Chapter 6: The Gentle Lift
Izuku fidgeted outside the door to the Tokage's shop. It was Sunday, two weeks after the villain attack that had left the building in shambles. The store was closed for that day, but that didn't bother the Midoriyas. They were there for more personal reasons.
He glanced down at his left side. Izuku had left his new prosthetic at home, wanting to feel as authentic as possible. His green button-up was standard except for his left sleeve, which was cut short and sown at the end. It made it less of a short sleeve and more of a pocket for his arm.
Inko was also in a button-up but was sporting a purple pencil skirt. They had decided on business casual. She glanced at Izuku.
"Are you sure you want to do this? We'll be stuck with them for a few hours. I know you might get uncomfortable." Inko asked. Izuku shook his head at her worries.
"We're their guests, mom. If I need a break, it's not like they'll hold me hostage." Izuku replied.
With that, Izuku gave a firm knock on the shop window he hadn't shattered two weeks ago. He still flushed whenever he thought of it. Across the inside of the store, Izuku saw Mrs. Tokage hop down the emergency ladder. Walking over to the front door, she greeted them with a smile.
"Hiya, Midoriya. Ms. Midoriya too, of course. You two look so lovely today! You didn't have to go all out for us, this is a gift!" Mrs. Tokage said, bowing and shaking their hands. Inko shook her concerns away.
"No no no, you can't say that and come down to greet us in such a pretty little dress!" Inko said. Mrs. Tokage laughed and invited them in. Izuku looked around, a little mesmerized.
The shop was almost back to 100%. While there were still the occasional bullet hole and broken window, the interior had been cleaned up. Izuku could barely recognize the place; it had been remodeled to the point that he couldn't even remember how he fumbled around after he broke in.
The Tokages might not have realized it, but that took a weight off his shoulders. He had come here expecting to block out most of the setting. Without obvious reminders of being shot at, his mind was at peace. Izuku was happy to take in the coziness of the shop without worrying about dodging bullets. As they walked through, he took a peek at the ladder.
"H-hey, Mrs. Tokage, what about your stairs? Do you guys just not use them? I didn't use them because I didn't go into your back room, but I a-assume you have some." Izuku asked. Mrs. Tokage shrugged.
"They're old and we don't use them too much. All our quirks make it so that climbing ladders is easier. I'm ambidextrous and my joints never swell up or feel pain. My husband has minor telekinesis, which he uses to reinforce his body. Setsuna can fly, obviously." She said. Izuku's eyes widened; he was about to ask about Setsuna being able to fly, but his mom spoke up first.
"Oh, minor telekinesis? I've got something similar. Izuku… well he's all over the place, as you saw, hehe." Inko said. Izuku cringed a little but nodded.
They all climbed the ladder, with Izuku helping his mother to her feet at the top. Surrounding them were the Tokages as they patiently waited for them to stand up and adjust themselves accordingly. When Inko was done making sure her skirt wasn't off-center, the two parties made a proper greeting.
About a week ago, after Nighteye's apology, the Tokages had invited them for a small dinner. This surprised him, as Izuku hadn't exactly done what he set out to do. He hadn't heroically escorted them out into the alleyway away from the danger. In reality, they had dragged Izuku down the alley whilst he was bleeding out.
They had insisted, however, that he was a hero. He hadn't felt like one until they pointed out he tackled a live gunman when he threatened their family. Izuku still didn't feel like a hero, especially with a bullet in his leg, but he accepted the dinner.
Now, here he was, sitting at the same table in the same room he had tackled a gunner in. It was odd, but it wasn't so jarring that it set him off. Besides several "thank yous" when he first arrived, nobody had overwhelmed him with their presence. His mom might've warned them, but Izuku liked to think they were just being mindful. That was, except for Setsuna.
The green-haired girl had snatched the seat next to Izuku from his mother and had been pelting him with questions.
"What school do you go to?" Setsuna asked.
"I'm homeschooled." Izuku replied.
"Why?" Setsuna asked.
"I-I didn't want to be around kids my age." Izuku replied.
"I'm a kid your age. Do you want to be around me?" Setsuna asked. Izuku blushed a little bit.
"Y-you're fine, as long as I don't get overwhelmed," Izuku replied.
"How do I not-" Setsuna was cut off by her mother.
"Setsuna. He is our guest." Mrs. Tokage said, soft but also firm. Her shoulders slumped and she leaned away from him and settled back into her seat. Without any other conversation going, Setsuna's lack of questions made the dinner feel awkward.
Izuku pondered her questions. They all seemed very normal, but there was a lack of authenticity. Like she was holding some questions backed. Finishing his noodles, Izuku glanced at her. Their eyes barely caught the other before Setsuna directed them into her half-finished soup.
She had been looking at his arm.
Ah, Izuku thought. She hadn't known about his disability. The prosthetic worked wonders, he thought. He looked over towards Setsuna's mother and shook his head.
"No, it's ok. I-I broke into your house, she can ask anything she wants." Izuku said. Across the table, Mr. Tokage choked back a laugh. His wife did a poor attempt at hiding her giggles, however, so the table burst into laughter.
Izuku hadn't been joking, but he wasn't going to say anything. He laughed with them, despite himself. Izuku made a gesture to everybody as the laughter died down, pointing at them and then himself.
"Ask away. Just give me a little break afterward, please." Izuku said. With polite smiles on everybody's faces, Mrs. Tokage was the first to ask a question.
"Why were you out in the streets in the first place? We didn't get a good look at the fighting at the time, but the news report made it seem really bad." She asked. Izuku pondered this for a moment.
The news report hadn't mentioned him in the slightest, probably because his mother asked for him to be unnamed. They hadn't covered him being thrown from a flying car or him using his quirk in public. On that end, nobody seemed to mention it to him. He guessed nobody wanted him to get in trouble since he had already been shot and all.
"Well, I was with one of my mentors. We kinda were in an argument when his car got destroyed by a villain. After that, I realized what was going on in your store and tried to come help." Izuku said. Finishing his sentence, he bit into some pork that the Tokages cooked. It fell apart in his mouth perfectly; it took everything he had not to moan in delight. The Tokages, for not owning a restaurant, knew their way around a kitchen. Setsuna spoke up.
"Mentor? I thought you were home-schooled?" She asked. Izuku paused, unsure of how to respond. He put his fork down, having finished all his food.
"Well, I-I have a-a few connections to heroes, right? I decided I wanted to live my life with honor, in service to others. So I got a mentor to become a hero." Izuku only faintly recalled that he had just emulated All Might's final words to them, but he ignored it. This wasn't a time to get down in the dumps. He wasn't sure what he expected as a response, but he hadn't expected the absolute silence he received.
His mother was giving him a pained look, but it was a familiar one. It was her signature look of regretful pride that she wore whenever he said something dramatic. The other looks he received were foreign, however.
Across the board, the Tokages looked… concerned. In awe. Izuku didn't know how to react to this response, so he kept quiet.
Dinner wrapped up within a few minutes. After cleaning up, the Tokages invited them to stay a while longer, which the Midoriya's agreed to. The adults and the children split apart naturally, with Inko and Setsuna's parents taking the living room and Midoriya and Setsuna taking her room. As Izuku walked behind Setsuna into her room, he flushed.
Being in a girl's room was unimaginable to Izuku. Even before the incident, Izuku didn't talk to girls. They either avoided him, bullied him, or interacted with him minimally if they had to. He understood why, of course, but that didn't make it better for him in any way.
Now put into a position where he was with a girl in her room, he didn't know what to do. So, he just stood awkwardly on the threshold and watched as she sat down on her bed. Sweat began to trickle down his back and he wondered what he should do. Setsuna's voice caught his attention.
"What are you doing? There's a desk over there, you can sit there if you like." She said. Izuku, still feeling uncomfortable, accepted her offer and robotically made his way over to the office chair. Sitting in it, he found it to be more comfortable than his own. He continued to not say anything as he began to listen to the clock tick by on the wall.
Eventually, Setsuna sighed, bored.
"Hey, Midoriya. You know you called me Setsuna, right?" She said. Izuku's face went bright red in a flash. He remembered when he had been leaking smoke and asked her to scout the alleyway in a hurry.
"O-oh crap, I'm sorry! That was way too personal, it's just that I-I didn't want to confuse you and your parents-"
"Oh please, I don't care. I kind of like it, to be honest. I just thought it was funny since you're so awkward." Setsuna said, giggling. Izuku's shoulders drooped.
"O-oh yeah. I-I am pretty awkward…" He knew he struggled around people, even more so these days, but hearing it was a slap in the face. He leaned a little deeper into the comfortable chair. Setsuna looked at him, realizing her mistake.
"Oh. It's not a bad thing, y'know. You… really were cool during the attack." Izuku looked back at her, confused.
"Cool? I appreciate it, but don't…" Whatever Izuku was about to say died in his throat as Setsuna walked over to him. Grabbing his hand, she hauled him to his feet, unapologetically pulling him into a hug.
Izuku felt like his face was on fire as Setsuna's arms wrapped around him. He was so out of his depth that he didn't stop her or hug her back; he just stood there. She didn't pull away. In his ear, he heard a small sniffle.
"Y-you… you jumped on that jerk the second he saw me and my mom… I would've lived if I got shot because I can heal, but my mom… you saved her. You really were heroic, dude." Setsuna said, stifling her tears. Izuku was frozen, but slowly, ever so carefully, he placed his palms on her back. He didn't say anything; he couldn't.
"What made you come to us? What were you thinking when you decided to try and help? Was it because I helped you get your stupid sunshine soap? Is that why you… you risked your life for us? For me?" Setsuna begged. Izuku's head began to swim from the stimuli and emotion rampaging through his body.
"I… didn't think. I did it because… no one else would." Izuku muttered. Down beneath his pants, he could feel the stitches in his leg from the bullet wound burn. After some time, Setsuna pulled away. Her eyes were red.
"Izuku," Setsuna began. He felt his heart skip a beat at his first name. "You asked me if I wanted to be a hero when we first met, right? I said I wasn't sure, but after what you did…"
"I think I'm going to be a hero."
[x]
Izuku felt great as he prepared for bed. The dinner with the Tokages was delicious, and after Setsuna and Izuku's heartfelt moment, they just hung out for a while. It was nice, much nicer than Izuku had expected. He'd never really had any mutual friends, so it was a novel experience.
He was sitting on his bed now, practicing Smokescreen. Ever since he had gotten out of the hospital, he could use the quirk at will. That being said, him "using the quirk" was just him turning it off and on again with his window open.
It was still an odd feeling to actually have a quirk. Of course, he had One for All, but he was still a few years off of being able to practice it. Smokescreen was a quirk that didn't strain his body in the same way the strength enhancement did, so he could freely use and practice it.
Izuku had started a new Heroes Journal recently, number 5. He had dedicated a chapter's length to thinking about how to use the quirk, its limitations, and a training guide for when Nighteye or Gran Torino weren't instructing him.
En had been right, Izuku decided. The quirk wasn't helpful if Izuku overused it. If he, or his allies, couldn't see through his smoke, then it would be more harmful than good. Izuku had spent hours daydreaming scenarios on how he could fight somebody with the smoke. His best ideas were concealing his concise movements and sectioning off and dividing groups of villains. It wasn't extensive, but without knowing the power's full extent, it was all he had.
He wasn't skilled enough to implement either yet, but he figured it would be good to brainstorm early.
Izuku coughed, realizing he had let Smokescreen go off unattended for too long as he zoned out. He cut off the quirk before turning up his fan. Deeming that his practice had been sufficient for the night, he decided to sleep.
Izuku fluffed his pillows and adjusted his blankets as he slipped under the sheets. He turned off his bedside lamp, and let his head hit the pillow.
He closed his eyes, but instead of drifting off to sleep, Izuku felt his mind and body be vacuumed far, far away from his bed.
In a panic, Izuku opened his eyes. He was back in the throne room of One for All.
"Oh, you're back already?" En said, Izuku having been dropped at his feet. Izuku, here for the second time and consequently less surprised, nodded. He paused, intrigued that he could nod.
Izuku took stock of his body. Two weeks ago, when he had been inside One for All (which was still weird, he decided), he had been nothing more than eyes and a left arm. Now though, his head was fully formed down to his jaw, which was still missing. He had generated pieces of his neck and a shoulder, connecting his head and his arm on a tiny strip of flesh.
Now able to maneuver with more comfort, he got up. He didn't have legs and was consequently floating, but when he moved around, he felt the natural rhythm and bounce of walking on two feet. En, alongside the other people, left him by his lonesome as he explored.
The throne room looked like it had been repaired somewhat since his last visit. He wasn't sure if this was because time had passed, or because he had gotten a bit better with Smokescreen. That thought gave Izuku pause.
He really was in a mental construct of his quirk. It wasn't some fever dream, it was much too vivid. Izuku wondered if other people with quirks had this; he'd never heard of them being talked about, but maybe they were extremely private.
As he wandered around aimlessly, he remembered the last thing he saw in the throne room. The man who had given him his quirk. A man who Izuku had killed. Izuku marched back over to the round table, where the previous holders were sitting in silence. The eighth chair was still empty.
Izuku cut into his palm again, the same way he had communicated last time, and smeared a question on the pristine table.
Where A M?
"Where A M? Do you mean Toshi?" The buff woman replied. Izuku reminded himself that All Might's name was Toshinori as he nodded. The woman looked at him, sympathy overflowing from her gaze. It was impressive, to be honest, the amount of compassion this woman exuded.
Izuku underlined Where. The woman shook her head.
"He's… here. But he's hiding. We see the world through your eyes, kid, and we all know how you feel. Toshinori… his guilt is almost as strong as yours." The woman said. Izuku felt his left hand tighten. He wanted to ask so many questions, but his lack of a mouth denied him that privilege.
"Nine, don't think it's because he doesn't think you're doing a good job at using One for All. None of us were sure at first, but we felt what you felt when you tried to save the Tokages. We accept you, even Toshinori. His guilt… lies elsewhere." The woman said. Izuku was tempted to underline Where again, but he held off.
Maybe it wasn't so bad that All Might was hiding, Izuku thought. The previous holders were right, he wasn't ready to see him. And if Izuku was pulled into this little world every time he fell asleep, then not seeing his greatest sin would be a good thing.
Izuku looked around; he didn't feel the call of consciousness pulling at his phantom body. He'd be here for a while, he could tell. Across the table, En was looking at him as if he had the same idea as Izuku. Smiling as best he could without a mouth, Izuku cut into his palm once more.
Teach me Smokescreen.
[x]
Gran Torino took a sip of his lemonade as he watched Izuku and Nighteye. The two were doing basic hand-to-hand combat with occasional breaks for strategy. He was just overseeing the process today, as his back felt extra sore this morning. Sorahiko had spent much of last night patrolling his home city for crime, and couldn't be bothered to play with the two youngsters today.
That wasn't to say he wasn't paying attention. Nighteye always had the capacity to be a great instructor, but it hadn't shown until he had accepted Izuku. Since then, Nighteye had redesigned his schedule so that instead of only showing up once or twice a week, he now watched over every lesson. With Nighteye no longer being a hardass, Izuku was much more receptive to the man's teachings. That is to say, Izuku was now learning a mile a minute.
Izuku still wasn't fit enough to contend with either himself or Nighteye, but he was getting closer. Once he hit puberty and they could begin training his strength enhancement, he did not doubt that Izuku would surpass them in raw stats. What was important was drilling technique and skill into the boy while they still had time.
"You're in an open area!" Nighteye called out to Izuku. The boy's body began to emit smoke; enough to cover most of his movements, but not to overtake his face. This was the primary drill that Nighteye had chosen for the past week.
Izuku emitted smoke, Nighteye would spar him, and then he would force Izuku to change the smoke's output levels. The exercise did several things at once, and it worked like a charm. Izuku could practice the basics of Smokescreen, hone his hand-to-hand, and learn to fight with his quirk all in one motion. Compound exercises like this were the lifeblood of his training, but they also had days to work on specific things.
Now that Nighteye was with them daily, the complexity of individual sessions grew. Izuku no longer ran a parkour course while dodging baseballs. Now, he had to catch every third ball while being chased by Nighteye through a more complicated course. If Izuku fell behind any pace faster than his best, Nighteye would strike at the boy.
Lord, Gran Torino thought. If his mother knew just exactly what we were doing, she might blow a fuse. He likened this training to his days as a U.A. teacher, specifically when taking the kids to summer camp. Despite how pleasant it sounds, this "summer camp" was much closer to a Bootcamp than a hiking trip.
Throughout the real school year, students honed their skills, strategy, and stem knowledge. But it was during summer camp that they were forced to exercise their quirk's real muscles. He chortled, remembering all the students he tortured. If he didn't hate kids so much, he might've liked the job enough to keep it.
Midoriya was an exception, though. Perhaps it was the trauma, but he was reserved and quiet. He was respectful to boot, and that made him the ideal student for Sorahiko. The boy was easy to teach, so much so that it was almost concerning. Izuku had natural smarts, a great work ethic, and supreme reflexes.
The only thing holding the boy back was a mix of three things. Inexperience, age, and overthinking. Unfortunately for Izuku, all three were going to take time. Eventually, though, the boy would grow into a man, which covered two of his problems.
But Torino wasn't sure how to shake out the overthinking. It pained his heart to watch the boy spar.
"No smoke!" Nighteye called out. Izuku's smoke dissipated completely.
Sorahiko watched as the two began a simple exchange. Nighteye held back the strength of his blows while making his attacks obvious before they launched. In the future, Nighteye would dial up the strength and dial down the obviousness, but the point was to get Izuku to pick up on fighting patterns.
Nighteye stood in a strong-back position, before twisting his back leg outwards and putting his weight forward. To Gran Torino's eyes, he was clearly going for a roundhouse kick. To Izuku, Nighteye was also clearly going for a roundhouse kick. No problem, right? Wrong.
Gran Torino watched as Izuku's gaze locked onto the larger man's back leg, rotating hips, and arm position. The problem came in when Izuku didn't focus on those things. Like a ping-pong ball bouncing around a tiny box, Izuku's eyes looked at everything. Sorahiko could tell that the boy knew a roundhouse kick was coming but was so busy processing everything that he couldn't react in time. Izuku received a kick to the ear, knocking him to the floor.
Izuku got back up, rubbing his ear. No blood, that was good. Probably rang like hell, though. He got back into the stance Nighteye taught him. Right side forward, arm bent tightly with a hand at chin level, feet shoulder-width apart. It was a stance meant to allow Izuku room to feel out an opponent while also preparing his weight distribution for a spinning hook opener. Of course, he wasn't supposed to use that as an opener every time, but it was a building block.
His overthinking wasn't the only problem, Sorahiko thought. He watched as Izuku bounced toward Nighteye, feet barely touching the floor as he prepared to send his own kick. Izuku got in his range to attack, but instead of kicking, he hovered there, unsure of what to do.
The boy didn't even realize that his legs were already twisted in the perfect position to emulate Nighteye's roundhouse. After half a second of hovering there, Izuku's footing switched and he went in for a palm strike. Nighteye easily batted Izuku away, unphased.
Izuku's two biggest issues, in reality, were the same. Izuku's body and instincts had the making of a legendary mixed martial artist, but his mind was holding him back. That, and the lack of a right arm.
Even though Izuku's body had already prepared for a reaction during both encounters, Izuku hesitated before choosing something else entirely. It made for an awkward, clumsy fight. Sorahiko sighed. Nighteye knew this, he knew this, and yet they didn't have a good idea on how to beat it out of him without hypnotizing the brat.
He set his drink down and got up, stretching his back to knock out any cricks and pains. Sorahiko was going to get involved with today's session, and that meant overtaxing his back. "Gran Torino" was going to have to take a vacation after this.
"Hey, let me talk to the brat for a minute." He called out to Nighteye, who was dancing around Izuku. The man nodded and made his way back to their rest area. Izuku collapsed on the sweat-filled mat he'd been on for the past thirty minutes, exhausted. Torino let the boy sit because he'd be drilling the hell out of him after he was done ranting to the boy.
"Kid. Do you know why Nighteye kicks your ass every time?" He asked. Izuku looked at him, dumbfounded.
"Hhhh, uhhhh, is it because he's twice my height with two decades of experience on me?" Izuku replied. Sorahiko didn't entertain the boy with a laugh, he just cut right to the point.
"No, it's because you're fighting more than just Nighteye. You're fighting yourself." He replied. Izuku's face was the epitome of confusion.
"Fighting… myself? Is this some kind of cheesy joke?" Izuku said. Torino shook his head.
"Your instincts are impeccable. Some of the best I've ever seen, among heroes and martial artists alike." He began. For some reason, his words seemed to have struck a nerve within the boy, as the kid's gate turned defensive.
"But you overthink things. Tell me, what ran through your mind right before you got kicked in the head a few minutes ago." Torino continued. Izuku sat in silence as he looked at his hand, contemplating the question.
"I saw his back leg move, so I thought he'd kick me. I tried to dodge, but-" Gran Torino cut him off right there. The boy wasn't even self-aware.
"No. You saw his leg move back for a kick, and decided, for whatever reason, to look at his hands, chest, face, shoulders, and just about everything else before getting kicked in the head." He said. Izuku was lost, and he could tell.
"Am I supposed to ignore everything else? Either way, I still wasn't fast enough to avoid the kick, so does it matter?" Izuku said. Gran Torino groaned.
"Stop being an idiot, brat. Nighteye!" He called over to the resting area.
"What is it?" Nighteye asked, walking back over to them. Sorahiko turned away from Izuku, who was still sitting on the floor.
"Next time you're out, go buy a camera. We need to start recording Izuku's spars and making him watch them back. I think if he sees what he's doing wrong, he'll be able to fix himself. Brat," He turned back to Izuku.
"Give me thirty pushups. I'll get back to you on your issues soon enough."
Chapter 7: The Waxing and Waning of the Moon
Well, Izuku thought, at least he didn't topple over. Picking up groceries for his mom, Izuku was stealing glances at his phone. Mr. Tokage would've been ringing up his items, but he had to take a call. Knowing the man was busy enough as is, Izuku decided to wait to check out until he finished. Maybe it was the wrong call, but the way that Mr. Tokage's shoulders seemed to relax told him he appreciated it.
So, he just sat by the counter and rewatched his most recent spar with Nighteye. Third-person perspectives were always weird; no matter how serious or focused he felt in the moment, he looked silly in retrospect. Or, Izuku mused, he just always looked silly.
He finally understood what Gran Torino had been talking about, but the flower of that understanding had by no means bloomed. His hesitation felt ingrained in him, and no matter how much he practiced, he still hadn't beaten his awkwardness. Izuku was chipping away at it, though.
He paused the video the moment Nighteye kicked him in the chest. Even though his eyes were bugging and spit was flying out of his mouth, that kick had been different. For the first time in all his sparring with Nighteye, a successful attack hadn't knocked him out. He angled his chest so the kick, while connecting, transmitted only a fraction of the force. Sure, Nighteye knocked him on his ass right after, but it was an improvement.
Dialing back the replay speed, Izuku rewound to the beginning, intending to watch his fight as closely as possible. Instead, however, all he saw when he gazed into his phone was the reflection of two floating eyeballs behind him.
"Guh!" Izuku said, his phone jerking out of his hands. Hysterical laughter echoed around him as he scrambled to catch his new phone. In his surprise, he slapped the phone even further from himself. Panic ate at him—it'd been a very recent gift and breaking it so soon would seal his doom. Covering his eyes and turning away, he resigned himself to the phone's fate. A second passed, but no sound of shattering glass cursed his ears. His fingers spread apart as he gave it a hesitant peak.
"Boo!" Setsuna said, her floating face an inch away from his. For the second time that day, Izuku squawked in fright.
"Oh, oh man, you're too easy! Haha!" She said, holding his phone in a floating hand. Izuku slumped, letting his back slide against the counter and he dropped to the floor. Groaning into his hands, Izuku gave out a pitiful whimper.
"O-oh god, Set… You're g-gonna kill me one day…" He said, his arm going limp by his side. Setsuna gave him a shark's grin, reassembling her parts into a more human shape, but not giving over his phone.
Ignoring his comment, the girl began inspecting his phone. Not bothering to stop her, Izuku focused on getting his racing heart under control. Tapping the play button, the girl began giving the video a once over, a small pout tugging on her lips when she realized it was in slow motion.
"H-hey, c-can I have that back, please—" Izuku tried to say, but the girl interrupted him as her jaw literally dropped to the floor, a squeal ripping out of her throat.
"Holy crap, Izu! Is that… is that Nighteye!? Sir Nighteye!?" The girl said, her voice coming from the floor where her mouth was. Izuku paled as he scrambled to his feet, trying to snatch his phone back from the girl, forgetting his video with Nighteye was open. His haste wasn't rewarded, as Setsuna simply popped her top from her legs and floated out of his reach, still watching the video.
"N-no! Uh… That-ts his brother!" Izuku said, wincing. Even though her face was disfigured and in multiple pieces, he could still see her expression morph into one of "you serious?"
"Dude, your mentor is Nighteye? Holy—wow. And I thought I had friends in high places." Setsuna said. Izuku's gaze whipped between her mouth on the floor and her eyes on the ceiling, having no idea which to look at.
"Friends in high places? Who do you…" Izuku said in between spikes of excitement from his video. Even though it was slow and reverbed, the action was fast enough that the sounds of grunts and successful attacks were distinct. They both winced after a particularly bad blow to his sternum. He rubbed his stomach where a purple silhouette of Nighteye's shoe had printed itself. Setsuna floated down, becoming whole once again.
"I-Uh, dang. My cousin- uh, oh wow. Did he really kick you that hard?" Setsuna asked, eyeing the exact frame where Izuku's body folded over like a piece of paper. He didn't really know what to say. Nobody had told him to keep his training a secret, but he got the impression that Nighteye would discourage him from revealing it. Stealing a glance at his phone, he sighed. She already saw it; it wasn't like telling her the bare bones of it would hurt.
"N-not really. He pulls his punches most of the time. S-still hurt though, I guess." Izuku said. The girl had an odd look on her face like she had eaten something with an unfamiliar flavor. Not bad, but it'd been out of her comfort zone.
"Do you… do that kind of thing all the time?" She asked, her eyes refusing to meet his as a stray finger swirled loops with a lock of her hair. Her voice had taken on a far-away quality, as if she was thinking about something else.
"Y-yeah. I kind of need to, otherwise I can't really be a hero, let alone a good one. Y-you know about my arm. Half the arms, double the effort. Or triple, I guess." He said, rolling his shoulder with the prosthetic for emphasis. She still didn't look at him.
"Mm. You really… really want to be a hero, huh?"
"Of course. Don't you want to, as well? I thought you said so that one time." His cheeks took on a slight flush as he said it, remembering their hug.
"...Yeah. You just… wow. Are you ok?" She asked, pulling her hair lock taut in the same movement as she turned to him. Her swamp green eyes bore into his own, their darker color reflecting a sense of seriousness. Izuku swallowed.
Another question he didn't know how to answer. He'd met her a few times since their dinner; they always had a chat or something close, but they rarely talked about heavy stuff. The most she'd even mentioned about his arm was off-handed questions about his prosthetic. She knew he had baggage, but she'd never seriously grilled him on it. It was one of the reasons why he felt so comfortable around her. Something squirmed in his chest when he thought about answering, but he pushed past it to appease her.
"W-well my therapist thinks I'm doing better, but there are… areas for improvement," Izuku admitted. Setsuna's eyebrows shot to her forehead, literally popping off her head in surprise. She stumbled back, shaking her hands out as if to stop him.
"I-I meant like, from the kick! You don't… you don't gotta talk about all that! It's fine!" A fierce blush exploded on both their faces from his oversharing. Izuku immediately began rattling off apologies and tried backing away, but only bumped back into the counter and fell on his butt.
"Oh my!" Setsuna said, trying to stop his descent but only tangling herself and falling down with him. With her added weight, Izuku's back hit the ground with double the force, knocking the air out of his lungs.
She rolled off his chest as soon as possible, panicking as Izuku coughed, struggling for air. In their mini frenzy, neither noticed as the hatch to her apartment opened and Mr. Tokage climbed down, pocketing his phone.
It wasn't that big of a deal. Not even a few seconds after Izuku finally caught his breath, he made eye contact with Setsuna. A foreign feeling of warmth flushed through him as he looked at her from below. Her worry faded as their eyes locked. Neither moved for a second—two. Three seconds went by, and they burst into giggles.
They laughed so hard that Mr. Tokage was able to get to his counter and sit down without the kids noticing him. They laughed so hard that they never noticed how Mr. Tokage watched them, bagging and checking out all of Izuku's items. They never saw the smile gracing his lips.
"Good lord, Izu. I've never seen an apology go so poorly before." Setsuna said, helping the boy to his feet. His face was still a radiant, bright red while a pink tinge still hung loosely on her cheeks.
"S-sorry! I should've been more careful."
"Nah, it's cool. I can kinda get the confusion."
"Alright. Can I have my phone back?"
"Definitely not, hold on," Setsuna said, reaching into her back pocket to pull out an identical device. The only difference from his was a cartoon Tyrannosaurus sticker covering the brand logo. She tapped their corners together.
Both phones buzzed, and Setsuna pressed a button that looked suspiciously like "Accept" on his device. She fiddled with it a bit more before handing it over, a triumphant smile on her face.
"Boo-yah! Check it." She said, pointing at the new contact.
A-Setsunasaurus. Next to it was a little pterosaur holding a littler pterosaur. Izuku looked at it like it was a 24-karot diamond. He glanced at the contact, then at her before bouncing back.
"A-are you sure? I don't really… I don't really know how to text. Or call." He said, hesitant like she would realize she made a mistake. She nodded, bouncing a little in place.
"For sure. Even if you don't, you can just practice with me!" She said, as if it wasn't the most embarrassing thing he'd ever heard. His dying blush reanimated itself, stronger than ever. He turned a little, just enough so he wasn't looking directly at her.
"S-s-s-sure… Why did you put an A next to it? Or added all those dinosaur thingies?" He said, only just able to choke out the question. Her grin morphed into her more familiar shark grin.
"I like dinos. I thought that part was obvious. Also…" She said, getting close enough to point at the A on his contact. "With that "A," I'll always be on the top of your list! Even if my name would alphabetically be at the bottom." Izuku simply could not compute that answer, inching away from the girl as if he'd explode if he stood next to her for even a second longer. What he hadn't expected, however, was to see her father watching them as he turned to the counter.
His soul left his body.
[x]
Hours later, after Izuku had retrieved his soul and had gone home, Setsuna Tokage was thinking of the perfect first text for Izuku, when she heard her door open. It'd already been ajar, but she knew how the hinges squeaked when they were at the halfway mark.
"So. The top of his list, huh?" Her father said, a smirk gracing his deceptive older features. Blood rushed up the back of her neck at the same speed that she closed the messenger app she had opened. Grabbing a stegosaurus plushie, she chucked it at her father full force.
It stopped an inch from his face, his arms never moving before it was flung back at her at half the speed. It bonked still her on the head.
"Your mom is gonna love this. She already thinks you two will be very cute very soon." He said. Setsuna groaned, miserable.
"Please… have mercy!" She asked, sliding off the bed onto her knees, hands clasped out in front of her. Her father didn't budge.
"No. This is your punishment for teasing that boy so much. Deal with it. Oh, and set the table soon. Dinner is almost ready." He said, before closing her door like he hadn't just sentenced her to death. Pouting, she grabbed her stego off the ground and squeezed it against her chest. She fingered her hair a bit, pulling and twirling it absent-minded.
That video… she couldn't get her mind off it. Even when she fell on him and when she was adding herself to his contacts. It had been replaying in the background of her mind since. He was just so… nonchalant about it. Sure, he'd stuttered and blundered his way through his admission, and sure, he'd lied and only told her a partial truth, but still. Whatever he was involved in, no matter who he was involved with, he was dedicated.
That kick would've put her out of commission for a month, let alone just bruise her a little. She got the impression that it hadn't been the first time, and it definitely wouldn't be the last. Rolling onto her side, she wondered how often he did that kind of thing, and if it was worth it to him.
She had told him she wanted to be a hero. It hadn't been a spur-of-the-moment claim. She'd been thinking about it the whole week he'd been in the hospital and the week leading up to their dinner. What he did, however, was barely imaginable. Breaking into their house just to help them, first off, had been wild. It was something she'd imagine All Might doing, not someone her age. Second, he jumped a live gunman. She'd never seen a civilian do anything like that. Really, she'd never seen a hero do it. Heroes just didn't grapple gun-wielding gangsters unless they were bulletproof, and those heroes worked higher profile jobs than street crime.
Third, he did it all with just a right arm and balls of steel. She could sort of imagine what it was like, to be an amputee. She'd misplaced her disconnected limbs a lot when her quirk first came in. She'd go hours lopsided and uncomfortable, but that was incomparable to simply not having one. Curiosity had her by the balls, but she tried to avoid asking. Her mom had made it clear that she wasn't to just up and ask him.
She had always played with the idea of being a hero, but hadn't been sure until she watched him become one. If he could do it, all without an arm or a combat quirk, then there was no excuse for her.
There was no world where she could watch him save her family and not want to be like him. To be a hero. It was simply a new fact of her life. Something uncomfortable shot through her gut.
But his passion dwarfed hers. She couldn't imagine herself ever working as hard as he seemed to. She had a good work ethic; she was at the top of her class, the leader of the Jurassic Club, and the prospective captain of the track team, assuming Maruka quit next semester like she said. She could do whatever she put her mind to. That didn't mean she liked it. In fact, she despised wasting effort on any task. She did just enough to excel and that was that.
Izuku was clearly doing more than that, and it made her stomach turn. How could she look at someone like him and tell him she had an interest in heroism when it seemed to be his whole world? He was disabled, for god's sake, and she felt inadequate next to him. She couldn't ignore what he did; jumping that gunman had made that impossible. She'd be a hero. She needed to be a hero. She just hated her own lack of passion. Her indecisiveness.
Setsuna rolled over to her other side. He was just so cool. Really, really dorky, but cool. She pressed her face into her stego, inhaling its scent. Her stomach was still doing flips when she got up; she still needed to set the table.
A frown plastered itself on her lips as she walked out into the living room, and she got the impression that it'd hang around for a while. At least, until her phone buzzed.
Hello, Tokage. Thank you for the contact. I am apologetic for leaving so soon after your father frightened me. Please enjoy the rest of your night.
The discomfort in her gut seemed to fall away as she read and reread the message. He was right about not knowing how to text. Shooting back a quick reply, she walked into the kitchen feeling much lighter.
Call me Setsunasaurus! Or Set :)
[x]
"Alright, Midoriya, what's this?" Gran Torino asked as Izuku handed him a notepad. Nighteye also looked interested. He motioned them to flip through it. He'd been working on it for almost a month, now, and he wanted a professional's opinion. He'd hand-written copies too, so they could each get one and he'd have one left over.
"They're all my notes on Smokescreen! My measured improvements, hypothetical workouts, and my theories!" Izuku said, proud. Both older men looked intrigued; he hadn't really shown off his Hero Notebooks, so he wasn't surprised that they seemed skeptical. He pulled another out and handed one to Nighteye, who picked it up hesitantly, but curious.
"Theories? The taller man muttered. Izuku nodded.
"Like, things on my fine-control, maximum output, general possibilities, and even some attack moves!" He said. Gran Torino nodded, not appearing to listen. Thumbing the edge, he let all the pages flip open. It was half an inch thick, each page filled to the brim with tiny handwriting, only interrupted with large diagrams. The older man flipped the notebook upside down, realizing that Izuku had also written on the backs of each page, not the front. Nighteye mirrored him but seemed to take the time to at least skim each line. They both hummed. Gran Torino grunted.
"Nighteye," the older man said. "Have it photocopied and put it through an audio translater. My optometrist told me to avoid reading this much. I'll listen to it on my next patrol." He said.
Nighteye, however, didn't seem to hear him, apparently absorbed in Izuku's notebook. The shorter majority of their trio watched in silence as the man seemingly became more and more engaged in the writing. After about half a minute of his intense scrutiny, Izuku gained enough confidence to lightly tap the man's shoulder, ripping him free of his concentration.
"Huh? What—oh." Nighteye said, pushing his glasses up his nose. "Midoriya."
"Uhm, yes sir?"
"Excuse my language. This is fucking fantastic. Is this your first ever quirk analysis?" Nighteye asked, rising to his full height. Izuku shook his head.
"Uhm, not really. I've been writing in these kinds of notebooks all my life. This was just the first quirk I've had the pleasure of personally testing. Cause, y'know." He said. Nighteye nodded at this, snapping the notepad closed.
"Tomorrow, you are going to bring me every single notebook so I can digitize them. I want to read them all. Furthermore, with your express permission, I am going to redact all relevant personal information and information about One for All before sending this to a Quirk Professor. From those first few pages alone, I doubt I could seriously give you the level of criticism that you need." Nighteye said. Izuku and Gran Torino gaped at him, the latter reopening the notepad to give it a second glance.
"A-are you sure, sir? I don't really think that—"
"Positive. I suppose this begs the question, how is your schooling? Where are you at, grade-wise? Is this your magnum opus or do you consider your other topics to be at a similar level?" Nighteye asked.
"I-I don't know. I guess I'm most passionate about quirk theory, but it's not necessarily that much better than anything else. Currently, my schooling is around… eleventh grade? Late high school, I guess. I've been blazing through it since starting remote learning." Izuku said. A pang shot through his heart at mentioning remote learning. He still needed to make a stable relationship with someone his age, or else Fujimaki would make him go back to school. He ignored the coincidental buzz in his pocket; Setsuna could wait. He was busy.
Both heroes looked at him in a new light. They, generally, weren't very involved in his life outside of his training. Izuku supposed they did have a larger relationship than mentor and student, but it wasn't by much. Sometimes they went out for lunch, or Izuku would relax at their house after an extra grueling training session. They never really interested themselves in his academics or personal life.
"Eleventh grade, huh? I guess that doesn't mean much; some schools' twelfth-grade classes are shittier than another's sixth. Still, are you some kinda genius, brat?" Gran Torino asked, causing a massive blush to explode on Izuku's face.
"No, no, no! I'm just completing the coursework faster because I don't have to wait for teachers to give it out!" Gran Torino raised an eyebrow. Izuku's blush deepened. Nighteye was eyeing more of the notepad.
"Well, this is fun, kid, but you've missed out on about ten minutes of running with this little notepad diversion of yours. Hit the track. Mirai." The older man motioned. Closing the booklet with a sharp snap, Nighteye jumped into action. Izuku screamed as the man sprinted after him, a pocket watch appearing in his hand.
[x]
Mirai Sasaki felt off balance. He'd done his job; run Izuku ragged on the track while keeping him at his personal best. He'd only had to actually attack the boy once, as today was another day in a row that Izuku broke his previous record. It didn't happen every day or even every week, but Izuku's improvements usually happened in clusters.
In almost every aspect, the boy was getting better. His coordination was better than a normal kid his age, even considering the accident. His agility was encroaching on those of Shiketsu applicants. His use of Smokescreen grew by leaps and bounds every day. The only thing he still struggled with on a fundamental level was hand-to-hand combat.
And Nighteye finally had the answer why in his back pocket.
The notepad was at least sixty pages thick. Izuku fit two lines between the college-rule guidelines, back to front with detailed illustrations in addition. Izuku had written, at the lowest end, three separate versions of it by hand for them. The boy made the term "overthink" an understatement.
He'd thought the boy was just someone who thought aloud often. Nighteye often caught the tail end of the boy's mutterings but had chalked it up to being nothing more than a personality quirk. That was wrong.
His ideas weren't simply jumping to his lips, but they were spilling out of his brain. His mutterings were just an overflow of everything else than ran through his head. You don't just write a hundred and twenty-page long thesis on a quirk you got a month ago. You don't just jump six grade levels because "your teachers were slow."
Maybe the boy wasn't a genius. Hypothetically, Nighteye could just be underestimating the amount of bad among the good of his quirk analysis. Perhaps he might just be underestimating what true genius was. There was an off chance his theory on Izuku was wrong, but he doubted it.
The boy's rapidly growing athleticism, something admirable, might, just might, be his most underwhelming trait.
Izuku wasn't hesitating so much in their spars because he was looking at the wrong things; he couldn't help but look at everything. It was the skill a fighter learned after decades of study and practice; to see everything, all at once, and know how to exactly counter and react. Nighteye was certain Izuku could fluently speak the language of battle. He just couldn't read or write it, and it made him second guess himself.
He cut Izuku's session in half, overriding Sorahiko's complaints. Getting this notebook to people who knew how to cultivate this kind of skill was far more important than the boy's midweek workout.
He might've sped home. Of course, driving over the limit was ill-advised, but he never had anything to worry about. Not only did he know that no officers would pull him over, but he also knew that he wouldn't crash. There had been a few times in the past decade where that hadn't been the case, but Mirai had been thorough in lessening the damage done by staying slow and being careful before it happened.
Stopping by the office, he photo-printed a copy before going home and handling his routine. Without ever touching the original, Nighteye took a thick sharpie and began striking out the necessary pieces. People needed to read this, he had decided, but people did not need to know about One for All. No one did. Not even his old peers at U.A.; not even Sasami Fujimaki, the Queen of General Studies 97' and his high school sweetheart.
[x]
Izuku was brimming with nervous excitement. His training had ended early today and therefore he was taking a different train home. Or, rather, the same train at a different time. Still, walking over to his normal seat, far away from the handicap section, it felt different. The people he'd come to associate with his ride home were nowhere to be found, replaced by stranger, more alien people. It wasn't like he knew his fellow passengers personally, but the comfort of consistency was eradicated, leaving him a little antsy to get home.
On top of all that was Nighteye's odd behavior and wild declarations. He wanted to die from the embarrassment when he announced he wanted to have it professionally looked at. Izuku never wanted to make a big deal out of it, he just wanted them to give him a yay or nay. Maybe they could've tested out his ideas in the big warehouse. Or, they could've had a discussion about his theories. The radical reaction from Nighteye had been the last thing he wanted.
It was exciting though. The thought of a real, honest quirk analyst giving him feedback sent happy jitters down his spine. It didn't even matter if they didn't like it if he was honest. Just the novelty of someone appreciating his efforts felt fantastic. Izuku felt like he was on top of the world.
He shot a text at Setsuna, trying his best to be less formal. A small smile graced his lips when, as soon as the message delivered, Setsuna's tiny pterosaurs popped up to read it. Before the girl's reply came back, however, a voice interrupted him. One that he had almost forgotten, but still struck a deep chord within him.
"Oi!? Deku? The hell're you doin in my seat?"