Chapter Text
“I can’t believe we have not one but two students from our school heading off to UA!”
Izuku warily glanced up at his teacher, trying to squash down the knot of nerves in his stomach. He averted his gaze back to his old red sneakers as his teacher’s stare settled on him, scuffing his feet on the cracked linoleum floor.
The man was acting so… odd.
He’d asked Kacchan and Izuku to stay after class just to congratulate them personally. Izuku didn’t understand why he hadn’t just announced the news to the class like he normally did whenever Kacchan accomplished anything. He’d half expected the man to ignore him and to spend the entirety of homeroom celebrating Kacchan. Not… this.
At first, the obvious glint of interest in the teacher’s expression as his eyes followed every move made Izuku feel like an insect under a microscope. Being called on was never a good thing, but at least Izuku wouldn’t be alone. Even if it was Kacchan who was going with him.
“And to think you are one of them, Midoriya.” The man’s eyes crinkled up in a smile, but Izuku could all but feel the cold assessment beneath it. Still, he couldn’t help the way his face turned red at the rare praise. “It’s a miracle.”
Kacchan turned to him with a sharp, furious movement that made Izuku instinctively shrink in on himself.
Izuku took a slow step back, eyes locked on the smoke trailing up from Kacchan’s clenched fists.
He’d known Kacchan would be angry. The explosive blond had placed first at the entrance exam, and while that wasn’t surprising, he’d probably been looking forward to revealing it to their classmates.
But still…
Kacchan huffed, turning back to the teacher as the man launched into a long-winded list of praises about his score. Izuku tuned it out, glancing at his mom. A worried frown creased her forehead, but when their eyes met, her heavy expression quickly softened into an encouraging smile. Behind her, on the other side of the dirty window, Haruka’s nearly faded ghost looked the most solid Izuku had ever seen him. He had his ghostly hands and face pushed up to the glass, and a wide, giddy smile splitting his face as he kicked his feet behind him.
Right. There were people who believed in Izuku, too. Even if All Might was the only one of them who was alive…
Izuku jumped as the cold, hard sound of the school bell rang, its sharp, metallic sound reverberating through his bones.
Izuku let out a slow breath as the teacher dismissed them. He slowly backed away to his desk, stuffing his notebooks into his bag and scrambling to the door.
As he turned the corner, he shot Kacchan a cautious look, not sure the blond wouldn’t follow him.
“We’re not fuckin’ done, nerd,” Kacchan sneered, as expected.
Izuku wanted to run. He glanced down the hall—most students had already left at the first bell, giving him a clear escape route. No, he shook his head and turned back.
It wasn’t like Kacchan had actually done anything to him since the sludge villain incident, so maybe everything would be fine?
Maybe.
~^°^~
“What dirty damn tricks did you use to pass the exam, shitty nerd!?”
Pain shot through Izuku’s shoulder blades as his back hit cold bricks. “Oww…” he wheezed.
He didn’t understand.
Kacchan had told him to follow, and Izuku had listened despite Haruka insistently shaking his head. The moment they were alone in the shadowed alcove behind the gym, the explosive blond threw him against the back wall.
Izuku yelped as Kacchan grabbed his collar, the fabric pulling tight against his throat.
“You must’ve cheated somehow, right?!” he yelled, face mere centimetres from Izuku. “I’m supposed to be the first and only student from this crappy school to make it into UA, but you just had to screw that all up!”
Izuku’s breath caught, eyes widening. Why? Kacchan had been so much better, so why?!
Izuku wanted to cry, but he couldn’t. Static filled his head, muffling Mom’s and Haruka’s voices. Izuku understood their frustration—he’d been stupid to believe Kacchan wouldn’t retaliate.
“I warned you not to apply!” Kacchan growled, tightening his grip until the collar painfully cut off his airway.
The surroundings darkened. He couldn’t breathe, couldn’t breathe, couldn’t breathe, couldn’t—
‘You can become a hero.’
All Might’s words broke through the ringing in his ears.
Right.
Izuku wasn’t supposed to be weak anymore. He had All Might’s Quirk and got into UA’s hero course. He’d done that on his own, so…
“Kacchan…” The world still spun as Izuku grabbed Kacchan’s wrist, making the vice-like grip loosen. “Someone I look up to told me I can become a hero.” He desperately tried to keep his voice level, though he couldn’t keep the tremor out of his wrist. “That it was because of my own hard work—that what I did was noble…”
Kacchan gritted his teeth, eyes widening slightly. The expression made Izuku want to back down. Apologise. Try to convince Kacchan not to stop. He stamped down the feeling clawing up his throat.
“That’s… that’s why I am going,” he gritted out, voice growing in determination despite the way his heart felt like it would beat right out of his chest. He grabbed Kacchan’s arm with a second hand, clamping down with all the force he could muster. “Like it or not, you can’t stop me!”
Searing heat radiated from Kacchan’s hand. Izuku shuddered as smoke trailed up from the scorched fabric, his lungs locking up as the acrid smell of burnt cloth filled his nose.
Izuku cursed how he froze, leaving himself open for the inevitable explosion. Despite the overwhelming need to run, get away, do something—his muscles stayed locked in place.
He’d been so happy that Kacchan had left him alone. At the exam, they’d talked almost normally, just like when they were kids.
Izuku had almost believed they could…
Memories of Kacchan’s apology from a few years ago flooded back to his mind. A desperate promise that he didn’t hate him, to ‘please just stay alive.’
His warm, blood-soaked hands that had held Izuku’s hand, incoherently repeating they could be okay again until Izuku’s Quirk had yanked him back.
So why?
Why, why, why?
The pain didn’t come.
Instead, Kacchan scoffed and let Izuku go, letting him fall to the ground.
“You better find somewhere else to go,” he sneered, kicking some dust onto Izuku. It stung in Izuku’s eyes as he looked up.
“UA will expel you immediately,” Kacchan added, voice low. “You’re a weak, Quirkless Deku. You and your freaky eyes are nothing compared to me, got that?”
He turned, and before Izuku could do anything, Kacchan had already stomped off.
Izuku… didn’t stand up.
He slumped onto the ground, letting out a shaky sigh as he tried to even out his breathing. He rubbed his face with the palms of his head. Why did he feel like this? Kacchan had done this all the time before the Sludge Villain incident, after all…
…
What would All Might say if he saw him now?
“Izuku…?”
Izuku shot up as a familiar voice sounded through the alcove. Nana floated a few meters away, her white cape fluttering behind her. She glanced to where Kacchan had disappeared before looking back at Izuku.
For a moment, they just stared at each other.
How long had she…
Izuku wanted to ask his mom, but he couldn’t look away from the former hero’s ghost. Nana’s expression turned dark. She drifted down, feet touching the ground as she stalked to Izuku.
“What the hell was that?” she asked, voice low.
“I-uh, it-it’s nothing!” Izuku hurried to stand up and brush the sand off his clothes and hair, cursing the traitorous tremor in his voice. “Kacchan was just—”
“No, don’t you dare!” Nana snapped, jabbing a finger at him. Her shoulders shook with barely restrained anger as her eyes flicked to his burnt collar. “Don’t you dare try to lie to me!”
“Nana—”
“Shut up, Inko,” she all but growled, making Izuku’s mom stiffen on reflex.
For a moment, Nana ducked her head, hands clenched at her sides. Izuku could only stare at her as she refused to look at him.
“How long?” she asked, voice quiet.
“I… w-what?” Izuku breathed.
“The bullying.” She gritted her teeth, hands balled into tight fists. “How long… How long have I…”
“He wasn’t that bad,” Izuku reflexively defended. “Kacchan’s just—”
“He’s just what?!” she spat. “Just attacking you? Just burning your clothes, shoving you to the ground, and telling you that you’re nothing?” With each word, she stepped closer. The temperature plummeted, the freezing air agitating the burn on his throat. “None of that is ‘just’ anything!”
Izuku shrank in on himself. “I-I’m sorry, I didn’t mean—”
“Hey, no,” Nana’s voice softened, but she didn’t back away. “I’m not angry at you, but I…” she sighed, shaking her head. “I knew your classmates were harsh, especially the explosion kid, but I didn’t think…”
“Kacchan mostly left me alone since that day with the Sludge Villain,” Izuku mumbled, wringing his fingers anxiously. It hurt to hear Nana like this. He hadn’t heard her this upset since the day they’d met, but this felt different somehow. “And it’s fine, really. I can deal with it.”
“It’s not fine, and you know that,” Mom whispered, cautiously approaching Nana and Izuku. Haruka followed close behind her, watching with big, fearful eyes.
Izuku balled his fists and turned away. Tears burned behind his eyes. He didn’t want to be here. Didn’t want Nana, or his mom, or anyone else to know how Kacchan treated him now.
“I just wish you’d told me,” Nana said, voice taking on an exasperated edge. “Either of you! I could’ve done something!”
Izuku bit the inside of his cheek so hard he tasted blood.
Maybe Kacchan would improve again once they were at UA. They might not even be put in the same class.
It would be fine.
“Why did you come here?” Izuku asked, slowly picking up his bag off the ground as he resolutely stayed turned away from the ghosts.
“Hey, no! I wasn’t done—”
Izuku couldn’t see what his mom did to cut Nana off, but he was immensely grateful. By the time he’d dusted off his bag, wiped the budding tears from his eyes, and turned back around, Nana and his Mom were still shooting each other looks he didn’t care to decipher.
Izuku didn’t wait for them to finish whatever stare-off they were having. He was tired. If he left now, he might still get home before his uncle. His shoulders slumped as the fabric of his collar grated against his throat. He’d need some time to take care of the burn and—
“Toshinori should text you in a bit.” Nana’s voice came from behind him.
Izuku turned on his heel, exhaustion forgotten. “Wait, really?” he asked, voice bright. “Isn’t he busy with UA stuff? I haven’t heard from him all week.”
“Oh, he’s definitely busy.” Nana’s grin was strained, but Izuku didn’t care. “But that’s never stopped him before. He would’ve texted you if Nedzu hadn’t prohibited teachers from talking to applicants until the results are out.”
A buzz came from his bag.
He quickly dug up his phone and swiped up to accept the call from All Might.
“Congratulations, young Midoriya!” came All Might’s voice through the phone’s speaker. Despite the tiredness in his voice, Izuku could hear the smile. “You did so well, my boy!”
Izuku could feel his face redden at the praise, mouth curling into a giddy smile. It was so different from how his teacher had complimented him. There was something… warm to it. Something real.
“Say, how would you like to meet up at Dagobah Beach this evening?”
Izuku didn’t have to think twice about his answer.
“Of course!”
~^°^~
“Hello, Nedzu, sir.” All Might stepped into the beautifully decorated principal’s office. Bookcases filled with academic literature, ranging from psychology to history to Quirk science, lined one side of the room. On the other side stood a grand display case containing a meticulously polished collection of the countless awards and commendations earned by UA and its graduates.
All Might recognised a few that he’d earned for the school back in his teenage years.
Nedzu himself sat behind his desk on a custom chair to accommodate his short stature, paws flying across a keyboard as his eyes flicked between four different screens.
“Ah, Yagi, come in!” Nedzu said brightly, giving a nod in acknowledgment as he paused his work. With the click of an unseen button, the screens moved aside, giving All Might a better view of the principal. The man’s mouse-like nose twitched as he smiled, white fur looking neatly groomed.
All Might smiled back, hoping he read the chimera’s face correctly.
“I have been waiting for a moment to speak to you. Please sit.” Nedzu gestured at the seating area to the side of his desk.
All Might hesitated for a moment before sitting down on the couch. The warm light of the room and its high-end interior made the office look perfectly inviting. A perfect mix of scholarly, refined, and comfortable.
And yet.
Despite only having visited the office a handful of times, he’d never felt at ease here.
He kept his back straight, his hands resting stiffly on his knees. Nothing in the room was overtly threatening, but the air felt just a little too thick on the back of his throat, and there was a pressure as if every shift of his hands and skinny body was being observed and judged.
He wasn’t sure why. Even as a student, when Nedzu had only recently been appointed as principal, the room had unnerved him. Back then, he’d assumed it was nerves after the Quirked animal discovered One for All and confronted him and his Sensei about it.
Perhaps some part of him had never forgotten that first encounter.
He’d always been good at sensing danger, even back then. Still, he couldn’t understand why the feeling of impending doom was so strong when all he faced was the principal’s shrewd face and beady eyes.
“Am I a mouse? A bear? A dog? Who knows!” Principal Nedzu said finally.
He hopped down from his chair and disappeared briefly behind the desk before emerging holding a tray with a teapot and two cups. “The only important thing is that I am the principal!”
If All Might hadn’t felt so pressured by the man, he might have asked why Nedzu introduced himself like that so often. He’d heard his new colleagues call the man a rat or a mouse, and while he could see the resemblance, he got the distinct impression Nedzu didn’t actually want people dwelling on it.
Instead, he just put on his usual friendly smile. “My apologies, I would have come up here earlier. But my schedule has been quite hectic, as you know.”
“Yes, yes, I’m sure it has been,” Nedzu hummed, placing the tray on the low table between himself and All Might before taking a seat. Steam rose from the finely painted teapot, carrying a soft herbal scent through the room.
“Would you care for some tea? This one has no caffeine.”
“Oh, thank you.” All Might blinked as he reached for the cup. He hadn’t told Nedzu the details of his dietary restrictions. Maybe the Principal had done research on it?
That still didn’t explain why the tea had been ready when All Might arrived.
“I had quite the enlightening conversation with Recovery Girl and your doctor about it,” Nedzu answered the unspoken question. “The latter didn’t seem to like me much, but he did provide me with a fascinating reading list.”
“Ah,” All Might let out a nervous chuckle. “I appreciate the effort, though I doubt the reason you called me here was to give me medical advice.”
“It is not,” Nedzu agreed, taking a slow sip of his tea.
The room fell into silence again as All Might waited for Nedzu to elaborate. Instead, the chimera simply watched him. The scrutiny made All Might feel uncomfortably aware of his every movement—the way he leaned back slightly, the shift of his fingers around the handle of his cup, and even the rise and fall of his own chest.
All Might took a sip of tea, mind running at top speed to find what Nedzu wanted him to say.
“Your pupil passed the entrance exam. You must be very proud,” Nedzu said brightly. All Might coughed in surprise, nearly choking on his tea. “He wouldn’t have made it into the Hero Course if it hadn’t been for that stunt with the Zero Pointer. It seems he didn’t adjust to One for All as easily as you did, hmm?”
“S-sir?” All Might wiped the spilt tea from his chin. A thin streak of blood had mixed with it.
“You really should’ve told me about him beforehand, though.” Nedzu shook his head disapprovingly, setting down his cup of tea with a soft click.
“I already knew, of course. You weren’t very subtle with that endorsement letter, even if you omitted the fact that you planned to give him your Quirk.”
All Might winced as the chimera shot him a sharp look, though his voice stayed deceptively light-hearted.
“I dread to think what could’ve happened if that fellow applicant hadn’t caught him, though. I take the security of my exams seriously, despite the rumours. The overseeing heroes can only do so much when their risk assessments are based on registered Quirks and support equipment.” Nedzu took another sip of tea, placing his empty cup back on the platter.
“It’s fortunate I’d taken the precaution to have one of them shadow Midoriya just in case.”
All Might’s face contorted with guilt. “I didn’t want to cloud your first impression of the boy by linking him to me from the beginning,” he began, his voice quiet. “He deserves the chance to prove himself to you, as he did to me.”
He hadn’t thought Young Midoriya would struggle so much with his Quirk. By the time All Might realised how badly the boy had injured himself, Izuku’s fellow applicant had already caught him with her Quirk. Even then, it had taken him a moment to fully realise what could have happened.
Still, he was proud of his successor. Young Midoriya had shown true heroism in the exam, trying to save that girl without hesitation despite the risk. All Might couldn’t ask for more than that.
“You are too secretive for your own good, Yagi.”
“Excuse me—?!” All Might coughed, spitting out a wad of blood and tightening his grip on his teacup as he nearly dropped it.
“Don’t get me wrong, Yagi,” Nedzu cut him off. “I do understand your position—some things are better left unspoken. I am a secretive individual myself, so I might not be the right person to lecture you on this. Still, I sincerely hope your young pupil won’t follow in your footsteps.”
All Might’s jaw clenched. “What are you trying to imply?” he asked, voice low.
“There’s no need to be defensive,” Nedzu’s eyes crinkled as he smiled. “It’s just advice from your favourite old principal. Teaching children to be secretive backfires if it leaves them with no one to talk to.”
All Might frowned, putting his cup down. “I’m sure he knows he can talk to me. There’s nothing I wouldn’t help him with.”
“I’ll trust your judgement, then.” Nedzu hummed, offering All Might a fresh cup of tea. “That being said, I wanted to inform you that I've locked the details of Midoriya’s previous student files, as you requested. The other teachers won’t be able to access them unless they specifically go looking for them.”
“Thank you.” A smile tugged at the corners of All Might’s mouth. It had been Young Midoriya’s idea to hide the files. “We could just explain that he was a late bloomer, but it would be best to avoid the discussion altogether.”
Nedzu’s expression darkened for a moment, though it was gone too soon for All Might to decipher.
“Is that the only reason you wanted to keep it hidden?”
All Might tilted his head. “What do you mean?”
A thoughtful look crossed Nedzu’s face before he set down his teacup.
“While he did well on both his written and practical exams, he would not have made it through our initial screening without your endorsement letter. His middle school records do not paint a pleasant picture.”
All Might frowned, raising a hand to his chin. That didn’t sound like young Midoriya.
Unless…
“Ah, I see.” He nodded slowly to himself.
“He told me he had a period of severe health issues when he was younger, and that he had an accident a few years ago that left him hospitalised for a while.” All Might frowned thoughtfully. “I can imagine having to catch up after that would’ve left a mark on his record.”
“Is that so?” Nedzu stared into his tea, expression unchanging. “That’s all I wanted to ask, then.”
All Might let out a relieved sigh.
“I must warn you, though,” Nedzu added, the amused glint in his eyes making All Might shiver. “Midoriya’s homeroom teacher is already asking questions about him, and Miss Kayama has known you’ve been tutoring someone since she saw you two on the beach.”
All the colour drained from All Might’s face.
“I don’t think she has told anyone,” Nedzu continued, hopping off his seat and returning to his desk. “She enjoys knowing things other people don’t know too much to let this slip.”
“Wait, what?! Why does Aizawa—” All Might stopped himself, then immediately continued. “And why was Kayama on the beach? I thought she lived further away.”
“Well, since you weren’t telling me, I had to do something to find out whether you were really training someone behind my back, didn’t I?”
Nedzu looked back at All Might, a grin displaying his sharp teeth.
“I couldn’t help but notice your car kept showing up on the cameras near that beach. And Miss Kayama was so curious about you, it was as simple as suggesting she should change her normal running route and asking her about it later. I don’t understand how you think you can keep anything from me.”
“Wait—you—what?!”
~^°^~
Izuku squeezed his trembling hands into fists around the straps of his backpack.
The door was the same as always. Sun-bleached wood. Amber-coloured varnish flaking off the corners. Anyone else with the salary of a head surgeon with a medical Quirk license would’ve replaced it years ago.
But not Uncle Usamu. Of course not.
It was later than Izuku had wanted to get home. Taking care of the burn on his throat had taken longer than usual now that he was out of practice, but most of the delay had been convincing Nana to leave him alone.
He never wanted her to be with him when he was home with his uncle. She’d only seen them interact once, back when she stalked him for a full week. After that, Izuku had gotten her to go back to All Might when he knew he wouldn’t be alone at home.
But after what happened with Kacchan earlier, it had taken Izuku almost an hour to make her leave. She’d only agreed to it because they’d see each other later, when Izuku went to meet up with All Might.
The other ghosts wouldn’t be watching either. Apparently, they couldn’t automatically see what was happening outside the Quirk. There’d been some protest when Izuku first got One for All, but eventually they’d all agreed to give him some privacy while he was at home.
Izuku was sure they’d break that agreement within a few weeks, but that was a problem for future him to solve.
He swallowed thickly, slowly reaching out to the doorbell but flinching back at the last second.
He shouldn’t act like this. Not now.
In the corner of his eye, Izuku could see his mom staring at him with sad, distant eyes. They both knew what the missing Gen Ed Entrance Exam letter meant.
Uncle Usamu was home.
Knowing his uncle, he’d read the letter the moment he got home. He’d been thrilled when Izuku had told him he’d given up on heroics.
Izuku’s jaw clenched as he remembered his uncle trying to convince him to study medicine so they could work at the same hospital.
‘It’d be so much easier to keep you safe,’ he’d said, a thoughtful glint in his eyes as he’d studied Izuku.
Izuku shook his head, squeezed his eyes shut, and pressed the doorbell three times in quick succession, the signal that it was him.
The chime echoed through the quiet hallway.
Nothing happened.
Izuku wrung his hands together.
The waiting was always the worst.
What if Usamu knew, somehow? What if he insisted on a checkup?
One for All was a relatively straightforward strength Quirk, even if it had broken his bones. But Usamu’s Diagnosis had still picked up on a reserve of energy being accumulated by Izuku’s Resurrection. One for All was a Stockpiling Quirk, too, so maybe it could pick up on that?
No, it didn’t matter. They’d made a deal. Usamu would only do a checkup if Izuku looped or something went wrong, and Izuku hadn’t looped.
But this was the first time it hadn’t happened for so long. Izuku refused to let the ghosts of One for All find out how often it used to happen.
Terror constricted his throat as he imagined their disappointment, telling them he wasn’t worthy of their Quirk with how often he died.
He was already on thin ice after the entrance exam, and Hikage had known he was panicking at the briefing. He could only hope that the new vestige—a part of All Might’s soul, apparently—distracted them enough so they wouldn’t start asking questions about his uncle, and—
A cold flick to the side of his head made him glance sideways. His mom met his eyes, hers just a little too wide, before pressing a finger to her lips.
Izuku’s eyes snapped back up, but the door was still closed. He bit the inside of his cheek. Usamu couldn’t catch him mumbling about this.
He stared at the door, rocking back and forth on his feet as he strained to hear something—anything—from the other side.
It was still quiet inside.
Izuku took a shaky breath. Had Usamu left after seeing the letter? Why?
The door flew open. Izuku jumped away, back landing against the wall.
“Izuku, you’re home!” Uncle Usamu smiled down at him, looking more normal than Izuku had seen him in a long time. He’d even changed out of his hospital uniform into a plain white button-up, the sleeves rolled neatly to his elbows.
“U-um… hi,” Izuku murmured, risking a glance at his uncle’s face.
Their eyes met for the briefest of moments before they both looked away.
Usamu’s smile dimmed. “I was wondering when you’d show up,” he said, his voice carefully restrained. He stepped inside. “Come in.”
Izuku ducked his head and followed his uncle into the apartment. He slipped off his shoes, acutely aware of his uncle watching his every movement from the corner of his eye.
When Usamu couldn’t see his face, Izuku glanced at his mom. Concern creased her brow as her eyes drifted from her brother to the rest of the apartment, lingering on where the kitchen was. For a split second, understanding dawned across her face.
“He’s excited, I think,” she breathed. “There are shopping bags in the kitchen.”
Izuku frowned. Uncle Usamu usually had stuff delivered, and him being excited about something was always tricky. Izuku had been on the receiving end of many of his Uncle’s excited rants. Both about good things, such as new medical discoveries he’d made, and bad things, such as his theories on Izuku’s Quirk.
The thought of having to sit through another explanation of how his uncle wanted to fix him really didn’t help ease the anxiety twisting in his gut.
He followed his uncle into the apartment’s living area. Uncle Usamu took a breath as if he was about to speak, then seemed to think better of it and stayed quiet. The silence was uncomfortable, especially with Usamu’s eyes occasionally flicking to him, but Izuku hoped it would last until he could disappear into his room.
The apartment was usually empty.
Even though his uncle usually came home on the weekends, there were barely any signs that anyone ever used the living space. Fine dust coated the cabinets, and the cushions and blankets on the couch looked as if they hadn’t been touched in years.
No pictures hung on the walls. The only family photo left was from Izuku’s seventh birthday. It hung on the fridge, turned so only its paper backside was visible.
Unless he counted the pictures on the memorial shrine that his uncle had set up in the room, but Izuku refused to acknowledge it.
The apartment was different today.
Two half-emptied shopping bags stood on the kitchen counter. Two pots rested on the stove, and the smell of rice and slightly burned pork filled the apartment.
Izuku stopped.
For a moment, he could only stare at the two pots on the stove.
“You… made food?” Izuku asked, the confusion pushing his anxiety aside for a moment.
Usually, his uncle would just order takeout and leave some for Izuku in the fridge. He hadn’t cooked in over five years, and Izuku hadn’t wanted him to.
And he’d set the table for two people.
“I did!” Usamu smiled proudly, taking a small step towards Izuku. Izuku desperately tried to keep his face neutral as his throat tightened.
“See? It’s katsudon. I do remember what your favourite food is,” his uncle continued with a gesture at the kitchen. “It’s not much, just some freezer stuff I threw together. I couldn’t prepare the meat for it myself because… well…”
Usamu trailed off, eyes averted and face paling as the room fell silent.
Or maybe it didn’t.
Maybe he kept talking, but Izuku didn’t hear.
Izuku stared at the set table. Two plates, two glasses. No food yet, but the glasses were full.
Why…?
The world seemed to tilt. His uncle’s voice sounded distant, as if echoing through a metal tube.
He had to act normally.
Give him no reason to suspect anything happened.
Izuku’s vision was hazy, and his eyes couldn’t find his uncle’s gaze. He forced what he hoped looked like an easy, obedient smile and gave a weak hum.
“That’s okay,” he said, hoping desperately it made sense with whatever his Uncle had just said. “It’s been a while since I had katsudon.”
It wasn’t completely true. Izuku had eaten katsudon at the volunteer kitchen in the hospital, but his uncle wouldn’t want to know that.
Usamu said something, but the meaning of the words slid off his mind like water through an open hand. Whatever it was, he didn’t sound upset. Hopefully, it wasn’t important.
Izuku didn’t move as his uncle walked into the kitchen. He couldn’t.
His eyes stayed fixed on a point in the middle distance as his uncle moved about in the kitchen. A faint tremor ran through his hands and arms as he fought to keep his breathing steady.
A cold presence wrapped around his hand, and he let his mom’s comfort seep deep into his bones until the icy air grounded him.
He had to stay calm. He didn’t know what he’d do if Hikage or any of the other ghosts noticed his panic and came to help…
With some effort, he tore his eyes from his uncle to the table. Gen Ed’s entrance exam letter lay next to his Uncle’s plate.
Oh…
Was that what his excitement was about…?
CLUNK.
Izuku harshly flinched back as Usamu set the pot of rice on the table.
“You don’t need to jump like that,” Usamu huffed, and if Izuku hadn’t known better, he’d think his uncle almost sounded amused. “Sit down. I have a surprise for you.”
Numbly, Izuku did as he was told.
There was no point in protesting. He should work harder to match his uncle’s excitement. This could be a good thing.
He watched as Usamu brought the rest of the food. It was Katsudon, and despite himself, Izuku felt happy. Nothing was as nice as Katsudon. Having someone else make it for him made it feel special.
With a soft thud, Usamu placed a bowl in front of him.
“Th-thank you,” Izuku said. It took less effort than he’d expected to make himself sound upbeat. The katsudon wasn’t as good as his mom would have made it—the scent of burnt rice and pork made him wince—but there had been a genuine effort put into it.
But his uncle had made this, and the thought of eating any food made by him made Izuku’s stomach tie itself into painful knots.
Hiding a frown behind his curls, Izuku picked up his chopsticks and pushed, mixed, and squished the food around the bowl.
“You got a letter from UA.” Usamu leaned forward slightly, his fingers tapping once on the table, then a second time. Every fibre of his being seemed charged with expectation.
“O-oh, was that today?” Izuku feigned surprise. “Did you… read it?”
There was a moment of silence.
Izuku bit the inside of his cheek, eyes locked on his bowl as he slowly lifted up a piece of pork and let it fall back down. He shouldn’t have asked—he already knew the answer.
“Yes.” Usamu’s voice had a defensive edge to it. “You can’t expect me not to read something like that, Izuku. Getting into a good high school is an important milestone.”
“I know, I know… I’m sorry…”
Izuku sighed before taking a deep breath and pushing away the anxiety that held his throat in a vice grip. It wasn’t too hard to look enthusiastic if he imagined his uncle was asking about the hero exams.
“S-so? Did I pass?!” Izuku asked, letting out some of the excitement he’d kept tightly locked away while at school.
“With flying colours!” Uncle Usamu beamed, gesturing animatedly. “You must’ve worked hard for that.”
Despite himself, Izuku let out a breathy laugh. It felt as if he were releasing a heavy weight from his shoulders. “Really? That’s amazing!” A genuine smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. Usamu seemed… actually proud.
“I, um, y-yeah. I couldn’t get into heroics, so I had to work extra hard for Gen Ed, right?” As quickly as it had come, the lightness dampened again. Instead, a bitter, hollow feeling constricted Izuku’s throat—it was all a lie, after all.
With a trembling hand, Izuku squashed a few grains of rice beneath his chopsticks.
“But, um, thanks… f-for this…” he started, picking his words carefully. “F-for the katsudon…”
“Look, Izuku, kid,” Usamu let out a long sigh, setting down his chopsticks. He looked down, closing his eyes and taking another breath. “I know things between us have been… tense, these past few years.”
Izuku winced.
“But things have been going really well, haven’t they?” Usamu asked, tapping the table with his chopsticks.
“I, uh, y-yeah… I-I guess,” Izuku’s eyes darted across the room, suddenly feeling uncomfortable.
“So we can go back to normal, can’t we?” Usamu asked, and for a moment the words didn’t register in Izuku’s mind.
“W-what…?” he asked, stunned.
“I know it must be stressful for you, being alone in this apartment every week,” Usamu sharply gestured around himself, long since having abandoned his bowl of food.
“It’s not—"
“And Morphy keeps asking me why I don’t go home, or why you always ask for food after volunteering,” he scoffed, rapidly tapping his foot. “She looks at me as if I’m a horrible parent!”
After a moment, he sighed and ran a hand through his mint-coloured hair, causing a few strands to fall to his forehead.
“You don’t… think that, do you?” The question was deceptively calm, but the tremor in his voice gave Izuku’s uncle away.
“N-no, I…" Izuku shrank in on himself, his shaking fists clenching the fabric of his school gakuran that he still hadn’t changed out of. He wanted to run. Run to the cemetery house, to Dagoba beach, maybe even to All Might.
“Then why do you look like that?”
No words came.
What was Izuku even supposed to say to that?
The seconds dragged on for what felt like hours, the silence heavy enough that Izuku could hear his own heartbeat. Every moment the tension wasn’t resolved, it grew. Like a dam in a flood, filling with water until something broke the tension.
Izuku couldn’t take it anymore. He glanced up at his mom, desperately hoping she had an idea.
Her eyes were wide, her pale face drawn tight with fear. She shook her head. “Please don’t,” she whispered.
BAM!
Usamu slammed his fist on the table. The bowls and glasses rattled. Izuku nearly jumped out of his chair.
“What are you looking at?!” he snapped, his face pale and his eyes slightly too wide.
Izuku jolted, throwing his hands up defensively. “N-nothing!”
“I’m trying to fix things, don’t you see that? You must, right? That’s why you finally saw sense!” His voice grew higher with an almost manic edge. “You even got into a prestigious high school despite refusing my help.” He laughed mirthlessly. “I don’t know what I did, but it’s working, right?”
“Y-yes,” Izuku swallowed, wrapping his arms around himself and digging his fingers into the fabric of his sleeves. He couldn’t stop shaking. “L-like I said, I’m fine.”
“But are you? Really?” Usamu’s stare fixed onto him, as if mentally willing his Quirk to work from across the table. “These past few months, there’s been nothing. No loops, no delusions, no incidents, right?”
Izuku nodded, a little too quickly.
“S-see! Everything’s fine!”
“Then why aren’t you eating?”
Izuku froze at his uncle’s steely tone. His breathing hitched.
“I… I am eating…” he lied, staring down at the mushed rice and pork. He nudged it around with his chopsticks. “Just… slowly…”
“You’re just pushing it around!” Usamu pointed at the plate. “Did you think I wouldn’t notice?”
“I-I—”
“Didn’t you like katsudon?”
“I do, but…”
“Is it not good enough, then?” After a moment, he narrowed his eyes. “Or do you think I did something to it? Is that it?!”
Izuku’s eyes burned. His chest tightened with every breath until it felt as if his ribs would crack under the pressure. He ducked his head, letting his curls fall over his eyes in the hope his uncle wouldn’t see the tears building up.
“It is, isn’t it?” Usamu’s voice dropped, quiet and threatening as he stilled.
Izuku had to deny it.
Had to speak.
Say something.
Anything.
“You must think I’m a horrible parent, too, don’t you?” Usamu gritted his teeth, slowly clenching his fists against the table as he looked down. “You think I want this… huh? That I’m just trying to torment you?”
Izuku wanted to refute. His eyes snapped up to his uncle, who instantly looked back at him. Usamu’s face contorted into an angry scowl that morphed into something else. Frustration. Wariness. Maybe guilt?
And for a second, Usamu’s eyes widened with absolute terror.
“DON’T LOOK AT ME LIKE THAT!” Usamu screamed, jerking backward so violently that his chair clattered onto the floor.
“I WAS TRYING—”
He grabbed the fallen chair and threw it to the side.
“—TO HELP YOU!”
He slammed his hands back onto the table as the chair landed on the floor, his breathing heavy and irregular. Izuku threw his hands over his ears, breathless as he curled in on himself.
“Usamu, please,” Mom’s voice broke as tears filled her eyes. She reflexively rushed to her brother, but he stepped through her.
“I know what you think of me.” Usamu stalked towards Izuku, stepping through the ghost. She yelped as though it had hurt, but Usamu didn’t slow down. “You hate me… you hate me, don’t you?”
Izuku backed away, slipping off his chair and using it as a barrier. He stared up with wide, pleading eyes. Mom tried to put herself between them again.
“Please,” she begged.
Usamu pushed the chair aside, unaware of his sister trying to stop him. He roughly grabbed Izuku’s shoulders, fingers digging into the bruises Kacchan had left earlier that day.
“SAY IT!” He shook Izuku. “YOU HATE ME!”
Izuku whimpered, the sound barely audible.
Something seemed to break in Usamu. The death grip on Izuku’s shoulders loosened, though he didn’t let go. His expression softened, guilt and sorrow flickering across his face as he looked Izuku over.
Izuku wasn’t sure what his uncle saw, the tears blurring his vision too much.
He wanted to keep it in.
Be strong like All Might.
Like Kacchan.
But he wasn’t, and he couldn’t—not even now that he had One for All.
Slowly, Usamu hung his head and let himself sink down to his knees in front of Izuku.
“Fuck…”
He rested his forehead against Izuku’s chest, grip tightening again as if afraid Izuku would disappear.
Izuku wouldn’t mind disappearing right now.
“What am I doing…?” Usamu murmured, seemingly more to himself than Izuku. Izuku could feel him shaking, too. A wet spot was quickly forming where Usamu’s tears soaked through his shirt.
“I’m sorry, Izuku. I’m sorry…” Izuku stiffened as his uncle slowly moved to hug him. “I’m sorry… You know I love you, right? You’re my nephew, my only family. You know I’d never be angry at you, right?”
Izuku let Usamu’s fragmented apologies wash over him as the room seemed to spin around him. He felt like a wooden doll, unable to move or think. Vaguely, he was aware of his mom in the corner of his eye, but he couldn’t bring himself to look at her. He didn’t want to see the face she’d make.
Izuku’s unfocused gaze drifted across the room, settling on the shrine his uncle had built.
The feeling of arms around him hurt.
It burned.
Izuku wanted to claw his skin off, just to make it stop.
A memory of All Might treating a cut on his hand surfaced.
Had that also hurt like this…?
…
Izuku couldn’t imagine otherwise.