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Part 1 of Veritas
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2022-06-18
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Mission Failed (We’ll Get Them Next Time)

Summary:

“Look if you’re going to monologue before you kill me can you at least use the right pronouns?”

Or

Tomura only wanted to get answers out of the hero brat what was making his life so difficult. What he got instead was a depressed teenager who clung to the first people who showed basic decency.

Kidnappings are harder than video games make them look.

Notes:

So, hi. I was supposed to be working on my EraserGum long fic (which I was I have a couple chapters written but not like… the beginning) and I got a bit dysphoric and I was in pain so I wrote a complete rant fic intending it to be a short one shot.

Yeah.

Seven thousand words and at least two more planned installments later there’s this fucking thing.

(Also I totally didn’t get five thousand words in them realize I forgot twice… just pretend like he was the last to join or something idk)

Tw: All Might is transphobic, basically saying that Izuku can’t be nonbinary and a hero, canon suicide baiting, all the shifty things that come with Izuku’s backstory. Let me know if you need anything else put up here.

(See the end of the work for more notes and other works inspired by this one.)

Work Text:

“Look if you’re going to monologue before you kill me can you at least use the right pronouns?” 

 

To say Shigaraki Tomura looked like he had been hit by a brick would be an understatement. He had managed to drag the green hero brat through a warp gate in the commotion and crowds of the mall with only a finger hovering a few scant centimeters over the kid's throat sparing him (not him apparently) from a horrible death, and rather than beg for their (?) life the kid was instead asking him to use the fight pronouns.

 

What the fuck was wrong with this kid?

 

“Uh,” Tomura blinked, what the hell was he supposed to say? 

 

Magne, thankfully, had no such issue coming up with the right thing to say. “Of course, kid. We were going off of what they used at the Sports Festival, but if you have something you prefer we will use that instead. We’re villains not monsters.” 

 

The kid’s face went through a whole host of emotions faster that Tomura could identify before sagging in place so fast that the villain had to wrench the hand away from the kid’s throat and grip their elbows with four fingers each to make sure the kid wouldn’t accidentally decay themself. Not that he would have cared, but it would have been inconvenient after he already went through so much trouble to get the kid here. (And Kurogiri really hated when he decayed people in the bar. It left quite the mess for the warp villain to clean up.)

 

What he wasn’t expecting (as much as he was expecting anything after his hostage asked for their pronouns to be respected of all things) was for the kids shoulders to start shaking as they… laughed? Cried? Both. Deep sobbing laughs that tore from the little body in his hands like they hurt. 

 

Wide red eyes darted around the rest of the league who all looked just as out of their depth as he felt. Well, not Magne. She was moving to kneel in front of the kid with a knowing look on her face. A familiar shadow that he hadn’t seen since she announced her villain name, her chosen name like a threat the moment she walked through the bar doors. 

 

Like calls to like, after all. 

 

“Why are you all so nice about it?” The kid asked with a shattered sob, which nice was a stretch to say the least. Part of Tomura wanted to hit whoever broke the kid enough that they thought being accepted was anything less than basic human decency (he may be a villain, and he may torture and kill people, children even, but even he had standards. He at least used the right fucking pronouns for all of his victims. The bar was in the crust of the earth and yet somehow the kid was surprised that they were above it.) while the larger part just wondered how a kidnapping had gone so far off the rails. 

 

“I told you already, kid. We’re not monsters. Anyone who misgenders you on purpose is an asshole and a bigot.” 

 

The kid swayed on their feet before launching forward into the woman’s arms. If Tomura didn’t know better, he would have thought Magne had used her quirk with how the kid seemed to fly to her. 

 

Magne only wrapped her arms around the kid and carefully rested a large hand in their matted green curls as they sobbed bitterly into her shoulder. 

 

“A-A-All M-Might w-wouldn’t let me t-tell anyone. H-He changed my a-application t-to be more h-heroic.” 

 

If Tomura wasn’t already planning on killing All Might, that sentence alone would have convinced him it was necessary. (Who the fuck forcibly closeted somebody? Since when was being trans or whatever the kid was not heroic? Plenty of heroes were openly trans or nonbinary.) From the look on the other’s faces (even Spinner who hadn’t had an independent thought from Stain since the Hero Killer debuted) they all felt the same. 

 

Their group knew better than most what it was like to be unwanted by society. From mutant and villainous quirks to gender identity to mental illness, they had all been cast aside and forgotten. Unwanted. Alone. 

 

Just like UA’s golden child who had shattered their bones over and over again at the sports festival. Who had been named a fire hero by Stain. Who had been left behind by their friends at the all without so much as a backwards glance. 

 

(Tomura didn’t think Eraserhead would have forced the kid into being something they’re not. He definitely was too cool to purposely misgender someone.) 

 

Magne held the kid while they cried, and Compress flitted around the bar to grab one of the cleaner blankets they had stashed to wrap around the kid’s shoulders. Toga was latched onto Dabi’s arm with tears falling down her cheeks as she watched. Tomura wasn’t sure how she could stand the heat pouring off of the man as he struggled to contain his rage, but he was thankful that she was a persistent reminder of why Dabi couldn’t burn the bar down. Spinner’s hands flexed down at his sides like he was wishing for his weapon, not that Tomura blamed him. His own skin crawled with the need to break something like this kid had been broken. 

 

A teacup was set on the bar next to Tomura, and he didn’t have to look to know Kurogiri was giving him an expectant look. (How someone without facial expressions could give such a look was beyond him, but Tomura was far too familiar with reading Kurogiri’s more… parental expressions. After all, the warp villain had raised him.) Tomura grabbed the cup with four fingers and moved to crouch in front of the kid. Once he was sure the heroling was looking at him, Tomura took a slow sip of the tea before holding the cup out for the kid. 

 

It took long enough that Tomura’s legs were starting to cramp, but eventually the kid’s tears slowed and they reached a shaking hand out to grip the cup. Magne helped steady the kid as they drank, sure hands guiding and more gentle than Tomura had ever seen from the woman. Tomura eased himself out of his crouch, red eyes taking in every shaking movement of the child curled on the bar floor. 

 

“Preferred pronouns?” Dabi grunted from behind him. Tomura wasn’t surprised, the man had always been soft for broken kids, just look at Toga. 

 

“T-they/them.” The kid stuttered out. Not out of fear of being surrounded by villains, two of which had already attempted to kill them and their friends, but it seemed more like general anxiety to Tomura. 

 

Did this kid even realize they could kill them? Did they even care?

 

Tomura sighed and scratched at his neck, face set in a harsh scowl. “We have some questions—“

 

“No.”

 

“No!?” Tomura was sure Spinner and Dabi were about to crack a rib from not laughing. Even Magne and Compress looked far too amused for his liking. Damn kid was turning his own league against him. 

 

The kid in question just shrugged, leaning away from Magne to wrap their arms around their legs, resting their chin on their knees. “When you think about it, it's kind of a lose-lose scenario for me. If I tell you and you kill All Might or some of my class then I’m not much of a hero am I? But if I tell you and you get arrested or killed then I lose the only people who have ever accepted me.” 

 

Well fuck when the kid put it like that. 

 

“You can kill me if you want, but I really don’t see a way I win here either way.” 

 

Tomura blinked. The rest of the league blinked. They all stared at the broken child curled on the bar floor. No begging for their life. No threats that the heroes would come after them. Nothing but calm acceptance of their own death. 

 

Yeah no. 

 

Dabi stepped around Tomura and offered a scarred hand to the kid. “Come on, kid. Fuck knows what you could catch sitting on the floor here. There’s a perfectly good couch right there.” 

 

The kid didn’t even hesitate as they grabbed Dabi’s hand, hands that could break them and burn them without hesitation, and let the man guide them to the couch. They sat like a doll, eyes blank as they stared into the teacup that sat cradled on their scarred hands. 

 

Dabi met his eyes over the kids head, frowning as much as he could with his face haphazardly stapled together. Tomura shrugged. He didn’t know how to fix the damn kid. 

 

“Contact, proximity, or space?” Compress broke through their stare off, making both Dabi and Tomura blink and turn to him with a scowl. The man had taken off his usual masks and was crouched down a few feet away from the kid. 

 

The kid blinked at the question, eyebrows drawing together like Compress had asked them to do rocket science as they pieced through the question. Finally they flicked up two fingers from the cup. Compress hummed with approval. “Are you comfortable if I sit on the other end of the couch?” He didn’t move until the kid nodded, and even then every movement was slow, carefully telegraphed as if he was approaching a wild animal. 

 

(Considering the raw power the kid wielded, maybe Compress didn’t have the wrong idea. One wrong move could send the kid into a panic attack that could level the whole block.)

 

The rest of them shared bewildered looks, at a loss for what to do with the sad child they had kidnapped. 

________

 

Himiko Toga wasn’t stupid. Crazy maybe, but Dabi-nii was pretty adamant that she was only actually crazy when she didn’t get blood and she had already drank some today. 

 

That’s to say, she’s not stupid. She noticed things. 

 

With her quirk she had to notice a lot. How someone walked, how they held themselves, if they turned toward loud noises to investigate or away to run. All little things that turned into big things that could tell someone she wasn’t who she was wearing. Gold eyes caught them all and stored them away for when she could get a taste. 

 

She already knew her family down to their very bones. (She knew that Dabi could stand in a snowstorm all day and feel nothing, but if he used his quirk too much he would overheat. He would do it if she was cold though. She knew that Spinner missed his little brother, but would only take out the picture he carried if he thought he was alone. She knew Tomura always scratched more when he was losing his game. She knew Compress kept extra marbles to play with to keep himself from biting his nails. She knew Magne often left her room without doing her hair because the thought of looking in the mirror and seeing the wrong body was too much before waking up all the way. She knew Kurogiri polished the same glass over and over again on days that the clouds hung low in the sky.) 

 

So really it was only a matter of time before she noticed. 

 

Green eyes darted up every time she swayed, locked not on her but on pleats of fabric. Scarred fingers pickled and twisted at heavy ill-fitting denim, twitching every time it rubbed against what had to be sensitive skin. A ghost of a smile tugged at pale lips when Dabi whirled on Spinner fast enough to make his coat flare. 

 

She beamed, a plan forming in her mind as she skipped off to find Kurogiri. 

 

Himiko had some shopping to do.

________

 

By the time Toga returned, Izuku’s eyes were clearer, more aware of their surroundings as they leaned closer to Tomura to see the game he was playing. Unlike when the rest of them did it, Tomura had the screen angled towards them to give them a better brow of the screen. If Izuku wasn’t so cute she might have poured at the clear favoritism, but they were her favorite too. Well, them and Dabi-nii. 

 

Tomura sputtered as a shopping bag hit him square in the face. It was only Izuku’s startled half-giggle that kept him from decaying the bag on principle. (The kid needed to laugh. Their face wasn’t meant to be so sad.) From the smug smirk on Toga’s face, the little demon knew it too. 

 

“Have everyone change into those.” Tomura opened his mouth to argue, perhaps even to remind her that he was the one in charge, but the way her hand tightened around one of her knives made him decide that going along with her was the lesser evil. After all if she got Kurogiri to agree with whatever she was planning, it couldn't be that bad. 

 

She squealed in excitement and darted forward to grab Izuku’s wrist (slower than all of her other movements, giving the kid a chance to pull away if they really wanted) and dragged them off to the side room she had claimed as her own. 

 

Tomura spared a moment to mourn the loss of the kid’s sanity, before he opened the bag. 

 

Fuck. 

 

That little demon had got them suits ?!

________

 

Getting the others to change was an exercise in patience. Convincing Kurogiri not to warp Toga into the next prefecture for putting suits (nice ones even) in plastic shopping bags was nothing short of a miracle. But Tomura would reluctantly admit (in the relative safety of his own mind) that both were worth it when Toga dragged the kid back into the room and their green eyes lit up. 

 

(No he wasn’t going soft. It was just… wrong to see the kid look so empty and sad. Happiness wasn’t quite the emotion he was expected to see when the kid was faced with a room full of dressed-up villains, but it was damn better than the tears or worse the vacant eyes that didn’t seem to recognize anyone.)

 

Toga had chosen a pink and red dress for herself, the thing was more ruffle than dress, but Tomura supposed she looked fine in it, and had done her makeup in shades of pink and red, going as far as to draw two hearts on her cheek. They would have been cuter if the hearts weren’t bleeding, but it was Toga so Tomura figured it was cute enough in her eyes. (It looked like someone had reskinned her for a Valentine’s Day event but if it made her happy he wasn’t going to be the one to argue. He valued having all of his limbs attached.)

 

Izuku had changed out of the clothes they had been wearing earlier and was currently dressed in a calf-length yellow dress with the same red shoes they were wearing earlier. Toga had done their makeup too, in shades of yellow that made the kid look like they were glowing. They looked like—

 

“Well damn, Kid. She made you into a sunflower.” Dabi drawled from his place leaning back against the bar. 

 

Tomura reached over and smacked him upside the head, making him yelp and turn with an offended expression. Normally that would signal the start of a brawl that would only end when Kurogiri got sick of them and warped them into the ocean, but this time was different. 

 

This time they were interrupted by the sound of giggling, not from Toga, but from Izuku. 

 

Their face was flushed a brilliant pink as they leaned against Toga’s shoulder for balance. One hand (Toga had painted their damn nails yellow with little sunflowers like a summer reskin) was lifted to cover their pink painted mouth in a terrible attempt to muffle their laughter. Toga squawked and tried to tug their hand away before they could smear their makeup, which only really succeeded in making the kid laugh harder.

 

For the first time since Tomura  had taken them, the kid looked alive. 

 

Yeah. Him and Dabi could fight later. 

______

 

At some point, Kurogiri had put on music and the boys cleared some of the barstools making a kind of dance floor that Toga was already taking advantage of, spinning with her arms up in a way that absolutely didn’t match the playful waltz playing. 

 

They loved it. 

 

Izuku let themself to the pull of the music, smiling faintly as they swayed in time. Their mother never played music in the house; she always said she was too tired for extra noise. But how could this be considered noise ? This was art in motion. Hopeful joy encapsulated in the bouncing tones of the violin, steady warmth in the supporting cello, a symphony of emotion made all the more beautiful by how it blended in with the voices of those around them. 

 

They were so enraptured by the music, they didn’t even hear the footsteps before the teasing voice. “May I have this dance, my dear?” Opening their eyes, they saw Compress, maskless and dressed in a matching suit that the rest of the male members of the League were wearing bowing to them with one hand held out to them in invitation. 

 

Izuku blinked. “I… I don’t know how. I’m sorry.” 

 

Compress’ smile didn’t falter, nor did he drop his hand. “Darling, that’s the thing about dancing. You don’t need to know . You need only to listen and follow. If you’re truly worried about it I can do what I do with our darling Toga.” At their confused head tilt, Compress’ grin turned almost sly, but he still waited for Izuku to place their trembling hand in his before drawing them closer. So close, in fact, that their red sneakers were perched on top of his immaculate dress shoes which looked like they cost more than their mothers apartment. (Which they probably did, but it wasn’t as if Toga had paid for anything when she had gotten them their outfits.)

 

Compress kept one of their hands in his, setting the other at their waist to keep them steady, and then they were off. 

 

Dancing like this almost felt like flying. 

 

They didn’t have to worry about doing the wrong thing or stepping on Compress’ toes. Instead they could rest their head against the man’s suited shoulder and listen to the steady drumbeat of his heart and deep humming melding with the music. 

 

It may have been one song or five, but eventually Toga’s excited squeal broke through Izuku’s thoughts and she was tugging at the arm they had resting on Compress’ shoulder. 

 

“My turn my turn! Compress can’t hog you all night when I’m the one that got you your pretty dress!”

 

“Lead on then, Toga,” They laughed with a sweeping gesture of their arm. 

 

She cackled and tugged them into a wild spin by their wrist (gentle with the scarred skin like no one else ever was) “Himiko! We’re friends right, Zuzu?” What else could Izuku do but grin and nod?

 

Dancing with Himiko wasn’t soft and soothing like dancing with Compress. It was a flurry of motion, wild and free like the crackle of lightning when they activated One For All. They were laughing and tripping over each other with each wild turn, yellow and red skirts swirling around each other until Izuku couldn’t remember where they ended and she began. 

 

The others were laughing by the time they slowed to a stop, clapping and cheering so loud it felt like the whole bar was shaking. 

 

Stumbling away from Himiko, chest bursting with dizzy laughter, it was no surprise that they tripped over their own feet. What was a surprise was the scaled hand that caught their elbow and tugged them against a muscled chest. Still giggling, they looked up to beam at Spinner who was smiling down at them with sharp teeth and warm eyes. 

 

“Careful, Hero. There’s no need to fall for me to sweep you off your feet.” 

 

Izuku snorted at the cheesy line and shoved Spinner’s shoulder, who only laughed and used the momentum to pull them back onto the floor. Unlike Himiko and compress, Spinner was all animal grace and movements calculated enough to almost seem effortless. 

 

Whereas dancing with Compress felt like flying and Himiko felt like lightning, dancing with Spinner was like being under Uraraka’s quirk. Weightless. Floating. Effortless. 

 

It helped that Spinner lifted them with every swell of the music, twirling them in the air as they shrieked in delight. Spinner kept them in motion until the last notes of the song died away, both of their chests heaving with breathless laughter as they clung to each other. 

 

A scarred hand dropped on Spinner’s shoulder as the next song started. “Quit hogging the Sunflower, Raphael.”

 

“That’s a turtle. It’s not even the purple one!” Spinner sputtered, red eyes narrowing in playful irritation.

 

Dabi’s Smokey voice was tinged with laughter as he answered, “And that’s my dance partner, back off.” Izuku tipped their head back as they laughed at the two’s bickering and would have fallen if Dabi didn’t step up behind them with a teasing smirk and blue eyes flickering like blue flames. 

 

Izuku was hauled off in another dance full of smokey laughter and playful twirls and dips that left them lightheaded with laughter. Even with the scars and staples covering him, Dabi’s hands were always gentle as he led them from one motion to the next. From the sure placement of his hands and confident, playful grin Izuku had a feeling that he had done this before. 

 

With Himiko maybe? Or another sibling?

 

Just before the song ended, those blue eyes flicked over their shoulder and rolled hard enough Izuku wouldn’t be surprised if the man had given himself a headache, but even so he led Izuku in another dramatic twirl, sending them directly into another pair of arms. They knew from the cooler temperature and growing shadows before they even looked up to see flickering yellow eyes, but they were still delighted to see Kurogiri looking down at them. 

 

“May I have this dance, Izuku Midoriya?”

 

“Just Izuku, Giri.” They corrected with a gentle smile. Midoriya was a distant memory. Midoriya was sad and quirkless and broken. Midoriya was a boy left behind on a rooftop by the man who had crushed his dreams in his hand. Midoriya didn’t fit here, and Izuku didn’t have room inside themself to carry him any longer. Not with champagne bubbles of delight flooding every inch of them. 

 

The mist around Kurogiri’s eyes flickered as he nodded. “Just Izuku,” He agreed before they were off again. 

 

Kurogiri danced like he was reading a manual. Perfect box steps blending together as they twirled around the room. Out of all of them, Izuku thought this was the one that would help them remember how to dance later when they were alone in their All

Might Shrine of a room, desperately searching for a bit of the happiness that was overflowing from them now. 

 

They slowed to a stop, but Kurogiri didn’t release Izuku as they swayed forward against his chest, all the exercise starting to catch up to them. But they were determined to get two more dances, so their eyes scanned the bar, catching on blue hair and red eyes. 

 

“Tomu! Dance with me!”

 

Tomura scowled at the nickname, but he did push off the bar with a defeated sigh. Izuku’s heart warmed as Tomura triple checked the gloves over his middle fingers before he reached out for them. Unlike the others, except perhaps Himiko, it took him a few seconds and a few muttered curses to find the correct position, and even then his grip was a touch too tight and his shoulder just a little too stiff. 

 

Not that it mattered. Just like it didn’t matter when they stepped on each other’s red shoes. Just like it didn’t matter when they looked up into each other’s eyes and burst into laughter. 

 

The dance wasn’t perfect but it might have been Izuku’s favorite. By the time they finally broke apart from each other faith matching sets of bruised toes, the rest were laughing too, warm and teasing and so welcoming it made the aching in their scars ease for the first time since the entrance exam. 

 

Izuku was breathless when they stopped in front of Magne and offered her their hand. She huffed a laugh and shook her head. “You’re dead on your feet, kid. I’ll get the first dance next time, yeah?”

 

They pouted at her. She only laughed again and tugged them onto the couch next to her. Izuku fell in a pile of limbs and sunshine bright giggles. Cuddles were just as nice as dancing after all, so they snuggled in, and rested their head on Magne’s shoulder. 

 

She smelled like vanilla and metal. Izuku thought she smelled like home. 

 

“Mags?” They asked, pausing to yawn so wide that their jaw cracked. Distantly they thought they heard Spinner coo at them, but he was quickly shushed by three other voices.

 

“Yeah, kid?” She hummed, running work-calloused fingers through their hair in a way that made them feel all heavy and fuzzy. 

 

“Is this what having a family is supposed to be like?” The bar went dead silent other than the music. It was an innocent question, but one that held the weight of worlds. Because they didn’t know. 

 

None of them knew. 

 

Yet Magne only pressed a smile into green curls and hummed. “Yeah, kid. This is a family. Your family if you want it.”

 

Izuku nodded slowly, green eyes already closed as they drifted. “You’re a good sister, Mags. I’m glad I got to have a family for a little while.” They were asleep before she could answer. 

 

Around the bar seven faces were set with determination. Seven sets of eyes were locked on the sleeping form on the couch. Seven minds in agreement without a single word spoken. 

 

For this kid, for each other, they could be a family. Even if the whole world turned against them, they would still have each other. 

________

 

Izuku woke slowly to soft voices and purposely quiet movements. Not at home then. Their mom would purposely stomp and slam things if she thought they were being lazy, which to her was being asleep any time she was not. It took a few moments to connect the smell of smoke and jasmine tea, but when they finally did tears pricked behind their still closed eyelids. 

 

They were in the bar. They were safe. They were with family, a small, broken, fucked up little family full of killers and villains, but a family nonetheless. 

 

They had to leave. 

 

A sob ripped from between their lips before they could bite it back, and the quiet voices stopped. Izuku froze, curling in on themself and covering their head with their arms. 

 

There were quick footsteps and the sound of a warp gate, before Dabi’s voice came from across the room, warm and rough and smoke-tinged in all the best ways. Quieter, they could hear Compress lecturing Himiko and Spinner on the proper way to assist with panic attacks and running at the person having one was not the best idea. 

 

“Hey, Sunflower. Do you want contact, proximity or space?”

 

Words were hard. Pressing and twisting against their throat with razor-sharp claws, shredding and blocking all at once. They couldn’t speak. Couldn’t breathe, but —

 

They made grabby hands in the direction they had heard Compress’ voice from. Quick, but calm footsteps crossed the room in a few strides before a hand was gently resting against their tangled curls. 

 

“Izuku? Bunny, can you hear me?” He waited for a shaky nod of confirmation before humming in approval. “Good, sweet. I’m going to put your hand on my chest and I want you to try and match my breathing. It’s okay if you can’t at first, we have plenty of time here.” 

 

With their hand pressed to the deceptively strong chest and gloved fingers carefully carding through their hair, it was easier to remember how to breathe. It took several minutes, broken with harsh sobs and gentle words, but Izuku finally slumped forward into Compress’ check with another hollow sob. 

 

“Do you want to speak about it, sweet, or would you prefer a distraction?” 

 

Izuku could have cried all over again at the ability to choose. They had never had a choice. The only choice they had ever made for themself had led to years of mocking and burns and harsh hits. To apologies and dead eyes telling them to be realistic. To being forced into a role that didn’t fit with pronouns that cut like knives every time they fell from well-intentioned mouths. 

 

The only choice they had ever made would take them away from these people who cared

 

“I don’t want to go back,” Izuku whispered at last, rubbing at their burning green eyes and refusing to look at any of them, “but I have to.”

 

Unsurprisingly the room burst with shocked exclamations and denials, but Compress only gripped their elbows with a gentle squeeze before asking the only question that mattered: “Why?”

 

The hero student bit their lip and looked up into Compress’ face before looking around him to meet Tomura’s calculating gaze. 

 

“How much do you know about All Might and his quirk?” 

 

Tomura blinked at them before he slowly nodded. “Enough to know he isn’t the first with it. The rest I can assume.”

 

Izuku nodded and sighed, looking down at the red shoes lined up beside the couch. Shoes with a ‘Q’ stitched into the side. Shoes that were damning for anyone who knew what to look for. 

 

“I was born quirkless.” They squeezed their eyes tightly shut so they wouldn’t have to see the League’s reactions. “Toe joint, appendix, and all. I even get goosebumps. All I could ever remember wanting was to be a hero. It didn’t matter that my dad left, or my friend since infancy hated me, or even that my mom wouldn’t look me in the eyes. All that mattered was that I was going to save people and be a beacon of hope to those who needed it most. Not the ones with flashy quirks who were born to be great, but for the little quirkless kid who never quite fit in no matter how hard they tried.” 

 

A bitter laugh escaped them as they shook their head. “It wasn’t a popular opinion. I was ignored at best and used as human quirk practice at worst every day since my ‘diagnosis’ at five. Ten months before the entrance exam for UA it all came to a head. My home room teacher announced to the class that I had applied to UA along with my fr… with another student who had all but claimed to be the only applicant from our school. He has a strong quirk. One perfect for heroics. It was only natural that he would get in, but he wanted the glory of being singular. 

 

“They hurt me. Worse than they normally would I mean. He told me that I the only way for me to become a hero was to ‘take a swan dive off a roof and pray’ before he threw my stuff out the window.” Compress’ hands tightened on their elbows again. Not tight enough to hurt, but almost as if the man was reminding himself that Izuku was still there. Across the room there was a strangled sob, followed by Dabi’s low voice speaking gentle assurances. 

 

“I was later going home than I normally would be, so there was no one around when I took my normal route under a bridge. I… A villain made of sludge came up from the sewer grate and grabbed me To use as a disguise. He… he called me his hero as he slid down my throat. I remember that before I passed out.” 

 

There was a dark curse and Izuku finally opened his eyes to see Dabi smoking as he glared down at the bar. Himiko was next to him with tears running down her face. Spinner had grabbed Magne’s hand in his own and they were clutching at each other so tightly Izuku almost expected there to be bruises. There was a pile of dust and liquid next to Tomura’s clenched fist that might have once been a glass of water. It warmed their heart a little to see the others upset not at them but for them. Outraged at what had been done to them long before any of them had met. 

 

“I woke up to All Might smacking me. He had apparently punched the villain apart and put him in a soda bottle. He… I… He signed my notebook and jumped away, not noticing that I had grabbed on to his pant leg.” Himiko let out a strangled sound that might have been a sob or a scream and would have slammed a knife into the bar top of a warp gate hadn’t appeared just in time. She hissed at Kurogiri whose eyes had narrowed even as the mist that made up his face flickered in agitation. 

 

Without thinking, they held out a hand to her, and the girl scrambled across the room in a blur, not stopping until she had ticked herself under their arm on the opposite side of Compress. Izuku smiled weakly and rested their head against hers. 

 

“He tried to kick me off midair. It was only when I pointed out that the fall would kill me that he landed on a roof to yell at me. I didn’t care. I… I just wanted an answer I guess. Part of me already knew what he would say, it’s what everyone always said, but it still hurt when he told me to ‘be realistic, young man!’” Himiko growled softly next to them and pressed closer. 

 

“Then he left.”

 

Magne stood with a screech of her stool. Her eyes met theirs with bubbling hot rage only fueled by the tears rolling down her cheeks. “On the roof? He left you on the roof the same day that little fuck told you—“ she broke off in a sob. Dabi shoved back from the bar just in time to not catch it on fire. Blue flames flickered over clenched fists and up scarred arms in a beautiful display of fury. 

 

It struck Izuku then. 

 

They cared. All of them cared. They had told each of them about the darkest most broken parts of themself, and they responded not with hatred and harsh touches, but with righteous fury on their behalf. None of them saw the fragile disaster their mother saw. None of them saw the shattered disappointment their father did. None of them saw something to fix and mold into the shape that would bear suit them like All Might did. They saw Izuku. Every inch of them. 

 

When was the last time someone cared? Before their diagnosis probably. 

 

“Yeah… yeah he did.” They said at last. There was more to the story, all of them had to know it, but the important part had already been said. (Maybe one day Izuku would tell them more, confirm what Tomura had already guessed, but for now they were done with that horrible day.)

 

“I’m officially a late bloomer, for what that’s worth. But I’m almost certain that never made it into my actual files. Mr. Aizawa is harsh, but I don’t think he would be the type to miss that my quirk activation date was the same day as the entrance exam where I shattered three of my limbs. He’s… different from the others. Present Mic too. They… see more I guess. They don’t just let Kac- kids with strong quirks run wild and do what they want. They protect us.” Izuku shrugged and rubbed at his raw and aching eyes. 

 

There was a shuffling noise, then Tomura was behind Compress holding out what looked like Kurogiri’s handkerchief with now gloved fingers. “Not that I don’t appreciate a tragic backstory as much as the next villain, but why does that mean you have to go back? Sounds like a good reason to join my party if you ask me.” 

 

A bitter smile twisted at Izuku’s lips, and they let their head fall back against the couch so they were staring at the cracked ceiling of the bar. “Isn’t it obvious? If I don’t go back, All Might was right all along. A quirkless person really can’t be a hero.” 

 

And that was the crux of it. Even though Izuku had a quirk now, it wasn’t theirs. It raced along their bones like lightning begging to rip free, wild, untamed, agonizing, but it didn’t belong to them. They held it, barely, in a body not meant to contain it, and each time they used it they shattered another part of themself beyond repair. Recovery Girl was right. Eventually their body wouldn’t be able to heal from the damage they were inflicting. 

 

They had been given a quirk but in their heart they were still quirkless. 

 

The quirk didn’t get rid of the scars. The quirk didn’t make other shoes fit. The quirk didn’t get rid of their appendix. 

 

They still had something to prove. 

 

“I… I don’t want to leave because I don’t want to lose all of you, but I need to leave or he’s right. It’s not fair.” 

 

Himiko pressed closer to their side and Compress tangled his fingers back in their hair. 

 

“Who said you had to lose us?”

 

Izuku blinked up at Tomura, and raised an eyebrow. “Uh, Tomu. Don’t know if you remember or not, but you hate heroes. Like, tried to murder my teacher and most of my class hate heroes. What part of me being a hero and refusing to give you information means that we’re not going to fall apart?”

 

“Fuck the heroes. Fuck the villains who say we can’t have our own baby hero. Fuck everyone I don’t care!” Tomura hissed, pushing to his feet and scratching at his throat with both hands. Izuku was on their feet before they could think, skirting around Compress to grab his wrists and tug them away from the abused skin. 

 

Red met green. The weight of twelve lives weighed heavy on their shoulders. The fate of a war neither of them had ever really agreed to start hung in the balance. Two men had saved them. Two men had ruined them. 

 

Maybe it was time they ruined two hundred years of expectations. 

 

In a hazy world inbetween, a young man with white hair and a beautiful woman beamed at the ninth, hands gripped tightly together as tears flooded down their cheeks. In a warehouse across the city, what was once a man whispered a name forgotten to all but him. 

 

There was more than one way to kill a monster, and no one knew that better than the monsters themselves. 

 

“Fuck the heroes,” Izuku echoed, tears running down their cheeks. 

 

“Fuck the villains,” Tomura, no, Tenko answered. 

 

They would build something so much greater. 

________

 

Izuku stared at the door to Mr. Aizawa’s office weeks later with steel in their spine and shoulders loose. It was how Dabi stood when he was about to start a fight with Tomura. It was how Himiko stood when she was preparing to throw a knife at one of the boys. It was how Spinner stood when he was practicing with his sword. 

 

Confident. Ready. Everything Izuku hoped they could be. 

 

The burner phone sitting heavy with the weight of their family’s dreams in their pocket helped. It was off, and would remain so until they were far away from UA and Nezu’s all seeing eyes, but the reminder that they were there, that they would come if they called was an Atlas-weight off their shoulders. 

 

“What is it, Problem Child?” The voice that came through the cracked door was low and rough, but it was in the same way that Dabi and Tomura’s were. Concern and affection hidden behind sarcasm and scowls. Problem Child wasn’t in insult as some of their other teachers might have meant it to be, but a declaration, a claiming. 

 

Izuku Midoriya was Aizawa Shouta’s Problem Child, and if the man didn’t want to have them around he would have expelled them months ago. 

 

(Tomura was the same way. Complaining and sniping at the League constantly, but every move was calculated with all of their best interests in mind. He would never put Magne in a place to make her uncomfortable, never deny Himiko blood, never force Dabi anywhere near Endeavor before he was ready. He cared for them all and hid it behind a screen of insults and threats of Decay.)

 

“Mr. Aizawa, there’s something I need to speak to you about.” 

 

There was the sound of a chair rolling back, then the door was opening to show concerned black eyes and a frown tugging at the teacher’s lips. 

 

“This isn’t about school.” 

 

Not a question, but Izuku nodded anyway then shrugged. “It’s not, but it does involve people in the school. Is now a good time to talk.” 

 

Those eyes took in every inch of them, from the new healthy shine to their curls (and who knew they even made shampoo and conditioner specifically for curls, certainly not Izuku until Kurogiri pressed the bag into their hands) to the small eyeliner heart under one eye that was nearly hidden by their freckles (drawn painstakingly by Himiko, and Magne stressed the importance of small, safe ways for Izuku to express their gender identity until they were safe to come out fully) to the perfectly tied tie (Compress and Kurogiri’s soft words and gentle encouragement as they guided them through the steps until they could do it in their sleep, just as kind and patient as Izuku had always imagined a dad would be.)

 

They had changed. They would change more after this conversation. 

 

“Alright, Problem Child. Come in.”

Notes:

Me: it’s going to be short
Me *reaching for a red nose*: Just a quick little one shot
Me *pulling in a rainbow wig*: I definitely won’t get super attached to the verse
Me *stepping into massive shoes*: I wont have a two chapters of the third installment written before I even finish this one

Anyway. Let me know what you guys think.

Series this work belongs to: