Archive of Our Own ^beta

The room is just clean enough to be the setting of a B-list horror movie. It’s classier than Izuku would’ve expected from his captors. He half-expected to be duct-taped to a radiator in a condemned restaurant or something. At least, if he were to go by what Kacchan experienced last year with this particular group of psychos. 

The League of Villains wasn’t exactly the most creative. 

They were sneaky. Izuku still didn’t know where the blow that knocked him out came from. He'd been walking back from visiting his mother, catching up and helping her around the house like the good son he tried to be. At least to make up for some of the stress of the past few years. Maybe even longer than that. 

He was on his way to the cat cafe near the school to meet Shouto and Hitoshi for their usual weekend date but, like a stupid rookie, he hadn’t paid attention to his surroundings enough while he was taking pictures of an alley cat he thought the others would enjoy. A split second of feeling another presence nearby and wham. Darkness. 

Not that the windowless room he woke up in is any brighter. A small blessing for his splitting headache. Based on previous experience and extensive, extensive first aid lectures from Recovery Girl, he most likely has a concussion. No broken bones--another point for his ongoing record, take that, Ochako --but maybe having potential brain damage shouldn’t be celebrated. 

Meh. 

The only reason he even knows this was the handiwork of the League and not one of the other groups currently gunning for him is seeing that Mr. Compress guy when he first opened his eyes. The masked drama queen simply stared at him for several long seconds, grinning while Izuku squinted and tried to comprehend the difference between “up” and “down.” Surprisingly, the marble quirk user didn’t say anything before leaving, just gave a mocking bow and left through the reinforced door. Izuku’s been left with his muddled thoughts ever since, which isn’t the most pleasant of company but beggars can’t be choosers. 

At least he knows his boyfriends will be looking for him. The most obvious reason being that they had standing plans. And that they are well-aware of Izuku’s penchant for attracting trouble. Hitoshi calls it his second quirk, which, kind of ironic in his opinion. The less obvious reason for knowing in his bones that the other boys are sounding the alarm is because of how freakily in sync they are for sensing when Izuku is injured or in danger. Shouto once burst into his dorm room because he “just knew Izuku needed him.” He’d had a papercut. 

Still, he won’t deny it's incredibly romantic. He likes to think he’s just as attentive when Hitoshi or Shouto need help but statistically speaking, the two are far less likely to end up in these kinds of situations. Still, Izuku enjoys returning the favor of making his boyfriends blush and/or swoon, no matter how sarcastic the swoon is, thank you Hitoshi. 

He winces as another spike of pain hits. He huffs and rattles the quirk-suppressant cuffs tying him to the metal chair. Izuku would give anything to be able to rub his forehead right now. Even his signed first edition comic of All Might versus Tropica, and he had that shit in a safe. His vision isn’t marred by blood but the fuzziness in the corner of his eyes isn’t confidence-inspiring. 

The question then remains: what to do? 

He’s injured--not drastically so, but restrictive enough to be a problem in a fight. He’s not sure of the League’s numbers or manpower. No one’s seen hide or hair of Shigaraki since Kamino, leaving him with almost a year and a half of blissfully League-free downtime. Izuku’s spotted Toga, Twice, and even Dabi during a few villain fights or yet another yakuza takedown, but they’ve always gotten away. Which was actually pretty impressive considering Kurogiri is still locked up tight in Tartarus. So logically the League has a means of transportation, one he’s not familiar with. 

They attacked him in broad daylight. He doesn’t know where he is. One for All is cut-off with the quirk suppressants and honestly, the cuffs are starting to chafe. Does not improve his mood, let him just say. He’s at a severe disadvantage here. 

But, again, would he have to fight? He trusts that his boyfriends would notice something was wrong when he was late, not that Izuku can tell how long he’s been gone. The downsides of hating wearing a watch. So if two of the best fighters in their grade--hell, maybe even the school--were on the hunt to rescue him? He knows he’ll be found sooner rather than later. 

Positivity was an old friend for him. Staying positive and leading with a smile got him through some tough times when he was younger. But being positive and trusting that someone would care enough about him to try to save him? Still somewhat of a novel experience. Idly, he wonders who all would sneak away from the pro-heroes to try to save him. It’ll be intriguing to see his friends’ rescue training pay off from the perspective of the victim. 

Maybe he should be more concerned with his personal safety, but #YOLO, as Kaminari likes to say. He trusts in Hitoshi and Shouto. He trusts in his friends, his Dekusquad, and his teachers. Aizawa will be on a warpath when he gets the news, no doubt. A press conference isn’t going to be able to stop him from enacting revenge on Shigaraki this time. Izuku bets it’ll be badass. 

He giggles, imagining the smackdown that’ll happen now that his teacher would have knowledge and backup against the crusty villain. USJ Round Two; Izuku would place money on Aizawa for sure. His head lolls to the side and he tries to breathe deeply to stop the nausea that rolls through him from his laughter. 

Ow. He has a high pain tolerance but seriously. Head injuries were the worst. 

With his mood steadily declining and the probability of throwing up in his mouth rapidly increasing, he sent a prayer out to whatever weird Izuku-sense his boyfriends had so they’d find him faster. He wants cuddles, a cool compress for his head, and maybe some of those cherry-flavored digestive tablets. His therapist would most likely have a field day over his current mental state of “fuck it” but he’s grouchy, okay? He may have stayed up too late on the hero forums debating the best hero duo team-ups and he may have decided to push through his exhaustion in order to spend time with his mom and his boyfriends. Izuku just wants a nap but he can already hear a chorus of voices saying “don’t fall asleep, idiot.” 

And Dr. Masumi isn’t even here to witness his apathy, so there. 

Hmmm, maybe apathetic isn’t the best descriptor. He has faith that heroes will find him. He has faith that eventually, if need be, he can push himself Plus Ultra and fight his way out...just, maybe, not at that exact second. A distant sense of panic is pushed aside in favor of focusing on his head injury and steadying his breathing. Izuku understands he’s technically up shit creek at the moment, but for some reason, he’s confident that the League will provide him a boat and a paddle whether they want to or not. 

They’d taken him for a reason. They’re going to either hold him for ransom, try to recruit him a la Kacchan, or kill him. Does he want to die? No. He has a lot to live for now. Sure, knowing how unstable Shigaraki is, there might be horrific torture in his immediate future but maybe if he asks nicely he’ll have someone rub his forehead for a few seconds before? Oh, or maybe they could scratch his nose. It’s also starting to itch. The true torture. 

Besides, maybe he could continue his streak of being positive in the face of imminent doom and use this as a learning opportunity? (Could he imagine the groans of his friends at that comment? Yes. Will he change his mind? To be seen.) 

His personal lessons with Nedzu push him to his mental extremes. Ever since he agreed to be mentored by the principal after that first meeting with his analysis notebooks, he’d learned so much--to Aizawa’s obvious regret. The more explosive lessons round out his knowledge about commercial building integrity, chemical warfare, and destabilizing military commands. But the best lessons focus on picking apart quirks, strategizing, and psychological manipulation. Izuku never knew just how adept he could be at tearing down someone’s entire character until Nedzu had him interview several villains with the goal of pulling answers from them through unconventional means. A few were taken away in tears; Izuku still stuns himself over that. 

Hitoshi just says he’s a savage little gremlin when properly motivated. Shouto calls him chaos incarnate “but really cute about it.” At least they’re fond when they’re roasting him. He can truly feel the love. 

Not that they’ve said the big L-word yet. He knows he’s blushing at the thought, he can feel his face heat up in the dank basement sadness-room. Thank god no one’s around to witness him blushing to himself while thinking about emotions. 

Because he has them. A lot of them. For both of the boys in his heart. If you had told Izuku six months ago that his two closest friends would regularly kiss him on the face, he’d have a heart attack. The first couple of months after his Experience™ (as Mina started calling it to everyone who would listen), he could always find Shouto or Hitoshi beside him. More often than not, the three would spend time together training, watching movies, or keeping each other company on sleepless nights. Shouto and Hitoshi grew closer and Izuku was happy that the two socially distant boys could find friendship in each other, even if it seemed he was missing out on some weird inside joke. But having both of them in close quarters more often meant that he’d had to confront some personal truths. Of the romantic variation. Which never works out well for a worrywart like Izuku, if he’s honest. He spent too many nights just panicking about potentially ruining not just one close friendship, but two. He really does go Plus Ultra. 

He hadn’t noticed at the time just how out of sorts Hitoshi and Shouto were also getting but he’d heard stories afterward. Hitoshi had cautiously confided in Tokoyami and Shouji (and wasn’t that an interesting friend group to witness destroy everyone at Scrabble). Luckily both boys were the least judgemental and let Hitoshi rant about “too much energy” and “not paid enough for this.” Shouto had almost burst down Yaomomo’s door in the middle of the night with the non-sequitur of “what if it’s like my quirk split my heart down the middle and now each side of me likes one of them? Is that how it works? Momo, it’s me, why are you screaming?” 

Apparently, their friends bet on when someone would make a move and how. Tsuyu won, the absolute traitor. 

Regardless, after a very awkward three-way date that none of them originally realized was a date, Shouto had turned to Hitoshi and said, “I don’t want to be rivals anymore,” before grabbing both the taller and shorter boys and crushing them to his chest in a weirdly intense hug. Hitoshi had blinked, startled, before melting into Shouto’s warm left side and just sighing in defeat. He’d turned to Izuku with his face an inch away and softly smiled. Izuku gets butterflies just remembering the look on both of the boys’ faces when they finally pulled apart and walked through the park, holding hands and actually using their rusty communication skills.

Not to mention the gentle goodnight kisses when they returned to the dorms, Hitoshi blushing like crazy and Shouto awestruck and steaming. Izuku may have also been bright red but--

The metal door creaking open stops his reminiscing. Ugh. Rude and cliche to boot. 

It’s Compress again. He slinks into the room and pauses like the main character in an anime. The masked man scans over Izuku’s hunched form and smiles, almost kindly. If it wasn’t for the mockery in his eyes. Not like Izuku hasn’t seen that look before, from a variety of people. 

“Our esteemed leader will be down shortly to speak with you.” 

Izuku can’t stop himself. He snorts. Esteemed. 

Steamed, more like. 

Though Shigaraki would have to be more hydrated for that. 

Compress’ mask shifts, almost like he’s raising an eyebrow but it’d be more effective if he wasn’t wearing the world’s worst combination of ski mask and top hat. How was his head not sweaty? 

He’s squinting at the villain’s hat in contemplation and trying to distract from his blinding headache. He’s tactfully ignoring anything Compress says or does. Does he care if Shigaraki is on the way? 

Well, like he was trying to plan before he was distracted by thoughts of his boyfriends: he can use this as a learning opportunity, Nedzu-style. Here he was, defenseless. And underestimated. People see the lightning, the super punches; they rarely see the tactician. Nedzu’s M.O. was to be secretive and small, but also the smartest in the room even if his opponents never knew he was there. He could adopt the same kind of mindset here, couldn’t he? Be the smartest in the room without his enemies any wiser. He’d learn more about the League and what they’ve been up to since Izuku last saw them. Figure out their weakness and breaking points until he knew all of their secrets. 

Hm. Maybe Aizawa was right. Maybe learning from Nedzu was a bit like going to the dark side. Nothing to do about it at this moment though.

Also, he had to pass the time somehow until The Reckoning that was his friends and teachers arrived. 

What would be the best way? He’s thinking not-so-clearly, just distracted enough by his pain to not be at hundred percent. He’s not as sharp as Nedzu, even without the concussion. Said injury means he’s not up to Aizawa-levels of perception either. All Might would just smash. He loves the man like family, and reasonably he understands Toshinori’s battle sense and tactical thinking. You didn’t take down All for One’s operations with only a handful of heroes by being dumb. But Izuku is currently smash-less. Without the inspiration of his mentors and role models, he goes with the tried and true method of emulating his other favorite people. 

WWSHD = What Would Shinsou Hitoshi Do? 

Sass. Sass, sass, sass. Then again, he did so in order to elicit a response from his opponents for his quirk. Izuku is going to do it because it’s his best option. And maybe because he’s curious as to how far he could go against this so-called league. He can already feel his internal filter slowly slipping away as the room sways before his eyes. 

WWTSD = What Would Todoroki Shouto Do? 

Be direct. Be blunt. Take zero shit without the shit-stirrer realizing. A specialty of Shouto’s as he was the master of back-talking Endeavor without earning punishments from the bastard pro hero. Make them question just who is in control. 

“Hey,” he rasps. Compress doesn’t jump, but he does tense when Izuku finally makes a noise. Izuku raises an eyebrow. “Do you have any water?” 

“Making demands, are we?” Compress casually folds his arms over his chest. He’s still reclining against the wall and Izuku wonders just why he’s hanging out in the room. Surveillance of their captive? Boredom? Maybe he thought he could camp out in this knock-off dungeon to escape the craziness that is no doubt Toga and Shigaraki combined. He kind of feels bad for Compress just thinking about it, but then again, no he doesn’t. 

“Pretty sure I asked a question instead of demanding, but I don’t know how much social interaction you’ve been having recently so we’ll let it slide.” 

“Excuse me?” The villain’s arms unfolded, eyes narrowed. “That’s quite a lot of talk for someone at our mercy.” 

“You’re excused,” is his habitual reply. He’s heard Hitoshi say that response often enough to other students when they tried to intimidate him that he can’t not repeat it. His habit of mimicking people is a blessing and a curse. 

“You’ve got guts,” Compress starts. His eyes narrow, displeased. Izuku watches the man fiddle with something in his pocket, most likely one of his marbles. A nervous tic? Was he planning on putting Izuku in time-out? 

“Hey, actually, I have a serious question.” He stares imploringly at the man standing before him. He tries to imbue as much “innocent little hero student” in his behavior as possible. Compress blinks at the sudden switch but nods just once. 

“Were you ever a magician?” 

Compress’ head jerks to the side, hands clenching in his pockets. “...I was. How did you figure?” 

Izuku tries not to roll his eyes. Gee, how could he have guessed. 

“Well your style is heavily influenced by showman chic and I remember you acting like your kidnapping attempt of my classmates was just a performance. Plus the stereotypical tophat and coat-tails. I’m guessing your quirk was very good for making things disappear and reappear. Did you do any tricks besides that? Like that one levitating card trick? Oh, maybe those connecting metal rings, that’s a classic.” 

The man just stares in response to Izuku’s rambling. Good.  

“You can obviously transport both living and inorganic material. Are you able to partially marble objects? Is there an adjustable radius? Like a perfect circle out of a piece of paper? That’d be a pretty cool magic trick if you were able to disappear pieces of something.”

“I’ll be disappearing you if you’re not quiet,” Compress says. He appears calm. Izuku wonders how unflappable this man truly is, what with the clench visible in the villain’s jaw. Minor annoyances may seem insignificant, but building them up and acting out-of-character for the situation would make Compress unsettled. And hopefully sloppy. 

“If I had water, I’d shut up,” he cheerfully points out. “Though it makes sense you wouldn’t want to talk about your past, since it obviously hasn’t gone well if you’re here. Magicians were popular a long time ago but quirks have made everyone a skeptic. A failed performer career is a good enough reason to be desperate and turn to crime. Let me guess: burglary? Hired kidnapping?” 

“You don’t know anything.” 

They watch each other in silence. Well, Izuku’s eye is involuntarily twitching so he’d lose a staring contest but he doesn’t look away from the villain in front of him. He should probably be reassuring himself to show no fear but Compress is the least terrifying out of the villains even if he does appear to be the most level-headed. 

Izuku notes the click of the door’s lock before he can reopen his still dry mouth. Compress straightens and glances over. The door slams open to reveal one crusty young man. 

Ah, yes. His “archenemy” has arrived. 

“Look who we have here,” Shigaraki says as he slinks into the room. He’s not hunching his shoulders as he used to and he’s not wearing his hand fetish mask, thank the gods. “A little helpless hero.”

The villain stands right before Izuku and smirks down at the captive. Izuku glances over his clothes: a little tattered but clean. A couple of new scars on the man’s face if he’s recalling correctly. Still that manic gleam in his red eyes, tinged with obvious satisfaction. No doubt the man is pleased to have captured his self-appointed enemy.

“I’m thirsty,” Izuku states when Shigaraki leans in, no doubt to deliver some opening speech. He schools his face as pleasantly neutral as possible. Channel your inner Shouto. 

Shigaraki.exe has momentarily paused. Izuku holds back a snort. His non-sequitur doesn’t keep the villain for more than a second though as those hostile eyes narrow at him. 

“I don’t care,” the older boy grumbles. He rests his left hand over Izuku’s shoulder, pinky raised. At least it’s not the neck this time, he can’t help but think. 

“I just want to have another talk,” he continues. The grip on his shoulder is light. It’s not like Shigaraki needs to restrain him any further. 

It’s not like I have places to be or anything. 

“I could’ve just given you my chat name or something. This seems excessive,” Izuku comments. He meets Shigaraki’s eyes head-on. The villain is visibly confused about his reaction. If he was used to fear and panic in the face of his quirk or threatened bodily harm, he wouldn’t know how to deal with a nonchalant hostage. Shigaraki always seemed easily riled up. Their “conversation” at the mall was a one-sided rant from someone who didn’t know how to compartmentalize or reflect on their own actions. 

NPCs had standard dialogue. Deviations could throw the gameplay off. The plot could have a whole new direction. 

“You look like you could also use some water. Rough day?” Izuku uses his “soothing a victim” voice he’d mastered after the provisional license exam. Those paid actors had a bunch of interesting pointers. He imagines it’s like talking to Eri: be compassionate and patient. 

Shigaraki is wrong-footed enough by Izuku’s projected empathy to not notice the underhanded insult. Seriously, was he actually getting enough water? His lips were an unholy level of chapped and his skin was cracked around his jaw and under-eyes. A quirk like Decay meant exposure to a lot of dust particles at the least , nevermind what it potentially did to the young man’s body itself. Izuku would love to analyze the hell out of such a powerful quirk but he’s pretty sure Shigaraki wouldn’t be as informative as he’d prefer. 

“What is happening,” he hears the man mumble. A hand idly scratches at his jaw--no, don’t pick at that dead skin, arghhhhhh. Izuku finds himself almost offended on Shigaraki’s body’s behalf. If Izuku had to learn self-care the hard way, why couldn’t a villain with better resources? If Shigaraki was really being sponsored by the never-aging All for One, surely they had enough funds to help with the quirk backlash?

Some chapstick for starters. 

Then again, with All for One in Tartarus, maybe they were living rough. 

Still. Izuku’s tempted to offer the tube of lip balm in his own pocket. 

“Is this really the brat?” The head villain turns to look at the other man in the room. Compress still stands behind Shigaraki like the world’s weirdest voyeur. The hand on Izuku’s shoulder doesn’t leave. 

Compress bows his head. “Yes, though it appears he’s acting differently than what’s been reported.” 

“What the hell’s wrong with him?” Shigaraki asks Compress like Izuku isn’t literally right there. 

“Well, my head really hurts,” he says slowly. He punctuates his sentence with a lazy blink. 

Shigaraki scowls. 

“And…” Izuku trails off, suddenly serious. He narrows his eyes carefully and looks at though he’s about to reveal a great secret. The villain actually leans a bit towards him without realizing. 

“I need a glass of water.” 

“Shut up about the damn water.” 

Not surprisingly, Shigaraki has a short fuse. 

Unfortunately, with his current lacking brain-to-mouth filter combined with the master sass plan, Izuku’s bright idea is to deadpan at the supervillain and say, “make me.” 

He’s a damn idiot. 

Shigaraki takes the invitation like it was gold-plated and hand-delivered by All Might himself. His pinky makes contact with Izuku’s shirt and quickly makes short work of the fabric and a chunk of his skin. Shigaraki only holds his hands down for a couple of seconds but it’s enough to decay a large patch of his “Formal Wear Shirt” shirt and the top layer of his entire shoulder. The pain lances through the muscle but Izuku can already tell it’s not super deep.

Surprisingly not as bad as an explosion to the face or fracturing all of the bones in your arm twice over. Can’t even compare to using 100% of his quirk and having the damage instantly erased in an endless loop during the fight against Overhaul. 

Definitely worse than a paper cut though. 

Blood wells up on his shoulder as soon as Shigaraki’s hand breaks contact. Izuku’s eye is twitching even harder but he’s able to keep himself from screaming. Nedzu had walked him through the psychology of torture during one of their slower lessons and while it was technically smarter to scream or cry so your torturer wouldn’t try harder for a reaction, Izuku is petty. He’s not going to give Shigaraki any kind of satisfaction here.

The man also stopped before causing serious damage. Woozy, he adds another tally in the “needing him alive as a hostage” column. 

Shigaraki grins when he looks up. 

“You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to do that. I think we’ll get to know each other really well, wouldn’t you, Midoriya Izuku?” 

“Fun,” he forces out through gritted teeth. “Looking forward to it.” 

Yet another dissatisfying response for the villain, it seems. Shigaraki’s grin falters and his brow furrows. 

“That attitude of yours…” the man trails off into mumbles, expression dark. Izuku has no hope of following along even if he is the Master of Muttering. (Hagakure made him an award certificate and everything a few months ago. He thinks he’s being complimented?)

“Shigaraki,” says a voice from nowhere. Izuku tries to hide his flinch. It’s staticky and faint, meaning it must be a speaker, but it’s not loud enough to be inside the room. “We need you upstairs. No we don’t!” 

If he’s remembering correctly, he thinks the voice belongs to Twice. At least the contradictory statements are part of his character description. He’d first encountered the villain during the raid on Shie Hissaki but he’d never interacted with the duplicator much. Doesn’t mean he hasn’t seen the massive folders on Twice as well as the other League members. Nedzu likes to be thorough. 

Shigaraki leaves with only a scoff, which just solidifies how lacking he is in manners. Izuku turns to Compress who’s still standing there in silence. He huffs. 

“So what now? What master plan did you cook up that required kidnapping me?” 

“Toga-chan and Dabi were kind enough to bring you here after bumping into you,” Mr. Compress says. Izuku freezes. 

“You mean to tell me this wasn’t even planned?” His boyfriends will never let him live this down. Aizawa-sensei will follow through on his threat of putting Izuku in a plastic bubble. He’s too reliant on touch as a love language to survive a bubble. 

How in the world did he miss seeing Dabi? The man was certainly distinct in appearance. Izuku can’t believe he failed in noticing the scars and disaffected slouch. Not to mention the tattered trench coat. He knows he’s not qualified at all to be talking smack about fashion choices but at least he doesn’t choose to wear ripped up clothes. His clothes just have a tendency to become scraps at ten percent of his quirk. Izuku likes punk rock music as much as the next person (both pre-quirk era and new age, he’s developed an eclectic taste) but dear god the staples and obvious hair dye job is definitely eye-catching. 

Nedzu would be disappointed. 

Aw man. 

That feeling is worse than the handprint currently scarred into his shoulder. 

Mr. Compress must be tired of watching Izuku’s inner monologue play out because when he looks back up, he doesn’t see the villain. Hmm. Losing time and/or not noticing movement. Not good. But what can he do? He leans his head back as far as he can in the world’s most uncomfortable chair and wonders if one of the previous users had telepathy or a Bat Signal as a quirk. So far he’s managed Black Whip and Float, with high hopes for the remaining quirk surprises awaiting him. 

A distress beacon quirk sounds good right about now. 

When nothing happens after several long minutes of squeezing his eyes shut and trying to push, he remembers the quirk suppressant cuffs and sighs. He’d smack his forehead in annoyance but again, these damn quirk suppressant cuffs. He gives himself a second to grumble.

Dabi is his next visitor. He comes in to patch up the disintegration wound, surprising Izuku. Not the first person he’d have figured as the League’s medic. Though “medic” might be a generous term. The scarred man simply splashes some disinfectant on his exposed wound--which, fucking, ow--and tapes a large gauze bandage. 

The villain scowls the entire time. Not winning any bedside manner award. 

“Thanks,” Izuku still says. It’s not even all that sarcastic. After all, the League didn’t need to provide first aid especially as the party responsible for the wound. And Midoriya Inko didn’t raise her son to not be polite to people helping him, even if it’s minor.

“Whatever, hero,” Dabi spits. 

There’s something about the way Dabi says hero that’s different. Shigaraki hisses the word like it’s the name of a dirty insect but the man’s got some screws loose and Izuku can’t really tell if the villain actually hates heroes or not. Based on what he theorized with All Might and Nedzu after Kamino Ward, it’s a serious case of child grooming. 

Dabi? There’s disgust, there’s anger--but then there’s the sheer loathing. 

“Hey,” Izuku breaks the long silence that follows his pondering. “Why do you hate heroes?” 

There’s no blame in his question. He keeps his expression controlled, portraying only curiosity. 

He can’t help but wonder now that he’s actually fought villains. What are their motivations? Why do they resort to crime? He’s loved heroes his whole life but he’s not naive enough to think that everything in the world is perfect. There’s no black and white. Fighting Gentle Criminal and La Brava during the school festival brought that feeling back to him. He wants to save as many people as possible, even those who might’ve lost their way, but to do so means he can’t just blindly follow the same steps as his predecessors. 

If he can know and understand , he can get to work. 

Empathy is both a strength and weakness, he guesses. Nedzu finds it endearing. 

Like any good villain, Dabi doesn’t turn down the opportunity to monologue. 

“The hero system is corrupt.” He shoves his hands into his pockets, leaning across the same wall Compress had. “Only true heroes should be allowed to live but most only care about fame or money.” 

The man continues to spit venom against “fake heroes” who abuse their power and authority to become corrupt celebrities. Izuku raises his brow in confusion as it goes on. This sounds pretty familiar. Then it clicks. 

“Oh my dear sweet god, what is everyone’s obsession with Stain?” He blurts without thinking. Izuku will most definitely not mention how he was one of the people to take down the murderer. Kaminari at least meant well...he thinks. Violent criminals idolizing the messed-up vigilante only spells trouble. Wait, does this technically make Dabi an All Might fanboy too? 

Dabi snarls and pushes off of the wall, stalking closer. 

“He was the only one who had the right idea. Heroes like Endeavor should die.” Dabi’s hands smoke but his eyes burn even brighter. 

“...I mean, we’re working on it, but we don’t really get many breaks outside of training.”

“What?” The villain startles at Izuku’s sudden comment. 

“Oh, yeah, we have a plan to take care of it but our work studies keep getting in the way. We need at least three days off-campus to take him out but the curriculum and patrol schedules make it tough,” he continues, half-rambling and blinking sudden lights out of his eyes. “Honestly, Shouto and I will probably be able to have more time during the summer break but this was a long-term plan anyway, so.” 

“You? And Shouto? ” Wow, that was a rude way to say his boyfriend’s name. 

“Oh, and Hitoshi, he demanded to be a part of it too but he has more leeway in personal time as one of the “least chaotic” of us. Whatever, Aizawa-sensei is just playing favorites.” 

“Endeavor’s masterpiece...wants to kill him?” Dabi’s disbelief is almost palpable. 

Izuku squints and tries to analyze the man before him. It’s fair to doubt that a son would attempt to end his father but then again, it’s Endeavor. It’s weird that he knows the masterpiece phrase though... Izuku thinks. Endeavor must’ve been shouting it all over the place. Gross. 

Wait a second. He narrows in on Dabi’s doubtful eyes. Why does he know that shade of blue? Even with quirks changing genetic makeup and appearances, blue eyes were still uncommon in Japan. Pieces slowly click together. The eyes, the fire quirk, the sheer hatred of Endeavor. A story half-stumbled through during a late-night with Shouto and Hitoshi about a dead sibling. Not to mention the cheekbones that were hiding beneath those burn scars. 

Holy shit. 

Did Izuku just stumble upon a Todoroki-level conspiracy... about the Todorokis? 

Does he mention this to his boyfriend? Would it be ethical to brag about figuring it out first? It wouldn’t be all that nice to boast about discovering someone else’s trauma. But that doesn’t mean he wouldn’t let Shouto come to terms with his not-so-dead brother being a villain first before cracking jokes.

Consider it some payback for the secret love child quips. 

He adores Shouto but that doesn't mean he can’t be a little petty. 

But this is a new and interesting connection that he can’t help but need to scrutinize further. 

“Well,” he replies to Dabi’s incredulous question, drawing out the word, “at first it was just kind of a joke we were making? But then we had a bunch of plans and it all seemed so doable . Plus, the bitch started causing even more trouble for Shouto and his siblings. Fuyumi called him crying a few months ago and now all bets are off. We just need the timing to be perfect.” 

He watches Dabi carefully when he mentions his sister’s name. The man’s eyes shift away but no other visible reaction. Hm. Was Dabi close with his siblings? From what he can vaguely recall from Shouto, he was the oldest and didn’t interact as much with the younger boy. Maybe he was also isolated like Shouto during his training. A spark of sympathy wells up in his chest. Another arrow to fire at Endeavor; he’s lucky Izuku hasn’t personally met with him since the sports festival. A Detroit Smash to that ugly beard would be so satisfying. 

He tries to remember Dabi’s birth name. He’s usually very good at remembering details but Shouto’s confession was during one of their late-night study sessions/mental breakdowns. Touma? Touji? Izuku wracks his brain. 

Then, Dabi opens his mouth again with frenzied anger.

“He won’t be doing anything. Endeavor’s precious masterpiece is going to roast alongside him.” 

What the fuck?

“What the fuck?” 

That fledgling spark of sympathy? It immediately dies. 

Izuku will always react to his loved ones being threatened. He will always do anything to protect them. His anger swells. 

“You’d kill an abuse victim just because you hate his abuser?” 

You’d kill your own brother? 

He wants more information before revealing he knows the criminal’s identity. Especially if he’s going to be specifically targeting his boyfriend. Attacking their class as a whole has become routine enough that they all are prepared. At this point, their class group chat has a tally and “best of” fight highlights. As a group, they’re stronger. But if someone starts targeting an individual? It makes Izuku extremely nervous. He knows just how easy it would be to ambush a lone student, no matter how strong they are. 

Yes, he’s self-aware enough to see the irony here. 

“Isn’t he the precious son? He’s exactly what Endeavor wanted. Imagine the bastard’s face when his masterpiece dies.” 

He’d question just how subtle Dabi was about being the missing Todoroki if he knows all of these keywords of Endeavor’s awfulness but then he remembers the multiple instances of the man regarding Shouto as his “masterpiece” during interviews. The hero came up to Izuku during the sports festival, for god’s sake. It’s not exactly a secret how Enji views Shouto. 

The fact that Dabi bought into this nonsense only pisses Izuku off. 

“What is wrong with you,” he starts, tone low. “Do you think Shouto wanted to be a masterpiece and not, you know, a person?   With his own goals and dreams?!”

Yelling aggravates his head but he can't stop. 

“He became a hero. Just like Endeavor wanted,” Dabi sneers. Izuku strains to catch the note of...jealousy? “A perfect little tool to surpass All Might. Of course, he’s the masterpiece.” 

Izuku scoffs.

“Because he decided for himself he wanted to be a hero. He and I had a whole fight about it. Literally. On live television.” 

Which Shouto viewed as romantic, for some reason. That confession confused the hell out of both him and Hitoshi but then the purple-haired boy had gone quiet and thoughtful then vaguely mentioned something about their own sports festival fight with a wistful expression. Izuku doesn’t understand his boyfriends sometimes. 

“Brainwashed like the rest of you. You think if you hold hands and wish really hard things will get better? He’ll only become another fake hero. If he really wanted Endeavor dead, he wouldn’t be following his orders.” Dabi’s looming over him, upset. 

“Oh no, he’s definitely not listening to that piece of shit. There are no orders. Shouto has used him a few times for training his fire but we have way more qualified teachers at U.A. for that.” 

Hitoshi has even taken it upon himself to screen Shouto’s calls more recently. His deadpan humor and acting skills crack his boyfriends up and enrage Endeavor with his misdirection. 

They’re all in sync when it comes to pushing away Shouto’s sperm donor. The Dekusquad don’t know all of the details but they also volunteer to be on Endeavor watch--giving excuses about Shouto’s whereabouts, changing the news channel, helping Shouto dodge the hero when he tried to visit U.A. 

Even Aizawa has waved the pro-hero away, citing his visit as a disturbance to their classes. Izuku only knows because Nedzu lets him have access to all of the security cameras. He hasn’t discussed it with his teacher or Shouto yet, not sure how to foster that conversation. But there’s time, and he trusts Aizawa. 

“I will kill that man with my own hands,” Dabi swears, cutting into Izuku’s thoughts. Oh, right. Him.  

“So why haven’t you already?” Izuku rages on. He strains against the metal chair and quirk suppressant cuffs.

”I--”

”What’s your plan? Wait until he’s alone? There’s been plenty of times. He patrols alone. Are you trying to fight him using a fire quirk? You can just use a hose and a gun, it wouldn’t be that hard. Are you trying to get away with it or do you want the world to know? That’s the biggest problem we’re having right now because we don’t want suspicion to come back to his kids or Rei-san.” 

Dabi’s eye twitches at the mention of his mother. Or maybe at the sheer onslaught of rapid questions. It’s a toss-up. 

“So it begs the question if you’ve had all this free time and all of this hatred, why haven't you taken matters into your own hands? There’s a lot of people who’d support you.” Natsuo would bring a fucking baseball bat and have zero regrets. Fuyumi is squeamish about blood but she’d help hide the body if they called her. Rei honestly terrifies him a little bit, but in a good way. 

Not to mention the sheer amount of criminals (and even heroes) who’d want a chance at the flaming trash can. 

Izuku would bet money there’s trauma and fear involved. Or maybe Dabi just wants to make as dramatic a showdown as possible. A fight to the death, some grand reveal; he even seems like the type to laugh and dance during all of it. But he’s more sure about the mental blocks the man has about attacking Endeavor. And suddenly he knows much more about this dead son of Todoroki Enij because he’s been there. It’s difficult to stand up to the person who’s pushed you down for years. 

That won’t help in this situation though. 

“If anything, you should support Shouto . Shouldn’t you, Touya?”  

In a second, Dabi’s fire is startlingly close to his face. It’s only through years of what he now calls training (and Shinsou labeled “harassment,” but tomato, toh-mah-to) that he doesn’t flinch. 

“Shut up. Shut up ,” he hisses, panicked. “He did this to me. He forced me to become this.” Dabi drags fingers against his own cheek, catching on a staple and almost making Izuku wince.  

And that’s all the more horrifying to think about, how Endeavor may have brutally burnt his own son. Though based on Dabi’s extremely hot fire quirk and what Izuku knows about his boyfriend’s brutal past training sessions, there could have been a mishap. He’s not putting it past the douchebag hero though, especially with his track record of severely maiming villains. 

But still. A point has to be made here. 

“You’re not the only one with scars. You’re not special.” 

He can’t help but think of his own body. Most of the scars are from his own training and encounters with villains, but there are older ones from his own tumultuous relationships. Even when he and Kacchan were friends back in the day, he’d gotten a scar from a quirk accident. It’s small, he doesn’t even notice it beneath the other faded injuries, but there’s enough that he can easily recall the feeling of burnt flesh. As they got older, he hadn’t been burnt as often, Kacchan controlling his quirk better against people to avoid trouble, but the evidence still remains.

And even then, it’s not just him who bears scars from their struggles. 

Aizawa-sensei’s arms. Nedzu’s eye. All Might’s stomach. Tenya’s shoulder from Stain, Ochako’s fingers from endless training, Tsuyu’s leg from her work-study. The faint scars near Hitoshi’s ears from a muzzle some schoolyard bullies forced on him. 

Shouto’s burn on his face. And the ones he hides on his body, from “training.” 

“What he did to you is unforgivable,” he says. He can’t see the flicker of green light sparking in his own eyes, but Dabi does and clenches his hand in alarm. “But he’s hurt more than just you. He’s hurt the people who’d call you their family. But you’ll destroy how many people without caring? You’ll hurt your own flesh and blood to take down the number one hero?” 

Izuku scoffs, even as smoke blurs his eyes and deepens his headache. 

“Congratulations, you’ve become your father.” 

The fire immediately dies out, Dabi flinching away violently. Izuku’s half-surprised he wasn’t being roasted alive out of anger. He soldiers on.  

“So instead of throwing a hissy fit over Shouto, you can either nut up or shut up. I don’t really care either way. If you weren’t so short-sighted, I’d maybe even ask you to help us. We’ll be brothers-in-law in a few years anyway,” he trails off on the last sentence, blushing at the thought. He slowly shakes his head to clear it. Yes, Shouto had technically already proposed but that’s going to need to wait until all three of them are out of school at least. 

“Anyway,” he repeats the word with different inflection and tries to force his blush down. “Do better and stay away from Shouto.” 

The man’s mouth hangs open. It’s almost the same look Shouto makes when he’s been blindsided by a new revelation or Hitoshi’s sleep-deprived theories. Minus the psychosis and panic, which really makes it all the more unattractive. Dabi and Shouto share the exact same cheekbones and curve of their lip, and while usually, Izuku would be dazzled by a pretty face no matter the scarring--especially a Todoroki sibling because he has met both Fuyumi and Natsuo and wow --the whole “murder the little brother out of misguided jealousy” is an instant turn-off. Not hot at all. 

Get it? Hot? He giggles to himself at his own mental pun as the villain grows even more bewildered. When it looks like the startled criminal won’t say anything else or try to retaliate, Izuku takes a deep breath to steady himself and sighs.

“Good talk.” 

The villain stands unmoving, hands twitching. Izuku tilts his head. 

“Unless you also want to trauma dump on me some more. I hear it's great therapy. Maybe we should discuss your mother?” 

Dabi almost flies out of the room. 

He’s alone once more. 

What a mess. His shoulder stings. No doubt it should hurt far worse, but he’s distracted by the new pounding in his head and can easily push aside the burn. Would a decayed body part be classified as a burn medically? Necrosis? He makes a mental note to look into it once he’s back at the dorms, whenever the hell that might be. 

Izuku is humming old anime openings to keep himself awake when the door opens once more. 

“Have you stopped glitching?” Shigaraki stalks in, shoulders hunched more than before. He’s dragging a folding chair in behind him, pinky raised. 

Izuku silently watches him set up the chair right in front. Shigaraki sprawls once he’s sitting, feet kicked out lazily. His eyes dart to Izuku’s destroyed shirt with a sinister glee but he gives nothing away with the rest of his expression. 

He holds the silence for several long seconds. Is Izuku supposed to speak first?” 

“Uh, welcome--” he tries. 

“I heard what you were saying. You’re not going to kill a hero.” 

There’s two ways he could play this. Shigaraki just revealed he’s being monitored which, okay, fair enough. Maybe his kidnappers weren’t completely ignorant. So he can’t play that conversation off as Shigaraki misunderstanding. Izuku was...fairly direct. But he could act confused and pitiful, maybe tease the villain and run him in circles about “Shigaraki saying he’s not allowed to kill Endeavor, what a hypocrite,” maybe some good old-fashioned gas-lighting, but. Eh. 

“No, I’m going to,” he calmly states. 

“You? A precious little do-gooder? You’re not able to murder anyone.” 

Well, that was why they had intermediaries and it all would technically amount to an “accident,” but whatever. 

“You’re blinded by morals imposed on you by idiots like All Might. You don’t know what it means to truly kill.” 

What was that one pre-quirk movie with the antagonist who turned half the universe to dust? He remembers hearing Sero and Kirishima gush about it but he had volunteered to babysit Eri during class movie night when they watched it so he joined in late. 

“But I guess in reality, all heroes do is kill. True values, freedom, power. They can merc any criminal on the street with only a slap of the wrist. Anyone who disagrees with their shallow rules is taken away. Ha. Heroes are worthless scum .” 

Giant man, deluded, something about creating enough resources by removing the people using them. A dynamic between supply and demand. Though he thinks he remembers the villain having an ability like Yaoyorozu where he could’ve just made more resources. 

“Once we destroy the heroes, people will be free. We will destroy the symbols they don’t even realize are shackles.” 

Basically, the big bad supervillain with narrow-minded views and fueled by spite. The one who wants to destroy everything without thinking of any consequences or doing anything productive. That was who Shigaraki reminded him of. Not with all-consuming power, of course. Shigaraki’s quirk was incredibly strong but what could he do against disabling his hands? Just breaking a finger would theoretically be enough. 

“That’s why we’re here. The League exists for the creation of the new world. One where being a hero won’t matter because there won’t be any .” 

What a fucking hypocrite. 

Based on Shigaraki’s enraged snarl, he might have said that out loud. Oops. 

“What did you just say?!” 

Well, can’t back out now, Izuku thinks. 

“I called you a hypocrite?” He shrugs his uninjured shoulder. “Just, it’s a bit ironic that you’re talking about saving people from the heroes.” 

The villain scratches his neck violently for a few seconds before visibly forcing himself to stop. Izuku can’t stop his minor flinch when Shigaraki abruptly leans into his personal space. 

“You can’t call me a hypocrite, brat. You’re the one trying to save people with violence. Conscripting children into soldiers for their government’s agenda.” 

Oh, big words coming from the NEET. 

“Look, I’m not saying that society doesn’t need to change,” and boy does he feel like he’s back on the online forums, “but you don’t want to actually change society. You just want to destroy it.” 

“We’re bringing change by tearing down the system.” And weirdly, Shigaraki sounds almost flat as he says that, like he’s repeated it a thousand times. 

“You can’t change something if it’s destroyed,” Izuku cheerfully points out. His upbeat manner brings back the fervor in the villain’s eyes. 

“Anyone knows you have to break down the walls to get into the castle,” the gamer otaku points out.  “You can just rebuild them once you’re king. Just level--” 

“Can you un-decay stuff? No?” Izuku interrupts before Shigaraki can continue on a tangent. It’s worth the risk of potential harm if just because he physically cannot follow along with game talk right now. He’s played some online and he loves the little farming games. Stardew Valley released their fifteenth version a year ago and he is all about his strawberry plants right now. 

But he’s a self-described “casual gamer” and listening to any more metaphors will destroy his remaining will to not pass out. 

“A few deaths for the greater good. According to my sources, you’re something of a smart kid. So you know war is inevitable. Why not sacrifice a few to save everyone?” Shigaraki says and waves his hands around with surprising grace. The grand gestures are at odds with the shaggy clothes and appearance. 

“So you’re volunteering? Good to know.” 

“What--” 

“Thank you for your noble sacrifice. The world will be better.” 

“That’s not what I meant.” Shigaraki’s hand darts to the back of Izuku’s neck, pinky raised. 

“But it’s also a solution.” He hates these kinds of discussions. Yes, if you only had two options, of course you want to save more people, but purposefully killing off others to benefit mankind never sat well with him. Everyone has bias. Who’s to say that the sacrificed group of people weren’t chosen because of prejudice? What if their death was in vain? People who talk about “lowering population numbers” or “someone has to be killed” never consider other perspectives. 

“Why shouldn’t you be the one sacrificed? I’m sure the people you’ve murdered would agree.” He keeps his voice low and even. He knows he shouldn’t be provoking the angry psychopath with his life in his hands but if Shigaraki gets to monologue, why can’t he? 

“I’m not naive enough to believe this world wasn’t built on blood. There’s prejudice everywhere, it just shifts focus every few decades. The rise of quirks started horrifying wars. Race, religion, and gender have all been persecuted. They still are in a lot of places. There’s been so much bloodshed and sometimes you have to fight to make anything better. But will killing people get you what you want? Or just get you more resentment and fear?” 

He forces himself to relax his shoulders and stare down the living weapon before him. 

“What do you really want, Shigaraki?”

With how the villain slightly flinches back, Izuku wonders if anyone has asked him that question before. All Might sat him down after Kamino and told him Shigaraki’s true identity. How long had the boy been under All for One’s control? Young kids are extremely impressionable. Look at Kacchan and his other middle school classmates. Sure, they were absolute assholes, but if the adults didn’t let them get away with their torment, Izuku would’ve had a very different experience. 

If Shigaraki’s only guidance was the egomaniac supervillain, his warped personality makes sense. 

The silent standoff lasts several long seconds before Shigaraki viciously scratches his own neck. “I want you to shut up.” 

“Why?” He probes. He wants Shigaraki to keep talking but as usual, the villain just flies into hysterics. 

“This is not a debate, you shitty NPC!” 

“If anything, I'm player two,” Izuku mumbles. And wow, he didn’t know Shigaraki could make that high-pitch of a noise. He wonders why Shigaraki always defaults to that insult. Izuku heard about the fucking picture of him that Shigaraki carried on his person, so he thinks he might earn a little more respect as an archenemy than just “NPC.” 

For the supposed head of the League, Shigaraki should have more gravitas or even self-awareness. If the puppet leader wants to throw tantrums, Izuku won’t expect any useful information from his questions. But he can still annoy the shit out of the villain while satisfying his own curiosity. Izuku’s wrist flexes in the handcuffs. 

“I’m just a little frustrated. You took me hostage at the mall and ruined our whole day so I thought you’d taken my advice and created a meaning behind your actions besides killing All Might. But I don’t think you actually listened.”

Shigaraki and the league are so short-sighted. They want to take down All Might. They want to destroy heroes. But they only attack heroes. They make themselves villains in the eyes of civilians instead of gaining their sympathy. They don’t attack the systematically oppressive government systems like, say, the Hero Public Safety Commission. That’d be where Izuku would target. 

Not that he’s ever thought about it. In detail. Much. 

Nedzu has some interesting hypothetical scenarios, okay? 

“You want to kill All Might because you hate him. But why?” 

“Why not?” Shigaraki shoots back angrily. “He’s the perfect statement. He thinks he can save everyone with a smile but he can’t. He’s delusional.” 

No, you. Izuku bites his lip to keep it in. 

“Okay, but why? ” He stresses once more. “You were failed by the heroes? You were mistreated? I don’t know your story, Shigaraki. You’re only telling me about your hatred but not what you want out of life. Every villain has someone to destroy but what do you want to gain?” 

The villain twitches minutely. His fingers flex tightly on Izuku’s neck for a moment before jerking away. He’s silent for several long moments, his face a storm cloud. 

“I want to win .” 

Izuku prays to whatever deity he’d personally given up ages ago for patience. He’s learned repeatedly that life isn’t easy. It isn’t a game. Even in battle--even when stopping villains and saving the day--you don’t truly win. There’s always another life in danger. Always someone in pain or struggling or dying. Sometimes it’s even you. You don’t win. You do your best, you embrace your life, then you die. 

Is it more ironic or sad that he--a high schooler--can face harsh reality more than a scarred young man leading a criminal organization? Hitoshi would say ironic . Shouto would say unsurprising .

Izuku must be lost in his thoughts for too long because Shigaraki is back in his face, luckily not touching his person. He doesn’t want to get a complex about a hand on his neck. He has plenty of nervous tics already and Hitoshi gives the best neck massages after training. He refuses to give that up due to his current kidnapper. 

“All of your little friends will die. Your heroes will turn to dust. I’ll be the MVP of this entire world, bastard. I want to win and I will.” Shigaraki’s breath is hot and honestly in need of a mint as he rages in Izuku’s face. Ew. 

Izuku hums noncommittally. The villain bares his teeth.

“So you have two options. Either realize we’re the true path or die painfully.” 

What? 

“Wait...are you...are you recruiting me? Can you not make friends like a normal person?!” He blurts. Yes, Shigaraki’s good old M.O. of kidnapping to recruit. He wondered if this would happen. Apparently, that’s easier than a help-wanted poster. 

“You’ve been brainwashed by those shiny idiots who think using your powers for their sake makes you noble. Even if you don’t join the League, you’ll die. By my hand or your own.” 

A fleck of spit lands on Izuku’s face as Shigaraki talks. Izuku refrains from gagging. He’s used to being accidentally spat on with his very loud friends. Plus all of the years of the “Bakugou Katsuki Explodo-Special.” 

“Though I would love to skip the cutscenes and take care of you myself.” Izuku tunes back in for that lovely threat. Should he point out how that phrase sounds? He bets that Shigaraki's face would be hilarious. But no. He can already picture Aizawa-sensei facepalming in despair at that ensuing conversation. 

Would Shigaraki even understand innuendo? Did All for One have to give him the “sex talk”? He blinks several times to dispel that unfortunate thought and tunes back into Shigaraki’s still-going monologue of threats. Izuku clears his throat. 

“If you wanted to kill me, you would’ve done it already.” 

“If it was up to me, you’d be dust the second you woke up,” Shigaraki instantly hisses. 

Izuku valiantly refrains from rolling his eyes. Seems like none of the League’s plans were really up to Shigaraki. 

Said villain just stands there, seething. He surprisingly hasn’t gone straight back to the physical threats or another disintegration attempt. To be honest, Izuku has been treated far nicer than he’d expect from the League he’s been fighting for years now. Well, save for the shoulder, but that’s more of a flesh wound. He was more beat up facing Gentle Criminal. 

He can’t unsettle Shigaraki much more though. He has to walk a fine line against the manchild with anger issues.  Arguing hasn’t given him any useful information. It’s almost repetitive in its cycle. Izuku’s heard worse from elementary schoolers. Does he really want to listen to more threats upon his person and loved ones when he can’t even rub his forehead against the endless headache? 

Not particularly.

So Izuku just...nopes out. 

“Okay,” he says. Placidly. 

“What?” 

“Just, I understand your intentions. I’ll have to decline that, uh, tempting offer. Kill me or don’t. Whatever.” 

“You--” 

“I...can’t find it in me to care about this particular conversation anymore,” he interjects. He carefully lifts his bandaged shoulder in an awkward shrug and blinks innocently at Shigaraki. 

“What the hell is wrong with you,” Shigaraki grumbles, scratching himself. 

“Childhood trauma, midterm exams, and this whole day in all honesty.” 

The villain stands awkwardly for a few seconds before shuffling backward. He slouches into the chair, his own hand covering his face instead of that horrifying fashion statement of a mask. He’s mumbling to himself and Izuku isn’t able to make out any actual words. Is this what his friends experience when he goes into his own mumble storms? 

“Hey,” he catches Shigaraki’s attention, the man glaring at him between his fingers. “Could you answer something I’ve been curious about?” 

“What.” 

“Why did you try to recruit Kacchan?” 

“Who the fuck is Kacchan?” He isn’t a gambling person but he’d say Shigaraki was about to completely shut down. 

Izuku clicks his tongue at himself. Almost everyone at their school knows who Kacchan is by now, much to Katsuki’s eternal despair.  So sometimes Izuku forgets that Kacchan isn’t actually his name. 

“Bakugou.”

“Oh, him. Why should I tell you ?” 

Izuku tilts his head to the side. “You don’t have to. I was just curious. You specifically targeted him at the training camp.” 

Shigaraki scoffs. “With his power and rage issues, he’d be a perfect villain.” 

“Wait a second. I know he has rage issues. How did you know that?” Izuku pries. Nedzu believes there’s a spy at the school and he’d love to try to narrow it down if they were watching his class. Then again...anyone watching Kacchan for three seconds would know about his anger management problem. 

“They had to muzzle the brat for winning the sports festival,” Shigaraki flatly says. His tone screams ‘you are an idiot,’ which, okay. That was not one of Kacchan’s best moments. And in Izuku’s honest opinion, not one of the teachers’ best moments either. But he’s only cautiously brought it up with Nedzu after many therapy sessions. 

“So you wanted him to join your team?” Izuku goads. 

Shigaraki’s hand finally falls from his face. He sneers. “Who wouldn’t want a living bomb?” 

“Did you think it would work?” He asks, honestly curious. 

“If All Might hadn’t messed with our plans, that kid would be with us.” 

Izuku finds many things wrong with that statement. He doesn’t know who ordered the kidnapping, whether it was Shigaraki or his supervillain sugar daddy. Most likely, it was All for One, but it may have been an unspecified order of just kidnapping anyone . Analyzing the battle of Kamino Ward after the fact revealed that All for One was a little too prepared to fight. He’d have to have known that heroes would rain down on them in order to rescue a student. 

So Kacchan was most likely bait. 

Did that mean Shigaraki just chose the kid he liked? 

Well. He chose poorly. 

Izuku hums. 

He and Kacchan had...an interesting relationship nowadays. After that fateful training exercise, the other boy apparently took his threat seriously and forced himself into counseling sessions with Hound Dog. The fear of Uncle Masaru remains strong for both boys. Aunt Mitsuki was a burning flame, full of passion and anger. Uncle Masaru was an ocean. Endlessly patient and calm but when there’s a storm, you could drown. 

Whatever Kacchan discussed with the counselor worked: the blond slowly lost some of the tension he always carried. He corrected himself on some of his harsher words towards the “Bakusquad.” He’s stopped calling people extras. 

But his and Izuku’s relationship is still strained.

They tried to interact more in the name of teamwork and project cohesion, rather than actually rebuilding a friendship. Their respective therapists agreed to “get along sessions,” mostly just studying at the dorms together. He and Kacchan had a long talk after many awkward silences--filled with tears and even a few thrown punches. They came to an understanding that they aren’t friends right now. They don’t...like each other. Kacchan--Bakugou--was still too stuck in his ways even if he was getting better. He still blew up first and asked questions later. 

And Izuku came to realize that...he was actually really hurt by his childhood friend’s behavior. It doesn’t matter if Kacchan doesn’t like him--even if he suspects that it’s more Kacchan not liking himself , but he’s not a psychologist. He was bullied and he doesn’t have to just forgive Kacchan. (He shared this revelation with Ochako and Tsuyu, his most trusted friends in interpersonal relationships, and they still tell him they’re proud of him.) 

So their dynamics slowly changde. Kacchan is actively bettering himself. Izuku’s growing as an independent person with boundaries. 

But that doesn’t mean he isn’t acutely aware of just who Kacchan is. 

Even as a violent loudmouth with anger management issues...he’s a hero. Kacchan believes in power and winning but he also believes in justice. All for One could offer Kacchan the world and the blond boy would try to bite his hand off. No money or first place title would matter if Kacchan didn’t earn it with his own two hands. 

Above all, Izuku respects that. 

“Kacchan’s gonna be an amazing hero,” he mumbles to himself. Shigaraki scoffs, aggrieved. 

He doesn’t pay attention to whatever monologue is then ranted, going off about Kacchan being a born villain or whatever. If Kacchan saying he’d be a hero to Shigaraki’s face during his own recruitment wasn’t enough, then nothing Izuku says here will convince the man otherwise. And isn’t that a kicker? That Shigaraki is part of the problem. He sees a strong quirk and a certain attitude and just assumes. How the “strongest will lead” and because Kacchan is more violent than say, Kouda, he could be a villain. Should be a villain. 

Kacchan isn’t a saint by any means. But anyone could be a villain. Ochako could’ve decided to rob banks instead of supporting her parents as a hero. If Tenya had been more capable, Stain would be dead. 

Hitoshi could’ve given in to the rumors about him. Shouto could've been another Dabi. 

And Izuku...

“Shigaraki,” he starts. He glances away from the villain. “When you destroy heroes and have your perfect society or whatever...how would you treat the quirkless?” 

“The quirkless?” The villain’s angry at yet another interruption.

“Yeah.”

“What the hell does that have to do with anything?” 

“Hm. Curiosity. Think of it as a delayed part of your recruitment speech if that’s what we’re calling it.” 

Shigaraki splutters. After a few seconds of thought, his nose scrunches. “Sensei would give them quirks.” 

...and there it is. 

He chuckles for a second, a little bitter. The villains who preach fighting against the inequality of their current system only seeing their own injustices. Why should these criminals with hate in their hearts and strong quirks care about the powerless? 

He’s questioned his dream of being a hero a million times before he met All Might. But he still had hope. And it’s taken some self-reflecting and deep therapy sessions to realize that if he hadn’t “manifested his quirk” he’d still try to be a hero even if he failed a million times. It might be tempting to fall into power as a villain. He has the capabilities, he knows. But Izuku would’ve just worked harder. 

He would’ve been the first quirkless pro-hero in generations. 

All Might gave him an incredible opportunity and power. But also an insane legacy. Sometimes, in his darker moments, he speculates on what life would be like if he didn’t have One for All. 

Without U.A. and his friends. Without Hitoshi and Shouto. Without the scars on his body and PTSD. 

He hates the idea of never meeting his most important people but he knows he’d claw his way to becoming a hero no matter what. He’d find a way. He’d try to be proud of his quirklessnes. The way he is proud of himself now for surviving and growing even when society told him no. 

And one day, he wants to see the world’s next quirkless hero. 

He sighs. 

“So you don’t actually want to change anything. You just want your own people in charge. This is why you’re a hypocrite.” 

Shigaraki’s hands tremble in rage. He’s still sitting across from Izuku, but leaning close enough for him to spot the stains on his clothes and bags under his eyes. Izuku stares at him defiantly.

“Shigaraki Tomura,” another staticky voice interrupts from behind him. It tickles Izuku’s brain, vaguely familiar in the way you hear the same commercial spokespeople or the train’s announcement system. 

“What?” Shigaraki snarls, glaring upwards at the ceiling. 

“The plan is complete. Sensei is on his way.” 

Oh shit. Oh shit. 

What? Sensei? As in All for One, on his way, coming here?  

“...huh?” Izuku squeaks. Then immediately clamps his mouth shut, trying to school his expression. It doesn’t matter: Shigaraki already noticed his panic and grins, invigorated.

How the hell did All for One break out of prison? According to All Might, Tartarus monitored even the smallest bit of quirk use and had fully automatic guns pointed at the villain at all times. Unless...All for One was able to subvert the monitoring system. Or instantly disable all of the guns. Or shut down the entire prison. Who knows what quirks he stole. 

Who knows what he could do. 

“Great,” Shigaraki responds enthusiastically to the still disembodied voice. “I should get ready. Doctor, let me come visit.” 

The voice crackles barely. Was that a sigh? Izuku can’t tell for sure since he’s too preoccupied trying to organize himself. “Very well.” 

Shigaraki steps back, still watching Izuku with that creepy grin. “Sit tight. Sensei will be here soon.” 

The villain leaves without further ado, dragging the chair behind him obnoxiously. Izuku spares a moment to panic that All for One escaped before pushing down the overwhelming emotions. 

Time drags on while he sits there, alone. 

He feels like he spends an eternity blinking harshly to keep his eyes open. He starts counting the dust motes he can see floating in the air when out of nowhere, there’s a presence behind him. 

“Hi, Izu-kun!” 

Oh, perfect. 

“Hi, Toga-chan.” 

“Shiggy wouldn’t let me come see you.” She pouts as she circles around to stand before him. Still wearing a school uniform, still covered in blood. Toga flicks a butterfly knife open and closed. 

She traces the blade along his cheek. Izuku watches her carefully, even if he can feel the shallow cut start dripping blood. Toga’s expression lights up and she immediately licks the knife, rapturous. 

“Your blood is always the be~est,” she sing-songs, cleaning the knife then licking her lips. She doesn’t stop watching the thin trail on his cheek. “You’ll give me more, won’t you Izu-kun?” 

The flat edge of the blade presses more firmly. Izuku regulates his breathing and adopts a sly look. 

“You can’t go straight to the main course, Toga-chan. You have to savor it.” Honestly, with the number of times he’s run into her, Toga is the easiest League member to manipulate--he means, understands. Ochako even wrote a guideline on the other girl. Tsuyu and Iida made them a punch card for Toga encounters. He wouldn’t have expected that level of teasing from those two in particular, but five punches earned you a friend date of your choice. So he mentally categorized the joke as thoughtful and moved on. 

This would be punch number four. He will be taking the Dekusquad to HeroCon. Maybe if he milks this whole kidnapping situation, he can work in a deal for his friends to cosplay.  

Anyway. He knows to play along with the villain. Her blood obsession and obvious loneliness often distract her. Ochako uses the “friends” card. Izuku’s method unfortunately involves more of his blood than he’d actually prefer. Hitoshi finds it hilarious that they both will sometimes flirt with Toga as well. 

Toga giggles and bends over into his personal space.  

“You’re so cute. I like you,” she beams as she collects the blood drops on her fingers and licks them. 

“I am...flattered.”

And in a way, he kind of is? Low self-esteem means even serial killers finding you appealing is a confidence boost. He’s never been confessed to before besides his boyfriends and even that he considers a miracle. 

Toga squeals. The psychopath plops into his lap and hugs him around the neck. Izuku refrains from tensing too obviously with how close her fangs are to his neck. He believes in his head-butting capabilities as a last resort. 

He hates that he can still feel himself blushing though. 

Izuku’s gotten more comfortable with people in his personal space, but villain or not, he’ll still be embarrassed by someone sitting on him. 

He refuses to think of the movie night cuddles with his boyfriends. Not the time. 

 “I heard you were the one who brought me here,” he fishes. Toga rears back enough to look him in the eye and beams. He glances away.

“I did! It was fate, I wasn’t expecting to run into you on the street.” 

“Fate, huh? We do seem to meet pretty often. You wouldn't happen to be following me?” He laughs.  

In a flash, the knife is pressed to the front of his throat. Can these villains stop it with the throat thing already? 

“You’d be so pretty all bloodied up,” she whispers. Izuku winces. 

“Thank you for the...compliment. I think. But, um, not to kinkshame you or anything--” he rushes the last sentence out. Toga tilts her head to the side, pressing the blade closer. 

“What does kinkshame me?” 

Oh hell no, he’s not explaining that. 

He’s saved by a jaunty knock on the door before it swings open and a masked man pokes his head in. The black and white-clad villain singles out Toga. 

“Shigaraki said you can’t be in here,” Twice states. “ Who cares what he thinks! ” 

“Aw, but I want to keep playing with Izu-kun,” she whines. Her arms tighten around his neck and she leans dangerously close to his face. Her eyes honestly scare Izuku a little bit as she grins. “Don’t you want to play with me?” 

“I’m not all that fun to play with right now,” he says through an awkward grimace. 

“You’re plenty fun. Izu-kuuuuuuun. We’d be so cute together!” Toga exclaims. Twice makes a weird noise from his place in the corner.

“I, uh, have two lovely boyfriends, so I’m--” 

“Brag about it!” Twice shouts. “ Damn, I can’t even get one boyfriend. ” 

“Aw, Izu-kun, is their blood as good as yours?” 

“Himiko,” Twice whines. Toga pouts childishly. 

“Can’t Shiggy wait? He wouldn’t let me come down here at all, that’s not fair!”

“He’s really excited about something. He’s creeping me out. ” Twice scratches the back of his masked head sheepishly. “We should get upstairs.” 

Toga wraps a curl of his hair around her finger before darting close and licking the cut on his cheek. 

“I’ll be back soon, Izu-kun, don’t miss me too much!” 

Toga bounces out of the room, bickering with Twice as the door slams closed. Izuku pauses for a millisecond before frantically trying to wipe his cheek using his shoulder. Once his cheek feels drier, he settles in solitude once more.

With nothing but time, he zones out. 

He misses Shouto and Hitoshi. 

Izuku had been looking forward to their cat cafe date. Shouto attracts cats like a beacon with his temperature and Hitoshi was a damn cat whisperer. Every time they went to this place, both boys drowned in fluffiness. Izuku has a few favorites that wander up to him and he will never refuse a kitty’s affections but it’s not the same as his boyfriends. 

How would their afternoon have gone? They’d curl up in their usual booth with a legion of cats and sweets. Hitoshi and Izuku would drink sugary coffee and Shouto would have the biggest mug of green tea they offered. They’d talk about the crime podcast Shouto recently followed, the bass practice that Jirou talked Hitoshi into, the dramatic courtship between Aoyama and Monoma that the two boys didn’t think anyone knew about. They usually gossiped about their friends and classmates. He’d let them know he spotted Mineta during an errand run; none of them had seen the pervert after he was expelled months ago. His boyfriends would ask after his mom. They’d play music quietly on one of their phones when they were preoccupied with petting the cats. 

Hitoshi would lean against one of them and smile softly. Shouto would light up when a cat nuzzles his face. Izuku would press his legs against theirs under the table and tease them with “Hiichan” and “Shouchan.” Hitoshi would turn pink. Shouto would most hopefully not start another fire.

All three of them still have to adjust to honest affection. Izuku wants that affection so badly right now. 

Hopefully, he’ll see them soon. 

Izuku comes back to himself when someone slaps his face. He squints at Spinner who is kneeling in front of him and scowling. Shigaraki stands behind the mutant quirk-ed man with a malicious grin.

“Sensei wants to talk to you.” 

For the first time since this whole kidnapping schtick started, Izuku is quickly uncuffed from the chair and dragged to his feet. Spinner refastens the cuffs so his arms are behind his back which, actually, feels kind of nice. It’s stretching out his locked-up muscles and he could weep with relief when his right arm loses some of its tension. Ironic since he is now more restricted but he will take any silver lining he can get. 

Spinner frog-marches Izuku out of the weird basement dungeon. He walks up wooden stairs with wobbly legs while Shigaraki heckles him as he stumbles. Spinner doesn’t say a word, just tightens his grip on his un-decayed shoulder. 

He’s surprised by the cleanliness of the upstairs area. It’s not residential, he can tell by the fluorescent lighting and wide doors. But it’s still homely enough that it feels more like a club lounge or maybe an odd bookstore. Izuku’s just grateful it’s not a sticky bar or a moldy warehouse. 

The trio pause outside of a door with opaque glass. Shigaraki knocks twice, “Sensei, he’s here.” 

“Send him in.” 

Shigaraki sneers at him and carefully opens the doorknob. With a jerk of his head, orders Spinner to push Izuku through the entryway. Izuku manages to catch himself after a couple of stumbles while the door clicks shut behind him. The room is lined with bookshelves. In the center are a mahogany desk and two plush chairs. Izuku takes it all in as quickly as possible while holding down his sudden nausea. He steels himself and looks at the so-called “sensei.” 

There, reclined in his seat as though he were a king, is a man with broad shoulders, a surprisingly crisp suit for a prison escapee, and horrifyingly familiar curly hair. He’d grown up with a handful of pictures scattered around the house: his beautiful beaming mother, a hyperactive toddler Izuku, and a tall freckled man with white hair and a calm smile. 

The same smile he has the bad luck to be looking at this very moment. 

“Izuku.” 

A deep voice. One that haunted his nightmares for weeks after Kamino. 

“Son.” 

No. Nope. Nuh-uh. 

“It’s been a long time. Take a seat.” 

Izuku blinks and suddenly he’s sitting down. His vision is doubling which is even worse. Now there are two of this nightmare. His hand jerks in an instinctive move to rub his eyes. A hot flash of anger at being unable to move, but no, it doesn’t just fade. It grows brighter in his chest as he traces the line of freckles he inherited from the world’s biggest supervillain. 

“I imagine this must come as a surprise.” All for One still smiles, casually swirling a glass of amber liquid. “I’ve been wanting to see you again for a while.” 

He pauses, obviously waiting for Izuku’s response. 

“Pay your damn child support.”

Ah, shit. Not exactly the first thing he wanted to blurt out. 

Midoriya Hisashi stills. The air doesn’t freeze; the walls don’t cave in from the man’s immense pressure like Izuku knows he is capable of. Has witnessed. But it feels like time stops. 

Green eyes watch him. He watches back. 

His mom loved to say that he inherited his father’s good looks and his mother’s coloring, though she teased that fate would’ve given him green eyes regardless. She stopped commenting about his father when it was clear the man had cut off all communication when Izuku was eight. Izuku doesn’t even remember his father, not clearly. A vague presence when he was younger. A rare occurrence. He never really cared much after things at school got worse: did he think it was his fault his dad left? Maybe. But he didn’t need some stranger with the same blood in his life as long as he had his mom. 

His therapist had had a field day with that revelation. 

He wonders what she’d say now. 

She probably should get a raise after all of this. 

“Is that any way to greet your father?” 

Izuku idly ponders if Shouto and Hitoshi’s “Izuku Danger Sense” is at an all-time high. Here he is, facing down a monster of legend, and being scolded for being rude. To his birth father. Who, let him just reiterate, is a goddamn supervillain. 

He should definitely be terrified right now. 

The white-hot rage building inside him says otherwise. 

“Mom is so going to kick your ass.” 

All for One clicks his tongue and places his glass on the desk in front of him. 

“Doubtful, but her quirk is formidable enough to try. Your mother doesn’t like violence.” 

True enough; one of the biggest reasons she worried over Izuku’s hero career. Not just because of the danger, but the inherent violence of the system as a whole. Izuku honestly agreed with her viewpoint--why cause harm if you can avoid it? 

“Okay then. I am going to kick your ass .” 

Izuku rocks forward in his chair. 

“You know, my spies said you were a quiet and gentle child. I wonder what went wrong. I blame that blond buffoon of a man.”

“Or maybe the years of systematic bullying or abandonment issues,” Izuku fires back. He’s reciting one of his therapist’s biggest diagnoses. 

“Nonetheless, I can help you, son.” 

Help? Help? Gee thanks, kind stranger, for the kidnapping and the nightmares. His jaw is stuck on the floor and the only reason he doesn’t start disparaging all of this villain’s mental capabilities. Izuku tries to reboot his brain. 

“I’m good,” he firmly says. 

“Izuku, I am the only one who can help you. I can’t let you destroy yourself.”

“No thanks,” he presses. The words themselves are sweet, the way ethylene glycol is sweet. But antifreeze is not meant to be ingested. 

“This isn’t something you should refuse,” while I’m asking nicely, Izuku hears. Why does his biological father have such creepy vibes? Yes, he’s a mass murderer and supervillain, but the man can’t take a “no” for an answer, can he? Oh gods, he never wants to compare his biological father to Mineta but the similarities are increasingly upsetting. That weird mask All for One wore at Kamino must be the headwear version of a reinforced diaper. 

Because this man just keeps talking shit. 

“That quirk of yours breaks you.” A strangled noise leaves Izuku’s throat. “I can fix that. Why not let me have that quirk and I’ll give you a new one? One that won’t horrifically disfigure you.” 

The man is soothing, sweet. He obviously knows Izuku has One for All, does he know that Izuku is aware of its history? Is he trying to deceive him? Bribe him? 

“If you could do that when you were still around, why didn’t you?” That’s a sticking point he hadn’t expected, actually. If his bio-dad is someone who gives and takes quirks like candy and actually cares about him, why didn’t he give something to Izuku? Maybe he did and it hadn't been activated? He feels faint when he considers the possibility of inheriting his father’s actual quirk. 

But no, he had the toe joint and he’d done so many tests. Tried so many things, prayed for any quirk. He was--had been--quirkless. That question also relies on All for One caring about him. He’d be more likely to take Izuku’s quirk if he’d been born with one. 

Izuku runs through different possibilities in the scant seconds he has during All for One’s casual silence. The villain opens his mouth to answer, no doubt a lie, but Izuku beats him to the punch. 

“No, you wouldn’t have, would you? I was quirkless so I was useless for someone who just wants quirks.” He laces as much venom as possible in his words. “Was that all I was? An experiment like the Nomu? How many bastard children did you have?!” 

Hisashi leans back in his chair and regards Izuku with a stern glare. 

“Izuku, please. Experiments? Would you believe that I fell in love with your mother?” 

Izuku scoffs. 

“Yes, because she’s a delightful woman and the best person ever. Everyone falls in love with her. People would be lucky to fall in love with her, even a heartless bastard like you. But you thinking you love her doesn’t excuse any of this shit you’ve pulled as a deadbeat dad. You left.”

“Izuku,” All for One warns. His posture is relaxed, but his hand tenses around the drink. 

“No,” he forges on, “falling in love with my mom doesn’t make you special. You ruined any and all opportunities you had with her. If you’re even serious or if you even know what love is, you psychopath!” 

A deep breath, half to recenter himself from his sudden anger and half to stop the nausea. 

”I’m actually curious what prompted you to start a family then. Were you playing house? Tried to see what all the fuss all of the non-megalomaniacs made. Then let me guess, you got bored when you found out I was quirkless?” 

“I had every intention of returning.” The villain’s voice is strained. Izuku has to swallow down his nerves at the sudden pressure. He doesn’t believe that for a second. The man calling himself his father “left overseas” not long after his official diagnosis as quirkless. Inko was able to talk to him occasionally but Izuku never cared. His father was often out for work when he still lived with the family anyway. 

How could he miss someone he never really knew was there? Why would he care if that stranger came back? 

Izuku isn’t sure what All for One hopes to accomplish with this kind of manipulation. Make him sympathetic? Keep up the “we’re a family” charade? 

“It’s far too late,” Izuku promises. “It isn’t even about you being a supervillain or the worst sperm donor. You broke mom’s heart.” 

“She would be happy for my return.” All for One’s voice is quiet. Deadly. 

Hell no. Fuck no. 

Just how delusional was this man? Leaving, only keeping up minimal contact for years before completely disappearing? He didn’t know just how much Inko cried at night those first few years but Izuku did. He’d never forget. Maybe he might’ve wanted his father to come back if just for his mom’s sake but that was ages ago. 

“She really, really wouldn’t. She’s happier now that she’s gotten over you. Mom’s even moving on, you know?” 

All for One’s grip on his chair tightens. 

“She gets asked out at work constantly. Kacchan’s parents have been flirting with her for years, ” he continues, then smiles meanly. “Though she’s pretty sweet on All Might nowadays.”  

Which is blatantly untrue, but Izuku says it purely for the rage it induces in All for One. 

His mom did strike up a strong friendship with Yagi, but she’s more often fondly exasperated with the man. She invites his mentor over for dinner once a week if just to make sure he’s eating properly. But she treats him as a distant family relative more than any potential partner. No, despite what Shouto still (firmly argues) claims, Yagi won’t ever be his official father; biologically or through marriage. That particular honor looks like it might go to Detective Tsukauchi Naomasa. 

Inko thinks he doesn’t know about the phone calls and lunch dates with the good detective. They hit it off being worrywarts over their heroic loved ones and had met one too many times after villain attacks for them to not exchange phone numbers in case of an emergency. He doesn’t know how exactly it turned into innocent flirtation and deeper connection, but he’s waiting for the day his mom tells him about a new man in her life. 

For now, Izuku pretends not to know even though he and Yagi gossip about it constantly. He’s already written three different versions of a shovel talk. He’s been trying to figure out a way to slip in a phrase like “you can’t handle the truth.” A work in progress.

He takes another gamble with his life and cuts off All for One when the man opens his mouth, probably to say something else underhanded and smarmy. 

“Not that this family reunion isn’t interesting and kind of horrifying, but what’s the point of all of this?” 

“I’ve already told you, what a pity. I think our negligence in hosting you may have made it difficult to remember things.” 

Now he’s being sassed.

...touché. 

“Thanks, it’s the concussion.” 

All for One tsks. “I told Tomura not to harm you.” Yeah, right. “I don’t wish to torture you, Izuku, you’re my son.” 

Can Izuku provide constructive criticism for villain monologues? Would that be weird? Too repetitive, shabby use of exploiting familial ties, zero believable sympathy. Two out of ten stars. 

“I’ve prevented my successor from seriously maiming you. Please don’t make me call him in.” 

The villain pointedly glances at the bandages on Izuku’s shoulder. He walks closer and looms over the bound teenager. 

“Oh, how benevolent of you, father,” he spits the last word. “Not letting the psychopath you created torture me to death yet, so nice. Dad of the year award.” 

“Your attitude could use some adjusting.” There’s no faux kindness or familiarity in the man’s tone anymore. A hand covers his face. Izuku bares his teeth to bite but the villain activates his quirk and pulls.  

Every single nerve ending screams. 

He does too. 

It’s like his soul is trying to be sucked out through a bendy straw then forcefully shoved back in. Fire races through his veins and he almost pukes from the disorientation. When it finally stops, Izuku has saliva dripping down his chin and tears in his eyes, harshly gasping for air. 

“Disappointing,” All for One absentmindedly says while staring at his hand. 

“So is finding out we’re related,” Izuku croaks. 

“You have spirit,” the man comments like it’s about the weather. Nice day out, hm? Impressive how you can handle torture. 

“Then I suppose it won’t hurt to try again.” 

Izuku doesn’t know how long All for One tries to pull out his quirk the second time but there’s a high-pitched whining sound in his ears that he realizes too late is him. He freely cries, eyes screwed shut, and tries to block out as much of the all-consuming pain as he can. 

All for One hums in contemplation when he finishes. “This really would be easier on you if you just agree to give me the quirk, son.” 

“Over my dead body,” he declares. All for One chuckles, amused. 

“I don’t think you quite understand the situation you’re in.” 

“No, I understand just fine,” Izuku says, head lilting. “I know more about this than you.” 

A hand is back on his forehead and he tenses, expecting the pull. But his biological father just stares down at him with a pleasant smile and cold eyes. “Oh really? Do tell.” 

Izuku feels his legs shake from fatigue, even as he’s sitting. He glares up at the villain. 

“You won’t kill me,” he confidently states. “I don’t know if there’s any actual emotion or fondness behind that decision but at the very least, it’s because you want One for All.” 

The villain’s grip tightens at the name. He continues. 

“And sure, if you kill me, the legacy of this quirk dies and won’t be a threat to you anymore. But you play the long game. Obviously, for a geriatric like you,” this earns him a harsh tug. He hisses. “You’ll try to manipulate or torture me into willingly giving you my quirk since I’m obviously an easier target at the moment than the previous holders. An indefinite amount of time at your mercy is tempting enough, you’d have a higher chance of getting the quirk you so desperately want.” 

There's a flicker of apprehension in All for One’s frigid stare, gone in a flash. Izuku chuckles half-desperately, butting against the hand still on his head. 

“But it won’t work.” 

The pull comes suddenly. He almost bites his tongue off with how hard he clamps his jaw, scream escaping through closed lips. 

“It belongs to me.” 

For a supervillain known for his calculative mind and track record of inducing Stockholm Syndrome, Izuku thought he’d be better with words than a toddler throwing a tantrum. 

“No, it doesn’t. It is mine ,” he swears back. “This is just a matter of who has more stamina.” 

He spits, saliva landing somewhere around the villain’s shoes. “And trust me, sperm donor. I’ve had over a decade of psychological and physical torment, so I’ll know where I’ll be placing my bet.” 

All for One’s second hand grasps the lower half of his face and squeezes in an obvious threat for him to stop talking. 

He wheezes, half a laugh. “You can’t outstubborn me,” he says. “All Might himself tried to crush my dream of being a hero but that wasn’t going to stop me. So what makes you think you can?” 

That last sentence earns another fiery pull as All for One activates his quirk once more. 

He swears he can feel phantom brushes through his hair, gentle touches to his back. Colors float behind his eyelids while he screams. The brightest color is green. A gentler green than the poison staring back at him when he opens his eyes but still similar. 

All for One callously shoves Izuku’s head to the side, studying him with barely concealed rage. 

Izuku licks his lips and tries to catch his breath. He tastes blood. When did his nose start bleeding? 

“I think you’ll find I can do whatever I want, Izuku.” 

Another pull and he feels his senses white out. Does he scream? Who knows. What can only be a minute at most feels like hours. He squeezes his eyes shut, determined not to let any more of his unconscious tears leak out. The only reassurance is the pulse of One for All in his chest, however cut off it may be with the suppressants. He still has All Might’s quirk. His quirk. It’s still safe.  

It’s one thing to sass and snark. He can use it as a tool or as a comfort. He’s always had this edge of humor, this quick wit, even when he tried to be meeker to be accepted before high school. His friends let him be comfortable. His boyfriends let him be true to himself. He’s blossomed so much from the scared, quirkless boy he was born as (and will always partially be, deep down). His habit of mimicry saved him many times, literally and figuratively. Channeling Hitoshi and Shouto kept him sane throughout this trainwreck of a day. Channeling Nedzu and Aizawa keeps him focused. 

But there’s always been a part of him, slowly being unleashed, where he’s kept the actions of the first person he mimicked. The first person he wanted to be like, just because he had admired them so much. 

His own inner self can artfully tear people to shreds with just words. 

His inner Kacchan doesn’t give a single fuck about finesse. 

“Fuck you and the devil goat you were born from,” he growls. He bares his teeth at the hand returning to his head. “Get your damn pedophile hands off of me, you fucking leech ass bitch.” 

“Where in the world did you learn that kind of language?” And the kicker is, All for One actually sounds impressed. 

“From your pimp.”

All for One places a finger to his own lips in consideration. “Maybe we should see how well you handle the opposite effect.” 

“What?” 

“So far no one’s survived multiple quirks given to them without turning into a Nomu. You may have the right constitution to live...but it’s highly unlikely. Maybe as a mindless beast, you’ll obey your creator better.” 

 “You--” 

His next masterpiece of an insult goes unappreciated as the villain suddenly looks away, tense. Izuku uses the moment to try to catch his breath. 

All for One’s head tilts to the side as he stares through the closed door. His eyes narrow dangerously. 

“We’ll continue this discussion shortly. There are some pests to take care of.” 

And a boom echoes through the building. In an instant, All for One blasts through the door towards the direction of the noise, most likely on the other side of the building. The force of his departure shatters the wall and sends Izuku to the floor. He coughs to expel the dust from his lungs; who knows what kind of stuff was in the walls of a villain hideout? He won’t be dying of asbestos today. 

He can’t help but wonder why All for One just...left him in a room. Unsupervised. He knows how quickly the supervillain can end a fight but based on the explosions and sudden shaking in the building, it’s one hell of a battle. Even if All for One is incredibly strong, it’ll still take some time to deal with everything and return. Plenty of time to act. He’s done more mischief in less time, this’ll be a piece of cake. 

...he hopes. 

Izuku groans and heaves himself up from beneath the overturned chair. It’s more difficult than expected to push off the ground using only his legs and back muscles, hands still bound behind his back. Did the man really think Izuku would sit quietly and twiddle his thumbs? Maybe he assumed he’d be in too much pain to move after their lovely chat but Izuku regularly takes on bad guys with at least one broken bone so the joke’s on him. 

Getting to his feet is another adventure but he manages. The door takes some maneuvering in order to get through without scratching himself on the All for One shaped hole but he makes it into a nondescript hallway covered in debris. There’s a couple of doors on the side but if he follows the trail of destruction, he’ll make it to where All for One--and the heroes--are. 

He’s shuffling to the end of the hallway when a door slams open with an explosion, a gauntlet swinging up to scope the area. Smoke curls through the space, giving angry red eyes a demonic glow. 

“Kacchan,” he croaks, relieved. The blond stares him down intensely. Izuku is sure he’s cataloging all of his injuries and emotional state. 

The other boy huffs and jerks his head to the side, fists tight at his side.  

“Pizza delivery, nerd.” 

Izuku can’t help it: he laughs. It’s a short bark of a thing, but he appreciates the joke. Kacchan once told him what All Might said during his own rescue during one of their awkward “can we tolerate each other” sessions. 

“It’s over thirty minutes late. I’m not paying for it.” Both of them ignore the wobble in his voice. Another boom resonates from outside. 

“Hurry the fuck up, then.” 

He stumbles closer to Kacchan who quickly grabs his arm to keep him steady. He touches a device in his ear, barking out words like “found him” and “on our way” but honestly Izuku’s too lightheaded with joy to pay attention. 

Izuku’s getting the hell out of here. 

Later, when the police ask him to recount how he got out of the base, all he’ll be able to recall is “Kacchan dragging me and telling me I look like shit until we were outside.” The minor earthquakes caused too much damage in the building for him to make out any details but it doesn’t matter once he’s able to scurry after Kacchan through a side door. 

Izuku’s deep inhale of air is intoxicating. He determinedly ignores the smoke and taste of iron in his mouth. 

“I need these--” He shakes his cuffed hands together behind his back. “I need them off.” 

Kacchan glares at the offending restraints but before he can respond--or maybe try breaking them--a dark shadow appears at Izuku’s side. 

“Let us,” Tokoyami says. Dark Shadow wraps around him like a cape, writhing angrily. 

“Mido! Mido are you okay?” Dark Shadow growls. As one, they wrap clawed hands on the edges of the cuffs and twist, painlessly freeing Izuku. 

He huffs a little laugh and tries to stretch out his aching muscles. 

“I’m good now, thank you.” 

A tendril of shadow comes off from the sentient quirk’s body and pats Izuku’s curls. 

“Tsukuyomi!” A sidekick calls out nearby, dodging marbles flung at them. Tokoyami jumps into action immediately and bats Mr. Compress away. Turns out the ex-magician can't marble away quirks. Izuku watches him go and notices the sheer chaos. 

He can pick out some familiar faces in the assault. Endeavor, Hawks, and Best Jeanist. Miruko, Gang Orca, and Ryuku. Fatgum leads with his official sidekick Suneater. He sees a few of his teachers in the chaos: Aizawa, Present Mic, and Snipe. He glimpses Tsuyu and Ochako with their old mentor; Kirishima covering Suneater’s back. Other heroes he’s not personally familiar with go flying around a mass of quirk attacks that is undoubtedly his dearest dad. Sidekicks and students fire weaponry emblazoned with “Hatsume,” everyone yelling strategies to each other as they keep the boogeyman occupied. 

All of these people came for him. His friends and his heroes. 

He chokes up a little, he’ll admit. 

“Wondered how many people would form a rescue party. Figured everyone would sneak away.” He discreetly rubs his eyes. Kacchan still scoffs.  

“Sneaking out is only for your crazy friends. All of the extras wanted to join but sensei put them in their place. They’re out evacuating the perimeter with other heroes on standby.” 

Aizawa must’ve realized that while numbers are good against a single strong opponent, they’d risk a chance of just giving All for One more quirks. He knows all of his classmates are incredibly capable and strong but he’s relieved that most of his class aren’t directly at risk. The work studies students being here already makes him nervous. 

Izuku sighs in relief but startles at the gloved finger suddenly pointing at him. His childhood friend turned bully turned...something. Rival. Potential friend. Kacchan just glares at him and gestures angrily in his direction. 

“Don’t do that shit again.” 

Before he can respond, he and Kacchan are separated by a flying chunk of concrete that causes both of them to leap backward. He’s not sure if the person using the pavement as a discus is a hero or villain and at this point, he doesn’t care. Fresh air--filled with smoke and the smell of blood--but still fresh air. Yay, no more basement. 

He notes Kacchan blasting away to obliterate more flying debris. Izuku tries to take stock of the situation. 

“Boy, get out of here if you’re just going to stand around!” Oh and look, a talking donkey. Endeavor blasts a knife flying at him with a way too hot jet of fire. The number one hero growls and stalks toward him while Izuku stares him down, squinting at the bright fire coming off of his douchey powertrip beard. 

“Aw, you survived.” 

“What the hell does tha--” 

“IZUKU,” two people yell. The most beautiful sight Izuku’s ever witnessed: Shouto and Hitoshi running full-sprint at him. 

His breath catches in his throat and he immediately leaves the flaming dumpster can behind as he shuffles forward. Both of his boyfriends collide into him at once, Hitoshi practically rambling about how worried he was and Shouto frantically checking over his more obvious injuries. And ooooh, he’s not going to be able to wave off his new shoulder mark, huh? 

Though if he’s honest, he’d take a million reprimands and mother-henning if it means he gets to see these two. 

Izuku sniffs. 

“Are you okay?” Hitoshi asks, also choked up. His hand cups Izuku’s cheek and he uses his thumb to wipe off some of the blood under his nose. 

“I’ll kill them,” Shouto swears. Wisps of smoke come off of his head but he’s tearing up. He’s gripping the back of Izuku’s shirt tightly. 

“Not if I get to them first,” Hitoshi fires back. 

These two damn saps. 

It's as easy as breathing to just huddle forward into the shelter of Protective Boyfriends. He drops his head onto the closest shoulder--curse them both for their height--and ignores the shaking in his limbs. 

“My head hurts and my leg fell asleep a while ago but I’m okay. I’m here.” 

A hand idly pats at his right thigh which isn’t even the correct leg he’s talking about but physical affection is necessary for survival right now so he’s more than happy. And judging by the sudden warmth of the hand soothing sore muscles, it’s Shouto, the sweet doofus. A deep hum beneath the shoulder he’s resting on--oh, so it’s Hitoshi--and two pairs of arms wrap around him tightly. 

An explosion nearby rocks the ground. All three sway as the concrete shifts, chunks splitting apart from the force. They hold each other tighter to keep balance. 

“We’ll get you out of here,” Hitoshi says. Izuku basks in the idea of just leaving this chaos behind and finding a nice place to nap. 

But he can’t just let this go, can he? He’s a hero. A student, yes, but he’s been through too much to not be willing to jump into action. More than that, he thinks as he clenches his scarred hands, he feels a bit too responsible for this. 

All for One and One for All. 

Father and son. 

Izuku sighs and steps out of his boyfriends’ loving embrace. 

“No, we have a job to do.” 

“Izuku, you were literally kidnapped five minutes ago.” Shouto’s frowning as he gently grabs one of Izuku’s closed fists. 

“I feel fine.” 

“Your definition of ‘fine’ is a little skewed.” 

“I can do this.” 

Izuku stares at his boyfriends. He’s not pleading nor demanding. This is a fact. He’ll do this. 

He will do this. 

Izuku straightens his spine and takes a deep breath. He can feel the tightly controlled inferno of One for All returning to him now that the cuffs are off. 

A wave of ice stops a sudden spike All for One throws in their direction. The villain fights back against Hawks and Gran Torino. He’s blocking bullets from Snipe and dodging Cementoss’ pillars. Both Gang Orca and Present Mic alternate sonic and voice attacks but they’re blasted away. Best Jeanist’s threads snap and burn beneath All for One’s fire breath. 

And isn’t that something he never wanted to see? 

His father’s fire breath quirk. 

One he probably stole. 

“We need to do something. And we can. Plus Ultra, right?” 

Hitoshi grimaces but gives in, already accepting his fate of being unable to out stubborn Izuku. Shouto doesn’t stop frowning but doesn’t argue any further. They both have a fire in their eyes. 

Damn, he loves these two. 

With the romantic background noise of sonic screams and Kacchan yelling “die,” Izuku cups Hitoshi’s left cheek and Shouto’s right cheek. He gently tugs until they all have their foreheads lightly pressed together. He glances between them, choked up. 

“I have so many things to tell you. You both need to be safe so I can gossip later, okay?” 

“Only if you are,” Hitoshi swears. His hand reaches up to grip Izuku’s wrist. His other hand tangles with Shouto’s fingers. 

“Promise,” Shouto confirms, eyes closing. 

Izuku darts a quick kiss to both of their lips, blushing at the public display of affection for all that literally no one is paying attention to them. That’s okay, Shouto and Hitoshi look just as flushed. 

“Promise,” he says as he activates his quirk. His passion and determination rocket him to 45% of One for All. 

He stares at the natural disaster known as All for One and finds rage pushing his limit even higher. 

“Enough,” he says. Even across the battlefield, the man that calls himself Izuku’s father hears and grins. Everyone tenses at his menacing aura. 

“Exactly. This is definitely enough . I believe our present is ready. Doctor, if you’d be so kind?” 

The pavement rumbles and cracks, caving inward as deformed claws and arms break through. An army of Nomu burst out from beneath the ground. Izuku wonders for a split second where the hell that particular storage room was. How does the League manage to find space to hold all of their ugly pets? Was he right next to the Nomu daycare in his little basement dungeon? 

He’s in his ripped tee shirt and cargo shorts, trusty red sneakers still strapped to his feet. Dancing rings of green lightning play with the strands of Black Whip he shoots to knock down the Nomu barrelling for him. Covered in dust and blood, he makes eye contact with sadistically gleeful green eyes. Phantom hands grip his shoulders in reassurance. Izuku scowls. 

And leaps. 

He darts as close to the ensuing wreckage as possible but has to sidestep electrified whips coming from the ground. Izuku pivots and tries to kick out at the supervillain, the force of his leg meeting a reinforced arm sending shockwaves of wind through the area. 

(Edgeshot darts between the exposed brains of the Nomu to incapacitate them. He takes the opening Aizawa gives him by using Erasure on Kurogiri to knock out the portal user the same way he did months ago. Eraserhead nods, still staring at the mist man before gripping his capture weapon and flinging it around a spindly Nomu creeping up behind Gang Orca and throwing it to the side. Edgeshot continues his spree.) 

Izuku zigzags past the minefield of quirks and flying projectiles. None of his punches or kicks land. He narrowly misses Hawks who is thrown in his direction. He grabs the hero by the fluffy collar of his jacket, the two sharing a quick nod and shooting forward. Izuku jumps into the air and fires off as many Air Shots as possible while overhead, Hawks throwing feathers and Snipe shooting exploding bullets. 

(Ochako and Tsu fight off clones and monsters while evacuating the remaining civilians nearby. Ochako is fiercely punching through the swarm of villains while Tsu leaps and bounds past with innocent bystanders. A Toga clone’s head is kicked off. A Dabi clone is sent rocketing into a building. Nomu orbit in the sky, flailing. Piles of goop surround them.) 

While overhead, he tries to wrap Black Whip around All for One but is sent in the opposite direction with a powerful blast of water before the quirk could even touch anything. He activates Float as he spirals away and orients himself. Black Whip makes contact with the ground behind the villain and Izuku slingshots forward, feet first. His boots crack the sudden forcefield preventing him from bashing All for One’s face in. 

(Miruko and Tokoyami take on Compress and a few clones of Shigaraki. Miruko dodges every single marble with her speed while Dark Shadow swats at the man. With Tokoyami’s anger at a dear friend being injured, Dark Shadow quickly obliterates the clones and scoops up Compress in a large claw. Miruko sketches a salute before leaping onto the back of a flying Nomu and driving it into the ground.) 

Izuku and the supervillain trade blows, landing more on the son than the father. He grits his teeth and avoids closing his eyes when he tumbles and aggravates his shoulder. He’ll have one hell of a bruise later but he pushes forward. Izuku manages a blow to All for One’s side but it doesn’t phase the man. He pulls himself out of a wave of electricity and picks up a discarded pipe using Black Whip. With a quick spin, he builds enough momentum to yeet the pipe like a javelin. All for One dodges at the last second but the pipe still scratches him across the face.

(Endeavor fires off at All for One but is blocked by a wall of blue flames. Demented blue eyes stare him down as they accuse him of being a monster. Dabi monologues as he sends waves of fire at his father but ice suddenly surrounds him, creating an explosion of steam. Shouto encircles the villain with more ice as the truth behind Dabi’s identity is revealed. Their showdown feels eternal, full of madness and regrets. Endeavor burns, skin bubbling on his arms and face but cooled off by a reluctant Shouto who pushes himself harder--colder ice, hotter fire. It’s a sudden shot from Snipe and a tag team from Hawks and Miruko jumping in that disables the fire villain.) 

The battle feels endless as he jumps across the destroyed city block from all directions. He notices some brave paramedics and a few of their other classmates creating a perimeter for the escaping civilians. Izuku forces himself to focus on the fight instead of the crying bystanders or screeching monsters. He tastes blood in the back of his throat as he’s punched backward. 

(Kirishima and Bakugou fight back to back against Spinner and Toga. Kirishima protects himself from the sheer onslaught of knives and Bakugou sends explosion after explosion towards the nimble villains. A well-timed Howitzer Impact after Kirishima giving him a boost knocks Spinner out cold. Toga is punched right in the face by a frowning Kirishima. They immediately turn to try stopping more Nomu.) 

He pushes down the sudden fear that they might not win this. He dodges a lance of molten metal and launches an ineffective kick. He can’t start doubting--that’s how he loses. 

He can’t lose. 

(Ryuku and Nejire subdue Twice once they overcome the sheer numbers of his clones and Nomu. A single man isn’t enough to stop a dragon. Nejire’s interrogation of questions during their battles gives Ryuku a headache with the villain’s odd double-speak. Once Twice is unconscious, they leap closer to the main battle, Nejire blasting at All for One and Ryuku trying to swipe him with her tail.) 

He has to be stronger. 

(Fatgum bodyslams a fleeing Garaki into the ground. Tamaki restrains the scientist with his octopus arm and holds the deformed Johnny Nomu in a claw.) 

Faster. 

(Shigaraki dusts the ground and swipes at anyone he can get close to, brushing against skin for brief moments as he tries to support his sensei. But before he can lunge at Gran Torino, a voice calls out to him: “Hey Handjob, do you have a personal grudge against hygiene or something?” The resulting “What the fuck did you just say?” earns the villain a relaxing trip under Hitoshi’s quirk. The student wraps his own capture scarf around the man and debates trying his quirk against All for One, if he can even get close.) 

Better. 

A combined attack between Gran Torino, Miruko, Hawks, and Present Mic distracts All for One long enough for Izuku to take a second and catch his breath. He stumbles back a couple of steps and swallows down bile. Quick movements and acrobatics with a concussion? Would not recommend. 

Aizawa appears at his side, hand outstretched like he wants to steady Izuku. His eyes are bloodshot and enraged. 

“Aizawa-sensei?” 

“You’re not allowed to leave campus for a month, Midoriya,” the teacher quickly says. As he does, he stares down All for One with Erasure. Still, his quirk has no effect. But the man covertly hands a fabric-wrapped item to Izuku, never once taking his eyes off of the threat. 

“Nedzu wants you to have this. Said it’s the full version, whatever that means.” 

Miruko and Gran Torino go flying from a wind blast. Hawks and Present Mic dodge out of the way of oncoming flames. 

Izuku feels the weight of the package and knows.  

Plan 34 in his and Nedzu’s “what-if?” list. A homework assignment he’d agonized over during his strategy and tactics lessons. Nedzu had approved it with a gleeful smile but he’d never thought it’d be possible. Trust his principal to be able to pull it off. He chuckles, half-hysterically as he tucks the item into his waistband. 

“Midoriya?” Aizawa asks. He almost looks worried. 

“Sensei, you’re right. Nedzu is an evil genius.” 

“I’m always right,” his teacher responds as they both leap away from the suddenly airborne Gang Orca heading toward them. “Just make sure to tell your classmates that.” 

“Will do!” Izuku wants to add on an “if we even survive” but he knows Aizawa will only get Concerned™ because he’s an actual caring adult. He’s already going to have one hell of a therapy session after this. Better not add to it. 

He takes a deep breath and sends a quick prayer to the universe for this plan to work. For him to outsmart his usual bad luck. For this gamble to pay off. 

“All for One,” he roars across the makeshift battlefield. His friends and a couple of the heroes freeze. 

The monster in question slowly turns toward him, eyebrow raised. Izuku squares his shoulders. He takes a step forward.  

“I’m stopping you here and now.” 

“Can you actually stop me? You wouldn’t kill your father,” All for One taunts. He’s the picture of relaxation, surrounded by destruction and bloody heroes. 

(“What the actual fuck,” Hitoshi mouths to the nearby Shouto, who’s completely gobsmacked at the revelation.)

Izuku scoffs. 

“You’re right. I won’t kill you.” 

He’s never wanted to arbitrarily hurt anyone. He refuses to be another hero statistic of excessive force. Murdering a villain, no matter how evil, doesn’t sit right with him. He’s not judge, jury, or executioner--he wants to leave that to the professionals. Should certain villains die? Perhaps. But it’s not up to him. A sixteen-year-old kid. And call it naivety, call it stupidity, but he never became a hero for the power. He just wants to save people and he knows intimately how careful he’ll have to be with his destructive quirk to not be another Endeavor. He knows it’s not reasonable or realistic but he’ll stand by his choices. 

No, he won’t kill this man. Though not out of any familial obligation, that’s for damn sure. He won’t give up his morals. If he does, All for One ultimately wins in the end. 

The villain smirks like Izuku is the funniest thing in the world. 

All for One won’t be winning anything anymore. 

Izuku lights up and blasts forward. He swerves around spikes and blasts of fire as he gets right into the man’s personal space with a large swing of his arm. Midoriya Hisashi sighs playfully, still smirking, and abruptly grabs Izuku’s neck and forces him to the ground. Multiple voices cry out as Izuku wheezes from the dust and restricted airflow. His scarred hand tries to push his father off to no avail. He feels like he’s at 70% of One for All but it’s not enough. Izuku pours more power into his arms but All for One doesn’t budge. The villain leans into his personal space. Izuku kicks out, trying to buck him off.  

“That’s not going to work, Izuku. I think it’s time you learned some consequences for your actions. How about we start with killing everyone here while you watch?”

Izuku can see the flares of ice and fire bouncing off of one of All for One’s quirks--most likely a shield. Feathers fly all around them and he knows more than one person is screaming while he weakly gasps for air. But that’s okay. 

All for One turns his head, speculative but stupidly dramatic. He raises his free arm to point towards someone Izuku can’t quite see. A ball of purple electricity forms in his palm and he grins. “Make sure to watch, son.” 

And that’s the last thing Midoriya Hisashi says to his kid. 

So sure of his strength and upper hand, All for One never paid attention beyond what Izuku wanted him to see. Izuku pushed with all his might against the chokehold...with one hand. The other might have been played off as scrambling in the dirt but he’d reached for the item tucked into his waistband. 

All for One doesn’t notice the four bullets going into his side until it’s too late. Izuku’s finger trembles on the trigger of the dart gun while the man above him freezes. His face rapidly pales and he lets go of Izuku’s neck, stumbling back and gripping his side. 

“Wh--” All for One coughs. 

Izuku instantly jumps to his feet, raising the gun carefully and trying to regain his breath. The heroes around him all stop. 

There’s no blood or bullet wounds on the man, just four innocuous darts. All for One shakily picks one out but does nothing else. He looks sick. 

Izuku’s legs almost give out in relief. It worked. 

It worked. 

“Congrats,” he croaks. “You’re quirkless.” 

When Nedzu first gave him the assignment of how to take down some of the most well-known villains in the world, he naturally included the boogeyman of quirks. With such history between the villain and One for All, how could he not? It was better to have a plan for any worst-case scenarios. Izuku had provided several ideas but Nedzu’s favorite was this. 

Quirk-erasing bullets similar to those Overhaul used, without the child abuse and experimentation. Nedzu, with his multiple degrees in all of the damn sciences, knew it’d be easy to replicate the bullets with nothing but a cheek swab from Eri. 

Izuku had rambled about testing, about using temporary bullets on someone like Monoma to be sure if the erasure included copies. If Eri’s quirk rewound time--or genetic code--then it didn’t rely on blocking the quirk factor the same way Aizawa’s Erasure did. Theoretically, those bullets could erase all of the quirks All for One held. You’d have to get in close to bypass the villain’s defenses. A stronger dose, maybe multiple shots to be sure, but it was technically possible. 

Izuku never knew Nedzu actually made the bullets though. They’d stuck to hypothetical scenarios but trust the genius chimera to create the ultimate backup plan in a scary amount of time. Nedzu told Izuku it was the “full version”--meaning, these weren’t temporary. The final endgame. Nedzu and Izuku’s grand checkmate. 

He idly wonders if they did a test on Monoma (and if he could watch video of the teen’s reaction when the temporary bullets worked). He notes to himself to buy Eri all of the candy apples she could ever want. 

All for One raises his other hand, almost desperately. He grows enraged when nothing happens in response to his movements. Izuku takes a second to watch the now powerless villain as he tries to activate any quirk in his panic. No spikes or muscles or whips. No fire breath. No quirk stealing.

No more words needed then. 

Izuku darts forward and hooks his hands behind the man’s head, bashing his face into Izuku’s quirk-enhanced knee. He pushes off when he hears a crunch and lands on his feet less than a meter away. 

All for One--Midoriya Hisashi--falls to the ground. His eyes roll to the back of his head, nose broken and unable to heal itself. He doesn’t move. 

A beat of silence. 

How anticlimactic . 

Izuku doubles over. He pants as he clutches his forehead. He hears someone yell his name. Turning slowly, he watches Yagi dart around a few police officers to hurry closer, having apparently been in the perimeter crowd. He can see other heroes descending on the remaining villains with handcuffs and quirk suppressants. Shigaraki screams something unintelligible in his rage. Ochako asks a nearby officer if they have a muzzle. 

Garaki yells as he’s picked up, kicking his small legs in the air while Gang Orca is unimpressed. Dabi laughs at the horrified look on Endeavor’s face, even as he’s carted away in cuffs. The laugh is anything but relieved or joyful.

A sea of heroes surrounds the quirked world’s boogeyman who remains absolutely silent. Izuku doesn’t look in that direction. He brushes off the feeling of being watched through sheer willpower.

Long, bony arms wrap around him and squeeze. He hadn’t even noticed how close Yagi had gotten until he’s pulled into a surprisingly strong hug.

“My boy, are you alright?”

Izuku’s shoulders drop without his permission. The tension (and yes, fear) from the battle dissolves like sugar in hot tea at the reassurance that he’ll be okay. After all, what does he have to fear when All Might is here? Yes, the former number one is leaking both tears from his eyes and blood from his mouth but his grip is practically indestructible. 

“Dad,” he interrupts. Yagi stops his choked-up tirade over how worried everyone was and how proud he is of Izuku. 

He doesn’t notice multiple people glancing in surprise at Izuku’s name for Yagi. A nearby Aizawa huffs, half-amused, into his capture scarf while Hitoshi and Shouto share knowing glances as they hover around the duo. The rest of his classmates and friends look as though they want to descend upon Izuku but hold back. A paramedic begins walking closer, bag in hand. 

Izuku presses his forehead to his father figure’s chest and sighs. The weight of the world slips off his shoulders. 

“I never did get my water.” 

-.-.-.-.-

Less than twenty-four hours after his kidnapping, Izuku closes his eyes and breathes. His dorm room has never been more comfortable. He’s wrapped up in several blankets as well as the death grips of both of his boyfriends. Izuku traded his ruined clothes for the softest tank top and sweatpants he owns. Hitoshi curls around him like a determined koala and Shouto worms even closer against his chest, both also in their sleepwear.

Recovery Girl had healed him with a kiss when they returned to UA, which almost knocked him out completely when his remaining stamina left him. His shoulder wasn’t infected. He’ll have some minor scarring, but what else is new. Nothing was broken. His brain is all in one piece. 

The looming weight of a legacy of two quirks has disappeared. The people who tried to hurt him and his friends over and over are finally behind bars. There are a lot more personal revelations to unpack--and boy is he going to have the most awkward conversation with his mom--but the boogeyman is gone. 

He’s mumbling through an extremely abridged version of what happened as Shouto and Hitoshi hug him close. He knows they’re both also clutching each other’s backs, tightly entwined as they all are. Izuku can’t stop the small apologies from sprinkling through his story. Sorry for being kidnapped. Sorry for making them worry. Sorry for missing their date. 

A large, cool hand comes up and covers his forehead. Hitoshi’s thumb gently rubs against his hairline as his palm provides relief. Izuku isn’t overly warm but he’s trying to keep himself awake to reassure two of his most important people. The stress of fighting to stay awake as a concussed captive fights against the strain of keeping his eyes open. He’s not concussed anymore but a headache returns quickly. 

“Go to sleep,” Shouto gently orders. His breath tickles against Izuku’s collarbone. He squeezes his waist. 

“I have so many questions,” Hitoshi adds. His longer legs wedge between Izuku’s and trap one of Shouto’s ankles. “But they can wait until tomorrow.” 

Izuku won’t admit he’s pouting. He wants to rest but he doesn’t. He’s been through an ordeal and all he wants is to enjoy his long-awaited cuddles. And maybe some ice cream. 

“We’ll go to the ice cream parlor tomorrow.” 

Oh, did he say that out loud? 

“Yes.” 

Hmm. 

“Zuku, it’s okay.” 

Well, if they say it’s okay...

Everything might hit him tomorrow. How close to death he was. How lackadaisical he seemed, sassing supervillains. He’d been so detached but so ready to throw down. 

“Come on, Izu.” 

Aizawa already pulled him to the side with a gruff hug and a pointed reminder of his scheduled therapy session at the end of the week. Nedzu excused him from classes for the next couple of days. None of the teachers cared about the three boys breaking dorm protocol and staying together in one room. He has plenty of time to decompress and unwind from everything. 

“Get some sleep.”

It’d be okay. Maybe he could rest a bit. 

He had Hitoshi and Shouto by his side. 

“Of course.” 

“Always.” 

He leans back into Hitoshi’s embrace, dragging Shouto along to hold him close. He mumbled an incomprehensible mash-up of “good night” and “love you,” not aware of his boyfriends tightening their grips on him in adoration and whispering it back. Then whispering it to each other. 

Izuku falls asleep with a hand through his hair and the lullaby of a hushed conversation, the whirlwind of thoughts in his head finally quiet.