, just say the word. Whether it's going to visit him or anything else, we're here for you man."

"The bakusquad's got your back, Blasty," Mina soothed. "Anything for our explosive Pomeranian."

And fuck, if that didn't almost bring the tears back once more. It was strange to feel this much ... love being directed to him. Not even the hag was this soft and gooey with him. It was weird, but ... Bakugou thought it might be a nice thing to get used to.

He wiped away his remaining tears as he gave them a small smile, and purposefully ignored the dramatic gasp that drew from Denki. "I ... I've got an idea to uh, to honour Izuku and all the other quirkless kids out there. I was going to go to Aizawa tomorrow and ask him about it and get an update on everything going on," he huffed feeling his cheeks flush as he looked at his hands. "If you guys want to tag along ... I guess I wouldn't stop you."

Kiri beamed at the blond and lightly punched his knee, no matter badly he wanted to wrap him into an unbreakable embrace. "You got it man. We'll talk to Aizawa and we'll make it so no kid has to go through what Izuku did again."

Bakugou scoffed, and peered over at his desk once more. "Those are big words, Ei."

"Not for you," Mina grinned. "Not for Lord Explosion Murder. Not for Bakugou Katsuki. You want to honour Izuku's memory and change how society sees quirkless kids? Then we'll do it. And if it's just the five of us, then so be it. We'll give every one of those quirkist bastards a run for their money and show them just how strong and loud the quirkless can be."

They were serious. He had no doubt that they meant every single word that was coming out of their mouths. It wouldn't matter if it put the rest of the world against them, these dorks would stand beside him and support him in whatever he chose to do. But it was different from the mindless lackies he had in middle school. They weren't with him because he was strong, or what they could get out of him, or because they feared him. They were with him because they loved him. 

Izuku would be proud.

He took Kiri's hand into his own and nodded at him with a sharp feral grin. "Then I guess we're going to change the fucking world. For Izuku."

"For Izuku!"

Chapter Text

Too many people thought Shouta Aizawa was an emotionless, cruel, fighting machine who cared for nobody. They claimed his drowsiness was a display of laziness. They claimed his track record of expelled students was a stunt of ignorance, pride, and sadism. They claimed his cold demeanor meant he had no heart. 

He was sure those people would be pissing themselves if they saw him marching his way towards Nezu's office with a righteous fire burning behind his eyes and Izuku Midoriya's notebook clutched tightly in his hand. The doors were already open for him when he got there. 

All Might sat on one of the brown leather couches, his elbows on his knees and his head dropped in between his knees. Even with the bent-over position, Aizawa could tell that the man's complexion was several shades paler and tinted green. 
Good. 
Aizawa silently took his seat across from the man with a scowl on his face and his arms crossed over his chest. 

"It seems you've both had quite the day," Nezu began, not even attempting to smile or use the normally cheerful demeanor he maintained. "I understand some serious allegations have been brought forward by young Bakugou, and I wish to hear about it from both of your perspectives," the retired pro-hero winced at the statement, drawing Nezu's eyes to him. "Yagi, I want to hear your side first. How do you know the deceased Izuku Midoriya?"

Yagi didn't say anything, not at first. His hands tightened into fists in front of him as he looked hauntedly at the floor between his feet. He was the very picture of regret and guilt. "I ... I was trying to save him," he spoke softly, his voice trembling in a way Aizawa had never thought possible for the confident Symbol of Peace. "I saved him from the sludge villain. I had barely made it in time as it was, and the kid had already fallen unconscious once. I wanted to take him to a hospital, but I was running out of time and the still villain needed to be brought into the station. His breathing sounded healthy, and he wasn't showing signs of a concussion, so I deemed him safe enough. That in itself was wrong of me, I know." He looked up at Aizawa and spoke firmly before the underground hero even had the chance to get his words out. "I wasn't thinking clearly," he sighed, hanging his head once more. "Evidently neither was the ki- ... Neither was young Midoriya. He clung to me and wouldn't let go. I brought him to the nearest surface I could, a roof with a fire escape. I intended on scolding him for his recklessness and leaving. But young Midoriya was insistent."

Aizawa's jaw clenched as he imagined the tale from Izuku's perspective. He survived a dance with death and was saved by his idol. It would've been a dream come true, but All Might was in a rush, practically dismissive of the kid (from a child's perspective at least) and Izuku was desperate. He knew from Bakugou that Midoriya's dreams had been mocked by his teacher and class just earlier that day, that he had been assaulted and suicide baited. All Might was the Symbol of Peace and the epidemy of hope for citizens everywhere. Izuku must have seen him and saw a chance to have everyone proven wrong. 

"My time ran out in front of him," Aizawa's attention snapped back to the hero. "He was quite shocked, reasonably so, and I saw no point in lying. I told him about my injury and the time limitation of my quirk and swore him to secrecy."

Aizawa felt annoyance flare up inside of him once more. "You let a fourteen-year-old know about a national secret and were willing to take his word as evidence enough of his secrecy?"

This time Yagi scowled. "What else was I supposed to do? It's not like I willingly detransformed in front of him. I held it off for as long as I could, but I ran out of time. On top of that, I still had a villain to take-in. It was a complicated situation."

Aizawa's felt his eyes flare at the statement. "Calm down, gentlemen," Nezu interrupted. "Let Yagi finish his side of the story, Aizawa," the seasoned teacher huffed at his boss's stern tone and slumped further back into his seat. Nezu nodded at the action. "As you were saying, Yagi. You detransformed and told him about your time limit. What happened next?"

Yagi's mouth snapped shut and he swallowed thickly. He regressed back to the nervous, hurt-puppy look that he had when Aizawa had entered. "He got over his shock. I tried to leave. He asked the question: 'Can a person who's quirkless become a hero like you?'" he fell silent. His sunken blue eyes were drowning in seas and storms of guilt that visibly shook the man at his very foundation. "I didn't say no to hurt him-"

"Fat load of good that did," Aizawa spat.
"Aizawa," Nezu reprimanded. "Continue Yagi."

He fiddled with his hands, his gaze drifting over the notebook sitting in Aizawa's lap. The underground hero had to repress the urge to hide the child's life work under his scarf, away from undeserving eyes. "I knew someone like him," the office went silent. "He was kind, driven. He wanted nothing more than to give hope to those around him. But he was quirkless. He could never be a hero."

Nezu's nose twitched as he tilted his head at All Might. "What makes you say that?"

"He tried," Yagi's voice grew distant as he spoke. "He tried so hard. He was given all the resources, training and miracles in the world. He tried to be a hero that could bring peace and happiness to the world, but he failed. He got fatally injured in a fight and lost everyone that ever mattered to him."

Aizawa's heart clenched. He saw the grief flooding All Might and thought of Oboro. He lightly bowed his head. "I'm sorry for your loss."

Yagi brushed off his words and corrected his posture. "It's in the past. Young Midoriya seemed like a good boy. He was obviously bright and had a big, selfless heart. I saw potential in him and it scared me. I didn't want the world to burn out that light and have him stuck in a hospital before he could reach the age of twenty," he sighed and ran a hand down his face. "I tried to let him down easy. I gave him some other options like police work, becoming a doctor, or teacher that would still let him help people and make a difference without endangering himself. I hoped he would find comfort in that and seek those options for his future and that he could live a long happy life. I ... I never thought for a second that ... that he would ..." he shook his head and looked out the window. "I just wanted him to be safe."

Quiet washed over them as All Might's story ran through their heads. Aizawa was mad. He was mad that Izuku had ever been put in that situation. He was mad that he even felt the need to ask the question. More than anything, he was mad that, to some degree, he understood All Might's actions. 

Nezu hummed before turning to the underground hero. "And what about you, Aizawa? What is your involvement in all of this?"

He lets his thumbs run over the cover of Izuku's notebook before closing his eyes. "Izuku Midoriya was the childhood friend and victim of Bakugou Katsuki," he peeked up at All Might, taking in the man's attentive stare. "Bakugou visits his grave every day to clean it from vandals who deface it and pay his respects. I caught him trying to sneak out of the dorms with Kirishima and insisted on accompanying him. He took me to the graveyard and introduced me to Midoriya. He told me how the two of them grew up together and were best friends until Midoriya was diagnosed as quirkless. Then Bakugou and the rest of the world stripped him of his rights and identity as a human being and labeled him as nothing more but Deku. Useless," All Might flinched at the words, but Aizawa wasn't done. "I read his notebook," he placed the mentioned book onto the small coffee table in front of him. "Midoriya Izuku was anything but useless. He wasn't just smart, he was a genius. From three minutes of video and a single witness encounter in the dark, he wrote an in-depth analysis of my quirk with more detail than any professional quirk analysist I have ever gone to," Nezu's ears perked up as his beady rodent eyes darted to the book with pure greed and curiosity. "More than that, besides constantly being beaten, humiliated, abused, ignored and suicide bated by literally everyone in his life, aside from his mother, he only ever used that knowledge for good. He'd leave anonymous advice for kids who he noticed were struggling with their quirk. He'd help anyone who needed it in whatever way he could. Despite nobody telling him otherwise, Izuku Midoriya was already a hero," his eyes narrowed as Yagi's hands began to tremble. "According to Bakugou, on the day you left him on that roof, he was publicly humiliated by his teacher, had his life work charred and thrown into a pond, and suicide baited by his ex-best friend. Then he got attacked by a villain," Yagi's eyes widened at the explanation. "It was, to say the least, a bad day when you found him."

"I-I ... I ..." Yagi closed his eyes and shook his head in despair. "I never thought that he would take my words in that way. I meant for them to encourage him."

And didn't that ignite the fires of vengeance inside Aizawa all over again. "Yagi, do you know the statistics around the quirkless population? Do you even understand what living a realistic life means for someone like them?"

"Settle down, Aizawa," Nezu spoke firmly. "I agree that Yagi needs to learn that lesson, however I wish for it to be something he learns on his own."

Yagi sat up and nodded firmly. "Yes. I will do better. Whatever punishment you see fit for me, I will take without complaint."

Nezu clicked his tongue as he took a sip of tea. "I would think so. Quite honestly, there isn't much we can do. You've already retired from your hero status due to the events of the Kamino Ward, and it would only do the greater public and the quirkless population more harm than good if we released what happened that day," Aizawa scowled at the words but didn't interrupt. He knew the rat was right. "So we will focus on your work here. Yagi Toshinori, you will henceforth be demoted to an assistant teacher and will require supervision for any and all interactions with students. This will be in place until you have retaken courses on the handling of civilians and trauma victims, as well as a course on the quirkless. Once those courses are complete, and you have regained my trust, only then will I allow you to continue your full-time position here at UA."

Yagi bowed deeply and nodded. "Of course. Thank you, Nezu."

Aizawa bit his tongue. He knew his emotions were entirely illogical. All Might wasn't at fault for Midoriya's actions. Technically, nobody was. But there was this ball of rage inside of him that demanded for something more — that this feeble excuse of atonement wasn't enough. He didn't know what he was looking for, but he was going to find it.

He rose to his feet and looked at the hero. "You said you believe that a quirkless person couldn't be a hero, primarily because of your friend's experience."

Yagi frowned but nodded. "It wouldn't be sa-"

"What about people with non-combative quirks?" He asked his tone as firm and cold as concrete. "Their quirks don't help them in a fight, can they be heroes? Is it safe for them?" The elder hero barely got to open his mouth before Aizawa pushed on. "You know, most of my colleges in the underground have non-combatant quirks. It's why we chose the underground," he allowed his eyes flare for a moment and took great joy in watching All Might remember exactly what Aizawa's quirk was. "We depend not on our quirks but our own hard-earned skills, intellect, and tools."

Yagi had the decency to look flustered, "I hadn't thought of underground. The boy asked about being a hero like me."

Aizawa narrowed his glare, "Oh so, like Sir Night Eye then," Yagi froze and finally met his gaze. He almost pitied the man with the amount of confusion that swam inside his eyes. "Your ex-sidekick. A hero who is highly respected and looked on fondly by the hero world. A well-known day-light hero. And yet he has a quirk that he can only use for an hour before he becomes quirkless for the next 24 until it can be activated again," Yagi didn't speak a word, his mind visibly reeling from the statement. "I suggest maybe you talk to him on whether a quirkless person can become a hero."

He picked up the book on the table and stood. "With all that settled, I have other matters to attend."

"Wait Aizawa," he froze at the sound of Nezu's voice. "Could you perhaps leave the book behind? I would rather like to read it."

He felt his hand instinctively tighten around it. "With all due respect, sir, it's not my place to grant that permission," without another word he left the office and headed toward his own.

The breath he let out as he sat in his desk held all the weight of the past 48 hours in a single exhale. He leaned back, closing his aching eyes, and allowed himself to simply process. 

This whole situation was odd to him. He didn't get emotional often. Sure, he admittedly had a soft spot for the hell spawns who managed to maintain their place in his classes, and he adored his husband and their cats more than he could possibly describe, but he didn't allow himself to care for others without the knowledge that they would be sticking around. 

And yet here he was, breaking his own heart over a kid who was already gone. 

It was illogical, but simultaneously made sense. Izuku affected one of his kids, so of course he would care about the matter, but more than that, the more he learned about Izuku the more he was reminded of himself when he was a child and that terrified him more than anything else.

He ran a tired hand over his face as he glanced down at the stack of notebooks sitting in his office. With a loud sigh, he sat up and picked up the top volume. "What are you doing to me, kid?" he murmured as he flipped through the booklet. "Why did so much trouble circulate around you?"

As if to answer his question, the flipping pages naturally stopped at the inside-back cover of the book. There, scrawled in black permanent marker read "Property of Midoriya Izuku. If found, please return to ****." He paused as he eyed the address and felt a strange sense of anticipation wash over him. All Might didn't have the answers as to what happened to this kid. At the end of the day, he was a retired super-star with a shotty memory at best. He only met the kid once. He alone didn't cause the tsunami of trauma that washed this kid away. Bakugou was a part of it, he knew that much, but so did Bakugou. The explosive blond had already atoned for his sins and Aizawa was proud of how far he had come just from the beginning of the school year. That left other factors. Home, for example, and school — the two places that should've been safe places for any kid. But Izuku was quirkless, and Aizawa knew that the quirkless didn't get to be safe. Neither did kids with villainous quirks.

He nodded to himself and quickly scrawled down Midoriya's home address before finding and copying down his school name and address as well. He picked up vol. 14 once more and delicately placed it in his bag. "Alright kid," he mumbled as he grabbed his car keys. "Let's find out what happened to you."

***

The drive over to Musutafu was heavy and quiet. Aizawa spent the entirety of it running over signs of an unhealthy household that he should look for in the Midoriya apartment and what kinds of subtle questions he should be asking. 

When he arrived the sight of the building made him pause. It wasn't decrepit or run down or displayed any signs of poverty. It was worth noting that though they were close to the more run down side of the district, this was actually a decent neighborhood. It boded well for Mr. and Mrs. Midoriya, though Aizawa knew better than to think that just because you lived in a nice home didn't mean you were safe. Todoroki had taught him that much. 

He slowly walked up to the door, his hand drapped over his bag with the notebook, as he knocked with the other. 

"Someone's at the door!" He heard a loud, strangely familiar voice call from inside. 
"Oh! Mitsuki will you get that?"

Not a second later the door swung open to reveal a casually dressed Bakugou Mitsuki. Her mouth opened, no doubt to snarl out a retort, before her eyes widened in recognition. "Oi! You're the brat's teacher, aren't you?" Her eyes widened as she worriedly glanced around him. "Is everything fine with Katsuki? How'd you even know I was here?"

"Hello, Mrs. Bakugou," he greeted plainly. "Your son is fine. I'm not actually here about him. I'm looking for Mr. and Mrs. Midoriya?"

Mitsuki scoffed as her crimson gaze hardened on to him. "You won't find a 'Mr. Midoirya' anywhere on this side of the ocean. Fucking bastard. But Inko is inside. Why?"

He could now understand where Bakugou's protective streak came from. "I'm afraid it's a private matter."

The woman did not like that. She reeled back, her nose scrunching up in distaste and finger-pointing towards him, but before she could get any words out a short, soft-figured woman stepped out from behind her. "Is everything alright Mitsuki? Who's at the door?" Green eyes locked on onyx as the woman gasped. "You're Katsuki's teacher! Is everything alright? Oh please tell me he hasn't gotten in trouble again. I don't think my heart could take it."

"Kats is fine, Inko," Mitsuki gently soothed, placing a hand on her friend's shoulder. There was a softness in her gaze that Aizawa recognized from when Bakugou looked at his own group of friends. "He says he's here to talk to you."

Inko's eyes widened even further. "M-Me?! B-But why?"

Aizawa nodded, "Yes. Young Bakugou has told me somethings recently concerning your son, Izuku Midoirya," Mitsuki's grip instantly tightened on the door as Inko stopped breathing, "I have some questions concerning him I would like to talk to you about."

Mitsuki growled as she stepped forward, out of the doorway and in front of Inko. "You have no right coming here and talking about him! That happened over a year ago! The police already have their statements and did shit all! How fucking dare you come here now and-"

"Mitsuki," the raging woman stilled at the sound of Inko gentle, quiet voice. A shaky hand reached out and pulled her back. "We have to at least hear him out. He defended Katsuki, remember? I trust him," the blonde scowled at her friend's words even as Inko smiled at him. "Come inside, sir. I'll make some tea."

He silently bowed in thanks before entering the apartment. It was decently sized, and would've been spotless if it weren't for the boxes littering the living room. "I apologize for the mess. You've caught me in the process of packing to move," he nodded at Inko's words, but in full honesty, the boxes weren't what had his attention. It was the large shrine on the side of the room. A framed picture of a smiling green-haired boy with green eyes sat in the center, surrounded by smaller photos of the boy and Inko, Bakugou, and Mitsuki and her husband. There was a well-worn All Might figurine sitting protectively beside an incense dish that watched over the living room. Aizawa tried to ignore the knot in his stomach as he finally had a face to attach to the boy he has beginning to know. He bowed and paid a moment of silence to the shrine before moving to sit on one of the couches. 

Inko came out from the kitchen not soon after with three mugs and a pot of tea. The three adults now sat in a heavy silence as Inko began to pour. With notably trembling hands she held a cup out to Aizawa, which he graciously accepted. "So," Inko began as she folded her hands in her lap, "You have questions concerning Izuku?"

Aizawa nodded and removed Izuku's notebook from his bag. Inko immediately reached out and gripped onto Mitsuki tightly at the sight of it. "First I would like to give my condolences for your loss. I can't imagine what you've gone through," Inko swallowed thickly at his words, her eyes already lining with tears as she squeezes her friend's hand. "Yesterday, Bakugou took me with him to visit young Midoriya's grave and told me about his death," this time, Mitsuki gasped at his words, but Inko was the one to speak up, 

"Please don't punish Katsuki!" her choked voice pleaded. "I, more than anyone, understand just how w-wrong what he did was, a-a-and part of me will never forgive him, but he knows that. He's proven that he doesn't want to be that person anymore. He's in therapy. He's the top volunteer at the local quirkless centre. He's been taking anger management classes. He takes care of Izuku's grave. The Bakugous are the only family I have now. Please."

"He's not in trouble," Aizawa reassured. "I know my students. From talking to Bakugou, I can tell you that how he handled his relationship with your son is his greatest regret. Though I will keep an eye out for any signs of his progress regressing," Inko and Mitsuki both slumped in relief. "I am here because I was curious about young Midoriya after the visit and asked that Bakugou allow me to look through young Midoriya's notebooks. I am very impressed by the content that I saw. Your son was a genius."

Inko gave a watery smile as she set down her drink. "He really was. Izuku loved superheroes. He always wanted nothing more than to be a hero. When ... When he didn't get his quirk he was shattered, b-but he didn't give up. He started doing analysis. I-I never realized how good h-he was at it until ... until after."

Aizawa fell silent for a moment, looking at the cup in his hands. "This isn't an easy question, Mrs. Midoriya, but I'm trying to understand your son and what brought him to his decision. To my understanding, young Midoriya was faced with constant battery from the world around him and that wasn't right. He deserved better. I'm aware I never met him, but I wish to do right by him."

Mitsuki wrapped an arm around her friend as silent tears trickled down Inko's face. "I-In full honesty, Mr. Aizawa, you're the first person, besides Mitsuki and the Bakugous, to be interested in my son in a genuinely positive manner. That in itself means so much more than you could possibly know."

Inko's words plucked at his heartstrings like a melancholic harp. He swallowed thickly as his mind drifted back to the vandalized gravestone. "Tell me about young Midoriya. What was he like?"

Inko's lip wobbled as she furrowed her brow in effort. She opened and closed her mouth in an attempt to grasp the words her heart wished to spill, but she found no traction. She glanced over at Mitsuki with pleading eyes. The blonde smiled tenderly at her friend at looked back at Aizawa with nostalgic eyes. "I'm sure you know the first quirk to ever exist was a child made of pure light?" Aizawa frowned and nodded. "Izuku may not have had that quirk, or any at all, but that boy was nothing but pure, unfiltered sunlight. He would smile at you, and you would feel your worries ease. Even as a toddler he was always so much more concerned with others than himself. I-I remember he'd always try and help me with the dishes, even when he couldn't reach the sink, and tried to keep my little demon in check when he got too nasty with the other kids playing with his toys," she let out a wet laugh as she wiped at her eyes. "Inko and I always said that those two were destined to be in each others' lives. From the moment they met, they always sought out the other. We had no idea when ..." she sighed. "They put up a really good act when we were around, let's just say that."

The smaller woman frowned as she glanced over at the shrine. "Izuku would ... every now and then he'd come home with his uniform dirtied or bruises or cuts. I always fretted over him and demanded answers every time I saw them. He'd always smile and squeeze my hand and said that he'd tripped down the stairs, or fallen into a dumpster trying to help a cat, or that he was just clumsy. I-It was always small injuries so I believed him. He was hiding so much from me. He didn't want me to worry," Inko's voice cracked as she grabbed a tissue from the table. "

Aizawa tilted his head, "Do you think he was being assaulted at school?"

"We know he was," Inko and Mitsuki replied simultaneously.

The blonde huffed as her shoulders tensed. "Katsuki told us everything. He was being tortured and that damn no-good school didn't do anything to stop it! They just watched! After Izuku ... After everything came to light we tried to confront them on it, to report them to the police, but the officers working on the case were fucking useless! They said they didn't find a single damn thing!"

Aizawa clenched his jaw at the explanation. He had no doubt the cops were either paid off or hadn't even looked in the school to begin with. Fucking quirkist pigs. "I'm sorry for their incompetency. I will personally see what I can do to amend that."

The two women blinked at him. "Y-You're ... You're going to Aldera?"

"Yes," he spoke firmly, without an ounce of doubt or hesitance. "I ... I suppose I slightly understand young Midoriya," the gruff teacher took a deep breath as he willed the lowers that he had spent decades building to lower. "I was isolated from my classmates growing up and ostracized because those around me deemed me to be too dangerous due to my quirk. Many people have called me a villain. Many people still believe I am one. My husband was muzzled by his teachers for a similar reason," he took a moment and swallowed down the uncomfortable lump trying to build a home in his throat. He found Inko's gaze and spoke with the determination of a true hero. "I promised when I became a hero that would I would do all in my power to stop those very same injustices from happening. It's partially why I chose underground heroics. So believe me when I say, I'm going to find out what they did to your son."

Inko finally broke as she hunched over herself, sobbing out 'thank you' over and over again. Mitsuki quickly pulled the woman into her side and rubbed her back as she met Aizawa's gaze. "Burn that fucking hell hole to the ground," her voice was barely over a whisper, but fatally cold as her fiery red gaze locks onto his and with nothing short of a mother's rage.

"You have my word."

Chapter Text

Aizawa resisted the urge to go back to his car and grab his capture weapon as he stood in front of Aldera Middle School. It stood tall, plain, and intimidating as every prison that he'd ever entered. The small, rusted playground to the right of the school grounds was the only visible flash of colour as lifeless, little eyes stared longingly out the mathematically placed windows. 

He loosened the suit and tie that he had put on for his mission and made his way inside the main door. The grey, empty halls didn't offer any more comfort than the exterior. His foot steps echoed along with the water dripping from one of the ceiling tiles into a bucket down the vinyl-lined hallway. He forced the fixed frown on his face to relax as he reached the secretary's desk. The woman sitting there lazily smacked on a piece of bubble gum as she slowly typed at her computer, completely oblivious to the man standing in front of her. Aizawa cleared his throat and the woman looked up at him like he was a piece of gum stuck to her shoe. She chewed her gum once, twice, as her eyes scanned up and down the underground hero. "Can I help you?" she croaked with gravel rattling in her vocal cords. 

Aizawa silently pulled out his teacher ID for UA and placed it on her desk. "Yes. I'd like to talk with your principal?"

She rolled her eyes as she picked up the card. "Listen, buddy. You can't just stroll in here without-" Her chewing gum became lodged in her throat as he dull eyes bulged from her skull. The secretary wheezed, punching her chest to stop herself from choking as she rose to her feet. "Y-Y-You're from UA?! My apologies sir! Hold on! I'll get the principal right away!"

Aizawa scoffed as the woman scurried off. He leaned forward, attaching a small, near invisible, metallic disk to the back of her computer as he heard a panicked shout come from one of the offices. A door slammed open as a tall lanky man with a balding head and a forced, greedy smile rushed ahead of the secretary. "Ah! Welcome to Aldera Middle School, sir! I-I wasn't aware that UA was going to be sending a representative today, b-but we are honoured to have you here in our prestigious facility. My name is Mr. Nakamura, I am the principal here."

The underground hero watched as the man deeply bowed, and picked up his ID from the counter once more. "Hello. I apologize for the sudden meeting, I have been sent to discuss certain matters with you." he eyed the obviously eavesdropping secretary. "Alone."

The principal chuckled nervously. "Why of course! Right this way, sir."

It was with no pleasure that Aizawa followed him. Every step he took further into this rat hole, he felt an annoying itch digging its way under his skin. He bit back a sigh as the man closed the door and smiled at him with eyes flashing like golden, greedy coins as he pulled a seat out for the underground hero and took a seat behind his desk. "So! What is all of this about? I imagine you're here because of Mr. Bakugou. I think you'll find we have plenty of other strong young heroes in training like him in our ranks as well! Any one of them would be a great addition to UA!" 

Aizawa hummed, eyeing the class photo of Bakugou's year that was sitting proudly on the principal's desk — though it seemed the left side of it had been trimmed down. Considering Izuku was nowhere to be seen in the picture, he could imagine why. "Yes, Bakugou is an incredible student. One of our best. I'm sure you must be proud?" he questioned as he leaned forward, subtly sticking a bug to the underside of the man's desk. 

Nakamura's smile grew, the gullible idiot, as he picked up the photo of Bakugou's class. "Of course we are! Everything Bakugou is today comes from us, you know? We ensured he had every chance possible to practice his quirk," so possible enablement illegal quirk usage, Aizawa noted, "we made sure to encourage his dreams to become number one hero!"

Huh. So Aldera was to blame for Bakugou's superiority complex. 

He nodded along, offering the principal a forced smile, "It certainly shows. Though I do have a question about another student, if you don't mind?"

The greedy look behind the man's eyes only grew brighter and brighter. "Of course! Who is that's caught UA's attention?"

"Midoriya Izuku," the temperature in the room instantly dropped Nakamura froze. The smile on his face twitched but didn't fall. However, Aizawa could see a bead of sweat begin forming on his forehead. 

Nakamura chuckled nervously as he tilted his head at the man. "I-I'm sorry, but I'm afraid I've never heard of a Midoriya Izuku. Did you perhaps misread the name of the student you're looking for? We currently have a Machida Ikuyo who has a rather impressive force field quirk! He's only a second year, so it's still a while before he enters UA but-"

"No. I am not speaking incorrectly. I am here about Izuku Midoriya. Quirkless. Green hair. Green eyes. Same class as Bakugou Katsuki. Killed himself while he was a student at this school. Sound familiar?" he tilted his head in a parody of the principal's own mock confusion. 

The man had the gall to tap his chin as he looked down at the photo that was still in his hand. "Hmm, I don't see anyone of that description here. Give me a moment. I'll look through our records," He turned to his computer and began tapping loudly on his laptop. "May I ask what this is all about? It's a shame that this 'Midoriya' died in such a tragic way, but to my understanding, suicides are usually straightforward as far as investigations go."

Nakamura's hands trembled as he typed. His jaw had been so tightly gritted that Aizawa was surprised he didn't shatter his teeth. His skittish gaze kept flickering back to the underground hero.

Aizawa nodded at the man's question, not once taking his eyes off him. "Normally yes. However, it came up in discussion recently, and I admit I was curious as it seems to partially effect my student. I'm sure you understand, as a teacher yourself" 

The hair on the man's forehead was now damp with sweat as he chuckled. "Of course! Our students our always our priority here at Aldera," he swallowed thickly as he turned the screen to Aizawa revealing a name search for "Midoriya Izuku" and a empty search result. "A-As you can see, there's nothing here for the name you're looking for. I-I'm sorry we can't help you further," Nakamura licked his lips as he pulled his hands towards him. "P-Perhaps young Bakugou is remembering incorrectly or is confused. The poor boy has been through so much trauma this year alone," Aizawa narrowed his eyes at the heavy implication in the man's voice. "Maybe it's best to drop the matter? Even if it did happen, it's in the past. You wouldn't want something like this to badly reflect on your student afterall," For the first time since stating his true reason for being here, the principal met Aizawa's gaze. "Just some professional advice. From one teacher to another."

Aizawa took a deep breath to cool the boiling anger raging in his gut. "Thank you, Mr. Nakamura. I'll be sure to keep that in mind," the principal stupidly relaxed at his words. "If that's all, I'm afraid I should be going." 

The principal jumped to his feet, eyes wide, "W-Wait! Don't you want to hear about our other students? We have some real heroes in our classes, I assure-"

"I've seen enough," he finally snapped, just barely keeping his quirk in check. "Thank you for your time. Goodbye, Mr. Nakamura," without another word, Aizawa left that horrendous office and stormed out of the school as quickly as could. 

The second he sat down in his car, he ripped that stupid tie off his neck and reached back for his laptop. Using all of his training from Nezu, he slipped a pair of headphones on a plugged into the bug's feed while simultaneously beginning to sift through the files that he was draining the chip on the secretary's computer.

"Why? Why, why, why are they digging into this again? He was just some geneless brat! It's not like anybody even cares! So why now?!" Nakamura's voice spoke clearly through his headphones. There was some low grumbling followed by the clicking of a phone. "Mrs. Ito. I want you to clean out any and all remaining files we have on Midoriya Izuku. If they're looking into this again, I don't want any chances that it will be lead back to us." 

"Right away, sir," the mousy secretary replied. Aizawa watched with mixed frustration and amusement as the files were deleted straight from her computer and into the chip's auto-saving port that Power-Loader had added for this very purpose. 

What came in wasn't just the typical student records and security footage that he had expected, but instead piles and piles of non-disclosure-agreements signed by every single teacher listed on the school's faculty and all the students that Aizawa had seen filed under Izuku's middle school homeroom, with the exception of Bakugou, agreeing to never speak a word about Midoriya Izuku or anything that had happened to him — all dated the day after Izuku's suicide was publicized. 

Pure disgust rolled his stomach. These people, these adults who were meant to be nurturers and caretakers of all the youth in their halls, had willingly signed agreements to sweep Izuku's existence and mistreatment under a rug and completely forget about him. All because he lacked a fucking quirk. 

He gritted his teeth as he threw his laptop into his passanger seat, allowing it to finish downloading all of Aldera's files, before fastening his seatbelt and stepping on the gas. This was not something he had the patience to do in this hell hole's parking lot where he could still easily storm in and strangle that pathetic excuse of a principal's neck. He needed his sleeping bag, coffee, and immediate access to Nezu. 

With murder and vengeance on his mind, Aizawa made his way back to UA.

***

There was no rest for him when Aizawa arrived at his office. The chip he had attached to the computer provided him with far more than just the NDAs. There were hours of footage from the school's security cams that, according to the chip, had been deleted from heavily sealed files from the secretary's computer. There were dozens of incident reports with Midoriya Izuku listed as both the offender and the one with the most injuries. Aizawa plugged his headphones in and got to work. 

With each tape his stomach sunk further and further into a pit of pure disgust and outrage — But he didn't dare look away. Instead, he bore witness as Izuku, from ages as young as twelve to the fourteen years old that he had been when he died, was jammed into lockers, had food poured on top of him, slurs written all over his desk, punched, kicked, tortured by the quirks of nearly all his peers, all while the teachers watched — some even did it with a smile. He narrowed his eyes and mentally counted in his head the number of times Bakugou appeared on the screen as the main abuser; the number was far too high for his liking. 

But it wasn't just the students abusing him and the teachers being bystanders. He watched Izuku's homeroom teacher, the quirk counselor, and Mr. Nakamura himself take their so-called "detentions" to malicious extents. The kid was beaten with rulers, made to run laps until he collapsed in a pool of his own vomit, constantly degraded and gaslighted into thinking that he was cheating if he dared to show a trace of his intelligence and that he was below every single person in this school. 

By the time the day's bell had rung, Aizawa had only made it through the first year of Izuku's time at Aldera. 

He swallowed down the nauseous feeling in his stomach and picked up his office phone. 

"Detective Tsukauchi," a tired voice rang in his ear. "What is it this time, Eraser?"

Aizawa's knuckles turned white as he clutched the phone tighter in his hand, his eyes falling to the terrified tears in twelve-year-old Izuku's eyes as his teacher approached him. "I need an investigation opened on Aldera Junior High, it's principal and teachers for abuse of power and discriminatory based emotional and physical child abuse, child neglect, enablement of abuse and torture, enablement of illegal quirk use-"

"What the- Eraser, what-"

"I'm not finished," he interrupted, his voice as sharp as the blade he keeps on his back. "illegal quirk use on a child, expungement, tampering with evidence, deterring a police investigation, and instigating the suicide of Midoriya Izuku," he finished coldly. His hand was shaking by the time he finished listing it all. 

Tsukauchi went quiet on the other line before letting out a low whistle. "Is that all?"

Aizawa couldn't help but scoff, "Honestly, I wouldn't be surprised if you found more. I'll send you the evidence I've collected. You'll definitely be able to get a warrant, if not a cease and arrest from this alone."  

He could hear the detective curse on the other side. "You got it. Kami, Eraser. How'd you dig this one up?" 

The underground hero leaned back in his chair, running a hand through his hair. "One of my students was one of Midoriya's main student abusers and has been trying to atone for everything. He's upset that Midoriya never got the justice he deserved."

Tsukauchi went quiet for a moment. "Eraserhead. You are aware that if I open up this investigation, depending on what I find it could end up on your kid's record?"

Aizawa thought back to Bakugou, kneeling crying by Izuku's grave. He thought of the desperation and grief in Inko's eyes as she pleaded him to have mercy on the boy. He thought of the disbelief on Izuku's face through the screen as Bakugou told him of a faster way that he could get a quirk. He closed his eyes, leaning into the palm of his hand. "I know. The kid knows too. We'll talk conditions and consequences when it comes to that with his mother and Inko Midoriya present."

"That bad?"

He couldn't help but laugh at the pity in the detective's voice. "You have no idea. This is a big one, detective. Law changing big, if we play it right."

A groan was heard from the other line as Tsukachi poured himself another cup of coffee. "Sounds like a lot of paperwork and overtime, but I know you don't exaggerate with cases like this. Consider it handled. I'll keep an eye out for the evidence you're sending."

Aizawa's head perked up as a knock sounded at his door, he spotted five distinct shadows through the slim window. "Thank you, detective. I've got to let you go. My students are here." 

"Alright. You owe me coffee for this one, Eraser."

The hero snorted. "You take care of this, and I'll get you bottle of rum to go with your shitty coffee tastes. Have a good night, detective," without another word, he hung up the phone and straightened his shoulders. "Come in."

He wasn't at all surprised when a frowning Bakugou walked in followed by his squadron of friends. He raised an eyebrow at them as Bakugou stood there, quietly glaring at him and the others looked at their leader expectedly. Eventually, Kirishima cleared his throat and elbowed the blond. Bakugou sneered back at him before sighing and turning to face his teacher. "You said you'd be available to talk."

Aizawa nodded and folded his hands on his desk. "I meant it."

Bakugou nodded, wiping his palms on the sides of his pants as he glanced at his friends. "I, uh, I talked with these idiots like you recommended," none of the group even blinked at the insult. "And ... And they had a pretty fucking ballsy idea, but I ... I want to do it." 

The underground hero took a moment to observe his students. Kirishima's eyes were practically sparkling with a sense of pride that he'd never seen in the boy before. Kaminari was bouncing on the balls of his feet, his gaze flickering between Bakugou and his professor. Sero had his normal relaxed grin but kept a hand on Bakugou's shoulder that the blond had yet to brush off. Mina stood in the back, watching her boys with a fondness that Nemuri used to watch him, Hazashi, and Oboro with all the time. He nodded in acknowledgment and looked at Bakugou, "What's the idea?"

The blond let out a shaky breath, Sero squeezing his shoulder. "I ... We, um, we want to do something about the quirkless situation. I-Izuku never should've been put in the situation he was in, in the first place, and I just fucking know that there are more little shits like him out there. We want to fight for them. Offer them support and a fucking chance or whatever."

After all the heaviness that the day had provided, Aizawa couldn't help but smile softly at the kid's words. "Alright," he stated bending down and opening a drawer in his desk to grab some forms. "There aren't many quirkless students at UA and most of them are in general studies, but you'll need to fill out these forms if you want to start a support club or union of some kind-"

"No," Kirishima cut off, reeling back as Aizawa gave him a look. "S-Sorry! I-I just mean, we weren't talking about UA."

"We're going bigger!" Kaminari provided.

Mina smirked as she crossed her arms over her chest. "We want to take this city wide."

Sero nodded in agreement, "For now, that is. Eventually, it'll be bigger."

While all his friends were grinning, Bakugou's expression remained deadly serious as he kept his crimson eyes fixed on his teacher. "We want to change quirkless law and lives for the entire fucking country. We'll fucking protest or do whatever the fuck it is you're supposed to do. We'll do it. Just tell us how." 

For a second, Aizawa could see it. Pro-Heroes Pinky, Red Riot, Chargebolt, Cellophane, and ... whatever Bakugou would end up choosing for his hero name. He could see them, standing on a stage, a megaphone in Bakugou's hands as he screamed the story of the life that he damned. As he demanded that the world be better then he was. He could see them leading marches, glaring at senators, and refusing to stay down until action was finally taken. These students were some of the most bull-headed, determined kids he had ever met. If there was anyone he could see making this change, it was them.

He couldn't remember the last time his heart had felt so full and warm.

Silently, Aizawa opened another tab on his computer and quickly pulled open a few websites before printing out some pages. He held them out to his students. "These are guides on how to start on your journey in activism, as well as some of the laws you might want to be aware of surrounding the legal work. There's also a protest safety guide in there with some dos and don'ts," Bakugou's breath hitched as he took the papers. "As your teacher, I have to say that I am not accountable for any of your actions outside of class. I can offer advice, but that's all it is, advice. Whatever you do is your own choices. But, as your fellow hero ..." He stood up and placed a hand on Bakugou's shoulder. "I am extremely proud of you, and I wouldn't mind knowing the dates and locations of any events you intend on organizing. If you need any further help, you can always contact me."

"Sensai," Kirishima choked from behind the blond.

"You do love us!!!" Kaminari's shout was the only warning he got before he was practically tackled by four of his students.

He grunted, taking the impact, and sighed before patting their backs. "Urgh. Problem children. All of you. Off, or I'm giving you detention."

Sero chuckled, not moving from his place in ambush. "Too late, sensai! We already know how much of a softy you are now!" 

Aizawa groaned turning his head to look at Bakugou once more. The boy's eyes were glassy as he looked down at the papers in his hand with a slight smile. The two of them made eye contact, and Bakugou silently bowed his head before looking at his friends with an exasperated expression. "Get off him, you clingy morons! He's a person, not a goddamn pillow!" 

The teens pouted as Bakugou smacked the back of their heads. They all waved goodbye and thanked him once more before stepping outside his office. 

He took a moment to breathe, glancing at the hard drive sitting on his desk. There was a lot of darkness in the past of Izuku Midoriya, but Aizawa could at least rest knowing that some light was about to be brought to this world all in the name a genius green-haired kid who was never given the chance. With another heavy sigh he packed up his begs and finally headed home.

Hizashi wasn't at the apartment. He wouldn't be back until the radio show wrapped up around 3 a.m. Aizawa slipped off his shoes, and stepped into a pair of slippers before plopping his bag onto the ground. He bent down, scooping his darling cat Sushi into his arms, and practically buried his face into her fur as he just stood there for a moment, holding her. He didn't move, not even when Sushi began meowing, he just existed for a moment. Eventually, the cat began squirming and he resigned himself to putting her down and moved deeper into the apartment — Sushi pattering closely behind him. 

He made it to his bedroom, a place of solace and comfort for both him and Hizashi. For the first time, he hesitated before crossing the threshold, eyeing the closet in the back corner of the room. His hand unconsciously reached to his back pocket.

With a deep breath, he approached the solemn corner and opened the closet.

Staring back at him was an all too familiar shrine that was consistently used by both he and Hizashi. It was originally built for Oboro — their beloved classmate and friend who died earlier than either of them could fully comprehend. Because of this, Hizashi painted the small shelf it was set up on in a bright, blue in honour of their joyous friend. But it wasn't long before the shrine grew. It held pictures of the first civilians that Present Mic and Eraserhead had lost respectively. There were pictures of each and every one of his students who had graduated only to die in the field in the line of duty. 

With a shaking hand, Aizawa removed the small picture of fourteen-year-old Izuku that Inko had gifted him earlier that day. In it, Izuku was beaming at the camera, a slight blush on his cheeks, as he waved at his mother behind the camera. Inko explained the photo was taken when the two of them went to see the new All Might movie for Izuku's birthday. He swallowed around the lump in his throat as his thumb traced the boy's face before he placed it onto the shrine. 

He held his breath as he slowly lit the candles and incense on the stand, before kneeling before it and bowing as low as he able. His eyes burned as he squeezed his eyes shut, shoulders shaking as the events of the day washed over him. So he bows, and he mourns, and he grieves, and he promises that he will he do his best to bring honour to Izuku's name for as long as he lives. Just as he did with every other photo on the shrine. 

Chapter Text

Yagi Toshinori sat and stared at the door that Aizawa had stormed out of. 

It was ... difficult to wrap his mind around the day's events. For starters, while Young Bakugou had always been a little rough around the edges, there was no denying that the boy admired All Might. He could see that fan-boy glimmer in his eyes even if the boy was shouting at him. But today, in that teacher's lounge ... Yagi could seldom remember the last time he had seen such hatred staring straight at him. But it was more than that. It was grief, disbelief, and even denial. Bakugou had wanted so badly for his hero to be able to deny what he had discovered. 

But he couldn't, because it was true. In part, his actions had led to the death of a child. A bright, kind, child. A child who, quirkless or not, should've been able to live a long life filled with accomplishments and memories.

Izuku Midoriya was dead. That was the truth. All Might was the last to see him. That was the truth. And there was no escaping that. 

Yagi found his head falling into his hands once more as his chest ached with the weight of his sins. "I didn't mean for this to happen. I would never ..." he heaved a sigh as he shook his head, but it did nothing to lighten the despair clinging to his bones. 

Nezu stared at him for a moment, expression carefully neutral. "Sometimes our actions, even with the best intentions, can have negative consequences if we are blind to the context surrounding them," the stout walked over to his desk and grabbed a few files before walking back over to the distressed hero. "This is some statistics and basic knowledge on the quirkless. Let it be a starting point for your research. I expect to hear that you reported for your new training courses beginning tomorrow. Am I understood?"

"Yes, Principal," he solemnly replied, gently taking the papers from him. "Thank you."

Nezu clicked his tongue as he stepped back. "Do not thank me. A child is dead. Please leave my office and consider what Aizawa said." 

Yagi winced at the sharp tone but nodded and bowed as he rose back to his feet once more. 

He wasn't fully conscious as he walked to his office. It was like he was floating, drifting through a sea of fog and disbelief. The world was foggy around him — figures shifting, shapes passing by — it wasn't until his house key hit the lock of the front door did he realize he had even made it home. He blinks at the wooden pane in front of him, slowly taking in familiar surroundings, and lets out a slow breath. 

He opens the door and enters. 

The house is plain, simple, and lacks personal items. It looks more like something you'd find in a magazine than the lived in home of the number one hero, but Yagi was rarely ever home enough to want to fully decorate it. He tosses his keys into the small glass bowl by his door and kicks off his shoes before dragging his stiff body over to the couch. He turns onto his back and stares at the ceiling. 

A child is dead.

A bright, kind boy is dead. A boy who simply asked his hero to have a little bit of faith in him and tell him the words he'd always dreamed of, was now buried as a consequence.

God it made him feel sick. 

He tries to think what he would've done if Nani had told him no. If she had given up on him and turned him away. If she had never given him his miracle of a second chance to make his dreams a reality. He could he have done. Join the police? Become a doctor? Follow any of the paths that he had recommended to Young Midoriya? He feels his heart clench at the thought — no. It wouldn't have been enough. He wanted — needed — to be out there. Saving people as they need help. Not after. He wanted to prevent disaster and maintain peace, not pick up the pieces afterwards. He wanted to be a symbol of peace. Of hope. 

Fuck, he needs a drink. He goes over to the kitchen and grabs his best, most expensive bottle of rum and quickly downs a glass before pouring himself another. 

Only then did he grab the file from Nezu and sits at his dining room table. A thin, beige folder stares back at him and somehow, even without eyes, Yagi feels as though the folder is looking through his perfect, chiseled on smile and into the imperfect emotion that lays inside. He takes a drink and opens it. 

The information inside is ... so much worse than he could ever imagine. 

When he was a kid, there was some discrimination. Kids that would bully him, adults who would give him the side eye, an occasional slur or two tossed his way, but nothing that he couldn't deal with or handle. But this ...

90% of quirkless youth face physical, social and verbal discrimination and abuse before the age of seven.

How did this-

There is no law written to protect quirkless persons in Japan, meaning that any and all refusal of service, unjust termination, and other forms of discrimination and segregation are legal. Many hospitals refuse to offer certain services. Grocery stores will raise prices, if not refuse service entirely. Employers will lower their pay rates. etc. 

How did he not notice-

Due to this discrimination, only 33% of quirkless youth survive to the age of sixteen. Of that percentile, 40% will be accepted into secondary school, 14% will find careers and be able to afford housing, and 5% will survive to be middle aged. 

Why hasn't any one-

The primary causes of death for quirkless persons are murder, neglect of some kind, and, leading the statistics with 68%, suicide. 

The page crumbles in his hand before he can do anything about it. He stares are at his closed hand, chest heaving, complexion pale and gaunt. These ... These were people. People that he was once a part of. People he was supposed to protect. How could he be the number one hero, the fucking Symbol of Peace, and not know this? How was he so blind to this dark, cruel life that this people are forced to endure until they break apart? Why was this even a reality that-

"I'm sorry. It's good to have dreams, but you should be more realistic."

Yagi barely makes it to his garbage can before he is vomiting what little contents his misshapen stomach can hold. It all comes washing over him at once. The fear and nervousness in his voice that lingered beneath the fragile hope and excitement. Those huge, teary green eyes looking straight through him. The determination and compassion that shown through even in the few moments that he knew him. The light that shattered upon a single answer. Yagi groans and shakes his head, taking a moment to rinse out his mouth as he fishes his phone out of his pocket and calls a number that he hadn't dared call in a very long time. 

It only needed to ring twice before a voice that threatened to make him even more sick spoke through. "Yagi. Why are you-"

"Can someone who's quirkless be a hero?" He quickly asks in a ragged, raspy voice. his hand shaking as he grips the phone with white knuckles. 

There is a pause before there's an answer. "I'm sorry. You haven't spoken to me in years while you're off on your self-sacrificial brigade and refusing any and all help that I offer you with finding a successor and you want to-"

"Mirai please," his voice cracks and he hears the man's breath hitch. "Please I just- I need-" he takes another deep breath and closes his eyes. "Can a person who's quirkless become a hero?" In a cruel, ironic sense, he feels desperate for the answer. But he now knows that the desperation he feels now is only a glimmer of what Young Midoriya must have felt when he asked him.

His former side kick and friend pauses once more. "Yagi are ... are you alright? Did something happen to One for All?"

His fists tighten at the mention of the quirk — the quirk that had unintentionally aided him in being so god damn oblivious to all the injustice happening right in front of him. 

"It's not about me," he grits through his teeth. "It's- I just need to know. Please."

Mirai huffs on the other end. "Fine. I'll amuse your strange question. But I demand an explanation afterwards." A faint clicking can be heard on the other end, that Yagi knows is the man fiddling with his stamps. "Can a person who's quirkless be a hero? Perhaps not one as boisterous and self-sacrificial as you. I definitely would not recommend giving one One for All, if that is what you're considering. Yagi?"

The blond hero runs a hand over his face. "It's not. It can't be. Please answer the question."

The answer seems to satisfy Mirai enough. "Good, because they wouldn't have any quirk experience at all to be able to properly use your quirk. The lack of control would be unsightly. I still have Young Mirio as an apprentice if you've rethought-"

"Mirai. The question," Yagi can't help but interrupt.

The seer clicks his tongue before continuing. "I can't see one making the charts any time soon. But considering the number of non-combative quirks we see in heros that have success as underground or even lesser known day light heroes, I wouldn't say it's impossible. Easy? Absolutely not. They'd need to turn their body into a weapon and be incredibly clever and intelligent about every move they make. But, it technically speaking could happen," he finishes and Yagi feels his heart sink more and more with each word. A shaky hand comes to cover his mouth. "Though considering the statistics, they'd have to be one of the most determined people on the planet." 

"Sometimes I do feel like I'm a failure... like there's no hope for me. But even so... I'm not gonna give up! Is it possible to become a hero, even if I don't have a Quirk? I'm a normal kid without any powers. Could I ever hope to be someone like you?" The shocks of pain running through him blur the words, but even through the faint sparks of annoyance at the fanboy's persistence he can hear the clear admiration and almost urgency in his tone. The kid's big green eyes fret around the roof top, still wide with shock from the day's events. "People think I don't have a chance. That not having any powers makes me some kind of weakling. My classmates like to make fun of me. But you know what? That makes me wanna prove them wrong!" There's a certain amount of unstable strength behind that statement. One that comes with someone trying to convince themself of something they so desperately want to be true. "Ever since I was a kid, I've thought that saving people is the coolest thing you can do. I want people to see my fearless smile and feel safe, and be the kind of hero everyone in the world looks up to. Just like you!" His breath catches as he gets a single second of a thousand watt smile and eyes pooling with hope. A single second. 

Then everything goes up in smoke.

Yagi heaves, spewing blood into his had and hacks and coughs. He can faintly make out Mirai's concerned shouts on the other ends, but he can't bring himself to care to reassure him as for the first time since Nana's death, he feels tears burn behind his eyes. The coughing fades into a faint choking sound — not a cry. The Symbol of Peace doesn't cry. — as his breath catches in his throat and his mind wanders to a possibility. 

What would've happened if he told the boy yes?

What would've happened if he gave him a chance, something no one else was willing to give him, and guided him as Nana once guided a dream-filled young Yagi?

He can see it. That passion. That heart. That determination. Growing and shaping into a blinding light that burns away at the darkness of the world around them. A boy who only ever dreamed of helping others being given the chance to help the world and proudly claim I am here!

He sees them training. Talking. Fighting side by side. Forming the very bond that he has been searching for to pass his power onto. 

He sees a future that can never come to fruition. 

"Yagi!" Mirai's shout pulls him out of his trance as he finally realizes his cheeks are wet, his throat sore, and he feels weaker than he has in years. "Yagi! I swear if you do not answer me, I will come over this instant and-"

"I messed up," he croaks in response. "I've ... I've made a mistake and now-" his voice cracks as he starts coughing again. His chest burns. He's never felt so heavy and useless. "I need to make this right," his eyes fall back onto the folder and for the first time since all this began, a sense of certainty fall over the hero. "I'm going to make this right."

There's an annoyed huff from the other line. "What are you talking about?"

Even though the other man can't see it, Yagi shakes his head. "I have to go. I'll explain later. Thank you."

"Yagi-" he doesn't hear the rest as he quickly hangs up his phone. He picks up the folder and goes to his desk to open his laptop. 

He had research to do. He may not be able to be All Might any more, but he still held some weight and value to the hero world. He could use that. He would use that. Things needed to change before another person fell victim to this society's ignorance, but first, he had to become educated himself. 

With a big breath, Yagi began to read. And with every article, every forum, every document that he found and carefully took in word by word, he became more and more determined that something had to be done. He would do this. He say "I AM HERE" one last time, louder than ever before, and he would be doing it not as All Might, the Symbol of Peace. But as Yagi Toshinori, the quirkless boy who just wanted to make the world a better place.

He spent a week doing this and taking the courses that Nezu had sent for him, before he finally realized there was one more thing he had to do before going forward with any of this. 

Yagi Toshinori stood in front of a grave stone.

In his hands were a pot with a carefully tended white orchid in it and a simple meal of rice and egg that he had made since he was unsure of the boy's preferences. His chest was tight with uncertainty and guilt as the simple and tarnished stone stared back at him with undeniable evidence of his crime. He frowns at the graffiti painting the boy's stone and clenches his jaw at the cruelty that follows Young Midoriya even after death. He shakes his head and kneels in front of the stone, setting down his offerings before he scrubs at the stone with the sleeve of his shirt, trying to scrapee off the paint. "What has the world come to?" he grumbles to himself, doing the best, though his hand slows around the carefully etched letters of the young boy's name. He sighs, and pulls away before bowing so low that his forehead is touching the ground. 

He doesn't say anything. Not at first. He simply keeps his head low, and eyes shut, and lets the remorse and regret wash over him for a few minutes — as if his actions could somehow be projected into the after life. He swallows thickly as he sits back up and looks at the stone. 

He gently pushes his offerings forward, and only then does he speak. 

"I ... I never gave you a chance," he began. "I didn't know you, Young Midoriya, and yet I answered your question with as much certainty as I did because I ... I saw a glimmer of myself in your conviction and I think that scared me," he runs his hand down his face and shakes his head as his eyes drop down to his hands. "You were just a kid wanting to hear some form of encouragement from their idol. You weren't looking for a reality check — you already knew the reality way more than I did and I failed you," he sniffles just a little bit before letting out a slow breath and looking at the grave with determination. "But I promise you. I will not fail you or the quirkless community again. I will make things right. I-"

"HEY! What do you think you're doing?!" his eyes widen as he hears a feminine voice shout behind him. 

Yagi quickly scrambles to his feet and turns around to face them. "I am sorry. I am just here to pay my-" his voice catches as a pair of familiar big green eyes meet his — only these ones are filled with a mother's fury that only grows as they glimmer with recognition. "You must be Mrs-"

SLAP!

Yagi blinks a couple of times as he tries to process the very faint pain tingling in his cheek. The petite woman is shaking before him, her eyes lined with tears but simultaneously hold so much grief and anger. "You're All Might," she speaks lowly in a tearful voice that's overflowing with emotion. Yagi feels pinned on the spot. "I saw the news broadcast when you saved Katsuki. He's told me so much about you." her lip wobbles as she raises her chin slightly. "Like how you were the last person to see my baby alive." The woman's obvious pain strikes right through him. Yagi finds himself at a loss for words — all he can do is keep his head bowed and eyes low and take whatever rage she wished to throw at him. 

Inko steps closer. "You were Izuku's entire world. Ever since he learned about your existence you were everything that he strived for. Him watching your interview where you very clearly and proudly state that 'anyone can be a hero' was one of the happiest moments of his life. But when he finally got a chance to meet you, you were a hypocrite, Mr. All Might. Because apparently anyone, but my son, can be a hero. Is that right?" Yagi's palms sweated. The lump in his throat got larger. Inko growls and moves until he has no choice but to look at her. "Answer me!"

"No," he answers and chokes as the woman's eyes narrow. "I-I mean, no, I was wrong. I- I was ignorant and wasn't thinking. I never intended for any of this to happen, and I know there is nothing I can do to correct what I have done or earn forgiveness, but I am eternally and sincerely sorry for what I said and did that day. He- He could've been- should've become a hero." he states before falling back onto his knees and bowing once more. 

Inko is quiet as she stands there, silently crying and looking down at the former number one hero. Yagi wouldn't blame the woman if she kicked him in the face. He deserved it. He wouldn't blame her for banning him from ever visiting Izuku's grave again and demanding that he never even speak the boy's name. He had no right. 

A hand falls on his shoulder. He looks up and sees those sorrowful, wet eyes looking down at him. She is clearly trying to remain composed as she closely inspects the hero's expression. She gets down on the ground along side him, her hand not moving. "My son," she speaks, her voice choked full of grief, "was already a hero," Yagi can't help but be slightly confused by the statement. Inko continues. "He was the bravest person I knew. He had this- this gift for knowing when people needed help even if they didn't ask for it. He knew. And he would offer his silent aid without any expectation of payment or reward or even gratitude." She lets out a shaky breath, tender eyes going to the grave stone before them. "But he never accepted help from others," Yagi couldn't help but feel his chest tighten at the statement — the two of them were just so impossibly similar. "He was so determined to be strong on his own. To give, give, give, but never take. He was selfless. And I ... it took so much out of him. Especially when this world could never appreciate the love that he had to offer."

Yagi nods, glancing over at the woman. "I've been doing some reading. I ... I was unaware of what life for quirkless people is like," Inko stiffens at the statement. "It isn't right," he brings his hand up over hers and gently squeezes it. "I couldn't do right by your son," he states firmly. "When he needed me most, I failed him. But I want to fix things. I've been educating myself and I- I- still have some influence with the law. I want change things. So there's never another case like Izuku Midoriya's."

Inko lets out a choked sob, her free hand coming to cover her mouth as she takes a second to try and compose herself. She reaches into her purse, pulls out a flyer, and hands it to the blond. 

Yagi's eyes flicker between the woman and the sheet of paper. It appears to be a draft of an event poster, for a presentation and protest against the treatment of quirkless people, organized by Class-1A of UA. It calls for anyone in the public to attend and for Quirkless people to come forward to share their stories, speak of the abuse they face, and demand justice. The date is listed to happen about a month from now.

He looks back at Inko who stares straight back at him with a firm, and serious expression. "Katsuki and his friends think similarly," she begins. "As much as I appreciate the efforts that they're going through, I've lived through enough to know that this event alone will not change much. They need a voice of power. Someone people know and trust. Someone they will listen to," she stands back up and dusts off her skirt as she does. "If you truly mean what you said to me, you'll talk with Katsuki, and you'll be there. You will take back what you said about my son and you will personally ensure that we live in a world where there can be a quirkless hero without question." There's an air of authority and almost elegance around Inko as she speaks down to him. Her eyes maintaining that emotional vulnerability even as her expression stays in a stony sobriety. "Do you think you can do that, All Might?"

He bows his head once more.

"I will not rest until do. You have my word. I will not fail your son again."

She gives a firm nod, and turns away. "I will let Katsuki know to expect to hear from you," she steps up to her sons stone, a single hand gently caressing the top of it before she turns away completely. "Goodbye, All Might."

Yagi sat in silence, now alone in the cemetery with his thoughts, and yet somehow, he felt as though a small weight had been lifted from him and he had a purpose once more. 

He would make things right. He would change the way things were. 
And he would do it all in the name of Izuku Midoriya.

Chapter Text

Life was a strange thing. 

It is fragile, and often so much more disappointing than one had anticipated. It is relentless, merciless, and will attack over and over again until all the light is snuffed. It never turns out how'd you imagined — for better or for worst. 

For Midoriya Izuku, it was for the worst. 

First life made him quirkless. Then it took his father, and his best friend. Then it crushed his dreams and turned the entire world against him — Even his hero, All Might. And then, as if 14 years and non-stop torment and agony wasn't enough, life had to throw him one more cruel curve ball and did the impossible. 

It made him a ghost. 

Being a ghost wasn't nearly as cool as it was in the books and movies. He couldn't talk to people no matter how hard he tried, and he tried. He couldn't touch or feel anything. There were no other ghosts for him to talk or relate to. No way for him to be noticed or felt. It turned out he had killed himself only to become even more invisible than he had been in life.

Wasn't that just ironic? 

Watching his own funeral had been as weird as it was sad. He stood beside the podium, screaming, sobbing along side his mother as she spoke what she thought would be her final words to him. He had to watch Kaachan, standing beside Mitsuki, cry for the first time since ... Gods, he doesn't know if he's ever seen Kaachan cry. It was strange, and made his cold, dead self feel even more hollow than he usually does.

And then everything continued, and life went on, just as he knew it would, and he was still here. It pained him more than a little that he couldn't figure out exactly why he was here. If he was living he could do all the research his little brain desired and would undoubtedly spend sleepless nights hunched over his laptop filling an entire notebook with his findings. 

But he couldn't even lift a blade of grass any more. Forget a pen or laptop. 

Ugh. Fuck death.

Since research, talking, and you know, anything actually entertaining, was off the table, Izuku spent most of his days following around the few loved ones he had or occasionally debating his life choices at his grave. Which, in some ways, he was grateful for. It meant he could keep an eye on his mom and pretend to tell her about his day like he always did. It meant he got to witness the change and growth that Kaachan had gone through — albeit much too late. It was lonely, but if he was trying to be optimistic, he was glad he still got to have them in his life, even if he couldn't be in theirs anymore.

He had been sitting there beside his gravestone, staring at the stars, when he heard the familiar sounds of Katsuki's shouts and cursing as he saw the inevitably awful state of Izuku's gravestone. He sat up immediately — more than a little relieved to see his friend out and about again after being kidnapped by a villain. He tilted his head, watching as Katsuki began to scrub. 

"Hey Kaachan," He said, even though he knew there was no way for the blond to hear him. "Been a while. Looks like you healed up pretty well from ... um ... everything," He says awkwardly, and chuckles to himself as he looks away and finally spots the other two people the boy had brought with him. Kirishima wasn't a suprise. Kaachan had been bringing him over for a while now, but he was not expecting Katsuki to bring his teacher here. That was for sure.

He found himself silently moving to sit on top of his grave, watching the interaction with the same intensity that he would analyze his hero fights. There was a strange buzz of something akin to dampened version of buzzing of a violin wavering through him as Katsuki told his story to his teacher. Izuku wished that he was surprised when Kaachan started blaming himself again and found himself once again grateful that Katsuki had been lucky enough to find Eijiro. But then-

"I wish I could’ve met him.” 

If Izuku still had air in his lungs it would've been caught in that moment. 
From then on, everything changed. 

He clung to Aizawa, watching as the underground hero (who was married to Present Mic?! Who would've guessed! Not Izuku!) stubbornly dug more and more into the circumstances of his life. He was chilled with a hollow numbness as he watched Kaachan confront an oblivious All Might, with Eraserhead by his side. Because they were both right and wrong. Sure, All Might's words to him may have been the needle to prick him, but he was already bleeding to death from the thousands of cuts life had dealt him. His blood was splattered across society. Not a single person. He knew that better than anyone else. 

It seemed Kaachan knew that too. And Aizawa. 

But even as he watched the investigation progress. As he stood by Aizawa's desk, face somber as the man spoke to himself, to him, as he watched photage of what had happened to him and became angry in his defense. As he amusedly watched Kaachan and his friends try to piece together what Denki had described as "the raddest protest of all time," he still wasn't ready. 

He wasn't expecting this.

"WE WILL NOT BE SILENCED!"

Hundreds of people.

"WE WILL NOT IGNORED!"

Chanting in unison.

"WE WILL NOT BE ASHAMED!"

Red shoes on the feet of half the crowd, signs thrusted high in hands of everyone.
And Bakugou Katsuki stood in the front of it all — in front of the city hall — in a red shirt reading "Justice for Quirkless, with nothing but pure determination and fire in his eyes as he screamed into a UA megaphone. "WHAT DO WE WANT?!"

"JUSTICE!"

Izuku floated above it all in pure disbelief. He knew Kaachan had been planning this, but seeing it, watching it come fruition, for the first time in his undead life he felt tears roll down his cheeks.

In the crowd, he could see familiar faces. The bakusquad, proudly standing in a booth to the right of the platform that Katsuki was standing on — handing out water, signs, granola bars, and information pamphlets and getting signatures for something that Izuku hadn't been able to read yet. Along with the rest of Class 1A working other booths such as First Aid and education booth. 

He could spot Aizawa and Mic, in their civilian wear, standing hand in hand, as they screamed and shouted along side Bakugou.
He could see his mother standing front and center, wearing shirts with his face on it, crying, but being supported to stand with Masaru and Mitsuki on each of her arms. 

And then, as the chanting slowed down and the speeches and quirkless testimonies began, the crowd fell silent as a tall, blond, skeletal man came to the stage. Izuku's eyes widened and his throat tightened — feeling his life flash before his eyes once more — as All Might stood in a forest green shirt with his head held high. 

"Hello. My name is Yagi Toshinori, though most of you would know me by the name All Might," a murmur spread across the audience, and the news cameras that had arrived early on in the event quickly turned to zoom in. Izuku lowered onto the ground, instinctively bringing himself to his mother's side for comfort. Yagi took a deep, shaky breath before continuing, "And I was the number one hero. Someone who was meant to inspire and bring faith and hope into the lives of all I met. But I failed," the murmuring grew louder, but quickly shushed as he rose his hand. Not once did Yagi's expression leave the somber, regretful expression that weighed down his normally cheerful aura. "I was a hypocrite. I told the world that everyone could be a hero, but then when ... When I was asked by someone who was quirkless-" 

Izuku's eyes narrowed.

"someone who needed me more than I could've possibly comprehended-"

He balled his fists by his side.

"if he could be a hero even if he was quirkless-"

Izuku closed his eyes and attempted to hide his face against his mother, not wanting to hear those words again, but knowing that they were coming whether he liked it or not. 

"I told him no."

Izuku gritted his teeth, images of that rooftop and the sensation of the cold wind whipping against him hitting him all at once. He hated it. He hated it. He hated-

"I was wrong."

Green eyes snapped open and without even moving, Izuku found himself standing directly in front of All Might — his piercing, remorseful blue eyes staring straight into him. Izuku felt like the world had frozen still, but as though to assure him that it hadn't, Yagi continued to speak. "Izuku Midoriya was a brilliant young man with a heart of pure gold. He strove only to help others and saw light and goodness where others would only see hate. He had the heart of a true hero," Izuku could hear his tears splattering onto the concrete below him as he sobbed, horrible, wet, sobs that shook his body. "He could've been so much more. But I had allowed my own hurt and my own pain cloud me from seeing that, and to him, and to every quirkless person, I am sorry for becoming so blind that I would fail you. I did not say it then, but allow me to say it clearly and proudly now for all to know; Quirkless people can be heroes"

Izuku fell to his knees, he felt heavy and weightless all at once as he screamed and cried over the loud shouts coming from the audience. Pools of anger, of pride, of grief, of hurt, of hope poured from the audience like a wave and crashed directly into him, only acting to fuel his tears even more as his fingers dug against the hard ground beneath him.  

All Might moved in front of the podium, getting down on his own knees, and bowed lowly with his forehead touching the ground — unbeknownst to him, bowing directly to the boy he was the most sorry to. 

As he stood, Izuku lunged forward and instinctively reached for his arm, and he felt warmth. Blue eyes snapped down to green and widened. Izuku's lip wobbled as the chanting commenced once more. Not silenced. Not invisible. But seen. 
"Thank you," he croaked just before his hand fell through Yagi's once more and the now pale man stumbled back, blinking as he walked off the stage. 

Kaachan stood by the side of it, waiting. Izuku couldn't help but gain a watery smile as he rose to his own feet and approached him. In the blond's white-knuckled hands were smudged que-cards. If Izuku was being perfectly honest, he looked ready to puke. A swell of gratefulness for his friend and just how far he had come filled Izuku, along with a strange lightness. He gasped, as that warmth and light spread through him, and held Katsuki's shoulder. "It's time," he whispered - meaning it in so many more ways than he or the world could possibly comprehend. "Tell them, Kaachan. Tell them everything."

"I'll do this," Katsuki mumbled, making the light burn brighter inside Izuku's body. "For you. For everyone. I'm going to make you proud, Izuku."

Izuku felt his body begin to float against his will as Kaachan took the stage and smiled knowingly, peace finally sinking into his broken, tired bones as he laughed. "You already have."

A picture of Izuku blew up onto the screen behind Katsuki, and Izuku watched, willing himself to stay just a little while longer, even as he felt his finger as toes begin to fade away. Katsuki began to speak. 

"Midoriya Izuku was a quirkless boy abused by society. He was rejected and hurt by everyone when he had done nothing but show them kindness. He-" his voice cracked and he looked up, gasping as his eyes locked on Izuku. All Izuku could do was nod. Kaachan kept his eyes on him, nodding back in turn as he continued speaking. "He was my best friend, even though I never deserved him, and I will forever regret not realizing that before it was too late," he turned his focus back to the audience. Izuku grinned as he noticed how the boy held himself taller, with authority, looking ready to fight everyone and anyone. He had changed so much, but he was still his Kaachan.

He felt his legs and arms turn into mist.

"In recent months, an underground hero and the Musutafu City Police have conducted an investigation into the events surrounding the suicide of Izuku. What they found was him being beaten, verbally assaulted, alienated, and discriminated in every possible manner by nearly everyone in his life, including myself." Katsuki held his chin high, allowing the crowd to shout and cry out insults at him at the confession. He soaked in every last one without an ounce of fight - atoning for all he had done wrong - before leaning back in to the mic. "I am facing my punishment, and do so willingly. I have been since the day Izuku died. But there are others who haven't and won't," this seemed to make the crowd quiet once more, if only out of curiosity. "In the word of the law, quirkless people are not protected. They do not have rights. They are not considered human. They are rejected completely from our society, and as such, no crimes against them can stand in the court of law," Katsuki snarls as he speaks before raising his fist in the air. "But NO MORE! I am calling for the Supreme Court of Japan to enact new law that recognizes and protects the thousands of quirkless citizens that still live within it's country! Too many of you have died due to our societie's bullshit ignorance! Too many of you have faced cruel injustice just because of an extra toe joint! TODAY WE SAY ENOUGH!"

"ENOUGH!"

"Today we demand Justice!"

"JUSTICE!"

"Today we will let quirkless voices be heard so that they will not be silence any more!"

"QUIRKLESS NOT SILENCED!"

Kaachan grinned, sharp and wide and Izuku breathed a final breath as he felt the final parts of himself begin to fade, smiling widely in pure relief as he catches the final words of Katsuki's speech. "We have booths with petitions listed for these laws to be drafted, that we ask all of you to take part in. Today, we begin the process of drafting Bill-715, The Midoriya Bill, and allow Quirkless people to not just survive, but to actually fucking live! FOR IZUKU!!!"

As Katsuki finished, the audience filled with cheers.

Izuku beamed alongside the sun, casting light onto the event, knowing that maybe just maybe, life wouldn't be as disappointing and cruel as it was. He couldn't help but laugh at the knowledge, the noise being overshadowed by chants and cheers of victory as the soul of Midoriya Izuku finally passed on and the quirkless boy that changed a nation finally found peace.